Version Variations: Goodbye, Mr. Chips (1939, 1969)

Tags

Classics, Drama, Meet 'em and Move on, Musical, Romance, Version Variations

A young boy’s mind is a fallow field
With unknown promise yet to yield,
And every word their minds import
Of criticism or support,
Of firm reproof or merely sport,
Contributes to the man revealed
At last when boyhood is cut short.

To nobly tend this field with care,
Since parents can’t be always there,
Requires a person resolute,
Profuse with passion, temper mute,
With love of learning absolute.
Such people tasting praise is rare,
But they produce the finest fruit.
_____________________

MPAA rating of 1939 version:  Not Rated (should be G)
MPAA rating of 1969 version:  G

Those who’ve seen my Top 365 movie list might know that I love Mr. Holland’s Opus.  I’ve just always been drawn to the story of an unassuming teacher finding worth in the service of his students.  I’ve always vaguely known that 1939’s Goodbye, Mr. Chips, based on a 1934 novella, was the original version of such a story, but I’d never gotten around to seeing it. When I then learned it had been remade as a musical in 1969, I figured it would be a prime chance to compare the two in one of my overdue Version Variation posts.

The first Goodbye, Mr. Chips is known as one of the members of the great movie year of 1939, managing to win Robert Donat the Best Actor Oscar over some stiff competition, including Clark Gable in Gone with the Wind. Having seen the winning performance, I can now see why Donat edged out the rest, letting his range of sometimes inscrutable emotions play out with great subtlety as he ages from a fresh-faced new Latin teacher in 1870 to a celebrated educator in 1933, weighed down with all the joys and sorrows of a lifetime. (My VC enjoyed the film a lot, but as a huge Rhett Butler fan, her loyalties still lie with Gable.) Like Mr. Holland, the respect Mr. Chipping ends up with is hard-won, but much of it stems from his marriage to the lovely Kathy Ellis (Greer Garson), whom he meets on a European holiday. I would have loved for Garson’s role to have been longer, but, even with limited screen time, her warm presence successfully brings the prosaic Chipping out of his shell, improving his reputation at the school.

In many ways, Goodbye, Mr. Chips is exactly the kind of movie I like, a film spanning decades wherein one character meets various people and experiences alongside the ebb and flow of time, fostering a sense of fond nostalgia. I particularly liked his run-ins with successive generations of the Colley family, showing how static his life at school is while his students go on to have lives of their own. Mr. Holland’s Opus had some similarities, but whereas that film allowed time for characters to be eventually remembered, the turnaround in Goodbye, Mr. Chips is sometimes too fast, introducing a character only for us to learn what happened to them years later in a few minutes’ time. Ultimately, Goodbye, Mr. Chips is well-deserving of its classic status, and while there’s no danger of it supplanting my preference for Mr. Holland’s Opus, it was wonderful seeing a forerunner of a story I’ve come to love.

And then there’s the 1969 remake with Peter O’Toole and Petula Clark, which fits into the not-so-modern sentiment that remakes hardly ever match the original. There’s nothing wrong with making it a musical, allowing the songs to mainly serve as interior monologues, but the songs are largely forgettable, except for a couple clever lyrics, and O’Toole just isn’t much of a singer, trying out the Rex Harrison method of talk-singing but less successfully.

The plot has the same basic elements: Chipping is a somewhat unpopular Latin teacher at a boys’ school who meets and marries a girl named Katherine (Clark) and eventually becomes a mainstay of the institution. There are still the lines of boys sounding off their attendance and a very similar ending, but the filmmakers made significant plot changes elsewhere. For one, the time period is moved up, no longer starting in the 1800s but in the 1920s with Chipping already an established teacher; thus, the war he experiences is World War II rather than World War I.

The worst change, though, is that Katherine is no longer a cycling suffragette Chips meets on a mountain but a music hall singer with an unsavory past, and their formerly brief courtship takes up the entire first half of the film, which also features an intermission to pad out its greater length. There’s pushback against their marriage where there was none before, along with Roaring ’20s parties and O’Toole’s wife-at-the-time Siân Phillips as an annoying socialite. I know I said that I wished Chipping’s wife was in the original more, but I was referring to Greer Garson’s version; the writers of the remake essentially rewrote her whole character, and while Petula Clark was great in the role, it was such a weirdly unnecessary change from the original.

Even so, the latter half (or really third) of the film is much more similar to the first film and is better for it. O’Toole and Clark do well with their roles (O’Toole even got an Oscar nomination and won a Golden Globe), although O’Toole’s Chipping is slightly more stiff and crotchety, even in scenes supposed to be romantic. The film overall was solid enough, but, as with so many remakes, it just doesn’t compare with the original.

I guess films about long-suffering teachers who touch the lives of their students just naturally appeal to me, and Goodbye, Mr. Chips, whatever the incarnation, fits that mold. The original is clearly the better of the two, though, and certainly the one I’d recommend first. While the scene wasn’t in the 1939 movie, I couldn’t help but recall Mr. Holland’s Opus when the second film’s Kathy organizes a school musical with the students, which made me wonder how much either version of Goodbye, Mr. Chips really inspired the 1995 film. They’re so different in setting and character, and yet so similar in theme, particularly in their final heartwarming sentiments (see below). I suppose that’s what speaks to me most of all.

Best line (from 1939 film but something similar in both): (Mr. “Chips”) “I thought I heard you saying it was a pity… pity I never had any children. But you’re wrong. I have… thousands of them, thousands of them… and all boys.”

 

Rank of 1939 version:  List Runner-Up

Rank of 1969 version:  Honorable Mention

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
646 Followers and Counting

 

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2019 Blindspot Pick #6: Amadeus (1984)

Tags

Biopic, Drama, History, Musical

How must it be to be a genius,
Masterpieces to be mined
In the mind,
Unrefined,
And so gradually defined
In an act of new creation
Not unlike how God designed?

Oh, to birth such instant classics,
Such a rare, eternal prize!
Oh, what highs
In human eyes,
We crave as we mythologize,
And what despair we suffer when
Our limits cut us down to size.

Comparisons are no avail
If we’re defined by how we fail.
______________________

MPAA rating: PG for the original, R for the Director’s Cut, due to brief language and nudity

For me, Amadeus is the perfect candidate for a Blindspot pick. I’ve been putting it off for far too long, even getting it from the library a while ago and letting it sit around until I had to return it. On top of that, I kept being reminded of it; the recent anime Steins;Gate 0 had an AI called Amadeus and explicitly referenced the rivalry between Mozart and Salieri, and I also just rediscovered the classic ‘80s tune “Rock Me Amadeus” by Falco, inspired by this film. I even got a recent Final Jeopardy question wrong because I didn’t realize Amadeus was based on a play, making it perfect for MovieRob’s Genre Grandeur this month as well. Thus, at long last, it seemed only right to watch the Best Picture of 1984, since I was clearly being pointed toward it.

Winner of eight Oscars, Amadeus is a powerhouse for both acting and music. For his role of Salieri, F. Murray Abraham deservingly won the Oscar for Best Actor, ironically defeating Tom Hulce as his unwitting rival Mozart. Salieri is a tortured soul, deranged and aged far past his prime when the film opens in 1823, and tells a priest of how his classical musical career was overshadowed by the flippant but undeniable talent of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Hulce portrays Mozart as a frivolous man-child, a “creature” as Salieri refers to him, whose high-pitched laugh grows increasingly annoying, yet the elder composer recognizes Mozart’s gift and blames God for leaving Salieri so comparatively untalented. Both performances are brilliantly nuanced, especially by the tragic end, but the Academy chose right that year.

Yet the music is just as much a character as the dueling composers. As Salieri points out early on, everyone recognizes Mozart’s best work, and his best work is put on full display, with even extended stage performances from opera like The Magic Flute and Don Giovanni. (I watched Milos Forman’s Director’s Cut.) Lovers of classical music will revel in the score, but even non-fans will likely appreciate watching the inception of masterpieces that have stood the test of time.

While I recognize the film as a magnum opus for everyone involved, there’s something that bugs me and keeps it from ranking among my favorites. It may seem shallow or unsympathetic, but as I watched Salieri spiral into a tortured wretch of envy, cursing God for giving Mozart the talent he craved for himself, I just wanted to slap him and say “Get over it!” It’s drama, and I know such unbridled jealousy does happen, but I hate when people compare themselves to others because no matter how good you are at anything, there will always be someone better. Salieri had a high-profile position, money, and respect, and instead of viewing Mozart as a colleague, however vulgar he may have been, he made him the source of an inferiority complex, ultimately contributing to his ruin, for which Salieri received nothing but guilt. He may have blamed God, but the fault was his own. It’s a marvelously complicated portrayal of destructive envy that nonetheless frustrated me almost as much as Mozart’s laugh.

Looking back, 1984 was undoubtedly one of the big movie years in history, and it says a lot that Amadeus was able to sweep the Oscars that year, winning Best Picture, Actor, Director, Adapted Screenplay, Art Direction, Costume Design, Makeup, and Sound. Impeccably mounted in its 18^th/19^th-century setting, it’s an overly long but outstanding period piece conveying a historic rivalry that, while fictionalized, still resonates.

Best line: (Salieri) “All I wanted was to sing to God. He gave me that longing… and then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If He didn’t want me to praise Him with music, why implant the desire, like a lust in my body, and then deny me the talent?”

 

Rank:  List Runner-Up

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
642 Followers and Counting

 

Mary Poppins Returns (2018)

Tags

Disney, Family, Fantasy, Musical

They say that you cannot return to the days
When the world held the awe it no longer displays.
The people and scenes are no more in their prime,
And you aren’t the you that you were at the time.
The flavors and sounds may be echoing still,
But the farther you get, the more gone is the thrill.

The memory seals them away as in glass,
Preserving their pricelessness as the years pass.
And even as foolish modernity tries
Revisiting heirlooms to revitalize,
Nostalgia may warrant a smile and sigh
At the echoes that fade but are sure not to die.
_______________________

MPAA rating: PG

There are some movies that shouldn’t be touched by Hollywood’s incessant need to remake its old classics, not necessarily because the originals are better by default, but because there’s no way they can compete with a film that was, is, and always will be a classic. I thought for sure that Mary Poppins was one of those movies, but Disney had other ideas. What they delivered in Mary Poppins Returns is as close as the modern day can come to the old-school style that created its predecessor, but try as it might, there’s just something missing.

Julie Andrews is irreplaceable, but when I heard Emily Blunt was to play Poppins, I figured she had the best chance of anyone to fill her shoes. And in many ways, she does, right from the moment she floats in on the end of a kite flown by one of Michael Banks’s children. Michael (Ben Whishaw) is all grown up now, a widower still reeling from the loss of his wife and struggling to hold onto the family home. Despite his and Jane’s (Emily Mortimer) best efforts, Michael’s three largely responsible kids are in need of some comfort and whimsy, and thus Mary Poppins steps in, perhaps a bit more smile-prone than before but close to the way they/we all remember her.

Mary Poppins Returns is a lot like Star Wars: The Force Awakens in its faithful adherence to the original (some might say too faithful). It follows the general plot of its forerunner to a tee, the same character types, the same sequence of events. Instead of jumping into a chalk drawing, they spin into a cracked ceramic bowl for another semi-animated holiday; instead of floating with Mary’s Uncle Albert, they turn upside-down with her cousin Topsy (Meryl Streep). In place of Dick Van Dyke’s chimney sweep Bert, there’s Lin-Manuel Miranda as lamplighter Jack, doing an excellent job at being casually charming. There are differences, of course, such as the presence of a genuine villain in Colin Firth’s bank president, but sticking so close to the original formula just begs for direct comparison, and Mary Poppins Returns just doesn’t quite match the first.

Yet it’s so close to the spirit of the original that I can’t help but wonder how much the original relies on nostalgia. Mary Poppins is an incomparable, wholesome family movie, but I am surprised at times to think that Julie Andrews won her Oscar for it rather than The Sound of Music. Its plot is loose and episodic, so I can’t criticize the sequel for being the same. I knew my VC, as a staunch fan of the first film, would have the hardest time accepting Mary Poppins Returns, and while she gave it a good try and liked the beginning, she essentially checked out when it no longer conformed to her idea of what Mary Poppins should be.

At one point in the entertaining segment with animation, Mary gets up on stage to perform with Jack and sings some slightly risqué lyrics. My VC immediately thought, “Mary Poppins would never do that,” and the facsimiled magic was broken. That’s why revisiting such classics is so potentially treacherous; while original content is subject to the creator’s whims, sequels and remakes depend on the audience’s. The same happened with The Last Jedi and the whole “not my Luke” debacle; I loved the film but couldn’t deny all of its criticisms. As with Mary Poppins Returns, it’s simply a matter of whether it bothers you or not.

It probably sounds like I didn’t like Mary Poppins Returns, but I did, just not as much as its classic forebear. The music and choreography aren’t as memorable, and by the two-thirds mark, it was bordering on boring, making me think it could have benefited from a shorter runtime than 130 minutes. Yet it has an old-school charm, evident in both the vintage streets of live-action London and the small but welcome return of some 2D Disney animation. In many ways, I’m just glad that movies like this can still be made today and perhaps capture the hearts and future nostalgia of another generation. It at least does no harm to the legacy and spirit of the original and, especially toward the end, comes closer than I ever thought a modern-made Mary Poppins sequel could come.

Best line: (Mary Poppins, singing) “Nothing’s gone forever, only out of place.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
633 Followers and Counting

 

2019 Blindspot Pick #3: Dancer in the Dark (2000)

Tags

Drama, Musical

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a list poem, so, based on this film, I wrote a list of things that make my heart ache. Try singing it to the tune of “My Favorite Things,” which was used in the movie.)

Signs that the world is a heinous taskmaster,
Questions with answers unfair to the asker,
Innocence tainted by lack of concern:
These are the lessons it pains me to learn.

Optimists dashed and brought low for their dreaming,
Bitterness tinged by a sweetness redeeming,
Love too naïve to be wary of hate,
Promises broken or kept far too late,

When the dog dies,
When the tale ends,
When I need to grieve,
My broken heart summons the tears as it mends,
For they never truly leave.
_____________________

MPAA rating: R (more for intensity, what’s shown is closer to PG-13)

Due to his reputation for controversy, I’ve never been eager to watch the films of Lars von Trier. Yet I’ve been long curious about Dancer in the Dark, and my Blindspot series seemed like a prime chance to find out how a musical could also be considered among the most depressing movies of all time. I have a finicky regard for unapologetic downers. I love Grave of the Fireflies and The Elephant Man dearly, yet I can’t stand something like Seize the Day or The Hours. It depends on the film and the person whether it has the desired effect, and Dancer in the Dark hit me harder than I was expecting.

I only knew of Icelandic singer Bjork for her strange style of singing, but she proves to be perfect for the role of a Czech immigrant mother struggling to provide her son with a better life. Having settled in Washington State in the 1960s, Selma Jezkova works hard in a factory with her friend Kathy (Catherine Deneuve), rents a trailer from a kind couple (David Morse, Cara Seymour), practices for a small stage production of The Sound of Music, and is slowly going blind. She’s been saving up for an operation so that her son need not bear the same affliction, which begins to impede her daily life.

Throughout the first half, the film gives every reason to love these characters, everyone sympathetic and helpful to Selma, including a would-be suitor she rebuffs (Peter Stormare). I could relate to Selma’s love of musicals and admired her commitment to her son, even if her stubbornness got in the way sometimes. Then, by believable but heartbreaking measures, one character’s selfishness and self-loathing become destructive and ruin everything that Selma has built.

Dancer in the Dark is not the kind of film I would expect to like, choppily edited and shot with a grainy, hand-held camera in a style that is apparently part of a semi-genre/movement called Dogme 95, which von Trier helped to establish. It’s an odd mixture when this style focused on realism suddenly shifts into the magical realism of Selma’s daydreams, musical segments where the sounds she hears become rhythmic as the colors brighten and friends and bystanders break into choreography.

It’s not shot like a typical musical, nor are the songs instantly catchy like something from Broadway. Bjork’s singing is even distracting at times, making the lyrics hard to understand. Yet it’s more about the feelings the songs create, and they strike deep. One revels in Selma’s love of musicals, even as it betrays her. After a horrific event, one song plays out the way Selma surely wishes it could go under better circumstances. Again, it’s a strange juxtaposition, but it works, in a way I can only compare to how humor was mixed with tragedy in Life Is Beautiful.

The leadup to the tragic climax is probably strung out too much, but Dancer in the Dark left me haunted as few films do, and while some critics have dismissed it as shameless melodrama, it earns its heartbreak in my book. While it’s not a perfect comparison, since Selma actually commits a crime, the way the world turns on her brought to my mind the trial and suffering of Christ, a parallel strengthened by Selma’s line about her son’s operation, that it would be known “that he was paid for.”

With strong supporting work from Deneuve, Morse, and Siobhan Fallon (even a cameo from Joel Grey), Dancer in the Dark proved to be an acting powerhouse thanks to Bjork herself, who staggeringly was passed over for an Oscar nomination despite winning Best Actress at Cannes. She and the film itself may be an acquired taste and a bitter one at that, but their power is undeniable.

Best line:  (Bill Houston) “I love the movies. I just love the musicals.”
(Selma) “But isn’t it annoying when they do the last song in the films?”
(Bill) “Why?”
(Selma) “Because you just know when it goes really big… and the camera goes like out of the roof… and you just know it’s going to end. I hate that. I would leave just after the next to last song… and the film would just go on forever.”

 

Rank: List-Worthy

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
621 Followers and Counting

 

Into the Woods (2014)

Tags

Disney, Drama, Fantasy, Musical

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a villanelle, a special form with alternating repeated lines as below, and the prompt suggested incorporating someone else’s words. The repeated lines I used are drawn from the musical Into the Woods, along with part of the theme.)

Careful the tale you tell,
For tales are not words but adventures and fates;
All stories cast a spell.

They conjure the best and worst places to dwell,
And leave you in clouds or burdened by weights.
Careful the tale you tell.

Emotions on strings as they rise and repel
Are pulled by the magic that fiction creates.
All stories cast a spell.

No louche Casanova, no wish from a well
Has broken more hearts or honored more dates.
Careful the tale you tell.

Each one is a world and a ceiling-less cell,
Where soon-to-be-friends and a new home awaits.
All stories cast a spell.

When fantasy finally bids you farewell,
How do you feel as the world deviates?
Careful the tale you tell;
All stories cast a spell.
______________________

MPAA rating:  PG

Those familiar with this blog might already know that I’m a huge fan of musicals. While others roll their eyes or cringe at all-sung films like Les Miserables, I love it. There’s something about the combination of song, lyric, dance, and story that I find particularly appealing and entertaining. However, not all musicals are equal, and all four (sometimes three minus dance) of those ingredients have to be on point for the magic to work. Into the Woods comes so close to nailing them all, yet by the end, I could only wonder what went wrong.

Based on Stephen Sondheim’s popular musical, which is just as old as The Phantom of the Opera, Into the Woods weaves multiple fairy tale stories together: Little Red Riding Hood, Jack and the Beanstalk, Cinderella (Anna Kendrick), Rapunzel, and an original connecting tale of a Baker (James Corden) and his Wife (Emily Blunt) seeking out spell ingredients for a desperate Witch (Meryl Streep). The way the stories blend together and overlap, playing out in familiar ways with unexpected connections, is a joy to watch, especially with hammy but committed performances from Johnny Depp, Chris Pine, and Streep (who shockingly got an Oscar nomination; she’s good, but this is probably her least deserving role).

It’s a highly enjoyable movie, or rather two-thirds of a movie, because at a certain point, it’s just…ruined. At a happy moment that could have ended the film well, the story suddenly takes a left turn into disaster and tragedy and shattered reputations. It’s a dark move, which is apparently even darker in the stage version, and it saps most of the enjoyment from the film as a whole.

Even if none of the songs are instant classics likely to live long in the memory, the music is the saving grace of Into the Woods. My VC thought the tunes were a bit too repetitious, lacking the complexity or vocal range of Phantom or Les Mis, but, as a poet, I especially admired the clever lyrics and rhymes. It has outstanding production values and strong performances too, but in its effort to offer a darkly unsatisfying take on beloved stories, this fractured fairy tale proves to be a failed musical in my book. My VC and I agree that we would recommend the first two thirds; just bail when the tale goes to pot.

Best line: (the Baker’s Wife) “Oh, if life were made of moments, even now and then a bad one – But if life were only moments, then you’d never know you had one.”

 

Rank:  Dishonorable Mention

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
619 Followers and Counting

 

A Star Is Born (2018)

Tags

Drama, Musical, Romance

When tragedies have run their course,
Demanding pity and remorse,
It’s easy wondering if they
Could end up any other way,
The fruit of foolishness and force.

Yet tragedies are not complete
Without some happiness’ retreat.
Contentment grief could not erase,
However brief, once offered grace
To take the bitter with the sweet.

The stars will fall one mournful night,
But only once they shed their light.
Those basking in it aren’t aware
Of pain that stars refuse to share,
Yet when they shine, oh, what a sight!
______________________

MPAA rating: R (for very frequent language and brief nudity)

Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to write or review much recently, not only because of Thanksgiving but because of the increasing demands of school. That will probably only get worse over the next two months (sorry!), but I wanted to make time for the latest version of A Star Is Born. Nearly two years ago, I did a Version Variations post comparing the three former incarnations of A Star Is Born – the 1937 original, the 1954 Judy Garland musical, and the 1976 Barbra Streisand musical – and I couldn’t help but notice the huge surge in views that post got when Bradley Cooper’s latest film hit theaters. Back then, I made a fleeting reference to another version in the works, and at last here it is, a heavy-hitting Oscar contender that deserves the same appraisal as its forerunners.

Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga have been rightly lauded for this modern retelling of a decades-old story. It’s likely familiar to many: A big star discovers a budding talent, falls in love, and helps her own ascent to the top while crashing pitifully into drunken disgrace. In addition to producing and directing, Cooper plays Jackson Maine, the big name in country rock who is taken with an unknown singer named Ally (Lady Gaga) and whisks her into the limelight.

Cooper is almost unrecognizable next to previous roles like Silver Linings Playbook, bearded, singing admirably, and boasting a much deeper voice than usual, one that still doesn’t quite match that of Sam Elliott as his older brother/manager. By the time Ally reaches stardom, it’s easy to see why Cooper insisted on Lady Gaga’s casting, but she delivers more than just her distinctive voice, nailing the dramatic moments just as well as more established actresses. Stripped of her famously absurd costumes and style, it’s easier to see why she’s such a star, and it’s an interesting reversal that Ally balks at the prospect of being forced into changing her hair and adding background dancers, lest she lose herself in celebrity.

One of my coworkers wasn’t a fan of the characterization of the two leads, but I think most view the acting as close to beyond reproach, which is why Cooper and Gaga are both Oscar favorites at the moment, not unlike the main stars of the 1937 and 1954 versions. Likewise, the soundtrack is outstanding, with a blend of rockabilly and pop, headbangers and heartfelt elegies, that made me wonder which one might nab Best Original Song, since I could see most of them being worthy. (I will say that I think the 1976 film still has a more memorable soundtrack, but that might be due to my personal preferences.)

How then does this 2018 version compare with what came before? The story at its heart and conclusion is still the same, but this incarnation might have the least in common with its predecessors. The other versions (especially the 1954 one) had some scenes that were directly plucked from the one before, while the one constant that carries over into the latest version is the awards embarrassment, where Maine’s flaws are made painfully public at the Grammys. I suppose its rock ‘n’ roll context and final scene are closest in spirit to the 1976 Streisand version, but Cooper did a fine job at making this story his own.

That being said, it’s not above criticism. I personally think that the “meet-cute” between Jackson and Ally, which happens in a drag bar before they head out to a grocery store parking lot, is the weakest of the four. There’s clearly chemistry, but when Ally starts singing an impromptu song supposedly on the fly, I didn’t really buy it.

Luckily, the plot improves as it goes, putting some of the strongest scenes of any version in the second half. Jackson himself amid his addiction is especially portrayed well, particularly a heart-wrenching scene where he genuinely apologizes to Ally for embarrassing her. The 1976 version left me uncertain whether Kris Kristofferson’s character really loved Streisand’s, especially since it’s still the only version where he cheats on her; Cooper fixes that problem, painting Maine more clearly as a tragic failure of good intentions corrupted by substance abuse. The other versions were certainly sad, but Cooper’s truly embraces the story’s potential as a tearjerker.

As to be expected from an R-rated Oscar contender, the biggest problem I had with A Star Is Born is the nearly constant profanity. I know the F-word is getting more pervasive in today’s culture by the day, but when the script includes over a hundred of them, it just feels like a lazy placeholder word, ultimately without meaning. To be honest, it’s more annoying than offensive, especially when it’s hard to imagine how it could ever be cut enough to be shown on normal TV.

After much deliberation, I think I would rank this A Star Is Born second among the four, and not just because of the language complaint. The 1937 version remains the best in my opinion, thanks to its insightful script. (Plus, I love that Grandma Lettie!) Cooper’s version proves that there is still life in this story, especially when delivered with nuance and brilliant performances. It also disproves the law of diminishing returns with this tale being remade every few decades, making me wonder what the next remake thirty years from now might look like.

Best line: (Bobby,  Jackson’s half-brother) “Jack talked about how music is essentially twelve notes between any octave. Twelve notes, and the octave repeats. It’s the same story told over and over, forever. All any artist can offer the world is how they see those twelve notes. That’s it. He loved how you see them.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
594 Followers and Counting

 

VC Pick: Flashdance (1983)

Tags

Drama, Musical, Romance, VC Pick

While “work all day and dance all night”
May be a habit hard to break,
It pays the bills to underwrite
The hopes believed by us alone,
The quarter-baked ambition-prone,
Who dare to dream for dreaming’s sake,
For people’s dreams are all their own.
___________________

MPAA rating: R (for language, sensuality, and nudity in a strip club scene)

Flashdance is actually a perfect example of a VC Pick, a movie that my VC enjoys far more than I and one that I only ended up seeing after quite a bit of persistence on her part. This slice of ‘80s danciness isn’t all that different from Travolta’s Staying Alive from the same year: underdog dreamer uses their athletic dance talent to hit it big and achieve their professional dream. Instead of a man overcoming a lustful partner, though, Jennifer Beals’ Alex is a welder by day and bar dancer by night who has to overcome her own self-confidence and dare to become a ballet dancer.

I can see why my VC enjoys Flashdance, at the very least for its dance scenes and soundtrack, which made the rounds on MTV back in its early days and were used effectively to promote the movie. While the film makes an odd but ardent distinction between dancing sensually and scantily clad in a bar to pop music versus actual stripping, it certainly boasts some outstanding dance sequences, most of which don’t really add anything to the plot but at least look good. To complement them, the Grammy-winning soundtrack includes some quintessential ‘80s tunes that still get decent airplay on the radio, from “Maniac” during a particularly strenuous workout to “Gloria” to the Oscar-winning theme song, Irene Cara’s “Flashdance…What a Feeling.”

A few have become iconic pieces of pop culture (the water falling over the chair, the final audition), but some of the less famous dances are just as memorable, from the gyrating “Manhunt” dance by Cynthia Rhodes (also from Staying Alive) to a trippy sequence with Alex and a unique strobing effect. The strobe dance is my VC’s favorite, though my appreciation for it was tempered by my concern for any epileptic viewers. I don’t think they put disclaimers on films of the ‘80s like they did recently with The Incredibles 2, so I can’t help but wonder how many unsuspecting viewers were negatively affected by that scene.

Aside from the music and dancing, Flashdance is fairly thin, following Alex’s relationship with her boss (Michael Nouri) and her attempts to build up the courage for ballet school. Some scenes depend on how the viewer approaches them: When Alex’s boss follows her home after saving her from a lecherous jerk (Lee Ving), you could easily see it as sweet of him to protect her or borderline creepy since he had been trying to court her and now knows where she lives. (Luckily the movie opts for the former view.) Without the music, Flashdance would be hardly worth watching, but it still manages to leave you with that satisfied dreams-do-come-true kind of glow as the credits roll. My VC loves it, and Jennifer Beals is lovely, but, next time, I’d be just fine watching its music video high points instead of the whole thing.

Best line: (Alex) “I told you, I don’t think it’s a good idea to go out with the boss.”   (Nick, jokingly) “OK. Have it your way. You’re fired. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eight.”

 

Rank: Honorable Mention

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
585 Followers and Counting

 

Mom’s Pick: Grease (1978) / Grease 2 (1982)

Tags

Comedy, Musical, Romance

Some stories just don’t have appeal
For some strange reason. They may be
Not real enough or all too real,
Too boring, sad, or scholarly.

For some uncertain reason, though,
They’re loved by someone you love more,
A mother, father, friend, and so
You watch, for their sake more than yours.

But once they’re gone, no longer close
To coax you toward what once annoyed,
You find yourself in need of a dose
Of something they had once enjoyed.
_____________________

MPAA rating for Grease: PG-13
MPAA rating for Grease 2: PG (should be PG-13)

Instead of picking a film about a strong mother, as I’ve done in the past, this Mother’s Day, I thought I’d review a pair of films my mom has specifically asked for…several times. The poem is not meant to say she’s gone, because I just watched these films with her, but when that dark day comes, I feel that I’ll associate movies like these with her. So Happy Mother’s Day, Mom and all you mothers out there!

I grew up loving the High School Musical films and sort of looking down on Grease. I was the perfect age to dance and sing along to the clean-cut HSM series, while Grease just seemed like a more risqué grandparent. Even if Grease came much much earlier, I know which musical about high school romance I still prefer. Yet I must give Grease its due: it’s still a high-energy musical that captures its ‘50s high school setting with as much fun as it knows how. And its sequel, um, tries to be that too.

Based on a 1971 musical popular on Broadway, Grease is not unlike American Graffiti, both films made in the 1970s but set in and remembering the 1950s, which are shown to be less wholesome than nostalgia makes us think. After a summer romance, Danny (John Travolta, fresh from Saturday Night Fever) and Sandy (gorgeous Olivia Newton-John) unexpectedly meet again at the start of Rydell High’s school year, and their relationship gets bumpy as Danny tries to act tough for his greaser friends while Sandy seems too goody-goody for a clique called the Pink Ladies.

I do want to be clear: I like Grease, but I don’t quite get why many people consider it among the best musicals of all time. I do love the high-spirited school dance and the final two numbers, and several songs are iconic. My mom has told me of how popular hits like “Grease,” “Summer Nights,” and “You’re the One That I Want” were on the radio at the time. There’s a wealth of classic older actors I barely know (Eve Arden, Sid Caesar, Dody Goodman, Frankie Avalon), and the car race is also great fun, even throwing in a Ben-Hur reference.

Yet the film surrounding these high points feels somewhat lacking, which is probably what fans of Grease say about High School Musical. Perhaps I don’t like how Sandy is transformed from Miss “Sandra Dee” into a would-be slut, with no explanation except the realization that she has to change for Danny. Plus, Danny’s fellow T-Birds don’t stand out to me, while Stockard Channing’s cynical Rizzo is just rather unpleasant to be around. These are fairly negligible reasons to dislike Grease, but they’re the best I can come up with for why it’s not one of my favorite musicals. I know that High School Musical is indebted to Grease in both inspiration and plot (the school colors are even the same, red and white), but I guess I just prefer the unrealistically innocent side of high school. Or maybe it just depends on what you grew up with.

Still, I know I like Grease, but I’m less certain about Grease 2. Widely derided as a ridiculous retread of its predecessor, Grease 2 has still managed to find fans of the so-bad-it’s-good variety, including my mom and a friend of mine from work. I’m pretty sure I can label it a bad movie, but it’s inconsistently bad, which I suppose translates to inconsistently good too. While Grease had a solid base with musical highs, Grease 2 swings wildly from musical highs to cringe-worthy lows.

Sandy’s English cousin Michael (Maxwell Caulfield) arrives at Rydell High as another transfer student, who becomes enamored of Pink Lady Stephanie Zinone (Michelle Pfeiffer in her first leading role) and endeavors to win her over by becoming a motorcycle man of mystery. I can’t say the acting is terrible exactly, but I just never believed anyone, especially Caulfield as Michael, who my mom considers dreamy but whose character remains paper-thin. Pfeiffer is a surprising bright spot, particularly with the song “Cool Rider,” flexing the musical chops she also got to use in The Prince of Egypt and Hairspray.

While most of Grease’s cast doesn’t return, I liked the few who did make an appearance, including several teachers, Dennis Stewart’s bad guy, and Didi Conn as Frenchy. Several of the musical numbers are actually great fun, especially in the beginning with the Four Tops’ “Back to School Again,” which ought to be the anthem for the start of every school year.

But other moments just leave me wondering what the heck the writers were thinking. An entire song about “Reproduction”? Nuns at a bowling alley? By the time Stephanie was imagining Michael in biker heaven, with none of the wink, wink of the first film’s “Beauty School Dropout” sequence, I didn’t know what to think about this movie. It’s just too easy to mock at times (notice toward the end how characters are floating on a pool, then disappear just long enough for someone to crash in before reappearing). Yet my mom just smiles through the cheesier parts and likes it anyway.

With its classic pop-rock-style, Grease is a good bet for people who think they don’t like musicals, while Grease 2 is for those who know they like cheesy musicals. It’s cool to see Pfeiffer’s origins, and if you don’t compare it to the original, there’s fun to be had even in an objectively bad movie. I still like High School Musical way more, but I will always carry some fondness for these films, if only because I now associate these films with my mom, who insisted I see and review them for her. You could say “we’ll always be together.”

Best line from Grease:  (Marty) Do you think these glasses make me look smarter?”   (Rizzo) “No, you can still see your face.”
Best line from Grease 2: (girl, to principal) “I’m a little worried… I’ve missed my last two periods.”   (Principal McGee) “That’s all right, dear; you can make them up after school.”

 

Rank for Grease: List Runner-Up
Rank for Grease 2: Honorable Mention (barely)

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
571 Followers and Counting

 

Pitch Perfect 3 (2017)

Tags

Comedy, Musical

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a poem based in sound, such as using a song lyric. So, thinking of this movie, I tried to incorporate a different song lyric, possibly altered, for each line or two and combine them together. It’s a little different, but hopefully it turned out okay.)

 

Am I part of the cure or am I part of the disease,
Or is that just how I feel? Am I wrong
For feeling so lonely, for feeling so blue?
It’s something to do.
All I know are sad songs.

There’s an old voice in my head that’s holding me back—
You said you loved me; you’re a liar.
There’s not much love to go around
Till I reach the highest ground.
We didn’t light the fire.

Some never pray, but tonight we’re on our knees;
Take my tears and that’s not nearly all.
There will be an answer, let it be;
One day, my father—he told me,
“A tiny rock can make a giant fall.”

(Songs used, in order: “Clocks” by Coldplay, “Am I Wrong” by Nico & Vinz, “Crazy” by Patsy Cline, “I Took a Pill in Ibiza” by Mike Posner (two lines), “Little Talks” by Of Monsters and Men, “Grenade” by Bruno Mars, “Land of Confusion” by Genesis, “Higher Ground” by Stevie Wonder, “We Didn’t Light the Fire” by Billy Joel, “Bittersweet Symphony” by The Verve, “Tainted Love” by Soft Cell, “Let it Be” by The Beatles, “The Nights” by Avicii, “Dream Small” by Josh Wilson)

___________________________

MPAA rating: PG-13

I wanted to hope that the Pitch Perfect series might avoid the slump that often comes with a third installment in a franchise, but Pitch Perfect 3 is what I would call a slump, not a total disaster but a slump nonetheless. I was in the minority in actually enjoying Pitch Perfect 2 more than the original, simply because I found it funnier, but Pitch Perfect 3 is undoubtedly the weakest of the three, though still fitfully entertaining.

Things seemed to be looking up for the Barden Bellas at the end of the second movie, but in order to make another sequel, this third film saddles all of the now-graduated a cappella singers with dead-end jobs and unfulfilling lives, also jettisoning their boyfriends. That way, they eagerly reunite for a new tour/competition, this time entertaining troops in Europe with the USO and vocally sparring against bands with actual instruments for the opportunity to open for DJ Khaled (who is apparently a big deal, though I’d never heard of him before this). That plot sounds too simple of a cut-and-paste from its predecessors, so there’s also a kidnapping spy plot thrown in involving Fat Amy’s conniving father (John Lithgow).

I will say that my enjoyment of Pitch Perfect 2 helped me to bring a lot of good will to this follow-up, and it was nice to see all the Bellas together again for the last(?) time. The colorful personalities are much the same, from Fat Amy’s (Rebel Wilson) boorish self-confidence (why was she so mean to Hailee Steinfeld?) to Lilly’s (Hana Mae Lee) soft-spoken weirdness, which gets an unexpected explanation/punchline near the end. Brittany Snow is still the prettiest of the Bellas (in my humble opinion), and Beca (Anna Kendrick) is still figuring out what she really wants out of the music industry. In fact, one Bella’s absence from the tour (sex-obsessed Stacy, played by Alexis Knapp) due to her pregnancy is a sign that they’re all getting older and indeed need to find their place in the world.

Aside from the characters, though, the plot is a bit of a mess, with the competition losing much of its weight by the end and Lithgow’s needless villain helming an over-the-top subplot that does feel like the franchise jumping the shark. As evidenced by the strained presence of Elizabeth Banks’ and John Michael Higgins’ aca-commentators, the jokes are also not as funny as in the other films, and the musical moments less memorable. Still, the ending felt like a fitting one for the series, even using one of my and my VC’s favorite songs (George Michael’s “Freedom”). It’s still amusing and I still liked Pitch Perfect 3, but unless they really bring new life to another reunion, I do hope it’s the last one.

Best line: (Calamity, introducing the members of the band Evermoist) “I’m Calamity. This is Serenity, Veracity, and Charity.”   (Fat Amy) “If I joined your group, I could be obesity.”

 

Rank: Honorable Mention

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
564 Followers and Counting

 

The Greatest Showman (2017)

Tags

Biopic, Drama, Family, History, Musical, Romance

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a poem about a secret shame or secret pleasure, and this recent film’s subject seemed to fit the bill perfectly.)

 
I know I shouldn’t like it. It’s offensive and uncouth,
So say the few who rule opinion rather than the truth.
It’s liable to rock the boat that should be left alone
And make me think the world has wider interests than my own.

It’s odd and loud and so lowbrow that it will never be
Completely free of grievances and animosity,
And those who claim approval for a thing condemned so far
Will lose esteem as others deem them equally bizarre.

I know I shouldn’t like it, based on cruel analysis,
The kind that glares and does not care how personal joy is.
But if I say I like it, surely I won’t be alone;
There’s always some who won’t succumb to sanctions set in stone.
__________________

MPAA rating: PG

I love musicals, and I don’t really understand people who don’t. When catchy music, a compelling story, and strong performances combine, it’s sheer magic, and even one or two out of the three can still be darn entertaining. I had high hopes for The Greatest Showman, and this is one of those rare cases where a movie met and exceeded my expectations.

The film tells the fictionalized story of P.T. Barnum (Jackman), from his humble beginnings as a tailor’s son to his romance with the well-to-do Charity Hallett (Michelle Williams) to his risky efforts to open a museum of the odd and unusual. Barnum’s ploys draw the ire of savage critics, and he endeavors to appeal to both the common man with his circus and the judgmental elite with a new right-hand man (Zac Efron) and a European opera star (Rebecca Ferguson).

I have no idea how true-to-life the film’s events are, and my guess would be probably not very. I’ve always thought of Barnum as an unabashed huckster taking advantage of people’s willingness to be fooled, and that’s certainly part of Jackman’s character. Yet he’s also depicted here as a devoted family man, and his profiting off of his circus of “freaks” also resulted in a newfound confidence and home for those who society had rejected. Jackman’s Barnum strikes a good balance between user and empowerer, and the film is wholly supportive of him and his sideshow, so engagingly in fact that its historical accuracy (or lack thereof) doesn’t detract one bit from the entertainment value.

Having loved both Les Miserables and High School Musical, it was wonderful seeing Jackman and Efron back in musical mode, joined by Williams and Efron’s fellow Disney Channel alum Zendaya as their respective love interests. Yet as good as its stars are, The Greatest Showman soars on the strength of its music, courtesy of Broadway duo Pasek and Paul, who just won an Oscar last year for La La Land’s lyrics and a Grammy and Tony for the show Dear Evan Hansen. I’d already heard the biggest numbers “The Greatest Show” and “This Is Me” (Golden Globe winner and Oscar nominee for Best Song), but I wanted to experience the rest of the soundtrack firsthand as part of the movie. Those two are wonderful with “The Greatest Show” (uninterrupted) probably being my favorite, but the whole soundtrack is electric. I was dancing in my seat during “Come Alive” and “From Now On,” and the exuberant choreography only added to the infectious joy. I could recognize first-time director Michael Gracey’s experience with music videos, since even a barroom conversation between Jackman and Efron is given rare visual flair, though the reliance on CGI at times does crack the illusion a little.

It seems strangely fitting that The Greatest Showman’s real-life success mirrors its subject. Many critics have complained about inspirational fakery, and it currently has an inexplicable 55% on Rotten Tomatoes. Audiences, on the other hand, know a good thing when they see it, and as Barnum himself says, they don’t care if they’re being fooled when they’re happy. It’s easy to criticize something as shallow, but does it really matter if you genuinely enjoyed it? There’s such a thing as a guilty pleasure, but I feel no guilt for loving The Greatest Showman in all its inspirational, misfit-embracing, crowd-pleasing glory. It’s a wholesome spectacle I can’t wait to see again and, after the acclaim of last year’s La La Land, hopefully a sign that original movie musicals are becoming popular again. (Can someone please adapt Wicked or Hamilton now?)

Best line: (Barnum) “Hyperbole isn’t the worst crime. Men suffer more from imagining too little than too much.”

 

Rank: Top 100-Worthy

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
547 Followers and Counting

A very Happy Easter to everyone!