Matilda

The 2019 Reel Infatuation Blogathon is an event devoted to favorite movie characters, hosted by Silver Screenings and Font and Frock. For a complete list of participating bloggers, visit the links at either site.

Matilda
from my VHS collection 

No one believes us when we talk about Matilda, but that’s how it is with grownups. They think just because you’re little you don’t know anything. 

That’s so dumb. 

Matilda was our friend. She could do things, magic things. She got rid of the Trunchbull. But the grownups always say it was something else.

Except for Miss Honey. She loved Matilda. That’s why they’re together now.

Matilda saved all of us and that’s why we love her too.

But her story is pretty weird.

New year's links

The Christmas/New Year's week was very good. Virginia and I spent Christmas Night at another holiday dinner with friends. On New Year's Eve, she and Sandi were part of a large chorus that performs a NYE show every year.

Afterwards, a whole bunch of us rang in the new year at the same bar and grill where Virginia and I first got to really know each other a year ago (we consider it our anniversary), so NYE has taken on an added significance for me. Have I mentioned lately how lucky I am to have her in my life?

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The latest draft of the novel is done but it's not ready to go out yet. I know this for certain; it's better than it was a year ago, but it's not where it oughta be yet, so I gotta tighten it up some more.

The good news is I've got some beta readers looking it over, though I could use a few more — especially baseball fans. If anyone out there is interested, e-mail me at ratzo318@yahoo.com and let's talk.

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A brief word about Penny Marshall: Laverne and Shirley was one of my favorite sitcoms and Big was one of my favorite films growing up. I vaguely remember being a bit surprised to learn she was becoming a director, but she turned into a very successful one indeed. As a comedienne, she was enjoyable and part of my childhood; as a director, she proved to have an even more special talent that deserved to flourish more than it did. She was a trailblazer for the likes of Kathryn Bigelow, Ava DuVernay, Greta Gerwig and more. She'll be missed.

More after the jump.

A Wrinkle in Time

A Wrinkle in Time
seen @ Alamo Drafthouse, Yonkers NY

Madeleine L'Engle almost gave up writing by age forty on account of all the rejections she kept receiving. The reality of rejection is something I've read about on a few writers blogs: how one has to accept the fact that no matter how spectacular you think your work is, the odds of you hitting a home run with it the first time at bat, or the tenth, are slim at best. Some writers tell you to embrace rejection as a fact of writing life, since it's happened to the best authors as well as the worst.

I haven't written enough to experience rejection to the same degree, partially because much of my work is self-published — including this blog, in a way. I know when I finish revising my novel and sending it out to authors, though (assuming I don't self-publish that too), I'll have to face that reality as well. I'm probably not ready for that, but who ever is?

L'Engle's book A Wrinkle in Time was rejected over thirty times. I cannot imagine what that must be like: to receive a litany of no's yet to keep going anyway. Actually, I take that back, I can imagine that: I suspect it's like going on blind date after blind date and never getting past that initial dinner-and-a-movie stage. You question your self-worth.

One of the wittiest and most heartfelt books about writing is Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott. She talks about what she calls "the myth of publication":

...Many nonwriters assume that publication is a thunderously joyous event in the writer's life, and it is certainly the biggest and brightest carrot dangling before the eyes of my students. They believe that if they themselves were to get published, their lives would change instantly, dramatically, and for the better. Their self-esteem would flourish, all self-doubt would be erased like a typo. Entire paragraphs and manuscripts of disappointment and rejection and lack of faith would be wiped out by one push of a psychic delete button and replaced by a quiet, tender sense of worth and belonging. Then they could wrap the world in flame.

But this is not exactly what happens. Or at any rate, this is not what it has been like for me.

L'Engle's path to publication is by no means unique, but it's a textbook example of how a writer needs (justified) faith in their work, even in this time where self-publishing your work is easier than before. My path is probably harder than many: I'm writing a sports novel, not exactly a popular genre — but it's what I want to do. I'll just have to suck up the inevitable rejections when the time comes. But I won't like it.

I never read Wrinkle as a kid. No particular reason; there were lots of books I never got around to in my childhood. Not sure how eight-year-old me would have taken to it, but I imagine the religious elements would've flown over my head — except I'm told there's a scene with Jesus, Buddha, Einstein and Gandhi all together, as a kind of spiritual Justice League.

That did not make the new film adaptation of Wrinkle, needless to say. While I thought it was good, it did have a touchy-feely vibe to it, and knowing of L'Engle's spiritual beliefs now, I can see why, even though much of the religious aspects were expunged for the film.

It reminded me, in part, of The NeverEnding Story. The nebulous force known only as the It (sans red balloons) is a lot like the Nothing, with similar effects — and love is the redemptive counterforce in the end. It's all very earnest, in its way, not that this is necessarily a bad thing.

The best line I read from Ava DuVernay about Wrinkle came when she was asked about opening a month after Black Panther, even though the two films have very little in common besides having black directors. She compared Panther to Michael Jackson's Thriller album and said she'd settle for being Prince's 1999 album, since they both came out in 1982. I thought that was funny. Still, if the reviews are any indication, she may have to settle for being the Rolling Stones' Still Life.

Once again I left my house well over three hours in advance to get to the Alamo Drafthouse in Yonkers, and once again I just barely made it, only this time the trains were to blame. The train that took me into Manhattan totally bypassed the station in which I had to get off because something had happened there; the conductor, of course, didn't specify. I had to get out at the next stop and walk back down 57th Street to take the uptown train to the Boogie Down Bronx — but then that train was delayed two stops from the end of the line for 15-20 minutes due to "signal problems." Have I mentioned how effed up the subways are lately?

Madeleine L'Engle's granddaughters write her biography

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
AMC viewing

As a kid, I had this peculiar habit whenever a musical, whether live-action or animated, came on TV: if I really loved the music, I'd write down the song titles, or at least, what I thought the titles were. This was important to me in some way I can't explain; it was as if by doing this, the songs became, I dunno, more mine in some fashion, like they'd be easier to remember.

I don't recall what I did with those lists. Maybe I stuck them in a notebook and left it in my desk. It's not like I went back and referred to them whenever the need arose. Why do kids do anything?

A number of those songs I committed to paper were written by Richard & Robert Sherman. The songwriting brothers - triple-Grammy winners and double-Oscar winners, along with a legion of other accolades - are the most prolific songwriting team in movie musical history. You know their songs because everyone knows their songs: "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious," "Chim Chim Cher-ee," "Bare Necessities," "It's a Small World (After All)," to name a few - many of them for Disney, for over four decades.

The scions of a songwriter, the Sherman Brothers first attracted the attention of Unca Walt when they wrote pop music for Mousketeer Annette Funicello in the late 50s/early 60s. In 1964 they struck gold with the earworm "It's a Small World (After All)," for the World's Fair. A year later, they made movie history with their soundtrack for Mary Poppins.

They went on to write songs (and a few screenplays) for film, TV and the stage, not to mention other theme park ditties and pop tunes, such as "You're Sixteen." Here's an excellent interview with them from 1996.

In the wake of their Mary Poppins success, British producer Albert Broccoli, caretaker of the James Bond film franchise, enticed the Sherman Brothers to provide the songs for an adaptation of another Ian Fleming story, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, co-written for the screen by director Ken Hughes and celebrated children's book author Roald Dahl.

Even now, I have to remind myself it's not a Disney movie, and with good reason. It's clearly an attempt to recreate the Poppins formula: it's a musical, set in Britain in the early 20th century; there are elements of magic and fantasy, with colorful characters; two children, brother and sister, play a part.

Broccoli even wanted to reunite Julie Andrews and Dick van Dyke for the leads, but he had to settle for the latter; Andrews wasn't interested and van Dyke only did it for the money. He's not a fan of the movie.

The Sherman Brothers' music here may not be as recognizable as that of Poppins, but I remembered a few from when I was a kid. A wide variety of characters got songs to sing. That was one of the few knocks I had against La La Land; Gosling and Stone did almost all of the singing, and other than the opening number, there were hardly any grand, epic numbers with lots of extras. Chitty had a few, of various sizes. The Shermans knew the value of diversity in the songs.

Van Dyke, in his prime, was no Gene Kelly, but he was good as a song and dance man; I had forgotten how good until I saw him here. If his recent performance at an LA Denny's is any indication, he hasn't lost much vocally. Sally Ann Howes was obviously brought in as an Andrews sound-alike, but she was a good sound-alike.

Watching this for the first time in I-don't-know-how-long, I was gratified at the number of names I now recognized besides van Dyke: Dahl, Broccoli, Benny Hill - even Barbara Windsor of the Carry On films, who appears in one scene. Still, it wasn't too hard to look at it like I was eight years old again. I was glad of that.

Groundhog's links

So far, the new format seems to be going over well. The pageview numbers are roughly comparable with what they were before the Switch, and the announcement of the CinemaScope Blogathon generated a whole lot of interest. Thanks once again on behalf of Becky and myself to everyone who's joining us for that next month.

Among the stuff to look forward to this month will include another venture into the hullaballoo that is the #TCMparty on Twitter, only this time I'll devote a post exclusively to my experience with it, which will be a first. I have a tentative idea which film to watch. It's one that I'm quite familiar with, so dividing my time between my TV and my cellphone shouldn't be much of a problem. As I've talked about before in this space, I'm still not convinced that live-tweeting a film is a habit I'd want to obtain, but I can't deny its popularity, and it certainly can be fun - in the absence of watching with real live people.

The Top 10 for 2014 should be ready, if not this week, then next week. At this point, the only movies I still haven't seen which could affect my selection (and that I wanna see, of course) are Still Alice and A Most Violent Year. I hope to get to the latter, at the very least. Also, I'll post my Oscar predictions and a brief post-Oscar recap.

I've already started sharing excerpts from my novel with my writing group and I'd say they like it. One guy said, in all seriousness, that I should start thinking about getting an agent because he's convinced it's marketable. I don't know about that. It's a sports novel, and from what I've read, sports novels are a rare and tiny niche. But it's also a tragic love story, so there's that too. 

Regardless, I'm well over 40,000 words at this stage and it's a slow, uphill climb. I'm impatient about it because I want the writing part to end so I can start revising, and a lot of times, I'm paralyzed by the lack of words coming to mind. What I'll do - something I learned during NaNoWriMo but didn't apply to my own writing until now - is that I'll write a generic description of what it is that's supposed to go in a certain paragraph and highlight it in red. Then, when it comes time to revise, I can go back and fill it in with the necessary detail. That has helped me a lot.

Your links for this month:

Speaking of Bill Murray, did you know about the other sci-fi film he made in 1984 - the one that never got released? Allow Will to elucidate.

Raquel reflects on the death of a loved one through a Lionel Barrymore film.

The Lady Eve saw The Godfather with a live orchestra.

Monstergirl has a really weird-sounding Gothic horror flick about a girl school with some funny business going on.

Don't think I've ever mentioned The Hollywood Revue before, so I'll do so now. Here, Angela reviews a new book about epic filmmaker Cecil B. DeMille.

My new favorite movie blog title is Cary Grant Won't Eat You. And the blog is pretty good, too. Here, the author laments that comedic acting remains unappreciated at the Oscars, using The Grand Budapest Hotel's Ralph Fiennes as a case study.

In last week's new release roundup, I linked to my report on a second-run Forest Hills theater that gambled on American Sniper to save them from extinction. I'm proud to say that they gambled and won.

Great article about the Loew's Wonder Theaters (including the Loew's Jersey City), then and now.

Are kids' adventure movies on the wane?

Finally, the issue of Newtown Literary with my short story "Airplanes" is now available for the Kindle.

The Princess Bride and fairness

Scott Roberts is a cartoonist friend of mine and is very erudite when it comes to American pop culture, and most other things, actually. Anyway, he recently wrote the following piece about the ending of The Princess Bride on his Facebook page and he has graciously allowed me to present it here, with only minor spelling corrections:

...At the end of the story, the boy is disappointed that Prince Humperdinck is not killed or, in any way that he can measure, punished for his deeds. In a traditional fairy tale he most likely would have been. His punishment may have even been one of great artistic irony. 

But the ending of THE PRINCESS BRIDE is actually truer to life. Westley is the bigger person. He chooses to let Humperdinck live, believing that the humiliation of his defeat and the undoing of his plans should be punishment enough. Noble and honorable. 

Little Fugitive

Little Fugitive
seen @ Landmark Loew's Jersey Theater,Jersey City, NJ
4.26.14

There was a television PSA that used to play on afternoons and Saturdays when I was a kid - I forget who specifically it was for - in which a little girl gets separated from her mother in a public place. All these strangers would come up to her, speaking different languages, presumably trying to help her but oblivious to the fact that she doesn't speak whatever language they're speaking. They're shot from the girl's POV, so it's as if they're addressing you, through the camera. Eventually someone identifies her mom and they're reunited. (That PSA creeped me out not because of the fear of getting lost in an unfamiliar place, but because of all those strangers!)

I don't recall many childhood incidents where I wandered off on my own. The most prominent one is perhaps my earliest memory - running away from my grandma's house when I was about two because her dog freaked me out. I don't think I got far, though. Running away scared me at least as much as the dog.

As a child, I knew my neighborhood, of course, and I tended to stick to the same spots most of the time. During third and fourth grade, I walked to and from school by myself. On weekends, I'd walk to the stationery store to buy my comics, and that was about a half-hour to forty-five minutes, longer if I stopped off at McDonald's or White Castle to eat. These were all familiar locations, though. I like to think that my parents impressed in me the importance of not straying too far from the neighborhood.

These days, though, it's different. While I rarely, if ever, wandered off on my own, my parents still trusted me enough to go certain places by myself once I reached a certain age, whether I walked, took public transportation, or rode my bike. Now, it seems like a lot of parents go far out of their way to keep their children safe and protected - and not just little kids, and for more purposes than just playing by themselves. They got a term for it - "helicopter parenting" - and apparently it's a real problem. Still, there are people who actively advocate letting kids be kids and to not worry so much when they go off on their own.

Little Fugitive is a time capsule, capturing an earlier time in American history in which the freedom of kids to walk and play on the streets and in other public places was taken for granted. Watching it now, in 2014, it's hard to believe that a little kid could wander around Coney Island in the summertime by himself, and not get abducted or hurt or what have you. And while there is an element of urgency - his older brother wondering where he is, the horse trainer who looks out for him - it's not as amplified as you might expect. 

The movie chooses to emphasize little Joey's adventure, as opposed to the potential danger he may or may not be in, and it's clear that by the time his brother finds him, he does alright - more than alright, in fact. Traditionally, this has been the premise of many a children's book, especially those in which the protagonists travel to magical realms where they meet fascinating and unique people, have adventures, and rely on their wits to accomplish a goal and make it back home in one piece. Fugitive plays a lot like that, actually.

I've written before about Coney Island and what it means to me, and while I've seen Coney in other classic movies, I've never seen it in such detail as this. In particular I loved seeing the old parachute drop ride in action. It's been out of service for just about my entire lifetime - I certainly don't remember ever seeing it in use - and while it looks like fun, it also seems a bit tame compared to some of the newer, more modern rides. And my god, was the beach packed in this movie! I know I've never seen so many people there before.

Last Saturday's screening at the Loew's JC also included a guest appearance by Mary Engel, daughter of Fugitive co-writers/co-directors Morris Engel & Ruth Orkin (Ray Ashley is also credited as a co-director and co-writer), and she talked about the film and how she has kept it in the public eye all these years. Apparently it was a major influence on the French New Wave, and it's easy to see why: it was shot entirely on location, with a specially built, handheld, 35mm camera, and it feels very modern, very European in terms of cinematography and editing, quite unlike a typical Hollywood movie from the 50s.

Your Humble Narrator and Ms. Citizen Screen herself

Did I mention I had company? I've written before about my pal Aurora, whom I met for the first time at the Loew's JC after making her acquaintance through her blog. She was there too, fresh from her week in Hollywood for the TCM Film Festival, and we caught up on old times before watching the movie together, which we both adored. (It was the first half of a twin bill, but unfortunately, I couldn't stay for the second half.) When it comes to movies, she gets around: she had spent the previous night in Fort Lee, NJ at a screening of the old John Barrymore film Twentieth Century, as part of a special Barrymore tribute. I'm hoping I can get her to come into the city this summer for some outdoor movies.

UPDATE 4.30.14: Here's Aurora's account of the night, in which she also talks about the second movie, Harold Lloyd's Speedy.

Muppets Most Wanted

Muppets Most Wanted
seen @ Jamaica Multiplex Cinemas, Jamaica NY
3.27.14

The superb movie site The Dissolve wrote a piece recently about Muppets Most Wanted from the angle of how a movie like this can't help but recycle certain themes from past Muppet movies because these days, that's the safest way to guarantee that people will actually go see it:

...Is there an inherent limit to what talking, singing animal puppets can do in a movie? Or are studios simply too timid to push those limits? On the big screen, the Muppets have generally run through two basic plots: "Let's put on a show right here!" (The Muppet Movie, The Muppets Take Manhattan, The Muppets), and "Let's re-enact a beloved story that's safely in the public domain right here!" (The Muppet Christmas Carol, The Muppet Treasure Island, The Muppets' Wizard of Oz). Only Muppets From Space doesn't fit the mold, and it's an oddball in the series for numerous reasons, as it focuses on Gonzo instead of Kermit, and has no original songs. But that film aside, the Muppets operate in a small number of modes, and "Let's get involved in a caper of some sort right here!" has become the third thing the series can do. Or at least it's the only other option Disney seems willing to try.

I'm not about to dispute this claim. Indeed, MMW has lots of call-backs to earlier Muppet movies; some obvious, others less so. But you know what? I find that I'm okay with that. I still found it amusing, if not quite on the level of the earlier films, and if Disney's not willing to stray too far from the formula, I suspect that that'll be alright by me.

I don't want the Muppets to change too much. That's simply how I feel. The Muppets, as I explained last time, mean a great deal to me, from the time I first watched them on TV. Fair or not, appropriate or not, the image I have of them is the one from my childhood, when Jim Henson was still alive, and it's difficult to adjust. I find it strange seeing them do things like operate cellphones or computers, or interact with modern celebrities, or even sing modern songs! And now you expect me to entrust future Muppet movies with anyone other than the Henson family?

Well, I'm not completely dense. I realize that the Muppets can't stay exactly the same. But you know, so many other things from when I was a kid have changed - it'd be nice to have some things stay as close to the same as possible. I realize how this sounds, but I don't care: if Disney wants to recycle old plot points, I say let 'em!

Why? It's hard to explain. By way of comparison, let's look at another intellectual property from childhood: superheroes. As I get older, I start to think that forcing the superhero genre to "grow up" may have been the worst thing to happen to it, because 95% of the time, "growing up" has meant dumbass "very special episode" type stories that compromise the integrity of the characters and cheapen the real-world issues they're trying to address. (Here are a few examples.) And while the potential for a Muppet equivalent to Watchmen may exist, frankly, I don't need to see that. I just don't! (Also, before you shove Rule 34 at me, may I remind you that those who indulge in that sort of thing are far, far off the beaten path and are easily avoidable.)

And anyway, while MMW was derivative, it did have its moments: a Kermit doppleganger in a fight scene; some terrific songs; Tina Fey, whom I finally got to see in a movie for the first time (and I can see her appeal) and the usual guest cameos, some of which were even funny. To coin a phrase, MMW is what it is and I do not expect nor want too much deviation from the formula.

Though if Walter's gonna be a regular now, he desperately needs more in the way of personality.

Sounder

Sounder
seen on TV @ TCM
5.18.13

One of the earliest memories I have of my life is hanging out at my grandmother's house in Florida. I was probably around two or so. She had a dog - I don't recall what kind - and it was in all likelihood the first dog I remember encountering. I didn't take very well to it for whatever reason. Maybe it tried to lick my face; maybe it barked a little too loudly for me; maybe this big hairy creature just freaked me the hell out in general. Regardless, two-year-old me panicked and ran away. I doubt I ran far, though; my parents found me before too long...

...but the damage was done. I grew up with a perhaps-irrational, but nonetheless-real paranoia of dogs. If I saw one coming down the street, I'd cross to the other side. I could not get within arms length of one, regardless of size, and it reached the point where I wondered if I needed psychiatric help.

I didn't, though. It literally was as easy as deciding that I was tired of living this way, and making a conscious decision to not be afraid of them anymore. Wasn't easy, and it took some time, but I somehow built up the inner strength to be calm(er) around them. Living in New York, one sees people walking dogs all the damn time! It was either get over my fear or move to Montana or someplace like that - so it's not like I had a choice in the matter.

Funny thing is, many of my friends, both in and out of the five boroughs, are cat people. I imagine it's easier to keep cats as pets than dogs. For instance, Vija had two different cats for many years, and she's even cat-sit for other people. She was very fond of her cats, and since she lives in a great big loft, they always had plenty of room to roam. Andi has a cat now, but she's also a huge dog-lover like you wouldn't believe. I can't go anywhere with her without her stopping to ogle over someone's dog on the street. It's kind of endearing, actually.

Reid has a dog that I've actually become comfortable around. I've only been to his apartment two or three times, but every time I've been there, I've been amazed at how relaxed I get around his fluffy blond dog (please don't ask me what types of dogs and cats these are; I couldn't begin to tell you). He told me once that his dog was trained as some type of caretaker dog for his father, so that might explain it, but I see this sort of thing as progress. I couldn't have done it when I was sixteen.

Sometimes I regret not having a dog as a pet growing up. I think I could've done a halfway decent job with one: I lived in a very suburban part of Queens, in a two-family home very close to a park, with neighborhood friends. If I recall correctly, our landlord didn't allow pets, so it wouldn't have happened regardless, but I might've gotten over my phobia of dogs a lot sooner if I had learned how to be around one on a daily basis. I'll never know. (They don't allow pets where I live now, either.)

I'm not quite sure why Sounder is named for the dog in the story; he's not that pivotal to the plot. Nor does he do any Lassie-like feats of heroism, which I kinda expected when I watched this. Still, it's a very sweet movie, the kind that doesn't get played enough on TV anymore. Watch it with your kids if you have any.

Who Framed Roger Rabbit

The 31 Days of Oscar Blogathon is an event coinciding with Turner Classic Movies' "31 Days of Oscar" month-long celebration, in observance of the Academy Awards. In both events, the theme is the same: recognition of Oscar-nominated films throughout history. The blogathon is hosted by Once Upon a Screen, Outspoken & Freckled, and Paula's Cinema Club. See the links above for a list of participating blogs.

Who Framed Roger Rabbit
seen on TV @ TCM
2.22.13

I've seen Who Framed Roger Rabbit lots of times before, but in watching it the other night, I noticed something new, or at least, something jumped out at me that I had never considered before. This is a pro-public transportation movie - and not in a subtle way, either! The master plan of Christopher Lloyd's character, Judge Doom, is to tear down Toontown and build a freeway - in a time, the late 40s, long before freeways were depressingly common all over California - and Bob Hoskins' character Eddie thinks the idea is nuts. I think his exact words were, "Only a toon would come up with such a wacky idea" or something like that.

More importantly, however, Eddie is shown as someone who doesn't ALWAYS need a car to get around Los Angeles. In an early scene, we see him trying to get on a streetcar, but all he has is a check, so he sneaks to the back as the streetcar takes off and sit on the rear with some kids. One of them asks him why he doesn't have a car, and he says something like, "Who  needs one? We've got the greatest public transportation in the world!" Every time we see him in a car, it's either borrowed, or it's that toon car. Obviously he had a car at one point in his life, since he can drive, but when we see him in this movie, he's not dependent on it.

I think this is a wonderfully subversive aspect of the story, especially when you consider how the development of freeways eventually led to the further sprawl of LA, making people more reliant on cars and foreign oil, that have polluted the atmosphere and so on and so forth. One wonders how Eddie reacted when the freeways finally did come (if they came; in a world with living cartoon characters, anything's possible, I suppose).

Part of Judge Doom's plan involves buying the streetcar business, the Red Cars. They have quite a history, which you can read about here. In the movie you can see them mixed with cars and pedestrians on the streets with no problem at all; indeed, it seemed as if there was less car traffic in general.

This may not seem like such a big thing compared to the visual wizardry of the film, but to me it is, especially when you consider how public transportation and people who choose not to drive usually get treated in the media. I've never read the book on which Roger is based, so I don't know if this was as pronounced an element there, or whether the screenwriters were aware of it or not, but it's refreshing to see a movie that portrays public transportation in a positive light.

Roger won three Oscars, including Visual Effects, and perhaps it's appropriate to write about that now given the current problems facing the visual effects industry. On that, I'll simply say this: it seems to me that Hollywood created this problem for themselves when they chose to continually push spectacle-filled, yet empty-headed, blockbuster sci-fi/fantasy/horror films at the expense of character-based, real-world films, yet we the audience clearly demanded this stuff in copious amounts, so we don't get off easily either. Movies like Life of Pi, which won this year's Visual Effects Oscar, are the exception, not the rule, though - films that utilize the outstanding skills of companies like Rhythm & Hues in service to an equally outstanding story - and that, too, is as important a problem.

Let's get back to Roger, though. Director Robert Zemeckis and the animation team led by Richard Williams, who received a special Oscar for his work here (he's the genius behind The Thief and the Cobbler, and the story behind that film is a tragic one indeed), put together a one-of-a-kind film that still holds up well in this age of performance-capture effects. It's the light and shadows that sell the animated characters most. One needs them in order to believe that humans and toons inhabit the same space, and the illusion is carried off expertly.

Zemeckis, of course, continued to experiment with visual effects throughout his career, whether in sci-fi flicks like the Back to the Future trilogy, to performance-capture films like The Polar Express, and even straight drama, like the unforgettable plane crash scene that opens Flight. I think that his films have a greater sense of... humanism, for lack of a better word, than most of James Cameron's movies. I couldn't imagine Cameron making a movie like Forrest Gump, for instance. As great as he is, he tends to let the spectacle overshadow the characters, at least in his more recent stuff. Zemeckis tends to avoid that more than Cameron.

One more thing: if you love Roger, there's an awesome graphic novel you oughta check out called Three Fingers. It's a darker spin on the idea of toons and humans co-existing. Created in the style of a documentary film, it chronicles the history of a Mickey Mouse-like toon movie star, unique among other toons in that he was born with only three fingers (and an opposable thumb, of course). The implications of this difference, and what it means for toons everywhere, lies at the heart of this story. It's excellent.

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Previously:
I Am a Fugitive From a Chain Gang
Cabaret
Cabin in the Sky

The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe
seen on TV @ ABC Family
2.17.13

My sister had a wardrobe. Growing up, we had to share a room - and no, it wasn't anywhere near as much fun as it sounds - and she had this largish (I'd say about six and a half feet tall) aluminum wardrobe that sat in one corner of our room. It was nothing fancy, just a giant box. I think she may have stuck a few magnets on the front and sides for decoration. I suspect this was hers as opposed to ours because she had more stuff. In addition to her many clothes, I remember that she kept her 45s and her Harvey Comics in there too. (You remember Harvey Comics, right? Richie Rich, Lotta, Hot Stuff, Little Audrey, etc.) I don't remember keeping any of my clothes in there, although I suppose I might have.

Now you have to understand - as my older sister, Lynne got to do stuff that I was too young for, and that engendered a certain amount of envy in me. I wanted to know what being a teenager was like. Gender wasn't really a factor; if I had had an older brother, I probably would've felt the same way, although I'll never know for sure. I never gave much thought as to whether or not her things were too "girly" for me. There was the ever-present threat of physical abuse, of course, but that's probably to be expected between siblings. 

My point is that I was plain nosy. So I'd rummage through her wardrobe when she wasn't around, examining her clothes, reading her comic books, playing her 45s, hoping for some insight into the mind of this sibling I was stuck living with, one I didn't ask for and couldn't relate to. Now, of course, our relationship is nowhere near so antagonistic, but back then, we were both crazy kids who didn't know any better and drove our parents nuts.

I'm fairly certain that I first read The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe at a relatively early age. (I also read some, but not all of the subsequent books in the series. The Voyage of the Dawn Treader was my favorite. Eventually I read all of them as an adult.) I was quick to learn how to read, and I vividly remember spending a number of afternoons at the local library. So of course, like many little kids who read this at an impressionable age, I had to see if I could access Narnia through my sister's wardrobe. 

Now part of the problem with that, as I recall - besides the wardrobe being too small - was that I believed that I couldn't do it unless I shut the doors behind me, which was difficult to do from the inside. The way the wardrobe doors were made, it was difficult to get a firm grip on them and get them to close properly. Plus, Lynne had so much stuff lying around on the bottom that I couldn't stand in one place without crushing or kicking over something. And it goes without saying that I couldn't ruin something of hers without incurring her wrath.

Didn't stop me from trying, though.

I think I sympathized with Edmund, even though he betrays the Pevensie clan. I certainly knew what it was like to have an older sibling who didn't always grok you, and wanting to be taken seriously even though you're a kid. In the animated version, I found the scenes with Edmund and Queen Jadis frightening. Also, the lamppost intrigued me. Why was something so obviously part of the "real world" part of Narnia? Whenever I'd see a lamppost in a wooded park I'd always imagine that I was in Narnia. And of course, the death of Aslan was scary, especially the part when Lucy and Susan hear the Stone Table crack in two behind them.

Did I catch the Christian allegorical aspects of the book as a kid? Don't remember, but I doubt it. That's the kind of thing you don't get until you're older, though I might have at least caught on to the Aslan-as-Jesus metaphor, especially when he willingly sacrifices himself to save Edmund.

This book might have been one of the very first exposures I had to British culture. I certainly didn't understand, for example, what Turkish delight was, or why Santa Claus was called Father Christmas. I probably just thought it was part of the alternate-world aspect of the story.

I saw the film version of Lion when it first came out, naturally. To say it owes a tremendous debt to Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings trilogy is an understatement, though some of the special effects don't seem quite as impressive now, on the small screen. Aslan looks too obviously like a CGI creation, though one could argue that as a supernatural, larger-than-life entity, perhaps he shouldn't look too much like a real-world lion.

I did a little bit of following along in the book as I watched the film (I have the omnibus edition that collects all seven books), and as a result I was more aware of how much the film expands on the book. I liked the way Aslan's resurrection was explained; much simpler than the "Deeper Magic" thing in the book, which even as a kid, I found to be a little hokey. In the film, they keep the Deep Magic thing, but the explanation basically amounts to Jadis not reading the fine print on the Stone Table.

The film version wasn't bad; I mean, it's next to impossible to mess up a story like this in terms of adaptation. I never saw Prince Caspian or Dawn Treader. I guess I felt like I got all I needed from this movie.

In defense of A Christmas Story

...Many moments of the film seem quite superfluous to the central plot. Why the broken furnace? Why the bully? Why the Little Orphan Annie decoder pin? At a mere 94 minute [sic], all these extra scenes, that have not made quite the splash in pop culture, have come to feel like cheap padding. If it were just a story about being a kid, I'd understand but it's so specific to the holiday season, that these moments don't seem to really fit into the overall celebration of Christmas.

The first time I saw A Christmas Story was at a friend's house around the ol' Yuletide season. She couldn't believe I had never seen it before, so naturally I had to plunk down in front of the TV and watch it. I was pretty shocked to see that it was, in fact, running non-stop for 24 hours on TBS - I thought only The Yule Log got that treatment at Christmas time! Regardless, I liked the movie, though  I never gave it a hard look the way Rachel does in her post.

Don't get me wrong; I have no great attachment to the movie. I don't rush to the TV to watch it every Christmas Eve. My favorite holiday film has always been Miracle on 34th Street (THE ORIGINAL, thank you very much). Still, I think I can address the reason why this movie is as beloved as it is. Nostalgia is certainly a huge part of the equation, but I think it goes deeper than that.

A Christmas Story is what we used to call a "shaggy dog story" - the kind that has a tendency to ramble and go all over the place and is not in any great rush to get to the "point," such as it is. Such kinds of stories tend to be part of the oral tradition (A Christmas Story is narrated by Ralphie as an adult), so there's a much greater emphasis on storytelling rather than story. It should also be noted that director Bob Clark partly based this film on a volume of short stories. 

I admit, it never occurred to me that this approach might not appeal to everyone. I hesitate to suggest that it may be a generational thing, but I honestly find it next to impossible to imagine a movie quite like this enjoying the same level of success today. 

I would argue that A Christmas Story is very much about being a kid, and that Christmas is the vehicle for that theme. Kids may seem more sophisticated and savvy about the world around them today, but some things don't change, no matter what the era, and I believe the enduring popularity of this movie proves that.

Agree? Disagree?

Pi-in-the-sky links

Not much to say this week except that I'm not sure I'll be able to see as many new movies this season as I'd like to, for the simple reason that there's soooooooo much to see! There's a second-run theater not too far from me that I suspect I may employ in the coming weeks in an effort to play catch-up. Plus, TCM's Star of the Month next month is Barbara Stanwyck, and you know I'm gonna write a few posts for that. At this rate, I may not have a Top 10 list ready until next February...

Dorian serves up a twin bill of Bob Hope/Paulette Goddard movies.

I liked Chitty Chitty Bang Bang as a kid, but probably wouldn't watch it now. John's friend Jeff explains why, hilariously.

Pam talks about an old Italian WWII movie that, from the sound of it, makes Life is Beautiful look like Schindler's List. 

Andrew analyzes the Hollywood Reporter actress roundtable discussion.

From the UK, The Guardian writes about Silver Linings Playbook and Oscar's long, uncomfortable history with comedies.

A Dallas fan remembers the late Larry Hagman.