Thursday, March 31, 2011

The Third Time Doesn't Charm Much With Little Fockers

I got home from a long trip the other day, and yesterday a friend of mine called me up to welcome me back and see if I wanted to go to the movies. We have two major movie theaters here in town, one of which is a dollar theater. The nice thing about the dollar theater, of course, is that it’s cheap. The not-so-nice part is that there are a lot fewer movies to choose from, so you’re more likely to end up watching something you’d rather not pay full price for anyway. Last night’s movie was Little Fockers, the third installment in the Meet the Parents series starring Ben Stiller and Robert DeNiro.

It took me until last year to finally see Meet the Parents, and I never did see the sequel, Meet the Fockers. I didn’t really need to, though; this movie filled in the gaps sufficiently, which mainly involve Greg’s (Stiller) touchy-feely parents, stay-at-home dad Bernie (Dustin Hoffman) and television sex therapist Roz (Barbra Streisand). Greg is a nurse and a devoted family man. He’s a very decent guy, which begins to really hit home for his intimidating father-in-law, Jack Byrnes (DeNiro), after his other son-in-law cheats on his wife and takes off. A mild heart attack leaves this towering giant of a patriarch shaken and determined to see Greg carry on as family protector if anything should happen to him.

As in the first movie, Stiller and DeNiro have a great dynamic. Both of them are likable, but it’s easy to see how they drive each other crazy. While the first movie is very heavy on the slapstick and requires Greg to do several incredibly stupid things, in this movie, the disasters that happen really aren’t his fault. Some cringe-worthy moments do occur, but I felt like I was able to root for him more in this movie since he really is in the right most of the time, and he’s trying very hard to do well by his wife, his children and his in-laws. Meanwhile, Jack’s behavior in this movie is pretty reasonable as well. He’s looking out for his family too, and his limited point of view, along with a generally suspicious outlook, causes him to come to unfortunate but understandable conclusions. The wives, Dina Byrnes and Pam Focker (Blythe Danner and Teri Polo), have minimal roles, just playing it straight and supportive as their husbands lose their heads.

The plot of the movie is driven by miscommunication and one extremely over-the-top new character. The in-laws have come to town for the fifth birthday party of the Focker twins, precocious Samantha (Daisy Tahan) and dopey Henry (Colin Baiocchi). It’s not for a few days, though, so that’s plenty of time for trouble to develop. Most of that trouble involves Greg’s involvement with a perky drug rep named Andi Garcia (Jessica Alba). For some reason, she is really eager for him to be one to give a speech about her company’s new drug at an upcoming convention. And he could use the money, especially since he is in the process of trying to get his kids into an exclusive private school. But he doesn’t want Jack to know about the convention, since he wants him to think he is totally financially secure, and leaving the father-in-law out of the loop on this little detail leads to big problems later on. It doesn’t help, either, that Pam’s ex, guileless golden boy Kevin (Owen Wilson), returns to town just before the party after Greg’s advice about how to propose to his supermodel girlfriend backfires on him.

Basically, I like the main characters in the movie, except for Andi, who seems to ooze phoniness and spends the entire movie flinging herself relentlessly at a married man. I’m really not sure why. I kept looking for some sinister motivation, but it seems the only explanation for her behavior is that she has a mad crush on Greg and won’t let anything stand in the way of her having her way with him. While Greg thinks she’s a knockout, it’s a mark of his character that he is never tempted to give in to her advances. But that can’t stop her from putting him in a couple of very compromising positions. I found myself cringing most of the time when she was on screen, and her totally unprofessional behavior made me wonder how she managed to hang onto her job.

Aside from her, what really annoyed me about the movie was the gross-out humor. There’s the tedious tittering over Greg’s full name, with his birth name of Gaylord coming up several times at awkward moments, particularly with Prudence (Laura Dern), the spacey director of the school he wants his children to attend. There’s the fact that the drug he’s supposed to be hawking is basically Viagara for heart patients, so you can imagine the eye-rolling jokes there, especially the piercingly uncomfortable moment highlighted in the previews in which Greg must administer a shot to counteract the drug’s effects after Jack takes some on the sly. And given the profession of Greg’s mother, almost everything she says has some sort of sexual connotation, and that gets old fast. Finally, along with all the lewd humor, there are disgusting moments like Henry barfing all over his father or Greg taking a chunk out of his hand while carving a turkey, which, if I’m remembering right, pretty much happened in the first movie and was unpleasant enough then.

The first two movies did really well at the box office, and at this point the third movie just feels like the cast and writers trying to stretch the series out beyond its natural end point. The movie concludes in such a way that it seems to be baiting us for yet another sequel, and at this point I can’t help thinking it’s a little excessive. DeNiro and Stiller do make a great team, and Little Fockers has its moments of humor and sweetness. But I think this is a franchise that has run its course.

Jan Brett Tackles a Traditional Classic in Goldilocks and the Three Bears

I have always loved stories about bears. One of the first of these tales to enchant me, and many other youngsters, was Goldilocks and the Three Bears. I’ve seen many different versions of this story, some straightforward, some with an unusual spin. Jan Brett, one of my favorite author-illustrators, came out with The Three Snow Bears a couple years back, and I found it a wonderful take on the classic story with an Inuit twist. But I hadn’t realized that she also tackled the tale in a more traditional form. If I were going to introduce a young child to the story now, I think Brett’s Goldilocks and the Three Bears might just be the version I would pick.

Brett retells the tale, but it’s such a simple story with such familiar contours that as I read it for the first time, it felt like the story I’d my parents read to me when I was a toddler. A note on the copyright page indicates that the book was adapted from The Green Fairy Book, edited by Andrew Lang. I wonder if I ever ran across that version… At any rate, it seems Brett didn’t have to change much. She worded things in her own way, and there’s a certain elegance to the sentences, but it’s also basic and repetitive enough that young children will be able to recite along with the bears’ exclamations before long.

The book features only four characters, at least in terms of having anything to do with the story at hand. Goldilocks is a little girl with long golden braids who stumbles upon the cottage of the three bears while they are away from home, out enjoying a morning walk. Brett does not actually give the bears names, merely descriptions. So instead of Papa, Mama and Baby Bear, we have “a little, small, wee bear,” “a middle-sized bear” and “a great, huge bear.” Every time she mentions the bears, she uses this precise terminology.

Goldilocks and the bears alike wear clothing that shows a Scandinavian influence. The book never indicates what country we are supposed to be in; my guess would be Norway, but I’m not certain. I love the vibrant colors and the intricate patterns, and I especially love the bears’ cozy home, which is entwined with trees and rather resembles the abode of an Ewok, the teddy bear-like indigenous Endor residents from Return of the Jedi. It’s completely charming.

One thing I appreciate about this version is that it allows me to sympathize with Goldilocks more than usual. I mean, she really is a pretty presumptuous girl, but Brett presents her in such a way that she merely seems endearingly curious, not to mention exhausted and hungry after her disorienting trek through the woods. Nobody ever seems to give Snow White a hard time for making herself at home in the house of the seven dwarfs, but I tend to see Goldilocks as more of a mischief-maker than a girl in distress. Here, it’s easier to see her in a positive light, making me wonder whether she would actually flee the bears at the end of this story or if they would take pity on her and befriend her.

One of the most distinctive attributes of Brett’s books is her use of borders. In this book, it’s not as pronounced as in some, but on several pages, the narrow strips on either side of a two-page spread offer a window into what is happening elsewhere in the tale. If the main painting shows the bears at home preparing porridge, we see Goldilocks on her way in the border. If she is the primary focus of the two-page spread, we see the bears on the sides, wandering through the woods. Additionally, these borders give us a glimpse of a family of mice, or at least a representation of them. It looks as though they are carved in wood, and the design is quite lovely.

I can always count on Jan Brett to come up with appealing takes on folktales, some of which are familiar to me, some of which aren’t. Few tales have been with me as long as Goldilocks and the Three Bears has, and it’s wonderful to see it in such great hands.

Embrace Your Inner Took By Braving the Twilight Zone Tower of Terror

When I went to Florida recently with my aunt, uncle and cousin, one of the rides my aunt was most anxious to get me on was the Twilight Zone Tower of Terror at Disney’s Hollywood Studios. We hit this park toward the end of our trip, and a couple of its big attractions were closed. As we entered the park, she expressed disappointment that it looked as though the Tower of Terror was one of the rides not in operation at that time. I confess I felt slightly relieved at the thought that I might not have to brave the Tower of Terror after all. I’ve been trying to embrace my inner Took lately, but the same old Baggins keeps bubbling up to the surface. In other words, I have a pretty wimpy disposition. I wasn’t sure if I could handle this infamous ride.

But it wasn’t closed after all, and since this is the most lauded ride in the park, I knew I had to give it a try. As we were getting in line, a woman came up to us and randomly handed us a trio of Fast Passes for the 200-foot-tall Tower of Terror, so we only spent about five or ten minutes in line, just enough time to catch a glimpse of some of the fancy props adorning the waiting area in this most unusual hotel. “It’s better that we don’t really have to wait,” Aunt Barb told me. “There’s less time to get nervous.”

She said that when she had ridden it before, the ride employees, all bedecked in snazzy bellhop uniforms, had gone out of their way to creep passengers out as much as possible beforehand. Our bellhops really didn’t have much to say, but Aunt Barb did a sufficient job of letting me know just how creepy the ride was. Plus there was the ever-present distant sound of screaming… Preceding the ride is a video in which Rod Serling introduces the curious circumstances of this hotel, which sets the stage well. As we approached the elevator where we would be getting our ominous tour of the hotel, we saw several families with young children. One parent exited the ride with her kids before getting on; another tried to convince them that it wouldn’t be so bad. It does strike me as a ride that’s best for older riders, though the personality of the child makes a difference.

The ride itself has a fairly small capacity, with several rows of seating and room for a few people on each bench. I sat between my aunt and cousin in the front row, and after buckling up and listening to a bit of ominous narration, my aunt and I clutched each other’s hands and held on for dear life. I can remember going to Cedar Point with my family and watching my dad and brother go on the drop tower ride at Cedar Point, which looked pretty terrifying to me. You can’t really see what’s going on inside of the Tower of Terror from the outside, so I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. But with a name like Tower of Terror, I figured it had to be pretty scary.

The ride is very well done, definitely capturing the feel of a Twilight Zone episode as it slowly raises you and then drops you, giving you glimpses of the ghostly family said to be residing within the hotel before plunging you into darkness again. It’s quite disorienting, especially when you suddenly find yourself staring out at the park with bright sunshine streaming in after all the blackness of that elevator shaft and try to figure out how high up you are. There are several quick drops on the ride, and the first one startled me a fair bit, but by the time we got to the major one, I felt kind of used to it, and it barely freaked me out at all.

I’ve never really been on a ride like this one before, and my conclusion was that, for me at least, it sounded a lot scarier than it was. Not to say that it was disappointing; I was quite fine with not having a heart attack while I was on board. And when I’m nervous, I tend to be even more quiet than usual, which is something of a feat for me, but my aunt screamed enough for the both of us. We didn’t buy the photo they snapped of us on the way down, but it’s fun to sneak a peek at those on the way out. You see some pretty interesting expressions. The shop you enter after the ride ends also offers an array of other Tower of Terror souvenirs from t-shirts to pressed quarters, and the ride is clearly visible from several points in the park, so it’s easy to get a picture of it from a distance.

While I would never really call myself a thrill ride enthusiast, I seem to be finding that anxiety before the fact usually exceeds fear during the ride itself. Tower of Terror certainly delivers a thrill, but it’s not as chilling as I expected, and that’s okay by me. If I ever make it back, I’ll gladly ascend the elevator again.

Don't Let Skipper Dan Get You Down; Jungle Cruise Is Terrific!

A couple years ago, Weird Al Yankovic released a song entitled Skipper Dan about a disenchanted actor who believed he was on the path to theatrical greatness but took a wrong turn somewhere and wound up stuck as the skipper of a jungle cruise amusement park attraction. “I’m laughin’ at my own jokes, but I’m crying inside, ‘cause I’m workin’ on the jungle cruise ride,” he moans. It’s my favorite song on Al’s Internet Leaks EP, an endearingly melancholy little number, and the fact that this guy is an actor just makes his melodrama a little more understandable. He probably has an inflated sense of his talent, and in any case, he’s exaggerating his misfortune. I’m sure there are plenty of people who would love to be in his shoes. But I get it. He hasn’t won a plum role on Broadway, I haven’t written a hit song or the Great American Novel. I can relate.

I thought about Skipper Dan when I went to Walt Disney World’s Magic Kingdom on my recent trip to Florida because the first ride I went on in the park was the Jungle Cruise. It was also the last ride I went on. We had two very different guides each time we rode, and our first one seemed very much like a female version of Skipper Dan. I couldn’t tell if it was an act and she was going for deadpan humor, or if she hadn’t quite woken up yet, or if she was a sad shell of an aspiring starlet who felt she’d been condemned to a purgatory of cheesy puns on endless repeat. As much as everyone wants to visit Disney World, I would think that working there would be an absolute dream for most people. But maybe not… “Stay in school, kids,” both guides warned us as the ride wrapped up. How inspiring.

While I really couldn’t tell if our first guide was enjoying herself or not, our second skipper, an older guy who at first glance seemed a little crotchety, really seemed to be getting a kick out of his shtick once we got going. That made the second time around even more fun than the first even though we saw most of the jokes coming this time – or maybe partly because of it. Our first guide played it very detached, almost as though she were a recording, while the second was more interactive, and it made for a livelier experience. Both times, we scarcely had to wait to get on a boat, though I got the impression that lines were much longer around midday.

The Jungle Cruise is a very relaxing, enjoyable ride that’s just right to ease you into or out of a long day of ride-hopping. It has a retro feel to it, with all sorts of charming animatronics, most of which have a humorous edge to them. You’ve got elephants spraying water out of their trunks, a rhino getting uncomfortably close to an explorer’s posterior, a band of gorillas trashing a base camp… There’s not much danger of mistaking these creations for flesh-and-blood safari creatures, but the likenesses are still strong, and it’s fun to imagine that one of them might venture toward the boat at any moment. Additionally, because the boat moves so slowly, it’s easy to snap pictures while you’re out on the water, so go ahead and get your camera out.

When I was in high school, I volunteered at the Erie Zoo every October during ZooBoo, the nighttime Halloween event. My favorite of the many volunteer jobs was serving as the narrator for the train ride, which took visitors through the creepily decorated Safariland, which had a different theme each year. The one consistent thing about the spiel was that it was extremely corny, and after almost every ride, somebody would holler to me as he got off the train, “Hey, you could use a new script!” But I loved it, and I never got tired of making those punny wisecracks. Hence, riding the Jungle Cruise had a pleasantly familiar feel to it. Almost like coming home.

So Skipper Dan might not appreciate his job much, but it sure doesn’t seem like a bad gig to me. This leisurely trip through the jungle is one of the most sedate, family-friendly rides at Disney World, and as long as you approach it with the right attitude, it’s a tour to tickle the funny bones of young and old alike.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Take the Plunge Off Ripsaw Falls With Dudley Do-Right at Universal Islands of Adventure

On March 14, I set off from Maryland with my Aunt Barb, Uncle Chuck and cousin Casey on a 14-hour drive that landed us in Orlando, Florida. One of the major stops on our itinerary was Universal Studios, particularly because the Wizarding World of Harry Potter had just opened there the year before, and it’s no secret what a fan I am of that series. In fact, when Casey joined my family for a trip to Ocean City, Maryland 11 years ago, I risked carsickness and spent every spare moment in the car reading my brand-new copy of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. I may be a Muggle, but I was eager to get a peek at the lifestyles of the magical and famous.

What I realized when we arrived for our first day at Universal was just how huge the place is. It’s divided into two parks, and each one is expansive. We worked our way toward Harry Potter, but oodles of fun awaited us first in other areas of Universal’s Islands of Adventure. Once we’d spent some time snapping pictures with the Marvel and classic cartoon displays in the two sections nearest the entrance, Aunt Barb made a beeline for Dudley Do-Right’s Ripsaw Falls, so that served as my introduction to the rides at Universal, and it was a good one.

The ride towers above much of Universal’s classic cartoon section. The name of the ride stands out at the top of an entryway, with a large circular saw blade neatly slicing the words “RIPSAW FALLS” in half. Other striking landmarks include the tower with a red Mountie hat on top and the sculpture of villainous Snidely Whiplash and pretty young Nell Fenwick carved into the side of the mountain. At the entryway, a wooden cut-out of Dudley helps riders determine whether they are tall enough to ride. The line then divides into regular riders and those with Fast Passes.

We didn’t have Fast Passes, so we went to the right, where a long line awaited us. This was St. Patrick’s Day, as well as Spring Break week for many students, so the park was packed. It took us well over an hour, and probably closer to two, to finally get on the ride. I didn’t mind too much, though, since there was so much within the line itself to keep us entertained. Various cut-outs scattered throughout the line made me chuckle, and several short videos played on the TV screens mounted on the walls. If you went into the ride unfamiliar with Dudley Do-Right, you certainly should have had a good idea of what this cheerfully dopey Canadian officer was all about by the time you got on.

Adding to the fun were the periodic announcements over the loudspeaker from other members of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. All of the ride employees wore snappy red uniforms that matched Dudley’s, which made the experience that much more immersive. After we realized how incredible crowded the park was that day, my aunt decided that we should get Fast Passes, which cost nearly as much as the price of park admission but cut your wait time down hugely, especially on such a busy day. We liked Ripsaw Falls so much that after we bought the Fast Pass, we went back and rode it again. The Fast Pass will only get you on each ride once, and a few of the rides don’t have Fast Pass lanes, but our experience tells me that if you buy a Fast Pass right off the bat, you should be able to get on every ride in Islands of Adventure if you put a full day in. The second time we rode Ripsaw Falls, we waited for fewer than ten minutes.

Ripsaw Falls is a pretty typical log flume ride, which takes you up big hills, around twisty bends and down sharp slopes, at the bottom of which you are pretty much guaranteed to get a soaking. Leave bags and other loose items with a non-rider if that’s an option, but your stuff will probably be all right in any case. I took my purse/camera bag on with me all three times, and my camera was inside and didn’t get wet. I definitely would recommend keeping cameras in some kind of bag, though, and holding them at such an angle as to minimize water exposure.

It’s not the wettest ride at Universal – that would be Popeye and Bluto’s Bilge-Rat Barges – but Ripsaw Falls is a close second. The ride proceeds like an episode of the series, which originated as a regular segment on The Rocky and Bullwinkle Show. Every once in a while the over-the-top narrator blasts some description out of the loudspeaker, and once in a while one of the major characters, integrated as statues all along the route, speaks as well.

There’s Dudley to the rescue, bumbling things every step of the way, shrieking Nell and slickly vile Snidely. At one point, we also get to see a struggling Inspector Fenwick expressing his spluttering displeasure at his situation. The ride ends with a splash and a curious combination of exultation and defeat as you ride in under a wide banner announcing “Big Award Ceremony Today!!” and hear the narrator conclude that “A Mountie always gets his man – but not necessarily his girl!” Because no matter how many times poor Dudley may inadvertently save the day, Nell is just not that into him.

This ride is pretty close to the entrance of Islands of Adventure, and with good reason. You probably want to ride it earlier rather than later. Granted, I probably wouldn’t get on it at 9 in the morning, but I would recommend getting it in by 3 or 4. I think it was nearing 1 the first time we rode it, and closing in on 2 the second time, and we had no trouble at all drying off in the sun. By the time we got to Harry Potter, we were good and ready for those frosty butterbeers.

The second day we went, we hit the other side of the park and only came back to Islands of Adventure to catch a couple of the best rides as we wound down. I think it was close to 5 when we rode it that day, and by the time the sun had gone down and we were having dinner at CityWalk, the avenue of shops and restaurants just outside the main park area, Aunt Barb and I were shivering and wishing we’d paid the five bucks to go through one of the super-strength people dryers located near the water rides.

Aside from the wet factor later in the day, the only downside to the ride is that you have to get in the logs with your legs flat out in front of you, and it’s pretty awkward to get in, especially since they really rush the process. My aunt and I both struggled to arrange our legs properly as we sat down, and Casey had to give us a hand getting up.

Still, the fact that this was the only ride at Universal that we went on three times tells you that it’s a pretty fantastic ride. It’s fun, with the theme perfectly carried out throughout the line and the ride alike. It’s a bit of a thrill, not least when you emerge from the long wait in darkness and emerge half-blinded into the bright sunshine. And on a hot day, it sure is refreshing. Like most of the rides at Universal, this one snaps your picture, so you can savor the experience even more with a photo as you zoom screaming down the hill. Come to think of it, I’m a little surprised none of us went for that, as many times as we rode it. But I don’t need a picture to remember this ride by; Dudley Do-Right’s Ripsaw Falls stands out clearly as one of the best rides at Universal.

Manny and Sid Become Family Men in Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs

It seems like I’ve seen a lot of dinosaurs in the past couple of weeks. While I was in Florida with my aunt, uncle and cousin, I spent two days at Universal, and both days we rode the Jurassic Park river ride, which is half sedate boat tour, half panicky log flume, with animatronic dinosaurs in every direction. At Lion Country Safari, we wandered through a wooded path and posed with giant sculptures of dinos, and at Animal Kingdom, we spent a fair bit of time meandering through the dino village and embarking on the Dinosaur ride there. It was fairly fitting, then, to return to my aunt and uncle’s after our long drive up from Florida and turn on the TV to find Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs just starting.

I’m not sure what it is about the Ice Age movies, but I’ve seen all three of them now, and basically enjoyed them, but I always seem to watch them when other things are going on, so I’m not able to give my full attention to the movie. Hence, the details of this third movie in the Ice Age series are just a bit fuzzy to me as I think back on watching it a couple days ago as we wound down from our trip. However, I did enjoy the movie overall, even if it didn’t suck me in completely as Pixar always does.

Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs finds the main characters from previous movies each in a different place in life. Sensitive mammoth Manny (Ray Romano) is about to become a father, and while his even-keeled mate Ellie (Queen Latifah) is handling her pregnancy with quiet dignity, Manny is so excited that he’s beside himself. He’s channeled most of his nervous energy into providing a perfect playground for the impending arrival, but he still has enough left over to pester Ellie with endless questions as he worries over whether everything will go smoothly.

Surly saber-toothed tiger Diego (Denis Leary) finds all this lovey-dovey family stuff pretty off-putting, and it’s enough to make him want to set off on his own and return to a life of solitude. Meanwhile, eccentric sloth Sid (John Leguizamo) craves a sense of belonging, of truly being needed. He hasn’t been able to find a mate, and Manny’s domestic bliss leaves him feeling a little left out, so when he stumbles upon a clutch of Tyrannosaurus Rex eggs, he can’t resist bringing them home to raise them himself. Of course, this is a dangerous idea, and though he begins to care for them once they hatch, trouble really heats up once their biological mother returns for them.

Soon another great quest is underway as he tags along after the babies he’s come to think of as his own, ignoring the threat their mother poses, and Manny and Ellie trail after him, hoping to extract him. Parenthood is foremost on the minds of both Sid and Manny here, and it’s sweet to see the ways in which they prepare for and embrace that role. Their storylines mostly unfold separately, while Scrat the comic relief prehistoric squirrel dashes through every once in a while in pursuit of that ever-elusive nut as well as a particularly attractive female squirrel. His antics always steal the show in these movies, and that’s the case here as well, which is nice because the overall tone of the film is a bit on the serious side.

The animation in the movie is pretty nice overall. The landscape is on the bleak side, but it has its own sort of beauty. Of the animals, I think the mammoths come off looking the best. Sid isn’t particularly pleasant to look at, while Scrat is fairly cute but also deranged-looking. Diego has a solemnly handsome look about him, while piratey weasel Buck (Simon Pegg), who comes along to serve as a guide to the mammoths, just looks goofy.

Although I wasn’t drawn into this movie as completely as I might have been, I did enjoy seeing the characters again, and I thought the depiction of Manny and Sid trying to figure out how to be father was quite touching, even if the Sid angle reminded me a little too much of the first sequel to The Land Before Time. I hear that a fourth installment is on its way next year, and something tells me I’ll probably give that a try too.

Go Along on Shrek and Fiona's Harrowing Honeymoon with Shrek 4-D

When I went to Florida recently with my aunt, uncle and cousin, we split our trip to Universal Studios into two days. We tackled Islands of Adventure on March 17 and spent March 21 at Universal Studios Florida. We did make it into Islands of Adventure again toward the end of our second day, and the crowd was noticeably thinner than it had been the first time around. However, I would say that generally speaking, Islands of Adventure was the more crowded of the two parks. After our experience the first day, my aunt got Fast Passes as soon as we got into the park, and we had no trouble whatsoever getting in on everything we wanted to ride in this park. In fact, by the end of the day, she said that she suspected we wouldn’t have really needed them. Overall, Universal Studios Florida had a much more relaxed feel to it.

The fun started with Shrek 4-D, one of several rides I rode on vacation that was more show than ride. We went through the Fast Pass line quickly, with just enough time to stop and get a good look at various displays like the Duloc bulletin board, upon which are plastered notices for upcoming events, personal ads and all sorts of other goodies. Phony movie posters scattered throughout the line were fun, too; I especially liked the looks of Donkey-Xote: A Feel Good Comedy of the Dark Ages. From outside the ride line, you can see several enormous stills from the movie, as well as a couple of large three-dimensional displays, and nearby you can get your picture taken with Shrek and Donkey. If you’re a big fan of the movies, you’ll probably also want to check out Shrek’s Ye Olde Souvenir Shoppe after the ride ends.

As we got closer to the inner ride area, we saw a television screen upon which Shrek was playing. We happened to catch it right at the end of the movie, so we got to see Fiona’s marriage scene before moving on to the area where we got our real introduction to the ride. Inside, a combination of animatronic characters and images on screens got us up to speed with the fact that several of Shrek’s friends had been captured and were being tortured and that even though the thoroughly unpleasant Lord Farquaad had been eaten by a dragon, his ghost was determined to thwart Shrek and Fiona’s happiness.

We were standing for this portion of the ride, clustered together with everyone trying to get a good view. I didn’t have any trouble seeing what was going on, though at times I didn’t quite catch everything that was being said. It generally wasn’t a problem, though, and I enjoyed the banter of the ride employees as well as the exposition of the Magic Mirror, particularly the tip of the hat to Star Wars.

The main attraction was in the theater, on the way into which we picked up our pairs of glasses. The ride employees want to make sure that as many people can get on as possible, so they try to keep this process orderly, seeing to it that everyone moves all the way down his or her row so that no seats remain empty. The seating process didn’t end up taking very long, and soon we were all comfortably resting with the glasses on our heads, ready for the show to begin.

What Shrek 4-D really is, more than anything else, is an animated short that serves as an epilogue to Shrek. Fiona and Shrek have embarked upon their honeymoon, and Donkey is by their side whether they want him there or not. This attraction doesn’t take the sequels into account; it was first unveiled in 2003, before Shrek 2 came along. So don’t expect to see Puss in Boots anywhere, but his presence wouldn’t make sense anyway given the timeline of the film. You do get to see plenty of Donkey, who is my favorite character in the movies, and of Shrek and Fiona too. Plenty of familiar voices reprise their roles, most notably Mike Myers as Shrek, Eddie Murphy as Donkey and John Lithgow as Farquaad. The animation is high-quality, and the story and jokes are well written. I think we may have laughed more on this ride than any other ride at Universal Studios Florida.

This is definitely a kid-friendly attraction, with lots of silly gags and nothing too off-color in the humor. The 4-D element comes into play now and then, but it’s not overwhelming. It’s fun when a character seems to pop out of the screen or the audience gets sprayed with a light mist when Shrek and Donkey get wet, but there’s nothing too intense here. The seats move a bit, with rickety motion during some of the big action sequences, but it’s just a slight jostle and nothing to cause any concern to those who suffer from motion sickness, as I often do. It’s just a fun, laid-back ride and a great little story that made for a great start to our day. If you’re bonkers for ogres, you certainly won’t want to miss it.

Disenchanted Suburbanites Get More Excitement Than They Bargained For in Date Night

I generally get a kick out of Steve Carell’s characters, and I often find Tina Fey funny, so I was interested to see that they had co-starred in a comedy-adventure. I don’t ever recall seeing a preview for 2010’s Date Night, written by Josh Klausner and directed by Shawn Levy, so when my cousin and I stumbled upon it recently, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but she reported that she’d seen it and found it funny. While I didn’t end up liking it as much as most of Carell’s comedies, it was a fairly fun romp.

Phil (Carell) and Claire Foster (Fey) are a busy couple living in the suburbs of New York City. They both keep pretty busy with their jobs, and Claire spends a lot of time running the household as well. Alone time with each other is rare, and when they do go out to dinner, their favorite pastime is poking fun at nearby couples by imagining ludicrous conversations for them. But when friends of theirs decide to separate, Phil and Claire decide to put some spice back into their marriage by having a real date night. What starts out as a romantic evening escalates into a series of disasters as they get caught up in a world of thugs and theft.

Fey and Carell both have serious comedic chops, and they’re on display here much of the time, though the dialogue is rather hit-and-miss. Too often the movie substitutes “crude” for “funny,” with the result that this tale of rekindling romance in middle age often feels like it was written by junior high schoolers. On the other hand, there are genuinely funny moments, and Carell and Fey make a nice couple. They feel believable together, and their squabbles throughout the film seem a natural outgrowth of two people who are used to each other but now have more of a tendency to see each other’s irritating habits than their endearing qualities. As absurd as some of their adventures throughout the night are, it’s sweet to see them rediscover what attracted them to one another in the first place.

The movie has slapstick aplenty, particularly in the form of elaborate car wrecks. One sequence in which the Fosters’ car becomes entangled with a hapless cabbie is especially memorable. While Fey and Carell anchor the movie, various supporting players also add to the humor, or sometimes to the groans. I didn’t find much to like about William Fichtner as D. A. Frank Crenshaw, who spends most of his time on screen lusting creepily after various exotic dancers, particularly the under-cover Fosters. I found Ray Liotta’s performance as a mob boss rather corny but fun, and James Franco and Mila Kunis provide some of the movie’s biggest laughs as a pair of petty thieves who get mixed up with the Fosters and unwittingly help them rekindle their passion. As suave millionaire Holbrooke Grant, Mark Wahlberg doesn’t have to do much beyond standing around looking like a shirtless Ken doll, but his brief moments of interaction with the Fosters drive much of the movie’s action.

Date Night isn’t a movie I would watch more than once, but it made for decent late-night viewing for my cousin and me. Carell and Fey both have better movies to offer, but this wacky comedy isn’t a bad way to kill a couple hours.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

The Box Presents a Muddled But Intriguing Social Experiment

I avoid horror movies as a general rule. However, I was killing time with my cousin during a visit to my grandparents’, and the 2009 Richard Kelly thriller The Box came on after Date Night, the comedy we’d been watching, so we decided to stick it out even though my uncle warned us it was “freaky”. I figured with a PG-13 rating, it couldn’t be too traumatizing. And really, it wasn’t, though I still was a little nervous about going to sleep that night for fear a nightmare might creep in…

Cameron Diaz is Norma Lewis, a sweet, pretty Southern schoolteacher with a mangled foot. She and her husband Arthur (James Marsden), who works for NASA, enjoy a comfortable, if rather fiscally shaky, life with their pre-teen son Walter (Sam Oz Stone). Christmas is on the horizon when a mysterious package arrives on the porch. Inside the plain brown box is a contraption and a calling card. The Lewises are about to receive a visit from the enigmatic Arlington Steward (Frank Langella), a polite but ominous man with a deformed face. His task is to inform them of the “financial opportunity” presented by the box that they have been given. If they press the button, someone they don’t know will die, and they will receive a million dollars. They can’t tell anyone else about the offer or the deal is off. They have a day to decide.

Norma and Arthur are decent, salt-of-the-earth people, and it’s a little hard to believe that they would seriously consider this long-distance homicide. But a combination of disbelief that it will actually work and a sudden downturn in their fortunes making the money seem particularly palatable pushes them to accept the deal. And then the trouble really begins.

This is a mostly psychological thriller that asks its audience to consider whether they would accept such an offer and what the ramifications might be of a society filled with people who would do such a thing. It’s not an especially violent movie; we hear rumblings of a string of homicides but don’t really see much. It reminded me a bit of Stephen King’s Needful Things, only here, the temptation is far less personalized, and most of the terrible things that happen are a result of people being forced to make a difficult decision. It’s a sick experiment, and whoever is pulling the strings has incredible power.

Langella gives the most compelling performance as the serene but incredibly creepy courier. Is he behind all of this, or is he too caught up in something bigger than himself? While he is the one continually setting events into motion, it is difficult to determine whether he is truly a villain. Diaz and Marsden also deliver solid performances and are very believable as a couple. The Lewises are flawed but likable, and it’s disturbing to watch them descend into near-madness in the aftermath of their fateful decision.

Aside from the main three, I was most interested in Arthur’s colleague Norm Cahill (James Rebhorn) and the eerie family babysitter. I wasn’t too impressed with Stone’s performance, but he wasn’t really in the movie all that much. More than the side characters, the pop culture references caught my attention. The movie includes several clips of shows from the 1970s, which roots us in a very particular time, and the search for alien life is a major thread throughout the film. In some ways, I was also reminded of The Day the Earth Stood Still, as I got the impression that some sort of advanced civilization was observing humanity and unsure of whether it deserved to remain in existence.

The movie does get pretty weird toward the end, and there are at least a couple of sequences that seem confusing and out of place. At times it seemed to me as though it was trying to be two different movies. Ultimately, though, it’s an interesting rumination on human nature. The particulars of the experiment don’t always make a lot of sense, but the general idea behind it is compelling. It’s a make-you-think kind of movie, and if nothing else, I expect that those who watch it may think twice the next time they are tempted to do something that would benefit themselves and hurt someone else.

Monday, March 28, 2011

High School Nemeses Reunite in You Again

When I was in high school, I was pretty easily identifiable as a nerd. Happily, however, I never had a nemesis striving to make my school days miserable. This can’t be said of Marni (Kristen Bell), the main character in the 2010 comedy You Again, written by Moe Jelline and directed by Andy Fickman. She most definitely had a tormenter, and she is horrified to learn, after a few years away from home making it big at a PR firm, that her beloved older brother Will (James Wolk) is about to marry Joanna (Odette Annable), the woman who bullied her so relentlessly in high school. Even more galling, Joanna claims not to remember her.

Marni is furious and determined to break up the impending nuptials. She doesn’t buy Joanna‘s nice-girl act one bit. Meanwhile, as she plots sabotage, her mother (Jamie Lee Curtis) discovers that Joanna‘s aunt (Sigourney Weaver) is her very own high school chum, with whom her relationship went sour. While the middle-aged women try to keep their hostility for one another veiled, Marni scarcely disguises her contempt for her sister-in-law-to-be. Caught in the crossfire of all these negative vibes is good-natured Will. Is there any hope for his marriage?

This movie boasts a cast full of A-listers, which I’m guessing is the main reason that the first time my friend and I tried to rent it, all 20-odd copies were out. In addition to Bell, Weaver and Curtis, there’s Victor Garber as Marni‘s father, who is gently befuddled by all the drama unfolding around him; Kristin Chenoweth as a vivacious dance instructor helping the family prepare for the big reception; and Betty White as Bunny, Marni‘s zesty grandmother. Though less of a big name, I also recognized Wolk from the short-lived drama Lone Star, and he fares well in providing much of the movie’s heart. All of the actresses turn in primarily comedic performances, with slapstick particularly prevailing toward the end.

I found each of the main quartet to be fairly likable, though all of them stoop at some point to ludicrous behavior. Although I sympathized with her, I found Marni the most abrasive of the characters, and I was a little turned off by the extent of her grudge against Joanna. Granted, she suffered great abuse in high school, and certainly an apology is warranted, but some of her actions are still inexcusable. But then the movie’s premise wouldn’t really work if everybody took the high road. This is a movie that requires a massive catfight followed by reconciliation.

White is hilarious as always here, stealing whatever short scenes she has. Annable is the only major cast member I didn’t recognize, and she does a good job of making her character likable despite what we know about her past. Some of the humor is pretty absurd, but I laughed several times, and I enjoyed the heartwarming bits as well. I’m glad we didn’t give up after our first rental attempt because You Again is plenty of fun.

Friday, March 11, 2011

Steve Carell Makes a Lovable Villain in the Sweet and Funny Despicable Me

Last year, I saw a lot of previews for Despicable Me, as well as a lot of commercials making use of the little yellow minions who populate the movie. I was so taken with these odd critters that I got my picture taken with them in the display at my local theater. Somehow, though, I didn’t see the movie until this week. I’m glad I finally got around to it.

I’m generally a fan of Steve Carell, whose career has consisted largely of him playing roles in which he is some sort of lovable loser. That’s the case here as well, but this time, he’s a super-villain named Gru. He’s certainly got the equipment for it; he has an enormous secret lair under his hazardous home, and he oversees thousands of minions, strange jabbering humanoids who are super-short and resemble yellow pills. He rumbles through town in an enormous metal contraption, and every time someone annoys him, he whips out his freeze ray and makes a popsicle out of him. But as the movie begins, he’s bemoaning the fact that a younger villain has pulled off the amazing feat of stealing the Pyramids, and suddenly all his accomplishments look pretty paltry. He needs to think big in order to compete, and what could be bigger than the moon? Indeed, Gru has been obsessed with the moon his whole life, and his plan to steal it, with some help from a shrink ray, is the culmination of that fixation.

Carell puts on a thick Russian accent for Gru, who is grumpy and anti-social but really not prime super-villain material. His hideous dog steals his food and chomps on his arm without repercussions. He leaves money in the tip jar at the coffee shop. He expresses concern for his minions’ job prospects when he believes that his plan is a bust. And whenever he’s in the presence, even by phone, of his severe mother, voiced by Julie Andrews, all of his boyhood vulnerabilities and disappointments come rushing back to him. He desperately wants her validation.

When Vector (Jason Segel), the twerpy, tracksuit-wearing villain who pulled off the Pyramid heist, gets ahold of the shrink ray Gru needs, he realizes that it’s going to take some fancy maneuvering to retrieve it. How can he get inside that fortress? Enter clever, cynical Margo (Miranda Cosgrove), mischievous, disaster-prone Edith (Dana Gaier) and adorable, affectionate Agnes (Elsie Fisher). These three orphan sisters live in a home run by sugary-sweet but sadistic Southerner Miss Hattie (Kristen Wiig), who is eerily reminiscent of Dolores Umbridge, one of the most bone-chilling villains in the Harry Potter universe. She forces them to spend their days peddling cookies, and Vector has a sweet tooth, so Gru decides these girls are his ticket to the access he needs. He adopts them merely as a means to an end. But then a funny thing happens. He starts to get attached to them…

It was pretty obvious from the previews where this story was leading, but that didn’t make getting there any less fun or endearing. This computer-animated movie is visually attractive and filled with sight gags, particularly whenever the minions are on screen. These little guys all look pretty similar, yet each one has a distinct feature or two, and they’re always squabbling or goofing around or creating something in the background, always in the same incomprehensible language. Some of the movie’s most laugh-aloud moments involve them. Gru, meanwhile, is a terrific character, too easy to sympathize with to be repulsive. Each of the girls, so thrilled to have a home at last, reacts to him differently. Agnes adores him instantly, while Edith delights in defying him and Margo is afraid to get too close to him. His interactions with the girls are hilarious but often strangely sweet.

I rented this from Netflix, and I had a strange experience I’d never encountered before. I couldn’t play the bonus features. Instead, a message filled the screen, informing me that I would need to buy the DVD in order to watch the extra features. Is that unique to this movie, I wonder, or will this soon be a commonplace practice? I don’t tend to be that interested in bonus features beyond deleted scenes, but I still found it disappointing. However, the movie itself was every bit as entertaining as I’d hoped it would be. As touching as it is funny, Despicable Me isn’t despicable at all.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Twas the Night Before Easter Retreads The Star of Christmas

It took VeggieTales, the popular Christian series of computer-animated videos, more than a decade to come out with a tale dealing with Easter. Seven years later, they tackle the all-important holiday again with ’Twas the Night Before Easter. I presume that the main reason they went with that title was because the first Easter video, An Easter Carol, is so clearly modeled after A Christmas Carol. But VeggieTales already has four Christmas videos, not to mention a couple of Christmas albums; bringing hints of Christmas into this second Easter story seems a little excessive.

An Easter Carol is a sequel to The Star of Christmas, the Victorian-era Christmas special that ushered in a new, more cinematic approach to Veggie videos. ’Twas the Night Before Easter includes counter-top scenes at the beginning and end and a silly song in the middle, elements missing from those videos, and the setting is modern-day, but what it mostly feels like to me is a retread of The Star of Christmas. It’s in many ways the same story plucked down in a different setting.

Our main character this time around is Marlee, played by Petunia, the rhubarb who has become quite the leading lady of late. As usual, her character enjoys a close friendship with a decent chap portrayed by Larry the Cucumber. Here, she’s a news reporter and he’s her cameraman, but she decides to abandon her job and make a fresh start as a theater producer in hopes of saving the derelict little theater nestled next to the town’s homeless shelter, and her right-hand man soon follows, offering his services as a songwriter. As in Star, then, Larry’s character spends much of the video puzzling over lyrics and trying to write a hit.

Marlee wants to put on a splashy musical because she believes in the power of theater to change lives. Well-to-do Prescott E. Huddlecoat, portrayed by uptight British asparagus Archibald, has plans to tear down the theater and build a playground in its place, but he agrees to offer a reprieve if Marlee can prove that the theater will be profitable. Her enthusiasm knows no bounds, but she’s not too thrilled with her crop of aspiring performers. What she needs is a real star. The good news is that her town has one. The bad news is that she’s booked. Can Marlee convince her to take part in her show the night before Easter when she has to be up early to sing at the sunrise service the next morning?

Like Star, this video involves a lavish and silly theatrical production competing with a humble church service expected to draw a big crowd because of an unusual component. It includes a wacky inventor whose crazy contraption gets the main characters to the church in time for said service. Even though it’s Easter, it’s snowing like crazy, so it looks more like Christmas (not that I haven’t experienced a white Easter or two in my time). Other recycled elements include a theater in flames and a scene of helping the disenfranchised – in prison in Star, in a homeless shelter in this. It’s still entertaining, but there definitely seems to be a certain lack of originality at play here.

The overall tone of the video is fun and chaotic, with lots of zany action and an extended spoof on American Idol and America’s Got Talent in the form of references to a show called America’s Got British Judges, as well as the largely disastrous auditions. The American Idol theme is a retread, too, from the album The Incredible Singing Christmas Tree, though Archibald is the only one of the three judges who participates in both, and my guess is that many people who watch the videos haven’t heard the CDs. I’ll admit I’m one of those folks who’s followed those shows, especially American Idol, fairly faithfully. Hence, these jokes did get a smile out of me, especially when I realized that the big star in question, Cassie Cassava, is voiced by Melinda Doolittle, my favorite contestant from American Idol’s sixth season. Still, it contributes to the general silliness of the episode that is so pervasive, the message almost gets lost in the shuffle.

The Silly Song – or, more accurately, the Latest Dance Craze – has a superficial Easter connection in that the French peas who lead the segment don bunny slippers and ears for the Hoparena. This is a rather frenzied number that reminds me I need to pull out my VeggieTales dance party videogame again, and it’s fun to see Archibald get a little goofy for a change. Still, I wouldn’t rank it very high on my list of favorite Silly Songs; it’s another one that is entertaining to watch but not very sing-along-able. And it’s another part of the episode in which bunnies predominate. They’re almost as omnipresent here as in Rack, Shack and Benny, which is set in a chocolate bunny factory – and we even hear a snippet of the notorious Bunny Song. We have lots of references to eggs and jelly beans, too.

While An Easter Carol is one of the most serious episodes in the Veggie line, this is one of the silliest, and while we do get to see part of an Easter service – and hear not only the big anthem with Cassie but a traditional hymn that has been part of most Easter services I’ve attended – the balance seems off. Additionally, while I applaud the call to serve others as Jesus served, I’m not sure an Easter video is the best occasion for that focus. It seems to be almost glossing over what Jesus did do to rush ahead into what Jesus would do.

I still enjoyed the video, and longtime fans will have fun picking up on allusions to past episodes as well as noting pop culture nods. But there’s a difference between dropping a reference and recycling your own plotline, and most longtime fans will probably pick up on that too, and they’ll also realize that this isn’t the best Easter special VeggieTales has to offer.

Allan Say Describes Having One Foot in Two Worlds in Grandfather's Journey

“Leavin’, it never is easy. There’s no place like home’s what they say…” So begins Ryan Kelly’s The Village That They Call the Moy, a wistful song about emigration and love of one’s hometown. Homesickness is a thread weaving its way through much of Irish folk music, but it’s certainly not unique to immigrants from the Emerald Isle. In the picture book Grandfather’s Journey, Allen Say poignantly describes his grandfather’s experience of exploring the world and making a home in two different countries, with the result that he always was yearning for one while he was in the other.

Say has written other books reflecting his Japanese-American heritage, including Tree of Cranes, which describes a Christmas celebration that incorporates Japanese traditions. In Grandfather’s Journey, Say presents his grandfather as an adventurous young man eager to experience all that America had to offer. With just a sentence or two per page, he conveys the exhilaration of discovery that his grandpa experienced. Eventually, that gives way to nostalgia, to longing for the land of his childhood. So throughout the book there is a gentle tug of war, with both Japan and the United States – particularly California – staking a claim on his heart.

Say’s paintings are realistic and rich in detail. In the first portion of the book, we feel as though we are making the thrilling journey along with his grandpa, with windswept fields, shadowy mountains and towering cliffs all capturing the imagination. America feels wild and unexplored, while there’s a sense of familiarity in the paintings set in Japan. Say does an excellent job of portraying the sense of returning to one’s roots. In addition to the beautiful landscapes, there is his grandfather himself, who we see grow older and whose face often betrays a sense of wistfulness.

This is a finely crafted book that is a bit on the tall side, so it might not fit easily on some shelves, but it would make an excellent addition to a classroom or school library. It has educational value as it provides a glimpse into the immigrant experience, and it does so by encouraging children to see the world through the eyes of Say’s grandfather. Additionally, the connection between the author/narrator and the main character might inspire young readers to talk to their grandparents or other elderly relatives and friends about their experiences.

In Grandfather’s Journey, Say has created a succinct but lovely tribute to his grandfather and, by extension, to all those who have loved more than one home and find themselves forever torn in two. No matter what your cultural background, this Caldecott Award-winning book is an excellent exploration of the ties one immigrant feels to each place he has lived.

A Dying Young Woman Finally Starts to Live in L. M. Montgomery's The Blue Castle

Anne of Green Gables is one of my favorite books, so I’ve curled up with several of L. M. Montgomery’s books over the years, but until I stumbled upon a review of it a couple months ago, I’d never heard of The Blue Castle. I was surprised to see several people laud it as Montgomery’s best, and I decided I would need to read it for myself.

Valancy Stirling is in some ways like Anne Shirley, the irrepressible orphan for whom Montgomery is best known. Although Valancy grows up with a mother and many close relatives, her childhood is quite as miserable as Anne’s pre-Green Gables days, and it stretches out into her adulthood. Like Anne, she delights in nature and literature, and both of these passions are frowned upon. Whenever she can, she retreats into her imagination, where she resides in a magnificent blue castle and sends gallant knights on dangerous missions. But while Anne is a spitfire, Valancy goes about her days sullen and silent, meekly obedient to her stern, self-centered mother. She sees life as something to endure, not enjoy. Moreover, she has never had anyone look at her the way faithful beau Gilbert looked at Anne from the moment they first met.

Valancy lives her life in a state of fearful subservience, and she has no reason to believe that anything will ever change. But then, on her 29th birthday, she goes to the doctor and receives a startling diagnosis. She has a heart condition and can expect to live no longer than another year. Suddenly, all of the terror that gripped her previously relinquishes its hold on her. Why fear offending relatives who she will only need to put up with for another few months? The knowledge of her impending death liberates her, and she decides to make up for nearly three decades of mere dreary existence. For the first time, she intends to really live.

I’m in the midst of reading Jane Austen’s Persuasion, and I found Valancy’s disposition quite comparable to that of the Anne in that book. Like Anne Elliot, she is quiet and obedient as the book begins. One parent is dead, while the other is tyrannical at worst and silly at best. In family gatherings, she tends to fade into the background, aside from tolerating the inevitable jabs about her spinsterhood. Montgomery has never seemed so Austenish to me as in this book, where she systematically skewers each of Valancy’s aunts, uncles and cousins, thereby slyly commenting on the ills of society in general. The Stirlings are really quite a ridiculous, hypocritical lot, from Uncle Benjamin, who fancies himself a comedian with his steady stream of stale riddles, to Cousin Olive, who is classically beautiful and has lorded her superiority over Valancy all her life.

I found myself laughing whenever Montgomery let us peek in on the Stirlings and see their reactions to Valancy’s unexpected behavior. This is a very funny book. At the same time, I was a little concerned because at first, it seems that all Valancy’s new lease on life does is give her license to be snarky. While it’s funny to watch her cut her relatives down to size like an early 20th-century Simon Cowell, and while most of them deserve it, I hoped that Montgomery wasn’t suggesting that the greatest pleasure life can afford is the freedom to insult others openly.

Thankfully, there is more, and as the months tick by and Valancy’s resentment subsides, she takes less visceral pleasure in shocking her relatives. There are deeper joys to be found, like the satisfaction of doing a useful job well or of providing companionship for a friend in need. And there is romance too, with an intriguing man whom most of society has overlooked, and here Montgomery provides one of the best descriptions of what it is like to fall in love that I have ever read. As Valancy distances herself from the chains of her childhood, she at last begins to find in her waking life some of the vibrance she thought reserved only for her dream world.

The Blue Castle is a rather strange novel that is by turns wickedly funny and achingly melancholy. It contains some of Montgomery’s most vivid, insightful writing, and the urgency of Valancy’s situation propels the plot forward. I’m not sure if any Montgomery book can quite trump Anne of Green Gables for me, but as someone Valancy’s age with some similar qualities – though fortunately a much better set of relatives – I certainly was drawn into the narrative. In fact, I could hardly put the book down. If you know and love Anne Shirley but have yet to meet Valancy Stirling, perhaps the time has come to acquaint yourself.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Join Mrs. Pollifax and Agent Farrell For an Albanian Adventure

Heroes come in many forms. In Mrs. Pollifax: Spy, the Leslie H. Martinson-directed film adapted from the mystery series by Dorothy Gilman, spirited civilian widow is one form nobody particularly expected to see, but Emily Pollifax will not be deterred.

Although she has no experience, she’s done her research, and she knows what a dangerous job awaits her if she proceeds with her plan to act as courier for the secret service. Unfazed by the obstacles before her, she takes on her first mission under the guidance of skeptical, bespectacled Mason (James Wellman) and bemused, balding Carstairs (Dana Elcar). Perhaps it seems a bad idea to send an untrained woman approaching her golden years all the way to Mexico to retrieve a valuable object, but the would-be spy certainly doesn’t see it that way. Instead, she embraces her important mission with gusto.

Plucky Mrs. Pollifax does her best with the task handed to her for her time south of the border, but it isn’t until she winds up kidnapped and on a plane with laconic Agent Farrell (Darren McGavin) that her adventure really heats up. It’s at this point that these very different people must put their heads together to outwit their captors, even if it means withstanding torture. Yes, they have landed themselves in a precarious position…

I’ve never read any of Gilman’s novels, so I have no basis for comparison here in terms of faithfulness to characters or story, but I found this to be a fairly engrossing movie, especially once McGavin, who I previously knew only as the potty-mouthed, disgruntled dad in A Christmas Story, shows up. Bringing irrepressible nerve and charm to the role of Mrs. Pollifax is Rosalind Russell, who has a mature beauty about her here.

Before long, the widow manages to endear herself to several of the men holding her prisoner. In particular, she finds allies in youthful sergeant Lulash (John Beck), ailing but jovial general Berisha (Nehemiah Persoff) and shrewd colonel Nexdhet (Harold Gould). I found myself hoping they might even end up willingly aiding her and Farrell in an escape.

Russell and McGavin play well off of each other, with her spunk and his sarcasm evenly matched. I often caught myself laughing aloud over their interactions, particularly McGavin’s dry barbs. True, the movie does drag a bit at times, and it could benefit from smoother editing. Some transitions left me wondering whether I had missed some crucial detail, while some scenes simply go on longer than necessary. However, the dynamic between the leads kept my attention, and I loved seeing Mrs. Pollifax’s clever way of wriggling into the good graces of nearly everyone she meets. She gets high marks for both determination and diplomacy.

Despite their fairly minimal presence in the film, I also enjoyed Carstairs and Mason, who still turn up intermittently once the main action has moved to Mexico. Like Farrell and Pollifax, they have different enough personalities that most of their interactions are humorous, albeit more subtly so.

Adventure abounds toward the end of the film as the focus shifts from escaping prison to escaping Albania. The shift in tone toward outright action feels a bit abrupt, but it injects an extra jolt of energy into the final portion of the movie. Yuletide festivities courtesy of the Albanian officers add to the fun here, especially since this takes place nowhere near Christmas and their way of celebrating is a little unconventional, as are their tree decorations. On the whole, I got a kick out of this light-hearted spy flick.

My parents, who watched it with me, weren’t particularly enthralled, but it was fairly late when I turned it on, so that may have been partly to blame. Unfortunately, this movie doesn’t seem to be available on home video or DVD, but Netflix has is on Instant Viewing. Apparently it also turns up frequently on Turner Classic Movies as well.

If you like a good mix of comedy and espionage, my first recommendation is for you to watch Chuck, the NBC series currently in its fourth season. Rarely have I seen such a perfect blend of genres. Mrs. Pollifax: Spy doesn’t achieve that level of humor or pathos, but if you have a couple of hours to kill, this 1971 movie is pretty fun. Kinda makes me wish I’d read the books; I might have to do something about that…

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Explore the Enigmas of Ghost Fish and Trixie's Whining in The Mystery at Bob-White Cave

In The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, the first book in C. S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia, a relentless rain leaves the stir-crazy Pevensie children down in the dumps. Little do they know that their ticket to adventure is not the expansive grounds of the stately home in which they are staying but the old wardrobe in the spare bedroom. In The Mystery at Bob-White Cave, rain leads intrepid 14-year-old sleuth Trixie Belden to her next great challenge as well, since it forces her to sit still long enough to read a magazine announcing that anyone who brings three particular specimens of the cave-dwelling ghost fish will receive a reward of $500.

Trixie really wants that money, especially since getting it will be tricky enough that succeeding will bring a real sense of accomplishment. She already knows exactly how she wants to use it. She and her fellow Bob-Whites – her brothers Brian and Mart, her best friend Honey and Honey’s adopted brother Jim, all of whom are with her on this trip to the Ozarks, and her neighbors Di and Dan, who aren’t – have a strong desire to help others, and their latest project is to buy a station wagon to bring disabled children to school back in their hometown of Sleepyside, New York. It’s a noble cause, and Trixie is determined, so even though the other four had hoped for a less goal-oriented vacation, they go along with her plan.

This is the eleventh book in the Trixie Belden series and the fifth written by a ghostwriter under the name Kathryn Kenny. If I had to venture a guess, I’d say that this writer was new to the series, partly because she turns Trixie into a kind of all-American Veruca Salt. That notorious brat from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory kept popping into my head as I read all of Trixie’s interminable foot-stamping “But Uncle Andrew, I want a ghost fish! Now!” moaning. The whining begins with the rain, when she goes into a tirade about the misery of this trip to see her favorite uncle in one of his two (or more?) homes. Uncle Andrew is a wonderful, doting man who clearly thinks the world of his niece and nephews, so such ingratitude is instantly off-putting. Trixie soon apologizes for this outburst, which he fortunately doesn’t hear, but her petulance is almost instantly transferred onto the search for the fish, and anything that gets in the way of her securing that prize is an object of extreme impatience.

A more positive element of this book that seems to distinguish this author from others is her attention to natural detail. For instance, “A wind came up through the silence, a silence more ominous than the rolling thunder which accented it. The sky in the west was a sullen green around the edges.” Clearly, this was written by someone with a great appreciation for the outdoors, as her most colorful writing is reserved for descriptions of the forest, the caves and other aspects of the landscape and weather. Usually this means a paragraph or two at a time, so it never overwhelms the story, and it helped me to get caught up in the setting.

Aside from Trixie, who at least apologizes from time to time for being such a pill, none of the characters seem vastly off to me here, except perhaps Honey, who is often excessive in her fretting. However, she still joins in several dangerous expeditions, so her actions speak louder than her words on the fear front, and apart from some chiding for Trixie’s recklessness, her tactful nature is generally evident throughout the book. Aside from brief mentions by the Bob-Whites, Dan and Di don’t appear in the book at all, nor do any of the Sleepyside supporting characters, as the book takes place entirely in the Ozarks. Because of this, it took me a little while to figure out just when the book occurs, though I figured it must have been early summer if they were out of school but the boys were not away at camp.

For the first time, the author introduces a supernatural element into the stories. Well, the seventh book includes some local folk legends, but they don’t really tie into the main plot. Here, Mrs. Moore and her daughter Linnie, who take care of Uncle Andrew’s Missouri fishing lodge, fervently believe in ghosts, and although the Bob-Whites mostly think that all this talk of spirits is a load of hogwash, some mysterious events seem as though they could point to ghostly intervention. Because of that, this particular outing reminded me a bit of a Scooby-Doo adventure, and I just knew that eventually, the “ghost” allegedly wandering around nearby would be revealed as a perfectly normal, living person. I like the revelation there, but Uncle Andrew and the New York bunch seem a little insensitive sometimes as they openly show their disdain for the ghost legends that fill these hills. Mrs. Moore’s constant attribution of incidents to ghosts does get a little silly, but it seems it would be more polite to let her express herself openly instead of always trying to contradict her.

Mostly, though, the Bob-Whites are helpful and friendly during their stay, and even though delays in her fish mission aggravate her, Trixie happily helps sweet-natured Linnie and maternal Mrs. Moore with a variety of tasks, and it is she who mobilizes the group to save a drowning man in one of the book’s best sequences. The rugged terrain means that most of the danger the teens face in this book is natural. A wildcat and a flood pose serious threats. So does a fire, which is set purposefully but is made all the more dangerous by the surrounding woodlands.

However, there are shady characters lurking about, most notably a scowling, drawling young man named Slim whom Uncle Andrew elects to act as the Bob-Whites’ spelunking guide. Is he merely disagreeable, or could this guy be seriously bad news? And what about all that odd activity up at what the locals refer to as the ghost cabin? What’s more, just about anybody in the vicinity could be a contender for the same prize that Trixie seeks, so even those who aren’t willing to stoop to dastardly means to acquire the ghost fish still potentially stand in the way of them achieving their goal. Time is of the essence.

I’ve always found caves fascinating, so I enjoyed all the spelunking expeditions in this novel, as well as the folksy gatherings of neighbors for some old-fashioned mountain music. It was also great to spend so much time in the company of Uncle Andrew, who is such a kind and conscientious caretaker, and his equally upstanding friend Bill Hawkins. While I wish this author hadn’t turned Trixie into such a twerp, this trip to the Ozarks made for a pretty enjoyable outing.

Celtic Thunder Goes Traditional With Transitional Heritage

It’s been a little more than two years since I first listened to Celtic Thunder, the group of several Irishmen and one Scotsman that has been making such a splash on PBS. The first few albums are a solid mix of traditional and pop music, while the last couple of releases have focused mostly on pop. Heritage, the latest album, goes the other way, boasting a track list of folk tunes old and new. As someone who loves traditional Irish music, this is a particular treat for me.

This album also stands out because it is transitional, featuring both Paul Byrom, the “swanky tenor” who is taking his operatic voice solo now, and Emmet Cahill, his young replacement. On board as before are Scotsman George Donaldson and Irishmen Ryan Kelly, Neil Byrne, Keith Harkin and Damian McGinty, along with talented instrumentalists like Declan O’Donaghue, Brendan Monaghan, Seana Davey, Conor McCreanor, Ivan Gilliand, Dave Cooke and Phil Coulter, who has composed many of the group’s songs. Together, they create a rich tapestry of music to stir the spirit.

The Dutchman - Keith kicks off the album with a wistful, folksy rendition of Michael Peter Smith’s poignant song about an elderly man who has lost his mental faculties but not the love of his dear Margaret. The delicate guitar work and the understated percussion beautifully complement Keith’s sensitive performance of this gently meandering song that competes with Mountains of Mourne as my favorite of his Celtic Thunder solos. “He’s mad as he can be, but Margaret only sees that sometimes. Sometimes she sees her unborn children in his eyes.”

Buachaill on Eirne - Damian wowed the crowds on Celtic Thunder’s first release with his clear-voiced rendition of this classic ode to Ireland’s beauty. Back then, he was a mere 14 years old, so hearing the song again now, it almost seems as though someone else is singing. His voice has deepened immensely since then, and with the mellower arrangement and the fact that this time, he sings entirely in Gaelic, it hardly feels like a retread at all. His first pristine version felt like a glowing invitation to visit Ireland, while evidently the lyrics here are quite different and more amorous in nature. In any case, a lovely track.

Black is the Color - This electric guitar-heavy track has a western flair to it, hearkening back to Ride On. Ryan sounds like the Bad Boy here as he growls out the words, but the lyrics to this old folksong are really pretty straightforwardly romantic. The flute toward the end adds a touch of old-world quality to this song that has largely been given a contemporary feel. “Black is the color of my true love’s hair. Her lips are like some roses fair. She’s got the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands, and I love the ground whereon she stands.”

My Love Is Like a Red Red Rose - This sedate piano-driven air written by famed Scottish poet Robert Burns is a nice vehicle for Paul’s talent. It’s very quiet; while he utilizes his upper register quite a bit, he never goes into those loud power notes, instead keeping everything barely above a whisper. But it’s a lovely performance that feels like a coda after Christmas Morning Donegal, which felt to me like his grand finale with the group. “My love is like a red, red rose that’s newly sprung in June. My love is like a melody that’s sweetly played in tune.”

Home From the Sea - This first Phil Coulter original on the album is a wonderful Celtic-flavored seafaring ballad. Considering the fact that Heartland, the song that opened their first concert special, is a prayer by sailors to reach shore safely, this track feels particularly appropriate to the group. While Heartland feels ethereal, Home From the Sea is more robust and earthy, and the lads inject more of their personality into it. While they sing the chorus together, each takes half a verse solo; Damian and Neil get the first verse, Paul and Ryan the second and Keith and George the last. I was particularly impressed with Ryan’s heartfelt reading of the segment in which the sailors are spotted by their saviors and George’s triumphant recounting of the rescue itself. A definite favorite. “Then a flicker of light, and they knew they were right. There she was, on the crest of a wave. She’s an old fishing boat, and she’s barely afloat. Please God, there are souls we can save!”

Just a Song at Twilight - One nice thing about this album is that we have three duets. This track is the first, pairing Paul with Damian. This slow, old-fashioned romantic ode, accompanied by piano and strings, feels more like a Paul song than a Damian song, though it never reaches operatic heights. It’s a low-key little number with a sweet brotherly feel to it, as we get the sense that Paul and Damian are sitting together, recollecting the wonder of having been in love. “Even today, we hear love’s song of yore. Deep in our hearts, it dwells forevermore. Footsteps may falter; weary grows our way. Still we can hear it at the close of day.”

The Galway Girl - This is the most recent song on the album that Coulter didn’t write himself. A lively ballad by Steve Earle about love at first sight in Ireland, it feels like a typical rowdy Irish group song, particularly during the instrumental section, which includes whistles, accordion and plenty of whooping. When I first heard this, I thought for a moment that I’d wandered into an Irish Rovers album. This track is interesting because it’s the first group number to include Emmet – and exclude Paul. It sounds more raucous than melodious, but it’s a fun number. “Let me ask you, friend, what’s a fella to do? ‘Cause her hair was black and her eyes were blue…”

Gold and Silver Days - I’ve long hoped for a duet between George and Ryan, my two favorite members of the group, and had no doubt that any song pairing those two would tug at the heartstrings to some degree. This Coulter original certainly does, and it feels wonderfully fitting for both of them. Most of George’s songs with the group have been family-oriented, so this song reflecting on a happy childhood feels like a natural fit, while Ryan’s signature song outside of Celtic Thunder is The Village That They Call the Moy, a heartfelt ode to his hometown. Bringing the two of them together to wax nostalgic about “days filled with innocence and light” to the accompaniment of gentle harp and wistful whistle makes this an almost unbearably tender track and my favorite on the album. Each seems to truly feel the tug of those bygone days, and their harmonies are exquisite, particularly on the line “we were happy just the same.” Simply gorgeous. “Then we’d gather at the daisy field on Sunday after mass. I can hear the songs, the stories and the laughter. Through the years, we all were scattered, but the friends we made back then were the friends we could rely on ever after.”

Noreen - When I first heard this melancholy piano-driven ballad sung by Neil, it reminded me of the lamentable tale by the Irish mouse in An American Tail on the boat over to America whose true love fell victim to a cat. Neil gets to show off his mastery of the high end of the scale in this melancholy reflection about a love left far behind. In the song, there’s a note of hope that they might reunite, as it is distance rather than death than separates them. Still, there’s a definite depth of sadness to the song that reflects its inspiration. Coulter wrote the instrumental portion as a wedding gift for Liam Neeson and Natasha Richardson, and it was only after her death that he added lyrics, which he meant to convey a searing sense of loss at being kept apart from one who is loved dearly. “So I pray when my exile is over, with the pain and the heartache behind us, back in the peace of the valley you’ll find us, my Noirin, mo Stoirin, and me.”

Kindred Spirits - This is Emmet’s first solo as a part of Celtic Thunder, and it’s the third weepy Coulter original in a row. As a staunch fan of Anne of Green Gables, I love the term “kindred spirits” and often apply it to people in my life with whom I feel a deep sense of connection. The “kindred spirits” in question here are the speaker’s parents. Following the death of his mother, he reflects on his sense of profound loss mingled with contentment that his parents are together again and “kindred spirits” in the truest sense of the word. This song combines the depth of affection for one’s growing-up years found in Gold and Silver Days with the keenly mournful quality of Noreen, and Emmet sings it with great emotion. His voice seems to reflect a classical training, but unlike Paul’s, the Irish accent still seeps through, a nice complement to the harp being serenely plucked in the background. “They shared the load together. They were proud as proud could be. They were always kindred spirits, and they will forever be, for now those kindred spirits will share eternity.”

Whiskey in the Jar - After that somber side trip, we get the rowdiest song on the album to shake everyone out of a stupor. Neil and Keith tear it up on the electric guitars on this, one of the most widely known of Irish folksongs. It’s one of those songs that has slightly different lyrics every time I’ve heard it, which makes it a little hard to sing along with since I keep recalling a different set of words. It’s clear that both of them are having fun with this raucous narrative about outlaws, murder and unfaithfulness. The downside? Usually the speaker concludes the song in a pretty good place, or at least in anticipation of one, but this version ends with him in prison, and we’re given no reason to believe he’ll be getting out any time soon. Still, it’s a rollicking song that’s a great showcase for Neil and Keith’s livelier side. “As I was goin’ over Cork and Kerry Mountains, I saw Captain Farrell, and his money he was countin’…”

Red Rose Café - George’s solo has a tango flavor to it, particularly at the points when the violin is most prominent. Written by prolific Dutch singer-songwriter Pierre Kartner, its lyrics remind me of Billy Joel’s Piano Man as they mostly describe the patrons of the titular café. This is an upbeat sing-along type of song, and George seems to be having a blast with it; it’s easy to imagine him standing on stage throwing his arm out at the audience as he sings. Incidentally, aside from the songs involving Emmet, whose inclusion in the group was not announced until a couple of months after the concert was filmed, this is the only song that does not appear on the Heritage DVD.

A Place in the Choir - When I was a kid, this chipper ditty by Bill Staines was my favorite Sunday school song, so I was thrilled to hear it at the Celtic Thunder concert back in October. Of the ensemble songs on this album, this one is the most harmonious as well as the most fun. There’s a lot of personality injected into the performance that doesn’t quite come across just listening to it, but you still get a strong sense of camaraderie. The song is really quite appropriate for Celtic Thunder, as it’s about those who are different joining together to make a joyful noise. Just as great as the singing is the accompaniment, which incorporates fiddle and banjo and sounds like a good old-fashioned hoe-down. A great way to close the album. “All God’s creatures got a place in the choir. Some sing low and some sing higher. Some sing out loud on the telephone wire, and some just clap their hands or paws or anything they got now.”

With St. Patrick’s Day right around the corner, this is an ideal time to pick up Celtic Thunder’s latest album, which has a more distinctly Celtic flavor than any previous release. While the group looks and sounds a bit different now than it did in the beginning, these lads are still going strong, and I look forward to seeing what they come up with next.

Friday, March 4, 2011

An Anonymous Love Letter Has the Whole Town in a Tizzy

In a tiny town in New England, a love letter arrives in a bookstore. It’s addressed to no one and signed from no one. The first woman to see it assumes that it’s for her. Later, the letter passes into other hands, and each reader makes the same assumption, with the result that there’s a lot of love in the air in Loblolly by the Sea. Could unlikely relationships spring from this catalyst? And where did it come from?

This is the premise behind Peter Chan’s The Love Letter, written by Maria Maggenti. Early on, the film makes a visual reference to A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and the plot reminded me a bit of that, with this letter causing everyone to fall for each other instead of magic potions. Just reading those intense words has a strange effect on each recipient. It makes them feel appreciated and validated. It causes them to look at others in a new light.

I love the cozy setting of the movie. This is a picturesque little village, and cinematographer Tami Reiker consistently brings out its beauty. I often found myself wanting to step right into the screen, whether it showed the sunny streets or the charming bookstore where much of the movie takes place. The dialogue mostly matches up with that innocent small-town feel; there’s scarcely any profanity, though one self-referential slur surfaces and two characters drop an f-bomb, each of which feels totally out of place.

While most of the dialogue is pretty clean, it’s generally not that interesting. The best bits involve lusty, perpetually late bookstore employee Janet (Ellen DeGeneres), who has a tendency to prattle amusingly about inane topics, and quiet, good-natured firefighter George (a sadly mustacheless Tom Selleck), who frequents the shop. DeGeneres and Selleck easily give the most engaging performances in the movie, and their characters feel much more real than the others.

Kate Capshaw, who also produced the movie, is Helen, the emotionally repressed bookstore owner. I know she’s acting detached, but it was the actor as much as the character that felt stiff and uninteresting to me. She spends most of the movie with a bit of a grimace on her face, and at several points, she seems to forget her lines. Her delivery is just off, and it doesn’t help that a lot of her dialogue isn’t very good to begin with.

A similar complaint could be applied to Tom Everett Scott, who made such an adorable lead in That Thing You Do!. Here, as bookstore employee Johnny, he’s still cute, but his personality is less attractive and his performance is often wooden and lacking energy. Julianne Nicholson is a little livelier as Jennifer, the last of the bookstore crew, but there’s an abrasive edge to her that gets wearying after a while.

Other characters come and go, and seemingly insignificant interactions lay the groundwork for the ultimate revelation of who wrote the love letter and why, but the ending still felt somehow tacked-on and unnatural to me. The letter doesn’t get passed around town as much as it could, and after the first reading, in which Helen hears everyone she meets reciting bits of the letter as she tries to figure out who might have written it, the constant repetition of its lines gets tedious. Frankly, it’s really not that thrilling a letter, and anything so generic that anybody in town could think it applies to her or him obviously doesn’t contain a lot of specific personal sentiment.

Ultimately, then, this movie didn’t really deliver for me, in either the romance or the comedy department. There were moments I thought were sweet and moments I thought were funny, but mostly I found it rather dull and clunky. It did make me want to visit New England, and it did serve as a reminder that making assumptions can lead to absurd consequences. But if you write this Letter off, you won’t be missing too much.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Pranks, Trains, Bubbles and Squishballs Are on the Loose in Playtime With Pooh

When I was growing up, I couldn’t get enough of The New Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, the animated series that ran from the late 80s to the early 90s and gave Pooh and his pals a distinctly American feel. Though the series was never released in complete seasons, several compilation DVDs feature episodes that are thematically related. Playtime With Pooh all have to do with the Hundred-Acre Wood gang getting into some imaginative mischief and features great voice work by Jim Cummings as Pooh, Paul Winchell as Tigger, John Fiedler as Piglet, Ken Sansom as Rabbit, Michael Gough as Gopher, Peter Cullen as Eeyore and Tim Hoskins as Christopher Robin.

April Pooh - Something is amiss with the pot of honey in Pooh’s pantry. It’s too sticky, even for honey; it feels more like glue. Christopher Robin explains that it’s April Fool’s Day, so he’ll have to be on the lookout for pranks. Pooh isn’t sure he likes this idea much, so he wanders through the wood to see if his friends have been pranked and whether this April Fool is someone they should be nervous about. A cute episode with some creative tricks, my favorite of which involves fooling Piglet into thinking that his house is underwater.

The Good, the Bad and the Tigger - A tribute to westerns. Christopher Robin invites his stuffed pals over to his house to check out his new train set. All are intrigued, but Tigger is the most impressed. In fact, he can’t wait to get his paws on those controls. But Christopher Robin warns Tigger before his mother calls him away for a few minutes not to try to operate the train while he’s gone. Tigger disobeys, leading to a fun fantasy sequence in which Sherriff Piglet must decide whether to lay down the law and deliver train-napping Tigger and his unwitting accomplice Pooh into the hands of the grim Gopher and his ominous tire swing. It’s always fun to see Pooh and his friends in totally different surroundings, and the tweaking of the conventions of westerns in this one is really fun.

Bubble Trouble - I’ve always loved the idea of a portable hole, which has come up a number of times in cartoons. How convenient it would be to be able to pick up a hole and carry it with you, then slap it down wherever you wanted! This is the only Pooh episode I recall using this device, which adds to a slight sense of unreality even within this fantastical world, but that’s okay. Poor Gopher has lost his favorite hole in a windstorm, and nobody seems to care. Meanwhile, Tigger has perfected a super-strong bubble, and Pooh is trapped inside of one. Will he ever escape? Each thread is fun on its own, and I love the way they come together in the end. This episode also includes one of my favorite uses of the series’ mournful music as Pooh contemplates having to spend the rest of his life stuck in a bubble.

What’s the Score, Pooh? - Aside from Poohsticks, the most popular game in the Hundred-Acre Wood is Squishball, a marvelously zany game that has no clear-cut rules. You just pick up whatever game gear is available and make things up as you go along. My brother and I used to play our own version of this with our neighbor, and it was a lot of fun. Here, we find Pooh, Piglet, Tigger and Rabbit engaged in quite a ferocious match spanning the whole forest. Meanwhile, Eeyore is in the midst of rebuilding his house, but every time he thinks he’s done, something comes along to destroy it again. His house designs get ever fancier, but it seems nothing can save his poor house from winding up a shabby pile of sticks. One of the most rambunctious Pooh episodes ever.

If you love the Silly Old Bear and don’t mind some departures from his original form, The New Adventures of Winnie the Pooh is a wonderful show, and this is a grand collection to give you a taste of what made this version of Winnie the Pooh so fun.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Bullock and Reeves Write Their Way Into Each Other's Hearts in The Lake House

I’d heard some pretty tepid reviews of The Lake House, the 2006 Sandra Bullock-Keanu Reeves romance about two people engaged in a most unconventional epistolary relationship, so it wasn’t a movie I’d been dying to see. However, I love movies in which letter-writing plays a prominent part, so I finally decided to give it a shot.

Directed by Alejandro Agresti and based on the Korean movie Siworae, the film focuses on Kate Forster (Bullock), a kind doctor, and Alex Wyler (Reeves), a business-minded architect. When she departs from the lake house where she has been living, she leaves a letter in the mailbox for the home’s next occupant. He reads the letter but is confused by its contents. He puts his response into the mailbox and lifts the flag. Before long another letter appears. It only takes a little experimentation for them to discover the bizarre truth: that he is living in 2004 and she in 2006, and this mailbox is the key to their communication. (Conveniently, he never receives mail from anyone else. Maybe he didn’t tell anyone his address?)

While nobody in the movie actually time travels, the letters do, as do occasional objects, like the scarf Kate sends Alex on the day that she remembers a freak April blizzard will hit. LOST’s Daniel Faraday and Back to the Future’s Doc Brown would never approve the liberties taken with the space-time continuum here, but as long as you accept that there will be a couple of paradoxical points, this is a pretty enjoyable movie. I thought it was a little slow getting started, but once the letter-writing began in earnest, I was sucked in.

Both Kate and Alex have a distinct advantage over the other in this correspondence. Because she lives precisely two years in the future, Kate can give Alex details about things that happened on that day in 2004. (Oddly enough, given his rather materialistic outlook in the beginning, he never suggests that she send him an almanac and give him the opportunity to make a killing betting on sporting events; maybe he saw Back to the Future II and thought better of it!) Alex’s advantage is that he can manipulate past events for her instant gratification. For example, he writes graffiti on a wall downtown to let her know that they were in the same place two years apart.

As their correspondence continues and their regard for each other deepens, a chance encounter brings Alex face to face with Kate. He knows her identity, but she has no idea who he is yet, so this aspect of the movie reminded me a bit of You’ve Got Mail. However, the future Alex isn’t so easy for Kate to track down, and as she despairs of ever meeting Alex in her present, Kate’s giddiness begins to wear off. Is this long-distance relationship little more than a dream?

Earlier this year, I started reading Jane Austen’s Persuasion, so I got a kick out of seeing that book about love deferred taking a prominent role in the story midway through. (Another point of similarity with You’ve Got Mail, which prominently featured Austen’s Pride and Prejudice.) Kate’s description of the novel doesn’t seem like the most accurate summary, but there certainly are thematic connections between the movie and the book, mainly having to do with the idea of waiting a long time to unite with a loved one. More than Persuasion, it reminded me of The Constant, the fan-favorite LOST episode that heavily involves both time travel (of sorts) and patient love. There’s something very sweet in this meeting of the minds, especially on Kate’s end, since she lacks the immediacy of experience that Alex gets when he meets her in his present. She loves Alex without having a clear idea of what he looks or sounds like. But getting their timelines in sync seems impossible.

I generally like Bullock in her movies, and I found her very enjoyable here. Reeves doesn’t usually seem all that engaging to me, and he lacks the warm presence of someone like Tom Hanks, but I mostly liked him too, especially the voiceovers of his letters. Probably about half the movie contains these voiceovers, and Agresti is creative in how he shows the two, so that at times we forget how much actually separates them. They seem as though they could reach out and touch each other. What this really means is that Kate must need to spend an awful lot of time out at the Lake House, which isn’t technically hers any longer, just standing by the mailbox with a pad of paper so the two of them can carry on what amounts to a cumbersome IM session. Most of the letters are quite short; some are only a few words long.

Both Kate and Alex have outside romantic interests, but only just. Kate’s is nice enough, but he’s dull as dishwater and incredibly clingy. It’s obvious in their few scenes together that Kate can’t muster any passion for him. Alex, too, has someone who’s more of a tagalong than a girlfriend, and her possessive and ditsy traits don’t make her very endearing either. Alex and Kate describe themselves to each other as single, which sparked an interesting discussion with my parents. Does that mean that they consider themselves unattached or just unmarried? The movie doesn’t make it entirely clear. My parents were shocked to realize that for me, “single” means “does not have a significant other,” while I was shocked to realize that their definition of “single” even includes people who are engaged. Is it a generational thing, I wonder?

More interesting than the not-really romantic rivals are the parents. Willeke van Ammelrooy is affectionate and slightly exotic as Kate’s mother, who clearly enjoys a very close relationship with her. I loved her emotional openness and her easy acceptance of Kate’s strange situation, and some of my favorite scenes involved their heart-to-heart talks. Alex’s relationship with his father, a famous architect reminiscent of Frank Lloyd Wright, is more complicated. They haven’t spoken to each other in years, and Christopher Plummer’s largely vitriolic performance makes it easy to see why. Through him, we gain a much keener understanding of what makes Alex tick.

Movies revolving around letters are hard to come by, so I certainly recommend this to those who still value the art of correspondence, though probably the best movie I’ve seen that focuses on good old-fashioned snail mail is the quiet Anthony Hopkins-Anne Bancroft vehicle 84 Charing Cross Road. Still, if letters hold as much magic for you as they do for me, this is one love story on which I will gladly put my stamp of approval.