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.

Emma Thompson and Dustin Hoffman Embrace Change in Last Chance Harvey

Dustin Hoffman first became a household name with The Graduate, in which he portrayed young Benjamin Braddock, a recent college graduate quailing under the uncertainty of the future that stretches before him. In Last Chance Harvey, he has more occasion to look backward as Harvey Shine, a washed-up jingle writer traveling to London to attend the wedding of the daughter he now feels he barely knows. Just how uninvolved he’s been in her life is hammered home when Susan (Liane Balaban) informs him that she intends to ask her stepfather to stand up for her at the ceremony.

This is primarily Harvey’s story, but it’s also the tale of Kate Walker (Emma Thompson), an airport survey taker who receives incessant phone calls from her mother (Eileen Atkins), a lonely woman who has little better to do than pester her daughter and obsess over the possibility that her new next-door neighbor may be a violent criminal. Kate, too, lives a solitary life, and her friends’ attempts to fix her up with someone fail to inspire her. When Harvey, having just missed the flight back to the United States upon which his job depends, strikes up a conversation with Kate, she’s not too interested in making a connection. But Harvey, determined to find a silver lining in his otherwise dismal day, is surprisingly persistent...

Last Chance Harvey, written and directed by Joel Hopkins, is a quiet movie about two rather despondent people stumbling into romance at a time when it is neither expected nor particularly welcome. To fall in love now means complications, especially for a couple normally separated by an ocean. It’s also about familial relationships, particularly between parents and children. The time has come for Harvey to repair his fractured relationship with his daughter and become a bigger part of her life, while Kate needs to learn how to allow herself some distance from her over-involved mother.

There are elements of comedy in the movie, but they’re mostly understated. It’s more of a drama with a side of romance; I wouldn’t classify it primarily as a romance because we’re only allowed to see the beginnings of this kinship, and it’s more about two fairly set-in-their-ways people demonstrating a willingness to change. The biggest step for her is accepting Harvey’s initial invitation to lunch, while his biggest step comes shortly thereafter. This causes the film’s conclusion to feel just a bit anti-climactic, though there’s still some tension as it seems circumstances may intervene to prevent a satisfying ending.

I’m not that surprised the movie failed to do very well in theaters; it appeals primarily to an over-40 audience, and I certainly can’t see many people under 20 clamoring to see it. It’s not a movie in which very much happens, and what does happen occurs with very little fanfare, but on a rainy day when you’re looking for a way to while away the hours, take a chance on Last Chance Harvey.

Never Before Has Neverland Seemed So Within Our Grasp

Last year, I watched Two Brothers and fell in love with Freddie Highmore, the English answer to Haley Joel Osment. I soon learned he was set to star with Johnny Depp in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, a prospect that pleased me very much. But in the meantime, there was another film starring the two to watch out for: Finding Neverland. I already was convinced of the superiority of the cast, but glowing reviews from friends and critics and an NPR program in which an expert on accents applauded Depp’s work in the film made me even more eager to see it. As too often occurs, I missed it in the theater, but I was all too happy to finally watch it when it came out on video.

I’ve always been a fan of Peter Pan – the general story if not every version – but over the course of several years, particularly in college, my information led me to believe that author J. M. Barrie was at best deluded, at worst a pedophile, and probably both. When I first heard of this movie, I thought it might be rather gritty and cynical. As it turned out, it was just the opposite. I don’t know which account to believe, but I certainly like this one better, and the idealist in me embraces it.

Depp stars as Scotland native Barrie, and I must say that he was awfully easy on the ear. I don’t mask my prejudices. There are few things in this world more beautiful than a Scottish accent. It’s the reason I fell in love with Billy Boyd; it’s the reason I started watching Craig Ferguson after Letterman every night. So even though Depp naturally has just a plain old American accent, I forget that in an instant here. Flawless. But there’s more to this performance than admirable command of a dialect. Depp portrays Barrie as a man rather like Michael Jackson (ironic given the abundant comparisons his role as Willy Wonka produced) but with none of the creepy oddball associations. The people around him may make those accusations, but we see him simply as a gentle man intimately in touch with his inner child and unable to mold himself to the conventions of polite society. Like John Denver, his life’s work and his charitable causes are of greater concern to him than his personal life, which has deep ramifications for his relationship with his wife (Radha Mitchell).

In Barrie’s case, the “charitable cause” that consumes him and troubles his wife is the family of Sylvia Llewelyn Davies (Kate Winslet), a recently widowed woman with a brood of four boys, three of whom (Joe Prospero, Nick Roud, Luke Spill) are energetic and imaginative. The odd one out is Peter (Highmore), who is deeply scarred by his father’s death and has little use for the falderal Barrie happily trots out for the boys’ benefit. Nonetheless, the author perseveres, encouraging Peter to write his own stories. Meanwhile, he is so inspired by his afternoon romps with the children that he recovers from a writing slump, writing what is destined to be by far his most popular play, though his producer (Dustin Hoffman) is overcome with worry that this exceedingly strange piece of theater will be a colossal flop. Hoffman remains an understated comic presence, and I can only assume he was asked to assume the role as a nod to his performance as Hook in the film of the same name. At the same time, Sylvia’s stern mother (Julie Christie) shows increasing disapproval of the playwright’s involvement with her daughter and grandchildren, particularly once Sylvia begins to display signs of a serious illness.

The look of this film is magical, suffused with dappled sunlight that almost invariably overpowers the shadows that linger on the periphery. The visions of Neverland are especially bright, and for fans of the story it’s exhilarating to feel as though we are watching the genesis of these beloved characters and events. Perhaps my favorite such moment is when Barrie observes the Davies children jumping on the bed and imagines them continuing upwards instead of falling back upon the soft mattress, flying out of the open window into a land where they will never grow older and never change. As much as he tries to preserve their innocence, he cannot shield them from harsh reality, but he can give them a gift: the power of story, latent within each of them, to unlock the magic so many weary souls have left behind and never attempted to reclaim.

Top-notch acting, superior cinematography, a gentle story and tender score all come together to create a masterpiece of which all its participants can be proud. Peter flies high once again, and he’s never before looked so much like one of us.

Not Too Unfortunate of an Adaptation

The end of 2004 marked the first holiday movie season after Lord of the Rings, which meant that there couldn’t possibly be a film that would create the same level of anticipation in me. Still, there were several movies in which I had at least a moderate interest, and so far I’ve managed to see most of them. A glaring exception is Finding Neverland, which never even made it to a theater in Erie. For shame.

A couple weeks ago, my dad noticed that A Series of Unfortunate Events had hit the dollar theater, and he offered to take me to see it that weekend. We went, though Dad didn’t have a very clear idea of what he was in for. He certainly didn’t expect the first unfortunate event, a glitch that resulted in his seeing a trailer for Pooh’s Heffalump Movie upside-down and backwards. I was getting popcorn at the time and was spared the opportunity to search for Satanic messages in the trailer that was so benign the right way around.

But to the film. I applaud the creativity of the opening and closing. The animated bits that persist through the end of the credits reward those few who actually bother to stick around until the screen switches back to its intermediary line-up of trivia and Coke ads. Meanwhile, the beginning sequence, presenting in an obnoxiously bright and cheerful manner the adventures of a happy little elf, calls to mind the fake cover so graciously provided to readers of Lemony Snicket’s Unauthorized Autobiography.

These are potentially the most self-referential stories I’ve ever read, and the film goes to just as much trouble as the books to warn us of impending danger and offer a more palatable alternative. Jude Law, hunched over an antiquated typewriter, provides the doleful, sympathetic voice of Lemony Snicket himself. That narratorial presence is my favorite part of the books, and Law inhabits the role naturally, his vocal timbre a perfect match for Snicket’s warnings and foreshadowing.

The other most impressive on-screen presence is, of course, Jim Carrey. As the film was
promoted, Count Olaf was about the only part of the movie anyone seemed to care about. Carrey camps it up as much as he can, making Olaf a little less sinister and a little more ludicrous. I saw Carrey promoting the movie on Letterman, and he explained that his take on Olaf was a wannabe actor who is very bad at what he does. All of his characterizations are over-the-top and easy to see through; though he reappears in several different guises, the unfortunate Baudelaire orphans recognize him immediately each time (though their incompetent legal representative, Mr. Poe (Timothy Spall) can never see it until it is too late). As in the Austin Powers films, the villain is the most comical character. Of his later incarnations, I find Stefano, the man who comes to assist the reptile-loving Uncle Monty (Billy Connolly), quite irritating, but I love his role as the crusty old sea captain who woos paranoid Aunt Josephine (Meryl Streep). This is fortunate for me, since I adore Uncle Monty but find Aunt Josephine extremely grating.

The orphans, particularly Violet (Emily Browning) and Klaus (Liam Aiken), spend most of the film looking quite somber. Infant Sunny (Kara and Shelby Hoffman) seems to take a brighter view of things, adopting a disposition to match her name. Violet and Klaus are fine, but Sunny gets on my nerves, mainly because of her sarcastic comments (which appear in subtitles as she can only make a series of babyish sounds). The younger members of the audience found this very amusing, but I thought the remarks were stupid and very out of keeping with the style of the book. Snicket does frequently provide possible translations for Sunny’s gurgling, but these speculative bits of dialogue are droll and worth a chuckle. In the film, they’re just going for cheap laughs, and it degrades the integrity of Snicket’s idiosyncratic linguistic usage.

As I mentioned before, Uncle Monty, the affectionate, eccentric snake collector, is a character I hold in high regard. When I read the book, I fell in love with him after some trepidation, initially fearing that he might be as untrustworthy as Count Olaf. He soon became my favorite character in the series up to that point, so I was pleased to see him make the transition to film so well. I did not pick up on his being Scottish in the book, so that was a nice surprise as well. The lilting melody he sings to the orphans with the aid of one of his favorite snakes was one of the film’s high points for me.

Several high-profile actors put in an appearance in the film, most oddly Dustin Hoffman in a very brief role as a theater critic and Gilbert Gottfried uttering just one squawk as a very familiar-looking duck. It’s not so much the actors, though, as the set design that captures the attention. The film is gorgeously grotesque, and every set piece (with the exception of those used in the opening sequence) has a bit of a gothic feel to it.

The film combines the first three books and takes considerable liberties with the material. We still wind up with the ending from the first book, though it is considerably altered to make for a more acceptably dramatic movie climax. While the conclusion is rather dreary and certainly open-ended enough to allow for a sequel, Law’s narration prevents it from seeming like a true unhappy ending. In fact, the film’s last words are “In that sense, they were very fortunate indeed.” Well, I guess a little thread of warm and fuzzy running through all that darkness can’t hurt.

The movie is not as good as the books, but it’s a pretty good adaptation, especially in visual terms. Fans of the books should check it out. And if they can get past the inherent oddity of the movie, as my dad eventually did, the unindoctrinated may just be inspired to pick up one of Mr. Snicket’s books themselves.