Years ago, my great-uncle, a jovial man known by the nickname Happy,
died, leaving behind a large collection of movies he had taped off of
television. We inherited many of those, one of which was The Cat from Outer Space.
Most of those tapes went kaput long ago, but I remember my brother
Benjamin being enthralled with this particular movie when it made its
way to us. This fall, I watched it again for the first time since the
mid-90s, this time with my brother Nathan, who wasn’t quite so
mesmerized but still found the movie fun.
As the movie opens,
we see the landing of a vessel from outer space that contains an alien
intelligence in communication with his commander. It isn’t until the
conversation ends that we see who was talking: a nondescript cat who
spends the next 20 minutes or so of the movie silently observing the
ruckus the landing of his ship has caused. Finally, he reveals himself
to a bumbling scientist rather like the title character in The Absent-Minded Professor, explaining that he needs help getting back to his ship after gathering the materials needed to get it running again.
That scientist is the endearing Frank, played by Ken Berry, who I mostly know as the sweet-natured Willoughby in Herbie Rides Again.
I found his presence interesting because I could have sworn that his
role was occupied by Dean Jones, who starred in the original Herbie
movie and a sequel. I think Berry makes more sense in this role,
however; while Jones tends to come across as rather arrogant, Berry
instead projects a charming awkwardness that is especially apparent in
his dealings with his perky colleague Liz (Sandy Duncan), whose crush on
him causes considerable complications throughout the movie.
The cat, who takes on the name Jake after Frank gives it to him, is
voiced by Ronnie Schell, whose delivery is rather detached, with certain
novelties arousing unexpected interest. For instance, Jake is very
impressed with human cuisine, particularly tuna, and Sandy’s female cat
proves a definite distraction. Jake’s ability to interact with humanity
in an unusual way comes from his collar, which glows when its powers are
in use. With it, he can transmit thoughts out loud and manipulate
matter with his mind as well; without it, his skills are limited to
those of a typical housecat.
As a big fan of the classic TV show M*A*S*H,
I found it curious that both McLean Stevenson and Harry Morgan are in
this movie, though they rarely interact. Stevenson played the rather
inept Colonel Blake on the series, while Morgan was the more efficient
Colonel Potter, who replaced him several seasons in. Here, Stevenson is
Frank’s buddy Link, a loafer whose addiction to gambling proves
surprisingly helpful, while Morgan is the irritable General Stilton, who
is trailed by a gaggle of underlings who pass instructions to each
other. Stilton is in charge of the investigation into Jake’s ship, so
getting past him is an obstacle, though he mostly serves as comic
relief. The more potent antagonist is Mr. Olympus (William Prince), who,
thanks to the efforts of weaselly freelance spy Stallwood (Roddy
McDowall), has a pretty good idea of what Jake’s collar can do and will
stop at nothing to harness that power himself.
This is a silly
movie, no doubt about it. Like countless Disney sports comedies, it
involves using dubious methods in order to secure a victory, in this
case for the purposes of winning enough money to repair Jake’s ship. The
government officials are ineffective, and as concerned as they are
about Jake’s ship, they certainly don’t keep it very well guarded. The
ending leaves some rather significant threads dangling, and some of the
dialogue is just plain goofy. My favorite instance would have to be
Link, having burst in on Frank in the middle of using Jake’s collar to
levitate himself, plopping down on the couch and then casually asking,
“Say, what were you doing up in the air?”
I knew from my experience of watching Herbie Goes to Monte Carlo
with him a couple years back that my sophisticated brother would
probably find plenty of reasons to pick the movie apart, and I was
right, but we still had a great time watching the movie together, and
his running commentary just added to the hilarity of the movie for me. The Cat from Outer Space is a madcap comedy with an A-list cast, and I happily recommend its brand of intergalactic silliness.
Showing posts with label MASH. Show all posts
Showing posts with label MASH. Show all posts
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Friday, September 16, 2011
Charlie Tries to Participate in His Own Life in The Perks of Being a Wallflower
When I realized that it was Banned Books time again, I wondered what I
could review to take part in the write-off. I haven’t read anything very
controversial lately and I wanted it to be something fresh in my mind,
so I figured this merited a trip to the library. A glance at the list of
recently banned books turned up Stephen Chbosky’s The Perks of Being a Wallflower, which has long intrigued me as I am a wallflower myself.
In this epistolary novel, a high school freshman named Charlie chronicles his year from August to August through a series of letters to an anonymous recipient who never writes back. He neither expects nor wants a response; he simply likes the idea of knowing that somewhere out there, another person knows his innermost thoughts. The idea that an actual individual is reading his words gives them focus. While he goes off on tangents from time to time, it’s generally pretty easy to follow his line of thinking.
Charlie is a sweet kid who feels more like an observer than a participant in his own life. The book opens with his recollection of his only friend’s suicide earlier in the year. It doesn’t take long to see that Charlie is a deeply sensitive soul who cries at the drop of a hat and who intently watches everyone around him and develops keen insights into how they operate while they barely notice his presence. He comes across as deeply naïve, empathetic and anxious, always thinking primarily of the good of others, always obsessing over what he might have done differently in a particular situation, never knowing how to refuse a request that makes him uncomfortable or initiate something that he wants to have happen. While I have never been in most of the gritty situations he describes, I often found his general way of reacting to things comparable to my own, especially in high school.
It helps that he spends so much of the book drawing in various references to pop culture. When one of his favorite memories involves watching the series finale of M*A*S*H and he includes a Simon and Garfunkel song on a mix tape, how can I not like this kid? The novel is also propelled by the reading of books, since Charlie’s English teacher, a hip young man who insists upon being called Bill outside of class, has given him a list of classics to ingest and write about as a sort of independent study. Charlie rarely goes into depth discussing these books, but they help provide a framework for the year.
Charlie’s home life is generally supportive. His mother dotes on him, while his father is more distant but never abusive, as Charlie is quick to point out lest his reader think he has it worse than he does. His macho older brother has just started his freshman year playing football for Penn State, a detail that made this Penn State Behrend alum smile, and his sister is a high school senior developing some very bad habits when it comes to boys. Their relationship is one of the most tumultuous and interesting of the book, and an early passage wonderfully illuminates the dynamic between them.
”I hate you.”
My sister said it different than she said it to my dad. She meant it with me. She really did.
“I love you,” was all I could say in return.
This exchange is typical of Charlie’s interactions with others. He always wants to think the best of people even when they have done terrible things. On the other hand, when he does something regrettable, he can’t stop beating himself up over it. When he does find some friends, he becomes the go-to shoulder to cry on, but while he enjoys his time with these vivacious people, he still often feels as though he is on the fringes, particularly when it comes to Sam, the senior who he considers the sweetest, most beautiful girl he has ever known.
If this book were a movie, it would most definitely be rated R. I can think of a dozen reasons why it might have been challenged, starting with the suicide. The book deals heavily with myriad aspects of teen sexuality, from Charlie’s first erotic dream – which he spends most of the year trying to forget – to the covert relationship between Sam’s brother Patrick and the quarterback of the high school football team. Throughout the year, Charlie is exposed to and sometimes ingests alcohol, marijuana and LSD, and he becomes thoroughly addicted to cigarettes. Other controversial topics that arise include molestation, domestic abuse, racism and abortion. Finally, while Charlie has a very clean mouth, he occasionally quotes the profanity of others, and most of it is pretty harsh.
If my first introduction to this book was that laundry list of topics, I doubt I’d be too interested in picking it up. As it was, I won’t pretend that some of the things I read didn’t make me squirm. However, Charlie’s compassion and idealism as he observes and weathers some very difficult issues keep this from being depressing or degrading. It also was a quick read, with the 210 pages only taking me a few hours to get through. While I wouldn’t recommend this to anyone younger than high school, I wouldn’t ban it either, and considering how many teens report feeling disenfranchised, I’m sure that many would relate to Charlie’s struggles to understand his place in the world. “I think everyone is special in their own way,” Charlie tells his unknown reader late in the book. “I really do.” Maybe that’s a message that a few wallflowers who feel that they have outgrown the affirmations of Mr. Rogers could stand to hear again.
In this epistolary novel, a high school freshman named Charlie chronicles his year from August to August through a series of letters to an anonymous recipient who never writes back. He neither expects nor wants a response; he simply likes the idea of knowing that somewhere out there, another person knows his innermost thoughts. The idea that an actual individual is reading his words gives them focus. While he goes off on tangents from time to time, it’s generally pretty easy to follow his line of thinking.
Charlie is a sweet kid who feels more like an observer than a participant in his own life. The book opens with his recollection of his only friend’s suicide earlier in the year. It doesn’t take long to see that Charlie is a deeply sensitive soul who cries at the drop of a hat and who intently watches everyone around him and develops keen insights into how they operate while they barely notice his presence. He comes across as deeply naïve, empathetic and anxious, always thinking primarily of the good of others, always obsessing over what he might have done differently in a particular situation, never knowing how to refuse a request that makes him uncomfortable or initiate something that he wants to have happen. While I have never been in most of the gritty situations he describes, I often found his general way of reacting to things comparable to my own, especially in high school.
It helps that he spends so much of the book drawing in various references to pop culture. When one of his favorite memories involves watching the series finale of M*A*S*H and he includes a Simon and Garfunkel song on a mix tape, how can I not like this kid? The novel is also propelled by the reading of books, since Charlie’s English teacher, a hip young man who insists upon being called Bill outside of class, has given him a list of classics to ingest and write about as a sort of independent study. Charlie rarely goes into depth discussing these books, but they help provide a framework for the year.
Charlie’s home life is generally supportive. His mother dotes on him, while his father is more distant but never abusive, as Charlie is quick to point out lest his reader think he has it worse than he does. His macho older brother has just started his freshman year playing football for Penn State, a detail that made this Penn State Behrend alum smile, and his sister is a high school senior developing some very bad habits when it comes to boys. Their relationship is one of the most tumultuous and interesting of the book, and an early passage wonderfully illuminates the dynamic between them.
”I hate you.”
My sister said it different than she said it to my dad. She meant it with me. She really did.
“I love you,” was all I could say in return.
This exchange is typical of Charlie’s interactions with others. He always wants to think the best of people even when they have done terrible things. On the other hand, when he does something regrettable, he can’t stop beating himself up over it. When he does find some friends, he becomes the go-to shoulder to cry on, but while he enjoys his time with these vivacious people, he still often feels as though he is on the fringes, particularly when it comes to Sam, the senior who he considers the sweetest, most beautiful girl he has ever known.
If this book were a movie, it would most definitely be rated R. I can think of a dozen reasons why it might have been challenged, starting with the suicide. The book deals heavily with myriad aspects of teen sexuality, from Charlie’s first erotic dream – which he spends most of the year trying to forget – to the covert relationship between Sam’s brother Patrick and the quarterback of the high school football team. Throughout the year, Charlie is exposed to and sometimes ingests alcohol, marijuana and LSD, and he becomes thoroughly addicted to cigarettes. Other controversial topics that arise include molestation, domestic abuse, racism and abortion. Finally, while Charlie has a very clean mouth, he occasionally quotes the profanity of others, and most of it is pretty harsh.
If my first introduction to this book was that laundry list of topics, I doubt I’d be too interested in picking it up. As it was, I won’t pretend that some of the things I read didn’t make me squirm. However, Charlie’s compassion and idealism as he observes and weathers some very difficult issues keep this from being depressing or degrading. It also was a quick read, with the 210 pages only taking me a few hours to get through. While I wouldn’t recommend this to anyone younger than high school, I wouldn’t ban it either, and considering how many teens report feeling disenfranchised, I’m sure that many would relate to Charlie’s struggles to understand his place in the world. “I think everyone is special in their own way,” Charlie tells his unknown reader late in the book. “I really do.” Maybe that’s a message that a few wallflowers who feel that they have outgrown the affirmations of Mr. Rogers could stand to hear again.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Firth, Everett and Dench Bring the Laughs in The Importance of Being Earnest (or Ernest)
What’s in a name? I’ve always found names and their meanings
fascinating, and I love the connection mine has with both Ireland and
peace. But would I still be me if I were Jane or Mary? And would other
people see me the same way?
In Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest, a name is very significant indeed. Two young ladies share the same curious fixation: they have always dreamed of marrying a man named Ernest. There’s just a certain something in the name that inspires confidence. (I stifled a giggle and forced myself to remember, as I watched the 2002 film adaptation written and directed by Oliver Parker, that this story predates Ernest P. Worrell by nearly a century.) Both of them do fall in love with Ernests, but there’s just one hitch: neither of them is actually named Ernest.
Colin Firth plays Jack, a generally decent fellow who divides his time between the country and London. But he has a secret. He takes his leave of the country by claiming to visit his brother Ernest in town, but his brother doesn’t actually exist. Instead, he takes on the name Ernest while in London. Meanwhile, his friend Algy, played by Rupert Everett, often gets out of social obligations by claiming a need to visit his nonexistent invalid friend, Bunbury, in the country.
Algy’s cousin Gwendolyn (Frances O’Connor) loves Jack, but her imperious mother, played by Judi Dench, insists upon approving him first, and she finds his shadowy family history most unsatisfactory. Dench, in the movie’s standout performance, savors each of her lines, milking them for maximum intimidation and wit. She’s a force to contend with, and matters soon become more complicated when the rather unscrupulous Algy turns up at Jack’s country estate pretending to be Ernest, leading him to instantly win the affections of impulsive daydreamer Cicely (Reese Witherspoon), Jack’s ward.
This fast-paced farce reminded me of one of my favorite M*A*S*H episodes, in which Hawkeye invents a captain by the name of Tuttle and finds it increasingly difficult to maintain the ruse of his existence. Here, we have two phony people and two real people using phony names. Naturally, keeping all that straight is just about impossible, and Firth and Everett are hilarious as the friends try to wade their way out of the mess they have made. While the film is more comical than romantic, the couples are believable, and I found the subplot about the affection between Cicely’s tutor, Miss Prism (Anna Massey), and the local rector, Dr. Chasuble (Tom Wilkinson), quite touching.
Absurd circumstances, sharp wordplay and piercing social commentary all combine to make this a very funny adaptation of a literary classic. The actors seem to relish their roles, and the direction helps the movie have contemporary appeal despite the 19th-century setting. All in all, not a bad way to get Wilde.
In Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest, a name is very significant indeed. Two young ladies share the same curious fixation: they have always dreamed of marrying a man named Ernest. There’s just a certain something in the name that inspires confidence. (I stifled a giggle and forced myself to remember, as I watched the 2002 film adaptation written and directed by Oliver Parker, that this story predates Ernest P. Worrell by nearly a century.) Both of them do fall in love with Ernests, but there’s just one hitch: neither of them is actually named Ernest.
Colin Firth plays Jack, a generally decent fellow who divides his time between the country and London. But he has a secret. He takes his leave of the country by claiming to visit his brother Ernest in town, but his brother doesn’t actually exist. Instead, he takes on the name Ernest while in London. Meanwhile, his friend Algy, played by Rupert Everett, often gets out of social obligations by claiming a need to visit his nonexistent invalid friend, Bunbury, in the country.
Algy’s cousin Gwendolyn (Frances O’Connor) loves Jack, but her imperious mother, played by Judi Dench, insists upon approving him first, and she finds his shadowy family history most unsatisfactory. Dench, in the movie’s standout performance, savors each of her lines, milking them for maximum intimidation and wit. She’s a force to contend with, and matters soon become more complicated when the rather unscrupulous Algy turns up at Jack’s country estate pretending to be Ernest, leading him to instantly win the affections of impulsive daydreamer Cicely (Reese Witherspoon), Jack’s ward.
This fast-paced farce reminded me of one of my favorite M*A*S*H episodes, in which Hawkeye invents a captain by the name of Tuttle and finds it increasingly difficult to maintain the ruse of his existence. Here, we have two phony people and two real people using phony names. Naturally, keeping all that straight is just about impossible, and Firth and Everett are hilarious as the friends try to wade their way out of the mess they have made. While the film is more comical than romantic, the couples are believable, and I found the subplot about the affection between Cicely’s tutor, Miss Prism (Anna Massey), and the local rector, Dr. Chasuble (Tom Wilkinson), quite touching.
Absurd circumstances, sharp wordplay and piercing social commentary all combine to make this a very funny adaptation of a literary classic. The actors seem to relish their roles, and the direction helps the movie have contemporary appeal despite the 19th-century setting. All in all, not a bad way to get Wilde.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Elmo's Delicious Christmas Elevates Oscar the Grouch
This is the year that Sesame Street
celebrates 40 years at the forefront of children’s programming. While
many of the characters from the first season remain well-loved today,
probably the most popular Street resident, particularly among the show’s
target audience, is latecomer Elmo. Furry, holly-red, high-pitched Elmo
is the face of Elmo’s Delicious Christmas, written by Michaela
Muntean and illustrated by Tom Leigh, and in some ways the book is about
him. But it turns into as much of a story about grungy green grouch
Oscar.
This brightly colored book, which is written in prose, starts off with Elmo helping his mom and aunt make Christmas cookies. Elmo loves being able to give them a hand, and he’s excited because this year, he’s also big enough to pass out the cookies at the big Christmas party that everyone is looking forward to. The book shows several different characters readying themselves for Christmas in a variety of ways.
Uptight Bert, jovial Ernie, naive Big Bird, unassuming Herry and the cackling Count are among those who are shown busy preparing for the holiday season. But Oscar doesn’t want anything to do with any of it. Christmas is just another disruption for him. It’s up to his neighbors to inject this Scrooge with some Christmas Spirit. Elmo is determined to find reasons for Oscar to love the holiday, and he helps the others concoct a special surprise for their friend. Like Charles Winchester in my favorite episode of M*A*S*H, Oscar finds himself uplifted by a small act of goodwill and inspired toward generosity for the less fortunate.
Elmo’s Delicious Christmas is a tasty little morsel of a book for the preschool set. Given Elmo’s popularity with the very young, perhaps it would have been a good idea to make this a board book, but the pages are reasonably sturdy as they are. Of course, in a series with so many wonderful characters, it’s a little disappointing when only a few of them make an appearance. It’s nice to see Herry in a rather prominent role, given how little he tends to be seen on the show nowadays. But what about Grover? Snuffy? Telly? What about most of the human contingent of Sesame Street? And, in a book featuring Christmas cookies on several pages, why isn’t Cookie Monster around to partake? Was he left off the guest list for fear he would obliterate the cookie supply before the party really had a chance to get going?
These small complaints aside, Elmo’s Delicious Christmas is a charming little story that urges kindness to one’s neighbors and may just inspire an afternoon of cookie-baking.
This brightly colored book, which is written in prose, starts off with Elmo helping his mom and aunt make Christmas cookies. Elmo loves being able to give them a hand, and he’s excited because this year, he’s also big enough to pass out the cookies at the big Christmas party that everyone is looking forward to. The book shows several different characters readying themselves for Christmas in a variety of ways.
Uptight Bert, jovial Ernie, naive Big Bird, unassuming Herry and the cackling Count are among those who are shown busy preparing for the holiday season. But Oscar doesn’t want anything to do with any of it. Christmas is just another disruption for him. It’s up to his neighbors to inject this Scrooge with some Christmas Spirit. Elmo is determined to find reasons for Oscar to love the holiday, and he helps the others concoct a special surprise for their friend. Like Charles Winchester in my favorite episode of M*A*S*H, Oscar finds himself uplifted by a small act of goodwill and inspired toward generosity for the less fortunate.
Elmo’s Delicious Christmas is a tasty little morsel of a book for the preschool set. Given Elmo’s popularity with the very young, perhaps it would have been a good idea to make this a board book, but the pages are reasonably sturdy as they are. Of course, in a series with so many wonderful characters, it’s a little disappointing when only a few of them make an appearance. It’s nice to see Herry in a rather prominent role, given how little he tends to be seen on the show nowadays. But what about Grover? Snuffy? Telly? What about most of the human contingent of Sesame Street? And, in a book featuring Christmas cookies on several pages, why isn’t Cookie Monster around to partake? Was he left off the guest list for fear he would obliterate the cookie supply before the party really had a chance to get going?
These small complaints aside, Elmo’s Delicious Christmas is a charming little story that urges kindness to one’s neighbors and may just inspire an afternoon of cookie-baking.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Whether You're a Pirate, a Patriot or a Bar-Hopper, Boston Is Tops
I am a Pirate Who Doesn't Do Anything,
or so I have been claiming for years. As any die-hard VeggieTales fan
will tell you, the most important criterion for being a member of this
exclusive club is that one can truthfully state, "I've never been to
Boston in the fall." This week, I veered dangerously close to
relinquishing my title, but a season stood between me and certain pirate
productivity. I have now been to Boston, but not in the fall.
The city of Boston intrigued me long before I became a VeggieTales fan. It's steeped in history and culture; the site of the Boston Tea Party and Paul Revere's Ride, the air is thick with patriotism. It's the setting of Cheers, a show I enjoyed, which gave rise to Frasier, a show I adored, and it's the hometown of Major Charles Emerson Winchester III on M*A*S*H, my favorite show of all. Then, of course, there was the Kingston Trio's harrowing tale of the man named Charlie who rode on the MTA and never returned, and the sneaking suspicion that I would never really be able to say I'd eaten clam chowder until I'd gobbled a bowl from Boston.
Yes, there's a lot to see there. And I only dipped my toe in the stream during my visit with my friends Erica and Art, who have worked in Boston and lived in the greater Boston area for two years. Nonetheless, for a short trip, I saw a great deal, starting with the moment when I got off the train and found myself studying the nearby buildings on the sidewalk above, trying to get my bearings. On our way out of town, my hosts pointed out several buildings, but what made the biggest impression was the traffic, which inched along in the aftermath of a game at Fenway Park, though every once in a while a driver got gutsy and tried to do some ill-advised passing, and now and then the guys in the next lane over, all decked out in their Red Sox regalia, bellowed something unintelligible. That was a Wednesday night. When they drove me into town on Sunday morning, the situation was entirely different, as the roads were virtually deserted, leaving me plenty of opportunity to peer out the window to drink in such sights as the college campuses where Art and Erica teach and an array of unique statues and signs. We also stopped at a coffee shop where I got a dose of the creativity of some artsy locals; on the walls were drawings for sale, and the tables themselves were works of art, each decorated with a different theme.
But the main event in terms of Boston sight-seeing occurred on Thursday, the first full day of my trip. This was when we devoted the bulk of one day to wandering around town on foot, soaking in as much as we could before the clouds looming ominously overhead burst and soaked us. Parking in Boston is expensive; we found a garage right near Faneuil Hall Market Place with day rates of $36, which was pretty typical; by comparison, the top rate at our parking garage in the heart of Salem was $12. Speaking of which, if you're in the area for a few days and plan to go to both places, I'd save most of your postcard-buying for Salem. The cheapest ones I found in Boston were 40 cents a piece, whereas in Salem they're readily available for 20 cents each, and you'll find most of the same ones. Ones that I couldn't find in Salem included Cheers postcards, available from the official gift shop, and cards featuring the statues erected in commemoration of Robert McCloskey's Make Way for Ducklings. In general, however, if you're planning to buy a big stack, you might want to hold off on all but a couple of specific designs.
Faneuil Hall is a massive shopping area reminding me of Portobello Road, described in the Disney movie Bedknobs and Broomsticks as a place containing "anything and everything a chap can unload." While there were quite a few free-floating vendors, though, most of the shopping was more stationary, with permanent storefronts for every taste. There were the traditional souvenir shops, of course; probably my favorite of these was Best of Boston, which featured a wide array of t-shirts, local confections, bells, shot glasses and anything else you might want to bring home. If you don't mind a few funny looks, I highly recommend purchasing either a crab hat or a lobster hat - or both. They run six dollars a piece and are wonderfully goofy-looking, making fun vacation photos even more memorable. Although I didn't end up buying anything at Newbury Comics - where visitors are greeted by Zoltar, that troublesome magician responsible for the transformation in Big - we probably spent more time in that store than any other, and I found about 50 things I wouldn't have minded getting. I discovered on this trip that comic book stores are my downfall. Whatever yours is, you'll no doubt find plenty of opportunities to empty out your wallet. For an idea of what to expect, you can check out www.faneuilhallmarketplace.com.
In the midst of this bustling marketplace, a distinctive sign jumps out at the casual wanderer: Cheers. This is the eatery that replicates the layout of the famous bar "where everybody knows your name." We arrived in the early afternoon and didn't have to wait to get inside. Not quite ready for lunch - and suspecting that prices at such a novelty restaurant would be steep - we opted to have a drink at the bar. Art, a connoisseur of brews, was impressed by the Samuel Adams Boston Brick Red, which the bartender told us is only available around Boston. Erica and I quenched our thirst with a couple of tasty root beers bearing the Cheers label. My 12-ounce root beer cost $2.50, which I didn't think was too exorbitant, especially since I took the bottle home as a souvenir. Scattered around the bar area as well as the gift shop are several cardboard stand-up characters just screaming "photo op!" You can cozy up to Sam, Diane, Woody and Carla, and Norm twice. I was a little disappointed that my favorite characters, Frasier and Cliff, were not anywhere to be found, but I was happy to ham it up with the rest of the gang. At the gift shop, I purchased a few mementos, including a postcard (as I recall, I only bought one because they were a dollar each) and a Cheers canteen keychain.
Erica had found a map directing us from this Cheers to the one where the exterior shots from the show were filmed, so we decided to continue our journey in that direction. All we had to do was follow the Freedom Trail, a thick red line on the sidewalk leading past several historically significant stops. As we passed numerous gregarious tour guides in 18th-century garb, we saw the State House, Old City Hall and the Granary Burying Ground, where we found the graves of Paul Revere, Samuel Adams and Ben Franklin's parents. Among the statues we saw, some of the most interesting were the monuments to the victims of the Potato Famine and the impressive statue of Ben Franklin, though my favorite series of statues commemorated Make Way for Ducklings with a mama duck trailed by eight ducklings. This creation by Nancy Schon is located in Boston Public Garden, a gorgeous park that is the site where the mallards in the book choose to raise their brood. Both before and after Erica snapped some pictures of me with the ducks, we spotted families with young children doing the same. There was even an infant small enough to perch on one of the ducklings. This seems to be a very popular attraction for youngsters. From this point, it didn't take us long to get to "Cheers", which is actually called the Bull & Finch pub. We took a few photos outside but didn't go in; while we'd only covered part of the Freedom Trail, we were tired out from our exertions, and as it started to rain before we got back to the marketplace, we decided to make for my friends' favorite Salem restaurant instead of meandering Faneuil Hall trying to decide where to eat. Technically, then, I didn't eat clam chowder in Boston, but I figure Salem is close enough. It certainly was excellent.
If you want to get an extensive Boston experience, you don't have to spend a lot of money. While there are plenty of attractions - such as the Duck Tours, which show Boston by land and by sea; the guided walking tours; and several museums - that charge admission, nothing we did cost us anything. Of course, parking is an expense for which you must plan, and I defy anybody to escape Faneuil Hall without a few souvenirs. (A word to the wise - though the wise would probably never consider this anyway: Don't bother with the lobster claw harmonica. It was sealed in plastic, so it wasn't until I got back to Erie that I discovered that I could barely get a sound out of it. Oh, well; it was only three bucks, and it will look fun on the piano...) But you don't need to participate in the expensive tourist stuff to get the most out of your trip. As for me, for a Pirate Who Doesn't Do Anything, it seems to me I did a lot.
The city of Boston intrigued me long before I became a VeggieTales fan. It's steeped in history and culture; the site of the Boston Tea Party and Paul Revere's Ride, the air is thick with patriotism. It's the setting of Cheers, a show I enjoyed, which gave rise to Frasier, a show I adored, and it's the hometown of Major Charles Emerson Winchester III on M*A*S*H, my favorite show of all. Then, of course, there was the Kingston Trio's harrowing tale of the man named Charlie who rode on the MTA and never returned, and the sneaking suspicion that I would never really be able to say I'd eaten clam chowder until I'd gobbled a bowl from Boston.
Yes, there's a lot to see there. And I only dipped my toe in the stream during my visit with my friends Erica and Art, who have worked in Boston and lived in the greater Boston area for two years. Nonetheless, for a short trip, I saw a great deal, starting with the moment when I got off the train and found myself studying the nearby buildings on the sidewalk above, trying to get my bearings. On our way out of town, my hosts pointed out several buildings, but what made the biggest impression was the traffic, which inched along in the aftermath of a game at Fenway Park, though every once in a while a driver got gutsy and tried to do some ill-advised passing, and now and then the guys in the next lane over, all decked out in their Red Sox regalia, bellowed something unintelligible. That was a Wednesday night. When they drove me into town on Sunday morning, the situation was entirely different, as the roads were virtually deserted, leaving me plenty of opportunity to peer out the window to drink in such sights as the college campuses where Art and Erica teach and an array of unique statues and signs. We also stopped at a coffee shop where I got a dose of the creativity of some artsy locals; on the walls were drawings for sale, and the tables themselves were works of art, each decorated with a different theme.
But the main event in terms of Boston sight-seeing occurred on Thursday, the first full day of my trip. This was when we devoted the bulk of one day to wandering around town on foot, soaking in as much as we could before the clouds looming ominously overhead burst and soaked us. Parking in Boston is expensive; we found a garage right near Faneuil Hall Market Place with day rates of $36, which was pretty typical; by comparison, the top rate at our parking garage in the heart of Salem was $12. Speaking of which, if you're in the area for a few days and plan to go to both places, I'd save most of your postcard-buying for Salem. The cheapest ones I found in Boston were 40 cents a piece, whereas in Salem they're readily available for 20 cents each, and you'll find most of the same ones. Ones that I couldn't find in Salem included Cheers postcards, available from the official gift shop, and cards featuring the statues erected in commemoration of Robert McCloskey's Make Way for Ducklings. In general, however, if you're planning to buy a big stack, you might want to hold off on all but a couple of specific designs.
Faneuil Hall is a massive shopping area reminding me of Portobello Road, described in the Disney movie Bedknobs and Broomsticks as a place containing "anything and everything a chap can unload." While there were quite a few free-floating vendors, though, most of the shopping was more stationary, with permanent storefronts for every taste. There were the traditional souvenir shops, of course; probably my favorite of these was Best of Boston, which featured a wide array of t-shirts, local confections, bells, shot glasses and anything else you might want to bring home. If you don't mind a few funny looks, I highly recommend purchasing either a crab hat or a lobster hat - or both. They run six dollars a piece and are wonderfully goofy-looking, making fun vacation photos even more memorable. Although I didn't end up buying anything at Newbury Comics - where visitors are greeted by Zoltar, that troublesome magician responsible for the transformation in Big - we probably spent more time in that store than any other, and I found about 50 things I wouldn't have minded getting. I discovered on this trip that comic book stores are my downfall. Whatever yours is, you'll no doubt find plenty of opportunities to empty out your wallet. For an idea of what to expect, you can check out www.faneuilhallmarketplace.com.
In the midst of this bustling marketplace, a distinctive sign jumps out at the casual wanderer: Cheers. This is the eatery that replicates the layout of the famous bar "where everybody knows your name." We arrived in the early afternoon and didn't have to wait to get inside. Not quite ready for lunch - and suspecting that prices at such a novelty restaurant would be steep - we opted to have a drink at the bar. Art, a connoisseur of brews, was impressed by the Samuel Adams Boston Brick Red, which the bartender told us is only available around Boston. Erica and I quenched our thirst with a couple of tasty root beers bearing the Cheers label. My 12-ounce root beer cost $2.50, which I didn't think was too exorbitant, especially since I took the bottle home as a souvenir. Scattered around the bar area as well as the gift shop are several cardboard stand-up characters just screaming "photo op!" You can cozy up to Sam, Diane, Woody and Carla, and Norm twice. I was a little disappointed that my favorite characters, Frasier and Cliff, were not anywhere to be found, but I was happy to ham it up with the rest of the gang. At the gift shop, I purchased a few mementos, including a postcard (as I recall, I only bought one because they were a dollar each) and a Cheers canteen keychain.
Erica had found a map directing us from this Cheers to the one where the exterior shots from the show were filmed, so we decided to continue our journey in that direction. All we had to do was follow the Freedom Trail, a thick red line on the sidewalk leading past several historically significant stops. As we passed numerous gregarious tour guides in 18th-century garb, we saw the State House, Old City Hall and the Granary Burying Ground, where we found the graves of Paul Revere, Samuel Adams and Ben Franklin's parents. Among the statues we saw, some of the most interesting were the monuments to the victims of the Potato Famine and the impressive statue of Ben Franklin, though my favorite series of statues commemorated Make Way for Ducklings with a mama duck trailed by eight ducklings. This creation by Nancy Schon is located in Boston Public Garden, a gorgeous park that is the site where the mallards in the book choose to raise their brood. Both before and after Erica snapped some pictures of me with the ducks, we spotted families with young children doing the same. There was even an infant small enough to perch on one of the ducklings. This seems to be a very popular attraction for youngsters. From this point, it didn't take us long to get to "Cheers", which is actually called the Bull & Finch pub. We took a few photos outside but didn't go in; while we'd only covered part of the Freedom Trail, we were tired out from our exertions, and as it started to rain before we got back to the marketplace, we decided to make for my friends' favorite Salem restaurant instead of meandering Faneuil Hall trying to decide where to eat. Technically, then, I didn't eat clam chowder in Boston, but I figure Salem is close enough. It certainly was excellent.
If you want to get an extensive Boston experience, you don't have to spend a lot of money. While there are plenty of attractions - such as the Duck Tours, which show Boston by land and by sea; the guided walking tours; and several museums - that charge admission, nothing we did cost us anything. Of course, parking is an expense for which you must plan, and I defy anybody to escape Faneuil Hall without a few souvenirs. (A word to the wise - though the wise would probably never consider this anyway: Don't bother with the lobster claw harmonica. It was sealed in plastic, so it wasn't until I got back to Erie that I discovered that I could barely get a sound out of it. Oh, well; it was only three bucks, and it will look fun on the piano...) But you don't need to participate in the expensive tourist stuff to get the most out of your trip. As for me, for a Pirate Who Doesn't Do Anything, it seems to me I did a lot.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Get to Know a Lighter Version of the 4077th with M*A*S*H - Season 1
I grew up on M*A*S*H. It's been one of my favorite TV shows for
as long as I can remember. It used to be in reruns almost constantly, so
I watched quite a bit of it, though I don't think it was until high
school that I got to know the first wave of M*A*S*H characters,
the folks who preceded a sort of changing of the guard midway through
the series. I had some recollection of pesky Frank Burns (Larry
Linville), who was always trying to lord his authority over pranksters
Benjamin "Hawkeye" Pierce (Alan Alda) and B. J. Hunnicut (Mike Farrell),
but then he stuck around two years longer than Henry Blake (McLean
Stevenson), the colonel initially in charge of the 4077th, and John
"Trapper" McIntyre (Wayne Rogers), Hawkeye's first partner in crime.
These were certainly characters worth getting to know.
M*A*S*H, of course, is the long-running sit-com about a group of doctors and other personnel living and working at the 4077th M*A*S*H unit in Korea during the Korean War. M*A*S*H stands for Mobile Army Surgical Hospital; they must be prepared to pick up and leave at any time, so the accommodations aren't exactly cushy. As for the medical part, the wounded come in bursts, with the distant sound of an approaching helicopter the tip-off that it's time for another marathon session in the O.R. This particular group has a remarkably high success rate with its patients. Even so, there are some who don't make it, and being surrounded by young injured soldiers takes its toll on each of the doctors, particularly star surgeon Hawkeye. He also is the camp's head jokester, as he has discovered that laughter is the only thing that can stave off despair in situations like this.
It's pretty heavy stuff for a sit-com, serious enough that I have a hard time sticking this in the same genre with the likes of The Monkees and The Brady Bunch. Nonetheless, the show is funny, more consistently entertaining than just about any show I can think of, so the comedy label is not applied inappropriately, and in its first few seasons, the focus is definitely on the lighter side of life at the 4077th. That's not to say that the darkness doesn't intrude, but there's so much silly stuff happening early on that it almost reminds me of Hogan's Heroes.
That has a lot to do with the characters featured here but not in later seasons. Frank is a sniveling stick-in-the-mud whom nearly no one respects. He's whiny and petty, easily duped and not much of a doctor. In season one, he's firmly in league with Head Nurse Margaret "Hot Lips" Houlihan (Loretta Swit), the show's only really prominent female character; the only one who comes close is Kellye Yamato (Kellye Nakahara), a nurse who's in about half the episodes but rarely in the foreground. Frank is married, but he and Margaret have a torrid affair going on. They'd like to think it's clandestine, but everyone in camp knows about it. As the series progresses, Margaret becomes much more sympathetic, but in season one, she's a shrill tattletale and a self-righteous hypocrite. When she and Frank aren't busy making each other's nostrils flare, they're plotting ways to dispose of Hawkeye and Trapper, who get away with their shenanigans in part because they're a lot more likable than Frank and Margaret, but more importantly because as surgeons, they are indispensable.
It also helps that Hawkeye and Trapper pretty much have Colonel Blake in their pocket, thanks largely to their alliance with sweet but shrewd company clerk Walter "Radar" O'Reilly (Gary Burghoff). Blake is a skilled doctor and a heck of a nice guy, but he's fairly oblivious about the intricate workings of his camp, and Radar has a knack for tricking him into signing everything from requisitions forms to permissions for leave in Seoul, everyone's favorite (well, pretty much only) vacation destination. The bespectacled young man has a strange clairvoyant streak that allows him to predict exactly what the colonel is about to tell him, and this flusters Blake so much that it makes it even easier to pull the wool over his eyes.
Blake is as different from seasoned, efficient season-four replacement Sherman Potter (Harry Morgan) as Frank is from his eventual replacement, Charles Winchester (David Ogden Stiers), who is uppity and cosseted but also a brilliant doctor and ultimately a pretty good guy underneath all of his pretension. The Trapper-Hawkeye dynamic is extremely similar to the B. J.-Hawkeye dynamic, but while B. J. is pretty clean-cut and constantly thinking about his family back home, Trapper doesn't let the fact that he's married stop him from being as shameless a philanderer as Hawkeye. He's more sarcastic than B. J., and as Hawkeye's sidekick, he lives in his shadow much more than B. J. does.
A couple of years ago, my brother bought me the first two seasons of M*A*S*H for my birthday, so whenever I watch the show, I find myself thinking of him, especially when Hawkeye, with whom he shares a first name, is on screen - which is most of the time. This frisky, wise-cracking, incredibly dedicated doctor is one of only four main characters to last the run of the series, and from the beginning, the show tends to focus on him more than anyone else. Though it's an ensemble comedy, Hawkeye is the star.
The only other major players are Max Klinger (Jamie Farr), a corporal most notable for his persistent attempts to get out of the army by convincing his superiors he's insane, and Father Francis Mulcahy (William Christopher), a humble priest who really has his hands full as the camp's chaplain. Neither is given terribly much to do in the first season, but Klinger is more noticeable because he's always parading around in stylish women's clothing. Minor recurring characters this season include African-American doctor Oliver "Spearchucker" Jones (Timothy Brown), part of Hawkeye and Trapper's posse; Australian anesthesiologist "Ugly John" Black (John Orchard) and Korean houseboy Ho-Jon (Patrick Adiarte), who Hawkeye helps send to medical school at his alma mater.
While my favorite seasons of M*A*S*H are probably four through seven, I still love the early seasons, and the first one has many stand-out moments. For instance, there are episodes with notable guest stars. Leslie Nielsen turns up as reckless Colonel Buzz Brighton in The Ringbanger; his disregard for the safety of the troops under his command is such that Hawkeye and Trapper plot to put him out of commission. Ron Howard plays underage soldier Walter Wendell in Sometimes You Hear the Bullet, the most moving episode of the season, in which Hawkeye takes one death especially hard and receives the following solemn pep talk from Blake in an unusually sage moment: "Look, all I know is what they taught me at command school. There are certain rules about a war. And rule number one is young men die. And rule number two is, doctors can't change rule number one." Although I wasn't familiar with his name, I was tickled to recognize Alex Henteloff - who had a brief but very memorable role as the scientist Scotty and Bones visit in Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home - in Dear Dad, Again, in which he plays a genius who takes on a number of careers without going through the proper certification process. This episode also includes one of the season's funniest and most cleverly shot scenes, in which Hawkeye walks across camp naked to try to prove to Trapper that no one will even notice.
Romance is always in the air at the 4077th, and two stand-out episodes revolve around unlikely pairings. In Edwina, Hawkeye is elected to go woo the lovable nurse of the title (Arlene Golonka), whose accident-prone nature has caused the men of the camp to avoid close contact with her. In Love Story, Hawkeye and Trapper help hook Radar up with an erudite new camp arrival; this is fun to watch, but what really got my attention here was the revelation that Radar had once been engaged. He's my favorite character, but I had no idea!
My two favorite episodes of the season both involve a ridiculous chain of events. In The Longjohn Flap, Hawkeye receives an extraordinarily warm set of long underwear from his father. The weather in camp is frigid, so this is a highly coveted prize, and before the episode is over, just about every major character has managed to get his or her hands on it. Watching the longjohns pass from person to person via every method from gambling to extortion is a hoot, as is Hawkeye's agonized reaction.
My other favorite is Tuttle, in which Hawkeye modestly gives credit for his charitable donation to an orphanage to a captain by the name of Tuttle. They say that no good deed goes unpunished, and Hawkeye learns this the hard way when news of this noble, nonexistent captain gets around and he, Trapper and Radar must scramble to maintain the illusion. By the time the episode ends with Hawkeye killing the captain off before the situation spirals completely out of control, everyone has grown thoroughly attached to him; indeed, both Frank and Blake are convinced that they had meaningful relationships with Tuttle. It's an audacious con, but in the end, everyone wins.
It's not vitally important to start from season one and work your way through the series in the proper order. But if you want the real scope of M*A*S*H as a show, you'll want to start off here. It isn't the best of the seasons, but it's a wonderful introduction to one of the finest television shows ever created.
M*A*S*H, of course, is the long-running sit-com about a group of doctors and other personnel living and working at the 4077th M*A*S*H unit in Korea during the Korean War. M*A*S*H stands for Mobile Army Surgical Hospital; they must be prepared to pick up and leave at any time, so the accommodations aren't exactly cushy. As for the medical part, the wounded come in bursts, with the distant sound of an approaching helicopter the tip-off that it's time for another marathon session in the O.R. This particular group has a remarkably high success rate with its patients. Even so, there are some who don't make it, and being surrounded by young injured soldiers takes its toll on each of the doctors, particularly star surgeon Hawkeye. He also is the camp's head jokester, as he has discovered that laughter is the only thing that can stave off despair in situations like this.
It's pretty heavy stuff for a sit-com, serious enough that I have a hard time sticking this in the same genre with the likes of The Monkees and The Brady Bunch. Nonetheless, the show is funny, more consistently entertaining than just about any show I can think of, so the comedy label is not applied inappropriately, and in its first few seasons, the focus is definitely on the lighter side of life at the 4077th. That's not to say that the darkness doesn't intrude, but there's so much silly stuff happening early on that it almost reminds me of Hogan's Heroes.
That has a lot to do with the characters featured here but not in later seasons. Frank is a sniveling stick-in-the-mud whom nearly no one respects. He's whiny and petty, easily duped and not much of a doctor. In season one, he's firmly in league with Head Nurse Margaret "Hot Lips" Houlihan (Loretta Swit), the show's only really prominent female character; the only one who comes close is Kellye Yamato (Kellye Nakahara), a nurse who's in about half the episodes but rarely in the foreground. Frank is married, but he and Margaret have a torrid affair going on. They'd like to think it's clandestine, but everyone in camp knows about it. As the series progresses, Margaret becomes much more sympathetic, but in season one, she's a shrill tattletale and a self-righteous hypocrite. When she and Frank aren't busy making each other's nostrils flare, they're plotting ways to dispose of Hawkeye and Trapper, who get away with their shenanigans in part because they're a lot more likable than Frank and Margaret, but more importantly because as surgeons, they are indispensable.
It also helps that Hawkeye and Trapper pretty much have Colonel Blake in their pocket, thanks largely to their alliance with sweet but shrewd company clerk Walter "Radar" O'Reilly (Gary Burghoff). Blake is a skilled doctor and a heck of a nice guy, but he's fairly oblivious about the intricate workings of his camp, and Radar has a knack for tricking him into signing everything from requisitions forms to permissions for leave in Seoul, everyone's favorite (well, pretty much only) vacation destination. The bespectacled young man has a strange clairvoyant streak that allows him to predict exactly what the colonel is about to tell him, and this flusters Blake so much that it makes it even easier to pull the wool over his eyes.
Blake is as different from seasoned, efficient season-four replacement Sherman Potter (Harry Morgan) as Frank is from his eventual replacement, Charles Winchester (David Ogden Stiers), who is uppity and cosseted but also a brilliant doctor and ultimately a pretty good guy underneath all of his pretension. The Trapper-Hawkeye dynamic is extremely similar to the B. J.-Hawkeye dynamic, but while B. J. is pretty clean-cut and constantly thinking about his family back home, Trapper doesn't let the fact that he's married stop him from being as shameless a philanderer as Hawkeye. He's more sarcastic than B. J., and as Hawkeye's sidekick, he lives in his shadow much more than B. J. does.
A couple of years ago, my brother bought me the first two seasons of M*A*S*H for my birthday, so whenever I watch the show, I find myself thinking of him, especially when Hawkeye, with whom he shares a first name, is on screen - which is most of the time. This frisky, wise-cracking, incredibly dedicated doctor is one of only four main characters to last the run of the series, and from the beginning, the show tends to focus on him more than anyone else. Though it's an ensemble comedy, Hawkeye is the star.
The only other major players are Max Klinger (Jamie Farr), a corporal most notable for his persistent attempts to get out of the army by convincing his superiors he's insane, and Father Francis Mulcahy (William Christopher), a humble priest who really has his hands full as the camp's chaplain. Neither is given terribly much to do in the first season, but Klinger is more noticeable because he's always parading around in stylish women's clothing. Minor recurring characters this season include African-American doctor Oliver "Spearchucker" Jones (Timothy Brown), part of Hawkeye and Trapper's posse; Australian anesthesiologist "Ugly John" Black (John Orchard) and Korean houseboy Ho-Jon (Patrick Adiarte), who Hawkeye helps send to medical school at his alma mater.
While my favorite seasons of M*A*S*H are probably four through seven, I still love the early seasons, and the first one has many stand-out moments. For instance, there are episodes with notable guest stars. Leslie Nielsen turns up as reckless Colonel Buzz Brighton in The Ringbanger; his disregard for the safety of the troops under his command is such that Hawkeye and Trapper plot to put him out of commission. Ron Howard plays underage soldier Walter Wendell in Sometimes You Hear the Bullet, the most moving episode of the season, in which Hawkeye takes one death especially hard and receives the following solemn pep talk from Blake in an unusually sage moment: "Look, all I know is what they taught me at command school. There are certain rules about a war. And rule number one is young men die. And rule number two is, doctors can't change rule number one." Although I wasn't familiar with his name, I was tickled to recognize Alex Henteloff - who had a brief but very memorable role as the scientist Scotty and Bones visit in Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home - in Dear Dad, Again, in which he plays a genius who takes on a number of careers without going through the proper certification process. This episode also includes one of the season's funniest and most cleverly shot scenes, in which Hawkeye walks across camp naked to try to prove to Trapper that no one will even notice.
Romance is always in the air at the 4077th, and two stand-out episodes revolve around unlikely pairings. In Edwina, Hawkeye is elected to go woo the lovable nurse of the title (Arlene Golonka), whose accident-prone nature has caused the men of the camp to avoid close contact with her. In Love Story, Hawkeye and Trapper help hook Radar up with an erudite new camp arrival; this is fun to watch, but what really got my attention here was the revelation that Radar had once been engaged. He's my favorite character, but I had no idea!
My two favorite episodes of the season both involve a ridiculous chain of events. In The Longjohn Flap, Hawkeye receives an extraordinarily warm set of long underwear from his father. The weather in camp is frigid, so this is a highly coveted prize, and before the episode is over, just about every major character has managed to get his or her hands on it. Watching the longjohns pass from person to person via every method from gambling to extortion is a hoot, as is Hawkeye's agonized reaction.
My other favorite is Tuttle, in which Hawkeye modestly gives credit for his charitable donation to an orphanage to a captain by the name of Tuttle. They say that no good deed goes unpunished, and Hawkeye learns this the hard way when news of this noble, nonexistent captain gets around and he, Trapper and Radar must scramble to maintain the illusion. By the time the episode ends with Hawkeye killing the captain off before the situation spirals completely out of control, everyone has grown thoroughly attached to him; indeed, both Frank and Blake are convinced that they had meaningful relationships with Tuttle. It's an audacious con, but in the end, everyone wins.
It's not vitally important to start from season one and work your way through the series in the proper order. But if you want the real scope of M*A*S*H as a show, you'll want to start off here. It isn't the best of the seasons, but it's a wonderful introduction to one of the finest television shows ever created.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Charles Dickens Might Want to Haunt the Makers of Ghosts of Girlfriends Past...
There are few stories that have affected me as deeply as A Christmas Carol,
the Charles Dickens classic that was one of the first to introduce to
me the idea of a villain finding redemption. I've seen oodles of
adaptations, and most have been very agreeable, with the Muppet version and the George C. Scott version taking top honors. I've now found one to occupy the bottom of the barrel: Ghosts of Girlfriends Past, written by Jon Lucas and Scott Moore and directed by Mark Waters.
This movie is a mild PG-13, but in some ways it's raunchier than many R-rated comedies. It takes the basic plot of A Christmas Carol but makes the pressing issue not miserly greed and outright misanthropy but insatiable lust and veiled misogyny. Connor Mead, played by Matthew McConaughey, is our Ebenezer Scrooge of sorts, a bachelor who makes a living taking shots of scantily clad women for famous magazines. His conquests seem to loathe him and desire him all at once; not a single female, it appears, is immune to his charms, but when they get together, these ladies have plenty of venom to spill about his callous nature.
While Ebenezer is deliciously acidic, spouting off pithy zingers with the force of a 19th-century Simon Cowell, Connor never has anything particularly eloquent to say. He's just thoroughly obnoxious, though the lechery that condemns him is overshadowed somewhat by the fact that very nearly every other character in the movie is absurdly oversexed. The movie centers around the wedding of Connor's younger brother Paul (Breckin Meyer), who, as Bob and Fred rolled into one, is far more likable than most but still guilty of cheating on his fiancee before they were engaged. If there's a "Tiny Tim" of the movie, it would be his impending marriage, the state of which becomes increasingly fragile from the moment Connor turns up, to the shock of most, for Best Man duty.
Filling the role of Jacob Marley is Wayne, the swingin' uncle who taught Connor everything he knows. Wayne has a much larger role in the film than Marley generally does; we see him playing a pivotal role in flashbacks, and his ghost turns up frequently throughout the film to talk things over with Connor. Michael Douglas plays Wayne as comically despicable, with his affection for his nephew his only really redeeming feature. Even once Connor has learned the lesson Wayne strove to teach him, his deceased uncle is still up to his old tricks, prowling the afterlife for Connor's cast-offs. Those would be the three ghosts - except two of them are clearly not dead, while the other takes the form of a braces-laden teenager, making Wayne's pursuit especially creepy.
As usual, the ghost of the past is the one with the most screen time. It would be nice, then, if she weren't so irritating. Granted, this character is usually a bit of a nag, but in this case, she also appears to be slightly deranged, making her commentary hard to take after a few moments. Luckily, Connor's one true love is much more tolerable. Her name is Jenny, and she is played by Jennifer Garner, which is part of the reason this aspect of the story reminds me of the far superior 13 Going on 30; another is that the teenage version of Jenny is played by Christa B. Allen, who also played the younger version of Garner's character in 13 Going on 30. (I also got a hint of LOST, with pre-adolescent Jenny, like Ben-loving Dharmaville dweller Annie, giving a birthday gift while on the swing set that the recipient still cherishes years later.) In both films, a boy and girl grow up best friends, but a longing for the popular crowd sweeps the girl away. In 13 Going on 30, the girl turns her back on the boy, while he moves on, broken-hearted but still true to himself. In this movie, Jenny never has the chance to make a long-term, conscious decision like that, since at the first whiff of heartache, Connor gets whisked off for indoctrination into his uncle's intensive school of Love 'Em and Leave 'Em. As an adult, she's bitter but otherwise nice enough, while he's the one with major personality defects. The movies wind up in a pretty similar place, but between sullying a beloved classic and making us put up with all sorts of saucy shenanigans, The Ghosts of Girlfriends Past doesn't earn a genuine desire for a happy ending.
McConaughey is an actor who seemed to teeter between endearing and insufferable. In We Are Marshall, the former characteristic was on display, but here, it's definitely the latter. Certain scenes with the lovelorn Jenny and the sweet - but never Bob Cratchit-force - Paul, whose high-strung but devoted fiancee Sandra (Lacey Chabert) is much like Mrs. Cratchit, make him tolerable, but it's too little too late. While those who love A Christmas Carol will have fun pointing out parallels (and M*A*S*H fans should keep an ear out for references to that show courtesy of Sandra's dad, Sergeant Volkom (Robert Forster), a gung-ho Korean War veteran), they might also want to listen for the distant but unmistakable sound of Charles Dickens rolling over in his grave.
This movie is a mild PG-13, but in some ways it's raunchier than many R-rated comedies. It takes the basic plot of A Christmas Carol but makes the pressing issue not miserly greed and outright misanthropy but insatiable lust and veiled misogyny. Connor Mead, played by Matthew McConaughey, is our Ebenezer Scrooge of sorts, a bachelor who makes a living taking shots of scantily clad women for famous magazines. His conquests seem to loathe him and desire him all at once; not a single female, it appears, is immune to his charms, but when they get together, these ladies have plenty of venom to spill about his callous nature.
While Ebenezer is deliciously acidic, spouting off pithy zingers with the force of a 19th-century Simon Cowell, Connor never has anything particularly eloquent to say. He's just thoroughly obnoxious, though the lechery that condemns him is overshadowed somewhat by the fact that very nearly every other character in the movie is absurdly oversexed. The movie centers around the wedding of Connor's younger brother Paul (Breckin Meyer), who, as Bob and Fred rolled into one, is far more likable than most but still guilty of cheating on his fiancee before they were engaged. If there's a "Tiny Tim" of the movie, it would be his impending marriage, the state of which becomes increasingly fragile from the moment Connor turns up, to the shock of most, for Best Man duty.
Filling the role of Jacob Marley is Wayne, the swingin' uncle who taught Connor everything he knows. Wayne has a much larger role in the film than Marley generally does; we see him playing a pivotal role in flashbacks, and his ghost turns up frequently throughout the film to talk things over with Connor. Michael Douglas plays Wayne as comically despicable, with his affection for his nephew his only really redeeming feature. Even once Connor has learned the lesson Wayne strove to teach him, his deceased uncle is still up to his old tricks, prowling the afterlife for Connor's cast-offs. Those would be the three ghosts - except two of them are clearly not dead, while the other takes the form of a braces-laden teenager, making Wayne's pursuit especially creepy.
As usual, the ghost of the past is the one with the most screen time. It would be nice, then, if she weren't so irritating. Granted, this character is usually a bit of a nag, but in this case, she also appears to be slightly deranged, making her commentary hard to take after a few moments. Luckily, Connor's one true love is much more tolerable. Her name is Jenny, and she is played by Jennifer Garner, which is part of the reason this aspect of the story reminds me of the far superior 13 Going on 30; another is that the teenage version of Jenny is played by Christa B. Allen, who also played the younger version of Garner's character in 13 Going on 30. (I also got a hint of LOST, with pre-adolescent Jenny, like Ben-loving Dharmaville dweller Annie, giving a birthday gift while on the swing set that the recipient still cherishes years later.) In both films, a boy and girl grow up best friends, but a longing for the popular crowd sweeps the girl away. In 13 Going on 30, the girl turns her back on the boy, while he moves on, broken-hearted but still true to himself. In this movie, Jenny never has the chance to make a long-term, conscious decision like that, since at the first whiff of heartache, Connor gets whisked off for indoctrination into his uncle's intensive school of Love 'Em and Leave 'Em. As an adult, she's bitter but otherwise nice enough, while he's the one with major personality defects. The movies wind up in a pretty similar place, but between sullying a beloved classic and making us put up with all sorts of saucy shenanigans, The Ghosts of Girlfriends Past doesn't earn a genuine desire for a happy ending.
McConaughey is an actor who seemed to teeter between endearing and insufferable. In We Are Marshall, the former characteristic was on display, but here, it's definitely the latter. Certain scenes with the lovelorn Jenny and the sweet - but never Bob Cratchit-force - Paul, whose high-strung but devoted fiancee Sandra (Lacey Chabert) is much like Mrs. Cratchit, make him tolerable, but it's too little too late. While those who love A Christmas Carol will have fun pointing out parallels (and M*A*S*H fans should keep an ear out for references to that show courtesy of Sandra's dad, Sergeant Volkom (Robert Forster), a gung-ho Korean War veteran), they might also want to listen for the distant but unmistakable sound of Charles Dickens rolling over in his grave.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
The Office Starts Out Strong and Leaves This M*A*S*H Fan Smiling
For some time now, I've been bemoaning the lack of decent sit-coms on the air. The Simpsons
is still consistently funny, but it's also been on the air for twenty
years. A couple months ago, I would have said that the only recent
sit-coms that really tickle my funny bone are Everybody Hates Chris and Flight of the Conchords,
neither of which is on one of the major networks. Happily, I've now
found another sit-com that is genuinely funny. I've been aware of The Office
ever since it came out, but the snatches I caught of it didn't reel me
in, and I wasn't so sure a corporate comedy was my kind of show. But my
brother received the first four seasons on DVD for Christmas, so
immersion was inevitable. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it.
The Office was originally a Brit-com, and like most, it had short seasons. I don't know if the mere six episodes in the American version are an intentional reflection of that or if the show just happened to start when the season was almost over, but it makes getting through the first season incredibly easy. I watched all six episodes in one sitting; it only takes about two hours, closer to three if you watch all of the deleted scenes (which I recommend). It's the perfect way to plunge into the show, and the DVD doesn't cost any more than a typical movie.
The Office follows the day to day business of the Scranton, Pennsylvania branch of a paper company called Dunder Mifflin. Mostly, it's funny business; rarely do we see these people actually working. My first impression of The Office was that it mirrors the comic strip Dilbert, with a bunch of people stuck in meaningless jobs who, on the rare occasion that they actually have an opportunity to accomplish something, are invariably thwarted by their brainless boss. Cult classic Office Space also comes to mind. What I didn't expect was that I would find myself drawing comparisons to my all-time favorite sit-com, M*A*S*H.
In M*A*S*H, the residents of the 4077th use laughter as a means of dealing with the horrors of war. Their problem is not a lack of purpose; they do incredibly important work but wish they didn't have to. In The Office, laughter combats utter tedium, which can, in its own way, be almost as soul-crushing as a war zone. Both shows poke fun at corporate red tape; I even have a Valentine's Day card which has company clerk Radar saying, "I have the forms to order the forms to apply to be your Valentine." Forms are always flying around at Dunder Mifflin, and usually they seem pretty ridiculous.
What's even more ridiculous, however, is the way boss Michael Scott (Steve Carell) reacts to them. He goes to absurd lengths to avoid them, and it falls to his underlings to force him to pay attention to these mind-numbing tasks. Michael reminds me very much of Colonel Henry Blake, the leader of the 4077th during the show's early years, which tended to be more silly than somber. While Blake is a perfectly competent surgeon, he's pretty hopeless as a leader, and his laid-back attitude makes it all the easier for troublemakers like Hawkeye and Trapper to pull the wool over his eyes as they engage in their shenanigans. Like him, Michael has enough skill in one particular area - sales - that his rise to management doesn't seem wholly implausible. He is a kind, decent man who is so determined to have his employees' friendship that he has a hard time commanding their respect. Unlike the colonel, he's always undermining his branch's productivity by interrupting his workers with pointless activities and awkward attempts at humor. Michael, as likable as he is, has an astonishing lack of understanding when it comes to appropriate conduct and terminology, and he has a habit of offending the very people to whom he tries to endear himself. He's more off-the-wall than Colonel Blake, the sort of guy who seems too ludicrous to be real, but Carell has the comedic chops to keep us laughing our heads off instead spending all of our time wondering why this guy is still in charge.
Just as M*A*S*H has Hawkeye and Trapper serving as the resident practical jokers, The Office has salesman Jim Halpert (John Krasinski) and receptionist Pam Beesly (Jenna Fischer), who are practically inseparable during this season and always cooking up new schemes with which to aggravate Dwight Schrute (Rainn Wilson), whose rigid, antagonistic streak is reminiscent of weasely Frank, Hawkeye's preferred target. Dwight, like Frank, aspires to a loftier position and is always trying to assign more power to his role than he has actually been given. His quirks are even more bizarre than Michael's, and Wilson's deadpan delivery of consistently outlandish lines makes Dwight the character most likely to cause me to squirt milk out of my nose.
These four are the most important characters in an office full of unique individuals. There's Angela Martin (Angela Kinsey), whose uptight attempts to exert control over her fellow office-dwellers recall Margaret Houlihan. The comparison is even more striking in the second season when she embarks upon a covert relationship with Dwight. Wunderkind temp Ryan Howard (B. J. Novak), like boyish Radar, is more competent than his boss - though he's nowhere near as lovable as Radar is. Sturdy saleslady Phyllis Lapin (Phyllis Smith), like the Chinese-Hawaiian Nurse Kellye, is a quiet positive force in the office, a kind woman who's always there but rarely gets noticed. I could probably continue, but you get the idea.
Do I think The Office consciously borrows from M*A*S*H? Probably not. But if this mockumentary, which develops its characters as often through their asides to the camera as through the scenes carrying the action (a device M*A*S*H uses on occasion), inspires such reflections from me, it's because I find it worthy of the comparison. I should have given The Office a shot sooner. Now, if I could just convince Alan Alda to put in a guest appearance...
The Office was originally a Brit-com, and like most, it had short seasons. I don't know if the mere six episodes in the American version are an intentional reflection of that or if the show just happened to start when the season was almost over, but it makes getting through the first season incredibly easy. I watched all six episodes in one sitting; it only takes about two hours, closer to three if you watch all of the deleted scenes (which I recommend). It's the perfect way to plunge into the show, and the DVD doesn't cost any more than a typical movie.
The Office follows the day to day business of the Scranton, Pennsylvania branch of a paper company called Dunder Mifflin. Mostly, it's funny business; rarely do we see these people actually working. My first impression of The Office was that it mirrors the comic strip Dilbert, with a bunch of people stuck in meaningless jobs who, on the rare occasion that they actually have an opportunity to accomplish something, are invariably thwarted by their brainless boss. Cult classic Office Space also comes to mind. What I didn't expect was that I would find myself drawing comparisons to my all-time favorite sit-com, M*A*S*H.
In M*A*S*H, the residents of the 4077th use laughter as a means of dealing with the horrors of war. Their problem is not a lack of purpose; they do incredibly important work but wish they didn't have to. In The Office, laughter combats utter tedium, which can, in its own way, be almost as soul-crushing as a war zone. Both shows poke fun at corporate red tape; I even have a Valentine's Day card which has company clerk Radar saying, "I have the forms to order the forms to apply to be your Valentine." Forms are always flying around at Dunder Mifflin, and usually they seem pretty ridiculous.
What's even more ridiculous, however, is the way boss Michael Scott (Steve Carell) reacts to them. He goes to absurd lengths to avoid them, and it falls to his underlings to force him to pay attention to these mind-numbing tasks. Michael reminds me very much of Colonel Henry Blake, the leader of the 4077th during the show's early years, which tended to be more silly than somber. While Blake is a perfectly competent surgeon, he's pretty hopeless as a leader, and his laid-back attitude makes it all the easier for troublemakers like Hawkeye and Trapper to pull the wool over his eyes as they engage in their shenanigans. Like him, Michael has enough skill in one particular area - sales - that his rise to management doesn't seem wholly implausible. He is a kind, decent man who is so determined to have his employees' friendship that he has a hard time commanding their respect. Unlike the colonel, he's always undermining his branch's productivity by interrupting his workers with pointless activities and awkward attempts at humor. Michael, as likable as he is, has an astonishing lack of understanding when it comes to appropriate conduct and terminology, and he has a habit of offending the very people to whom he tries to endear himself. He's more off-the-wall than Colonel Blake, the sort of guy who seems too ludicrous to be real, but Carell has the comedic chops to keep us laughing our heads off instead spending all of our time wondering why this guy is still in charge.
Just as M*A*S*H has Hawkeye and Trapper serving as the resident practical jokers, The Office has salesman Jim Halpert (John Krasinski) and receptionist Pam Beesly (Jenna Fischer), who are practically inseparable during this season and always cooking up new schemes with which to aggravate Dwight Schrute (Rainn Wilson), whose rigid, antagonistic streak is reminiscent of weasely Frank, Hawkeye's preferred target. Dwight, like Frank, aspires to a loftier position and is always trying to assign more power to his role than he has actually been given. His quirks are even more bizarre than Michael's, and Wilson's deadpan delivery of consistently outlandish lines makes Dwight the character most likely to cause me to squirt milk out of my nose.
These four are the most important characters in an office full of unique individuals. There's Angela Martin (Angela Kinsey), whose uptight attempts to exert control over her fellow office-dwellers recall Margaret Houlihan. The comparison is even more striking in the second season when she embarks upon a covert relationship with Dwight. Wunderkind temp Ryan Howard (B. J. Novak), like boyish Radar, is more competent than his boss - though he's nowhere near as lovable as Radar is. Sturdy saleslady Phyllis Lapin (Phyllis Smith), like the Chinese-Hawaiian Nurse Kellye, is a quiet positive force in the office, a kind woman who's always there but rarely gets noticed. I could probably continue, but you get the idea.
Do I think The Office consciously borrows from M*A*S*H? Probably not. But if this mockumentary, which develops its characters as often through their asides to the camera as through the scenes carrying the action (a device M*A*S*H uses on occasion), inspires such reflections from me, it's because I find it worthy of the comparison. I should have given The Office a shot sooner. Now, if I could just convince Alan Alda to put in a guest appearance...
Friday, February 16, 2001
Love Conquers All
When I was a senior in high school, I recall many of my teachers
referencing this movie and suggesting that all of us see it. The
chaperones on my February trip to the Holocaust Memorial in Washington,
D.C., were especially emphatic in their praise of this film. I am
surprised, actually, that it took me this long to see it. But see it I
finally did. Last weekend my mom decided that we should rent it, telling
me that she had been wanting to see it for quite some time. I expected
that we would be watching a subtitled version; much to my surprise, it
was dubbed. But while others have noted that they soon got past the
distraction of the subtitles, I soon got past the distraction of the
lips not being entirely consistent with the sounds which they produced.
By the time we got to the video store, it was 11:00 p.m. I had been assuming all along that my 12-year-old brother would go elsewhere while we were watching the movie; now, given the time, I figured he would just go to bed. I honestly didn't think the film would hold any interest for him. I was wrong. The three of us stayed up until after 1:00 on a Saturday night to watch Life is Beautiful, and none of us had any trouble staying awake for the duration.
The movie stars Roberto Begnini as Guido, a vibrant, comical fellow who wins the heart of the audience from the beginning. An Italian Jew, Guido wishes to open a bookshop but is forced to begin his life in the new town he has come to as a waiter in the Grand Hotel under the employment of his Uncle Leo. In a memorable scene, he engages in a hobbit-esque riddle contest with Dr. Lessing, a German physician for whom solving riddles is an obsession. Remember this man, for he will reappear at a crucial point towards the end of the film. So intent is the good doctor on his riddles that he refuses to eat. When an unexpected -- and very rich -- customer arrives, Guido must rush to bring him a satisfactory dinner despite the fact that the kitchen has all but ceased operation for the night. His solution is simple but brilliant and sets the stage for his next trick.
The first hour of the movie is a light comedy concerned with Guido's pursuit of Dora (Nicoletta Braschi), a young schoolteacher who he keeps capriciously running into (quite literally) in a number of hilarious instances. Unfortunately, his "principessa" is soon to be married to a boorish upper-class fascist who is every bit as despicable as Rose's fiance in Titanic. Not only is she engaged, she is Catholic. But Guido manages to convince her of his piety by invoking Mary several times, each with immediate gratification. His wit, charm, and tenacity soon win her over, and he sweeps her away from her engagement party on a green Jewish horse (so marked by the fascists, hinting at the trouble soon to come).
We rejoin Dora and Guido about five years later, now happily married with an adorable son, Joshua (Giorgio Cantarini). Guido finally has his bookstore, and the little family is thriving despite the increasing signs of prejudice against Jews. Guido side-steps the issue comically with his son, foreshadowing his tactics during the darker portion of the film. When Joshua asks why a certain store has a sign reading "No dogs or Jews," Guido replies that all store owners have signs like that. He goes on to describe an instance in which his Chinese friend with a pet kangaroo was denied entrance to a store because of such a sign (reading, of course, "no kangaroos or Chinese"). He promises Joshua that they will put one up as well, and the boy demands that spiders be the outlawed animals.
The day of Joshua's birthday arrives, and the family has a grand party planned for him. Dora's mother will be attending; she has been absent from her grandson's life up until this point. Before the party, Joshua puts up a valiant fight to avoid bathing before his party. His aversion to baths and showers will play an important role in a later scene which is both frightening and entertaining. The joyous day is cut short when Dora goes to pick up her mother and returns to find the house a shambles. Guido and Joshua have been taken.
At this point I urged Nathan to go to bed. I didn't think he would be able to handle the concentrations camp, particularly right before bed. He was setting himself up for horrible nightmares. But he insisted on staying. And so the movie transitioned as Dora, unable to convince the train station guard to release Guido, Joshua, and Uncle Leo, demands to board the train that is taking her family to the concentration camp. Joshua is pleased, because Guido has already told him that this abrupt journey is a surprise for his birthday. Upon arriving at the camp, Joshua expresses his distaste for the train ride; Guido agrees with his disappointment and promises that they will take a bus on the ride home.
Guido and Joshua are able to stay together, but Uncle Leo and Dora are taken to different parts of the camp. "They're on other teams," Guido explains. He tells his son that this is all a great big game and that the winner will receive a real tank. When they arrive in the barracks, he translates the rules of the camp for the company -- except that he doesn't know German, and he makes it up as he goes along, creating the rules of the game which Joshua must play. Whenever Joshua expresses doubt as to the way the game is going, Guido restores his faith, and he assures his son that the children who are telling him the truth about the camps are really just trying to throw him off and win the tank for themselves.
Despite the hard labor he must perform all day and the heavy foreboding that is weighing him down, Guido puts all his energy into protecting his son's innocence and keeping his faith alive. At the same time, he find ways to let his wife know that he is still alive and thinking about her. The manner in which he accomplishes these tasks is often just short of miraculous, and my brother noted that "he can't keep this up forever". If a date had been mentioned previously in the movie, I missed it; I had no idea how far along the war was. I told Nathan that maybe the camps were on the verge of being liberated. Relief flooded through me when this turned out to be the case.
But the horror was not over yet. The final hours before the liberation of the camp are the most terrifying yet, and circumstances are about to test how far a man's love for his family can go. I won't reveal the ending except to say that it is bittersweet. No movie about the Holocaust can end happily; far too many lives were ruined for that. But they can end hopefully, and this one does.
Life is Beautiful is a hilarious comedy, a riveting drama, a frightening look into one of the most horrifying events in history. But most of all, it is a love story. A story of a man's love for his wife, his love for his son, his love for life. A story of the power of love to triumph over the direst of circumstances. A story more than deserving of the praise which was heaped upon it.
I was shocked to discover that my mom had not known anything about the movie except its language of origin previous to watching it. She'd only heard that it was a wonderful film. The horrors of the camp hit her very hard. Nathan, meanwhile, was left feeling optimistic after the film's final resolution. Both agreed that it was a wonderful movie; I certainly concurred.
As for the contention that a comedy about the Holocaust makes light of the suffering there, I feel compelled to quote Hawkeye Pierce, M*A*S*H's famous comic. When asked how he could always be making jokes while spending his days amidst the bloody aftermath of battle, he replied, "It's the only way I can open my mouth without screaming." The Holocaust was a terrible chapter in world history. As such, it is the ideal backdrop for a film which attempts to prove that hope springs eternal and sometimes laughter really is the best medicine.
By the time we got to the video store, it was 11:00 p.m. I had been assuming all along that my 12-year-old brother would go elsewhere while we were watching the movie; now, given the time, I figured he would just go to bed. I honestly didn't think the film would hold any interest for him. I was wrong. The three of us stayed up until after 1:00 on a Saturday night to watch Life is Beautiful, and none of us had any trouble staying awake for the duration.
The movie stars Roberto Begnini as Guido, a vibrant, comical fellow who wins the heart of the audience from the beginning. An Italian Jew, Guido wishes to open a bookshop but is forced to begin his life in the new town he has come to as a waiter in the Grand Hotel under the employment of his Uncle Leo. In a memorable scene, he engages in a hobbit-esque riddle contest with Dr. Lessing, a German physician for whom solving riddles is an obsession. Remember this man, for he will reappear at a crucial point towards the end of the film. So intent is the good doctor on his riddles that he refuses to eat. When an unexpected -- and very rich -- customer arrives, Guido must rush to bring him a satisfactory dinner despite the fact that the kitchen has all but ceased operation for the night. His solution is simple but brilliant and sets the stage for his next trick.
The first hour of the movie is a light comedy concerned with Guido's pursuit of Dora (Nicoletta Braschi), a young schoolteacher who he keeps capriciously running into (quite literally) in a number of hilarious instances. Unfortunately, his "principessa" is soon to be married to a boorish upper-class fascist who is every bit as despicable as Rose's fiance in Titanic. Not only is she engaged, she is Catholic. But Guido manages to convince her of his piety by invoking Mary several times, each with immediate gratification. His wit, charm, and tenacity soon win her over, and he sweeps her away from her engagement party on a green Jewish horse (so marked by the fascists, hinting at the trouble soon to come).
We rejoin Dora and Guido about five years later, now happily married with an adorable son, Joshua (Giorgio Cantarini). Guido finally has his bookstore, and the little family is thriving despite the increasing signs of prejudice against Jews. Guido side-steps the issue comically with his son, foreshadowing his tactics during the darker portion of the film. When Joshua asks why a certain store has a sign reading "No dogs or Jews," Guido replies that all store owners have signs like that. He goes on to describe an instance in which his Chinese friend with a pet kangaroo was denied entrance to a store because of such a sign (reading, of course, "no kangaroos or Chinese"). He promises Joshua that they will put one up as well, and the boy demands that spiders be the outlawed animals.
The day of Joshua's birthday arrives, and the family has a grand party planned for him. Dora's mother will be attending; she has been absent from her grandson's life up until this point. Before the party, Joshua puts up a valiant fight to avoid bathing before his party. His aversion to baths and showers will play an important role in a later scene which is both frightening and entertaining. The joyous day is cut short when Dora goes to pick up her mother and returns to find the house a shambles. Guido and Joshua have been taken.
At this point I urged Nathan to go to bed. I didn't think he would be able to handle the concentrations camp, particularly right before bed. He was setting himself up for horrible nightmares. But he insisted on staying. And so the movie transitioned as Dora, unable to convince the train station guard to release Guido, Joshua, and Uncle Leo, demands to board the train that is taking her family to the concentration camp. Joshua is pleased, because Guido has already told him that this abrupt journey is a surprise for his birthday. Upon arriving at the camp, Joshua expresses his distaste for the train ride; Guido agrees with his disappointment and promises that they will take a bus on the ride home.
Guido and Joshua are able to stay together, but Uncle Leo and Dora are taken to different parts of the camp. "They're on other teams," Guido explains. He tells his son that this is all a great big game and that the winner will receive a real tank. When they arrive in the barracks, he translates the rules of the camp for the company -- except that he doesn't know German, and he makes it up as he goes along, creating the rules of the game which Joshua must play. Whenever Joshua expresses doubt as to the way the game is going, Guido restores his faith, and he assures his son that the children who are telling him the truth about the camps are really just trying to throw him off and win the tank for themselves.
Despite the hard labor he must perform all day and the heavy foreboding that is weighing him down, Guido puts all his energy into protecting his son's innocence and keeping his faith alive. At the same time, he find ways to let his wife know that he is still alive and thinking about her. The manner in which he accomplishes these tasks is often just short of miraculous, and my brother noted that "he can't keep this up forever". If a date had been mentioned previously in the movie, I missed it; I had no idea how far along the war was. I told Nathan that maybe the camps were on the verge of being liberated. Relief flooded through me when this turned out to be the case.
But the horror was not over yet. The final hours before the liberation of the camp are the most terrifying yet, and circumstances are about to test how far a man's love for his family can go. I won't reveal the ending except to say that it is bittersweet. No movie about the Holocaust can end happily; far too many lives were ruined for that. But they can end hopefully, and this one does.
Life is Beautiful is a hilarious comedy, a riveting drama, a frightening look into one of the most horrifying events in history. But most of all, it is a love story. A story of a man's love for his wife, his love for his son, his love for life. A story of the power of love to triumph over the direst of circumstances. A story more than deserving of the praise which was heaped upon it.
I was shocked to discover that my mom had not known anything about the movie except its language of origin previous to watching it. She'd only heard that it was a wonderful film. The horrors of the camp hit her very hard. Nathan, meanwhile, was left feeling optimistic after the film's final resolution. Both agreed that it was a wonderful movie; I certainly concurred.
As for the contention that a comedy about the Holocaust makes light of the suffering there, I feel compelled to quote Hawkeye Pierce, M*A*S*H's famous comic. When asked how he could always be making jokes while spending his days amidst the bloody aftermath of battle, he replied, "It's the only way I can open my mouth without screaming." The Holocaust was a terrible chapter in world history. As such, it is the ideal backdrop for a film which attempts to prove that hope springs eternal and sometimes laughter really is the best medicine.
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