Halloween Gets a Fairy Tale Twist in Scared Shrekless

Last month saw the release of Puss In Boots, a spin-off of DreamWorks' four-movie Shrek franchise. While I have yet to see it, I did watch a new-to-me Shrek special, Shared Shrekless, on Halloween.

Shrek has proven fertile ground for featurettes of this nature. It's fun to see familiar characters in a specific seasonal situation, and in this case, the characters are doubly familiar since they are largely the classic inhabitants of fairy tales who have been twisted slightly to appear in their current form. The Shrek Halloween special is very much along the same lines as the Christmas special Shrek the Halls, with a gaggle of woodlanders interrupting Shrek's celebration for a night of storytelling.

While gruff green Scottish ogre Shrek (Mike Myers) is overwhelmed and ornery in the Christmas special, here he is more in his element and happy to challenge his friends to a spooky story scare-off in the now-abandoned Duloc castle. Because of the brief time allotted for the special, we don't have time for very many stories, but each of the stories we do hear has a distinct tone.

Shrek's story, a spoof of The Exorcist starring a demented Pinocchio (Cody Cameron), is creepy but perhaps the least memorable. The funniest is the Psycho-flavored one told by Donkey (Dean Edwards) and Puss in Boots (Antonio Banderas), who spend the whole time one-upping each other as they try to make each other's fictional selves endure ever more humiliating horrors.

However, the clear standout - for me, anyway - is the blood-curdling tale told by Gingy (Conrad Vernon), just as it was in the Christmas special. Both stories involve a ladylove; in the first, she is undone by an unlikely villain, but here, the romantic interest is also the antagonist, a freakish Frankencookie whose excess of sugar in the production process has rendered her a smothering nightmare of a girlfriend. Kristin Schaal, who I know best as mildly psychotic uber-fan Mel on Flight of the Conchords, seems a perfect choice to convey that sugary-sweet stalker vibe.

I found the animation to be excellent, with all of the fairy tale characters and locations getting an ominous edge. The eerie trees bending to the force of a late-night wind and the cobwebbed ruins of Lord Farquaad's domain are particularly unsettling, and the new animatronic Welcome to Duloc display is frankly terrifying. Most of the original voice cast returns here, with the main exception being Eddie Murphy, but I didn't notice a difference in the voices as I was watching, and Donkey is my favorite character, so I'd say Edwards is an outstanding replacement.

In addition to the main special, which runs just over 20 minutes long, the DVD includes the five-minute-long Thriller Night, which is a spoof of Michael Jackson's Thriller video. It's fun to see so many Shrek characters, starting with those who met their demise in the movies, mimicking those iconic dance moves, but my favorite part of this short is the beginning, which finds a very disgruntled Shrek emerging from a theater playing a movie clearly modeled after The Sound of Music. I especially love Donkey's enthusiasm for yodeling puppets.

I'm one of those folks who scares easily, so while I enjoy getting into the fun of Halloween with some timely movies and specials, I prefer those that are geared at a family audience. Scared Shrekless fits the bill perfectly, and the grumpy ogre seems a better fit for Halloween than Christmas. Hence, while the special isn't exactly up there with It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown for me, it's one I would be happy to give a repeat viewing in Halloweens to come.

Weird Al's The Food Album Tickles Taste Buds and Funny Bones

Weird Al Yankovic is one strange guy. But boy, is he talented. I’ve been admiring his lyrical prowess for years, and since I started writing song parodies in earnest myself, I have considered him a major influence. But Al doesn’t stop with the lyrics. An accomplished singer and musician, he’s built a career on his precise mimicry of the songs of others, as well as his crafting of truly off-the-wall original recordings. One subject that seems to come up again and again throughout his albums is food, so it’s little surprise that he decided to devote an entire album to parodies on this theme with The Food Album.

Fat - One of two Michael Jackson parodies on this album, both of which gained far greater popularity than the other tracks. This is a song about a guy who really loves to eat, which has led to his having a rather unwieldy girth. An amusing song, and just over-the-top enough that it doesn’t really come across as mean-spirited. “If I have one more pie a la mode, I’m gonna need my own zip code...”

Lasagna - Starting off with a fun accordion solo, this La Bamba parody is a tribute to Italian food, which Al sings with a rather stilted accent. As in Eat It, it seems he’s taking on the voice of a mom who is pushing food on a reluctant eater, though in this case, I get the impression that the recipient of her meals is probably an adult. Slightly hard to understand some of the lyrics with his accent, but as a big fan of Italian food, I dig this one. “Have-a more ravioli. You a-get roly-poly, a-nice and a-big, like you cousin Luigi.”

Addicted to Spuds - When my brother Nathan was younger, he had a curious obsession with potatoes. In one of his art classes, he drew a poster of a “flock” of potatoes romping joyously upon a sun-drenched plain under the words “Free the Potatoes!” On another occasion, he produced a poster of a movie starring Paul Shaffer of The Late Show with David Letterman as a character named Potato. Clearly, Nathan was addicted to spuds and could have been the subject of this song. Al’s voice seems to veer off-key at times here, but I imagine that’s intentional. Thanks to that catchy Superbowl commercial from 2006, my first association with Addicted to Love is always going to be LOST, to which I clearly was (and probably still am) addicted, but I’ll be glad to listen to this as I munch on some French fries. “Potato skins, potato cakes. Hash browns and instant flakes. Baked or boiled or French fried. There’s no kind you haven’t tried.”

I Love Rocky Road - Al sounds like a slightly crazed teen with a braces lisp here, which makes his choice of favorite ice cream rather unfortunate. There’s no indication in the song that rocky road is any worse for him than a less chunky style of ice cream, but I can’t help but suspect that maybe part of the attraction is the knowledge that his eating habits would horrify his orthodontist. Silly sound effects, a bit of accordion and a chorus of Chipmunky voices at the end add to the fun here. “When I'm all alone, I just grab myself a cone, and if I get fat and lose my teeth that's fine with me. Just lock me in the freezer and throw away the key.”

Spam - I like the way the vocals overlap slightly on this song; it‘s always fun to hear Al sing with himself. This is a silly, electric guitar-heavy ode to everybody‘s favorite mystery meat. The lyrics are rather laughably simplistic, which seems to go with the cheapy quality of the food being celebrated. “The tab is there to open the can. The can is there to hold in the Spam.”

Eat It - Arguably Al’s most famous song, this parody of Beat It has Al taking on the role of a nagging parent whose child does not want to eat. It’s an expertly crafted parody, and it touches on a pretty universal experience. Al is a fun mix of goofy and imposing here; I can easily imagine Everybody Loves Raymond’s Marie letting loose with a diatribe like this when her boys were young. This song helped launch Al‘s career, and it‘s easy to see why. “How come you're always such a fussy young man? Don't want no Captain Crunch, don't want no Raisin Bran. Well, don't you know that other kids are starving in Japan? So eat it, just eat it!”

The White Stuff - When I saw this title, I had a hard time figuring out what this parody of The Right Stuff would be about. Halfway through the first verse, I still wasn’t sure, but when it finally hit me, I had to commend him on his cleverness, though I somehow have managed to be pretty much immune to the charms of the cookie he lauds. “Oh oh oh oh oh, oh O-reo! What’s in the middle? The white stuff!”

My Bologna - This accordion-heavy parody of My Sharona was the first of Al’s parodies to make it to number one of Dr. Demento’s countdown. It’s among Al’s simplest songs, which makes sense since it comes from so early in his career, but it’s certainly catchy. “Goin' to the market now, market now. I'm the city's biggest bologna buyer. Walkin' down the shopping aisles, shopping aisles, filling up my basket with Oscar Mayer.”

Taco Grande - Instead of Italian, Al dons a Spanish accent here. Pretty similar to Lasagna, except that the speaker is requesting food instead of offering it. There’s a lot of Spanish in this one, and since I don’t understand Spanish, I kinda feel like I’m missing out on something, and the fact that I don’t know the original song or like Mexican food also makes it a little harder to connect with this one. Still, it’s good for a chuckle or two. “You want some more cinnamon crispas? If you don't, hasta la vista. Just take the rest home in a doggie bag if you wanna. You can finish it mañana.”

The Rye or the Kaiser - Despite being a fan of Weird Al for half my life, I’d only heard three of the songs on this album before listening to it for the first time this week. This is my clear favorite of the new bunch, as it riffs on Eye of the Tiger, a song that always puts me into fist-pumping mode, and amusingly imagines a less than glamorous future for Rocky. There’s something both sad and sweet in the picture of this prize fighter now standing behind a deli counter taking orders. At least he seems to take as much pride in this new line of work as he did in boxing... “Try the rye or the kaiser, they're on special tonight. If you want, you can have an appetizer. You might like our salami, and the liver's all right. And they'd really go well with the rye or the kaiser.”

Weird Al seems to have a special knack for writing about munchies, so if you’re looking for a way to make light of your lunch, check out The Food Album. Just don’t listen with your mouth full or laughter-induced choking may ensue...

Donny Osmond Bares His Soul in Life Is Just What You Make It

It’s no secret that I love Donny Osmond, and this year it was even more transparent than usual since he was on Dancing With the Stars and hence a more natural topic of conversation. Still, it caught me by surprise when my friend Libbie handed me his memoir, Life Is Just What You Make It: My Story So Far. For one thing, I had no idea he’d written a book, nor did I realize quite how much I’d evidently been gushing about Donny. But now I was about to get his life’s story.

The funny thing about my fondness for Donny is that it doesn’t begin with his child star or teen dream days. Well, maybe that’s not so funny, since I was born during his career slump and he didn’t bounce back until I was nearing double digits. Still, it seems strange to me that prior to reading this book, my only familiarity with his early life as an Osmond Brother was watching the miniseries about his family. I don’t think I’ve ever listened to an Osmond Brothers album. I mean to amend that soon.

No, while I was familiar with the name, I thought of him mostly as a television personality, especially once The Donny and Marie Show started again and I was subjected to Richard Simmons screaming their names several times a day on those endless commercials. But then along came Mulan and the exceptional I’ll Make a Man Out of You, and I realized what an amazing singer Donny is. And not so long after that, I saw Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat on PBS, and while the entire production dazzled me, it was his performance that really caught my attention, especially during the show-stopping Close Ev’ry Door. To this day, I’ve seen few performances to match the purity and sincerity of Donny singing what is probably my favorite Andrew Lloyd Weber song. (One of those, Ryan Kelly’s cover of Desperado, so enchanted me in part because it reminded me of Donny’s delivery of Close Ev’ry Door, as well as my dazed reaction.)

My Story So Far covers all of that territory, from before Donny joined the family group to after Joseph aired. Written with Patricia Romanowski, it’s a fascinating peek into the dynamics of a family who would build a media empire, only to see it crash and have to build it up again, stronger than ever. One of the endearing things about Donny is that he comes across as such a genuinely nice guy, and this book does absolutely nothing to disavow that notion. He seems incapable of truly trashing somebody; any time he expresses dissatisfaction with some element of someone’s personality, he tempers that criticism with praise of another aspect. He finds kind things to say about all sorts of people, from shock-jock Howard Stern to the group of teenagers who heckled him after a performance during his less popular years. He speaks frequently of his commitment to his Mormon faith, which helps inform many of his attitudes and habits, from abstaining from alcohol and profanity to simply being polite at every opportunity. This makes his book a refreshingly G-rated read.

One aspect of the book that I found particularly poignant in light of his death last year is that, particularly when speaking about the early days of the group, Donny compares himself to Michael Jackson. He says how he used to think that Michael was probably about the only other person on the planet who really understood what it was like to be him. Both were seventh in a line of nine children. Both joined their brothers’ groups and found themselves taking over the spotlight. They had to deal with fame from an early age and spent most of their free time practicing under the eyes of very demanding fathers. While I’ve always had a pretty negative impression of Joe Jackson, Donny presents George Osmond in a mostly positive light. It seems that he was an exacting taskmaster, but he never crossed the line into abuse like the Jackson patriarch did. Donny fondly remembers the few times when they got together as children, recalling Michael as sweet, shy and simply grateful to be able to have some normal kid time with a boy around his own age. It’s interesting to see the parallels between these two lives - strange to think how normal and well-adjusted Donny ended up being, while poor Michael, for all his talent, seemed to have little concept of how to operate in the real world.

Donny has plenty to say about many others in the music and television business as well. It’s dizzying to think of how many different people he has worked with on one project or another, from Andy Williams and Jerry Lewis to Groucho Marx and Rosie O’Donnell. But he speaks most often about his brothers, as well as his sister Marie, for whom he reserves special affection (and aggravation). Donny reflects on their beginnings as a group and the various ways in which they might have changed direction; he seems to particularly regret that his teen idol image prevented the group from truly branching out into rock and roll. He also discusses the disappointment that followed their concept album’s dismal sales, which he attributes to an excessive focus on its religious element as they promoted it. Considering his dedication to his church, I was a little surprised that he felt this way, but he was frustrated because he found that most of the songs worked on two levels but that there was no opportunity for people to listen to individual tracks from the album in a different way.

My copy of this book includes several chapters that were written a few years after the original edition. In this section, Donny says that his favorite aspect of his book is his discussion of his crippling social phobia, as his experiences have encouraged many others with similar issues to recognize that they are not alone and to get help. It’s strange to think of a man who’s been performing since the age of six freezing onstage as an adult, let alone going into a panic at the thought of returning an unwanted item to the store, but he candidly recounts this painful aspect of his life, which he overcame with lots of help from his beloved wife Debbie and his psychotherapist, Dr. Jerilyn Ross, who died earlier this month.

I can’t help wondering whether another edition of his autobiography is soon to be forthcoming, now that he’s been crowned Dancing With the Stars champion for the fall of 2009. Or perhaps that experience could be the beginning of a new book, because Donny, no doubt, has many adventures ahead of him, and I look forward to reading about them all.

Michael Jackson's This Is It Is a Sweet But Incomplete Gift

For the past year or so, I have served as a guide on ChaCha, a mobile answering service that allows people to text in with questions and receive personalized responses in a timely fashion. Several months ago, I began receiving a lot of questions about Michael Jackson’s upcoming “This Is It” tour in London. Wow, I thought. Now that would be something to see.. Something, of course, that I was not in any position to see myself, but I was happy for the thousands who would be making the trip for one of the sold-out dates. When I learned of his death, I was shocked. Surely if he’d been weeks away from a massive tour, he was in good health? I didn’t believe it at first, but National Public Radio provided all the confirmation I needed. What a tragedy. And what a disappointment.

I had hoped that some sort of DVD release, if not a full-blown theatrical release, was planned to follow this tour. Certainly it would have been a shame for all the fans of modest means to miss such a spectacle. Michael Jackson’s This Is It is not the experience that would have been. As the film points out in its scrolling introduction, dress rehearsals were eight days away on June 25. What we get is a tantalizing peek at what might have been, and no doubt an attempt on the part of those behind the concert to recover from the staggering monetary loss; from a purely economic standpoint, it’s hard to see how Michael’s death could have come at a worse time. Was this a movie cobbled together purely for profit, a documentary of which Michael himself would not have approved? To some extent, perhaps. But it always feels respectful, never exploitative, and the emphasis is most definitely on the music.

It would have been easy to include footage throughout the video of throngs of fans mourning for Michael, but the movie itself never makes explicit reference to his death at all, not even in the introduction that mentions June 25. In light of his death, the testimonials by the dancers auditioning for spots on his team read like eulogies; to a lesser extent, so do later reflections by other members of his crew, from instrumentalists to techies. But all of this was filmed as Michael was very much alive, and we were never meant to see it.

Most of what we get is rehearsal for specific songs. Although, for the most part, the costumes are not in place, so it’s just Michael and his back-up dancers in t-shirts, we get to see some fantastic dance moves that look all the more spectacular en masse, as in a segment when, thanks to the magic of computer graphics, we witness an army of dancers generated from about a dozen. These cinematic moments, with footage taped to complement the performances during the concerts themselves, are the most visually arresting portions of the movie. I was particularly dazzled by the lavish presentation of Smooth Criminal, which intercuts Michael’s live performance with clips of him inserted into the black-and-white movie Gilda, and the ghoulish Thriller.

One thing that comes across loud and clear in this documentary is that Michael was a perfectionist. He knew exactly what he wanted and never hesitated to speak up when every aspect of his performance wasn’t just as he thought it should be. I’d hesitate to call him a diva; all of the corrections we see him issue are exceedingly gentle, and he scolds himself at times too. He repeatedly says that he wants everything to be as perfect as it can be “for love,” as a gift to the fans. And the next time I watch it, I want to keep a running tally of how many times he utters the words “God bless you.” He comes across as incredibly soft-spoken and kind. Nonetheless, it seems that he sometimes had difficulty articulating exactly how to achieve the vision he saw in his mind, and at times there is a definite weariness in the voice of director Kenny Ortega as he tries to break through the communication gap.

I was a little disappointed that my favorite Michael Jackson song, Will You Be There?, doesn’t make an appearance in the concert, though brief footage of a leaping orca feels like an homage to that Free Willy theme. We see that scene during the portion of the movie that moved me most. Though I loved Michael’s hits that were driven by humanitarian interests, particularly We Are the World and Heal the World, which plays during the credits, I’d never really thought of him as an environmentalist. I only encountered Earth Song when, in the immediate aftermath of his death, I took a What Michael Jackson Song Are You? quiz on Facebook. It impressed me then when I looked up the video on YouTube, and more when I saw his performance on the big screen.

I was haunted by the video portions, featuring angelic-looking young Jasmine Alveran wandering placidly through a gorgeous jungle landscape before falling asleep, only to awaken in shock at her devastated surroundings. Meanwhile, Michael seems to have sung with more passion here than at any other point in the concert. He also speaks at length during this portion about his concern for the environment, and later, during a pre-rehearsal circle with his crew, he again asserts his commitment to reversing humanity’s negative effects on the planet. It made me wish that he’d collaborated with John Denver at least once. What a team they would have made!

Seeing all of the hard work, talent and passion that went into this concert, my heart goes out to the many members of his team who were living their dream, only to have it snatched away before it could be fully realized. While Michael occasionally expresses concerns about preserving his voice, there’s little to indicate any sense of frailty in this film. He seems vigorous, full of energy - and childlike enthusiasm, as amusingly illustrated when he has to be reminded to cling to the safety rail as he’s raised up in a cherry picker.

For Michael Jackson fans, this is a sweet, albeit sadly incomplete, gift. Go and revel in the complex choreography and the unique glimpse of what was involved in putting together what would have been an exceptional show. Stay for the credits, both to recognize that it takes a village to create a concert of this magnitude and to see the brief clips that serve as a tender coda. And, of course, it’s during the credits that we get to hear the title song. While it’s probably impossible to watch this documentary without reflecting on the sad circumstances that led to its release, Michael Jackson’s This Is It is also sure to bring a smile and may just inspire the next groundbreaking young performer.

The Man Without a Face and Free Willy Would Be a Good Double Feature...

When my friend Dan and I went to the video store the other night in anticipation of our long-planned media marathon, one of the movies he ran past me was The Man Without a Face, the 1993 film that marked Mel Gibson‘s directorial debut. He explained that he’d wanted to see it ever since it hit movie theaters, and I agreed that it was best not to let this particular dream be deferred any longer. So it was that we found ourselves with bowls of buttery popcorn and icy cans of Pepsi at 3 in the morning, ready to make this touching but unsettling film the midpoint of our marathon.

The Man Without a Face stars wide-eyed Nick Stahl as Chuck Norstadt, an angsty young teen who is saddled with a learning disability, a dead dad, an irresponsible mother (Margaret Whitton) and two half-sisters, each with a different father. Ten-year-old Megan (Gaby Hoffman) idolizes her older brother, but her hyper-intelligence annoys him. Meanwhile, teenage Gloria (Fay Masterson) treats him with nothing but disdain.

All he wants is to get away, to go to boarding school like the father whose background remains shrouded in mystery. So desperate is he that when he finds out Justin McLeod (Mel Gibson), a creepy, disfigured loner who lives in a mansion on the outskirts of town with his intimidating German Shepherd, is a teacher, he entreats the man to help him, never informing his mother where he intends to spend his summer days. Reluctantly, McLeod agrees, and so begins the slow process of healing two broken lives.

In many ways, this movie reminds me of Free Willy, a previous Dan and Erin Movie Marathon selection. Both films came out in 1993, and each deals with a very troubled boy with little adult supervision who finds a kindred spirit in a similarly disturbed soul. In Free Willy, that friend is a whale separated from his family and forced into captivity, whereas here, it’s a man misunderstood by society and scarred in a multitude of ways by a tragic accident.

Additionally, Free Willy was a major vehicle for Michael Jackson, who wrote and performed the film’s theme song, and unfortunately, as the release coincided with the first murmurings of inappropriate contact between Michael and some of his young fans, the title inspired a flood of crude jokes. It’s easy to think of Michael as a “man without a face,” as his own handsome features were so dramatically altered through a combination of scarring and surgery, easy to compare him to a character who spends years in hiding from a town full of people who find him freakish. And when accusations of molestation enter into the movie, threatening to destroy all the good that has been accomplished with this relationship, it’s almost impossible not to think of Michael.

Stahl does an excellent job of conveying the conflicted emotions of a boy who could be headed for a dark future if someone doesn’t intervene, and Hoffman is endearing as the sister who at least tries to understand. But it’s Gibson who really kept me riveted. His complicated character starts out as surly as Dr. House, and in the beginning he seems to go out of his way to drive Chuck away. Eventually, however, it’s clear that he enjoys the boy’s company and relishes being able to make a difference in a young life. Whenever the corners of his mouth flicker upward ever so slightly, it’s natural to feel warmer toward this cranky bachelor. Incidentally, I love that the moment that really cements their friendship involves him introducing Chuck to the John Gillespie Magee, Jr. poem High Flight, which Ronald Reagan quoted in his speech commemorating those killed in the Challenger disaster.

Though this is in some respects a family film, there is a dark undercurrent to it that makes it more appropriate for teenagers. While not strictly a feel-good movie, The Man Without a Face is profoundly moving and highly recommended.

My Top Ten Movies of the Early '90s ('90-'94)

I'm a child of both the '80s and the '90s, and many of my favorite movies come from those decades. In the first half of the '90s, I was between 9 and 13, and my pre-teen years were filled with some terrific cinema. These are my ten favorites. Give or take a few...

The Rescuers Down Under (1990) / Beauty and the Beast (1991) / Aladdin (1992) / The Lion King (1994) - Okay, so I'm totally cheating on this one because Disney could do no wrong in the early '90s. The sequel to The Rescuers rates just below the others only because it isn't a musical. I like it much better than the first; the animation of all that glorious Australian wilderness is fantastic, especially during the flying-on-the-eagle's-back sequences, and George C. Scott marvelously voices one of my favorite Disney villains. The last three all have amazing songs to go along with the brilliant animation and terrific stories. Beauty and the Beast boasts my favorite Disney heroine, Aladdin the most manic Disney sidekick ever and The Lion King my all-time favorite Disney opening sequence. I saw them all in the theater, and I have them all on tape. Disney doesn't get much better than this.

Ghost (1990) - Seems to me we bought this one on a whim at McDonald's for five bucks one time, and it quickly became a favorite, mostly due to the hilarious antics of Whoopi Goldberg as a crackpot psychic who can suddenly talk to dead people and the touching finale, which features a gorgeous orchestral version of Unchained Melody. Oh, and it's pretty darn romantic too.

Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country (1992) / Star Trek: Generations (1994) - Neither is my favorite Trek movie, but I think Undiscovered is the first one I saw in a regular theater. I seem to remember it being sold out the first time we tried to see it and being so frustrated about it that I bought the novelization. It's a landmark movie since it's the last to include the full original cast, and it's one of the most philosophical of the Trek films. Spock has some great moments with his protege, and the scene in which Uhura must pass herself off as a Klingon is hilarious. And all that Shakespeare isn't bad either. Generations is the first to feature the cast of The Next Generation, and it probably is my favorite of their films, partly because of the prominence of Guinan (Whoopi Goldberg again), an uncharacteristically serene character who tended to be underused, partly because of the chance to bring the two greatest captains of the Enterprise face to face with each other, partly because of the idyllic quality of the Nexus scenes, but mostly because I absolutely love Brent Spiner's performance as Data, my favorite character, learns to deal with his acquisition of human emotions.

Far and Away (1992) - I'd never heard of this before we watched it in my eleventh grade history class, but I quickly fell in love with it, and shortly after we finished it at school, I insisted we rent it at home. My family loved it as much as I did, so it wasn't long before we bought it, and watching it has become a St. Patrick's Day tradition. I love the humor, the sweetness of the opposites-attract romance, the cinematography, the historical interest, the score, the cast and of course all those Irish accents, even if some of them are phony. It's a movie that my brother and I still quote to each other frequently, and no matter how many times I hear it was a flop, it will be one of my favorites.

Sister Act (1992) - This was a second choice when Mom and I saw it on our annual back-to-school shopping outing. We'd planned to see 3 Ninjas, but it was sold out, so we gave this a try even though Mom had an idea that I'd find it boring. Well, it was anything but. Whoopi Goldberg had me in stitches again, and I found the real nuns at the convent where she goes into hiding to be wonderfully touching as well as funny. This is the movie that introduced me to Harvey Keitel and the formidable Maggie Smith, as well as a lot of great Motown music. I was singing the sisters' hit renditions of those songs for days, and I couldn't wait to get this one on video. Awesome music, side-splitting humor and a moving story of redemption. And nuns! What more could I ask for?

Free Willy (1993) - I saw this one on the next year's back-to-school outing and loved it just as much. I've always been a "save the whales" kind of gal, so I liked the premise, and I found the characters endearing and the film surprisingly free of objectionable material. A tough-on-his-luck kid name Jesse abandoned by his mother gets a new shot at life thanks to a similarly alone orca, his understanding trainers and a couple who want to welcome Jesse into their home despite his issues. It's a heartwarming movie, and that shot of Willy leaping over the barrier is as iconic as E. T. and Elliot flying across the moon. And its theme song, Will You Be There, still stands as my all-time favorite Michael Jackson song.

Angels in the Outfield (1994) - Probably my favorite sports-related movie, this film about a boy whose prayer for divine assistance for his favorite team is motivated by a desire for a family is a great tale of friendship and faith. Christopher Lloyd is his usual zany self as the main angel with whom young Roger communicates, and I love Danny Glover's performance as the cranky coach who begins to reassess his worldview when his team suddenly starts winning. The angels provide some terrific visuals as they help the players pull off some amazing stunts, but what I really love are the ways in which a little bit of faith transforms the characters for the better. And the image of the crowd standing en masse and giving the angel signal is one of my favorite movie moments.

Forrest Gump (1994) - I remember hearing about this movie on Good Morning America and thinking it looked interesting but probably wasn't a movie for kids. It stayed in the theater for ages; it seems inconceivable to me now that a movie could have lasted in the cinema for nearly a year, but I saw it in April of '95 with my mom and grandparents, the only movie the five of us have all seen together in the theater. And I really got what all the fuss was about. Tom Hanks is absolutely pitch-perfect as Forrest, a Bear of Little Brain But Much Heart. He might be a little slow, but it doesn't stop him from making his mark in a multitude of ways. Hanks' performance, an outstanding (and very quotable) screenplay that is as touching as it is hilarious, impressive special effects planting Forrest into historical footage and a soundtrack featuring a couple dozen of the best songs of the sixties and seventies are just some of the reasons I love this movie. I can't go more than a couple of years without watching it; from the moment Alan Silvestri's delicate feather theme begins to play, I am transported. I simply cannot watch this movie without emerging feeling a little better about life.

Michael Jackson Encourages Everyone to "Heal the World, Make It a Better Place"

There are many things I will remember about Michael Jackson, but first and foremost, I will recall his humanitarianism. He always struck me a man who was profoundly concerned about the welfare of the disenfranchised, especially children. Throughout the '80s and '90s, this focus was especially evident in songs like Man in the Mirror, Earth Song and, of course, We Are the World, a massive effort uniting many of the biggest musical superstars of the day for the sake of raising money for famine relief in Africa. Similar in tone and message to the latter is 1991's Heal the World, one of Jackson's quietest but ultimately most impressive hits.

Like several of his inspirational-style songs, it has a chorus that, at one point, grows mightier with each repetition as the accompanying choir swells. By the end of the song, you're left with the impression that everybody in the world truly is pitching in to help, while the child at the end drives home the point that each one of us ought to make an individual, personal effort. It's a child who starts and ends the song, one by speaking, the other by singing, and while it's a Jackson solo until about two-thirds of the way through the song, the children are the stars of the video, with the King of Pop completely absent. Of all his videos, at least the ones I've seen, I would say that this one is the least egocentric. I also discovered that, according to a 2001 chat session with fans, it's the song of which he's proudest.

Heal the World seems to me to have a very '70s vibe to it. It's mellow in the extreme, with the first half, anyway, sounding more like John Denver's style than Michael Jackson's - and I suspect that Denver approved of this song heartily. I'm not aware of their ever having worked together, but when it came to issues like the ones explored in this song, I think they were very much on the same page. What a collaboration that would have been! The video's whole theme of children (toting flowers, no less) convincing soldiers to lay down their guns feels very hippie-ish and reminds me specifically of Rhymes and Reasons, in which Denver sings, "For the children and the flowers are my sisters and my brothers" and "It is written, 'From the desert to the mountains they shall lead us...'"

I don't know that I'd ever actually watched the video before this week. If I did, it was a long time ago, and as I never had MTV, I don't know when the occasion would have arisen. I'm not a huge fan of music videos in general, but I generally like Jackson's, and I love this one. It feels so cinematic, so simple but powerful. It cuts between scenes of peace and destruction, of children playing and of bombs going off. It soon becomes the story of an ever-growing group of children from all walks of life drawing near to a group of heavily armed soldiers, who begin to take note of their approach and ultimately are moved, in the face of such innocence, to trade their guns for flowers. At that point, the rest of the video involves a candlelight vigil whose attendance grows with each increase in volume in the repeated chorus. There's a certain naivety to the video, but then Jackson was never known for being 100 percent in tune with reality. And who knows? If everyone took the sentiments in this song to heart, maybe wars could end this painlessly.

Jackson's voice always was on the high side, but this song showcases his upper register even more than most. It's so soft and flutey, and especially in the verses, it sounds like he's going into a falsetto. While the opening line of the song doesn't quite work for me ("There's a place in your heart, and I know that it is love" seems as grammatically suspect as "I'm proud to be an American, where at least I know I'm free"), I love the lyrics in general. "We stop existing and start living" is a great line, and lines like "See the nations turn their swords into ploughshares" give the song a biblical resonance. The chorus works best of all; it's powerful and easy to remember, especially since it's repeated so many times. By the time the song ends, the message has really been driven home.

Michael Jackson was right to be proud of this song. It's one of his finest, especially when the video is factored into the equation. In fact, the video is on the verge of displacing my long-held favorite, Will You Be There. Unlike that exuberant number, Heal the World isn't the sort of song that makes you want to get up and dance. But it does make you want to get up and make a difference.

If Bad Is Good, Michael Jackson Was the Baddest

I grew up in the 1980s, when Michael Jackson was king, though I never paid much attention to the contemporary music scene, and it wasn't until the early '90s that I got to be really familiar with some of Jackson's biggest solo pop hits. I have to give credit to Weird Al Yankovic - and in turn my brother Benjamin, who force-fed me the master spoofer's parodies until I developed a taste for them - for deepening my appreciation of Michael Jackson. I think the first song I ever heard of his was Eat It, which came on during a ride at an amusement park; the song was halfway over before we realized something was amiss with the words. Eat It, such a hilarious send-up of nagging mothers everywhere, remains one of my favorite Al tunes.

When Benjamin's Al-mania was in full swing, we watched a television special putting His Weirdness's parodies back-to-back with the original videos that inspired them. I'm pretty sure that's the first time I saw the video for Bad, which led to Fat, a song whose lyrics might be considered the natural consequence of too much Eat It-style forced eating. I'm not sure why food and Michael Jackson seem to go together in Yankovic's mind, but then he seems to have an excessive fondness for that subject in general. While I'm not a big fan of fat jokes, as a frame-for-frame parody of the Bad video, Fat, with the Incredibly Expanding Al and the zany sound effects, is brilliant.

From the first snap of his wrist in that dark subway station to the final defiant close-up, this is a visually arresting video. I can see why Al chose to parody both Beat It and Bad, as they are two of the most impressive testaments to Michael's talent, and both involve this gentle soul trying to come off like a total punk. He looks pretty convincing in his black, silver-spangled get-up, strutting around with a flock of equally tough-looking followers, but just as it's hard to be too intimidated by graceful gang members crooning "When you're a Jet, you're a jet all the way" in West Side Story, these perfectly coordinated dancers are a little too sprightly to appear genuinely menacing. I imagine that's part of the point; they're a bunch of posers who want us all to think they're bad. And then they all go home and have tea with their grandmothers.

The choreography in the video is exceptional, and so much of Jackson's genius at this point in his career was about his moves that it's difficult to separate the video from the song itself. This isn't a single you want to listen to only; you want the video on your television so you can play it on repeat, trying all afternoon to replicate the dance steps. There's nothing all that brilliant about the lyrics in and of themselves. It starts off with that classically odd opener, "Your butt is mine," and continues with the trash talk and the repeated assertions of "I'm bad". If you have to say it so many times, something tells me it's probably not true. Still, if "bad is good", as asserted by Zack, the ridiculously 80s-ish visitor to the fairy world in 1992's animated tree-hugging flick FernGully, then at the time this video was made in the late '80s, it's fairly safe to say that Michael Jackson was the baddest guy around.

My appreciation for Michael Jackson runs deepest when I think of him as a humanitarian. Bad doesn't showcase that side of him. But it does display what an exceptional dancer he was, and I get the sense that he had a lot of fun making this video. I hope he did. It sure is fun to watch.

Michael Jackson's You Are Not Alone - A Plea For and Promise of Companionship

By the time 1995 rolled around, Michael Jackson was on the verge of being less triumphant King of Pop than defeated king of tabloid fodder. Amid the turmoil and scandal surrounding him that year, he released You Are Not Alone, a song of love and friendship specifically about his marriage with Lisa Marie Presley. More generically, it made a perfect bookend to 1993 mega-hit Will You Be There. The first was a plea; though the second begins that way, it evolves into a promise.

I've been listening to a lot of Michael Jackson's songs since the news of his death hit yesterday, and I'm coming to realize that the theme of yearning for a genuine connection with another runs deep in his work, going all the way back to I'll Be There and Ben. The Stand By Me / Lean On Me category of music is one that almost always yields songs I love, from Bridge Over Troubled Water and You've Got a Friend to Candle on the Water and You've Got a Friend in Me, so Michael Jackson is in good company here.

In general, I find that Jackson's songs are best enjoyed as audio-visual experiences. He was a true pioneer of the music video, and it's generally a joy to watch him. In this case, however, I'd tend to opt for the purely audio version. The video feels uncomfortably intimate, filled with close-ups on Michael's soulful eyes and semi-bare chest, which by this point in his career was eerily pale. He's not doing any dancing, really, and the shots of him and Lisa Marie together seem oddly voyeuristic, as though he wanted to allow the world a peek into his life to assure everyone he was a part of a happy, healthy marriage.

I was never quite convinced. I remember watching an interview with Jackson and Presley around this time; he seemed embarrassed, she seemed hostile, and the whole thing was very awkward. That same strange tension seems to run through the video despite the outward appearances of happiness - though part of that could just be me reading into things in retrospect, knowing a divorce soon followed.

I don't get any of that when I simply listen to the song, however. At that point, it becomes just another worthy ode to friendship. The accompaniment is pretty simple, with keyboards and mellow adult-contemporary-appropriate percussion. The song has a lovely melody that Michael sings in a pretty straightforward, low-key manner, up until the last two minutes or so of the song, which resembles the conclusion of Will You Be There in that a choir takes over the main melody line, with Michael interjecting with earnest outbursts. As often is the case, the chorus gets quite a workout; over and over, especially toward the end, we hear the basic refrain: "You are not alone, for I am here with you. Though you're far away, I am here to stay. But you are not alone, for I am here with you. Though we're far apart, you're always in my heart. But you are not alone."

It's certainly not one of his more innovative songs. Of all his hits, I'd say this is probably the most generic. But it's a sweet song nonetheless, the kind of thing I would be happy to stumble upon while tuning into Delilah on a relaxing evening. It's not my favorite ballad of its kind, but as glimpse into Michael's soul at one of the most difficult times in his life, You Are Not Alone is especially moving.

Remembering Michael Jackson With the Aching, Inspiring Will You Be There?

I went to the movies with my friend Libbie today, and on our way out of the theater, we overhead a woman remark to her friend that she'd heard Michael Jackson had died. I was startled, but as I'd heard a rumor to that effect last week, I thought perhaps it was just idle gossip generated by a photo of him looking ill. Nonetheless, we tuned into the news on the radio, and when the hour opened with the news of Jackson's death, I was stunned. He was only 50 years old, with a massive run of concerts coming up in London and occasional rumors of a new album in the making.

Of course, the man once dubbed the King of Pop has been quite reclusive of late, keeping out of the spotlight as much as possible in the wake of painful accusations and litigations. While I'm in no position to say whether his recent reputation as a child molester had any merit, I look at his troubled life and his commitment to humanitarian efforts, and all I can see is an extremely talented man with a great deal of love in his heart who felt he'd missed out on childhood and who never learned how to interact normally with the rest of society. I think Michael Jackson was a sad and beautiful man, and I'm sorry that it seemed he was rarely able to find true peace in his life.

While Jackson tore up the Billboard charts with innovative pop numbers whose videos illustrated his impressive dancing skills, my favorite songs of his, going all the way back to his early days with the Jackson 5, have always tended toward the reflective. I'll Be There and Ben always tug at my heartstrings, and though I admit to being amused by parodies poking fun at his grandiose awareness-raising anthems, that doesn't make me any less moved by the likes of We Are the World and Heal the World. When I think of Michael Jackson, I think first and foremost I will remember a man who made a genuine effort to better humanity. He knew the power he wielded as a pop star, and for the most part, he used it well.

If I had to choose a favorite among all of his songs, I would almost certainly have to go with Will You Be There?, the theme song from the 1993 movie Free Willy, about a hard-on-his-luck street kid who befriends an imperiled orca. It was my favorite movie of the year, and whenever I heard the swelling chorus of the accompanying song, I felt inspired. In fact, I had a hard time thinking of it as a pop song; it sounded more like gospel music to me, a plea for friendship and understanding from such a deep place in the soul, it felt more like an impassioned prayer, with an addressee far more transcendent than even the most magnificent whale. That jubilant choir and Biblical imagery did nothing to dissuade me from that notion. I still find listening to it a spiritually stimulating experience. Just as Ben is about more than just a rat, Will You Be There? is about more than just a whale, or at least it can be.

This is a song that fits in well with Jackson's other epic efforts. Though the spotlight remains on him, it's the choir that brings such majestic depth to the song, making clapping, dancing and singing along hard to resist. And as an encapsulation of the movie, the official video is so perfect that it almost renders watching the film itself unnecessary. I love the transitions between his free-spirited twirling and Willy's exuberant splashing, his synchronized hand motions and Jesse's nonverbal signals to his enormous friend.

Meanwhile, the angst-ridden outbursts as the choir moves into the foreground gel perfectly with the frustrations of boy and whale alike. I remember pounding out the chords to this one in my living room; the piano-laden introduction is one of my all-time favorite song openings. I also love the driving percussion, in the presence of which I simply can't sit still. And the vulnerability in Jackson's voice as he recites the concluding poem over the fading music is indicative of a man who, despite the adulation of millions, was filled with loneliness himself. This song has always struck me as very autobiographical, which makes it all the more poignant.

I suspect I'll be listening to this song quite a bit over the next few days. Though we didn't see much of him in the last few years, I had hoped for the possibility of a comeback; I'm certain that he still had brilliant music to share, but even if he never would have written another song, his sudden, early death was a tragedy. Thankfully, he left an extensive legacy. Thanks for the music, Michael, and the inspiration. You will be missed.

Freddie and Johnny and Tim, Oh My!: Willy Wonka Revisited

This is the summer of the remake, it seems. How many must we suffer through? The Dukes of Hazzard, Bewitched, Bad News Bears… luckily, there is at least one rehashing that is worth the audience’s time and attention. Conveniently enough, it has a different name than the original, making it easy to distinguish. I speak, of course, of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Now, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory is undeniably a classic, with the musical numbers (especially the goofy Oompa Loompa tunes); the silly snippets of folks around the world going to great lengths to get a winning ticket; the inane lessons of Charlie’s teacher (who is probably my favorite character); the repulsive behavior of Veruca Salt and the reactions of her cowed father; and of course, the antics of Gene Wilder as eccentric but self-assured Willy Wonka. But after seeing Tim Burton’s skewed mind take on the equally skewed world of Roald Dahl, I may be prepared to pronounce him the victor.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory opens with an eye-catching demonstration of the process by which Wonka bars are made and delivered to stores around the world. It’s a preview of the brilliant land we will enter once Willy opens his factory to five lucky ticket holders. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Our first glimpse of the protagonist is in considerably more drab surroundings: a precariously leaning shack in the middle of town, where seven family members huddle over bowls of cabbage soup. I confess here that while I have seen the previous film many times, one of them this year, I have read the book only once, many years ago. So I remember the film much more clearly and found myself making comparisons to that instead of the book, to which this movie sticks more closely. I honestly cannot recall if Charlie Bucket (Freddie Highmore) had a dad (Noah Taylor) in the book, but he definitely did not in the movie, so seeing this extra family member was a considerable surprise – the first of many.

Several characters and plot points are notably different in this film. In fact, the major conflict has nothing whatsoever to do with Slugworth or everlasting gobstoppers, both of which are given only the briefest of mentions, almost as a nod to the prior movie. Gone entirely is the bubble chamber in which Charlie and Grandpa Joe do a bit of giddy floating – and, sadly, so is Charlie’s teacher. But for every missing element, there is something grander to take its place, and the film becomes less about Charlie’s dedication to a loony chocolatier and more about his devotion to the family members who have nurtured him for so long in spite of their poverty.

The cast is top-notch, starting with dear young Freddie. Ever since I saw him in Two Brothers, I was hooked. By Finding Neverland, he had become my favorite male child actor since Haley Joel Osment (female vote goes to Dakota Fanning). And now, with his adorable toothy grin, impossibly large blue eyes, husky voice and apparent inherent sweetness, he makes me fall utterly in love with Charlie Bucket. I always thought the original Charlie was just okay, but Freddie is phenomenal, and Burton couldn’t have made a better casting choice. Mum (Helena Bonham Carter) and Dad are a perfectly pleasant pair of doting parents. The fact that Mr. Bucket works in a toothpaste factory is an amusing detail, and his “special perks” allow Charlie to build a fantastic model of the fabled factory. Meanwhile, the grandparents are comical and more well-defined than before. Grandpa George (David Morris) is a crusty old curmudgeon who enjoys cursing and generally spreading his negativity around as far as it will go, to the general annoyance of his fellow bedridden nonagenarians. Grandma Georgina (Liz Smith) is a bit batty, while Grandma Josephine (Eileen Essell) is warm and comforting. Once again, though, it is Grandpa Joe (David Kelly of Waking Ned Devine fame) who is developed the most fully. He and Charlie share an especially close bond, and in this film he isn’t just an intrigued outsider when it comes to the chocolate factory. He actually worked there himself for a number of years before Willy Wonka laid off his entire staff and locked the factory gates after too many of his secrets began leaking out. Joe is sweet and funny, and his oversize glasses add a pleasantly goony touch to his appearance.

There are of course the same four obnoxious children, though two of them have been altered somewhat. The scenes in which they are introduced are nearly identical to those in the first film, aside from a lack of Slugworth slinking around in the background. Augustus Gloop (Philip Wiegratz) and his mother (Franziska Troegner) are virtually identical to the pair in the first movie. They look the same, they act the same. Every time we see Augustus, he is stuffing his face. He does have one new little scene in the film that tickled my funny bone terribly. As the children are making their way into the factory, A chocolate bar-toting Augustus, in what I took to be an uncharacteristic moment of kindness, asks Charlie if he would like some chocolate. Charlie also appears taken aback by this gesture but gratefully accepts his generosity, at which point Augustus taunts, “Too bad! You should have brought your own!” and runs off. Aside from that, though, pretty old hat. He’s the first to go, so we never did get to know him all that well.

Veruca Salt (Julia Winter) is someone we know all too well, however. While Augustus is too busy gorging himself to say much, Veruca is always opening her mouth to demand from her father (James Fox) whatever happens to pop into her head at the moment. I’ve already said I found Burton’s casting inspired, but in this case I just don’t think the original can be improved upon. The original Veruca was the essence of obnoxiousness, and her poor overwrought father was pathetic as he was entertaining. And her show-stopping performance with the golden geese… Well, who could forget that? She was the only one of the four brats who got her own musical number. Our local Youtheatre put on a performance of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory when I was in ninth grade, and every girl auditioning seemed to have her eye on Veruca’s part. Nobody cared about Violet. I think this owes a lot to Julie Dawn Cole, the young lady originating the role, and I have to give her props for that. So I don’t really have a complaint with this Veruca, but I just think this is a case in which the original can’t be outdone. And her father is much more of a prim and proper sort of fellow, which is much less entertaining than the blustering coot we saw in the original. Veruca’s grand scene is vastly different than in the original, though it’s the same basic concept. Though I didn’t like the song as much, I must say I enjoyed the particular participants in this scene immensely, owing to a personal preference. They’re certainly a lot cuter than the geese.

Veruca always had a corner on rudeness in the first film, but Burton seems determined to make the other kids catch up as much as possible. Violet Beauregarde (Annasophia Robb) is utterly insufferable. A competitive know-it-all, she is a virtual clone of her mother (Missi Pyle), who eggs Violet on in all of her pursuits. “Eyes on the prize,” she tells her daughter when they learn that one of the five children will receive an extra special prize at the end of the tour. Violet does her best to ingratiate herself to Willy Wonka, but she must be seriously deluded if she thinks that her constant insults flung at the factory owner are making her any point. Mike Teavee (Jordan Fry) is similarly incorrigible, and while the other parents think their kids can do no wrong, his dad (Adam Godley) seems weary and even afraid of the tyke, who greatest passion is violent video games. Both these children seem to serve as a way for Burton to comment on certain unpalatable aspects of contemporary society: over-competitive children with pushy stage moms, and addictive violent video games. Mr. Teavee replaces Mr. Salt as the petrified parent.

Of course, by far the actor who has gotten the most attention in this film is Johnny Depp, who has made a career out of playing extremely eccentric characters. Willy Wonka is an oddball, that’s for sure. But Depp’s Wonka is an entirely different kind of weirdo than Gene Wilder’s. Wilder made the titular character manipulative, almost demonic at times, and always in complete control of the situation. He was clearly self-assured, while Depp’s Wonka is insecure to the max. Before I saw the movie, I heard all sorts of buzz about how much this Wonka seemed to resemble Michael Jackson, a comment I thought was odd, especially since they look nothing alike. However, with these comments zipping about in my mind, I couldn’t help but look for similarities. And perhaps because I was looking, I found them. Most obviously, Wonka appears androgynous. He looks more like a girl than a guy, and he speaks with an unnaturally high voice. He doesn’t seem to know how to interact with normal people, but he has built a wonderland, which he shares not with children but with the beleaguered Oompa Loompas. He, too, feels he suffered a great deal at the hands of his father (Christopher Lee, looking characteristically creepy in a series of loopy flashbacks) and was robbed of a normal childhood. He also wears funny gloves, and there is the small matter of those 80s-ish dance routines concocted by his employees. So yeah, I see a few similarities. And you know what? I always liked Michael Jackson. And I think this Wonka is a lot more likable than the original. He’s afraid of his own shadow. He’s amused by the strangest things. He recoils from human touch and is so repulsed by the whole notion of family that he can’t even say the word “parents.” But he’s really quite a sweet man, and it’s easy to feel sorry for him. But not for Depp, who is more likely to be envied, as he is clearly one of the most talented actors working today. Like Jude Law, he emerges in each new role almost unrecognizable. I can’t wait for Corpse Bride.

So much imagination went into this production. I really think Dahl would have been pleased. In addition to the ultra-bright chocolate river room featured on movie posters, I found two scenes particularly arresting. One was the introductory puppet performance that we heard in the previews of this movie several months ago. Monstrously irritating, impressively complex, and certainly a little nutty, it reminded me of a similar device in Shrek and paved the way for a hilarious first impression of Wonka. The other scene, which made me recall Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, depicts the Great Glass Elevator in all its glory, going all the ways we know it can but never get to see in the original. There certainly is a lot to see in this factory, and the visuals here are impressive. It’s also fun to see how many of the room labels you can read before the camera pans away.

Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory is a beloved movie that I will always be fond of. But I think this is one of those rare instances where the remake actually managed to outdo the original. When the first film was so good, that’s really saying something. Tim Burton and Roald Dahl are an ideal combination; I wish he’d tackle more of his books. But I am certainly glad he was not too intimidated by the other’s classic status to tackle this project. Three cheers for Charlie!

"Let's Free Willy!"

As soon as my dad and brother saw a preview for this movie at the movie theater, they knew I would love it. My brother eagerly told me about it when he returned home. So I was eager to see it, and I got my chance when Mom took me school shopping that August. After a morning of shopping and lunch at Chuck E. Cheese's, we settled in for one of my all-time favorite sappy movies.

Yes, I'll call it sappy. Free Willy has almost an E.T. feel to it, with a boy and a very non-human creature bonding and eventually the strength of that bond being tested when the creature's life is endangered. Free Willy begins with Jesse, a troublemaker who's spent his childhood in and out of foster homes, tearing up the town with a gang of friends. They eventually wind up at a run-down aquarium and proceed to decorate it with spray paint, until they are interrupted by authorities. Jesse is left holding the bag, and as punishment he must scrub off all the paint.

Meanwhile, he has been placed in a foster home with a couple who very much want to be a part of his life. They are eager to learn his interests and accommodate him, but Jesse takes a long time to warm up to them. And despite the statements of his kind-hearted but tough social worker, Jesse still believes that his mother is returning for him.

Jesse's life takes a turn for the better, however, when he encounters Willy, an orca who is the star attraction at the aquarium. The whale and the boy seem to understand one another, and Jesse is thrilled when Willy responds to the music of his harmonica and imitates his motions. All too soon his work at the aquarium is finished, and Jesse sneaks back at night to bid farewell to his friend. A slippery floor and panic at hearing footsteps lead Jesse to plunge into the tank, and miraculously, Willy comes to the rescue. Their bond is sealed, and Jesse's boss offers him a job working with Willy.

The plot thickens as Jesse learns that the park isn't making any money, and it will close down if they don't bring in some revenue soon. With the help of another whale trainer, Jesse is in a race against time to get Willy to deliver. And if Willy decides not to cooperate, the consequences will be far more dire than any of them could have imagined.

Free Willy is a fantastic movie about love. Love between two beings whom society has declared outcast, and how that love brings each of them home at last. The eventual conclusion is harrowing, bittersweet, and ultimately joyful, culminating in Michael Jackson's exuberant single, Will You Be There? All in all, a beautiful and heartwarming family film to be enjoyed by people of all ages.