Edwin Schrödinger is famous for proposing a thought experiment involving a cat locked in a windowless room with some poison. His quantum mechanics brethren argue that, reality being based on our subjective observations, until one opens the door to the room, two realities actually exist: the cat is both dead from eating the poison and alive from not eating the poison. The option you perceive to be true when you open the door determines the fate of the cat. This principle comes into play during Sliding Doors, which could have also been called Schrödinger’s Chick Flick.
Helen Quilley (Gwyneth Paltrow) gets fired from her job early in the day and heads home to sulk. She reaches the train station at the last possible moment and her life splits into two realities. In one, she makes the train, arrives home to find her boyfriend (John Lynch) in bed with another woman, dumps his sorry butt, and falls in love with another man (John Hannah). In the other, she misses the train, stays with her cheating bohemian boyfriend, works two crappy jobs to support his goal of becoming a writer, and is generally frustrated with life.
When I was a young lad in the 1990s, this was one of those films that ‘everybody’ was talking about. Gwyneth Paltrow was the ‘it girl’ of the moment, and chick flicks never go out of style. What’s not to like? While some sequences are cleverly shot to produce a seamless transition between realities, this film will disappoint anyone hoping for any serious philosophical musings. I wouldn’t be so harsh as to call the twin realities a gimmick but it never really evolves past the point of being an interesting idea.
For those wondering about convergence and finality, yes, there is some. I won’t spoil the ending for you but I will say that I was not a fan of how the realities converge. There is a cute little sendoff that suggests our principal characters are somehow aware of the other reality that could have been, but that’s all it is- cute. It serves its purpose as a chick flick by giving audiences plenty to gush over, rant about, and hope for.
I suppose I was expecting more from this film, though I don’t know why. It was buzz-worthy upon release but it hasn’t gone down in the annals of 90s movie must-sees. Maybe Brits and anglophiles will get more out of it, but I think it’s pretty clear throughout that Paltrow’s accent is phony. That and you can clearly tell where harsher swear words were over-dubbed in post-production to gain a more audience-friendly, PG-13 rating.
Calling Sliding Doors a failed experiment is unfair for three reasons. First, it was not the first film to dabble with simultaneous timelines. Second, it strikes me that the filmmakers never set out to make a philosophical, quantum physics-inducing film. Third, the story itself is enjoyable and entertaining. If you’re feeling like taking in something quirky and different, check it out. If you pass on it, it’s not the end of the world. At least not in this reality.
Of the Best Picture winners in the 1940s, this was one of the few that I had not heard of before starting my Oscar journey. I feared that the reason I hadn’t heard of it was because it suffered a similar fate as the 30s Best Picture winners no one ever mentions any more- it didn’t age well. Just the opposite happened, however. I was pleasantly surprised to find myself enjoying artfully-made thriller.
Based on a series of fictional stories run in British newspapers during the late 1930s, Mrs. Miniver focuses on the lives of a moderately well-to-do London couple (Greer Garson and Walter Pidgeon). As Hitler flexes his muscles throughout Europe, the Miniver’s find themselves drawn into a new normal where air raids are a constant possibility and sacrifices are expected of all good British citizens. Love, loss, fear, class separation, and more are all addressed within this film’s two-hour, 15 minute runtime.
It took me a very long time to determine a rating for this film. Given the right context and the proper appreciation for its beautiful cinematography, it’s easy to see why this film was cherished in its day. By 1942, America had been drawn into World War II and was sharing the physical, financial, and emotional burden of war with Europe. While American civilians were far removed from any real threat from the Axis powers, Mrs. Miniver gave them a lens through which to view the impossible task of living a normal life in the cross hairs.
For modern audiences, this brand of rugged determination and sacrifice in the name of nationalism will probably seem a little over-the-top at times. Cynics will view parts as bordering on propaganda (indeed, FDR had it rushed into US theaters for just such a purpose). I will admit to being nonplussed by some of these sequences. I am normally just cynical enough to balk at such content but I am also very passionate about contextualizing films in order to understand them better. Some of this content feels very dated but the passion the actors put into their roles is undeniable.
As the titular character, Garson carries the film on her back. The range of emotions that she delivers is no small task but she produces like a champ. No indication is given to us that her family members are safe from harm (unless, I suppose, you have read the newspaper stories). Indeed, danger is lurking around every corner as the war picks up. This uncertainty keeps the tension high in all the right places. It may not be a non-stop thrill ride, but it would be hard to suspend disbelief if it were.
As I mentioned before, it’s the cinematography that won me over with this film. Camera angles and lighting choices during the more harrowing moments keep this film from becoming just another outdated war-era film. There may come a time when audiences are too cynical to appreciate Mrs. Miniver, but that time is definitely not now.
At times, I have been extremely patient and generous to Disney animated films. I recognized little advancements and stylistic qualities amidst the monotonous package films of the 1940s. I accepted lackluster films such as The Sword in the Stone and The Black Cauldron as, at the very least, entertainment. This however, is the straw that breaks the camel’s back.
An adaptation of Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist (which I have not read), Oliver & Company is the story of an orphaned kitten (voiced by Joey Lawrence) looking for a home. Initially taken in by a petty thief named Fagin (Dom DeLuise) and his pets (voiced by Billy Joel, Cheech Marin and more), Oliver falls into the lap of luxury when a young rich girl named Jenny adopts him. Fagin’s loan shark boss (Robert Loggia) looks to exploit the situation for monetary gain, forcing Oliver and his friends to band together to protect Jenny, and each other, from danger.
This film is by no means a disaster. Children will more than easily plop down in front of the TV and take this in like candy. It’s got cute animal characters, funny antics, and songs. What’s not to like? First, there are a few too many characters, leaving most flat and forgettable. Second, the songs are all equally forgettable. Third, the animation is weaker than any of the films preceding it.
Disney probably thought they had a winner on their hands. They had the vocal talents of a bunch of stars popular with adults and all the cuteness needed from the animal characters to make kids want to see the film. Too bad it turned out to be style over substance. Given the films modern setting, I understand the decision to have Billy Joel, then one of the hottest songwriters around, do the music. The problem with going the ‘modern’ route with the music is that it all feels very dated now. The beauty of Disney’s best songs is that they possess a timeless quality. Oliver & Company is missing that.
By far, the worst element of this film is the animation. The main characters all look fine but the background images are a borderline abomination to the name Disney. There is little in the way of crisp lines, definition or depth. What’s left is a mish-mash of pastels running together in loosely-defined shapes. At times, the scenery reminded me of what the world looks like when I take my eyeglasses off. While I understand that Disney has every right to adjust and change their animation style over time, standards have been set for their animation quality over the years. Too much divergence from that standard is a bad thing.
Is this film still entertaining? Yes. It’s difficult to not enjoy a Disney film. Oliver & Company simply is not as enjoyable any of the films that came before it. With a plot that drags in places to help hide how thin it is, Disney commits the cardinal sin of cinema- it bores you at times. Add on top of this some dark content that might upset some youngsters and you have the first Disney film that is only ‘okay.’ They had an astounding 50-year run of good and great films, so it’s about time Disney stumbled.
Without question, Adolf Hitler was one of the most (if not the most) evil men ever to walk the Earth. Children in this and many other countries learn about his hate, prejudice, and atrocities in school. History and society have all but accepted a caricaturized depiction of Hitler and his fellow Nazi goons. Hollywood especially has benefited from this neat, easily-boxed version of the Third Reich. With this in mind, it becomes understandable why this German film made everyone so uneasy.
Based on a slew of auto-biographies, historical accounts and memoirs, Downfall follows a young woman named Traudl Humps (Alexandra Maria Lara) after being selected to be one of Adolf Hitler’s personal secretaries in 1942. Admiration for her employer and Führer has faded by 1945. Traudl finds herself cut off from the rest of the world, cooped up in the Führerbunker as Allied forces tear through Berlin. She and the rest of Hitler’s minions are forced to come to grips reality, leading to a variety of reactions.
After seeing this film, I am shocked that critics and industry types were hesitant to heap praise upon it. Were they really so naïve to think that praising a film that refuses to play to Hollywood’s stereotyping of Hitler and the Nazis would equate to praising or sympathizing with Hitler? My theory is this- the critics and the suits were too scared to be honest with us. Instead, we got carefully worded reviews that spent too much time explaining why they don’t like Hitler despite liking the film or throwing in their two cents on the dialogue about the humanity of Hitler that this films potentially calls into question.
This is a great film, plain and simple. Bruno Ganz is chilling in what is probably the greatest portrayal of Adolf Hitler of all time. He is fully committed to this role and it shows. The same can be said for Ulrich Matthes and Corinna Harfouch, who play Joseph and Magda Goebbels. Their sycophantic, unflinching loyalty to Hitler is unnerving to no end. They are so twisted and disturbing that I squirmed through many of their scenes, especially towards the end, where they put their loyalty to National Socialism above the lives of their children. Sickening is the only appropriate word.
The sets for this film are equally impressive. Scenes inside the bunker have a claustrophobic quality about them. This makes the audience feel every bit as stifled and cornered as the characters on screen when the bunker comes under attack or when Hitler goes off on a tirade. While no one every fully descends to the savagery of caged rats, it is evident from the bunker denizens’ faces that they’re never too far away from doing so. This is a testament to everyone involved with the production.
Does this film show Hitler as a real human being? Yes. Hitler is kind and compassionate to many of the innocent people working for him, like Traudl. The film does not hold back on Hitler’s stern and borderline psychotic handling of his military advisors and political underlings though. The end result is a broken, pathetic, feeble man clinging desperately to power and delusions of grandeur. That is far more unsettling than any caricature will ever be, making this a powerful film that I think everyone should see.
If you are looking for the kind of film that the whole family can watch with shared laughs, tears and warm fuzzies, consider your search over. Marley & Me hits almost everything right to entertain almost any family imaginable. It avoids virtually every pitfall plaguing the kids & family genre without resorting to crassness or sarcasm. In other words, this film is simply excellent.
After moving to Florida, John and Jenny Grogan (Owen Wilson and Jennifer Aniston) adopt a puppy to see if they’re ready for the responsibilities of parenthood. The dog, Marley, proves to be every bit a whirlwind as life itself. Through the years, and many ups and downs, Marley is the Grogan’s constant companion and provides John with material for his weekly column. The column and the dog both become objects of devotion, praise, scorn, and frustration as life passes by.
This film could have been incredibly tacky, cheesy and eye-roll inducing. Does it have a few predictable moments? Yes, but not as many as you might expect. The story itself is something that sounds dead-on like a Hallmark Channel movie of the week featuring second-rate talent creaking their way through a stiff but emotionally manipulative script. That Marley & Me is none of these things is incredibly refreshing.
Jennifer Aniston and Owen Wilson have wonderful chemistry and are acting well within their abilities. The writing (based on a true story) never strays too far out of the bounds of reality. It gets appropriately silly sometimes, which may not cater well to the cynical and uber-serious crowds, and matches the ebb and flow of real life pretty darn well. The restraint required to avoid cutesy clichés is hefty and I think it may even weigh on the pace just a bit.
One note of caution is that Marley & Me contains some mature content. Most of it will go over the heads of the youngest viewers but tweens and teens will understand it. There’s some implied sexuality and even an instance of skinny-dipping- pretty surprising stuff for a PG film. One thing I’m not crazy about is the swearing. Is it necessary to drop the s-bomb in a film marketed to young children? I think not. The cursing isn’t a deal breaker, though, because there is enough charm and heart in this film to move you past those few isolated incidents pretty quickly.
There’s nothing technically impressive about this film but Marley & Me is an absolute charmer. It’s emotionally honest about married life, parenthood, and pet ownership without resorting to forcing emotional cues. The issues faced within the reels aren’t sugar-coated or watered-down for easy consumption. While it may seem that this film caters toward dog-owners, it plays well to anyone who has ever owned a pet before. This is just part of the family-movie magic inherent to this film.
After the undelightful wash that was The Black Cauldron, Disney needed a win. They got one and then some with this charming play on Sherlock Holmes. Everything in the Disney mold comes out fresh and clean here- music, animation, and characters. In the annals of Disney animated films, The Great Mouse Detective could easily be labeled as one of the studio’s most under-appreciated works.
When her father is abducted, young Olivia Flaversham turns to Basil of Baker Street for help. The cocksure yet oftentimes oblivious sleuth accepts the task of finding the young girl’s father when he realizes the abduction is connected to the evildoings of his arch nemesis, Professor Ratigan. With the help of Dr. David Q. Dawson, Basil scours the streets and sewers of London in a desperate attempt to stop Ratigan once and for all.
If it hadn’t been for Cinderella and The Rescuers, you’d swear the Disney crew was crazy for using rats and mice as their main characters. They’re not normally likeable creatures but The Great Mouse Detective lives up to its titular superlative. Not once did I find myself rejecting the film because of the use of mice. Kudos to the source author, the writers, and the animators for creating a world where Basil and friends are not just believable, but acceptable too. I’m not very familiar with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s tales of Sherlock Holmes, but I found the character of Basil to be a breath of fresh air. It’s been far too long since a Disney character possessed the confidence and swagger Basil exudes. Granted, these qualities tend to get him in over his head but that’s part of the fun of it all.
Another thing this film has going for it is some terrific animation. The colors and crispness call to mind the Disney Renaissance of what most people recall as the 1990s. That renaissance actually started in 1989 with The Little Mermaid. Guess what film that production and animation team worked on prior to rejuvenating Disney animation? If you guessed The Great Mouse Detective, you must be paying attention. While there had been some animated-over CGI in The Black Cauldron, the CGI foundations are more noticeable here. The crème de la crème is the chase through the gears of Big Ben. CGI modeling gives that sequence a unique sense of depth beyond the screen unseen in prior Disney films.
There is something delightful about the music in this film. The title music comes at you fast and fierce. Well, fierce for an era- and location-appropriate film about crime-solving mice. The playful tones not only match the action, it accentuates the tension, action, and/or silliness occurring on screen. Disney has had great music in many of their films but that music usually comes in the form of songs. The Great Mouse Detective is fairly light on the songs but you wouldn’t know it by the strength of the incidental music. Avoiding too many songs is a blessing in disguise for this film because the story doesn’t really require song-and-dance numbers.
It may not have all the bells and whistles of Disney’s greatest animated tales, but The Great Mouse Detective is a marvel compared to the films filling the gap between it and The Jungle Book. I don’t mean to put them all down, because some of them had a few unique qualities to boast of. None of those films exude the same amount of magic as this charmer though. Incremental steps evidence progress in the other 80s Disney flicks but it feels like the all the creative departments hit their strides here. It’s a shame this film got stuck between two duds. Otherwise, it might be remembered by more people.
As a fan of Alfred Hitchcock’s films, I am amazed that he never won an Oscar for directing. This Best Picture winner, his first Hollywood film, makes up for the Academy’s mistake and offers a superb look back at the growing talent of one of cinema’s all-time greats. While it may not be remembered as fondly as his later work in Hollywood, Rebecca is a taut thriller that fires on all narrative and technical cylinders.
An unnamed woman (Joan Fontaine) narrates a tale of memories, love, and danger. Her early life as a paid companion for the rich and self-important Edythe Van Hopper (Florence Bates) is dull despite their many travels. Her life changes forever when she meets the dashing Maxim de Winter (Laurence Olivier). Despite recently becoming a widower, Maxim falls in love with the girl and they marry hastily. When Maxim brings his bride back to his family estate, called Manderley, the new Mrs. de Winter receives a cool reception from Mrs. Danvers, the housekeeper. Obsessed with her former mistress, Rebecca de Winter, Mrs. Danvers engages in unrelenting psychological torment to show her displeasure. This, compounded with the mysterious circumstances of Rebecca’s death, pushes the timid new Mrs. de Winter to the brink
By the end of this film, you may feel as if your brain is a yo-yo. Hitchcock and his filmmaking crew are constantly playing with the pace of the story. After getting taken off guard by the speed at which the unnamed main character and Maxim de Winter fall in love, the flow tapers off to accommodate the exposition necessary to introduce Manderley and its housekeeping staff. Mrs. Danvers’ game of cat-and-mouse with the new Mrs. de Winter provides plenty of false starts and genuine thrills. By the time the third reel rolls around, I was all but ready to be let off the ride. Sure enough, Hitchcock saves the best and biggest adrenaline plunge for last.
I am unsure where I stand on the story itself. While it happens, the pre-wedding romance feels too sudden, rushed and unlikely. It’s not until the payoff in the third reel where the events of the first reel become acceptable. You just don’t see this type of narrative styling anymore, which may make the film hard for some younger audiences to digest. I like that, at the end of the film, you are invited to think your way through the entire tale once more. It doesn’t command a second viewing per se, but Rebecca is the kind of film that changes after the first time you watch it. The first time through, your time is spent absorbing the details and information. A second viewing affords you the opportunity to marvel at the little details scattered about that only made sense at the end of your first viewing.
The danger of this film is that it does not fit the 50s and 60s Hitchcock formula. If you come into this film expecting that kind of payoff, you may find yourself confused. I know I was. Having seen several Hitchcock classics and the works of those who emulate him, I felt like I knew what to expect and, for a while, this attitude had me enjoying this film less than it deserved. All that was reversed when the film took another direction entirely. My mind was sufficiently blown and all respect was restored. Not all credit can be given to the director though. This is an adaptation of a novel, so kudos to the original writer are in order. But, a little research shows that the Production Code of the time required the story to be altered slightly, which actually improves the ending if you ask me.
This is a film that does just about everything right. Overexposure to the suspense and thriller sub-genres water down some of Rebecca’s impact, but there is no denying the powerhouse performances of the main characters. Laurence Olivier effortlessly runs the gamut of emotions, Joan Fontaine is perfectly naïve and high-strung, and Judith Anderson crafts one of the most psychologically twisted villains in big screen history. Add on top of this the cinematography (including some deep focus shots) and editing, and you’ve got a real winner. To think that Hitchcock got even better than this is awe-inspiring.
I can’t speak for everyone out there but I think that most of you will be able to feel better about your family life after seeing this film. Featuring almost every potential parental conundrum of the 1980s, Parenthood is an interesting pill to swallow. Director Ron Howard delivers a kind of flipside to the John Hughes 80s teen coming-of-age flick with a look at the parents of the 80s- those poor souls who grew up in the idyllic 60s and 70s that must now deal with their Hughesian archetypal children and the insanity of the 80s.
What happens to Baby Boomers who grow up hating their parents, determined to never turn out like them? Why, they become just like them of course! This is the dilemma facing Gil Buckman (Steve Martin), a sales executive who is slowly coming to terms with the fact that he is every bit as distant and detached from his son as his own father was from him. But Gil’s not the only member of the Buckman clan with issues. His sister Helen (Dianne West) is single mother of two forced to deal with her daughter’s pregnancy and her son’s emotional issues. His other sister, Susan (Harley Kozak) is married to a control freak (Rick Moranis) who’s trying to force prodigious ability from their young daughter. Then there is Larry (Tom Hulce), the black sheep of the family who only comes back home when he needs help paying back gambling debts and business deals gone wrong.
Talk about your family reunions from hell, right? To be fair, there is at least one rational-minded member of the Buckman family. Susan is perfectly normal; she just married a guy with issues. Unfortunately, she gets very little of the focus in this film. Her contributions do help balance things out as a sort of voice of reason, but the rest of the film whips you around from one face-palming scenario to another. Maybe some families out there are really like this. I know my fair share of eccentric clans but this one hits a few too many crisis points for me to fully swallow it.
Maybe all the drama pumped into this film was over the top when it hit theaters. Maybe my skepticism is a byproduct of growing up in a post-Hughes film world. Whatever the cause, I, and I’m sure others, doubt the likelihood of so many issues plaguing one family. Kudos to the writers for doing their best to maintain a sense of balance amidst all of the characters in this film. Major props also go their way for keeping each character consistent throughout the film but also finding room for (almost) everyone to grow.
There is also some very solid acting in this film. Keanu Reeves plays the same kind of character he portrays in all his films up until The Matrix, but just about everyone else does a good job of coming off as authentic as possible. Savvy viewers will note a young Joaquin Phoenix in the mix, doing a fine job as a troubled child of divorce. The adults and children alike are all on top of their game. The only trouble is that Parenthood is fine when broken down into individual performance but, as a sum of its parts, it feels overloaded.
Steve Martin fans might come away feeling underwhelmed by this film. It ranks among his blandest offerings in the 80s. He still puts on a little pop and sizzle where it counts though, generating the most non-situational humor Parenthood has to offer. This is a film that does its best to cover everything at once while trying to be as inoffensive as possible. None other than Ron Howard could have pulled off that feat.
The MPAA rating for this film pretty much says it all- PG. PG? A Disney animated film? Really? Watching this film, the rating makes perfect sense but you have to wonder what the Disney crew was thinking. The fantasy genre has always been kind to the House of Mouse but for all its light, fluffy components, The Black Cauldron gets so dark at times that it is no longer recognizable as a Disney film.
Taran is a young assistant pig-keeper in a faraway land. His life changes dramatically one day when the sorcerer Dallban orders him to protect a magical pig. The Horned King seeks the pig because its powers as an oracle will lead him to the legendary Black Cauldron. If the Horned King succeeds in acquiring the cauldron, he will raise an army of undead warriors to destroy all those who oppose his ruthless will. When Taran fails to keep the pig from the Horned King’s minions, he sets out to reclaim the pig and defeat the Horned King if necessary. His path is beset by danger on all sides but a cast of colorful characters help him along his quest.
This is a very strange blend of ridiculously cheesy and dark fantasy. The film is adapted from the first two books in a fantasy series that I’ve never even heard of before. While the source material may have won a few awards back in the 1960s, whatever magic the pages held didn’t make the transfer to film. Maybe if I knew more about Welsh mythology the names wouldn’t all seem so outlandish and silly.
Taran is a fairly milquetoast fantasy lead and his only special quality is his determination. His success is largely due to the people and things around him. This kind of overly lucky hero archetype never sits well with me. Then of course there is Princess Eilonwy, whose appearance looks like an amalgamation of the costumes and features of the best Disney Princesses. The Horned King is menacing and frightening to look at, but his motivation in finding the Black Cauldron is pretty thin and recycled. Maybe it’s the current era’s effect on me, but I need my villains to be more complex than simply trying to take over the world.
The saving grace of this film is the animation. It’s complex, rich in detail and even stunning at times. For such a strange world, the animating staff really creates some immersive work here. That makes it all the more of a shame that this film get dark to the point of being un-Disney. I can appreciate the animation but after 24 films, Disney has crafted a very specific ‘type’ for its products and The Black Cauldron does not fit that type.
Fantasy fans and anglophiles may be more into this film than I am; I don’t know if it was marketed towards any specific demographic. What I do know is that this film could easily stain the reputation of Disney in the minds of unsuspecting parents. There is a reason why this, Disney’s first PG-rated film has been all but forgotten about. Despite my displeasure with some of the 1940s package films, the dark nature of this film makes it the least enjoyable Disney film as of its release in 1985.
Capturing both the physical beauty and social ugliness that makes up the African continent, Blood Diamond is a traditional heavyweight drama. Its goal is not to entertain but to captivate and illuminate. Exposing the dark corners of the diamond trade that most people are ignorant to or choose not to acknowledge, this film ties big business, organized crime and human drama all into one.
When his village is destroyed by rebels, Solomon Vandy (Djimon Hounsou) is torn apart from his wife an children and forced to work in a rebel-owned diamond mine. When the Sierra Leonean Army attacks the rebels, Vandy escapes knowing the whereabouts of a massive pink diamond. Vandy crosses paths with Danny Archer (Leonardo DiCaprio), a Zimbabwean diamond smuggler with powerful connections. Their relationship is shaky at best and, with the help of an American journalist (Jennifer Connelly), they set out to retrieve the diamond before anyone else can as well as Vandy’s son, who has been forced to join the rebel army.
The above paragraph is actually a pretty poor description of the entire plot of this film. The three central characters are operating on a grander scale than I can put into one paragraph. Colonialism, capitalism, barbarism, and humanitarianism all interplay in Blood Diamond. With all that’s going on, the film can’t help but get bogged down in the intricate weaving of plot details. While the diamond is the focus from 30,000 feet, this film is more like a collection of smaller conflicts, internal and external.
While DiCaprio is the star of the film, Connelly is its conscience and Hounsou is its heart. The combination of DiCaprio’s hard-nosed determination, Connelly’s lectures about the evils of the diamond trade, and Hounsou’s intense emotional roller coaster, this film will leave you feeling mentally and physically exhausted. Is it rewarding though? Pre-credit text encourages audiences with the fact that a super-minority of diamonds come from such entities since conferences between the diamond powerhouses in the 1990s. That either leaves you feeling a little warmer inside or it enables you to distance yourself from the events of the film.
The one thing that bugs me throughout the film is DiCaprio’s accent. It’s bad enough that his youthful looks make it hard to believe him as a seasoned smuggler, but his never-consistent accent is distracting as all get-out. They needed someone of DiCaprio’s pedigree and popularity to anchor the film and secure audiences but, just as I have issues with Americans playing British roles, there’s just something off about having him play an African white man.
While it may be a little too much to take in at one time, Blood Diamond is a very good film. The locations look sharp and Hounsou’s performance is wonderful. One might think this film was intended as Oscar bait but I disagree. This was a film made by people who appreciate the true dramas of old. It won’t likely become one of your favorites, and you may not even feel the urge to watch it a second time, but one viewing is certainly worthwhile.
I always feel awkward when reviewing Christian-themed films. As a believer, I like seeing films with good morals and lessons. These elements are found throughout secular cinema but not in a faith-driven way. Sadly, most Hollywood films oversimplify religious characters either as naïve goody-goodies or hypocrites full of fire and brimstone. A rare find is the thinking-man’s Christian film. Letters to God is most definitely not that film and, frankly, works against any progress Christian studios have made in recent years.
Eight year old Tyler Doherty (Tanner Maguire) struggles to fight off cancer and writes letters to God as a coping mechanism. These letters fall into the hands of an alcoholic mailman named Brady (Jeffrey Johnson). At first, he is amused by the devotion of ‘the sick kid on his route’ but as he reads Tyler’s letters, he begins to care for the boy and helps out the family when he can. Tyler’s mom (Robyn Lively), brother (Michael Bolten), and his best friend (Bailey Madison) help keep Tyler’s spirit bright while Bradey comes to grips with his own life and spirituality.
My biggest gripe about Christian cinema is that it is almost always presents Christian life in an unrealistic manner that is eagerly spoon-fed to those already fervent in their beliefs. True to form, Letters to God provides little or no approach vector for someone who is not an overzealous evangelical or willing to suspend their disbelief even further just because it’s a Christian film. There’s also the ‘based on a true story’ setup to amplify things even though research reveals (as it does a majority of the time) that this film is very loosely based on a true story.
Two things are propping this film up. First, the filmmakers know who their audience is and they accordingly milk it for all its worth. For this very specific minority of the population, Letters to God is a home run. Second, I like the concept of this film. Child with cancer helps everyone around him find the bigger meaning of it all? That’s pretty cool. If only the technical aspects of the film didn’t suck.
The writing is cheesy and horribly awkward at times. Shots linger on for longer than necessary. There are countless Christian movie clichés crammed into the reels. None of the actors except Maguire make their characters feel organic and believable. Elements of the story are preposterous (all the interconnectedness of nearly every major and supporting character in the film), creepy (who lets the mailman play with their kids?), or far too convenient.
Christian filmmakers continue to complain that they are not taken seriously. It’s true, but if they’re not willing to do anything about it, then Christian films will always be low-budget affairs reminiscent of bad Hallmark Channel movies. I almost want to call this film polarizing but that’s not the right word for it. Even if you dislike Letters to God, it’s not bad enough to hate. Or, if you’re like me, you’ll find yourself rooting for this film to be better than you know it’s going to turn out to be.
The specter of Don Bluth is still evident in some of the tone and atmospherics but this is clearly a step in the right direction for Disney. At least that’s what I call The Fox and the Hound. Some will consider it a step back toward the artistic stylings of an era long gone. In a way, it is, but in doing so, Disney manages to inject a little of the old Disney magic back into the veins.
After a gunshot makes a baby fox an orphan, several woodland creatures search for a suitable home. Left on the doorstep of Widow Tweed, the baby fox is adopted and given a name- Tod. Meanwhile her scruffy neighbor brings home a young puppy to be trained into a hunting dog. So begins the tale of Tod (the fox- voiced by Mickey Rooney) and Topper (the hound- voiced by Kurt Russell), two natural-born enemies that become the unlikeliest of friends. The bonds of friendship are tested though, by instinct, time, and the expectations placed on them by their owners.
Yes, I’m going to rave a little bit more about the animation. It really looks sharp. Not just good, but some of the best full-detail animation since The Jungle Book. It looks like they finally managed to get rid of those pesky guide- and sketch lines that drove me crazy through two decades of Disney product. There’s crispness in the colors and depth to the scenery that really make you feel deep in the heart of the woods.
In something of a bold move, The Fox and the Hound does not include songs. While this flies against the archetypal (I refuse to apply the term ‘stereotype’ here) Disney format, it works because the story doesn’t really demand musical numbers. Disney had been hit or miss with the inclusion and exclusion of song and lyrics for the best part of 20 years. Some films could have used less (or more work on the numbers) while other films leave you feeling very aware of the absence of music. This film works though because the sounds of the forest are its soundtrack. Plus, as it grows darker and more serious, sing-songy bits would feel out of place.
One absolute point of contention is the flimsiness of the story. The characters are likeable more for the fact that they are cute animals than for anything they do, say, or learn. There also exists a fairly brazen anti-hunting message being delivered. It may never get preachy about the subject matter but there is no doubt that the hunter is a villain according to the Disney crew. That’s a slightly subjective position to take but I believe the observation is as objective as can be.
Plenty of good things are in play in this film. It’s a trim 83 minutes long, so it doesn’t overstay its welcome. It hearkens back to the glory days of Disney, when he animation was vibrant, lush, and legitimized Walt Disney’s goal of getting animation to be taken seriously as an art form. Too simple a story is the downfall here but even that doesn’t hurt it too badly. Parents and children can all watch this film and enjoy it as a solid second-tier Disney flick.
Nowadays, the ‘when worlds collide’ comedy setup has all but lost its luster. It’s been played out in just about every possible permutation across just about every demographic group. While this now-tired film convention has made many a moviegoer cynical and detached from the antic within the reels, there’s a magic present in its early incarnations that still manages to bring a smile to faces everywhere. Such is the case with You Can’t Take It with You.
Alice Sycamore (Jean Arthur) is madly in love with her employer’s son, Tony Kirby (James Stewart). Tony reciprocates her feelings and their world is hunky dory. The only snag is that they come from two very different families. The rest of the Sycamore clan, and their live-in friends, are nothing less than eccentric. Tony’s family is a bunch of stiff, well-to-do elitists who don’t believe in marrying below their privileged station in life. Sparks fly and hilarity ensues when the Sycamore’s and the Kirby’s finally meet.
I don’t think I’ve been disappointed yet by a Jimmy Stewart film. He and Jean Arthur are simply adorable in this film. They share the kind of chemistry that Hollywood classics are made of. Arthur’s relationship with her bizarro family is equally seamless. The film could probably use a little more interaction between the easy-going Tony and his highbrow parents. Is he as whimsical around his folks as he is around Alice? If so, the shock value of the Sycamore’s wouldn’t be as exaggerated as it is, though it would certainly raise the eyebrows of just about any parent.
As enjoyable as this film may be, the word ‘adorable’ keeps popping into my mind. It applies easily to many aspects of the film: Alice’s Grandpa (Lionel Barrymore) and his simplistic worldview, the optimism of the Sycamore clan, the love between Tony and Alice, the trajectory of the film itself even works in adorable ways. That creates a problem for me. Great films go beyond adorable.
I can’t tell if it’s the jadedness that comes from being exposed to these polar opposites coming together kinds of tales or if it’s the lack of much technical whizbangery that holds this film back for me. I’d like to say the latter but the former is always a possibility. In many ways, my generation is blessed and cursed with the period of films we grew up on. We’re blessed by ever-increasing technical advancements but we’re cursed because everything we’ve grown up watching is in some way derivative of films no one really watches anymore.
Fortunately, quaint films like You Can’t Take It with You remind us that the Hollywood hits of today have a solid foundation underneath them. I won’t make any promises as to how much you may laugh at this classic comedy (let’s face it, some of you out there are so cynical it’s scary!) but I can say with some confidence that this film will, at the very least, make you smile. Even if you try to thwart me by remaining as stern as possible throughout it, I think the charm and magic of this film will finds a way to win you over.
At one time, I’m sure that grade school history books mentioned the name Emile Zola, if not then certainly the Dreyfus Affair. But with two world wars amidst a century of Western and American development, the subject matter of this early Oscar winner no longer exists in the recesses of audience’s minds. While it may have been fresh and riveting back in the day, The Life of Emile Zola feels more like the stiff, performance-focused biopics of today that are offered up as Oscar bait more so than for box office returns.
In his early days, Émile Zola (Paul Muni) ekes out a bohemian lifestyle in the heart of Paris with his friend and artist Paul Cézanne (Vladimir Sokoloff). Upon meeting a prostitute evading the police, the aspiring writer makes her his muse and writes a salacious and popular novel. As Zola becomes the voice of the people, he loses his desire to ‘fight the good fight’ and grows complacent as a wealthy and respected writer. Many years later, a chance encounter with his old friend emboldens Zola to take on the task of fighting the injustice of the Dreyfus Affair, in which a French soldier (played by Joseph Schildkraut) is falsely accused of being a spy only because he is Jewish.
I can see how the content of this film won favor with the Academy and Hollywood in general. What’s not to like about fighting injustice, especially when it involves corrupt government officials and antisemitism? The true-story aspect of it is just icing on the cake. The trouble is that, in the decades since this film’s release (and the century since Zola made his stand), America has seen enough rights fights and political shenanigans that 19th century European scandals have lost their appeal.
In theory, this fact shouldn’t take anything away from The Life of Émile Zola. Taken for the piece of cinema that it is, Zola shows signs of creakiness in its structure. The film makes the fatal error of many modern biopics and puts too much focus on the titular character. Paul Muni does a very good job, particularly in his four-and-a-half minute long extended take monologue before the French courts. Schildkraut won a Supporting Actor Oscar for little more than looking exhausted, which surprised me. The only other supporting player to make a dent in my memory is Gale Sondergaard as Dreyfus’s wife. Her passion and desperate pleas for help clearing her husband’s name are powerful, though a smidge overdone.
Herein lies the problem, for all the social justice elements fueling the drama (though the film never directly tackles the issue of French antisemitism), The Life of Émile Zola is a one-man show. The cynic in me thinks it served as little more than a star-vehicle for Muni to get a little more attention. He had already been making waves for his supporting and lead performances and was fresh off an Oscar win for The Story of Louis Pasteur. Might the studio have been looking to make him the first two-time and first back-to-back winner for Best Actor? I t wouldn’t surprise me in the least.
Unlike many of the older films I have watched, Zola actually does play in to the generalization that older films have a sluggish pace. The film drags in many places, making its runtime feel quite a bit longer than two hours. If you’re big on European history or social justice, this might be worth your while. Otherwise you can freely pass up on this winner from yesteryear because its polish has been lost with age.
In just eight years, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences’ top prize has gone to just about every major film genre of the era. With the crowning of The Great Ziegfeld as the ninth ever official winner for Best Picture, the Academy ushered into its ranks what has come to be a time-honored tradition of awards season- the biopic. Cynics may argue that this film is a sappy example of Hollywood’s self-loving of all things showbiz. Hindsight isn’t always 20/20 though, because, while the story may not be riveting by modern standards, this little gem holds plenty of acting, writing, and technical prowess to be worthy of its place in Oscar history.
As a young man, Florenz (Flo) Ziegfeld (William Powell) sets out to make it in show business, much to the chagrin of his music professor father. Over the years, Flo finds himself in constant competition with fellow promoter Jack Billings (Frank Morgan). From carnival attractions to singers to Broadway musicals, Flo always finds his way on top. Determined to be a game-changer in entertainment, Flo’s lifelong quest to be an American original has many ups and downs both personally and professionally.
At first this seems like quite a daunting film to take in. At over three hours long (including the overture and entr'acte), this is still one of the ten longest Oscar winners of all time. Your time will be rewarded though, and how! There is something for aficionados of every branch of filmmaking to appreciate here and even general audiences who don’t normally care to spot the little details will have a good time. Does it drag a little bit? Yes, particularly in the second act, when we see more of Flo’s personal troubles. That might make some people squirm a little bit but if you are wise enough to take a break between acts, you should have little trouble managing it.
Many of the sets are glorious in detail and (at times) impressive in scope. Choreography and blocking prove to be stunning feats if you take time to consider the logistics of the large-cast sequences. And what film about an early titan of Broadway would be complete without including the songs that took him to prominence? A few new numbers are added as well, all of which are delightful. For me though, the icing on the cake is the use of extended takes. Several of them exist but the granddaddy of them all occurs just before the entr'acte. It’s actually two extended takes edited together so seamlessly that you’d swear it was one ridiculously intricate 5-minute sequence. This scene single-handedly bounced this film up a notch into my ‘great’ range.
Tying the film together are the writing and performances. Anytime a film includes crisp one-liners and charm, it’s natural to credit the actors first. William Powell has a Clark Gable-esque presence as Flo Ziegfeld. He’s charismatic but authentic, a far cry from the morally ambiguous aura currently demanded from the biopic genre. Behind all the wit and charm lies some powerful writing. If you consider the length of The Great Ziegfeld, it’s all the more impressive that a writer can sustain all those magical qualities. Granted, it’s up to the actors to infuse those words with all the necessary pizazz to make the film watchable, but without a firm foundation, performances are nothing.
As much as I appreciate this film, I understand that it will not be everyone’s cup of tea. It’s not a musical in the way musical fans will expect. If you’re looking for an early Singin’ in the Rain, you’ll be out of luck. The musical numbers are all within the context of Ziegfeld shows. Old but not creaky, dated but still aging well, The Great Ziegfeld is a joyous blend of romance, drama, style and substance. If you find yourself in a position to take in this all but forgotten about Oscar winner, I recommend you do so.
Maybe it’s because it won Best Picture at the Oscars. Maybe it’s because it was so darn difficult to track down a copy. Whatever the reason, I think I came into this film expecting too much. Instead of a rousing through-the-years drama, Cavalcade turns out to be more like Cimarron for stuffy, upper-class Brits.
Beginning on New Year’s Eve of 1899, the Marryot family is living high on the hog. They’ve got a team of servants, two strapping young boys, and a very nice position among upper class London. The 20h Century offers more than they could have ever expected, as the family finds themselves intimately connected to several key historical events. The Second Boer War, the death of the Queen, the sinking of the Titanic, World War I, and beyond- yes the Marryot family sees it all as the cavalcade of years passes them by.
My initial reaction to this film is that many of the scenes feel very stagey. Sure enough, Cavalcade is based on a popular Noël Coward play from earlier in the decade. That explains the rigidity and plethora of static shots. I would assume that plays were being converted into films quite regularly in this time period to capitalize on popularity and mass appeal. The detail in the sets and costumes is certainly commendable.
The trouble lies in that these details don’t need to be quite so painfully exacting to build up the illusion in a film. Interesting characters and a good story are what drive film. The main characters haven’t aged well for modern audiences, so it’s up to the supporting cast to spice things up. As far as the story goes, it lacks any central conflict or purpose. It’s simply a series of vignettes progressing in chronological order. The only thing tying it all together is the Marryot family. At least with Cimarron there was the subtle plot of taming the wilderness of the American frontier hiding in the background.
I can see why this film won Best Picture (though I haven’t seen any of its competition yet). In 1933, some of the events covered in this film were still somewhat fresh in the minds of the industry bigwigs making up the Academy. This, on top of the popular stage play, probably gave it enough populist appeal to make it a no-brainer pick for the Oscar.
Unfortunately for Cavalcade, it has not aged as well as some of the other early Oscar winners. Static shots and a barely-existent plot make for a boring film by today’s standards. The sets are quite good and there are a few scenes that are large in scope but a few sprinkles can’t mask its decidedly vanilla flavor. Appreciable as it may be for what it is, I would steer you away from this film unless you are making a point, like me, to watch every single Oscar winner for Best Picture.
I remember loving to listen to the story of The Rescuers as a child on one of those Disney read-along books with the cassette tape that jingled when it was time to turn the page. I also recall adoring the sequel to this film, The Rescuers Down Under. You can imagine my surprise when, after taking this film in for the first time in ages, I found I did not like this film very much. Sure, it passes the Disney litmus test of likeable characters, a good story, and plenty of morals and lessons, but I find fault with its underwhelming animation.
In the heart of Devil’s Bayou, a little orphan named Penny sends for help via message in a bottle. This message reaches the Rescue Aid Society, an international assembly of mice determined to make a difference in the world. The lovely Miss Bianca (voiced by Eva Gabor) and her awestruck new partner Bernard (voiced by Bob Newhart) set out on a mission to save the poor girl from the clutches of the vile Madame Medusa and her nefarious cohorts.
The story is fine, though it rockets by quite quickly (even for a Disney film). The problem here is the animation. I hate to sound like a broken record but Disney botched most of its animated films through the 60s and 70s with lower-quality animation techniques. Thankfully, the xerographic technique seems to be improving because there aren’t anywhere near as many sketch lines running through the characters this time. Unfortunately, the animation here is some of the flattest in Disney history. Instead of detailed backgrounds that move with the characters like a real environment, many times The Rescuers involves static (but well drawn) storybook-like backdrops over which very two-dimensional characters moved. I find the lack of depth disconcerting. Rather than moving through space, characters simply move across the screen.
From researching the history of Walt Disney and the studio’s successes and struggles after his passing, I know that animator Don Bluth had once worked for Disney before defecting to make his own studio (and taking a number of young Disney animators with him). Within the first minute of this film, Don Bluth’s influence is felt heavily- the darker tones, a more ethereal and blended color palette, and minimal lines separating elements and characters on the screen. It all looks interesting, and works quite well with Don Bluth’s independently-made films, but it just doesn’t resemble a Disney film.
Maybe I’m biased because I grew up during the Disney Renaissance. Those films and the early films are the best stuff Disney Studios ever made. I can see how this totally different art direction seemed like a good shot to the arm at the time but I don’t think Disney could have sustained such moody atmospherics in films geared towards children. Breaking away from the formula can be a good thing (they certainly seemed stuck in something of a stylistic rut for a while) but The Rescuers diverges away from the “Disney formula” so much that it feels un-Disney.
Am I becoming some kind of obsessive Disney purist? Gosh, I hope not. I just can’t help but feel that this film is a tad too violent (yet corny at times as well- go figure!) and stylistically different from everything else I know to be a Disney product. I love the characters of Bernard and Bianca and their budding romance is cute to watch. Aside from this occasional cuteness, the film leaves me feeling on edge. Fortunately, Don Bluth and Disney would only share their awkward relationship partway into their next film.
I grew up watching Winnie the Pooh cartoons every Saturday morning as a kid. I remember loving the characters and adventures they embarked on. Watching this original animated collaboration was quite an interesting experience to say the least. Of all the Disney animated films I have watched on this journey from Snow White to present day, The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh elicited the most jarring reaction in me from an adult’s perspective yet.
This film is actually three pre-existing Disney shorts: Winnie the Pooh and the Honey Tree, Winnie the Pooh and the Blustery Day, and Winnie the Pooh and Tigger Too. The shorts are laced together with new segue sequences. Each segment features Winnie the Pooh and his friends on a new journey with lessons to be learned.
Each of the three animated shorts is enjoyable in their own right. The animation is consistent throughout, so it’s not like you can tell that Tigger Too is almost a decade newer than Honey Tree. Kudos to Disney for that. I also find the storybook animation and what they do with it adorable. Like Disney films of old, Pooh opens with live action scenery, including the opening of a storybook. Instead of transferring into just an animated world, we journey across pages with Pooh and his friends. There is interaction with the writing on the pages and hopping between page illustrations. It’s clever and works perfectly for the story material.
Another bold move is the breaking of the fourth wall. The narrator interacts with Pooh and friends and the characters also make their own sly quips directly to the audience. Children and adults will enjoy this because it’s rarely done in animated films. More importantly, it’s done right. Breaking the fourth wall can completely take someone out of the film, so it’s a dangerous move. It works here because the characters are innocent and likeable.
One thing that I was taken aback by is how irritating and rude Winnie the Pooh is. He’s referred to as being a little on the slow side but since when is that an excuse for being a shameless mooch? He gets hungry and discovers he’s eaten all of his own food so he invites himself inside his friends’ houses to eat theirs without allowing them any time to object. Maybe I’m making a mountain out of a molehill but it seems that the one crucial lesson going unlearned here is that Pooh needs to be more considerate of others.
In the end, Winnie the Pooh and his friends prove to be too likeable to get hung up over character flaws. Was Disney being just a wee bit lazy by throwing three preexisting shorts together? Yes and it comes back to bite them in the end, if only slightly. The slow and delicate pacing works great when you take each short individually but it drags a bit when showing them back-to-back-to-back. Even though it clocks in at only 74 minutes long, The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh feels one adventure too long.
With a few previous films using British folklore and fiction proving successful, Walt Disney Studios get its anglophilia on once more. In an unconventional but kid-friendly approach, the Disney crew tells the tale of Robin Hood and his merry men with anthropomorphic animal characters. With a solid story as its backbone and a little musical flair, this film gets an extra boost in my book from a little thing called childhood nostalgia.
The vain and money-hungry Prince John is taxing the people of England to no end. In the village of Nottingham, two men (or in this case, animals) dare to stand up against tyranny. Robin Hood and Little John find ways to steal from Prince John and give back to the poor what was taken from them. Their mission ruffles the feathers of the cruel sheriff of Nottingham and gains the support of many of the village’s denizens.
I have to be honest- I’m pretty sure that I rated this film higher than it deserves. I grew up watching this film and I have quite the sizable soft spot in my heart for it. I try to avoid subjectivity when rating a film but every once in a while I just can’t help myself.
There are a few things that Robin Hood has going for it. First, it’s anchored by a classic tale of fighting injustice. Second, it’s got a stellar soundtrack. Even after 20 animated films, Disney still boils down to animation and music. Most moviegoers don’t focus too heavily on the quality of the animation, so the music really matters. Which Disney films are the least well-remembered? By jove, it would be the ones that lack memorable songs! Coincidence? I think not.
While most moviegoers don’t consider the animation quality, I do. This is where I fear nostalgia has given this film a boost. The animation quality is better than The Aristocats in that there are fewer distracting sketch lines from the xerographic technique, but it may also be a bit worse in that there is little to no richness in background detail. It looks very much like a flat world, but not enough like a storybook to suggest an intentional creative artistic direction.
One thing that can go either way (depending on how picky you are with your Disney films) is the character of Little John. He’s drawn almost exactly like Baloo from The Jungle Book and is voiced by the same actor. This fails to bother me at all because I grew up loving this film. Perhaps that is the key to your opinion on his film. If you grew up with it, you’ll probably be more forgiving like me. If not, you might think I’ve rated it a notch too high. I fear the latter may be the case but I’m not entirely sure.
It’s hard to say what the Disney studio was going for with this film. Handpicked by Walt Disney before he died, The Aristocats probably should have been better than it turns out to be. With The Jungle Book as its predecessor, I was prepared to cut this film a little slack; the studio always struggled to put together back-to-back great films. All the Disney hallmarks are present, but the total package leaves me feeling like a victim of re-gifting.
Duchess and her three kittens live in the lap of early 20th Century Parisian luxury. Their owner, Madame Adelaide, loves them so much that she makes them her main heirs in her will. Enraged at her decision, Edgar (her butler) hatches a plan to dispose of the cats, leaving him to inherit Madame’s fortune. Waking up in the middle of the French countryside, Duchess and her kittens rely on the kindness of strangers to find their way home. Along the way they encounter a number of colorful cats who call the streets of Paris their playground.
Let’s not mince words- several times during this film I felt like I was watching One Hundred and One Dalmatians with cats. The urban European setting, the jazz music score, the human bad guy trying to kill the animal good guys plot, and the other animals helping to save the day. It honestly has a lot of similar components. Is it a complete retread? No. There are plot differences and a variety of unique and different characters. That subtle sense of the familiar creeps in on you throughout the film though, reducing the enjoyment slightly.
Another aspect that’s all too familiar here is the dirty looking xerographic system used to generate the final animation cells. Seeing the sketch and source lines inside what should be a solid object is getting old and I’m surprised that Disney couldn’t figure out a way to improve upon this in 10 years. The art direction compounds the problem. There’s more definition to objects than there was in One Hundred and One Dalmatians but much of the background elements can be reduced to a few choice shades from one color group or another. Maybe it was considered a smart, modernist look for Disney in the post-Beat and mid-counterculture era. Nowadays it just looks sloppy and leaves me yearning for the lush visuals of Disney’s first golden era.
Lest this review sound exceedingly negative for the rating given, The Aristocats is not a bad film. I think it plays to younger audiences more so than to general audiences, which creates problems. Sure, kids will love watching the playful antics of Duchess’s kittens but I think the adults in the crowd will be bothered by the subtle and not-so-subtle similarities with an older and better film, technically speaking.
If nothing else, The Aristocats has a cute, albeit familiar, story and some fun music. Two songs (“Thomas O’Malley Cat” and “Ev’rybody Wants to Be a Cat”) are memorable, which isn’t bad following The Jungle Book’s jam-packed soundtrack of hits. It’s not the best product Disney’s ever produced but it’s also not much better than some of the package films from the 40s. That is definitely a setback for the House of Mouse.
Cancer is one of the few subjects that are hard to make funny. It’s an energy-sapping, life-taking disease that brings nothing but sadness to the victim and their loved ones. Hollywood has tackled the daunting task of livening up terminal illness before but The Bucket List possesses a very specific trajectory. Once again, trailers promise us the stars but the full-length film doesn’t provide quite the shine audiences may be expecting or hoping for.
When wealthy health care tycoon Edward Cole (Jack Nicholson) is diagnosed with terminal lung cancer he just wants to be alone. Instead, he shares a hospital room with Carter Chambers (Morgan Freeman), a former auto mechanic. At first cynically amused by Chambers’ optimism, Cole aims to help his roommate realize his ‘bucket list’- the things he would like to do before he dies. Spending Cole’s money like kids in a candy shop, the two men set out on a globetrotting road trip to make the most of life while they still can.
One thing this film has in droves is chemistry. Freeman and Nicholson are two of Hollywood’s living legends and their collective acting prowess is on display in this film. The script caters to both men’s perceived types: Nicholson is sarcastic, witty and just a wee bit angry at the world; Freeman is the likeable straight man whose honesty is endearing and sense of humor is subtle but always perfectly-timed. They feed off each other like seasoned veterans of the big screen ought to.
Looking at it from 30,000 feet, The Bucket List is a bit clichéd and convenient. It’s yet another upper-class meets lower-class buddy film in which the rich guy gains an understanding and appreciation for the ‘little guys.’ As good as Nicholson and Freeman are, you can’t hide the convenience in teaming up with a super-rich guy to live out a few dreams. If you’re of the crass and cynical sector of moviegoers, this is how you’ll probably see the film.
If you don’t mind a retooled plot now and again, the worst thing you can say about this film is that it’s not as funny as it was hyped up to be. Nicholson has the ability to leave you in stitches when he isn’t indulging himself with dark roles. Freeman has always been able to make crowds smile and laugh in the right roles as well. Perhaps it’s the subject matter or the script that does the film in.
Much of the antics look like a lot of fun but could they feel too familiar to achieve maximum effect? Or is the weight of their cancer affliction too heavy a burden to allow us to fully enjoy their embracing of life? It’s hard to put my finger on it but I think it may have something to do with knowing a downer ending looms on the horizon no matter what comedy hijinks come our way. It allows us to guard ourselves from becoming emotionally attached to these characters, a critical element of any story. Yes, I think that must be it. The Bucket List is a pretty decent movie but your conscience might prevent you from having as good a time as the filmmakers aim for.
Edwin Schrödinger is famous for proposing a thought experiment involving a cat locked in a windowless room with some poison. His quantum mechanics brethren argue that, reality being based on our subjective observations, until one opens the door to the room, two realities actually exist: the cat is both dead from eating the poison and alive from not eating the poison. The option you perceive to be true when you open the door determines the fate of the cat. This principle comes into play during Sliding Doors, which could have also been called Schrödinger’s Chick Flick.
