Favorite movies that have had an impact on me - #51 - A Fish Called Wanda (1988) - John Cleese and Charles Crichton (who directed) teamed up to write this delightful caper comedy. Cleese plays barrister Archie Leach (Cary Grant's real name) who is set to defend one of the members of a gang of jewel thieves. While awaiting trial, the rest of the gang (Jamie Lee Curtis, Kevin Kline, and animal-lover Michael Palin) make Archie's life increasingly complicated as they search for the stolen diamonds. Kevin Kline won a best supporting actor Oscar for his hilarious portrayal of the moronic Otto, who thinks he is actually quite brilliant.
Otto (Kevin Kline): Don't call me stupid.
Wanda (Jamie Lee Curtis): Oh, right! To call you stupid would be an insult to stupid people! I've known sheep that could outwit you. I've worn dresses with higher IQs. But you think you're an intellectual, don't you, ape?
Otto: Apes don't read philosophy.
Wanda: Yes they do, Otto. They just don't understand it.
Archie (John Cleese): Your brother didn't bring you here this time, did he?
Wanda: No.
Archie: He's no idea?
Wanda: He doesn't have a clue.
Archie: What?
Wanda: He's so dumb ...
Archie: Really?
Wanda: ... he thought that the Gettysburg Address was where Lincoln lived.
I think I had my hands covering my eyes more at a recent screening of Grown Ups 2 than any horror movie I have ever seen. Maybe it was a horror film. It certainly had some horrific things happen in it. Maybe, like some scary movies can do, during the course of the movie I became anesthetized to the horror, because by the end of the film I have to admit that I also laughed, more than just a few times.
The first Grown Ups was pretty silly, but certainly not as raunchy as its sequel. The recent trend in comedy seems to see how gross can we get. Bridesmaids had its bridal shop/diarrhea fest. Pitch Perfect seemed to think that projectile vomiting might be a great running gag. All of the Hangover movies are non-stop yuck-fests (and I don't mean yucks as in laughs in this case, although I'm sure that plenty of folks would disagree with me.) Pushing the gross-o-meter is hardly anything new in movies. Remember Animal House, Porky's, and lots and lots of Monty Python? But somehow, in Grown Ups 2, mixing all of the bodily fluids and crotch shots and drug references in a (at least marketed) summer family comedy seemed a little bit more incongruous.
Sandler & Co. party like it's 1989
Sandler is once again laughing all the way to the bank, as his gross-out comedy easily beat the super-hyped sci-fi extravaganzaPacific Rim at the box office. As much as I had to sigh and wonder why Grown Ups 2 was resorting to the absolutely lowest common denominator of current comic trends, I had to applaud him once again for his commitment to his ensemble. Sandler likes to work with the same folks, again and again, and I can't complain when I get to see Steve Buscemi, Salma Hayek, Maria Bello, Kevin James, Maya Rudolph, etc. together again, in another movie. The actors all seem to be having such a good time that it almost makes me forget the cringeworthy scene where a drugged-out Nick Swardson undresses, goes to bed, and then gets up to use the toilet in a home display in K-Mart. But maybe that's the Sandler Kool-Aid talking again. He keeps casting Buscemi and I keep watching.
As I mentioned in yesterday's post, one of the highlights of a recent visit to the Morikami Museum was the artwork of Mariko Kusumoto.
Kaiten Zushi, closed and open
There is so much that I love about her work. The attention to detail, the humor, the sheer skill involved, the scale. I could go on and on. There is a suggestion of the early Surrealists, Joseph Cornell, and a dash of Monty Python, as well as her own, very Japanese sensibility. There is also an overwhelming sense of the female about these pieces. I am so glad I was lucky enough to discover her work, as the show was closing the weekend we visited.
The only disappointment was in the museum store. No catalog. The Morikami was selling some jewelry she had created — they were pretty brushed-silver pieces, but nothing like the whimsical pieces in the show. An opportunity missed. Now if they had been selling this clever brooch ...
The artwork was exhibited under glass. They just begged to be played with. Thankfully, there was this wonderful video on display, which helps bring the work to life. I will definitely be keeping track of Kusumoto's work in future.
"Mariko Kusumoto is a mixed media artist known for creating elaborate collages of miniature interactive worlds in metal boxes with unique metalsmithing techniques. Her work is imbued with her memories in Japan and of growing up in a 400-year old Japanese temple, where her father was a Buddhist priest. Ms. Kusumoto is skilled in a variety of art media. She studied oil painting and printmaking at Musashino Art College, Tokyo, and in 1995, received an MFA in printmaking at the Academy of Art College in San Francisco. Her works have been exhibited in numerous museums and galleries. She has been featured in over 15 publications and conducted workshops and lectures at various venues."
My mom's memory continues to slip, tiny bit by bit, but with no discernible pattern. Some days it feels like there is only the worst to look forward to. Some days seem fine. One saving grace, at least for the present, is that no matter how hard it can be for her to communicate at times—the right word seems harder and harder to come by—she still enjoys reading and watching movies. And of course watching her adorable granddaughter.
I come from a family of movie buffs. My mom and dad had special nicknames for favorite actors. They always talked about movies particularly—how a certain movie at a certain time in their lives meant something. My brother and I would watch movies with them, mostly on television. From a young age we would also get to go out to the movies on rare occasions, to see something special.
Some of the movies we all trooped together to see made a lasting impression. Young Frankenstein is still my favorite Mel Brooks film, even though I was too young to get the dirty joke/punchline. I think I could probably quote it from beginning to end. 2001: A Space Odyssey bored the whole family to tears, and we are all sci-fi geeks. But shared misery can be a bonding experience. Star Wars thrilled us all and was the first movie we all saw together more than once. Life of Brian was controversial at the time it was released (sacreligious!), but my newspaperman dad wasn't going to let anyone censor his family seeing Monty Python or anything, for that matter. The Sting and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid we saw in the space of one week, while they were playing at the local drive-in. Robert Redford was probably the first movie actor I fell in love with that was in a current movie, and not someone from one of the old B&W ones my mom loved that we would see on television, like Tyrone Power or Robert Taylor. Another of my first loves was Frank Langella. We all went to see him in Dracula, as we liked scary movies as much as sci-fi—Langella was very sexy—sort of weird to see with mom and dad. Dad bought me the Bram Stoker novel with Langella on the cover, maybe to get me to read it, or get back to to the source. I was just thrilled at first to get to relive some of the movie's scenes, but then got caught up in the late 19th century epistolary writing style, so maybe dad was onto something. I think I may still have it somewhere ...
I remember when my mom and dad both got so excited about The Godfather coming out. They had both read the book from the library, taking turns, while trying to keep it away from us, from the racy and violent parts. When the movie came out my brother and I had to stay with our grandma while mom and dad drove to NY to see it on a big screen. Maybe my dad had some sort of press pass. Or maybe they just wanted a big night out in the city. My brother and I were so jealous, but we got from them that movies can be special.
I grew up with a B&W television until I was in my teens. One of my fondest childhood memories was when the Wizard of Oz was playing at the local movie theater and my mom insisted on us going to see it. My brother and I had already seen it on television, so we didn't know what the big deal was. We walked downtown with mom who made sure we got good seats. It was fun seeing Dorothy on such a huge screen, and I always liked going to the movies, but I didn't get it until ... She opened the door to technicolor Munchkinland. My brother and I both screamed. I looked at my mom and she just smiled. She had saved that surprise, that bit of movie magic, for us all those years.
So it is extremely gratifying to me that we can sit together in the evening on occasion and still watch movies together. I can see with some of the more recent films that she is losing the plot a bit. But if I put on an old movie, it's like magic. She's much more into the story and excited at seeing the old familiar faces of actors and actresses. I might have to supply the names, but she knows exactly who they all are, sometimes much better than I do. That happened the other night when I was flipping past channels and found Zero Mostel singing the opening number, "Comedy Tonight" in A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum. I had seen the movie years ago, actually probably late one night on television with my dad. I didn't really remember it much, so it was fun to rediscover it with her.
The same thing happened again on a recent Sunday afternoon when we all watched The Pirate. My mom thought she hadn't seen it before (who knows?), but no matter. She loves Judy Garland and Gene Kelly, the kid got to dance along to Dorothy and that guy who tap dances on roller skates, and I got to see Gene Kelly dance in shorts, so it was a win-win-win.
I've always liked old movies, but I think I am going to like them even more now.
I can't believe how much I liked Tangled. Our plans for the day took a different turn than originally planned, so I suggested taking the kid to see the latest output from Disney, loosely based on the Rapunzel fairy tale. I settled down to endure, I mean enjoy, another princess movie. Although Disney twisted the original fairy tale a tiny bit to make their new heroine join their princess sorority, that aspect of the tale is the least important. Tangled is not just a fairy tale, but a sassy animated action-adventure, with lots of comedy and a minimum of songs.
This will sound like blasphemy to many, but we had just seen Beauty and the Beast for the first time recently, and apart from the Jerry Orbach "Be Our Guest" number, I really didn't care for it. It's just a matter of taste, but I didn't like Belle's voice. I'm a huge fan of fairy tales, but have always felt that the message of Beauty and the Beast is pretty messed up—Belle supposedly comes to love the Beast no matter what he looks like, but oh what a relief when he is turned into a handsome prince at the very end, just in the nick of time before any bestiality might occur. Talk about the opposite of Shrek, who loves Fiona no matter how she looks. Beauty and the Beast is close to the original fairy tale of course, and the animation is superb, but Angela Lansbury aside, it just wasn't my cup of tea.
But back to Tangled. There are some great scenes and characters. Rapunzel trades barbs with a cute thief (not a prince!) in the best tradition of romantic comedy. Maximus the amazing horse almost steals the movie. And a musical number in a tavern is clearly inspired by Monty Python, which is always a good thing in my book. Tangled is definitely more in the tradition of the Shrek movies than Disney's recent Princess and the Frog. And we all love Shrek around here. The animation is first-rate. We saw it in 3-D and it wasn't too gimmicky. It did give a nice sense of the characters being three-dimensional at times, but it would work just as well in 2-D.
I was happily surprised that I wasn't the only one who felt she was seeing something special. As the movie ended the whole audience broke into applause. I can't remember the last time that happened at a movie I attended, certainly not a "cartoon." I'm actually looking forward to seeing it again, before the holiday season is over. The kid won't even have to twist my arm.
The movie may be titled The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus, but we all know that Dr. Parnassus is a Terry Gilliam stand-in, doppelgänger, alter-ego, just as Johnny Depp, Jude Law and Colin Farrell are for Heath Ledger.
The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus is about an old man, Dr. Parnassus's deal with the Devil for his daughter Valentina's soul. But that is only the framework for Gilliam's fabulous visual depictions of Dr. Parnassus's ability to let his audience wander into their fantasies. Christopher Plummer was wonderful as the mad old mystic/king and Tom Waits was a delightful and quite affable Devil, who is much more interested in the game than in the spoils. Anyone who thinks the movie is a pasted-together save attempt by Gilliam and friends doesn't know what a Gilliam movie is like. And as Gilliam movies go, this is a quite good one. Like the sepia-toned start to The Wizard of Oz, Gilliam's movies usually start out murky and grubby, but then someone turns the handle and the door opens to the technicolor beauty of his imagination gone wild.
Heath Ledger plays a man who has fallen in with this strange traveling dream troupe by chance or design, but he quickly shifts the focus of their performances and the film on himself. Even with his part played posthumously by three other distinctive actors, Ledger owns the film. It is a true tribute to him that the talented trio actually manage to effortlessly convey the character he created, including inflections and mannerisms—so much so that a few times I had to really look hard to be sure it wasn't Ledger again.
Johnny Depp is a director's best friend. Anyone who has seen Lost in La Mancha knows just how much of a friend he has been to Gilliam. Gilliam, the eternal optimist, always tilting at Hollywood windmills, is still bound and determined to get his Don Quixote film off the ground, no matter how long it takes. Maybe he'll do it. At the moment it's supposed to be cast with Ewan McGregor and Robert Duvall. Who knows—by the time he finally gets to begin production, it might have Depp as Quixote.
Depp's sequence in this film is set in a Wonderland far superior to the one dreamed up for him by Tim Burton. At one point he tells his customer/victim, whose fantasy has taken a darker tinge, that burning out and dying young is not tragic, as she will never have to get sick and will always be young and beautiful. Just like Heath.
Colin Farrell may have gotten the best alternate-Heath, as he gets to play a love scene with Valentina (the lovely Lily Cole), as well as some dramatic character twists and turns. It's hard not to view the movie as a stunt, with its cast of superstar substitutes, but the three actors who took over for Ledger are all fantastic, and work seamlessly as mirror images/facets of his character. In fact, they may add a dimension to the piece that wouldn't be there if the role had been played by one man. Depp is the emotional side, Law the lighthearted side, and Farrell the darker aspects of the character. All traits are already present, but not immediately visible, when Ledger's character is on the other side of the mirror.
There were so many fabulous visual references I will have to watch again and again to catch them all, but the ones that registered this go-round were The Wizard of Oz, King Lear, Monty Python (of course) and Gilliam's own films, especially The Adventures of Baron Munchausen, Time Bandits and The Fisher King. There were also numerous nods to paintings, including those by Hieronymous Bosch.
At one point early in the film Valentina says to her father, "You never finish a story!" There is so much in this movie that has a double, even triple, meaning—Gilliam's constantly thwarted efforts at film-making, the fate of star Heath Ledger, the role of the artist as a storyteller, the audience as the listeners, what it is to make and watch a film. In the end, everyone has their own imaginarium.
Depp, Farrell, and Law opted to redirect their wages for the role to Ledger's young daughter, Matilda, ... and Gilliam altered the part of the credits saying "A Terry Gilliam film" to "A film from Heath Ledger and friends."
“ Maestro Gilliam has made a sublime film. Wonderfully enchanting and beautiful, The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus is a uniquely ingenious, captivating creation; by turns wild, thrilling and hilarious in all its crazed, dilapidated majesty. Pure Gilliam magic! It was an honor to represent Heath. He was the only player out there breathing heavy down the back of every established actor's neck with a thundering and ungovernable talent that came up on you quick, hissing rather mischievously with that cheeky grin, "hey... get on out of my way, boys, I'm coming through..." and does he ever!!! ... and as for my other cohorts, Colin Farrell and Jude Law, they most certainly did Master Ledger very proud, I salute them.”—Johnny Depp
“ I have always loved Terry Gilliam's films. Their heart, their soul, their mind, always inventive, touching, funny and relevant. When I got the call, it was a double tug. I liked Heath very much as a man and admired him as an actor. To help finish his final piece of work was a tribute I felt compelled to make. To help Terry finish his film was an honour paid to a man I adore. I had a great time on the job. Though we were all there in remembrance, Heath's heart pushed us with great lightness to the finish.”—Jude Law
It’s not hard for me to imagine that if I ever look back on the films I’ve been a part of, and the stories I’ve had a hand in telling, one will stand out as so unique an experience, as to be incomparable. This experience was the shooting of The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus. The reasons for its uniqueness, sadly, are probably obvious to anyone who reads this. Three of us had been asked to complete a task that had been set in motion by a man we greatly liked and respected as both a person and an artist. Being part of this film was never about filling Heath’s shoes as much as seeing them across the finish line. ... It was this spirit of grieving the loss of Heath, that Johnny and Jude and I joined. But there was also a sense of dogged insistence. Insistence that Heath’s last piece of work should not be kept in the shadow of the light of day. More than anything, though – more than the sadness and shock, the vulnerability and un-suredness as to whether it was right to complete the film or not – was an incredible sense of love. ... Such a gift and an honor, from Heath, to be a part of the trail that he left behind. RIP Heath Ledger x—Colin Farrell
I was only able to make it through the opening scene in Watchmen on-demand last night and half of the opening credits before I had to turn it off. My first thought was, "I must just be over gratuitous violence in movies." But that's not completely true. I really enjoyed Wanted, and its crazy over-the-top slo-mo bullet action. And not just because it featured my favorite kick-ass actress Angelina Jolie (I love what that girl stands for, and if by that your gossipy mind immediately leapt to husband-stealing then you've got to stop visiting those sites and think about other things.) I liked Wanted because it's silly plot was as twist-and-turny as its super bullets. It was fun.
I'm not squeamish, but I definitely had no use for the look and feel of Watchmen. The first few moments I thought, "Here we go again. I've seen this scene more times than I care to count." That may not be fair, may not be giving the movie a chance, but that's the instant decision culture I live in, so too bad. I had another thought—maybe I just wanted my violence a bit more in-the-world. The pilot of LOST is still some of the most riveting television I have ever seen. And quite violent. But not just a gratuitous body count. We've all been on a plane, made our silent prayers against crashing before take-off (at least I know I have.) Watching the survivors of flight 815 try to piece their lives together in the aftermath of the crash on that strange Island, coupled with the spooky, smoky, sci-fi elements—I was in heaven. But there were also plenty of avert-your-eyes moments. That wasn't Gilligan's island.
This is how I like my gratuitous violence. "Tis but a scratch."
The procedural shows that my mom likes to watch—CSI NY, Bones, The Closer, The Mentalist—I guess are the cream of a too-large television crop. A crop of shows with violence and death at the center of every episode, graphically depicted. Apart from Bones, however, I wouldn't seek them out. Kyra Sedgwick and Simon Baker at least use personality to drive their shows, rather than the CSI "how gory can we get the corpses of the week" template. I really hate the CSI franchise, can you tell? I'm sorry, Gary Sinise, I still love you and I'm sure you've got to get the kids through college. But I won't watch your show.
I guess like anything, gratuitous violence in television and film is a matter is taste. You would never see me at any of the Saw or similar gore-fests. I wasn't a Friday the 13th fan either. But I do love horror films and mystery novels, if the deaths are done "right." If they add meaning to the plot. If there is a plot. Substance as well as style. Watchmen styled me right out the door, and fast. It also didn't help its chances any when the HBO caveat of "violence, adult subject matter and rape" were listed as content before the movie started. It's unusual to see rape highlighted in that fashion. It's not exactly a selling point.
Today is March 1st - have you said your "white rabbits x3" for luck?
I pulled out The Annotated Alicethe other night, as it seemed timely reading, March hares and all. In the preface author Martin Gardner talks about Rev. Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, or Lewis Carroll, as he is more commonly known, and how he would keep a record of good days:
Adopting the Roman symbol for a day of good fortune, he would write in his diary, "I mark this day with a white stone" whenever he felt it to be specially memorable.
I've always liked the White Rabbit and could understand Alice's obsession with him—where is he off to in such a hurry? Monty Python's killer rabbit is also a personal fave ("That's no ordinary rabbit.")
I have to admit that I'm a little leery of the upcoming Alice movie. From the advertising it seems that they should have just cut to the chase and called it Tim Burton's The Mad Hatter. I respect both Tim Burton and Johnny Depp as artists, but the creepy make-up job that is Depp as the mad hatter—is it really necessary? What is wonderful about the original Alice is that the nonsense comes from the words. We'll see. I will definitely check it out, but I'm on guard. Their recent collaborations were very problematic for me. Sweeney Todd was interesting to watch for about a hour, but the repetitive throat slashing ultimately drowned out the very excellent singing efforts by the cast. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was so creepy and weird it just totally missed the mark for me, not capturing Roald Dahl's book or even any of the magic of the 1971 Gene Wilder film. I have no desire to see either film ever again.
So, back to The Annotated Alice in the meantime. She's about to finally get through the door into the garden, I think . . .
The other night, while watching the first episode of the Monty Python 6-part documentary, Monty Python: Almost the Truth (The Lawyer’s Cut), John Cleese revealed that his real last name was Cheese. Yep. Cheese. And that his father didn't change it until John was quite old—he apparently went through school with Cheese as a last name. He's thinking of changing it back—to Jack Cheese...
The documentary is definitely worth catching, for new fans and old. And right after the first episode IFC played Monty Python Live at the Hollywood Bowl, a fun collection of their greatest hits. Many of the routines you may find yourself quoting along happily, but word of warning... some of the songs may stick in your head...
I've never seen a sign exactly like this before, and didn't realize there was a parrot living so near the Smithsonian. Anyone see Pickles? No questions asked.
We saw Up this weekend and was it ever good. It was touching, heart-breaking at times, beautiful, scary, hilarious at others. All the things that a movie is supposed to be. There were all sorts of references - The Wizard of Oz, Howl's Moving Castle, The Red Balloon, and of course, The Incredibles and other Pixar gems. All the grown-ups in the theater cried at scenes which silently, beautifully, encapsulated a life, much in the manner of a classic Chaplin film. The kids enjoyed it too, but I suspect will be surprised in later years when they see it again and truly "get" some of the film's deeper themes. One of my favorite references has to be the Monty Python/Terry Gilliam short, The Crimson Permanent Assurance. I don't have enough praise for this great film. Just see it. It rocks. We saw it in 3D, by the way...
is still my favorite Mel Brooks film, even though I was too young to get the dirty joke/punchline. I think I could probably quote it from beginning to end. 2001: A Space Odyssey bored the whole family to tears, and we are all sci-fi geeks. But shared misery can be a bonding experience. 
thrilled us all and was the first movie we all saw together more than once. 
was controversial at the time it was released (sacreligious!), but my newspaperman dad wasn't going to let anyone censor his family seeing Monty Python or anything, for that matter. 
and 
we saw in the space of one week, while they were playing at the local drive-in. Robert Redford was probably the first movie actor I fell in love with that was in a current movie, and not someone from one of the old B&W ones my mom loved that we would see on television, like 
, as we liked scary movies as much as sci-fi—Langella was very sexy—sort of weird to see with mom and dad. Dad bought me the Bram Stoker novel with Langella on the cover, maybe to get me to read it, or get back to to the source. I was just thrilled at first to get to relive some of the movie's scenes, but then got caught up in the late 19th century epistolary writing style, so maybe dad was onto something. I think I may still have it somewhere ...
coming out. They had both read the book from the library, taking turns, while trying to keep it away from us, from the racy and violent parts. When the movie came out my brother and I had to stay with our grandma while mom and dad drove to NY to see it on a big screen. Maybe my dad had some sort of press pass. Or maybe they just wanted a big night out in the city. My brother and I were so jealous, but we got from them that movies can be special. 
. I had seen the movie years ago, actually probably late one night on television with my dad. I didn't really remember it much, so it was fun to rediscover it with her.
. My mom thought she hadn't seen it before (who knows?), but no matter. She loves Judy Garland and Gene Kelly, the kid got to dance along to Dorothy and that guy who tap dances on roller skates, and I got to see Gene Kelly dance in shorts, so it was a win-win-win.
is about an old man, Dr. Parnassus's deal with the Devil for his daughter Valentina's soul. But that is only the framework for Gilliam's fabulous visual depictions of Dr. Parnassus's ability to let his audience wander into their fantasies. Christopher Plummer was wonderful as the mad old mystic/king and Tom Waits was a delightful and quite affable Devil, who is much more interested in the game than in the spoils. Anyone who thinks the movie is a pasted-together save attempt by Gilliam and friends doesn't know what a Gilliam movie is like. And as Gilliam movies go, this is a quite good one. Like the sepia-toned start to The Wizard of Oz, Gilliam's movies usually start out murky and grubby, but then someone turns the handle and the door opens to the technicolor beauty of his imagination gone wild.
knows just how much of a friend he has been to Gilliam. Gilliam, the eternal optimist, always tilting at Hollywood windmills, is still bound and determined to get his Don Quixote film off the ground, no matter how long it takes. Maybe he'll do it. At the moment it's supposed to be cast with Ewan McGregor and Robert Duvall. Who knows—by the time he finally gets to begin production, it might have Depp as Quixote.
, King Lear, 
(of course) and Gilliam's own films, especially 
, 
and 
There were also numerous nods to paintings, including those by Hieronymous Bosch.
of LOST is still some of the most riveting television I have ever seen. And quite violent. But not just a gratuitous 
the other night, as it seemed timely reading, March hares and all. In the preface author Martin Gardner talks about Rev. Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, or Lewis Carroll, as he is more commonly known, and how he would keep a record of good days:
or even any of the magic of the 1971 Gene Wilder 
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