TITLE: One Crazy Summer (1986) AUTHOR: Joe Johnson DATE: 10:38:00 PM ----- BODY:
Our recent episode on John Hughes made me think back to another director known (a little) for his 1980's teen comedies.

Dir: "Savage" Steve Holland

It’s easy to remember the 1980’s teen comedy as a franchise owned by John Hughes. The once prominent director codified the teen experience in Sixteen Candles and the Breakfast Club with such style and authenticity that little thought is given to his doppelgänger, "Savage" Steve Holland. To begin with, Holland built his best stories around a young John Cusack: that penetrating combination of charm, hipness, and accessibility introduced in Rob Reiner's The Sure Thing. Despite the glory of the Hughes films, they lacked the one thing that Holland had: the teen leading man, Jimmy Stewart in a veneer of cult band t-shirts.

Holland's two most successful films, Better Off Dead and One Crazy Summer, took the teen comedy places few went. He strove for comedy of the absurd: a vital blend of exaggeration, darkness, and subtlety. One Crazy Summer begins in this slightly bent universe with the high school graduation of Generic, New York. We are quickly introduced to the small band of characters. At the center is "Hoops" (Cusack), the unusually normal cartoonist chronicling a quest for love.

Given the opportunity to seek a small adventure, he departs with his best friend (Joel Murray) – who brings his elementary age sister – picking up a troubled bar singer called Cassandra (Demi Moore). They run off to Nantucket where people are every bit as unusual as they were on the mainland. They join up with the Stork twins ( Tom Villard and "Bobcat" Goldthwait) and a pacifist Marine (Curtis Armstrong) and begin a mission to save a house from an evil businessman (Animal House's villain Neidermeyer).

Hoops’ quest for love is ongoing, and his experience earning the affection of Cassandra is well intentioned, though ultimately lacking any tangible chemistry. The plot may not be overwhelmingly interesting, but Holland’s direction and love of the absurd makes the journey unforgettable. In the course of 90 minutes the viewer witnesses a rabid mechanical dolphin, two cases of grand theft auto, an underwater lobster attack, escape from a motorcycle gang, a yacht race, the destruction of a radio station by bazooka, and Godzilla’s rampage of a housing development.

This is hardly the usual teen film. But somehow Holland captures something quite essential to the teen experience. Cusack embodies average-nice-guy with such consistency, he could be placed in the Smithsonian as an example of the 1980’s adolescent. In this world of surrealism and unpredictability, he is normal and a mirror on that awkward transition from the stability of teen life to adulthood. The real world is not normal.

When the movies are reviewed, John Hughes' films will probably remain the official documents of teen life in that otherwise forgettable decade. He succeeded by imitating some form of an ideal life. But Holland’s interpretation is painted in Charles Addams strokes, preferring to disclose authenticity through contrast and exaggeration. It doesn’t make One Crazy Summer more accurate than Sixteen Candles. But it does make it a lot more difficult to outgrow.

***1/2 of *****

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-------- TITLE: Archive Review: Matrix Revolutions (2003) AUTHOR: Joe Johnson DATE: 8:50:00 AM ----- BODY:
Since I've done nothing other than cover deep foreign movies, I thought – in an act of mercy – I'd throw in this review from a slightly more popular movie. This was written after seeing the film in the theater for the first time.

Dir: Andy Wachowski/Larry Wachowski

It is wholly unfair to gauge either of The Matrix sequels against their 1999 predecessor. Somewhere, back before “bullet-time,” we had not imagined the hybrid of techno-club culture and hong-Kong wire effects. But now this is all familiar territory and the remaining question is whether the peculiar parallel world created by the brothers Wachowski will be nearly as interesting as it seemed a few years ago.

The leather trilogy began with an homage to Alice in Wonderland but ends here with a highly-stylized abstraction of a video game. Visually, the Metropolis landscapes are riveting. Still, they feel like backdrops — even matte paintings — suggesting great imagination, but wholly inorganic. Of course, given the plot lines and history of the world, this may be intentional. But every hero story, especially those that are supposed to be about great acts of salvation, must make us care for both hero and victim. Instead, Revolutions is relentless posturing and exaggeration. There are no people in this movie. Zion, the refuge of true humanity, is somehow less warm than the digital cities. Its demolition seems no more tragic than the closing of a Starbucks.

Few movies are so successfully and unapologetically about style. Then again, few have the capability to rely on pure atmosphere. The Wachowskis' landscape remains unequaled. The action sequences continue to be astounding. But with all the hype, with all the quasi-philosophy introduced in the first two installments, something is altogether hollow. Perhaps the tagline—"Everything that has a beginning has an end"—sums up the film. It sounds profound but is sheer redundancy. This is a movie about indulgent pretension, acting like a clever group of undergraduates volleying meaning-of-life questions while playing Halo.

Revolutions, if it is has a point, is about conclusion. It is all about arriving at some finality. However, all sense of urgency and momentum is derived from the previous two installments. Anyone who enjoyed those films will be required to watch the third. Maybe true satisfaction comes from the utter shallowness of the chapter. There isn’t a need for another movie. Whatever happens to humanity and the machine world is really irrelevant because by the time Neo has fought his climactic battle nothing is really worth saving. The mystery of The Matrix was how it convinced us that there was reality to its universe in the first place.

*** of *****

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-------- TITLE: Archive Review: Spiderman 2 (2004) AUTHOR: Joe Johnson DATE: 6:54:00 PM ----- BODY:
Note: Seeing as Spiderman 3 has opened this weekend, it seemed like a good time to dig back into the archives for this review of Spiderman 2, from a few summers ago.

Dir: Sam Raimi

It seems that Spiderman 2 was already classified as one of the premier films of summer 2004 long before any eye saw a frame. It had to be, for the very same reason as the original Spiderman. The forerunner was touted as an exceptional work of psychological brilliance based on one of the most universally beloved heroes of the comic universe. That story was about maturation and character development. It was about the person inside the suit, and was able to treat the young viewer and his or her chaperone.

So far the Spiderman franchise has been content to revisit the themes of superhero films established most firmly with the Christopher Reeves-era Superman, though with an added level of depth and competence. Still, perhaps the most surprising aspect of the whole sequel is that no lawyer associated with the Superman films sued for intellectual plagiarism.

Spiderman 2, like Superman 2, is the story of the reluctant hero - the struggle between the costume and the normal life. Peter Parker (Toby McGuire) is torn between his guilt-based sense of responsibility – the deep conviction that Spiderman is the protector of the innocent – and a personal desire to pursue life with a girl (Mary Jane, played by Kirsten Dunst). It is, with no real sense of irony, that the endangered girl ultimately draws Peter back to the costume.

In an age of absentee masculinity and indifferent anti-heroes, this self-sacrificial story seems both healthy and needed. Perhaps it is. But at the end of the day, there is nothing particularly surprising - nothing really risked in the sacrifice. Like most concepts of screen heroes, no act of benevolence goes unpaid. Is Peter Parker really required to give up Mary Jane? Does he forever have to forsake any life outside of duty? No. He must simply learn to be a better time manager and get others to cooperate.

Spiderman 2 offers unusually good acting, a reliable story-line, and an embellished special effects budget. This is the hope of every parent who’s adolescent boy is looking for a franchise. Spiderman is significantly more wholesome than Neo (Matrix) or James Bond. But there is only so much self-suffering that one should have to witness unless watching a Swedish film. The circumstances of existential doubt and debate get overly heavy. It’s difficult to remember if McGuire ever has a joy-filled smile in the whole film. If the hero doesn’t have any fun, why should the viewer?

***1/2 of *****

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-------- TITLE: Archive Review: Time Changer (2002) AUTHOR: Joe Johnson DATE: 10:59:00 AM ----- BODY:
Dir: Rich Christiano

Christian filmmaking is generally akin to war propaganda and after-school specials. It requires the adjective “Christian” because these filmmakers cater to an audience that is forgiving, exploiting a sense of party loyalty and cultural guilt. It is very difficulty to tell a story well, whether in film or print. Somewhere, there must be an overriding theme; the story must be about something. At the same time, for the story to have any depth, the characters cannot become inferior to the theme. In action films it is customary to use “types”—disposable and predictable villains, fair maidens, and brawny vigilantes. But in dramas, character is essential.

Time Changer is tightly focused on its thematic question: “Can morality and the authority of Jesus Christ be separated?” Of course, we cannot imagine the flimmaker answering in the negative. We are being taught something, a way to think properly. If we are to listen to the film and enjoy it, we must think like it does. We must agree with what it teaches.

Propaganda films are usually very boring or unbearably heavy-handed. Even the better ones, such as The Day the Earth Stood Still or Intolerance, are difficult to forgive. We know we are being manipulated and though we may even agree with the film, there is always a level of resentment against being told to see with one perspective.

There is one avenue for propaganda films that can work more smoothly, namely, the satire. Black comedy and exaggerated stories make disagreement seem ludicrous. But satire is more manipulative than the blatant propaganda film. Time Changer is not truly satire. But neither, despite its premise, is it really about manipulation. Yes, it manipulates, but that does not appear to be its function. Rich Christiano seems intent on exploring the foundational question, building a case study or illustration. (The movie is both his hypothesis and his evidence, and to critique the film negatively one must find a hole in his argument.)

Time Changer is a rather credible piece of entertainment, mixing H.G. Wells fantasy with fish-out-of-water comedy. Yet, despite this quickly identifiable parentage, Christiano manages to avoid several of the clichés present in both genres. The time machine device completely stays away from any “changing the future” idea. It also dedicates little time to comedic misunderstandings. As Russell Carlisle (D. David Morin) comes to the present, he really adjusts as quickly as possible to modern contrivances. He gets the gist of the future and attempts to make his stay invisible.

Despite the fantastic plot device of utilizing time travel to witness the results of Carlisle’s theories, there is gravity and evident contrast between past and present. This gravity comes from what is arguably the greatest strength, or greatest weakness, of the movie: D. David Morin’s performance. He seems stilted and speaks awkwardly. The dialogue is intentionally contrasted from modern vernacular. Carlisle talks in complete sentences without contractions ("will not" not "won't" - "can not" not "can't"). But reading nineteenth-century scholarly writings, perhaps Morin’s performance is better than it seems. The only doubt about this is watching Carlisle in contrast with the fluid mannerisms of his contemporaries Norris Anderson and The Dean, played by more prominent actors Gavin MacLeod and Hal Linden, respectively.

Time Changer succeeds in two significant areas: the characters are interesting and, largely, original — and there is enough intrigue to keep viewers to the end. It could easily use another re-write and an outside, critical eye to advance the movie to another level. Knowing that the primary audience is fundamental Christians — and that the movie was executively produced by Paul Crouch, founder and president of the banal Trinity Broadcasting Network — Christiano takes some significant risks. Although he doesn’t exactly bite the hand that feeds, he subtly makes a few pokes at the modern church. It isn’t enough, but it is accurate.

The entire movie is as much a critique of liberal Christianity as it is propaganda for fundamental Christianity. While it reinforces evangelical zeal for “End Times” theology and proactive evangelism, it also questions the results of agnostic philanthropy and – very subtly – religious right demands for the legislation of moral behavior.

Rich Christiano’s effort is generally solid. It might even be good filmmaking, though, at its heart, it is intensely about an agenda. There’s nothing wrong with the agenda and it is uncommon enough to propel the film. Time Changer puts forth hope that Protestant Christianity may one day re-engage with culture, depending on good storytelling, compelling characters, skillful directing and proficient acting more than a sympathetic audience. Considering the progress made by LDS filmmaker Richard Dutcher, Christiano still has some work to do, but he may have a great film in him somewhere.

*** of *****

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-------- TITLE: Review: Rocky Balboa (2006) AUTHOR: Joe Johnson DATE: 5:21:00 PM ----- BODY:
Dir: Sylvester Stallone

In literature, the thing that survives is character: Captain Ahab, Scout, Huck Finn, Odysseus, etc. Television has its correlations – the pivotal character that becomes more important than plot. Consider the likes of Barney Fife, Archie Bunker, and Mr. Spock. Rocky is that sort of iconic character that merges popularity and literary depth – something of a cross between Cheers’s Sam Malone and Beowulf.

The power of this unlikely character remains embedded in his simplicity – Rocky is a likeable, unpretentious man who feels more than he says, who fights with a champion’s heart and a hero’s integrity. His simplicity is often confused with slowness, but that would be a mistake – nearly as large a mistake as assuming that Stallone’s embodiment of the character is anything less significant than the Bard’s projection of Prince Hamlet.


The opening of Rocky Balboa is all character - the story of living nostalgia. Rocky is neither forgotten nor disregarded, just resigned to that place of affection or trivia. Had this film not been preceded by the five earlier films, critics might be talking of the understated, perfectly spirited portrait of an aging man settling his past and accepting his future – moving from glory to contentment. They might also acknowledge that Stallone’s acting is as natural, precise and appropriate as any we’ve seen in some time. The Rocky of pop culture has been imitated for thirty years. But Stallone’s Rocky is living, subtle and fresh.

Unfortunately, Stallone’s direction is not nearly as honed. Rocky Balboa moves from a great film to a good film in the course of one montage. Then, in an exhibition fight, it moves from good film to an inspirational, seasonal movie (not that there’s anything wrong with that). The larger the plot grows, the greater the movie shrinks. Perhaps, it’s because once a decision is made to train for a climactic fight, the rest of the movie is automatically written. That part – the test of Rocky’s determination in a boxing ring – has already been done. Unfortunately, we don’t get to see the real story continue – Rocky’s determination toward a new era in life.

The match undoes much of what is successful throughout the rest of the film. First, it forces Stallone to make artistic decisions that counteract the warmth of the previous story. He combines HBO television graphics, Raging Bull-esque black and white shots, flashbacks and Gatorade/Pleasantville techniques. Most importantly, it becomes another movie. All through that match we lose the real battles: will Rocky move on in his life, past Adrian and mid-life? What conflict will arise between his real son and his surrogate son? Can he grow into a civic and community leader confronting the demise of “South Philly”? Are we all defined by our youth or are we able to find new definitions – to redirect our character and ethic from one field into another?

But despite that disappointing third act, Rocky Balboa remains uniquely able to excite an audience. Anyone who doesn’t cheer for him, who doesn’t want to call him “champ,” doesn’t have a heart. And until the boxing match is set, Stallone -the actor - gives one of the finer performances of his career. Stallone - the director - offers a film that is almost serious about dealing with the aging of the Baby Boomers. Although it’s tempting to think about what could have been, the Rocky Balboa that we get is still a strong, entertaining and inspiring movie.

***1/2 of *****

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