Film Friday: Into The Woods (2014)

I didn’t know what to expect from Into The Woods. The trailer looked good and I do enjoy a good musical. And this one apparently did pretty well on Broadway and in London for over three decades. It seemed to have good actors in it too and great effects. So it probably should have been pretty good. Yet, I’m going to use this film to discuss what I really despise about Broadway.

Plot

Into The Woods binds together several fairy tale stories to create a new story. The plot is meant to come across as complex and clever, but honestly it feels derivative, predictable and muddled and far too cynical.

The story follows a whiny Baker (James Corden) and his Wife (Emily Blunt), who want to have a child. The reason they can’t have a child is because their neighbor, an evil Witch (Meryl Streep) cursed the Baker’s father because he stole magic beans from her garden. Her curse was that the Baker’s father’s family tree would be barren.

Streep, however, has decided that she wants to undo the curse. She doesn’t give a reason for her change of heart, but it seems that undoing the curse will give her back her youthful good looks, which were stolen from her by some other curse. To end the curse, the Baker must collect a white cow, a red cloak, a golden slipper, and some golden hair. So the Baker sets out into the forest to collect these items.

As you might expect, he trades Jack some magic beans for his white cow. He saves Little Red Riding Hood from the wolf. His Wife steals Cinderella’s (Anna Kendrick) slipper. And the golden hair comes from Rapunzel, who was his father’s daughter until she was taken by the Witch and hidden in the tower. Of course, each of these stories is corrupted to a degree and the characters all seem to be randomly roaming the forest as the plot needs.

Fast forward: the Baker gets the stuff and the Witch reverses the spell. That’s where the film should have ended, but it doesn’t. Instead of rolling credits, as should have been done, the film falls way off the rails. The Prince (Chris Pine) marries Cinderella and then proves to be unfaithful because he’s a prince and little girls need to be warned that they can’t rely on princes!! (Sorry, I was channeling a feminist.) He fools around with the Baker’s cougar Wife, who the writer seems to think is only living up to her potential by having an affair. Rapunzel learns to hate her mother the Witch for a reason she already knew long ago. A giant attacks and get this... it’s a woman! Ha ha! OMG Isn’t that clever?! Well, of course it is... because the characters tell us so four or five times. Several characters die because life is about suffering when you work in theater, and the story just kind of winds down with no one living happily ever after because leftists don’t know jack about how to end a story.

Why I Liked This Less and Less As It Dragged On

Where do I start about what I hated about this film. How about at the beginning?

The story felt derivative. And I don’t just mean because I saw Once Upon A Time first. The problem is this: the writer took the most well-known fairy tales and wove them together in the exact way you would have expected. No attempt was ever made to get off the most obvious path. For example, if you’re going to use Cinderella, the most obvious way would be to create a need to steal her slipper. Ditto on Red Riding Hood’s cloak and Rapunzel’s hair. Yet the writer never thought to make them important to the story for some other reason. Thus, there isn’t a single moment where you are surprised in the least.

The characters are awful too. I hated them all and just didn’t care what happened to them. The Baker was unbelievably whiny. Even worse, because liberals believe intent is what matter, we were supposed to like these people even though they spent their time abusing and defrauding everyone they met because they claimed to feel bad about it. Huh? The Princes (there are two) were gay lounge lizards. Jack was a thug in the body of a child. Red Riding Hood was as wooden as a robot and seemed psychotically cold about death. Cinderella was full of anguished indecision in every scene, but the things she anguished about weren’t things anyone cares about. And all of them, every single one, was self-obsessed. The end result was that the characters came across as rotten, whiny and unpleasant. They aren’t people you want to see succeed... or spend time with.

The songs were crap too. Did I mention that this was a musical? Yeah. It was the type of musical with very few actual songs, but lots and lots of dialog being sung as pretend songs. This is something I hate about many Broadway productions. It seems that there are three or four standard song formulas Broadway uses. Depending on the emotion of the scene, the correct formula song is chosen and the dialog is jammed into the form with the proper rhyme scheme. The end result is that you spend the whole time hearing them sing whatever stupid lyrics they have while humming the more famous versions of the same song from prior musicals... “Isn’t that ‘The Candy Man’ from Willy Wonka?” What’s more, the songs are so forgettable and generic that you can replace them with their counterparts from other musicals and I seriously doubt anyone would know the difference.

This is lazy and it’s annoying. It also encourages the actors to engage in melodramatic Broadway acting styles. “Golly gee whiz (swing arm like a newsie).” I find this super annoying. Why? Think of it this way. How sick are you of Johnny Depp playing the same drunk over and over on film these days? This is the same thing... only it’s being done in musical after musical for decades regardless of who the actor is. Talk about annoying!

The writer was an ass too. Three crimes against writing come to mind here in particular. First, it was obvious that the writer carefully avoided doing anything clever for the first four or five hours of the film... ok, it was only 124 minutes, but it felt twice as long. At no point does this writer ever trust the audience to use their brains; everything is spoon-fed to you and served on white bread. Secondly, the writer has insecurity issues. I know this because the story is full of moments where the writer has characters tell you how clever the writing is. If you find yourself doing that, it’s because you suck. And third, the ending is total crap.

The film should have ended about twenty minutes sooner than it does. But it didn’t. Instead, the characters venture back into the woods for no valid reason. Once in the woods, the writer has them engage in out-of-character moments (like having an affair) so he can effectively slander them one by one. Then the film just kind of ends. This entire scene is confusing, pointlessly dark, pointless and it doesn’t fit in with the rest of the film at all. And the only reason I can see for doing it is that the writer is a cynical prick who thinks it’s clever to twist these characters into rotten people. Since attacking these characters was a popular activity on the left at the time this was first written, I assume this was ideological.

All in all, I have to say that this film stunk. The characters are impossible to like. The story is mind-numbingly boring and predictable until the ending, which is random and hateful. The songs are entirely forgettable and derivative. And the story seems intent on making you hate fairy tale characters.

This is Broadway at its worst. Thoughts?

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Film Friday: The Wiz (1978)

I love the Wizard of Oz, and I often enjoy the remakes. I love blaxploitation films too. And I enjoy musicals a lot. So The Wiz sounds perfect. Heck, how can you go wrong with Michael Jackson, Diana Ross, Lena Horne, Quincy Jones, and Richard Pryor? Well, you can. The Wiz sucks and I marvel that somewhere along the way someone didn’t say, “Wow, we need to change this.”

The Plot

Diana Ross is having a midlife crisis, so she goes outside into the snowy streets of New York after a family dinner. A freak ice-tornado picks her up and dumps her in Oz. In the process of landing, she kills a witch – Evermean. This frees the kids (Munchkins) who Evermean turned into graffiti as punishment for graffiting. They celebrate Evermean’s death and Ross meets Miss One, a good witch and a numbers runner who tells her to follow the yellow brick road and to never take off her silver slippers.

After Ross fails to hail a cab, she finds herself outside a tenement building, where a group of crows are eating corn and hassling a Scarecrow (Michael Jackson) who is stuck on a pole. Ross chases away the crows and helps the Scarecrow to his feet. They dance and move on down the yellow brick road.

Next, they pick up the Tin Man (Nipsy Russell) at an amusement park and the Cowardly Lion (Ted Ross) in front of the New York Public Library. Then they go to the Emerald City, where they see a bunch of sycophants and hookers and finally meet the Wiz (Richard Pryor), who tells them to kill Evillene (Mabel King) if they want their wishes granted. Evillene runs a sweatshop in the sewers of New York and she controls the Flying Monkeys, a motorcycle gang of stinking apes. Ross assassinates Evillene and they return to the Wiz, where they learn he is a fake. Ross then returns home by clicking her heels together.

What Went Wrong... And Wrong... And Wrong

The critics hated The Wiz and audience stayed way from it; it cost $24 million to make and took in only $13 million. And you know what? They were right. This thing is a turd on so many levels. Everything went wrong with this production.

● The Songs: A musical lives or dies by its songs, so let’s start with the songs. Put simply, the songs are crap. There are basically two decent songs. One is Michael Jackson singing “Ease on Down the Road,” and one is Mabel King singing “No Bad News.” Both songs are original to the musical, but they do feel like they could have been more than that. Neither is particularly strong, but both are adequate.

The rest of the songs, however, are a total waste. They have basic lyrics with obvious rhyme schemes and no cleverness at all. Neither the music nor the lyrics will surprise you in any way. None of them are memorable and there no moments of little joy of the type that make a song touch your emotions. You can’t even sing along.

Even worse, the lyrics are primitive. In fact, most of these songs are transactional in nature in the sense that they simply convey information to the audience in the most simplistic manner. If a character is evil, they sing, “I’m so bad.” If a character is sad, they sing, “I’m so sad.” When you meet the cowardly lion, he sings, “You better run and hide, I’m a mean old lion.” Yawn. Compare that to the imagery of “Build Me Up Buttercup” or “You Can’t Hurry Love.” Or think of how “Riding Along In My Automobile” takes simple seeming lyrics and steps those up to paint a strong picture that brings you a climax. Now compare that to how the lion’s song continues as Ross encourages him to be brave:

Keep on tryin’ and tryin’ and tryin’
You’re a lion.
Keep tryin’
I’m a lion.
In my own way, I’m a lion.

Nothing. No cleverness. No double meanings or turns of phrases. No imagery you can grab onto. No build up. No payoff. And the few times the lyrics try to be clever, they are jarring and unpleasant. Here is a woman singing how she wears red instead of green because red is the “in” color and green isn’t:

I wouldn’t be caught dead [waaaaay overly-long pause]
And if I’m caught at all [second long pause], then catch me in dead red.

Apart from the two songs mentioned, you won’t remember a single line from the film.

● The Choreography: In addition to singing, musicals often include dance numbers which are equally important. Director Sydney Lumet (12 Angry Men) really drops the ball here. For one thing, he repeats imagery. The three “big” numbers each involve him pulling the camera back so you can see about 150 feet across. Then he films as a large number of dancers, all standing equidistant, slowly move in a large circle as if they were a record on a record player. Three times you’ll see this same image repeated.

Further, there is almost no contact during the dancing. The extras essentially spin in place or do generic dance moves without touching each other except for the occasional moment where they touch and separate again. The main characters touch more often, but there’s no togetherness in this. Everyone is basically doing their own independent thing side by side, and that gives the movie a very cold, sterile, distant feeling.

Really, the only exception is Michael Jackson, who does his best to breathe life into the other actors, but they lose whatever life he gives them the moment he separates from them.

● The Script: The script is horribly weak. Your first clue to this is that each scene involves the actors gathering together center stage and standing around trying to look busy as all the necessary lines are delivered. What this tells you is that the characters lack motivation, i.e. they are dialog-delivery vehicles and nothing more. And that’s just the beginning of the problems with the writing.

There is little verbal interaction. Essentially the characters read lines at each other rather than communicate, which prevents any sense of relationship. Again, there are no double meanings, no hidden depth, and no verbal cleverness. The word choice is awkward as well. The dialog is a strange mix that feels like an educated white liberal with a thesaurus vocabulary wrote the dialog to appeal to others at his level, but then included the occasional black slang he had seen in other blaxploitation films. The result is characters who sound like accountants and lawyers talking shop, but who will suddenly whip out a very uncomfortable “ghetto” phrase. It feels condescending.

Further, the story itself is weak. Yes, the story is a remake of The Wizard of Oz, but what’s missing here are the motivations. Why does anyone in this film act the way they do? The script offers little more than the characters changing locations, reading a few lines, and then standing there long enough for the current problem to suddenly solve itself. Nothing in this film feels connected. The result is a weak plot, zero character development, and no relationships get built... and you end up not caring about any of them.

One reason this may be the case is that the writer wasn’t nearly as clever as he thought he was. The writer packed the film with symbols that presumably are meant to convey the real meaning of what is going on. The problem is that these are undeveloped. For example, there are cabs that refuse to pick up Dorothy in the several early scenes. This is a “racism” complaint made by black groups, that cabs won’t pick up blacks. Ok, so we are to read “racism” into the film, right... but why? What is the point to including it? There are no whites in this Oz, so who is the allegation made against exactly? And how does it fit into the story? It doesn’t seem to motivate or cause anything. It’s a bit like having a character hold up a picture of Jesus and point at it, only to have the film have nothing to do with religion.

Then you have the fake Wiz living at the World Trade Center, which is presumably some statement about wealth and power. But again, what does this mean? It’s never connected to the world we see. Outside, you have a huge number of sycophants who change the color of their clothes the moment the Wiz declares a new “in” color, which could be a statement against consumerism or peer pressure or perhaps some penchant in the black community to follow their leaders mindlessly... but if it is, you’ll never know because it doesn’t factor into any decisions that get made, it doesn’t motivate any character, and it doesn’t affect the plot. Likewise, there are statements about the existence of graffiti and worthless politicians that mean nothing. There are portrayals too that would normally bring howls of racism (blacks as crows or apes), yet, there is no message attached. In short, none of these symbols means anything.

This is poor writing. When you throw something into a story, it is supposed to have a purpose that helps the audience understand some aspect of the story they wouldn’t otherwise have known. Here things are included without any clues as to why they are included. What the writer has done is essentially take things that blacks in New York City complained about in the 1970s (corrupt politicians, racist cabbies, tenements, etc.) and has included them all without any purpose except to say, “Here’s a list of some things I hear black people talk about.”

This film fails at all levels. Its songs are hopelessly dull and forgettable, which is a real crime considering the talent they had on hand. The choreography creates a vibe that undermines the film. The characters are indifferent or unlikeable. The dialog is conflicted and confused. And the story itself is hollow. That no one caught this is shocking.

Thoughts?

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Film Friday: The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975)

The Rocky Horror Picture Show is a cult classic. In fact, it’s the first film I personally recall ever being called a cult classic. We’ve said before that what causes a film to become a cult classic is that the film is original, smart and well written, but doesn’t spoon-feed the audience, so it ends up being rejected by general audiences who lack the ability to understand the film but then finds a home with smarter audiences who “get” the film. This time, that may be a bit of a stretch.

What Is The Rocky Horror Picture Show?

For those who don’t know, Rocky Horror began as a musical by Richard O’Brien. In 1975, it was turned into a feature film. It bombed. Boy did it bomb. But like a Phoenix, it rose from the ashes and became wildly successful. How successful? The film opened in only eight theaters and only did well in Westwood, Los Angeles. It was withdrawn. Seven months later, on April 1, 1976, the film was shown at the Waverly Theater in New York City at midnight. This time, it caught on. By October of that year, people were attending the show in costumes and talking back to the screen. Fan groups formed. By 1979, it was showing twice-weekly in over 230 theaters. Since that time, this film has taken in $365 million on its original budget of $1.4 million... with no end in sight.

So what is it? Well, it’s a musical.

The story begins with Brad Major (Barry Bostwick) and Janet Weiss (Susan Sarandon) driving on a back country road in the rain. They get a flat tire and are forced to walk to a nearby castle. They are let into the castle by the creepy butler Riff Raff (Richard O’Brien) and an even creepier maid, Magenta (Patricia Quinn). The frightened couple are told to wait for the master. As they do, they discover a group of weirdoes dressed in tuxedos and various accessories that appear kind of clownish. They suddenly break out into song and dance, singing “The Time Warp.” As they finish, the master arrives. This is Dr. Frank N. Furter (Tim Curry), and he’s uh... eccentric. To give you a sense of how eccentric he is, the song he sings to enter the film is "Sweet Transvestite From Transsexual, Transylvania."

The film gets weird from there. Dr. Frank N. Furter has built a “monster,” in the shape of a bodybuilder, who comes to life. He fights Meat Loaf (pre-Bat Out Of Hell), who plays Eddie, an ex-delivery boy on a motorcycle. Frank N. Furter molests both Brad and Janet, kills and cooks Eddie, throws a hissyfit or two, and in the end, it turns out that some of the characters are really aliens sent here for no reason you will be able to understand.

How Did This Become A Cult Classic?

So this is the part where I tell you that while most people find this film strange and confusing, in reality, it’s a brilliant and wickedly clever film that has been widely misunderstood by general audiences. Yep, that’s what you’re expecting. Not gonna happen. Rocky Horror, as a film, is bizarre, confusing, confused and ultimately pointless. It feels like a campy comedy that pushed everything too far and became clinically insane. And to put a fine point on it, if this hadn’t been a musical, this film would be long forgotten.

But it was a musical. And therein lies what made this a cult hit, because these songs are unique, catchy, and a cut above what you get from most musicals. How? Well...

For starters, this is a rock musical and that makes it more accessible to a broader and younger audience than it would have been if this had been a more classical musical, and those are the very people who would run with a story like this. At the same time, the songs are nowhere near as pretentious or relentlessly negative as The Wall or Tommy. These are fun songs, meant to be enjoyed, not bitter, angry or depressed songs meant to exploit teenage angst. That fact alone makes this a unique musical. Moreover, the types and styles of songs vary a good deal, which gives the film a lot of reach. Indeed, there is something here for everyone to love, as compared to most musicals that stick with a single song style from start to finish.

Making the songs even better, they fit perfectly into the film. Too often, in musicals, once the song starts, the plot stops. Not here. These songs move the plot along and the characters maintain their personas. You can actually skip all the songs in Cabaret without affecting the plot. You can’t do that here. Again, this is rather unique in the world of musicals and that makes this stand out.

In a related point, these songs are perfectly integrated with the action and the dialog to tie the film together in a manner much like the way The Fifth Element is tied together, where lines of dialog spoken by different characters (often in different locations) are jammed together to form meanings that the audience can pick up. Thus, for example, you may find one character starting a line and another character in a completely different scene finishing it. That gives the film an interesting, clever, quirky feel which cult fans seem to enjoy... it’s like being treated like an adult for once.

Further, the lyrics (and the dialog at times) are sharper than they appear at first glance. The rhymes used are clever, and the analogies, allusions and meanings are complex and deep. And each song has multiple layers of meaning. For example, the song “Over At The Frankenstein Place,” which essentially starts the film, has the obvious meaning that the characters see a light in a building and they believe that means someone there can help them. But the song is awash with deeper meaning as well. Brad and Janet actually sing: “There’s a light, In the darkness of everybody’s life.” Clearly, they are talking about something larger than finding someone to help change a tire. What they are saying is the theme of the film: this film will be about people who aren’t happy in their very normal lives and who want to try something new... and boy are they going to get it. Riff Raff then adds a lyric related to the use of morphine to find “light” in his life.

Throughout the film, the lyrics constantly have these layers of meanings. On the surface, each song is about that particular moment in the film and advances the plot, but simultaneously, the lyrics are also about drug addiction or O’Brien’s struggles with coming to terms with being a transsexual. And then there is the overriding theme which hides in each of these lyrics as well, which is the idea of normal people looking for something new. Consider this lyric:

You better wise up Janet Weiss,
Your apple pie don’t taste too nice

Here, Tim Curry sings this very aggressively at Janet when he’s trying to seduce her and she rebuffs him. On the surface this sounds like Curry is simply telling Janet that she’s not desirable. But there’s more here. The context is actually deeply sexual and there is a suggestion Curry is talking about oral sex and telling Janet she better be thankful for his attentions because she’s not going to get this from Brad or anyone else. Further, the word “apple pie” suggests “wholesome” to most people (as in “mom and apple pie”), which is what Janet is claiming to be and why she won’t have sex with Frank N. Furter. And what Curry is telling her here is not only that she’s not particularly desirable, but that her wholesomeness turns him off. This is the theme throughout as Brad and Janet delve into this bizarre, definitely un-wholesome world. Sadly for them, they are poorly equipped to handle it.

So what you end up with are clever songs that deal with a variety of truly bizarre topics and which offer multiple layers of meaning. The lyrics are edited together, as with The Fifth Element, to make you pay attention to get the full meaning. The music is varied and of a fairly high quality. The tone and songs are unique among musicals. All of this speaks rather highly of the film.

Add to this that the film touches upon a series of taboo subjects (drug use, murder, cannibalism, homosexuality, transsexuality, and swinging, among other things) which is always popular with young audiences, but it does so in a safe and ultimately ridiculous manner that lets people enjoy the topic. In fact, the ridiculousness here is the key because it’s the difference between seeing a murder and joking about a murder. If Frank N. Furter was earnestly examining his feelings as a transsexual or his murder of Eddie had been taken more seriously, then this film would probably be unbearable. But he isn’t. Instead, he’s so far over the top that the black humor of the film crosses over into genuine humor. And what this does is make this a highly entertaining film for audiences who want a little abnormal in their lives... just not as much as Brad and Janet get.

That’s how this film found its audience and why this film has become a cult classic.

Thoughts? (Other than WTF?)

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Film Friday: Jesus Christ Superstar (1973)

Jesus Christ Superstar is one of those strange movies that grows on you. When I first saw it, late, late, late one night, I thought it stank. I didn’t like the music. I didn’t like the actors. I thought the whole thing was done on the cheap. But I gave it a second chance, and before it was over, I was hooked. It's now become one of my favorite musicals.

** spoiler alert **

Directed by Norman Jewison, Jesus Christ Superstar is the big screen adaptation of the Andrew Lloyd Webber/Tim Rice musical of the same name, which is a musical based on the crucifixion of Jesus. Sounds like a hoot, right? Well, it gets worse. Jewison decided to go with minimal sets, minimal costumes, and unknown actors. Thus, the sets are little more than ruins and the costumes look like the casual clothes the actors wore to the first rehearsal. Moreover, where props are added, Jewison uses modern props, e.g. machine guns. Also, the soundtrack mixes some of Webber’s “kitschiest” bits with 1970s rock. What could possibly go wrong?

Interestingly, it is these choices that make the film. The minimal sets turn out to be a genius stroke. By giving us only hints of how these familiar buildings looked, Jewison lets the filmgoer fill in the details with their own views of how these places must have looked. This brings the viewer in and produces sets that are much more personal than if a team of workers constructed phony facades. Moreover, because the landscapes are spectacular -- it was filmed in Israel -- you spend the entire film lost in the impressive scenery, which easily takes you back 2000 years.

The music turns out to be a brilliant choice too. Whereas most musicals repeat one sound over and over, and which rarely lends itself to song that will work outside the musical, Superstar's use of rock music gives these songs a life beyond the film. Moreover, the choice of rock music lends the film a seriousness which the traditional vaudeville-like music of musicals can’t touch. When you have a guy pounding away at a piano stretching out his “A’s” (as in “raaaag time baaaaaaaand”) you just can’t deal with serious themes. But Superstar's songs are serious and philosophical, sometimes just plain beautiful. My personal favorite is “Could We Start Again Please,” which builds amazingly, though the most famous is “I Don't Know How To Love Him,” sung by Yvonne Elliman, who plays Mary Magdalene and went on to sing the hit “If I Can’t Have You” from Saturday Night Fever.

The story itself is quite good, though it upsets some people. Indeed, when Superstar came out, it was highly controversial, though its success has tempered the criticism today. At the time, some Jews claimed some of the lyrics were anti-Semitic. Catholics and Protestants were upset that Jesus was portrayed as possibly being interested in sex, though this is only hinted at, that Judas was portrayed too sympathetically, that Judas asserts that Jesus is just a man, and some considered it blasphemous that Jesus wasn’t shown being resurrected. Some also objected to having Jesus and the gang portrayed by dirty hippies, and that Judas was played by a black actor. Oh well.

If you require Biblical stories to be humorless, with one-dimensional characters, then this movie is not for you.

The lyrics are witty and clever, often with interesting bits of humor thrown in. The actors are excellent, though it takes a while to realize how perfect they truly are for the roles. Ted Neely, who plays Jesus, is infinitely better than “Thorazine Jesus” played by Willem Defoe. This Jesus has passion and he doesn’t confuse “meek” with “Holy.” Elliman plays a wonderfully conflicted Mary Magdalene, who loves Jesus, but doubts her ability to be worthy of him. And Judas. . . what can you say about Judas?

Many of the detractors hate this version of Judas. They claim he’s too sympathetic -- they apparently want the Snidely Whiplash version who foams at the mouth from start to finish. But Carl Anderson gives us a complex Judas, who presents both a believable betrayal and a believable contrition. Anderson begins by accusing Jesus of having lost his way. He sees Jesus as a man who is drunk with all the adulation, and who has deluded himself into believing he’s God. This allows Judas to fall under the spell of the Priests who tell him that they want to stop Jesus for the good of the Jews. But the moment he betrays Jesus, Anderson really turns up the volume, giving us an amazing guilt-ridden tantrum, followed by hopelessness personified, and finally suicide. In the end, Judas re-appears in the cleverest number ever to feature a tasseled white jumpsuit.

There is real emotion behind these actors. Their dancing is excellent, and their singing, which at first seems strange as it is an unusual style for musicals, really makes the movie stand out. In fact, I’ve heard other, more famous singers take on these rolls (there have been several versions of the soundtrack released and at least one remake), and those actors added a level of gloss that felt fake and made the roles less real. . . less emotional.

What the critics miss about Jesus Christ Superstar is that the movie approaches its subject matter with incredible care and a real love. Jesus is tested, but regains his faith. Those who have faith in him are rewarded. Those who have betrayed him suffer their own damnation. Yet, each of the characters is treated fairly, good guy or bad, and the actors play them with full belief in them as real people, not as props to hit certain plot points. Finally, the ending is so jarring that it does a good job of imparting the anguish with which the real story ends.

So if you haven’t see this movie, I highly recommend it, and Easter is a great time for it. If you saw it once and didn’t like it, give it a second try.

Finally, I mention the remake. Don’t watch it. They use the setting of a London street gang, and it’s highly politically correct. Moreover, the songs all have a nasty edge, particular the King Herod part, and the characters seem much more one-dimensional and, often, hateful.

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Film Friday: Strictly Ballroom (1992)

Written by Ayn Rand, Strictly Ballroom is one of my favorite romantic movie. Ok, I’m kidding, it wasn’t written by Ayn Rand, though it could have been. I’ll bet no one has ever told you that before!

** spoiler alert **

Strictly Ballroom began life as a play written by Baz Luhrmann and Andrew Bovell. In 1992, Luhrmann (Moulin Rouge) made it into a movie. . . his first. With a wry sense of humor, a sharp wit, and a flare for the ridiculous, Luhrmann turned what would have been just an another low-budget ugly duckling tale into a worldwide sensation that continues to appear on "best of" lists today. And in the process, he gave us one of the better romantic movies of the last couple decades.

Strictly Ballroom is the story of Scott Hastings (Paul Mercurio), and his struggle against the powers that be. Scott has been dreaming of winning the Pan Pacific Grand Prix ballroom dancing championship since he was six years old. Under the guidance of his über stage-mother Shirley (who never managed to win the Grand Prix herself), Scott has become the champion dancer of Kendall’s Dance Academy. Les Kendall is Shirley’s ex-dance partner. Scott's father, we're told, doesn't dance and is withdrawn into his own world.

As the story opens, we learn that all is not well with Scott. Scott is a talented dancer, but feels trapped by the regimented rules of ballroom dancing. He wishes to dance his own moves (steps). But this doesn’t suit the powers that be, specifically Australian Dancing Federal Chairman Barry Fife. Fife warns Scott that he cannot use his own steps: “there will be no new steps!” But Scott ignores him and thereby sets into motion a chain of events that will shake the Grand Prix world to its very foundations.

When Scott first displays his new steps, the powers that be instantly turn on Scott. He's disqualified from the event and threatened with further disqualification. His dance partner Liz, unable to stand the strain of living on the edge of propriety, leaves Scott so she can dance with his biggest competitor, Ken Railings. Scott’s mother lays a heavy guilt trip on him, as she very visibly suffers a near nervous breakdown trying to reign Scott in and find him a new partner. But Scott will not be bowed. He wants to dance his own steps. All he needs is a partner.

Enter Fran. Fran (Tara Morice) is a shy Spanish girl with bad skin, glasses and a horrible fashion sense. She’s only a beginner dancer, but when Scott loses Liz, Fran asks to dance with him. Scott at first scoffs at the notion he would dance with a mere beginner, but he soon becomes intrigued when he learns she too has invented her own moves. Soon Scott sets about teaching her to dance, so she can become his partner.

This leads to the usual ugly duckling scenes, as Fran is made more attractive, as misunderstandings and insecurities interfere in their relationship, and as Scott learns he doesn’t know everything. Indeed, some of the best scenes in the movie come after Scott meets Fran’s father and grandmother and discovers they too are dancers: “Show me your Paso Doble!”

All the while, Scott’s mother and the rest of the powers that be try to shut him down, to separate him from Fran and to make him dance with Tina Sparkle -- a former Grand Prix winner. They even try to drive Fran away. But Scott will not listen, as he is falling for Fran. As an aside, the scene where Scott’s mother finally realizes what Scott is up to -- when she and everyone else catch Scott and Fran dancing behind a stage curtain, is probably my favorite dance in any film.

With Scott slipping out of their grasp, the powers that be turn up the heat on Scott. A decision is made to tell Scott his father was destroyed by his own selfish desires to dance his own steps. . . a decision that remains a powerful wedge between Scott’s father and Scott’s mother to this very day. But this is all a dirty lie, meant to cover up a shocking betrayal. At the same time, plans are put into place to guarantee Scott cannot win, no matter what he does. But why would this group of glitterati go to such lengths to stop Scott from dancing new moves? Why is he such a risk to them? Because they can’t do these steps, and that means they can’t teach these steps. And that means they lose their power and their jobs. In the words of Chairman Barry Fife: “If you can’t dance a step, you can’t teach it, and if you can’t teach it, we might as well all pack up and go home.”

Now there’s one more thing you need to know. This whole movie is satire. That's right. The Pan Pacific Grand Prix, the event that tears these people apart, is nothing more than a local, amateur dancing competition. That’s it. This makes lines like the following from Barry Fife wonderfully absurd: “Let's not forget, that a Pan Pacific Champion becomes a hero, a guiding light to all dancers, someone who'll set the right example.” Moreover, the characters are wonderfully drawn. Les Kendell sprouts malapropisms every time he speaks. Shirley is so tan she's become orange. Fife plays the heavy from behind a shockingly bad toupee. Ken Railings, the evil competitor, is an alcoholic hot tub salesman. Even Doug Hastings, the henpecked father, has a terrible secret (and a great dance scene). And the cast of dancers are painted and feathered to the absurd.

Many compare this move to Dirty Dancing, but the two really are very different. Whereas Dirty Dancing was entirely serious, Strictly Ballroom is thoroughly tongue in cheek. I also must say the choreography in Strictly Ballroom is superior. Dirty Dancing was very typical Hollywood. It was designed to be flashy and, where it was meant to be sexy, it was obvious and oversexed. The dancing in Strictly Ballroom, by comparison, showed tremendous technical skill. You felt like you were peeking in on dancers testing their limits in private, as compared to Dirty Dancing which felt staged. And unlike the over-sexed Dirty Dancing, I would describe the dances between Fran and Scott as intimate and sensual. Dirty Dancing strikes me as the kind of dancing that would be fun to watch, but Strictly Ballroom strikes me as the kind of dancing you wished you could do.

So how does Ayn Rand fit into this? I doubt Luhrmann had Rand in mind when he wrote this, but he’s absolutely picked up every element of The Fountainhead. Scott, like Roark, is a true talent, a savant. He's also unorthodox, seeing a better way. But the powers that be, a group of certified professionals who lack talent but who are the gatekeepers to Scott’s dream by virtue of their being deigned to be the best by their fellows, are desperate to stop him despite his talent (or because of it). They see him as a threat to their way of life. His talent exposes the lack of theirs, and they would rather society be deprived of what he can achieve than have their own deficiencies laid bare. Thus, they try to sway him, they try to threaten him, they even co-opt those closest to him. Yet, in the end, Scott, like Roark, decides he would rather see his dream destroyed and lose the Gran Prix than sacrifice his principles. In this way, Strictly Ballroom is The Fountainhead only with the 14 hour ending speech by Roark replaced succinctly by Scott with: “Fran, I wanna dance with you!” (and with fewer explosions).

Maybe this is why Strictly Ballroom resonates so well? Maybe this is why Strictly Ballroom is so much more than your typical ugly duckling movie? Perhaps, it's the Randian message of defeating the oppression of the mediocre, of letting the savants set their own standards, that drives this movie home? After all, we can all relate to having been frustrated by people who lacked our vision. Or maybe, we just liked the music?

And while you’re pondering that. . . show me your Paso Doble!

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Film Friday: Moulin Rouge (2001)

Moulin Rouge is an enjoyable musical with moments of brilliance. But there are two flaws that keep the movie from being a great movie. At times, Moulin Rouge tries to be too clever, but at other times, it is not clever enough.

** spoiler alert **

What Is Moulin Rouge

Directed by Baz Luhrmann (Strictly Ballroom), Moulin Rouge is an unusual 2001 musical based loosely on Guiseppe Verdi’s opera La traviata. It takes place in Paris in 1899, during the "Bohemian Revolution," and tells the story of young writer Christian (Ewan McGregor), who falls in love with cabaret actress Satine (Nicole Kidman), who happens to be incapable of falling in love and suffers from tuberculosis. The romance between the two is interrupted by the Duke (Richard Roxburgh), who is promised Satine in exchange for investing his money into rebuilding the Moulin Rouge and paying for the production of the Indian-inspired "Spectacular Spectacular." As they prepare for the show, Satine and Christian hide their love from the Duke. His discovery of their love, mixed with Satine’s seeming betrayal of Christian, leads to the climax.

But it isn’t the story that makes Moulin Rouge so interesting, it’s the music. Unlike most musicals, with songs specifically written for the musical or its corresponding stage production, Moulin Rouge samples modern pop music. At times, whole songs are sampled, with or without changes to the lyrics. And in these instances, Moulin Rouge is typically brilliant. Elton John’s "Your Song" is woven brilliantly into the story line, as it is first spoken, then sung, then spoken again. The Police’s "Roxanne" was given new life as a Tango, which also drives the plot. Queen’s somewhat obscure "The Show Must Go On," from Freddy Mercury’s last album before his death (1991’s Innuendo), is equally well woven into the plot. The most traditional musical number, "Like A Virgin," also is brilliantly done, with the original lyrics intact, but their meaning changed as Zidler and his brigade of waiters chase the Duke around the room trying to convince him that Satine is both a shy demur girl and yet a wild, passionate creature. Only one song is truly original -- "Come What May" was written for Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet (1996), but was never used prior to Moulin Rouge.

It is in these musical moments that the cleverness of the writer shines through and the film is most enjoyable.

Too Clever By Half

But Moulin Rouge is also a great example of writers trying to be too clever. Moulin Rouge takes its plot from a combination of La Boheme (young writer falls in love with sick girl), La Traviata (courtesan learns to love) and the Greek Tragedy Orpheus and Eurydice (musical genius must venture into the underworld to retrieve his love). This makes for a complex story, but in and of itself, is not the problem. The problem arises when Luhrmann compounds the complexity by shooting the film as a story within a story within a story.

It’s the last story that’s the problem. Generally, the movie is the story of the love of Christian, the penniless writer, and Satine, the loveless actress, who must hide their love from the evil Duke as they work on the story of the penniless sitar player and the loveless courtesan, who must hide their love from the evil Maharaja. Those stories are intertwined enough to challenge the viewer. But on top of this, the writer adds a third story, as we are reminded several times that this entire story is being written by McGregor, a penniless writer sitting alone in his apartment with a typewriter.

There is no reason to add this third layer. In fact, it ultimately detracts from the film, because just when the love story of Christian and Satine comes to a happy and then tragic ending, we are quickly whisked back to McGregor’s apartment, thus taking away the emotional impact of what we have just seen. What's more, this is done for no discernible reason. We are neither given further details of McGregor’s life, like why this story would be significant to him, nor are we shown that despite our grief the “real” Satine still lives. Basically, returning to this third story is the film equivalent of Luhrmann telling the audience, “just kidding.”

But even within the story within the story, the writer gets too clever. As the story unfolds, we are treated to constant foreshadowing of Christian/Satine’s story by the sitar player/ courtesan story. But the foreshadowing is done so constantly and so heavy-handedly that it stops adding tension, by giving the audience hints of what may come, and instead eliminates tension by announcing to the audience exactly what is about to happen right before it does.

Moreover, the writer crams Moulin Rouge full of historical references. For example, the elephant in which Satine lives, really was constructed outside the actual Moulin Rouge. The character of Toulouse-Lautrec-Monfa was an actual midget and is considered one of the greatest post-impressionist painters. And many of the strangest images in the movie come directly from the paintings of Toulouse-Lautric. Even the green fairy (Kylie Minogue) is a reference to a famous drink from the period, absinth, which apparently caused madness in many a Bohemian artist. But these references are so fantastic and so strange -- and the audience is given no way to know that they are indeed historically accurate -- that the audience is left feeling that the director is simply trying to clutter the film with surrealistic images. Thus, rather than adding to the movie’s depth, they only confuse and distract from the film.

Not Clever Enough

Yet, in other ways, Moulin Rouge is not clever enough, particularly with some of the sampled songs. As noted above, all but one of the songs is taken from modern pop music. Some are taken in their entirety, but others are not. These others were created by sampling several pop songs, sometimes as little as one lyric, and then mixing the samples together to form medleys. The lyrics were then altered as needed to fit the story, turning these songs into Frankensongs. Finally, the actors recorded the new songs to give the vocals continuity.

But It is in the Frankensongs that the cleverness fails. Many times, the musical combinations are so jarring, particularly when a different sampled song is used for each new line, that no flow is created. At other times, the lyrics simply become non-sense. And unfortunately, some of the key moments in the film are done in this style. For example, in a particularly important scene that should establish the chemistry between Christian and Satine, Christian tries to convince Satine to give their love a chance by singing a series of lyrics from different songs that use the word “love.” But while the idea is clever, the execution is not. With each new lyric, the music changes to reflect the song from which the lyric was taken. But these songs don’t meld well together. Thus, rather than becoming an interesting medley, this becomes an exercise in “name that tune.” And McGregor, who I otherwise think is a great actor, does not have the vocal strength to bring order to this jumble. Thus, rather than building chemistry between the characters, this gimmick distracts the audience from the actors.

At the same time, the writer fails to pay the same attention to Satine. Indeed, rather than scouring the music world for replying lyrics, he just lets her sing-speak her responses. This seems lazy, as if the writer could not be bothered. Moreover, in the middle of this song, the writer suddenly switches from finding “love” songs to David Bowie’s "Heroes," which is a total non-sequitor: “we should be lovers” suddenly becomes “we could be heroes”? How the characters would be considered heroes is never explained, indeed, the line seems more like an excuse to get to a favored song rather than anything related to the plot. And even though the writer breaks free from the lyrics of "Heroes" almost immediately, the lyrics he substitutes don’t make a lot of sense. Consider this exchange:

Christian: We could be heroes, just for one day.
Satine: You, you will be mean.
Christian: No I won’t!
Satine: And I, I’ll drink all the time.
Christian: We should be lovers.
Satine: We can’t do that.
Christian: We should be lovers, and that’s a fact.
Satine: Though nothing, will keep us together.

This exchange has little relation to Christian’s prior wooings or Satine’s prior resistance, and there is no hint anywhere else in the plot that Christian is “mean” or that Satine is a drinker. Indeed, this exchange comes across as entirely out of place when it is sung. And all of this causes a key moment in the film, the moment that establishes the love/chemistry between Christian and Satine, to fall flat.

Conclusion

Thus, while I highly recommend Moulin Rouge as an enjoyable and unique experience, its value is ultimately lessened by a writer who cluttered the film with unnecessary distractions and yet, failed to concentrate sufficiently on certain key parts.

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