The Twenty Plussers
Posted by Mister Hand (misterhand@filmschoolrejects.com) on June 21, 2007
They call to me. They sit on my DVD shelf, even when I have brand new stuff to watch, and they beckon.
“No,” I say to them. “I’ve communed with you so many times. Am I a child that I need to come to you repeatedly, nuzzling myself in your familiar awesomeness?”
They reply, “Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesssssssssssssssssssssssss!”
I am helpless. I sit. I watch. Mouthing the dialogue. Humming every bar of the music–even the most discordant lines.
Baaaaaaaaaaaa-rump! Baaaaaaaaaaaa-ruppa! Baaaaaaaa-rump! Baaaaaaaaaa-ruppa!
I bellow the ominous dual-piano line as the walkers trudge toward the rebel base in The Empire Strikes Back. It stays in my head for days after.
And if you know exactly which piano line I’m talking about, you really need to get a life.
(See, I can dish out that kind of advice. I just can’t follow it.)
And so I have a special group of films that I watch over and over again.
The kind of film that would make this list is usually some sort of science fictiony, actiony, explosiony, special effects heavy(ey?) spectacle. But I have my heady favorites as well, along with a comedy or two.
(I really wanted to write comedy(ey), but I have a little more taste than that. Just so you know where my head was at.)
Anyway, what follows is a list of my ten favorite twenty-plussers, in ascending order. Or maybe it’s descending order. Whichever one means going from favorite to, “ZOMG! TEH FAVRUT!!!!!!!!!!!11SHIFTONEELEVENTY”
THE RULES:
I’ve seen them all at least twenty times, and I’m sure I haven’t seen the last of any of them. ‘Nuff said.
Raising Arizona is the most overrated comedy ever.
*dodges stuff hurled his way by the fanboys*
Honestly. Everybody told me Raising Arizona was awesome. And I’ve been a Coen Brothers fan since Blood Simple. But I came to Raising Arizona late–long after it had left theatres. My reaction was… feh. I didn’t hate it. But I didn’t love it. And then Hudsucker Proxy came along and I decided I was pretty much done with Coen Brothers comedies. Blood Simple, Miller’s Crossing, Barton Fink… give me the Coen Brothers doing their perverse riffs on tried and true genres. When I laugh, it’ll be because they’ve given me something darkly comic, or because they have so deftly flipped a genre convention on its ear. I won’t laugh simply because Tim Robbins is mugging for the camera, or because Paul Newman is acting “loveably” gruff. And certainly not because someone observes that Nick Cage has “a pantyhose” on his head in a faux southern accent.
Maybe I just really dislike Nick Cage.
Um… yes. Yes, as a matter of fact. I think I really dislike Nick Cage.
*more dodging stuff ensues*
Anyway, that was my attitude before I saw The Big Lebowski. Not only is it one of the funniest movies ever, it is loaded with heart. And as far as riffing on a genre is concerned, the Coens have never riffed better. It’s like Miles Davis mixed up the Raymond Chandler-style mystery in a cauldron of cool jazz and then lit it on fire with his trumpet of… fire.
Whoa. Totally lost it there mid-metaphor. Apologies.
Anyway–even after watching Lebowski twenty-plus times, I still laugh.
It’s a bad movie–so bad it totally rawks!
“Poor Kirstie. So eager to play. So reluctant to admit it.”
The story makes no sense at all. The idea that pleasure is pain, and pain is pleasure–yeah, I don’t get it either. The acting? Mostly not awesome. Direction? Pedestrian. Special Effects? Uneven. Writing? Well, the dialogue sparkles occasionally.
“It is not hands that calls us. It is… desire!”
Where Hellraiser II makes its bones is in being gleefully repulsive. And it’s plenty repulsive to make up for its shortcomings. (If you don’t understand how blood, gore, torture, and a spiky vision of hell replete with flayed zombified residents, and tentacles, and stuff that goes squish is, in and of itself, enough to make a great movie, then boy are you reading the wrong list.)
The score for the film is pretty good considering its genre and budget. (You will learn as you read down the list that music goes a long way toward making a film a twenty-plusser.)
There’s an interesting bit of trivia score-wise as well. Christopher Young composed the movie’s theme, and in a commentary track on the DVD Special Edition, he suggests that Danny Elfman borrowed his Batman theme from it. The themes are very similar, and considering that Hellraiser II came first, it is not improbable to suppose he might be correct.
Elfman later went on to compose the scores for Spider-Man and Spider-Man 2. He was apparently unavailable to score Spider-Man 3. So who is brought in to fill his shoes? That’s right. Christopher Young.
I said it was interesting. I didn’t say it was mind-blowing.
Moving on…
“Put… that coffee… down!”
At first, I watched it over and over again because each viewing revealed something new about the characters, some fresh revelation about the theme, some strikingly unexpected insight into human nature. Now I watch it mostly for Alec Baldwin. I don’t care how crazy he is. He can beat his kids within inches of their lives with stainless steel lawn sprinklers for all I care after his performance here. To me, his bad press is forever irrelevant. The fact that he’s closing in on the ideal weight for your average blue whale? No matter. He is mysterious, unnamed, anti-motivation guy–sent on a mission of mercy from Mitch and Murray.
He drove here in a $30,000.00 BMW. You drove a Hyundai. That’s his name.
Even without Baldwin’s bravura performance, this is a richly-realized vision of a film, chock full of great performers at the peak of their abilities. When has Al Pacino ever been better? Scarface gets all the attention from the casual movie quoters. But the real movie quote geeks can recite the profane speech he gives to Kevin Spacey (toward the end of the film, with liberal use of the “C” word) line for line.
And this is indeed one of the most quotable movies ever by far. Nonetheless, it’s the things the characters don’t say that make the film so rewarding for repeat viewers. The characters in this film talk a lot. But they leave these Big Country-sized spaces in between what they say and what they are hiding by saying it. Essentially, these down-and-out, shady real estate salesmen spend most of the movie talking about nothing. But they manage to say everything.
I’m so proud that I was acquainted with Sam Raimi before Sam Raimi was cool (I mean, as a watcher of his films, not in real life). And I’m more proud that even now, when he’s cool, Sam Raimi’s still not cool. He’s a geek, a dweeb, a dork, just like me. Except he gets to make Spider-Man movies now for a billion dollars. He’s one of the most respected directors in Hollywood.
Yeah, good old Sam, who I knew as the GDD (geekdweebdork) who made GDD movies for GDD’s. He’s finally received the credit he deserves. He’s got the good life. All the waiters in your grand cafe throw their roses at his feet.
Actually, come to think of it… I hate Sam Raimi. I’m petty that way. Jealous and petty.
Yeah. I’m loads of fun at parties.
Nevertheless, I still love this movie.
“Groovy.”
Best comedy ever. The film that showed me that it’s okay to find truly sick, twisted stuff fall-out-of-your-chair funny. When my teachers at school were telling me I was warped, that there must be something wrong with me, a late night viewing of this film showed me that I was perfectly fine. And screw those humorless bastards.
“Actually… I think I might pull through.”
Let me say this to Guillermo Del Toro (loosely quoting the Goblin from the original Spider-Man movie): “Thank God for you, Guillermo. Thank God for you.”
I fully expect Del Toro’s Pan’s Labyrinth to replace this entry on the list in the very near future. Labyrinth is as deep and rich as anything I’ve seen in the last ten years, with the best villain… well… maybe… ever.
In the meantime, I just love the way Guillermo moves this film. It’s like a flawlessly executed symphony of B-movie cliches, slapped on screen with a confidence and sheer giddy joy that I personally find as uplifting to the spirit as watching a herd of gazelle race across an open prairie, only to be cut down by a pack of hyenas. You see, that’s all the cycle of life. It makes you appreciate living.
Okay, so I suck at invoking metaphor.
Let’s put it this way: when I’m watching Animal Planet’s Meerkat Manor, and I’m seeing a meerkat pup roasting under the African sand, barely clinging to life, because some crazy asshole meerkat pulled him out of his burrow two months before he was ready? And I’m screaming at the filmmakers, “Put down the camera and save the meerkat, you cold, cruel bastards!” When that happens? I’m wishing I was watching Blade II. Even with all the death and dismemberment, no one’s killing meerkat pups.
There is no part of this review that successfully explains why I have watched Blade II over twenty times. And that’s as it should be. I can’t explain it. I just love this movie.
Also, it is notably the third “part 2″-type movie on the list. Leading us to…
The fourth “part 2″-type movie.
We all know that Episodes I – III mostly sucked. Most of us know full well that Return of the Jedi ain’t all that. And while A New Hope is a great film, it doesn’t even come close to Empire’s ultra-super-dooper-badassery. John Williams has never composed a better score for a movie in his life. Hell, I’d be surprised if John Williams ever composed anything that even comes close to the masterpiece he concocted for this film. And I don’t believe he ever will.
As I mentioned, music plays a big role when it comes to deciding if a movie is going to be a twenty-plusser for me or not. Empire is almost wall-to-wall music, and it’s all awesome. So when I’m watching Empire, it’s less like watching a movie, and more like listening to a favorite Mozart symphony.
But what can I say about Empire Strikes Back that hasn’t been said by others many times before and better than I ever could?
Not much. So let’s move on…
John Williams’ second-best ever score for a film, and the best film Lucas has ever been associated with.
How strange is it that no other film since Raiders has come close to capturing its magic? Many have tried, and all have failed. And that includes the sequels. While Temple of Doom has grown on me, and I now love that film, Last Crusade is, I’ve decided, pretty much crap. The scenes with Sean Connery and Harrison Ford doing their father/son thing (scenes mostly suggested by Connery) are great. The rest of the movie feels like some sort of museum tribute to the original–lifeless and hollow. Needless to say, I don’t have much hope for Indy 4.
And by the way, what is this crap with calling the movie Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark? Screw you Steven Spielberg for jumping onto George Lucas’ psychotic bandwagon of fetishistic backdating.
Yeah, yeah, I’m a film snob asshole. I can’t help it. I truly love this film. The more I watch it, the more I love it. I first discovered it in high school, and by now the film is like a long-time girlfriend. In the beginning it was all “ooh!” and “aaah!” Now its, “Hey, baby. How was your day? Don’t wanna go out? That’s fine. We can just chill at the house and chat.”
And even I find that whole metaphor a little more than disturbing.
In my opinion, it is the finest film yet fashioned by human hands. Certainly it is the best true science fiction film ever made, with Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey running a close second. I’ve seen it… maybe… a billion times? Is that possible? It feels that way. I owned it on VHS. I then owned the widescreen Director’s Cut VHS. Not too terribly long after, I bought the Director’s Cut DVD with crappy letterboxing and Dolby 2.0 crappy soundtrack. As soon as I saw it was available, I purchased the newly-remastered, anamorphic DVD with 5.1 surround. I bought it knowing full well that in the fall I would be buying it again, this time as a whiz-bang “everything but the kitchen sink” multi-version with a new director’s cut (which, this time, will be actually cut by the director).
Let me say this again with italics placed exactly as before: it is the best true science fiction film… evar!
Not long after I met my current girlfriend, I played this movie for her on DVD. When she reacted favorably towards it, I knew she was the one. That was six years ago, and we’re still going strong. She’s my Rachel. I’m her Deckard. I picked up the little unicorn origami, and I knew that she was like me and I was like her.
The only question is why she stays with me when I’m such a pathetic dork. No matter. One day we will wed. I will wear a perfect replica of Deckard’s trenchcoat, and she will wear something modeled after Priss’ death shroud.
Wow. This just gets sicker and sicker.
Obviously, that wedding will never happen. All I need is to give her parents a reason to hate me more.
If you’re ever in a situation like me, and your girlfriend’s parents start asking you questions like, “So–do you ever plan to marry our daughter?” Or, “Hey, how’s the job hunt going?” Blade Runner gives you the perfect response:
“I want more life… fucker!”
That pretty much shuts ‘em right up.
Told you. Fun at parties.
HONORABLE MENTION:
Fight Club
It was the first DVD I ever bought (and the reason I bought a DVD player in the first place). It is still the best DVD in my collection. Every commentary is engaging, informative, and funny. Every special feature is interesting without being glorified commercials for the film I already bought. And the film itself? Our parents’ generation had Easy Rider. We have Fight Club.
(Actually, my parents’ generation had Rebel Without a Cause. But my parents are old.)
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