Monthly Archives: August 2014

TBT: Mean Girls (2004)

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Well the final bell is about to ring on this back-to-school portion of TBT. . . and. . .I bet at least three of my readers would have never seen this one coming today. I will have to admit I didn’t either. I’m not even quite sure what prompted me to seek out this title, but boy am I glad that I did. This is one of those times I’m dually rewarded; not just for my bravery in going with something completely out of the blue at the last moment, but for chancing a film titled something like 

Today’s food for thought: Mean Girls.

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Missing this side of Lindsay Lohan since: April 30, 2004

[Netflix]

This Thursday is a great reminder of why it’s important to not judge a book (film) by its cover (weak title). I loved Mean Girls.

Sharp, intelligent writing and some surprisingly heartfelt moments made this teen drama a worthy entry into the crowded coming-of-age genre, and it lay on the laughs in fitful doses in spite of what once appeared as audience-pandering varnish. The glitz and the glam in this film applies sorta like it does in real life: turns out, beauty’s skin deep, and there’s much more to be found in this story about a white girl from Africa — Cady (it’s pronounced “Katie,” thank you very much), played by a Lindsay Lohan we hope is sober — who goes behind enemy lines of the ‘popular crowd,’ here referred to as ‘The Plastics,’ to upend the social order.

This, at the behest of the outcast but really cool kid Janis Ian (Lizzy Caplan) who wants nothing more than to topple the queen of the bitches, Regina George (Rachel McAdams, who clearly reveled in the opportunity to break from her sweet-girl persona).

While the attending tropes of the genre were almost as easy to pick out as Cady’s social clumsiness was in the beginning, Mean Girls is not as dumb as it looked, thanks to the wit of one Tina Fey, who not only services the film gracefully and amusingly as your vintage “I recognize how unhip I am as a math teacher” type role model — she also penned the script.

That second part? Definitely good news for me, and for anyone under the false assumption this movie is just about applying make-up and making fun of the fuglies. Well, there is a little of that too. But oh my gosh, it’s like. . . so totally fetch.

Fey conjured up a school environment ripe with drama and interesting characters. There were the obvious targets: the aforementioned high-brows who wear high-heels and bad attitudes, the jocks, and the sexually-deprived math nerds. Moving on down the list of significance to the more frequently overlooked: the punk-rockers, the try-too-hard’s, the — and I’m paraphrasing — very pretty but unfriendly black girls, the awkwardly disfigured, the burn-outs, the downright not-good-lookers. Comprehensive. Thorough. Borderline insensitive. In essence, not at all what I had this movie pegged for.

But what perhaps solidified Mean Girls‘ status as a valid piece of commentary on the high school experience was the attention to detail. Conversations are often brutal, even heart-breaking, especially when it comes to evaluating waist sizes. Characters mattered (see: Daniel Franzese’s hilarious Damian). The set-up’s also engaging. Whereas certain developments play out predictably — the eventual downfall of Cady is none too subtle and neither are the fates of a few relationship triangles, romantic or otherwise — there are others that come out of left field, but in the best possible way. The idea Principal Duvall (Tim Meadows, master of the dead-pan delivery) had to gather all females in the gym for one hell of an interesting conflict resolution session stood out among them. There was also the reciprocating of the evils between newcomer Cady and the queen of the bitches.

Back-stabbing never seemed so much fun you guys! Despite colliding with several cliches, Mean Girls delivered big on laughs, entertainment and faithfulness to a certain culture of irrepressible silliness. When scenes played out in Cady’s head, we are treated to the scenario in slow-motion, backed-up with vicious animal noises, an effect that might seem goofy when read about, but whose effect gradually provides a cumulative effect that brought out the best in this mean-spirited mayhem.

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3-5Recommendation: A thoroughly entertaining comedy from the early 2000s that provided as much heart as it did laughs, while in the guise of what’s ostensibly a chick flick. Perhaps the surprise factor helped, but I laughed myself silly in key scenes here. The film had spirit, good-looking girls, and it also had something of an important message to impart its viewers with. It’s also ironic. If you can’t be accepted as Lindsay Lohan, just. . . try something else until that doesn’t work. Then go back to being Lindsay Lohan.

Rated: PG-13

Running Time: 96 mins.

TBTrivia: Tim Meadows had apparently broken his hand prior to shooting, and his character ends up wearing a cast for the duration. It is explained away as him having carpal tunnel syndrome.

All content originally published and the reproduction elsewhere without the expressed written consent of the blog owner is prohibited.

Photo credits: http://www.imdb.com

Boyhood

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Release: Friday, July 18, 2014 (limited)

[Theater]

I know my refusal to get up out of my seat even after almost three consecutive hours of sitting — in considerably cramped quarters, I might add — is pretty weak testament to the fact that Boyhood just may be one of the coolest films this reviewer has had the privilege of watching. Saying I didn’t move after the film ended is not a very flashy statement and it probably won’t help sell a lot of tickets, I’ll admit. Instead it’s one that might even lead readers to think I just got stuck in the chair or something. Maybe I had even fallen asleep. I have seen that before, actually; people just lying there comatose while the credits rolled — sigh. What are they paying for?

If I had fallen asleep here, I would have just paid to sleep through a rare kind of cinematic event. Foolishly, I would have muted a voice I, as something of a nit-picky consumer of media, have been needing to hear for awhile. A voice that’s already too hard to hear when the Michael Bays and Brett Ratners and M. Night Shamalyans of the world won’t hush. Indeed I would have, in effect, slept through another chance to grow up once more, to do it all over again.

Wait, I didn’t mean I slept through my childhood the first time, just that I would have been. . . . . oh, never mind. You know what I mean. And you know what else, even if that opening line isn’t all that attention-grabbing, hey at least I’m being honest! I remain unable to leave this film behind, physically or psychologically. Yes, I might still be in denial. Yes, I’m still in the theater a week later. Yes, okay, that’s a lie.

But here’s something I can’t lie about: Richard Linklater’s much-anticipated project no longer exists in mythology. It’s now out there, ready for public consumption, even if its distribution will only allow the public to ingest it in nibbles.

Should I be surprised, though? Maybe it is fate that Transformers: Age of Exstinky debuted to some 3,000 theaters all crammed to the brim like cans of sardines while this astounding feat of cinematic beauty has slowly earned the right to open in front of less than 1,000 indie crowds over the past month and a half. Seems to me the public always picks its battles quickly, and in this example it’s one between films with short skirts versus those with long-winded explanations. And it’s so totally a one-sided affair, too. An overwhelming number of times the former emerges victorious. Visual stimulation is easier to accomplish — not necessarily cheaper to produce — than ones of a conceptual or emotive nature. After all, even despite dismal reviews that caucophany was the fourth installment in a series that has seriously lost its way but is still earning money. Lots of it.

Boyhood is a rare film for many reasons, but chief among those has to be how faithfully it adheres to the typical viewer’s own experiences. (Unless, of course, you’re an alien.) Never before has the line between fiction and reality been so flirtatious, so challenging to define. Character names and relationships are afforded the protection of fictionalization, and thank goodness too because that’s one of perhaps two things distinguishing proceedings from home-video footage (the second element being a distinctly more expensive piece of equipment used in filming). Production values exist on a level liable to boggle the mind if one is not careful. And hopefully, if one is not passed out in their seats.

We first meet Mason as his diminutive frame sprawls out upon a patch of brilliant green grass — eyes wide and full, ingesting every ounce of the sky above. Already he is engaged in a process we, the mere spectators, have been practicing for some time: being aware of his surroundings. (Later, finding a way to blend in.) While it’s a bit disconcerting never being able to pinpoint the precise moment we become aware of our own presence, there certainly becomes a point where its clear cynical men have abandoned the nescience of true boyhood. Such abstraction may not occur to every viewer, but it’s one of the more breathtaking developments over the course of these fleeting minutes.

In that iconic opening shot, Mason’s already sponge-like, absorbing and observing things about his environment, about the kinds of things kids his age do. He’s learning his family is also not the most traditional one, but he won’t understand why for another little while. Neither will we.These are the kinds of things real people grow up having to cope with, rather than worrying about when the token girl will pop up “on screen” and “become central to the plot via some contrivance.” That sugarcoating just won’t ring true here. And yet, Mason’s going to be a hero all the same for walking through this. Although enigmatic from the get-go his charm is not instantly earned. Particularly in the early years, Mason doesn’t feel as though he’s made of the stuff of even the most transparent of cinematic creations.

There’s something more organic about Coltrane’s presence. Whether this comes down to a particularly subtle acting style on his behalf or a sensationally perceptive script could be debated until the cows come home. Or at least, you know. . . until the absentee father does. Ethan Hawke and Patricia Arquette, two somewhat illustrious names in the industry, help ensure some of the film’s emotional gravity is not lost on slightly inexperienced actors. But this casting is about as extravagant as Boyhood becomes and it is not to suggest Coltrane doesn’t have to sweat the big stuff. Oh, how he does. But rather than sweating, Coltrane remains graceful, poised. He simply becomes what is asked of him.

Meanwhile, more identifiable ‘performances’ can be found with Hawke, as he embraces the opportunity to portray Mason Sr., the biological father whom Mason and Samantha only see on the odd occasion. A very fun Ethan Hawke provides charisma and energy where these kids really require strong parental support (every hard-working mother in the room should be able to empathize to great depths with Arquette’s brilliant performance); gifts where they need valuable lessons.

Ah, but he comes prepared with a few of those, too.

Mason Sr. is a great guy, but perhaps not so much a competent father figure. All of his wisdom is imparted on-the-go. A scene in which he’s delivering the birds-and-the-bees speech takes place in a public setting and he’s even considerate enough to include both kids in the discussion. That kind of awkwardness only manifests itself in reality. There’s no way this scene is actually scripted. . .is there? Could it be? That’s just one example, albeit a particularly strong one. If I were to name some others we could be here all night and day.

As per the lyrics: “let me go. I don’t want to be your hero. I don’t want to be a big man. I just want to fight with everyone else.” Indeed. Ever the idealist, I didn’t want to get out of my seat because I wanted those pangs of nostalgia to never subside. Best part of all, my refusal to move is merely unique to one particularly reactive moviegoer. Linklater easily could have groped for sentimentality but where he avoids forcing saccharinity, he’s unable to escape effecting profundity.

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5-0Recommendation: Boyhood is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. Immense in both scope and ambition, Richard Linklater’s project is also intensely personal. His name ought to be crowned among the greatest directors of all time. With a single movie — although it would be a bit dismissive to label this just another title to add to the stack — I feel he has earned that right. A labor of love it may be, but this is also one of the most important and significant films ever released. I urge you with something akin to desperation, to treat yourself to this marvel.

Rated: R

Running Time: 165 mins.

Quoted: “Why are you crying?”

“Because I don’t have all the answers.”

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Photo credits: http://www.impawards.com; http://www.imdb.com 

Alfred Hitchcock Blogathon – The Man Who Knew Too Much (1956) – Digital Shortbread

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Hey guys, here is my contribution to the joint blogathon run by Zoe of The Sporadic Chronicles of a Beginner Blogger, and Rob of MovieRob. I chose to review a Hitchcock ‘classic,’ The Man Who Knew Too Much. It may not be viewed as his single most successful film, but now that I’ve watched it I’m happy to report it’s one perhaps seriously overlooked gem. I loved it.

MovieRob

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Tom from Digital Shortbread wrote the next review for our Alfred Hitchcock Blogathon.  Here are his thoughts on Hitchcock’s remake of his own 1934 movie with the same title – The Man Who Knew Too Much

Thanks Tom for this review!

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The Man Who Knew Too Much

 

 

 

First I’d like to give a big shout-out to Miss Zoe of the absolutely fantastic Sporadic Chronicles. . . blog and MovieRob for hosting me during their impressive and ambitious Hitchcock blogathon. Seeing as I wanted to take part in something that would force me to learn something new about cinema, man, did I find the perfect event! I will be hesitant to admit this, but I might as well here: this is only the second Hitchcock film I’ve seen. I guess I should also ask, do I really hafta turn my movie critic card (that I just had laminated!!)…

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OCMC: Robin Williams, what a concept. . .

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I think in order to best encapsulate this week, and the range of emotions that have also been dealt with over the past couple, I will include this excellent montage of photos of Robin throughout his career that has been put together by a personal friend of Steve Oedekerk (the man responsible for one of my all-time favorite spoof-comedies, Kung Pow! Enter the Fist), and this clip I found via some snooping around on Facebook. (Yes, I am cool enough to be on Steve’s friend list. . .and his friend’s list isn’t even that big, you guys!!!!)

It may be a 7 minute clip but don’t let the time stamp fool you. Once you start it, this video flies by. Arguably too quickly. It also seems to be able to say more about the man than a bunch of pretty words that I could write. Some of you may have already seen this, but for those who haven’t I really hope you enjoy it and maybe even agree that this is one of the most beautiful and certainly one of the more comprehensive retrospectives of the life and career of a gifted man, entertainer, supporter, activist, son, cousin, brother, husband, father.

Oh captain my captain, we thank you. For you have made all of our lives extraordinary just for being.

Here’s the films/performances I have covered over the last week for anyone who has missed them:

  1. Lance Clayton in World’s Greatest Dad
  2. Chris Nielsen in What Dreams May Come
  3. Seymour “Sy” Parrish in One Hour Photo
  4. TBT: Dead Poet’s Society
  5. Alan Parrish in Jumanji
  6. Daniel Hillard/Mrs. Doubtfire in Mrs. Doubtfire

OCMC: Daniel Hillard/Mrs. Doubtfire in Mrs. Doubtfire

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mrs-doubtfireWe have reached the end of the voyage, dear friends. Our beloved Captain is due back on shore tomorrow, where he shall drop anchor and bid adieu to us after one fine week of sailing the high seas. I guess I better drop the metaphor before it gets even more confusing. Basically, now that the week where it’s been acceptable for me to say “Oh captain my captain” to pretty much everything is coming to a close, I’m feeling quite bittersweet about the whole thing.

I’ve really enjoyed going back and revisiting each of these moments (and many others) this week. I hope you all have as well, even though at times I’ve felt as if this OCMC tribute has been a little redundant. Not necessarily pointless, but it wasn’t as if we needed any more reminding of the man’s talents given the outpouring of support and love for the man over the last fortnight. Hopefully I haven’t so much sold you on anything as much as I’ve reminded people of why I, like millions of other fans, couldn’t help myself in verbalizing the pain I felt for his loss. It only seemed natural to suspend activities on DSB for one week and properly tip my hat to a performer I’ve idolized for awhile. Yes that’s right — idolized. (I promised myself a while ago that would be a word I’d never use. . .but, well. . .ehem.)

There are few characters created that become so successful, so endearing to audiences as to become greater than the film itself. In some instances they become standards to which other characters in said genre might be measured. I believe today’s entry more than qualifies.

Guys and gals I’d like you to (re)acquaint yourselves with Mrs. Euphegenia Doubtfire, a creation that could only have been Robin’s. A tough nanny with high standards of cleanliness and organization and a penchant for grooming well-behaved, cooperative children, she was essentially Mary Poppins with a Scottish accent and a beard. (Well, the beard’s implied. We knew she was a man, either way.) The character’s great, but the situation is what really projected Williams’ multi-tasking talents: Mrs. Doubtfire was actually the brilliant brain-nanny of desperate but talented voice actor Daniel Hillard who, after royally fumbling his marriage with Miranda (Sally Field), planned on remaining in his children’s lives in whatever capacity he may be able. He engineers a new character to look after the three tykes as Miranda is seemingly unable to do quality parenting of her own (oops, too harsh?) and could use the help. When the funny-talking, funny-looking she-male inadvertently impinges upon his ability to function in his own world, time will only tell before the cracks begin to show. And then. . .then what happens?

It may be worth mentioning that this is my very favorite role Robin Williams has played. His nanny is pure magic.

*

Quoted: “Carpe dentum. Seize the teeth!”

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Photo credits: http://www.imdb.com 

OCMC: Alan Parrish in Jumanji

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jumanji-1“AAAAHHHH!! AHHH!!! . . . . . . AH!”

Noises. Robin Williams came equipped with many of them, and in this outrageously fun film from the mid-90s, he’s provided an opportunity to tap into that part of him that was more. . . . shall we say, animalistic? As a child who got trapped inside the dangerous board game Jumanji, Alan Parrish has spent most of his “life” fighting for. . . well, a way out. An escape back to the real world.

And who can really blame him when he pops out of the middle of the game covered in vine and bramble, looking like George of the Jungle? I mean, my main man here is all hopped-up on some bath salts or something, dressed in foliage. Foliage dude. That style is SOOO 1960s. . .or whenever it was when he was rather unceremoniously consumed by a board game. When things were simple and dad made ends meet by pumping out shoes on a production line. Now (flash-forward roughly 20 years) it’s all complicated. Now kids are stumbling upon random board games in the loft of a mansion, getting into all kinds of trouble. . .like inviting random stampedes into the home or unleashing them upon the town. Bugs the size of Chihuahuas are the products of curious children snooping around where they perhaps shouldn’t.

But if there is one constant we always associate with the man when he’s up on the silver screen, it’s the adventure factor. Here is a film where that idea is exploited for the purpose of plot progression. In other words, comparatively Robin Williams is not the craziest thing about Jumanji; about a movie featuring kids battling flash floods and quick sand in their living rooms, and outlasting killer bees the size of, yes, small dogs. The environment is. Robin’s beard might be the craziest thing about his character. Well, that and the noises. Yes indeed, this is one of those performances that may not ultimately stand out from the crowd when comparing to his other creations but this is one that seamlessly blends in with the style and tone, this is Robin Williams basking in entertainment that, for once, has not been created wholly on his own.

When a new family moves into the Parrish’s gorgeous home twenty-six years after a strange occurrence involving the board game in the living room, history looks to repeat itself when two children — Judy (Kirsten Dunst) and Peter (Bradley Pierce) — discover the relic and begin playing, unaware that their first experience is merely a repetition of a vicious cycle that will bring to life some very real (and surreal) things. They dared roll the dice, now they must be prepared to face the consequences. . . .or at the very least, to face a very hairy Robin Williams.

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Quoted: “What happened to you, the Clampetts have a yard sale? What do you want, I never shaved before.”

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Photo credits: http://www.imdb.com 

TBT: Dead Poets Society (1989)

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As if this wasn’t going to happen you guys. . .

This is the perfect combination of fitting in with this month’s sort-of-theme (going back to school, woo!) and the ongoing tribute to one of my favorite performers of all time. We now have an opportunity to crack into what many of us probably hold dear to our hearts as one of the most touching Robin Williams performances. Though I doubt many grade-school classes have collectively taken a stand up on their desks in protest of their “oppressive teachers” and “unreasonable course loads,” few and far between are the folks who haven’t at least wanted to. Try coming across someone who hasn’t at some point quoted a line from  

Today’s food for thought: Dead Poet’s Society. 

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Carpe-ing the diem since: June 2, 1989

[DVD]

Somewhere out there is a teacher I am indebted to for introducing me to this film. I am a little embarrassed I can’t remember in what class I watched this, but I’m so fortunate that was the environment in which it was brought to my attention because I’m not typically drawn to school dramas, even with a name like Robin Williams in it. I’m fairly sure this would have been a title I might have avoided had it not been for the chance encounter in an English class.

Perhaps not. Inevitability might have had the final say on that, for Peter Weir’s ode to the fleeting nature of boyish idealism and romantic notions of challenging the status quo is a difficult one to avoid, and turned out to be so unlike the eponymous club of the initiated. Its influence has been ever-widening, like ripples in a pond gradually encompassing everything within its borders. One thinks of inspirational films, and good chance this title is one of the first five or ten that come to mind.

There were no rites of passage in getting to know William’s John Keating. Taking him into our hearts was a most natural transformation. His passionate, colorful and off-beat approach to educating his students — nay, enlightening them — was what made this film crackle to life, what made this place worth tolerating if you could take his words and make them apply to your own place in the universe.

“Tradition. Honor. Discipline. Excellence.” The four pillars of education echoed monotonously off physical ones, drowning in the catacombs of this most unholy of institutions. Attending a school like the stiff Walton Academy for Boys for even a single semester was more than enough time to become jaded, enough time for one’s skin to toughen to the point of becoming brittle in response to a cruel and demanding world built by dedicated workers, not daydreamers. After all, boys won’t be boys for long, and outside the walls of the prep academy lay a laundry list of matters of pressing urgency that demanded focus and seriousness of purpose. In the short term this necessarily implied preening one’s self for the pristine Ivy Leaguers. After that, perhaps careers of distinguished but quiet fame.

Dead Poets Society is written beautifully, weighing the values of traditional, old-school practicality against the inexplicable urgency of youth and individuality. The passion that threatened to tear the two conventions apart rightfully secured the Best Adapted Screenplay Oscar in 1990. Beyond bullish headmaster Mr. Nolan (Norman Lloyd) and the parade of tenured graybeards roaming the Academy’s hallways — threatening, as always, with a paddle to beat the next free-thinking so-and-so into submission — notions of conformity and obedience extended to peripheral characters such as Mr. Perry (Kurtwood Smith), in effect blanketing this 1950s scene in a snowdrift of almost inescapable bleakness. To a lesser extent, meek and mild Todd Anderson (Ethan Hawke) came from a well-to-do household that ultimately becomes divided over the John Keating situation. His situation was far less severe than Neal Perry’s, but it helped paint a bigger picture, a society still clinging on to old values in whatever way it could.

The harsh environs no doubt enhanced this newcomer’s rejuvenating presence. Not just because of Williams, but because the character was such a departure from everything these young and wide-eyeds had known; a much-needed warmth to melt away the layers of permanent frost this isolated community was erstwhile entrenched. I feel we’ve been indebted to the great Robin Williams in the same way I want to tell that teacher I owe him or her one. This experience is certainly one for the books.

4-0Recommendation: A film with little urgency for me to recommend. You’ve either caught this in class (or slept through it, who knows), or on television at some point, surely. An immensely popular film for all the right reasons, Dead Poets Society managed to capture the fleeting essence of boyhood developing into manhood in an era where tolerance for deviating from the norm was more frowned upon than encouraged. Packed to the brim with memorable and inspiring quotes, the film I recommend without restraint as your next Robin Williams adventure if you haven’t seen it already.

Rated: PG

Running Time: 128 mins.

TBTrivia: The irony in Robert Sean Leonard’s character’s struggles here are not lost upon dedicated viewers of the hit TV drama House, wherein Leonard plays one of the heartbeats in Dr. James Wilson, perhaps the only legitimate friend of the ornery Dr. Gregory House. Here, Neal Perry battles with his no-nonsense father about a career in acting, though his father demands he attend medical school. A request that comes at a price of tragic proportions.

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Photo credits: http://www.wallpaperpulse.com; http://www.imdb.com 

OCMC: Seymour “Sy” Parrish in One Hour Photo

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one_hour_photoHere we have one of those roles where Robin Williams simultaneously truly impressed me and deeply concerned me. His ability to detach — as evidenced by this chilling character, a lonely one-hour-photo developer named Seymour “Sy” Parrish — seemed like a mere eject button he could push (“get me outta here”), an escape route so desperately needed yet so subtle we never stopped to think about the fact he might be saying something more than what the script is telling him to bring to the table.

Yeah, yeah. . .the whole ‘reading into things too much.’ It’s all too easy to do when he’s just so different in this role, and incidentally more convincing here than in any other role he’s ever played, if you ask me. From a completely objective standpoint, this is perhaps Robin Williams’ most technically impressive role, as he dials down his manic energy to a 1 out of 10. It’s the kind of taut, disciplined lead performance that should have earned him more than a Saturn Award.

In the course of 90 minutes, we go from meeting Sy, a painfully awkward man who works diligently to make sure all the photos he develops are as high quality as they can be; to empathizing with a true loner who uses his job as a way to socialize with the outside world (namely the Yorkin family, his favorite customers); to becoming excruciatingly uncomfortable around a sociopathic man desperate to make one family’s life experiences and memories his own, living vicariously through the prints he develops for them on a regular basis. His initial friendliness morphs into an extreme associative psychological disorder that is portrayed with brilliance and bravery by Robin Williams.

I particularly like this scene, not only because it was the most readily-available clip I could find. . .like, anywhere, but because it. . .well, it freaks me out. This is so unlike Robin Williams, but goes to exemplify the actor’s depth. Granted, a great deal of what makes those ten seconds eeky-creeky is the stylistic flourishes applied by cinematographic genius Jeff Cronenworth, who bathes the entire affair in a haunting, listless monotone, but it’s still Williams dead-center, and wow. The first time I watched this film was immediately before going to bed. That was. . .kind of a mistake. . .

*

Quoted: “What the hell is wrong with these people?”

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Photo credits: http://www.imdb.com 

OCMC: Chris Nielsen in What Dreams May Come

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wdmc-1Despite What Dreams May Come possessing a healthy amount of material that tends to bring tears to the eye, here’s an ultimately uplifting and sweeping drama that appeals on a more universal level than Bobcat Goldthwait’s darkly comic rumination on the nature of the living memorializing those who have passed.

For anyone concerned about “what happens after death,” this film could be looked at as more than just powerful suggestion. Snagging the Academy Award for Best Visual Effects in 1998, Vincent Ward’s epic love story tells of a man wandering the afterlife in search of his wife after she kills herself when she finds it impossible to cope with the loss of her entire family in two separate car accidents.

In another one of my favorite dramatic overhauls, Robin Williams is at once vulnerable and desperate as Chris Nielsen. Once in heaven he does everything in his power to understand what is going on and how he can reconnect with his fragmented family. But when he learns an act of suicide means a direct ticket to Hell, Chris finds an entirely new purpose in the afterlife: rescuing his dear beloved from eternal agony.

To be completely honest I’m still reeling in the wake of the news but it’s getting easier each day. I miss the man dearly. I like to think he’s soaking up some nice shade underneath that beautiful blue Jacaranda.

*

Quoted: “A whole human life is just a heartbeat here in Heaven. Then we’ll all be together forever.”

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Photo credits: http://www.imdb.com 

OCMC: Lance Clayton in World’s Greatest Dad

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wgd-1Okay, I believe I’ve got this week mapped out the way I want. We’re going to start with the heavier performances and work our way out of the dark side of things. Like Anakin Skywalker, only trending in the opposite direction.

So this little. . .thing that I’m doing. . . .to pay proper tribute to the full range of acting chops Robin Williams undeniably possessed might seem like it’s starting a bit solemnly — I mean, I’m not sure you can find a darker comedy that this man has been in (perhaps Death to Smoochy gives it a run for its money) — but as the week goes on I’ll do my best to turn that frown upside-down by looking into some of his more funny moments. Come next Sunday, hopefully we will have built our way up to a fitting conclusion to this man’s legacy.

His wickedly fast comedic tongue most assuredly is what he’s most known for, though his markedly reserved dramatic persona is not to be ignored, either. Frequently these smaller moments in a career packed with bigger and more luminous ones are overlooked, because. . . well, we all do love it so when Robin makes us laugh.

Here, though, we couldn’t be further from that comfort. In this pitch-black comedy involving a high school teacher who is broken by his son’s suicide (and there’s no really good way of saying this) via autoerotic asphyxiation, Robin Williams demonstrates a truly heartbreaking reaction to his son’s untimely death. This one moment may be particularly sensitive given the events that have since transpired, but this is as good as I’ve ever seen Williams hold the screen as far as convincing us that real loss is going on around him.

World’s Greatest Dad is directed by none other than Bobcat Goldthwait (still the best name in the business, if you were to ask me. . .but you’re not so I guess we can move on) and stars Robin Williams as the aforementioned teacher; Daryl Sabara as his awful son Kyle; Alexie Gilmore as Lance’s love interest as well as colleague. . .and then several, several names you’ve likely never heard of.

The bulk of the movie’s emotional heft revolves around these key players, with various supporting roles showing up in the latter half of the film to offer support and their condolences to the shattered man. And this is precisely where the movie starts to take a really, really darkly comic turn. I don’t know. This movie is pretty weird, but I enjoy it. An overlooked piece for sure.

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Quoted: “Ernest Hemingway once said all he wanted to do was write one true sentence. He also tried to scratch an itch on the back of his head with a shotgun.”

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