chip98 Reviews

Sesame Street (1969– )

Celebrate.... what?

[24 July 2000]

Every five years, PBS celebrates "Sesame Street's" apparent TV immortality with a something-ith anniversary. Sadly, that is all it has to celebrate--that a bunch of variously-talented do-gooders have kept their jobs, and their funding.

What has the national literacy rate done over these last 30 years of "Sesame Street"? It has gone *down*. Mathematical acumen of our students? Down. Familiarity with history and civics? Down. Behavior problems? Up. (Ask the teachers themselves, who at the drop of a hat go on strike about anything. Why don't they go on strike about *that*?)

And so, every five years, PBS celebrates... what?

"If PBS won't do it, who will?" So the pitch goes. But what exactly do they claim to be doing?

Longitude (2000)

A timely epic

[23 July 2000]

Long, but worth it! A blessed antidote to MTV's Tom Green and the rest of the scumbag-chic that passes for culture these days. Based on the brilliant history of the same name by Dava Sobel.

In the days when ships measured themselves by yardage of sail and bank of cannon, knowing your north-south latitude was easy. Finding your east-west longitude however (and keeping your ship off the reefs) was hit-and-miss. That could get you killed. The cure was to know the time in London, precisely, but keeping time accurate on a rolling ship was tougher than keeping milk fresh; pendulum clocks need stable ground, and pendulum clocks were all they had.

Queen Anne (Br., 1665-1714) had another idea: a 20,000 pound-sterling prize to anyone who had a solution. Problem was, no one expected a country carpenter cum-clockmaker to do it. John Harrison (Michael Gambon) was that carpenter, and it became *his* problem--a three-decades-long problem. It would also pose one for Rupert Gould (Jeremy Irons) two centuries later, as a marriage-busting, sanity-breaking obsession over restoring Harrison's neglected prototypes: clocks that could keep time at sea better than the quartz-timed digital you might be wearing now.

"Longitude" weaves seamlessly--almost--between the two eras, tracking the exertions and miseries of John Harrison and Rupert Gould with the same kind of synchronicity Harrison spent half his life pitching to astronomers who had scarce respect for the tinkerings of a hayseed. Michael Gambon's passionate performance as John Harrison is truly Oscar-calibre, eclipsing Irons--but only because the tunnel-visioned Rupert Gould is hardly a vehicle for the memorable. Too bad this was "only" a TV mini-series. As a theatrical release it would have lent due reknown to a scarce-remembered true epic of genius.

Watch this when you get the chance. Then go punch Tom Green in the nose.

Sleepy Hollow (1999)

Sleepy, and hollow

[27 June 2000]

"Sleepy Hollow" is a pretty accurate moniker for this version of Washington Irving's classic tale--it can make you sleepy, and it is hollow.

Johnny Depp as Ichabod Crane is way out of his depth here; whether by sheer inexperience, bad direction or bad writing, it is hard to tell. Likely one of the last two, as the accomplished actress Christina Ricci scarcely comes off any better and it is such a shame. There is too much melodrama, too much glowering and too much over-acting, all of which crushes any attempt at subtlety, if any was intended. Some of it is plain ridiculous, and none of it scary for anyone over age ten or with an I.Q. over 70. (Its good points: lavish scenery, and an impressive but-all-too-brief appearance by a very evil-looking Christopher Walken as the head-hungry Hessian Horseman.)

And that's just the first hour. I simply could not bother to watch the rest.

Galaxy Quest (1999)

Worth a sequel?

[24 June 2000]

The sci-fi spoof to end all sci-fi spoofs, a satisfying satire of the whole Trekkie thing (about time, don't you think?) that never takes itself too seriously. The problem with most of the genre (like "Spaceballs") is that they don't take themselves seriously enough.

Jason Nesmith / 'Peter Taggart' (Tim Allen) is a splendid William Shatner analogue, the one rah-rah member of the jaded and weary cast of a TV series called "Galaxy Quest", all of whom are doomed to Post-Cancellation Hell: making endless rounds of the sci-fi conventions. But salvation descends literally from the heavens in peaceful-but-gullible alien fans who think it's all real, and needing salvation themselves from the evil Sarris (Robin Sachs as a convincing kind of half-Klingon half-crustacean). No doubt 'Commander Taggart' can save them! That the gawky aliens fit in fine with the usual freak and geek conventioneers is funny commentary in itself. It is a succulent transition when the "crew" make the shocking high-speed career-move from stilted has-beens to starship hotshots.

Speaking of casts--Sigourney Weaver (as Gewn DeMarco / 'Lt. Tawny Madison') has never been more gorgeous or droll. And picture Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock in a fist fight--there you have Nesmith and Sir Alexander Dane / 'Dr. Lazarus' (Alan Rickman). Few actors play snide embitterment as well as Rickman, and one wonders if he had Chevy Chase in mind, the "Spock" in a now-legendary SNL Star Trek parody. (A sneering Dane to an about-to-be-martyred Nesmith: "Yes, it's all about yoooou, isn't it?") Rickman deserved at least a Best Supporting nomination. Why didn't he get it?

Some surprising scene-stealing by Tony Shaloub, as the possibly psychopathic Fred Kwan / 'Sgt. Chen'. Shaloub is a wellspring of dry wit that toys hilariously with Guy Fleegman (Sam Rockwell), a tag-along nobody as frantically certain of his expendability in real-life as his bit part was in Episode 82--like those Star Trek crewmen who you knew would get killed early. Something of a pity, however, that the sole African-American principal player has a role that is almost back-of-the-bus, and it is a missed opportunity (Daryl Mitchell as Tommy Webber / 'Lt. Laredo').

But a missed opportunity as well if you don't see "Galaxy Quest," one of our better comedies, and certainly one of the classiest . . . do I smell a sequel?

Dogma (1999)

"Porky's" goes to church

[21 June 2000]

There are at least two things we can conclude from Kevin Smith's "Dogma." One, Kevin Smith hates the rest of us, though he probably doesn't know it; and two, Alanis Morrisette can't act to save her life. This last not being Alanis's fault (and she does sparkle a bit), but Smith compounds the problem by saddling her with a tiny but profoundly pivotal role even the most talented actress would have trouble pulling off.

"Dogma" is at once hilarious, weighty, and obscene. Hilarious, because it would take an Al Gore to botch its comic premise: two fallen seraphim (Affleck and Damon) can return to Heaven from Wisconsin exile only by way of Red Bank, N.J. (my birthplace, incidentally); said re-entry and its disastrous consequence preventable solely by a Catholic abortion-clinic worker of holy pedigree (a gorgeous Linda Fiorentino), a couple of wayward, trash-talking potheads--well, one of them talks--and the 13th Apostle (Chris Rock, and he's a hoot). Weighty, because hey, we're talking about the Apocalypse, and a benevolent, very real and very Catholic God. How often does Hollywood do *that?*

And it is obscene. Kevin Smith reduces this otherwise grand parable to a trivialized, foul-mouthed vaudeville act, a theological "Porky's." This is the hate shining through. Everyone, even the angels, from Metatron (Alan Rickman) on down is blasphemous, cynical of the Almighty's competence and working mightily to either cover the Lord's tail or make a canonical end-run around Her infallibility. (Yes, God is a woman, and she looks like Alanis Morrisette.) Hasn't Kevin Smith heard that most Americans still believe in God, a belief that, by definition, even among the unchurched, places God as diametrical from the imperfect, the scatological and the sexual as He is from Satan?

I'm sure he has. Smith just didn't care, a negligence born out of a contempt for his audience *and* for God. Why else have a dimunitive no-talent like Morrisette play the Supreme Being? (Believe me, Morrisette is utterly clueless.) God, who never volunteers star turns, deserves a convincing stand-in. He, or She, does not get one. Mr. Smith will likely have some explaining to do come Judgement Day.

Analyze This (1999)

Could use a shrink

[18 June 2000]

"Analyze This" is not just a title but an invitation--it does indeed deserve some analysis. But none of our hard-earned money.

It starts out hilarious and believable, but half-way through it rapidly degrades into caricature and silliness, and just plain runs out of gas. Even DeNiro sounds off his feed; I didn't buy those crying jags for even a second. Other than Lisa Kudrow the only consistent brightness is the juvenile-jolly wit of Kyle Sabihy (as Michael Sobol), but the chance of a rollicking train-wreck (or rollicking anything) between future step-mom and step-son is frittered away, alas. And Billy Crystal? Well, he does with it the best he can, no flies on him.

Which is all just too bad. "Analyze This" has a terrific premise (a mobster who muscles up some therapy) and an acerbic, under-used and achingly luscious Kudrow, who not once sports anything briefer than skirt-and-blouse--oh, come on! Some of this takes place in Bal Harbour, so stuff that delicious babe in a bikini! (And some more-serious roles. She deserves them.)

The Thin Red Line (1998)

The Thin Plot Line

[18 June 2000]

What if John Wayne and Oliver Stone had together made a film about the invasion of Guadalcanal? What would you get? Something like "The Thin Red Line."

Or maybe something better--focus, cohesive plot, and characters worth sympathy. "Thin Red Line" has almost none of that. What *is* worthwhile is its dispassionate exam of the demoralizing; no matter how evil the enemy or how "good" the war, war is still hell. It is however a pity (and waste of talent) that combat's winnowing of the courageous and strong from the marching hordes of the average doesn't get across to us. Courage is instead mere naivete or disguised desperation, and strength a kind of inevitable brutality, and as interesting as all that might be by itself we still get a barely engaging story. Throw in a slew of sensual but too-vague flashbacks, battle scenes only above-average and an aftermath straight out of Oliver Stone of the capture of a Japanese base camp, and soon the demoralized characters demoralize the audience. This is no "Saving Private Ryan."

Strong performances from all involved, especially from Penn and Nolte, and from Harrelson were it not for a role brief as a cameo, casualty of a weak plot. The lush scenery is a big help, too. Not much else does. And when it all ends, as the victors depart Guadalcanal and a job not very well done, it is more evaporation than ending.

A Simple Plan (1998)

Immense, grim, proverbial

[11 February 2000]

It's December in Minnesota, and an honest man, his nee'r-do-well brother and a drunk, hen-pecked prone-to-violence pal stumble onto ill-gotten millions. Add the spooky brilliance of director Sam Raimi and no one need explain the rest.

There are films we classify as "capers": "The Hot Rock", "What's Up, Doc?", "$", "Some Like It Hot," but irony is as close to the tragic as these comedies get. If there is anything wrong with the caper of "A Simple Plan," it is its immense grimness--from almost the first frame we know we are in for a journey into the underbelly of something, and Raimi holds us hostage by cruelly dangling in front of our eyes the hope that Hank, Sarah, Jacob and Lou will not any moment be swallowed alive by the twists of a "simple" plan never simple to start with and going deadly complicated, and it is exhausting.

But you cannot let it go. These people could be our neighbors, our own families, ourselves even, mired in battles not only between good and evil but between the rational and the irrational, between greed and loyalty, of friends against family. Guess which lose. On that level "A Simple Plan" is epic and proverbial, and well worth the lesson.

Shakespeare in Love (1998)

Hard to beat

[23 January 2000]

Really extraordinary. Won 1998 Best Picture and deserved it but for "Saving Private Ryan," which should have gotten the nod but wow, tough call. Everything works here (that soundtrack!), but strangely enough, the best is the ending-titles scene--Viola, alone, marooned, crossing the beach of a new world, a figment of Shakespeare's imagination but no less a bitter and true allegory. Gwynneth Paltrow as Viola is a performance that goes beyond description; a fantastic and ethereal presence that is surely what secured Best Picture, and who's complaining? The critics called "Shakespeare in Love" a "must-see", and for once they were right.

Notting Hill (1999)

A 1999 must-see.

[23 January 2000]

One of the purest examples of cinematic escapism, and no criticism meant; a romantic comedy for the Everyman and all of it quite plausible.

The role of super-actress Anna Scott is Julia Roberts' best performance since "The Pelican Brief," perhaps her best, period. We see Anna as William Thacker sees her (Hugh Grant), a luminous and fantastic interloper into the day-to-day humdrum, her every close-up a blaze of unreal beauty and we almost feel sorry for the guy--could even a real-life Hugh Grant deal with her? (Nevermind the rest of us, poor losers of the genetic lottery.) But sometimes goddesses *do* descend from Olympus (it isn't all paradise up their, either), and if Anna can find salvation in the ordinary and average, so can we. Even the below-mediocre will have their day; would that all slackers and derelicts had the charm of the out-to-lunch Spike, Thacker's roomie (an impeccable Rhys Ifans). Spike is a scene-stealer and never before has a funnier low-life ever graced the screen, so-to-speak.

But such stories can never be ours. So we buy tickets to the nearest thing possible, and sometimes it is worth it and other times not, but "Notting Hill" very much so.

And Julia, if you are reading this--would you care to have dinner with me sometime? ;)

Rushmore (1998)

matchless and satisfying

[18 January 2000]

Caution: "Rushmore" can leave you speechless. A sparkling little comedy that has few rivals, done in an engrossing style reminiscent of 60's suburban satires.

Priceless moments abound as the 15-year-old super-precocious under-achiever Max Fischer (exquisitely played by Jason Schwartzman) matches wits--and childishness--with the jaded industrialist Herman Blume (Bill Murray) for the love of a brainy peaches-and-cream schoolteacher. A fine premise, but what good any premise without dialogue and talent of calibre to save it from floundering in the shallows? "Rushmore" goes deep and stays deep; all of its characters retain humanity and credibility even in extremis, and no one degrades into caricature. There is a gloomy stretch (no "Animal House" this), but only because Max *must* get his well-deserved lumps, at the same moment that we lose sight of Bill Murray--but that is soon gratifyingly rectified, a testament to Murray's deadpan genius.

There are many memorable lines. One of Blume's, seeming to refer to the sturm and drang of one of Max's plays, but we know better: "I just hope it ends happy." It does, indeed.

Dreams (1990)

profound and puzzling

[11 January 2000]

"Dreams and Death" would be a more accurate title--it's a moody, mystical montage that strays never far from past or impending doom. Though not quite Kurosawa's best, "Dreams" falters only with an anti-nuclear melt-down/erupting-Mt.Fuji yarn that soon bores and confuses, enough said. (Hit the fast-forward!) The rest is stylish magic that will not soon leave your mind:

A young boy must seek forgiveness, or suicide, after witnessing a wedding of foxes; another is forgiven his family's cutting of an orchard by the trees themselves, and granted a farewell vision. An aspiring artist meets the doomed Van Gogh himself in the master's own landscapes come stunningly to life. A captain, waylaid on his way home by the spirits of his wiped-out company, must issue the final order--but how do you send the snarling shade of a once-faithful bomb-dog to its rest? Another ghost lovingly seduces an exhausted mountaineer into the deadly embrace of a blizzard. . . and a lone hiker finds an almost-utopian mill village that knows no fear or sorrow for life's ultimate reward. (Witness here, if nothing else in "Dreams," one of the most extraordinary musical funeral processions ever put to film.)

Superb cinematography throughout (excepting some unsteady long-shots in the orchard sequence, unexplainable and inexcusable). A grand addition to any film collection.

Rashomon (1950)

pentultimate story-telling

[30 September 1999]

Kurosawa at his story-telling best, as two men and a Shinto priest try to convince one another of their own wildly differing versions of a ghastly murder. The true facts of the crime are never established, leaving in the end the only truth that matters--an act of simple human compassion.

Contains one of the most chilling spirit-possession scenes ever put to film.

The Cook, the Thief, His Wife & Her Lover (1989)

Pointless surrealism

[26 September 1999]

Cinematic surrealism about a gangster/resturanteur who torments and mutilates anyone who annoys him, then does more of the same when he exacts revenge on his wife's lover; most of the mayhem occuring in a gloomy gormet eatery against a backdrop of a perpetually nocturnal and lawless city.

You would have to seek out Nazi concentration-camp survivors to find witnesses of anything more vulgar and obscene than "The Cook, The Thief, His Wife & Her Lover." Allegedly a satire on Margaret Thatcher, but is it really a satire if you have to do a library search to uncover its target? (My first hunch was Josef Stalin!) Fine production values, a solid (if simplistic) plot and good performances lend this movie a high technical polish--but it's all still gold-plate on dog manure.

Worth watching if you care to dabble in the avant-garde shallows of the British Loony Left. And it is all shallows.

Little Fugitive (1953)

A Day in the Life of Joey Norton

[19 August 1999]

"The Little Fugitive" is less a movie than it is an immaculately pristine and wistful time-capsule of the '50's. A self-exiled 7-year-old wanders an amusement park in a now long-lost world free--relatively speaking--of child-molesters and out-of-control tort lawyers. Filmed on location on Coney Island, using only its crowds and beach as it was in the Summer of 1953, and not a phony backdrop or clueless extra anywhere in sight. In high-quality black & white that misses nothing.

Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (1991)

cinematic piffle

[15 August 1999]

How do you walk from the English Channel to Nottingham in less than a day? How do you do that and still get to visit Hadrian's Wall up near Scotland? Since when did the Moors invent the telescope? Why can't this film's "accomplished" star even bother to affect an English accent?

When I ask these questions, friends look at me funny and say, "Mitch, it's just a movie." To which I answer: No, it's a legend-based story written, produced, directed and edited by allegedly educated men and women who should have known better. But this requires too much thinking. Watching "Prince of Thieves" requires little, so have at it, it's quite watchable and even fun at times if you leave your brains out of it (if you have any).

Danger: Diabolik (1968)

No danger at all

[15 August 1999]

Psychiatric wards shoud show "Danger: Diabolik" to new admissions as a routine test. If the new patients like it or show no reaction, then they have probably had a lobotomy--or they had seen "Diabolik" before, and performed self-lobotomies in desperation.

A valuable diagnostic tool!

Final Justice (1984)

Inept

[9 July 1999]

Should be retitled "How Not to Make A Movie." (No, really--in that respect it is worth the study.) Some of it was filmed in Malta, which might qualify as an act of war against the Maltese.

The overloaded dialogue is awful, the talent is scant, the premise is thinner than a kleenex, the cinematography is grade-school in quality, the sets are nondescript, the fight scenes are silly and not even a Mother Teresa could sympathize with these characters. How did Joe Don get roped into this one?

"Final Justice" has two things going for it: Crow, Mike and Tom Servo get in good digs at it on Mystery Science Theater 3000, and some of the credits are funny. ("Sitting Drunk," "Walking Drunk.")

Porky's (1981)

yeeech

[11 June 1999]

In the distant future, historians and archaeologists will scratch their heads about what started the collapse of Western civilization and culture. One day they will dig up a copy of "Porky's" and they will shout "Ah ha!"

Blue Sky (1994)

Seen it, and was IN it

[5 June 1999]

Jessica Lange's supporting-actress Oscar is one of a few noteworthy things about the abysmally boring "Blue Sky." Viewing it by rental, I rewound it little more than halfway through and promptly returned it--its rare interesting scenes just weren't enough. Sub-mediocre melodrama hobbled further by an antiquated Hollywood anti-nuclear slant. Geez, won't they ever quit? Sadly, Mr. Richardson's last film.

Some trivia:

Shot in 1990, but not released until 1995, as Orion Pictures was mired in Chapter 11 litigation.

Nearly all of it was filmed in Alabama, including Pacific island scenes which really didn't fool anyone.

At what is now a de-commissioned Army air base outside Selma, AL, I was one of Blue Sky's extras, a soldier marching at the head of a parade column through which Miss Lange's character barrels through with her 50's Buick. (I think it was a Buick.) The first really hot day of summer '90, and I will always remember Mr. Richardson wearing a windbreaker. He gave me a line: "Look out!", which ended up on the cutting-room floor, no great loss.

An observation: our infantry rifles were manufacturer-stamped "Blue Sky Industries--Virginia" on the barrels. Either a coincidence, or these were custom-made (and expensive) props.

At the casting call in Montgomery prospects were given lines ("sides") to try on-camera. My sides were from an excerpt that was a bald-faced and senseless humiliation of an Army officer, which I don't think made it through final editing and perhaps was never shot. Seen perhaps out of context but the feeling was plainly anti-military, akin to 1960's Billy Jack-style agitprop. (See title "Billy Jack") The hippies are still with us, alas.

Dr. Katz, Professional Therapist (1995–2002)

hee-hee-hee-hee-hee....

[25 May 1999]

Absolute, flat-out funny. Animation as minimalist as "South Park" (and far more intelligent) doesn't hinder and in fact complements tremendous voice-over talent and great writing. George Lucas, take note.

The Red Shoes (1948)

A stunner

[24 May 1999]

A story of a tragic fairy-tale becoming all too real in the telling. Years ahead of its time; the debut of Victoria Page (Moira Shearer) in the title ballet is a stunner and demands serious study from up-and-coming directors and writers. Easily ranks with the top 50 of all films. A rarity on U.S. television but the video is an easier find.

Dragon Ball Z: The Tree of Might (1990)

oddly watchable

[28 April 1999]

Currently seen as a series on the Cartoon Network as "Dragon Ball Z".

Really, how much bad can you say about outer-space martial-arts Eastern-mystic characters bent on destroying--or saving--Earth (they're always trying to destroy or save Earth) as they trade barbs in London cockney or Texas drawls? Though DBZ hails from the high end of low-rent Japanese anime, it is often visually stunning and always different. Beats World Championship Wrestling any day. Full of cliffhangers and sometimes unintentionally funny. Don't try to figure out the premise or plot, just shift your brain into neutral, lie back and watch.

The Three Musketeers (1973)

a worthy romp

[23 April 1999]

An almost faultless little comedy/action/drama that deserves much comment. Beautifully shot in a fly-on-the-wall style (of which we see much too little and rarely done right elsewhere) that accents contrasts of grandeur and nobility against filth and peasantry in 17th-century France. Everything is perfect, including a gorgeously daffy Racquel Welch (why are we cloning sheep--let's clone her!) and humor worthy of Shakespeare. Shame on you if you haven't seen this one. Filmed simultaneously with "The Four Musketeers" and, thankfully, before the advent of Steadicam.

The Witches of Eastwick (1987)

Dubious good.

[11 April 1999]

Don't watch this on a Sunday. Loosely based (I hope!) on John Updike's story, one comes away from this feeling dirty, its apparent underlying message: There is a Satan, but God is AWOL or plain helpless. A perfect example of entertainment and repulsiveness combined. Oh, sure, everything works, from Pfeiffer's innocence to Nicholson as Hell's minion (who could play it better) to the cinematography, and even Cher's often nebulous acting... but all of it to what end? It's cholesterol for the soul.