Tallgent Reviews

Raging Bull (1980)

Maybe Scorsese's Best Film

[24 April 2000]

Images frozen for posterity are many in the history of motion pictures, but only a few encompass the film's meaning in that image. Rocky Balboa's running up the Philadelphia stairs is one such example. Then there is Jake La Motta (Robert De Niro) gracefully shadowboxing in the ring in slow motion while the sad but proud strains of Mascagni's "Cavalleria Rusticana" is playing on the soundtrack. Brute more than man, La Motta's barbarism finds its truest expression in the ring. Here to be less than a man is celebrated not despised. Here La Motta achieves peace. Peace that comes only in the ring, however. La Motta brings chaos and despair to his loved ones outside of it. "Raging Bull" charts Jake La Motta's journey toward finding peace outside of his arena. It is one of the most honest portrayals of redemption ever produced for the screen.

Scorsese teamed up with Paul Schrader, whom he had worked with on the archetypal film "Taxi Driver," to work on the screenplay. What shows are two storytellers at the top of their craft and Martin Scorsese reaching maturity.

The film opens with a paunchy, out-of-shape, La Motta going over his monologue for the evening's performance. He recites his trademark rhyme ad dictum: "So give me a stage where this Bull here can rage/ And though I can fight, I'd much rather recite...That's entertainment! That's entertainment."

Then we flash backward to a healthy, lean, and hungry La Motta in his quest for the Middleweight Title. Helping him along is his put-upon brother and manager, Joey (Joe Pesci). La Motta constantly badgers Joey about his wanting to be a heavyweight and having "small hands." To prove that he truly is a man, La Motta provokes Joey into hitting him. We see that Jake La Motta is insecure about his masculinity. What reaffirms it in La Motta's are his boxing and abrasive behavior.

One of the most commendable features about the film is the progression of success for La Motta and the regression of his home life. This escalates when La Motta meets his second wife, Vickie (Cathy Moriarty). Vickie, as portrayed by Moriarty, is a vision of incredible erotic beauty and this fuels jealousy in La Motta whenever she is around other men. He loses both his wife and his brother because of his jealousy and insecurity.

If this sounds like a depressing movie it most certainly is. But one of the points the movie makes is that when a person is at their lowest point, understanding comes, and then the potential for change can happen. That is where the power of the film lies, not in the self-destructive behavior of La Motta, but in the efforts he takes to save himself.

I mentioned before that Scorsese reached full maturity here. That maturity comes by way of the care he places in his filmmaking and storytelling. To Scorsese's credit he does not mince meat (but then again, when has he?) on his subject's repulsiveness. La Motta is a lout, a creep, insecure, childish, brutal, cruel, but also tender, vulnerable, and human.

I cannot say enough about the hallucinations that make up the boxing scenes. With the film shot almost entirely in black-and-white, the boxing sequences make full effect of the contrast and lighting. Strange animal noises are heard during the matches, reinforcing the barbaric nature of the contest. When La Motta loses his belt to Sugar Ray Robinson, the Catholicism-drenched Scorsese films it as La Motta's crucifixion. Robinson raises his fist on high like a passing of judgment. Finally, La Motta spreads his arms and welcomes the flurry of attacks in surrender, his blood spilling everywhere. After his defeat, La Motta still stands. "You didn't knock me down, Ray."

Joe Pesci went on to become a Scorsese staple after his fine portrayal of Joey La Motta. Joey suffers at the hands of his brother throughout the film, yet he still stands by him until Jake finally snaps. But the insecurity and jealousy that fester in Jake make their presence known in Joey as well as he repeatedly slams a car door on one of Vickie's prospective adulterers.

Cathy Moriarty had her first role as the seductive Vickie. Blonde and beautiful, shy and alluring, the audience can see why La Motta is drawn to this vision and determined to keep her even at the cost of losing her. Moriarty captures Vickie's impending sense of being a prisoner as she becomes quieter and more subservient as a wife than she ever was as La Motta's flirtatious girlfriend. She also shows strength as a mother as she fights to regain some semblance of sanity for her children. It is a heartbreaking performance.

De Niro captured the Academy Award for Best Actor as Jake La Motta. If ever there was a definition for acting in the "Method," De Niro's performance fits the bill. In his scenes as the retired and gluttonous La Motta, De Niro actually gained 200 pounds. The only thing prosthetic is his nose. It is doubtful if an actor will ever go to such pains for a performance again.

I'd have to say that this and "The Last Temptation of Christ" are the two most personal films of Scorsese. He even adds a nice coda from the Bible if there is any doubt to its story of redemption. "...Whether this man forgave my sins, I know not. I only know that once I was blind and now I can see."

The bull sees. Raging Bull ****

Topsy-Turvy (1999)

For the Love of the Theatre

[9/10 · 19 March 2000]

George Martin once talked about he and John Lennon once having a drink in a British pub. One of the regulars went over to the jukebox and selected "Yesterday." Lennon sighed, turned to Martin and said, "Don't suppose anyone's going to put in 'I am the Walrus?'" Martin went on to suggest that as frustrated as Lennon was of Paul McCartney's "Granny Music," he also couldn't deny McCartney's talent and the ease with which he came up with unforgettable melodies.

One senses the same kind of rivalry between Arthur Sullivan and William Gilbert in Mike Leigh's "Topsy-Turvy." Gilbert and Sullivan were both famous for their hilarious musical comedies in the mid to late 1880s, especially their early hits "H.M.S. Pinafore" and "The Pirates of Penzance." But the film takes place later in their career and things are not boding well for the duo. Sullivan (Alan Corduner) is growing increasingly frustrated with his collaborations with Gilbert, because he feels he is not growing as a composer. "I'm growing tired of these soufflés with Gilbert and his topsy-turvvydom."

Gilbert (Jim Broadbent) is feeling the crunch himself. His latest production with Sullivan has resulted in questions concerning Gilbert's creative spark, as in whether he has one. If that isn't enough, the Savoy Theatre tells the frustrated Sullivan that he and Gilbert are contractually obligated to one more show. Gilbert presents Sullivan with an idea. Sullivan responds that the idea sounds like a remake of an earlier play.

Then inspiration comes from the most unlikely of places. A Japanese Exhibit is being held in London and Gilbert's wife, Kitty (Lesley Manville) forces him to accompany her. Reluctantly Gilbert goes and, reenergized, he picks up a souvenir Samurai sword. He meets with Sullivan again and tells him his idea: "The Mikado." Thus is born Gilbert and Sullivan's last hit play.

The next half of the film deals with the backstage politics and adventures that go with putting on a production. It is here where "Topsy-Turvy" goes into full gear and really begins to shine. Broadbent and Corduner also shine in their respective roles, as well. And it is here where I really paid attention to Leigh's characterizations. The two never had a very friendly relationship and Sullivan was openly bored with Gilbert's silly plays. I always took it for Gilbert being a really witty and good-humored man, and Sullivan being a snob. But Leigh has Sullivan as a fun-loving hedonist and Gilbert being unpersonable and sarcastic. He uses humor as a weapon. The film forced me to look at the two of them in a new light, and more importantly, I bought it.

But Leigh's real achievement is in presenting his supporting cast as three-dimensional characters. There's Richard Temple (Timothy Spall) who plays the Mikado and suffers near-betrayal at the hands of his mentor, Gilbert. Actresses Jessie Bond (Dorothy Atkinson) and Lenora Braham (Shirley Henderson) personify the reluctant acceptance of wearing a kimono with no corset. Leigh brings the same care to this period drama as he has done for his smaller ensemble pieces.

And care is what "Topsy-Turvy" is all about. As much as Sullivan may frown at Gilbert's wit, he still wants to create the best possible product he can. There's a great scene where Gilbert is explaining "The Mikado" to Sullivan and Sullivan is truly enjoying the story. He's got such a look of glee on his face throughout the scene. Corduner does a great job of contrasting his Sullivan with Broadbent's Gilbert, especially in his scenes with the orchestra as he patiently explains the score with his players.

Broadbent, on the other hand, is an absolute joy as Gilbert. Gilbert may not be a likable character, but he knows what he wants and he is good at what he does. He may be short with everyone and unbending, but he gets results.

Leigh shows a clear love for the theatre here, and the details are amazing all the way from the theatre set to the costumes, nothing is out of place. He also keeps the action moving in the film which totals almost three hours but never feels like it. That's very hard to do.

To be honest, I thought Leigh was jumping on the "Shakespeare in Love" bandwagon, but the films couldn't be more different. "Shakespeare in Love" celebrates love burgeoning creativity. "Topsy-Turvy" deals with the love of creativity itself and shows how people of different temperaments and tastes can still get together and produce greatness.

Topsy-Turvy ****

Man on the Moon (1999)

Who is Andy Kaufman?

[8/10 · 19 March 2000]

Some called him a genius; others thought him insane. Myself, I would say unfunny. Of course, I'm talking about Jim Carrey. And it's only appropriate, I guess, that Carrey would play the part of Andy Kaufman, who falls under the same criteria. Milos Forman gives Carrey full rein with the role of Kaufman and Carrey delivers. The film itself, though, is more of a mixed bag. You have to be familiar with Kaufman to really appreciate the film.

Things start out in a Kaufmanesqe manner in a great opening that sets up the tone. Kaufman addresses the crowd directly to tell them a bit what the film is about. I won't give anything away, but this seemed to divide the audience immediately. Some found it hilarious, some were puzzled, and some were expecting a Jim Carrey film. They were unhappy when they didn't get it.

From there we go to Andy's childhood as we see him perform to his bedroom wall. Eventually, he gets nerve to perform on a stage, though things are lass than ideal for him as the manager tells him he isn't funny. But Andy's a survivor and he eventually wows a club with his Elvis act. Robert Shapiro (Danny DeVito) sees him and decides to take him under his wing as manager. Don't say he didn't get warned.

Andy then makes it big on the television show "Taxi" as mechanic Latka Gravas. Andy's experiences on the set are nicely dramatized in a clever montage featuring Judd Hirsch and Marilu Henner in their old roles of Alex Reiger and Elaine Nardo. Things seem to be going well, that is until Shapiro gets introduced to Andy's protege, the obnoxious Tony Clifton. To make matters worse for Shapiro (and heavenly for Andy) it seems that Andy Kaufman has found his calling, namely wrestling women. However, Andy gets more than he bargained for when he crosses paths with professional wrestler Jerry "The King" Lawler.

Finally, in the early 80s, Andy gets diagnosed with lung cancer. Andy tries all sorts of exotic treatments to cure his cancer, and in one painful moment all of his hucksterism and pulling-the-strings comes back to play a cruel joke. Andy's response? Laughter. He appreciates a good joke, even if it is life-or-death.

Forman's biography is not as illuminating into the mind of Kaufman as he makes it out to be. And I suppose it's just as well, the only one who totally knew Andy was Andy. Still, this film is a nice introduction to Kaufman and why he was more than just "Latka on Taxi."

But will people care? That I'm not so sure about. What I found interesting, at least with the audience I saw it with, was that more people were laughing at the "ordinary" behavior of Kaufman more than his act. For instance, many people thought a dinner between Andy and Shapiro was hilarious and a scene where Andy reads "The Great Gatsby" from front-to-back was stupid. One thing that bothered me was the reaction to his belief in transcendental meditation. Many in the audience got a kick out of seeing Andy with the weirdly dressed gurus. I was straight-faced because to Andy TM was serious and I respected that.

There is also a kind of fairy tale like feel to the story which I found to be distracting. But then one could make the argument that Andy saw his life as a fairy tale and that's fine. Still I had to keep reminding myself that Andy Kaufman did exist, that he did wrestle women, that he stretched performance art to its limits, and that he died of lung cancer. I wonder if people who went for Jim Carrey and not for Andy Kaufman understood all that.

As for Kaufman's place in stand-up history...let me put it this way, no one currently in stand-up is doing what he did, which says something. Lenny Bruce, Bill Cosby, Richard Pryor, Albert Brooks have all stuck with anecdotal, observational, and social humor. Kaufman didn't tell jokes. In fact, Kaufman did everything possible to not let humor be the end-all be-all of his act. It was reaction that he sought, whether it be a groan, a curse, applause or laughter. To him failure was success. He was basically a behaviorist.

Now whether non-fans will see all that, I don't know. In explaining him to one person I know, I used his "Mighty Mouse" act where Kaufman just stands there for three minutes, then he puts on the song and mouths the words on "Here I come to save the day!" She just looked at me, "That's just stupid." On the other hand, I took a guy to see it and he thought Kaufman wasn't funny at all. After the movie, he looks at me and says, "I get it now. I get what he was trying to do."

Andy would be proud.

Man on the Moon ***

In Search of the Famous Hoosier Breaded Tenderloin (1998 Video)

Hilarity in Hoosierville

[8/10 · 12 March 2000]

Jensen Rufe's heartfelt documentary plays like it's an examination of what makes the perfect Indiana Pork Tenderloin Sandwich, and the film does do that. But it is also a valentine to the one-of-a-kind populace that make up the Hoosier state.

The charts the "quest" of two filmmakers searching for the perfect Pork Tenderloin Sandwich. Along the way they give some history on the sandwich and ask various regulars and employees at Indiana restaurants what makes the perfect Tenderloin. The place where they seem to find it is Mr. Dave's Restaurant, owned by the gregarious and cantankerous Dave Clapp. Clapp is the ideal character of Midwestern sensibilities and his personality will bring a smile to your face.

In the end, though, what makes this film special is the gentle and affectionate manner with which Rufe presents the material. These are not stereotypical country bumpkins. Rufe allows his subjects to show what Hoosier pride is all about. Hopefully, Rufe will continue to grow as a filmmaker, and more importantly that his films will show as much grace and dignity "Tenderloin" shows.

In Search of the Famous Hoosier Breaded Tenderloin ***1/2

American Beauty (1999)

Beauty of a Film

[9/10 · 12 March 2000]

The Nineties might have to be titled the "Dysfunctional Decade." Popular Culture has been inundated with stories about dysfunctional families. Television has its animated example of "The Simpsons" and before that was "Roseanne." Movies have done their share of deconstructing the security of the nuclear family as well. Ang Lee's "The Ice Storm" portrayed a family in the Seventies that was in flux. "Happiness," Todd Solondz's look at the skeletons lurking underneath a seemingly normal family, took suburban hell to a disturbingly new level.

But "American Beauty" may go down as the definitive film on the subject. This is an almost perfect film, an impressive achievement for all involved. Especially first-time director Sam Mendes and screenwriter Alan Ball, who was previously producer for the sitcom "Cybil."

Kevin Spacey plays Lester Burnham, a man who informs us that he will be dead in less than a year..."Of course I don't know that, yet." As far as his life is concerned, however, he's already dead. He's married to a shrewish wife, Carolyn (Annette Bening), who is trying to usurp the current king of real estate (Peter Gallagher). Eventually she just beds him. Lester and Carolyn's marriage is falling apart, taking their teenage daughter Jane, played by Thora Birch, along with it.

Lester is about to be reborn, though, thanks to Jane's flirtatious provocative best friend, Angela (Mena Suvari). Angela becomes Lester's angel, spurring him to workout, quit his meaningless job and regain his life. Changes are also in store for young Jane who becomes the object of attention for next-door neighbor Ricky Fitts (Wes Bentley). Ricky has a thing for video-taping subjects that interest him, even if it means shooting through the Burnhams' window. Ricky has his own problems dealing with his disciplinarian dad, Colonel Fitts (Chris Cooper). Everything comes to a head by the end of the picture when we found out how Lester dies and how the other characters are involved.

Alan Ball has crafted a thorough and surprising screenplay, well deserving of its Golden Globe. Ball is not afraid to flirt with copping a legend as Lester provides narration from beyond the grave a la "Sunset Boulevard," nor is he afraid to be edgy and subversive as Ricky, a self-acknowledged drug dealer, provides the theme of the film. Beneath everything lies beauty. We see this beauty in Lester's transformation, of course. Every character, however, is allowed a shred of vulnerable beauty. Bening brings a human despair to Carolyn, especially when we see she is just as unfulfilled as Lester. Suvari's slut brings forth an insecurity that is palpable and empathetic. No one is one-dimensional, which is an amazing achievement for a film that could have very easily slipped into surface satire.

The credit must go to the cast and director Sam Mendes, Golden Globe winner for best drector. Mendes has worked prior to the film with theatrical productions of "Cabaret" and "The Blue Room" with Nicole Kidman's acclaimed performance. Mendes' theater-upbringing is evident as he allows for the characters to be three-dimensional. Burnham's lusting after Angela could very well have been distasteful and crude. But Spacey imbues him with such awkwardness that it is not unlike a nerd's crush with Miss Popular. His immature behavior is a nice humorous touch, but eventually this deepens into something poignant and bittersweet. Lester Burnham may be as archetypal a film character of the millennium as Benjamin Braddock was for the 20th Century.

This also bodes well for directors as Mendes' arrival may herald forth a theater/film renaissance on par with Elia Kazan and Mike Nichols in the 1950s and '60s. In fact this is already holding true as Julie Taymor, who directed Broadway's "The Lion King," is making a film version of Shakespeare's Titus Andronicus. Not to say that this is filmed play. Mendes proves to be a visual poet with evocative use of fantasy sequences involving lots of rose petals, and the counterpoint of suburbia at its drabbest.

But look closer...for as "American Beauty" teaches us in its epiphanal finale, nothing is without beauty and grace if one is willing to look for it.

American Beauty ****

Fight Club (1999)

All Pretension, No Punch

[4/10 · 5 March 2000]

Arguably, nihilism in films is best personified by David Fincher, who in only three films has already set his stamp on filmmaking. Of course, we didn't realize this until his second film which is the now classic "Seven." But in retrospect "Seven " was as bleak and despairing as anything done in mainstream cinema, and it was a Hollywood thriller no less. Then came "The Game," a disappointment, but with the intriguing premise of a bottled-up and unemotional man who in the course of his nightmarish "game" learns to live again. "Carpe Diem" a la Kafka. This same premise is put into a societal point of view with "Fight Club."

This is also Fincher's first literary adaptation. "Fight Club" comes to us via the novel written by Chuck Palahniuk. The film relates the story of a successful, yet depressed young man (Edward Norton) who has become an insomniac. He has a swanky apartment, catalog-ordered furniture, and a respectable position in a firm, yet he feels like he is missing out on life. He can't feel emotion anymore. On a whim, he visits a cancer-crisis group and bonds with Bob, played by Meatloaf, who now has breasts because of a rare cancer (insert laughter here). This bonding and emotional intimacy leads to catharsis and release, especially when he weeps between Bob's ample breasts. Not surprisingly, Norton sleeps well.

Things are moving along great. Never mind that he's using these victims as emotional pumps, the point is he feels again. Then comes an uninvited femme fatale played with unabashed scuzziness by Helena Bonham-Carter...and she used to do Merchant-Ivory?

Because of this fellow emotional sponge, Norton must look elsewhere. Enter Tyler Durden (Brad Pitt): Soap salesman and excrement chef who urinates in his customers' soups. These two bond by beating the crap out of each other. "I want you to hit me as hard as you can, " Durden says. Norton obliges by punching his ear.

Soon though, a friendship is formed and Norton loses his pad thanks to a freak fire. Norton stays with Durden and the two continue to pummel each other. Naturallly, other men gravitate. Finally, a club is established in which white-collar, civil, and cultured gentlemen become primal gladiators in a self-imposed ring. The object: Fight so one can feel masculine again.

As with anything purely physical (and make no mistake that is exactly what it is) Durden decides to up the ante a tad and create a full-fledged urban terrorism group. Nihilism by way of Fascism. You see, "Fight Club" is about destroying the modern spineless society so that men can go back to what they truly are, hunters. Only problem is where does one draw the line?

First off, the positive. "Fight Club" is technically brilliant. Audacious and stylistic, Fincher plays with our tale being told by Norton's narrator. So Norton talks directly to the camera, stops the film for a bit of background information on characters, and lets other characters comment as well. Durden explaining his story is hilarious and twisted. The camera swoops into Norton's brain at one point and we take a stroll around his pad even seeing the price for each item. The energy is infectious and the acting by all the principles, especially Norton and Carter are top-notch.

Is there any negative? Yep.

I felt dirty watching this film. I felt the same way when watching "Natural Born Killers." Yes, it was satire as I'm sure "Fight Club" is as well. But the satire seems to be unfocused. What exactly is the point of seeing guys pummel each other and pick fights with innocents? Does Fincher support the premise of violence to save souls or are they all doomed anyway? And I must be getting soft, but there were scenes that grossed me out, specifically the human fat scene (Don't ask). Satire does not work by exaggeration alone; there needs to be purpose. That's something "A Clockwork Orange" had. Yes, it was violent and disturbing. But there was a point to the film. Science cannot curb man's morality nor should it. What does "Fight Club" say, let's all revert back to cavemen? Sorry, not interested.

The ending is just plain dumb. I will not reveal anything, but be prepared for pretension deluxe.

A friend of mine compared this film to "American Beauty" saying that both films dealt with changing one's humdrum existence into a life full of meaning. But "Beauty" had something that "Fight Club" lacked. Humanity. At the end of "Beauty", Lester Burnham thinks he has found purpose in enjoying life again, but he realizes that his life had purpose all along because of his family. Burnham comes full circle. We never get that kind of revelation in "Club." The selfishness in achieving nirvana through nihilism remains and a hollowness remains at the film's center.

Fincher's movies are disturbing, that's just a given. But their saving grace, especially in the case of "Seven," is their imagination and story. "Fight Club" has its imagination as well. However, because of its trite story, I can't say it was a saving anything.

Being John Malkovich (1999)

Farcical Dark Comedy

[8/10 · 5 March 2000]

If Music Video Auteur, Spike Jonze's first feature-length film is any indication, this will be someone to keep an eye on. Jonze is to Music Videos what Steven Spielberg is to movies. Two videos in particular, Weezer's "Buddy Holly" and "Sabotage" by the Beastie Boys have become classics. "Holly" spliced footage from "Happy Days" with Weezer playing in a mock-up of Arnold's. "Sabotage" was a skillful parody of 1970s police dramas a la "Starsky and Hutch." My personal favorite, though, is Bjork's "Oh, So Quiet" which was an affectionate homage to Fred Astaire dance musicals. All of his videos are known for their creativity and visual flair.

So one would expect a lot of flair from "Being John Malkovich." Strangely enough, not in this film. "Being John Malkovich" has enough chutzpah and imagination from its very strange story.

John Cusack plays a down-on-his-luck, and facial-hair covered, puppeteer named Craig. In any other movie that may sound like a cliche, but in a hilarious opening sequence, Craig performs a beautiful yet highly erotic puppet show. And of course the only people watching it are a very traumatized nine-year-old and her outraged father. Said father then punches Craig. Our puppeteer hero is married to Lotte, an almost unrecognizable and homely-looking Cameron Diaz. Lotte is a pet store owner who keeps most of the pets in their cramped apartment. It seems the young married couple are experiencing financial woes and Cusack must go get a "real" job. Since he's good with his fingers, he gets a job as a filer in an office building....on the 7 1/2 floor.

Things get stranger. The floor has incredibly low ceilings so everyone must spend their time hunched over. The film does a great subtle job in the weirdness. Brief reactions of bemusement are given by Cusack, but nothing over-the-top. Weirdness filters in and out of life after all. Why do you need to act surprised? It is on this floor that Craig first lays eyes on Maxine (Catharine Keener) and falls in lust with her. Maxine is not impressed with our puppeteer and is even less impressed when he tells her his talent. "You still play with toys?"

Things couldn't get any worse, right? But they do get weirder. As Cusack is filing one day he happens across a little door behind a file cabinet. Curious, he enters the door and finds a portal that leads into John Malkovich's consciousness. Yes, John Malkovich. Otherwise the title wouldn't make much sense. The catch is that he can only spend 15 minutes in the body before being spit out on the New Jersey Turnpike. Why New Jersey? Why not?

Later he tells his wife about the metaphysical ramifications about this particular Pandora's door. She tries it out anyway and finds she enjoys being a man. Meanwhile, Cusack tells Maxine about the door and she comes across a capital idea of turning in some profit from people who want to be a celebrity. That distinction is important. A great running joke of the film is that everyone knows who John Malkovich is but they can't recall any of the films that he has done. Everyone just wants to be someone else for fifteen minutes.

Things get more complicated as each member of our trio wants to use Malkovich for their own means. Then Malkovich gets wind of the door and enters into his own consciousness. And if that ain't weird enough, don't worry. You'll have plenty to go "Wha?" about.

Kaufman has got his own brand of logic to this illogical story. There are certain subversions to classic character traits. For instance, Malkovich the victim comes up with the most logical idea: Seal the damn door. But it lasts for only three minutes as his humane plea goes unheard. I felt sorry for Malkovich the character. Then there is our hero. He at first tries the door out, then feels reluctant to share this information citing metaphysical inconsistencies that could prove irreparable. But when Maxine begins to show interest in Malkovich, Craig goes ahead just to be with Maxine. In fact everyone in the film is suffering from some form of obsession; even Lotte disregards Malkovich's right to exist as an individual because she wants to complete her self-actualization as a man and consummate with Maxine as Malkovich.

That I think prevents this film from being four stars. The first thirty minutes are farce funny as it piles on layers and layers of strangeness. Then things take a dark turn as Malkovich becomes Cusack's ultimate puppet. I get the sense that nothing went unheeded with detail. Everything makes sense in the story; nothing is weird for weirdness's sake.

The cast does an excellent job. Especially John Malkovich for allowing himself to be in on the joke. He seems to be having fun. Cusack proves himself in another wonderful performance as a nobody schnook-hero who turns into a monster. Keener makes a great bitch. And Diaz is terrific as a homely wife who finds her happiness by pursuing masculinity in Malkovich.

But Spike Jonze provides intelligent restraint. One can almost imagine what Hollywood would do with a story like this, probably add some computer effects for the portal and the expending on the New Jersey Turnpike. Again, the story is fantastical enough that added effects would underscore the artificiality of the film. In other words, there is a nice sense of realism in the details.

I actually had a nightmare after the film in which I dreamt there was another consciousness dwelling inside me. So that must say something about what kind of effect it had on me. The scary thing about "Being John Malkovich" is that if there was a way for people to change their identities, they probably would. The question is would they want to go back. Would you?

Toy Story 2 (1999)

Much more than a kid's movie

[9/10 · 5 March 2000]

The first Toy Story was largely confined to little Andy's room and his dreaded neighbor's house. When we pick up the story in "Toy Story 2," Buzz Lightyear is in outer space where he meets his arch-nemesis, Emperor Zurg. In a cheeky opening, the rules devised by Lasseter and his Pixar staff are laid out: There are no rules.

Buzz flies through caverns, enters Zurg's stronghold, and gets defeated (gasp) by the evil Zurg! Is this the end of our hero?....Nah, it's just Rex playing the Buzz Lightyear video game and losing. It is Yard Sale Day and the toys are understandably tense. You see, Yard Sale Day means that the old toys go out to the sale. Woody has reason to be nervous, he's starting to show his age. He's got a ripped arm thanks to Andy's dog, whom we got introduced to at the end of the first Toy Story. Sure enough, one of the toy troop gets taken. Poor Weezie the Penguin was laid forgotten on Andy's bookcase and he promptly gets put in the sale box. It's up to Woody to save him, which he does. But he gets picked up by a greedy toy-collector named Al and taken to Al's Toy Barn. Seems Woody is pretty valuable and Al wants to sell him to a toy auction. Can Buzz and friends save him in time?

Ho-hum, sounds like a harmless little kid's movie, doesn't it? But remember Lassetter and the rules, or lack thereof? Well, things take quite a poignant turn.

In a magical sequence that's an homage to Howdy-Doody, Woody learns that he was part of an old 1950s children's puppet show along with some other toys from the show, the salty Prospector Pete (Kelsey Grammar), Jessie the Yodelling Cowgirl (played brilliantly by Joan Cusack), and Woody's faithful steed. As Pete tells Woody, toy collecting means immortality. Woody and his new friends will be preserved in cases for admiring eyes to faun over. Woody's days with Andy are numbered. This point is further emphasized by a heartbreaking song sung by Sarah Maclachlan that tells the story of how Jessie's owner abandoned her because, well, she grew up. Pete says, "Do you really think Andy will take you to his high school graduation or to college?" Talk about a bind. Does Woody go back to Andy and have fleeting fun or stay preserved in predictable permanence?

Meanwhile, Andy's gang have their own awakenings to paths not taken. Mr. Potato Head sees temptation incarnate in some friendly Barbies ("I'm a married spud! I'm a married spud!") and Buzz comes face to face with a new Buzz Lightyear figure....who turns out to be as self-delusional as he was. You mean, they're all like this?! And the knockout punch: Buzz faces his mortal foe, Emperor Zurg and confronts a shattering secret. Hint: Think "Star Wars."

Pixar has come a long way since the first "Toy Story." The computer animation is absolutely amazing as the toys have much more dimension and realism in the details than the original. Once again everyone is terrific, especially Cusack who injects soul in the spunky and slighted Jessie. References abound, from "2001" to "Star Wars." Plus some inside jokes concerning Toy Story's lack of merchandise production also make their way. Even a sly suggestive joke or two slips in. Hint: Watch Buzz's wings at the end.

I cannot say enough about one sequence in particular with Buzz and the gang crossing the street. Lasseter directs this scene with great skill and comic placement. I was in tears at this point, and this was a "kid's" movie!

But, as with the first one, what really got me engaged was the story, as affecting a story as I have seen live or animated. If I can make an outlandish statement, Toy Story seems to be reaching for something akin to the "Star Wars Trilogy" or even the "Godfather Trilogy." Not so much for epicness, but for how the story gets deeper and richer as it goes along. "Star Wars" was an entertaining space opera, "Empire Strikes Back" was a mythic, dark, operatic chapter in a saga. "Godfather" was an exciting and classically-influenced masterwork, "Godfather Part II" was a quiet, dark, character study that reveals Michael's moral bankruptcy and the decline of the Corleone empire.

Lasseter's plan intrigues me. With "Toy Story", the plot revolved around a buddy picture that showed the bond between an old toy and new toy, and that being a toy is the best thing in the world. This bittersweet second chapter addresses what happens after the toys aren't needed anymore. What happens now? Where will I go? Will I be loved again? I wonder if with the third, if there is one, we'll see what makes a toy timeless. What separates a Woody or Buzz from Rex the Dinosaur or Slinky the Dog? And I wonder what the ultimate fate of our friends actually is. I'm hoping they get passed on to Andy's children and his grandchildren, throughout all the generations. I wouldn't worry about Buzz and Woody, though. They're already timeless.