J.D. Hansel

New Movie Reviews

Ladyhawke Review

by

One of the personal projects I’ve been meaning to start working on recently is writing an analysis of a sub-genre of fantasy.  I call it the “Eighties Fantasy Quest”, and it’s basically a genre for films that feel very much like ’80s movies, yet focus on an adventure through a world full of mythological characters, fairy tale creatures, “high fantasy” concepts, or new things that feel like they spring from one of these three territories.  Think of The NeverEnding Story, The Dark Crystal, Willow, Time Bandits, Return to Oz, Legend, Conan the Barbarian, and any other films from the ’80s that don’t just have a fantasy element but in fact seem to drown the viewer in magic, mythology, darkness, and dragons.  Obviously, this is a very diverse group of films, so I’ve been trying to find a way to map them out – separating the little girls from the big brutes and the films from Pythoners from the serious adventure thrillers.  To help me with this, I decided to watch a film that seems related to this genre and that’s considered an ’80s classic: Big Trouble in Little China.

I thought Big Trouble was fun and all, but I don’t think it was quite what I had in mind.  It fits into the genre, but for the most part, I didn’t feel like I was “taken away” to another world – and even Masters of the Universe, which largely takes place in our world, managed to give me that feeling.  As much as I enjoyed how immensely ’80s it is, I needed something with more magic, whimsy, and fairy tale-like qualities.  It also has a protagonist that’s more on the “barbarian” end of the spectrum of the EFQ genre – the place where hyper-masculinity is sold to the male viewers, although I couldn’t tell if the film was sincere about it.  Big Trouble has an odd tonal inconsistency in that Jack Burton is sometimes a joke – an American stereotype who thinks he’s invincible, unbeatable, and irresistible, but is actually an ignorant clown – and sometimes he’s genuinely cool.  Regardless, I needed something a little less macho and a little more “classical.”

Enter Ladyhawke, the high-fructose corn syrup to sugar’s Princess Bride – I know it’s not really quite as good, but at times it’s surprisingly very satisfying.  The Princess Bride certainly has the more memorable scenes, quotes, and characters, but Ladyhawke has a lot in its corner as well.  Conceptually, this is the kind of story one wants from a fantasy romance – something more than the usual “long-lost lover rescues damsel in distress from evil royal person” bit – offering a clever set-up for romantic tension and a unique reason for the audience to be concerned with the characters.  This movie doesn’t have as many fairy tale tropes as Princess Bride, or even Labyrinth, but the high concept at its core (which I refuse to spoil for those who haven’t seen the film yet) puts a distinctly “fairy tale” kind of magic at the heart of the story, making the film feel like a fairy tale storybook for adults.  I think with the benefit of a few trolls, wizards, giants, dwarfs, fairies, centaurs, goblins, or dragons, it would be just the kind of fantasy story I adore.

With that said, if we shift the focus away from what the film does not do and towards what the film does do, it doesn’t do anything too badly.  It’s playful with the “hero’s journey” arc, giving two (or perhaps three) characters the role of the hero against a villain whom the audience really wants to see killed.  Matthew Broderick’s accent is hilariously inconsistent, but that actually seems to add to the charm of his character, who has some very good dialogue and a cleverly-written ongoing chat with God.  The romance is completely believable, and the movie’s closing has just the right amount of heart in just the right way.  What really sells the story, however, is the score by Alan Parsons, whose band has recorded some of my favorite songs.  The music Parsons brings to the film makes excellent use of the ’80s synthesizer, giving the film that special quality of being both very timeless and very dated in the best way possible.  When all of its odd ingredients are put together, the result is an ’80s classic that will probably hit the spot for anyone in the mood for a truly magical love story.

Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid Review

by

This film seems to have three aims: paying tribute to Classical Hollywood, parodying film noir, and successfully integrating actors from old movies into the film’s story only using footage of them taken from their classic films.  With its first goal, the film is successful.  The love that this crew and cast have for classic movies – down to the lights, sets, and costumes – is abundantly evident and infectious.  This is a perfectly serviceable “nostalgia fest,” but as a movie, it’s not that funny.  There are a few good laughs in the film, such as the spin on Lauren Bacall’s classic line, “Just put your lips together and blow,” but the comedy was generally underwhelming (and occasionally juvenile).  I think this is because the movie was both a tribute and a parody – it simply repeated elements of film noir and played them as parody if they seemed funny and as tribute if they weren’t.  Had the creative team focused more on putting comedic twists on the film noir tropes they were supposed to spoof, I think the movie could have been much better, but as it is, it almost seems as though the comedy was an afterthought.

For its third task, however, Dead Men is impressive and satisfying.  In a time before CGI, it’s hard to think of how Steve Martin could share a scene with a young Fred MacMurray, but this film pulls off the trick fairly convincingly.  It’s true that the difference between the scenes shot in the 1940s and the scenes shot in the 1980s is very noticeable from the film quality, but the effect is still better than Rogue One‘s cartoon Peter Cushing.  This is not only a technical feat, but a testament to great writing, masterfully crafting a story that can use old dialogue in new ways (besting even the interview collages of “Weird Al” Yankovic).  This third task is the part of the film that stands out – the part that shows Reiner and Martin’s intelligence.  So, as the saying goes, “two out of three ain’t bad,” but if the primary goal is for it to be entertaining and make people laugh, Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid leaves much to be desired.

Rocky Horror Picture Show Review

by

This movie is often compared to Phantom of the Paradise, with fans of each film arguing about which is better.  While I would certainly put myself on “Team Phantom” in this debate, I’m not sure that this is a fair comparison seeing as how they are so incredibly different.  Phantom is careful and thoughtful, setting up a story that manages to be simple, yet detailed, derivative, yet surprising.  Rocky Horror just happens.  While it can be said that each film is something wild that happens to the viewer, Rocky Horror isn’t as focused on a story, a causal chain, a logic, a message, or an argument – it’s just things happening.

The kinds of things that happen are a mix.  Some of the music is great and memorable, but a lot of it is completely forgettable.  The soundtrack is largely just average ’70s pop, without much to make it stand out, so after a while it all runs together, and it becomes a little bit annoying when one song ends only for another to begin.  In a way, however, this is part of the beauty of the film.  It doesn’t really care what it is, so long as it keeps on being whatever the heck it’s supposed to be.  This ‘devil may care’ attitude empowers the film to be charmingly weird, with excellent visuals, bizarre humor, unconventional editing, random turns in the plot, inexplicable changes of character, and very memorable performances.

The structure is essentially a series of “Big-Lipped Alligator Moments.”  Generally, a movie is supposed to have two kinds of transitions: “therefore” and “but then.”  This film, on the other hand, has only one transition: “and now this is happening, and now this is happening, and now this is happening.”  While the musical upon which this film is based is clearly the result of at least one “trip,” the movie feels like a dream – it feels mostly random and spontaneous, but there are important recurring themes and logical connections between different parts of the film (such as the appearance of Tim Curry in the wedding photos).  The film offers no explanation for itself and no apologies – it just drags the viewer along for a wild ride with no questions asked, and for that I greatly appreciate it.

The Apartment Review

by

It’s amazing to me just how different someone’s conception of a film can be from what it actually turns out to be, especially because of marketing.  Consider the above image.  Fortunately, I don’t think I saw this front cover image before seeing the film, but if I had, I certainly would’ve gotten the wrong idea entirely.  This gives one the impression that it’s a simple, brainless, lighthearted comedy about two men (seemingly equal in status) rivaling for the heart of the same woman.  As a matter of fact, the movie is not brainless – I don’t think any Billy Wilder films are – and it’s not very light – it’s actually so adult as to challenge everything I thought I understood about the Production Code (which is also usual for Wilder films).  Without giving too much plot away, here’s the premise: a man works his way up through his company by offering his apartment to his bosses as a secret place for them to have extra-marital affairs.  Obviously, it’s also a romantic comedy.

I first became interested in this movie simply because it was a high-ranking Wilder comedy, but then I became more interested when I saw in on Rob Walker’s list of “alternative” Christmas movies to watch during the 2016 holiday season.  I’m not sure if a movie counts as a “Christmas movie” simply by taking place around Christmas and New Year’s, but if so, this isn’t a bad film to watch during the holidays.  That being said, I don’t think it’s particularly heartwarming, and I’m not even sure of what moral lesson I’ve learned from it.  I know that I got caught up in the drama more than the comedy, although I couldn’t understand why Jack Lemmon’s character handled the situations he found himself in so unwisely when he could have done a better job of explaining himself and keeping his good name.  Still, I like Lemmon’s performance, Fred MacMurray’s character is perfect, and I care for Shirley MacLaine’s character in all the ways I’m supposed to.  It may be a very slow and tedious film at times, but it’s clever and it works, making for a very cynical, yet beautiful romance.

The Seven Year Itch Review

by

This film is absolutely mad – or at the very least its protagonist is.  It had been a long time since it had last seen a Billy Wilder comedy, but after seeing Double Indemnity this past Autumn, I was naturally interested in seeing if his comedies could be as intelligent as his dramas.  I was not disappointed, but I was surprised by just how far this story dives into madness, creating a crazy comedy about romance instead of a romantic comedy.  I think this is where the film’s intelligence is found: it recognizes with brilliant observation just how absurd the human imagination is when fueled by fear, lust, and images from fictions, almost making it a criticism of its own medium.  Admittedly, the screenplay is clever, but not quite as funny as it could be, and Marilyn is sexy, but not quite at her best as a performer, so I watched it in parts over time to prevent boredom.  In spite of this, it’s definitely the must-see comedy movie of its era because it taps into the anxieties of the adult, straight, American male on a level few films have apart from The Graduate (and because I cannot believe it was approved by the code).  This makes it a perfect introduction to the inner-workings of the male mind, and it has the benefits of stylistic charms and hearty laughs to make it a thoroughly enjoyable experience.

When Harry Met Sally Review

by

For those of us who didn’t grow up in the 1980s, it can be very difficult to imagine a time when Billy Crystal was young, handsome, and a viable romantic lead.  He seems like such a comic figure that it would be impossible for him to play a character with a lot of heart, and yet he’s perfectly cast in this film.  He fits into the character type of the street-wise all-American wise-cracker who never knows when to quit and who lives for the tickle of the feathers he ruffles.  Meg Ryan, by contrast, is the Bert to his Ernie – the straight man who lives a very orderly and particular life and must see to it that everything is precisely as it ought to be.  The idea of taking this kind of duo and watching it develop into a romance may not be entirely original to When Harry Met Sally, but this film does it especially well.

Perhaps the better pairing in the film, however, is not a couple of characters, but a duo behind the camera – Nora Ephron and Rob Reiner.  By this point in his career, Reiner had demonstrated that he could do comedies that were fairly brutal (This Is Spinal Tap) and love stories that had just the right amount of heart in just the right places (The Princess Bride).  Ephron, on the other hand, seemed to be best at making films in this particular genre with this particular sentiment, saturating her scripts in nostalgia and seeking out a way to keep the magic of Classical Hollywood believable in an age of cynicism.  Consequently, the two forces put together inevitably resulted in a film that has lots of laughs and lots of heart, never going too far with either.  Roger Ebert rightly noted that it has a resemblance to Woody Allen films, which largely has to do with the excellent choices of old jazz standards.  The structure of the film is rather unconventional and artistic in a way, which I attribute to the clever craftsmanship of these two creative forces.

I’ll concede that it took me a long time to finish the movie – I frequently took breaks from it for days and I rarely felt the compulsion to find out what happened next (which I blame on the story’s predictability) – but it was worth it to finish it.  It’s simply a pretty package of pure charm.