Day Fifty-two - Outsourced, or "Cliche, but somewhat on the nose and harmless."

I was totally in the mood for The Birdcage after yesterday's horrible revisit to early Murder, She Wrote. Unfortunately, at some point in the last few weeks between when I added it to my queue and having the desire, nay, need to watch it, the Williams/Lane/Hackman/Wiest comedy classic was dropped from Netflix.

:(

So, instead, in dire need of a pickmeup (but when am I not, lately), I took a chance on what looked to be a possibly racist, possibly culturally aware romantic comedy, Outsourced.

And, yeah, there are a few bits that made me uncomfortable... especially when the leads, Todd and Asha, trade accents for a scene. It's a little amusing, mostly awkward, and partly forgiven as they lampshade just how horrible that particular bit was.

Overall, though, Outsourced is a fairly okay look at culture shock. Sure, it had cliched bits like the street urchin with a heart of gold and sticky fingers, but even as it's by the numbers, it's faithful to its outline without seeming too crass or heavy-handed. Even the crude bits are toned in such a way that they're funny, not gratuitous.

I just wish that the love story could've been the focus. Todd and Asha's courtship doesn't even start until their second act trip to pick up a wayward package and, even as it progresses, it's certainly not the focus of the feature as I would it want to be, being the lovesick lonely puppy that I am. What could have been a study of their relationship as a continuum is more just an intro picture for ignorant Westerners to the cultural basics of modern India.

I'm also not a fan of how they portray the caste system in the country. While, yes, there are very stark differences illustrated in the film between the high tech professionals and the very, very poor, even going so far as to reach an olive branch between the two and have a nice sit down to visually represent just how meager an existence so many people live there, it's only visually shown. I very much felt the need for verbal confirmation and discussion.

But, then again, I wanted a love story, so what do I know.

Personally, I was kind of confused with the way the call center imploded... I was sort of expecting them all to band together and form their own independent contracting group seeing as how the company was just going to write off all the equipment (save for the plasma screen that the American executive steals for himself), but I was pretty satisfied with Todd's homecoming as a more serene individual, better for his time in India.

And, it didn't hurt that the fade to black was on his phone ringing to Asha's Bollywood tune. No sappy reunion where one decides to take the plunge and commit to the other's world, just a nice moment where we know the possibility of their breaking convention exists and it's up to them to make it work out of our, the audience's, sight.

Until tomorrow, Potatoes~

Day Fifty-one - Murder, She Wrote: Season 1, Episode 3, or "Why are there no gay men here?"

You may think that's a strange thing to ask, especially concerning an 80's murder mystery about a middle-aged female author who solves killings as a sort of hobby, but, I assure you, the question is definitely begged by this episode.

It does so not because the episode is set in San Francisco, what could be the prime city for Friends of Dorothy in America, but because it's set in San Francisco at a Drag Club.

Wait! Excuse me... it is a nightclub, no one says anything about Drag Queens. In fact, its feature act is a comedian who plays the drums. Wha-huh? Did that just happen? I know, I can't believe it either, but what is even worse is that, even though it's just billed as the top hot spot of The City's nightlife and two of the three acts we see are men in women's clothing, it's not a Drag Club.

No, it's a nightclub... that features "female impersonators." Not Drag Queens... impersonators. What's weirder? These impersonators are completely straight. And I mean completely straight. One is having an affair with the club owner's wife and the other is engaged to Jessica Fletcher's niece (one of the many she accumulates over the series).

I'm sorry, but there's just something wrong about a Drag Club that isn't a Drag Club... and Queens who aren't Queens. Now, I've got nothing against transvestites who are straight, BUT THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE SAN FRANCISCO!

And not a gay man in sight.

You know, at least until we get to the police station where a butch biker propositions Zack Allen (the late Jeff Conaway) for a date, which is, of course, met with hostility instead of a polite refusal.

I realize this was the 80's and we were right in the middle of the Reagan culture war... that Will & Grace's much hyped kiss between two men and Ellen's very public coming out were more than a decade off, but still... I'm more than a bit disappointed.

Anyways, most everyone is annoying in this episode, even Jessica. The bit players have no depth and the suspects all make you hate them. Jeff Conaway is obviously a fall guy, but he's only in the situation because of a plot hammer that is hard to believe. Martin Landau is horribly underutilized as the victim (would've been MUCH better as the killer), and Gabe Kaplan? Woof.

What could have been a progressive episode for its time was either too cowardly or two overwritten by network censors. The latter seems most likely to me as it was a CBS show... and said network is not entirely known for its forward thinking views.

Ah well. No use crying over spilled milk, but I know that this episode's preposterous notions did sour me on continuing to revisit Murder, She Wrote for the near future.

Maybe I should watch The Birdcage next to balance it out?

Until tomorrow, Potatoes~

Day Fifty - Jumanji, or "Surprisingly romantic and layered for a family movie."

Most family adventure movies tend to rely heavily on the cheese factor, especially when it comes to one-liners and sight gags. Where Robin Williams is involved, you'd think that would most certainly be the case. Especially when you consider some of his other 90's roles like Mrs.Doubtfire and Flubber, both misses that seem to show up regularly as low rent Saturday afternoon movies.

It's because of those titles that folks often miss his rather varied 90's catalog that is filled with gems like Jack, The Birdcage, Good Will Hunting, Bicentennial Man, and... Jumanji.

I really love this film both for breaking traditional plot structure (by having not one, but TWO prologue chapters) and for not forcing its child characters to have cutsey, cliche problems. There's a lot of darkness in these kids lives... from violent bullying to parental death and separation to the very real and scary thought of institutionalization.

For the most part, all of those issues are mostly asides during actual plot progression, but they're not without merit to the motivations of both sets of children.

Additionally, there's great symbolism involved when it comes to how Jumanji plays on the fears of its participants. This is most obvious and played to great effect when it comes to The Great White Hunter, Van Pelt, who is performed by Jonathan Hyde who plays both Van Pelt and Alan's father Sam Parrish. It's a great reversal of the protector/antagonist role of the parent.

Jumanji was also a good film for its lead actresses to shine, as I adore Bonnie Hunt's flaky fake psychic and Kirstin Dunst's sweet and protective early teen who is also a pathological liar. I really can't say the same for Bonnie's younger self, played by Laura Bell Bundy, but oh well.

Now, of course the CGI is obviously dated, but for the most part it holds up. The same could be said for most of the film's puppetry. I can't exactly get behind the cheap plastic spiders towards the climax, but the poisonous jungle vines and the lion work pretty darn well. Granted, both are created using a hybrid of CGI and practical effects, but still.

And the rhino who lags behind the stampede is just too adorable.

I think my only problem with the film is the disappearance of David Alan Grier after he and Bebe Neuwirth end up on wooden doors during the flood sequence. She manages to show back up to the house for a nice freakout scene, but David's "Soul-man" character, who's spent a great deal of the film chasing down the Jumanji players (Alan, particularly), is nowhere to be seen until after the universe reset at the Christmas Party.

That, to me, was quite a let down.

Still, Jumanji is a great film, even if it's showing its age and I very much recommend it as a family feature, even if it CAN be a little dark (there's a madman running around with high-powered rifles for half the movie, for crying out loud!).

Until tomorrow, Potatoes~

Day Forty-nine - Phineas and Ferb: Across the 2nd Dimension, or "Epic (Made for TV) Movie Time!"

With 80's week over, I felt the need to bring back an old favorite to the Blog in order to not necessarily purge that New Wave taste from my mouth, but return me to some sense of post-millennial normalcy.

To do so, I decided to queue up the P&F made for television movie, Across the 2nd Dimension, which has the boys inadvertently helping Dr.Doofenschmirtz create a portal to an alternate dimension. Not really clear on why Doof wanted to do so, but that's generally the case with most of his Inators.

Anyways, since Perry the Platypus couldn't break cover in front of the boys to stop it, they all are transported along the great dimensional circle to a reality where Doof is an actually competent evil scientist and has taken the Tri-State Area over and everyone and everything is Doof branded and miserable.

Of course, things go wrong when the more-evil Doof decides to invade the boys' reality and dooms them all to, well, doom!

I really like this super-extra-long episode as it fulfills quite a few fanboi dreams of the show: the boys finding out that Perry is a secret agent, their ultimate human/platypus teamup, a Candace that actually participates in the shenanigans (which happens occasionally in the series, but I just like alt-Candace's attitude)... and Isabella finally lays one on Phineas.

Sadly, there are quite a few things missing or that are awkward in their implementation. For one thing, there's no alt-Vanessa. I would've really have liked to see her either more-evil version or have her show up as a resistance mole or something. At the very least, there needed to be a moment for her and either alt-Ferb or regular Ferb.

Plus, it was weird having Major Monogram as alt-Doof's butler or aide de camp or swami or whatever he was in the 2nd dimension... especially when he showed up post-thwarting with the alt-dimension Fireside Girls to arrest alt-Doof. Made no sense.

I did like the climax, though, where a deus ex device that Major Monogram introduced at the beginning of the movie is used to recreate every cool invention the boys have made all summer in order to fight the invasion of Norm-bots from the portal. It was a fun way to remind us of the good times and allow the kids and townspeople (with musical accompaniment by Love Handel!) take up arms against the overpowered Norm-bots.

Fun times, I just wish they didn't have to rely on a memory-wipe to reset everything at the end of the episode. For one thing, they could start cross-polinating the A and B stories of the regular show more often... and for another, Isabella and Phineas could finally stop the whole "one's ignorance to the love rays of the other's" bit. Sure, it's a tried and true sitcom gag, but it's run its course over the years. Need some development!

If you're a fan of P&F, I heartily recommend it. It's a quadruple long episode with tons of fun... and its tie-in game isn't that bad either. Not great, but not bad.

Until tomorrow, Potatoes~

Day Forty-eight - Murder, She Wrote: Season 1, Episodes 1 & 2, or "Melodrama mystery for the retired set!"

I have a special place in my heart for Murder, She Wrote.

For one thing, it stars the incomparable Angela Lansbury in the lead role of part-time writer, part-time police consultant Jessica Fletcher, who, as we see in this two-parter pilot, is reluctant to be either.

For another, its a series about a writer who done good: published, bestseller, happy, active.

But, mostly, there's this one last thing. Murder, She Wrote was one of the few "adult" series that my parents allowed me to watch in the 80's. Jessica, along with Angus MacGyver, were the heroes I grew up with, fighting for truth, justice, and the sensible, intelligent way.

Now, that's not to say the series is excellent. It suffers horribly from obvious melodrama.

There's nothing really smart about it, to tell the truth, aside from Jessica's occasional one liners at the expense of someone looking down their nose at her. The two clues that were the key to the whole mystery were a single interaction between the victim and culprit, the reasoning for which was buried in post reveal dialogue, and a misspoken excuse, not actual clue-finding. The latter I can forgive, the former... not at all. 

Additionally, the supporting characters lack depth and serve only as possible suspects or victims. It would have been nice if her nephew Grady had his own ambitions, or one or two of the misdirects had cleverer explanations.

Still, as silly as it is, it's harmless.

Sure, it mentions sex in passing, but in that prim way of yesteryear, where the furthest a suitor got was first base and a fade out. It's certainly not Magnum, PI, with its skinny dipping Swedish tourists... nor is it anywhere close to Miami Vice with its bedrooms and onscreen strangulation.

One benefit to the pilot was Ned Beatty as the half-bumbling, half-competent chief of police for the small commuter community where Jessica's first murder takes place. I always love it when good stage and cinema actors take on supporting roles like this on television. It's gotten to be the norm, now, where producers mine the b and c-level casting lists for movie stars, perhaps on the decline, who want to move to television and pick up a steady paycheck. That's certainly the case with most procedurals. I'm making it sound negative, but it's actually a great thing and helped here.

Anyways, If you like your murder mysteries tame, then Murder, She Wrote is for you... in fact, I'd probably say that were its audience around today, they'd be watching NCIS.

But, I do love Jessica Fletcher. She's a smart, Agatha Christie-style investigator who always gets her killer, even at the expense of her own desires, muted though they may be. Plus, as I said before, she's an author... and I always have a soft spot for those in cinema and television (go Castle!).

Until tomorrow, Potatoes~

Day Forty-seven - Flashdance, or "Pittsburgh... where most dreams die a horrible death."

When you consider the wide catalog of film from the 80's, invariably there are a few that infected the cultural zeitgeist despite themselves, whether it was due to their music or imagery... action or eroticism.

Flashdance takes three of these and tries to make them its own.

There's no action, of course, unless you count the rather awkward parking lot assault and attempted rape by my very favorite Lee Ving (who played Mr.Body in Clue), but there's plenty of the other three. Mostly in the form of the occasional "classy" strip club sequences where nubile young women of the 80's, complete with power haircuts and toned bodies, dance down to their thongs and wet t-shirts (but never all the way, remember, Mawby's Bar is the "classy" one) to punk, rock, and soul.

Lead actress Jennifer Beals is one such exotic dancer, Alex, who has dreams of joining a renowned Pittsburgh dance troupe. Unfortunately, when confronted with the bevy of younger, well-trained applicants, she chickens out... and spends most of the movie trying to gather her courage.

It's not all indecision, though, as Alex isn't just a dancer... she's also an 18-year-old journeyman welder (must've started at 15 to get her union card so fast) who works for Michael Nouri's character, Nick Hurley, the rich owner of the construction company who came from the streets and made good for himself.

Sure, he's trolling Mawby's strip club with his foreman, but he's still a gentleman.

Anyway, the movie follows mostly Alex, but also the peripheral characters, her friends Richie and Jeanie, who have dreams of their own... to be a comedian and ice skater, respectively... but whose aspirations may not be in their cards.

To be honest, as annoying as Richie's laugh is, and it IS that grating, I rather enjoyed his small background arc as a fry cook trying to make it big. Sure, it doesn't turn out all that great, but he remains a standup guy pretty much throughout. There's a seed of doubt planted when he comes back for Halloween having failed and it's revealed that he never called Jeanie after he left, but I prefer to think he was making a clean break, not trying to hurt her, and her judgement is obviously impaired seeing as how her revenge is to hook up with the movie's resident scumbag, Johnny C. (Lee Ving).

Jeanie's fall from grace is a bit more problematic. She goes from accepting a large tip from said scumbag to dressing slutty and baring it all in his club between her appearances (which are brief since we're always on Alex). Hard to sympathize with her. True, she didn't make the Ice Capades, or Ice Dance America, or whatever it was, but she had a great support cushion in her family. Richie leaving for LA to try and follow HIS dream shouldn't have pushed her into the arms of Johnny C..

Ah well.

That's kind of the problem with this movie. Everyone is plot-forced into acting stupidly. Alex and her jealousy and pride, Nick and his meddling, the background characters and their general flakiness.

It doesn't help that there are weird music montages that don't seem to fit at all with the narrative... like the gym sequence and its unintentional comedy and the street dance sequence (that actually worked till we got to the traffic cop). It was like FAME performance art. I mean, at least with Fame, they were at a school of the arts.

Still, it's iconic. It's not great, by any stretch, but it's iconic. It could be argued that it defined what it was to be an independent woman for pretty much the rest of the decade... and that makes me a little sad.

I mean, it was great how Alex tried to keep her personal life separate from her day job and how she went (tentatively) after her dreams, but the message that she needed to be pushed... and had to have help, wasn't very empowering.

At least she picked herself back up and started again... I just wanted more than Nick picking up the phone and getting her the audition. It would've been more satisfying... for me and for Alex.

Until tomorrow, Potatoes~

Day Forty-six - Biloxi Blues, or "For some reason, my memory told me this was Cadance."

For the longest time, I thought this and Charlie Sheen's 1990 film, Cadance, were the same movie.

It's weird. I remember seeing the poster for Biloxi Blues hanging in the extra panels of those mall map kiosks at Southlake Mall in suburban Atlanta, and I remember Charlie and Laurence Fishburne doing their bit with the chain gang song, and that's it.

In my memory, the two were one and the same.

Of course, I was tremendously wrong.

For one thing, Biloxi Blues is a film adaptation of Neil Simon's coming of age stage play where a New York Jew goes through basic training. Not to say that Cadance isn't an alright film (I probably won't find out any time soon as it's not on Netflix), but Biloxi has a better pedigree when it comes to its author (I say that with no intended slight to Gorgon Weaver).

For another, while Charlie probably has more notoriety and a wider movie catalog, the 80's were Matthew Broderick's time. Be it Project X, Ferris Bueller, or Wargames, you cannot say that it wasn't his decade.

This entry into his filmography is decent enough, but is really rather lacking in comparison. Especially to Ferris Bueller. Granted, it's better than Project X, but at least in that film I was able to go goo-goo over a young Helen Hunt (she's still a fox, by the way... or, was the last movie I saw her in, As Good As It Gets).

Anyways, back to Biloxi Blues.

A sort of ensemble film, where a group of fresh recruits to the Army at the tail end of WW2, with Broderick as its main focus and narrator, Biloxi is a tale of "America, The Melting Pot," as the core six all come from different places and have a hard time coming together as a unit and as friends.

Of course, it doesn't help that Christopher Walken is their drill sergeant and takes an instant disliking to both Private Jerome (Broderick) and his fellow Jewish compatriot, Epstein, who is an odd fellow to say the least.

I like Chris Walken's character, but I never really feel a sense of menace from him, not even towards the end of the film where he confronts the two New York misfits in a drunken stupor where he is brandishing a gun and threatening their lives.

To be honest, I couldn't tell if he was homicidal, suicidal, both, or neither and just joking. The entire sequence of scenes during the climax and falling action felt more like a somewhat boring, somewhat disingenuous dream sequence.

Really, Walken had nothing on R.Lee Ermey in Full Metal Jacket, but maybe I shouldn't compare the two.

I did feel that the homosexuality subplot could've been handled better... and the romance between Daisy and Jerome was limited to montage and one dance scene that really should've dominated (or at least had parity with) the entire second half of the film, but oh well... it's Simon's play. Can't fault him for his artistic choice.

I just would've done it different.

It's an interesting commentary on America in the 40's, multiculturalism, and sexuality, but really fails to deliver on its key conflicts. I wanted more from Walken, but such is life.

Until tomorrow, Potatoes~