UMBERTO D. (Italy, 1952)

by Miguel E. Rodriguez

DIRECTOR: Vittorio De Sica
CAST: Carlo Battisti, Maria Pia Casilio, Lina Gennari
MY RATING: 8/10
ROTTEN TOMATOMETER: 98% Certified Fresh

PLOT: An elderly man and his beloved pet dog struggle to survive on his government pension in Rome.


The greatness of Vittorio De Sica’s Umberto D. is something I was only able to appreciate after it was over.  As the film plays out, I was waiting for something more to happen, something to add to the paper-thin plot of an elderly man struggling to make ends meet in a city whose government has forsaken him and thousands or millions like him.  When the screen faded to black at the end, my first thought was, “That’s it???  Well, what happens next?”  The fact that the film prompted me, not only to ask the question, but to attempt to come up with an answer, is probably one of the reasons why this film is widely regarded as a classic.  Not many films can claim to keep the story running forward in your head after it’s over.

Umberto Domenico Ferrari is an elderly man living in post-war Rome.  The film opens with him joining a crowd protesting the city government’s policy of cutting their pensions.  Umberto is in dire straits.  He’s behind on his rent, low on cash, his landlady threatens eviction, and he must somehow still feed his beloved dog, Flike (rhymes with “like”).  The film will follow Umberto’s tribulations over the course of several days as he berates his landlady, tries to get some cash by selling some of his books and other possessions, dines at a soup kitchen while furtively feeding scraps to Flike, and befriends the young maid in his building who has problems of her own.

Umberto D. is as good an example as any, and better than most, of Italian post-war neo-realism, a cinematic movement in which Italian film directors aimed to paint the silver screen with portraits of everyday life in their country, which was wracked with poverty and unemployment at the time.  Rather than provide an escape from such hardships, these directors felt it was their civic duty to bring the everyman (or everywoman) into the spotlight, to remind the audience that movies could be more than escapist entertainment.  They felt obliged to say, “There are more stories of despair and hardship ten feet out your front door than can be imagined by any Hollywood screenwriter.”

There are pros and cons to this approach, at least in my opinion.  On one hand, the neo-realist movement created such immortal classics as La strada [1954], Bicycle Thieves [1948, also directed by De Sica], and a little later, Rocco and His Brothers [1960]; these are films that have stood the test of time and will continue to do so for decades to come.

On the other hand, a quote from Roger Ebert comes to mind: “A man goes to the movies; the critic must admit that he is this man.”  In other words, learn to say exactly what you think about a film as opposed to what you think you should think.  And when it comes to Italian neo-realism, I’ll say this: give me a choice between a De Sica retrospective and a Christopher Nolan marathon, and it’s the Nolan marathon seven days a week and twice on Sunday.  Yes, I am aware of the place that neo-realism films have in cinematic history, and I can appreciate their greatness on a cerebral level.  However, on a gut level, I can usually only watch them once or twice, with very few exceptions.  La strada, for example, is heart-wrenching, but in such a way that I want to revisit it just to relive those emotional gut-punches at the end.

Umberto D. didn’t quite deliver those gut-punches, at least not during its running time.  …okay, there IS a moment when Flike runs away, and the possibility arises that he may or may not have been put down by the local pound.  There is a cringe-inducing scene when we watch hardened men roll a cage full of stray dogs into a large box where the dogs will be gassed; we are spared the sight of the actual procedure, but we see enough of it to get the picture.  Umberto watches the box with fear in his eyes.  Another man wants to retrieve his captured pet, but he falters when he lacks the money to pay for his return.  The look on his face as he repeatedly asks, “So, if I don’t take him, you’ll kill him?”  THAT is a scene where my emotional juices where stirred up.

(Okay, there is ONE other scene that got me a little riled up emotionally, but it happens near the film’s climax, so I can’t describe it without spoiling something.)

Aside from those very rare moments of heightened emotion, the film is mostly pedestrian, giving us more details of Umberto’s daily life as he tries and tries to find a way to get enough cash to pay his rent.  In one pathetic scene, he debates whether he should resort to panhandling like so many other men he sees on the streets.  At first, he tries it himself, practicing holding out his hand on a street corner, but when someone actually turns to give him some money, Umberto pretends he was just stretching – he just can’t bring himself to accept handouts from a stranger.  He tries to enlist Flike instead, getting him to hold his hat while sitting on his hind legs, but that doesn’t work out either.  He reaches out to former friends, to no avail.

As I’ve said before, DURING the film, these scenes, and others like them, didn’t stir me up the way I felt the director was shooting for.  It was only afterwards that I found myself pondering those scenes and Umberto’s actions.  I used to own a dog, a very long time ago.  If my dog were my only remaining connection, with no family or friends to reach out to in times of need, how would I feel if I learned he might have been captured and put down?  If I suddenly had no means of income, no way to pay the rent/mortgage/whatever, and nowhere to go if I got kicked out of my apartment/house/whatever, how would I manage?  Would I manage?  Late in the film, Umberto makes a couple of hard choices.  Would I make the same choices in his position?

As FINE appears on the screen, Umberto D. invites us to wonder about Umberto’s fate.  The last scene is, on the surface, a happy one, but somber music plays over it, and the scene does not address or solve Umberto’s situation.  This is in the neo-realist tradition.  If De Sica were asked, “But what happened to him at the end?”, I can imagine him saying, “The same thing that happens to all such men.”  If he was told, “But I don’t know what happens to such men,” De Sica might say, “Well, now you have something to think about.”  Q.E.D.

[Trivia: The lead actor, Carlo Battisti, was not a professional actor, but a professor of linguistics. Umberto D. would be his only film, and not many people can claim that kind of legacy with just one film.]

DJANGO UNCHAINED

By Marc S. Sanders

Quentin Tarantino’s scripts have never been shy with using the N-word or any other colorful terminology.  He turns harsh and biting vocabulary into rhythmic stanzas of dialogue.  When he films these scripts, he’s not bashful with the buckets of blood splashed all over the set either.  His interpretation of violence works in a kind of slapstick fashion among his seedy one-dimensional characters.  Normally, I never get uneasy with his approach.  I know what to expect of the guy.  Yet, as well cast, written and formulated his Oscar winning film Django Unchained may be, I wince at both his word play and physical carnage.  I think Tarantino gets a little too comfortable with his slave era storylines and the African American actors he stages in his set ups.  A good portion of this Western may be thrilling, but it’s also cringy like watching a drunk uncle at a three-year old’s birthday party, and I defy viewers not to squint at the movie if they so much as live day to day with even the smallest shred of kindness in their hearts.

Django Freeman (Jamie Foxx) is released from slavery by the former dentist now bounty hunter, Dr. King Schultz (Christoph Waltz, in his second Oscar winning performance cast by Tarantino).  Django is a good man, though uneducated and mostly illiterate.  Once he assists the doctor with locating and collecting a bounty, the two make an arrangement to stick together through the winter collecting further ransoms.  In return for the former slave’s help, Dr. Schultz will assist in rescuing Django’s wife, the German speaking Broomhilda (Kerry Washington).  She is believed to be held at the infamous Mississippi slave plantation known as Candyland, owned by the ruthless Calvin Candie. He is played by Leonardo DiCaprio in one of his best roles while also delivering one of his most unforgiving portrayals.  Calvin Candie is a mean son of a bitch slave owner who has too much fun with investing in slaves for brutal Mandingo wrestling matches that don’t finish until the loser is dead in bloody, bone cracking fashion.  

All of these figures belong at the top of Quentin Tarantino’s list of sensational character inventions, particularly Django.  He has more depth than most of the writer’s other creations.  This guy goes from an unkempt, nearly naked, tortured and chained slave to a free man proudly wearing a bright blue court jester costume on horseback.  His third iteration places him in a gunslinger wardrobe comparable to a Clint Eastwood cowboy and when the conclusion arrives, Django is meaner, more confident and instinctively wiser, glamorously dressed (purple vest with gold inlay designer seems) like a graphic novel superhero ready to take on an endless army of redneck slave abusing outlaws.  Django is taught everything he needs to know from Doc Schultz.  Christoph Waltz and Jamie Foxx stand as an impressionable mentor/student pair.  They are the spine of Django Unchained.

The villainy of the piece belongs to DiCaprio and his head slave in charge, known as Steven, played by the director’s go to player for happy street slang and N-word droppings, Samuel L Jackson.  Steven is Jackson’s best career role because as an old, decrepit and frightening individual it’s this portrayal which looks like no other part the actor has ever played.    Both actors are funny, and you can’t take your eyes off of their unlimited grandstanding, but they will leave you feeling terribly uncomfortable.

I think what is most unsettling about Django Unchained is that the cruelty persists for nearly the whole three hour run time, and it is more so at a shameless attempt of comedic, pulpy entertainment, rather than just insight and education.  A Schindler’s List finds no glee in the torment that kept the Holocaust alive.  Tarantino didn’t even go to great heights with Inglourious Basterds because that film featured ongoing grisly heroics with his assortment of vengeful protagonists.  The Nazis were never celebrated in that film at the cost of innocent Jewish lives that faced peril and threat.

In Django Unchained, it’s hard to watch the Negro characters and extras getting brutally whipped while bound by inescapable chains.  Kerry Washington’s nude character is yanked out of a sweat box on the Candyland plantation and while I’m watching it, I ask myself if I’m too much of a prude.  No.  I don’t think I am.  This teeters on torture porn. The N-word is now being used way too freely to stab at the slaves for gleeful poetry. It grows tiring and, yeah even for a Quentin Tarantino picture downright ugly and offensive. I imagine Tarantino grinning behind the camera every time DiCaprio or Jackson happily drop another N-bomb.

Quentin Tarantino has been applauded time and again for his excessive abuse and tortuous murders committed by his characters.  Because he’s courageously gone so far before, the line of acceptance is either pushed out farther or maybe in the case of Django Unchained it is entirely erased.  

My compliments to a well-known humanitarian like Leonardo DiCaprio for energetically acting through this bastard of a role that requires a twisted pleasure in watching two husky black bruisers beat the bloody tar out of each other in a formal drinking parlor.  Later in the picture, a weeping slave is shredded to pieces by ravaged, bloodthirsty dogs.  These fictional scenes staged by Tarantino and his filmmakers come off a little too real and even by the director’s standards much too over the top for the temperature of this film’s narrative.  

What could these extras cast to play these slave and Mandingo roles have really been thinking while shooting this picture?  Did these men recognize the racially poetic humor in Tarantino’s verbiage? Did they find a commitment to demonstrate a once historic atrocity for a lesson learned? I doubt it. Did these actors simply succumb because they needed the work?  Believe me.  I empathize.  Yet, Tarantino took this film to a very uncomfortable extreme for a movie intended on following his reputable and always admired lurid material.  Here, despite my reverence for his work, I think Quentin Tarantino goes unnecessarily over the line.  The whippings and dog torture are quite uneven from what The Bride commits in Kill Bill when a Crazy 88 henchman gets spanked with a sword and there’s nothing to compare to whatever sick, graphic novel atrocities occur in his later western, The Hateful Eight – both are PG rated compared to what is offered in Django Unchained.

Much of Tarantino’s signature comedy works.  The Ku Klux Klan of the late 1850s are represented with brilliant stupidity by a cameo appearing Jonah Hill and a racist, foul speaking, plantation owning charmer played by Don Johnson, known by what else but Big Daddy.  The filmmaker turns these guys into bumbling stooges who can’t even wear their hoods properly. And yes, they also freely drop the N-word in cruel like fashion. I get it, Mississippi and Southern Plantation owners were not the Mickey Mouse sort, and I’m not asking for whitewashing what the real-life despicable characters stood for or how they carried themselves. Still, when all of this compounded together, it goes too far. In a drama like 12 Years A Slave, I see an authenticity to an ugly slave era. In Tarantino’s world, I see a kid who learned a bad word and dad said go ahead son, play with the machine gun but make sure the vocabulary ammo will riddle the entire script to pieces.

Django Unchained is a gorgeous looking picture.  Tarantino goes to the outdoor plains following the interiors of Pulp Fiction and Jackie Brown.  Jamie Foxx and Christoph Waltz’ cowboy antics look marvelous riding on horseback or even simply camping by the fire as well written exposition is revealed on cold moonlight evenings.  

I can watch this western on repeat and feel a free-spirited energy when Django steps out in his cowboy outfit with boots, spurs, the hat, and a brand-new saddle to ride off on his steed while Jim Croce’s uplifting “I Got A Name” cues into the picture.  I love how Jamie Foxx appears as a super heroic action star, especially in the final act of the movie.  I can absorb the sadism of DiCaprio’s downright mischievous evil, particularly when he uses a bone saw and skull prop to make a point.  I feel like I’ve gained a comforting friend in Christop Waltz’ kindly sensible Doc Schultz, and I welcome a very funny and altogether different Samuel L Jackson that finally arrives.  

It’s the filling within these strong moments and characterizations that is very hard to swallow.  Django Unchained is that great picture that still should have been made but with a modicum of caution. Perhaps one of the Weinsteins, or maybe even these powerhouse, marquee actors who led this piece should have shared some constructive input with the writer/director.

Django Unchained is fun, but it’s not entirely fun.

GLADIATOR II

By Marc S. Sanders

With Gladiator II, you get two of everything.  Two heroes, two emperors, two great white sharks, but only one Denzel Washington which is plenty.

The sequel to Ridley Scott’s Best Picture Oscar winner takes place sixteen years after those events when we had the impression that Rome was left in a state of nobility, devoid of treacherous gladiator games. Not so.  

Two flamboyant young men named Geta and Catacalla have taken joint rule of Rome thanks to their continued worldwide conquering delivered by their General Acacious (Pedro Pascal).  The general fought for Rome, even if he didn’t agree with the rulers’ policies.  Now he wants to rest with his wife Lucilla (Connie Nielsen, one of two returning cast members of the original film).  Though it’s hard for Acacious to remain apathetic even while the two brats demand more widespread conquests.

Elsewhere is Lucius, Lucilla’s son, a child in the first film, now an adult whose African army suffers defeat at the opening of this film.  The opening naval sea raid upon an impenetrable fort is massively impressive with arrows, fireballs, swords, sea water drownings and gory bloodletting.  Lucius is played by Paul Mescal.   

Gladiator II is full of parallel stories.  Still, you can bet these characters’ paths will all intersect in coincidental soap opera fashion during the run time of the film.

There’s nothing new to this follow up picture that you hadn’t already seen in the original Gladiator.  In fact, the first hour follows a near exact blueprint of its predecessor.  Lucius, a once revered battle commander who lost his wife, is purchased as a slave by Macrinus (Denzel Washington) to fight in gladiator games throughout the Coliseums of Rome.  Because the violence of the sport is so well assembled and enhanced compared to the last movie, it’s easy to get caught up in the fun the film offers.  The action pieces are magnificent.

Though most of the movie is ridiculous.  Historians just close up your encyclopedias.  

Most absurd, yet deliciously fun, is when the emperors arrange for the ring to be filled with salt water and man-eating sharks at the ready as naval battles are reenacted.  Now I’m not sure if this was truly accomplished in Roman times with state-of-the-art plumbing to transport and hold all of this water.  I am also skeptical of bringing bloodthirsty great white sharks straight from the Mediterranean directly into the Coliseum, but I’ll be damned if anyone tells me this centerpiece of bloodshed is not giddy to behold.

Other moments that will have you clapping are match ups between the warriors and big ass mutant, buck toothed (I mean like BUCK TOOTHED) monkeys as well your typical rhino melee.  That latter match had Miguel thinking of Attack Of The Clones.  

The best of the performances belongs to Washington.  As gleefully over the top (Miguel’s description) as Ridley Scott’s sequel is, Denzel Washington is doing scene stealing work on level with Jack Nicholson and Gene Hackman.  He’s playfully deceitful while appearing proudly respectable with his signature, toothy grin and colorfully eloquent robes that billow with his performance.  The film is not Oscar worthy, but Washington’s performance is because he masterfully works the mind-bending trickery of the character.  Macrinus worms his way through the Senators with conniving wagers placed on Lucius’ undetected fighting talents.  Actor Tim McInnerny is someone I’ve never heard of but as he plays a pitiful, gambling addicted weakling (think of Beaker from The Muppets) against Denzel Washington’s brash and conceited character, you can’t help but take pleasure in how things work out for each of the pair.

Joseph Quinn and Fred Hechinger are the cherub appearing emperors with extroverted cheekbones highlighted in bright rouge.  Combined,  these guys work really well as fill ins for the spoiled brattiness that Joaquin Phoenix left behind in the prior film.  Oh these kiddies are cruel and you just love to hate them.

The two heroes, Paul Mescal and Pedro Pascal, are what is left a little too bland.  They do not match the appeal that Russell Crowe delivered and it’s not simple to care for them or their outcomes.  Lacking any kind of dynamics, they occupy the athletic builds of these guys they’ve been cast to play and that’s where the script limits them.

Thankfully, Gladiator II is very entertaining.  It might not be wholly original when digging up tropes that have been used in many other sword and sandal epics, but Ridley Scott really committed to the carnage and gore we expect.  The director took much pleasure with the outrageous material and the smartest decision was to acquire Denzel Washington.  

Another actor would have slept his way through this role just for a paycheck.  Washington uses the twisted material at his disposal to own the picture all to himself.  I imagine the script documents an unforgettable monologue for his character in front of the weakling Roman senators.  This two time Oscar winning actor must have approached Ridley Scott and said let me try something.  Then the prop department made preparations for a sickeningly, grisly presentation that offers a marvelous image for the Roman Gods to behold, and one that’s hard to forget or not laughingly appreciate.  It may be a stomach-turning scene for some.  On the other hand, I applaud the brashness of the moment.

Our current Congress might be in disarray but with Gladiator II, Denzel Washington and Ridley Scott declare with confidence a resounding “HOLD MY BEER!”

GLADIATOR II (2024)

by Miguel E. Rodriguez

DIRECTOR: Ridley Scott
CAST: Paul Mescal, Denzel Washington, Pedro Pascal, Connie Nielsen
MY RATING: 6/10
ROTTEN TOMATOMETER: 72% Certified Fresh

PLOT: After his home is conquered by the tyrannical emperors who now lead Rome, a rebel soldier becomes a gladiator and must look to his past to find the strength to return the glory of Rome to its people.


[SPOILER ALERT: There is a key plot point that I must divulge in my review, but it is not something I knew before watching the film, despite the fact it was supposedly spoiled in one of the trailers.  You have been warned.]

While I was being underwhelmed by Ridley Scott’s latest film, Gladiator II, I was reminded of his previous lapses in judgement.  Although he is the deservedly acclaimed director of masterpieces like Alien, Black Hawk Down, Kingdom of Heaven, and Thelma & Louise, he also helmed such misfires as 1492: Conquest of Paradise, House of Gucci, and the regrettable Robin Hood [2010].  My point is that Gladiator II is a reminder that Mr. Scott is human like anyone else and occasionally makes mistakes.

I’m not saying that Gladiator II is a terrible film, though.  It is not aggressively bad like some other films I could mention (*cough, The Counselor, cough*).  It has some amazing sights, like the rhino battle in the Colosseum, and it boasts a triumphantly over-the-top performance from Denzel Washington as Macrinus, a flamboyant trainer of gladiators with designs of his own for the city of Rome.  On those merits alone, Gladiator II is maybe worth a watch.

But…but…

While the story is interesting from a standpoint of pure plotting, and while we get the requisite nostalgia bombs of seeing Connie Nielsen back again along with periodic flashbacks to the first Gladiator [2000], I felt curiously distant from the film itself.  I have theories about this phenomenon, but nothing conclusive.

First, the lead actor, Paul Mescal, as [SPOILER ALERT] Lucius.  He looks the part, I grant you that, at least from a physical standpoint.  He’s built, he appears to do most of the physical stunts himself, and he delivers his lines with the appropriate gravitas.  But I never got behind him as the hero of the piece.  Maybe it’s because he’s a complete unknown to me?  Maybe because we barely got to know him before he was suddenly thrust into the main story arc?  (By contrast, in the first Gladiator, we got to know Maximus inside and out before he became a gladiator.)

My sympathies went entirely towards Pedro Pascal as General Acacius, the military mastermind behind Rome’s greatest victories.  He is the new husband of Lucilla (played by the returning Connie Nielsen), whose son, you’ll remember, was last seen following Maximus’s body out of the Colosseum, sixteen years before Gladiator II begins.  Acacius is dutiful almost to a fault, deferring all glory on the battlefield to the empire of Rome, even if it’s currently being run by a couple of brothers (Emperors Geta and Caracalla) who are entitled, bloodthirsty tyrants.  He is weary of the constant bloodshed and wonders if there isn’t a better way to restore Rome to glory.

And Denzel Washington…well, I’ll get to him in a minute.

So, the story, while it must have been compelling on paper, seems to be a healthy echo of the first film.  Another defeated soldier becomes a gladiator.  Another successful Roman general wants to restore Rome.  More spectacular, bloody battles inside and outside the Colosseum.  More political intrigue regarding power-hungry senators and double-dealing merchants.  Forgive me, but I’ve been there, and I’ve done that.  (And adding massive sharks to a Colosseum battle does not intrinsically make it better than anything from the first film.  However, some basic research does show that the Colosseum WAS occasionally flooded with about 5 feet of water to stage mock naval battles…so there you go.)

The undeniable highlights of the film are any scenes involving Denzel Washington.  Not since Training Day has he chewed the scenery with this much gusto (although his recent turn as Macbeth comes pretty close).  I’m guessing he still has traces of Gladiator II set pieces stuck between his teeth.  He can command a scene by his presence alone, but he adds these marvelous gestures of adjusting his robes and tossing in one of his dazzling smiles when you might least expect it.  He makes one of the greatest uses of a dramatic pause that I’ve ever heard.  (“I own…[beat, beat, beat, beat, beat]…your house.”)  In another scene, he uses an exceedingly gory prop as a punctuation mark during a speech; if he gets nominated for an Oscar for this role, that’s the scene they SHOULD use for a clip, but they probably won’t.  Shame.  The whole performance is a classic example of taking a smaller role, owning it, and turning it into a thing of beauty.  In hindsight, it’s probably a good thing that he doesn’t have much screen time, because he simply outguns his scene partners at every turn.  You can’t take your eyes off this guy.

The drawback to Washington’s masterful performance is that I found myself marking time between his scenes, instead of falling into the world of the story.  I followed along, was able to keep track of which senator was doing what and why Lucilla was so distraught and so on.  But to the degree that I was able to follow along, I just didn’t care.  I was reminded of Troy, another sword-and-sandals epic, also told on a grand scale with innumerable extras and some world-class battle scenes, but which also left me apathetic for much of its running time.

Gladiator II improves on the first film only in terms of the complexity of its visual effects and the addition of Denzel Washington.  Aside from that, I’m afraid it does very little to make me care about its heroes, its plot twists, its unexpected deaths, and the glory of Rome.

(And I had to exercise superhuman restraint, at the final shots of the film, to keep myself from yelling out loud, “Talk to me, Goose!”)

WICKED PART ONE

By Marc S Sanders

The blessing of film is that it provides a channel to forms of entertainment that not everyone necessarily has access to.  I was never fascinated with the Tony Awards so much (even though I attended three live ceremonies) because the nominees were exclusive to what was performed in the last year on Broadway in New York City.  How can I or the rest of the country get enamored with the best of the best when we hardly have access to see any of the performances?  With movies, well you just go to the movies!

Wicked is one of the few musicals in the last twenty years that has taken on a worldwide fascination.  It was a very long novel before it became the touring stage production following a massive debut on Broadway. Perhaps because the story returns to a familiar setting, the fantastical land of Oz, the book and show carried a strong appeal.  Wicked arrived with an established brand.  Who doesn’t know The Wizard Of Oz?  Nevertheless, Wicked never needed magical ruby slippers (or rather silver as author L Frank Baum intended) to find its footing.  It’s always been worthy of its accolades apart from any other properties.  The new film, directed by John M Chu, will become a timeless classic all by itself.  Despite some technical issues, this cinematic adaptation is wondrous.

Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo) is the green skinned awkward teen, who was rejected by her father and only served a purpose to tend to her wheelchair bound sister Nessarose (Marissa Bode).  She accompanies them to drop her sister off at the esteemed magical school known as Shiz.  However, the headmistress of the institution, Madame Morrible (Michelle Yeoh), requests that Elphaba stay on as a student that she will personally teach as well.  Elphaba is roomed with the self-absorbed Galinda (Ariana Grande), where their relationship is frictional at first and later adoringly empathetic.  Eventually, we come to realize the destinies of these young ladies will develop into what is all too familiar in L Frank Baum’s eternal The Wizard Of Oz – Elphaba becomes The Wicked Witch Of The West while Galinda is recognized as Glinda, the pinkishly tender Good Witch Of The North. 

This Part One iteration of Wicked is very faithful to the stage production.  Every recognizable number is included from the operatic “No One Mourns The Wicked” to the giddily cheerful “Popular” to the climaxing, fist pumping, take charge “Defying Gravity” that closes out Act One.  The latter number is arguably one of the most well recognized and beloved theatrical songs of the twenty-first century thus far.  The edits and choreography of every number is magnificent, full of energy, and the harmonies work like natural dialogue as opposed to something like West Side Story where it’s not crazy to ask exactly why rival street gangs suddenly break out into song while trying to knife one another. 

John M Chu makes sure that his cast use every prop and set piece available.  You can’t help but grin while Ariana Grande does a circular swan flight from a chandelier while making a case for why it’s best to be popular.  “One Short Day” is a massive declaration within narrow school courtyards and corridors that berth out toward wide open endless fields into a vast blue sky for Elphaba to declare what she yearns for.  Cynthia Erivo has that knack to sing and perform personally to her character’s own subconscious when she’s in these intimate, private moments.  She then bursts out with confident volume to show that as repulsive as she might appear to everyone around her, the soul inside is what is beautiful.  In order to cast Elphaba, you really need one of the most beautiful singing voices in the world because the character is most stunning when she is expressing herself vocally. 

Ariana Grande is good. Though I still prefer the two iterations of the character that I saw on stage prior to this film.  Her performance is a different interpretation than what is traditionally in a live production.  I especially noticed that change when her character attempts to explain how to properly pronounce her name of Galinda.  The stage version of this memorable moment induced the laughs from me more.  As beautiful as Grande is in her characterization and singing, she’s not so humorous as the live stage performances.  So, the humor of Galinda, the self-entitled spoiled rich girl with everything, is not as strong.  As well, at the top of the film, I had an issue with understanding precisely what Ariana Grande was singing at first.  Was she harmonizing or was she singing dialogue?  Perhaps, that is not so much a fault of the actress as it is the recording.  Yet, the issue does not last long, and soon you are treated to Galinda laying it all out there.  She might not be as funny this time, but she’s incredibly charming and loved by her surrounding entourage of student followers, especially from Bowen Yang (Saturday Night Live) and Bronwyn James. 

The sets are spectacular and I learned afterwards that they are mostly physically constructed.  So, there is a texture to the schoolgrounds of Shiz with bridges and babbling brooks as well as regal castle-like architecture.  This is a Universal picture and many may presume that Disney would have produced something like this musical fantasy.  However, in Disney’s hands, much of this film would have been polished in a grandiose, yet artificial, CGI.  John M Chu and his crew went the smart route and diminished the cartoon sheen that comes with CGI.

My issue though is in the cinematography.  Regrettably, I could not see Wicked in a Dolby cinema.  So, we settled for a traditional theatre at AMC which was fine.  Yet, I was wondering at first if there was something wrong with the projector.  A lot of the scenes taking place in the daytime seemed washed out, especially with close ups on Ariana Grande and her complexion.  Then I concluded that John M Chu’s cinematographer relied on a lot of blaring sunlight for many of the scenes.  I imagine it was used to contrast the dark green complexion of Elphaba, emphasizing how much she doesn’t belong in this environment and amping up what an eyesore the character must feel like within the world of Shiz.  When Elphaba dominates a scene or a caption or when the film arrives at the Emerald City, the photography is just right.  Elsewhere at Shiz, it’s very oversaturated with a fuzzy kind of look to it.  Was I wearing the wrong spectacles?  Wait, I don’t wear glasses or contacts!  I could not get past this for much of the film. There was just too much white light, and it didn’t compliment the pinks and pales that accompany Galinda and some of the environments and extras.

My wife and I agreed we are going to see it in theatres at least one more time within a Dolby surround sound.  You should too.  We missed the surround sound of the winning music blaring through the entire theatre.  In a traditional theatre, the sound feels as if it is only coming from the front, or behind the screen.  Dolby or IMAX enhance the audible as if your mind is right at the center of an orb with the most gorgeous, pitch perfect sounds accompanying you.  Dolby and IMAX will also enrich the colors, and Wicked is most certainly vibrant.  Every scene looks like a completed coloring book, despite my one noted imperfection.  A year after Barbie, and pink is still in.  Greens and blacks are just as impactful.

Wicked is magnificent entertainment, worth seeing again.  The music is enchanting and easy to catch on to.  It’s fun and dramatic and every lyric works to shape the characters.  The story is magnificent as well with eye opening twists while allegorically adopting a message demonstrating the harm of prejudice.  There’s also opportunity to show where life can be a disappointment at times when you encounter false idols and learn truths about yourself and those you have grown close to.  I speak in vague terms on these accounts so as not to spoil what this powerful story delivers.

The film is smart in invention as well.  There are good, solid moments that were never staged in the live performances, but thanks to the art of filmmaking new ideas seem totally appropriate where the classic 1939 film, The Wizard Of Oz, are referenced.  Though, I have yet to see Part Two, I can confidently say Wicked works as a solid prequel.

I was one of the skeptics who believed breaking this film into two parts was a shameless studio cash grab.  It certainly seems that way and maybe it is, but considering how good this new musical film adaptation is, I am eager for another installment.  So, I will happily fork over more admission money a year from now and I am confident that I’ll wholeheartedly enjoy Wicked Part Two.  This is a brilliantly creative story with a strong cast, sensational music and eye-popping invention.  I may know what becomes of the characters and how this story ends, but I can’t wait to see it reenacted for its latter half, and I am eager to see what new creations present themselves in its next chapter. 

Wicked is one of the best films of the year.  A triumphing soar through the skies on a magical broomstick.

UNSTOPPABLE (2010)

By Marc S. Sanders

An adventure of the unexpected needs to start with urgency. 

“Let’s say there’s a runaway train that’s barreling through the state of Pennsylvania and no one is on board to stop it.”

“Not bad.  What else you got?”

“This train is a half mile long. So, it’s a roller coaster of a beast.”

“Go on.”

“How about there’s another train on the same track and the two are going to collide with each other?”

“It’s got potential.  Anything else?”

“Oh yeah.  The train is carrying toxic chemicals that could cause mass destruction and casualties of epic proportions throughout the rural area.”

“Okay.  Now we’re talking.  Any guns?  Can we find a way to get machine guns into the mix?” 

“Yes!  I got it.  How about if the people try to derail it and the only way to make that happen is the cops shoot at this tiny button on the bottom of the engine, and this button is located between the gas tanks?  So it’s gotta be a direct hit while the train is in motion.”

“Okay.  Okay.  That’s genius.  Let’s green light it.”

Now this might have been how Unstoppable, director Tony Scott’s final film, got put into commission, but what is especially fascinating is that this is based on a true story. An out-of-control locomotive actually went off with no one on board to control it.  It happened within the state of Ohio about fifteen years prior to the release of this film.  Only it was not as dramatic or suspenseful as Tony Scott and his crew assembled their movie.  Unstoppable is a pumped-up, steroid enhanced reenactment of the actual story.

The director recruited his most common go to lead, Denzel Washington, for the role of Frank Barnes.  He’s an engineer with over thirty years’ experience who is wiser than the big wig suits on the top floor.  He can bring this potential disaster to a halt before it happens.  Frank is also a mentor to the fresh, young conductor, Will Colson (Chris Pine). 

Will is cranky because his wife is upholding a restraining order against him and the two are at a standstill of hashing their problems out over the phone.  Frank is in a bad mood because the young guys like Will are being brought in to replace the grizzled fellows who are being pushed out.  Frank is also a widower with two estranged daughters. Though, he gets a kick out of telling Will the girls are paying their way through college by working at Hooters.

Denzel Washington and Chris Pine make a good pair.  Buddies who antagonize each other at first, they later share what’s eating at them personally and professionally. Then they work well together to resolve the crisis at hand.  Their characters are not very dimensional, nor should they be.  After all, it’s all about the train.  Yet, I believed them as train engineers/conductors.  Either of these guys could be operating a merry go round and I’ll believe they know some serious shit about how the carousel operates and moves in a circular motion.  My point is these actors really work at it to appear like guys who are well trained within the freight train industry, and I buy all of it.

In the control center, staring at large monitors with high tech maps is Connie (Rosario Dawson).  She’s communicating on the CB with Frank and Will and giving them updates on the status of when their engine will be within hookup range with the one speeding out of control.  She’s also the figurehead with the smart mouth, needed to stand up to her bubbleheaded corporate boss (Kevin Dunn) who threatens to fire all of them.  In other movies, this guy would be the angry police captain in a cop movie.  He’d be the government official who believes he can protect the President while Kevin Costner or Clint Eastwood knows that’s not how it works.  This is a slot role.  Use the same dialogue for a guy like this no matter what the picture is about because it’s all standard stuff. 

On paper, Unstoppable sounds ridiculous and quite ordinary for an adventure.  A runaway train.  Isn’t there anything else?  Yet, Tony Scott applies his quick edits and aggressive zoom in and zoom out shots to the movie’s breakneck progression.  He’s also got those curved Steadicam movements within Connie’s control center accompanied with glowing bright lights of greens, reds and blues. 

News reporters’ updates, along with footage from helicopters, are spliced in between the scenes that Washington and Pine share together in the cab of their train engine.  The glue holds up well.  There’s time allowed for Frank’s girls to cheer daddy on while at Hooters. Will’s wife played by Jessy Schram holds their young son while nervously fidgeting and tearing up watching the news.  I don’t think she has any dialogue beyond the line “C’mon Will!” Soon, she’s live on the scene staring straight ahead for the final act of the film.  That’s a problem.   I’m questioning why she’s looking in the same spot straight ahead if this train barrels on and on.  It’s certainly not in a stationary position.  She’s not watching a baseball game.  No bother.  It’s not fun to question a picture like this with such semantics. 

The exhilaration comes in how Tony Scott sets up his action pieces with daring leaps on and off the train and running sprints on top of and in between the cars.  Guys hang from helicopters with attempts to board the train.  Cop cars turn their sirens on and speed parallel to the locomotive, and yes, as in any Tony Scott film, a handful of cop cars bang themselves up real good in some gritty pile ups. A gorgeous red pickup truck works its way into the story too.

Screeching sound effects are also necessary.  They were nominated for an Oscar. 

Perhaps my one complaint that’s hard to accept is that in some shots, the train, which is supposedly going at over 70 mph, doesn’t look like its going fast enough.  Urgency is important in a film like this and when I get the impression the train is not traveling at a high enough speed, well then the threat doesn’t feel so threatening.  It’s when there are shots underneath from an on the track perspective that you really get an idea of the exhilaration.  In a movie like Speed, the bus always looked like it was accelerating and never slowing down.  Here, the train seems to move slow enough at times that anyone could have just leaped on board, but as Miguel always says, “Then there would be no movie.”

Don’t go into Unstoppable with your Neil deGrasse Tyson laws of physics.  Don’t get hung up on the wife who can see everything that’s happening by staring straight ahead when this speeding train is racing past her from right to left.  Don’t worry. Move on.  It may not look like it, but this train is going faster than it appears. 

Just enjoy the ride, and relish in what set Tony Scott aside as a well-equipped and capable action director.  Sadly, he left this world too soon.  There were more fun action movies to be made by him.  Unstoppable at least reminds you why he is still so sadly missed.

WALL·E

By Marc S. Sanders

There are some movies that seem to accurately predict what we can expect of our planet’s future.  Paddy Chayefsky was one such prophet with his script for Network and the rampant consumption of television influence and addiction.  Author Phillip K Dick might have also been a Nostrodomus of sorts when his writings were adapted into such films as Total Recall, Minority Report and Blade Runner which offered convincing convenience to lifestyles and evolved productivity.  Perhaps the imagineers behind PIXAR are also on to something because their adorable, futuristic WALL·E does not seem so farfetched.  

The robot title character is a trash collector on an abandoned planet Earth seven hundred years into the future.  A Wal-Mart/Sam’s Club amalgamation known as the fictional Buy N Large appeared to have become the main resource for any immediate need of the human population that once existed; what the coming of Amazon is turning into. This monopolized interpretation of absolute capitalism was run by a CEO and maybe Commander In Chief of the free world, played by Fred Willard, the one major flesh and blood actor to appear in this picture. 

WALL·E, along with a faithful cockroach, roams the wastelands.  The puppy dog, bug eyed robot wheels around on his tractor legs collecting the endless amounts of leftover trash and compacting it into neat, stackable boxes.  Piled on top of each other, these boxes get as high as skyscrapers.  These are the remnants from what Buy N Large left for the planet.

One day a rocket ship arrives and drops off a highly sophisticated and glossy white droid that we come to know as EVE.  For WALL·E, it’s almost love at first sight even though EVE has a treacherous laser cannon for an arm and intimidating blue cyborg eyes.

Eventually, the two bots hitch a ride into space when the rocket returns to pick up EVE.  They arrive on a galaxy cruise liner that’s floating through the solar system.  While the two get into a bunch of Looney Tunes shenanigans running through the corridors and piping of the ship, the audience bears witness to what exactly happened to planet Earth, and who has survived to carry on.  At this point a prophecy seems to be declared by writers Andrew Stanton, Pete Docter and Jim Reardon (all PIXAR regulars at the time).

Humans aboard this liner have become oversized, lazy blobs with no neck, fat arms, fingers and legs, and reclined to permanent seats while robotics cater to their hungers and comforts.  These people are cheerful but happily lazy and unproductive.  Remember when your mother would tell you to clean your room?  Well, the wasteland universe of WALL·E bears justification for mom’s aggravation and constant pestering.

The computerized animation of this PIXAR romantic adventure is dazzling in details and character expression.  There’s an unattractive sand like and earth tone mood to anyplace we explore on Earth.  Yet, the industrial sheen of the cruise liner appears to have all the comforts imaginable.  You can practically taste the colors and feel the balmy air conditioning within this ginormous vehicular city in space. Yet, the telling story of WALL·E has no problem convincing me that this is not right.  This is not a future I’d want to be a part of.

Disney and PIXAR follow that mentality of ensuring a soul of emotion drives their characters of fantasy and it’s easy to fall in love with the clunky lead robot.  You want WALL·E to be safe from sandstorms, while also keeping his only friend, the cockroach, by his side for companionship in an entirely lonely world.  His only other source of cheerfulness comes from watching the musical Hello, Dolly! on an old TV. Even playing ATARI’s Pong is not stimulating enough for this little guy.

Sound Effects Wizard Ben Burtt, who pioneered staple sci fi elements with the Star Wars films, performs the vocal expressions of chirps and beeps for WALL·E’s innocence.  There’s a language to the little fella and it’ll leave a lump in your throat when he calls for EVE.  Elissa Knight brings a more experienced, technologically up to date personality to EVE.  We worry when an organized entity like EVE robotically screams for WALL·E when she thinks he’s in danger.  She’s only supposed to follow a program, but the manufactured mind lends to a side effect of genuine emotion.  As the two get acquainted with each other, there’s a touching chemistry to them both.  A floating dance through space is as much silly as it is adorably romantic.  You cannot help but smile because by this point you are invested in this relationship as much you’d buy Rick and Ilsa’s affections towards one another, or Harry and Sally’s.

I really embrace the childlike love story connecting these two non-living beings.  Set against what appears like an apocalyptic wasteland, there are layered dynamics to this animated film, one of PIXAR’s best.  

I have to also salute the film’s nods to classic science fiction that also offer not so unrealistic possibilities.  An antagonist comes in the form of a robot similar in appearance to HAL-9000 from Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey.  He’s a nasty bugger with an all too familiar blood-red eye. It’s also a delight to recognize Sigourney Weaver’s voice as the cruise liner’s computer, a sort of slap in the face to monochromatic computers that would countdown a certain doom for the actress’s most famous role of Ellen Ripley in the Alien films.  PIXAR has always been brilliant with their wink and nod delights.

The film was released in 2008, a near generation ago maybe, when iPhones and Androids were not even as entirely sophisticated as today.  Yet PIXAR could telegraph what was to come.  The environments on Earth and on the cruiser tell us just how overly reliable we’ve become on technological conveniences for socializing or even one stop shopping.  

We are getting to a point where we might not even procreate with one another.  It’s a sad irony that it will take two self-thinking, yet designed for programing, robotic appliances to remind us how valuable the human touch is and what a purpose to life really serves ourselves and those we have to interactively live with.  

You might be embracing that cell phone tight in the palm of your hand, but will that device ever hold your hand in return?

HERETIC

By Marc S. Sanders

Heretic operates like you’re playing Dungeons & Dragons but adapted into an Escape Room experience.  The stakes at play are bigger than just your life.  You have no choice but to truly test your faith.  Can you adhere to the religious beliefs you always vowed to uphold when a lunatic is holding you captive?

Sister Barnes and Sister Paxton (Sophie Thatcher, Chloe East) are two impressionable young ladies who are proud to spread the gospel of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints from door to door.  With bicycles and pamphlets in hand, proudly wearing their name tags, they visit the homes of those who have recently expressed interest in the church.

As a dark and stormy night approaches, they knock on the door of an eerie house that belongs to the charming Mr. Reed (Hugh Grant in an utterly surprising role).  Once the ladies are assured that the gentleman’s wife is at home, ready to offer some blueberry pie, they happily enter and are quickly engaged in an unsettling test that will carry on through the evening.

I went into Heretic not knowing a single thing about the film and that made my encounter with the piece that much more interesting.  It’s a disturbing thriller that always kept me curious.  Mr. Reed seems to go on tangents that eventually get to a point where the Sisters are confused, but eventually coherent of the strange man’s demonstrations.  The film is not shy about challenging practically every religious denomination known to man from Christianity to Judaism to Islam and Mormonism.  According to Mr. Reed the ten thousand other doctrines spread across the planet need also be questioned.

Higher powers and miracles – do they really exist?

There’s no doubt that Heretic is a suspenseful thriller teetering on horror but unlike most effective efforts in this genre I was never uneasy with the picture.  It doesn’t rely on jump scares and only gore introduces itself when it must serve the storytelling.  However, it’s an intelligent character study where the heroines are challenged over and over again while remaining in captivity.  So, I was always enthralled with how Sister Barnes and Sister Paxton will entertain their destiny from one step to another.  Stay for pie or don’t.  Lie or tell the truth.  Choose the purple door or the green door.  Belief or Disbelief.

As someone who is primarily educated in Judaism only, it was still not hard to follow the wordy, rambling dissertations of Mr. Reed.  He easily compares his own take on religion to the different interpretations found in music from bands like The Hollies and Radiohead, as well as the various editions of the board game Monopoly which suddenly take on new meanings.  He even brings up Jar Jar Binks to deliver a point.  It’s odd.

Hugh Grant is an unlikely selection for a role like the charming, yet sinister Mr. Reed.  As weird as he is in this darkened house with endless hallways, I wanted to trust him through most of the first half of the picture.  I didn’t care if there was a haunting corridor or staircase to walk down.  This is Hugh Grant of Notting Hill fame.  Grant’s resume of roles lends to the surprising effectiveness of his part here.  He’s always been that adoring charmer on screen.  Ian McKellan or Anthony Hopkins?  I’d never trust them.  Hugh Grant?  Well, why wouldn’t I?

I was hoping-praying actually-that Heretic would not dissolve into a sick rape and slasher movie typical of when young girls are welcomed into a creepy, inescapable house.  That’s cheap, exploitative thrills.  Fortunately, this movie never goes that route.  

The roles of the two Sisters are brilliantly written.  To open the piece, before you know anything about Sister Barnes and Sister Paxton the two women are sitting on a park bench that bears a seedy condom advertisement while staring into a heavenly Utah sky. The topic of their conversation is of a pornographic nature.  Sinful and mischievous, despite the value they hold in their religion and the proud purpose they serve with the church.  These are complex characters that are compelled by their antagonist to make some fair hypotheses about if they genuinely embrace what they claim to value and share with a community.

Heretic is most definitely a psychological thriller with some grotesque imagery.  It gets its audience caught in a trapped claustrophobia thanks to a lot of spooky atmospheric labyrinths.  Furthermore, its strengths lie in the writing, directing and most importantly three of the best performances to come out this year from Hugh Grant, Sophie Thatcher and Chloe East.  

This is a thinking thriller for anyone who has ever uttered a single prayer at least once in their lifetime.  If that’s you, then Mr. Reed may have some questions for you.  Get out of the rain and step inside.  

TRAP

By Marc S. Sanders

The devil is in the details and when you are watching an M Night Shyamalan film it’s transparent enough to know the writer/ director has a penchant for disregard.  He’ll put the two by fours together but he doesn’t hammer the nails into place treating his structure with less sturdiness than a house of cards.

His latest thriller Trap gains from a respectable, though nothing great, performance by Josh Hartnett as a psychotic serial killer named Cooper, also known as The Butcher.  However, Shyamalan takes away the actor’s credibility by allowing his portrayal to make unbelievable escapes while also being granted an ability to eavesdrop on people while attending a loud pop/rock concert with his pre-teen daughter, Riley (Ariel Donoghue). 

Cooper and Riley have a great father/daughter relationship.  She’s beyond thrilled to see her favorite singer, Lady Raven (Saleyka Shyamalan, the director’s real-life daughter), live on stage.  He’s thrilled to accompany her while munching on stadium snacks and granting the dutiful empathy she needs from middle school drama. Cooper only gets alarmed though when he sees an overwhelming amount of police officers and FBI agents roaming all over the stadium.  He asks some questions and learns that this event is being used as a means to capture the infamous killer on the loose known as The Butcher.  Now Cooper must play a game of cat and mouse by evading the authorities while not alarming Riley.

Once again, Shyamalan has an enticing set up, but then he doesn’t deliver.  First it’s hard to swallow Hartnett’s character listening in on conversations happening yards away down hallowed hallways, or even backstage where Lady Raven’s voice is blaring through stadium speakers while she’s dancing and singing in front of thirty thousand fan girls.   Reader, I saw Sting in concert performing one of the quietest songs imaginable, “Fields Of Gold,” and I still could not hear my wife ask me to get her a Coke when she was standing right next to me.

Midway through the film it only gets more ridiculous and even corny as Lady Raven ends up at the family home where Cooper’s wife (Alison Pill) and children become enamored with the celebrity playing piano in their living room.  Then there is an overly long scene meant to offer terrifying suspense when a character locks herself in the bathroom.  Then it’s back to Raven’s limo and then onto a new house and then back to the first house.

The structure of Shyamalan’s script seems to always paint itself into a corner.  So what does the writer do? If he’s trapped with no idea, well he just deepens the corner further and further.  He defies his blueprint, and pushes those two by fours further and further out.  

All of it is hard to digest.  Cooper needs to escape a limousine surrounded by swarms of both fans and police officers. Cut to the next shot and Josh Hartnett’s character is walking away from the commotion unbeknownst to everyone else who stayed glued to the doors and windows of the limo.  Excuse me but none of the car doors ever opened.  I didn’t even see the sunroof open.  Yet, the film insists the guy escaped from the vehicle.  So just go with it.  OKAY??? 

The irony of a film called Trap is that the filmmakers could not even figure out the traps they devised.  Therefore, they’ll just disregard offering up the sleight of hand and move along.

No good magician insists his audience trust him when he says that his assistant who stepped in the box has disappeared.  A good magician, or even a bad magician, is at least smart enough to know that we need to see it for ourselves.  

AIRPORT

By Marc S. Sanders

Burt Lancaster described his participation in what would become the first of a batch of 1970s all-star disaster epics as the worst picture he’s ever done.  He declared it “the worst piece of junk ever made.”  Perhaps because of this assessment we were eventually blessed with the Airplane! spoofs a decade later.  

Airport is a sudsy soap opera drama from novelist Arthur Hailey.  It’s an indiscreet invitation to make fun of it, but I doubt it was meant to be regarded that way in 1970.  Then, Airport was likely celebrated as that new kind of picture like The Godfather, Jaws and Star Wars would pioneer in their own rights.   

The film was a box office smash for Universal Pictures, garnering an acting Oscar for kindly old Helen Hayes along with nominations for Best Picture, Cinematography and Screenplay.  It spawned three more films following its success.  Yet, it’s terribly cornball, drowning in floods of cheese, and coated in the thickest of sap.  You better swallow that Maalox now.  This airport is all backed up!

Lincoln International Airport is getting blanketed in one of the treacherous, most blinding snowstorms imaginable.  So naturally it’s the right time to launch passenger airlines into the night sky while also welcoming jets to land.  Were harsh weather conditions not so alarming fifty years ago for air travel?

Well, this blizzard is going to be the first of several problems starting with a plane stuck in the snow right in the middle of the airport’s major runway.  Burt Lancaster is Mel Bakersfield, Lincoln’s Controller, who once again puts aside his family and his troubled marriage to oversee the matter.  He recruits the grizzled, cigar chomping Joe Petroni (George Kennedy) to clear that runway.  Mel firmly believes Joe is the only man who knows what the hell to do.  (Best I could tell is that Joe picks up a shovel like everyone else.) Mel’s other issue is that his pesky wife is disrupting his happy affair with Tanya Livingston (Jean Seberg), the no nonsense, yet perky appearing, blond airline executive with the mini uniform dress hemline.

Further upholding the proud chauvinism of this picture is everyone’s favorite lounge singing lizard Dean Martin as Vern Demerest.  These names!!!! If this movie wasn’t taking place at an airport, I’d swear it was a news station.  Vern also has an inconvenient marriage now that he’s learned his cutie stewardess Gwen Meighen (Jacqueline Bisset) is pregnant.  Cue the squeaky violin music as Vern offers to cover the abortion.  Shocking!!!! Gwen might want to have the child, but she’s gracious enough not to make it an obligation for Vern.  She’s gonna let her dreamboat wonder of a man be, so he remains a doting husband on the side.

So we got melodrama for the airport staff, the pilot, the stewardess… Hmmm…Oh yeah!  The passengers!!!!

A mentally ill, down on his luck man (Van Heflin) spends six dollars cash on a life insurance plan for his wife Inez (Maureen Stapleton) before boarding Vern & Gwen’s plane with a dynamite bomb in his briefcase.  Can Inez warn Mel, Tonya and everyone in time before the plane takes off?

Of course, this kind of stressful tension requires some adoring comic relief, and Helen Hayes as kindly old Mrs. Ada Quonsett delivers an Oscar winning performance.  She takes pleasure in being a habitual stowaway on one flight after another.  Gosh darn it if Tonya is going to make sure to put a stop to this lady’s shenanigans.  

The Cinemaniacs (Miguel, Thomas, Anthony and I) watched this together and Mig pointed out the cinematography first.  It’s dull like straight out of a Sunday night TV movie.  Thomas reminded us that this was in the same vein as most of Arthur Hailey’s material, like Hotel – the book that became a movie that became a TV series.  The soap opera occupies the first two thirds of the picture.  Then a potential threat of disaster occurs, and you work to guess who lives and who dies.  

Directors George Seaton (also screenwriter) and Henry Hathaway work to get the audience invested in these people first while trying to educate us on the most up to date operations in a fully functioning airport.  If George Kennedy’s character is not shoveling snow on a runway and giving it all he’s got in the stuck plane’s cockpit, he’s telling the others what to expect from a potential bomb explosion aboard a jet.  And Look!!! There’s telephones in Mel and Vern’s cars.  Push button ones too.  All over the airport are red phones next to white phones.  There’s luggage.  There’s blankets and pillows for everyone on board the plane. There are also unsuspecting women wearing minks and smuggling jewelry into the country, but the seasoned custom security guard has got a good eye. He can see everything, except for the guy with the bomb. And there’s snow.  Lots and lots of snow but the cabs make it to the airport in the nick of time.  There’s also a message about the need for updating construction on our country’s airports with the most sophisticated traffic controls and operations imaginable.  Should the money be spent?  On top of all this, how are Mel and Vern’s wives and families holding up?

Maybe it’s unfair.  It’s hard to embrace Airport when I have already grown up watching the ZAZ team brilliantly spoof the picture with the Airplane! films.  Yet, I’m confident that had I seen Airport upon its initial release, I likely would not hail the romances of Lancaster, Seberg, Martin and Bisset as the next iterations of Rick and Ilsa.  The dialogue and scenarios are eye rolling at best.  The chemistry sputters as soon as we see the characters for the first time.  The men are twenty five years older than the women, but the love is supposedly passionate?

The extras who are granted snippets of dialogue look like they are reading cue cards and the major players truly look bored.  Watch the cast when the bomb goes off on the plane (like you didn’t think it wouldn’t happen).  There’s no adrenaline from Dean Martin.  He looks lost without his signature scotch and cigarette. The passenger extras never got the memo that they are supposed to be on board a plane with a gaping hole in the rear lavatory.  The priest on board slaps the guy next to him, but I need more convincing of the panic that is supposed to persist.

Fifty years later, the legacy of Airport hinges on only one purpose and that is to give it the ol’ Mystery Science Theater 3000 treatment.  More importantly, once you finish watching it, about all you want to do next is watch Airplane! 

“The cockpit!  What is it?”

“It’s the little room at the front of the plane where the pilots sit, but that’s not important right now.”