Central Perk Days: Xander's Film Registry, Part V

*The 1990s*- So no one told you the nineties were gonna be this way. This decade, we saw the meteoric rise (and subsequent shocking death) of Kurt Cobain, the dawn of Must-See TV, grunge, coffee culture, and modern punk. These years-- my very first decade-- also saw some pretty important movies rise up: the first full-length films in both computer-generated animation and stop-motion animation (Toy Story and The Nightmare Before Christmas, respectively), as well as the dawn of mindless, pointless violence in a genre besides horror (Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction). So grab your five friends and order a capuccino (I may be misspelling that, I've never had one) for the ten films of the nineties.

PS-- Belated honorable mentions for the 60s, since I only recently saw these: The Innocents (1961), a chilling horror story that put The King & I's Deborah Kerr back in a hoopskirt; and How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying (1967), a hilarious workplace musical that taught us why a secretary is not a toy.

The Godfather, Part III (1990)- If Sofia Coppola's horrible, obnoxious, whiny performance is removed from the movie, what you get is a classic on par with the original Francis Ford Coppola masterpieces. Al Pacino's Michael Corleone is trying desperately to get out of the infamous business, but a whiny (seeing a pattern?) Joe Mantegna and an unpredictable Andy Garcia are just making it too flipping impossible. The film also has some incredible dramatic scenes, with Michael confessing his ultimate sins to the future Pope John Paul I, Michael consulting with his old protector Don Tommasino, and Talia Shire's Connie-- her one good performance, this film, isn't even always enjoyable!-- in a scene involving poison cannoli and Eli Wallach as her godfather. Still a better sequel than most give it credit for.

The Doors (1991)- One of Oliver Stone's best movies, this heavily inaccurate biography of Doors frontman Jim Morrison (played perfectly by Val Kilmer) is mostly impressive for the fact that a wild, pulled-from-the-freaking-sky cast manages perfection nearly every time: Michael Madsen, Meg Ryan, Kevin Dillon, Kyle MacLachlan, Kathleen Quinlan, and even Billy Idol. Robert Richardson's cinematography captures the wild nature of the sixties combined with the absolute awe of the musical performances, and Kilmer, singing as Morrison, really does sound freakishly like him. The film's one horrific blunder-- combining a bunch of women in Morrison's life into the role of the real-life Patricia Kennealy, which made Kennealy feel betrayed-- is not diverting. All in all, it's a fantastic experience for anyone, regardless of preferences in film or music.

Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country (1991)- Thank every star in the sky William Shatner's Kirk saw his last starring role! Oh, wait-- he came back in the next one. Anyway, Nicholas Meyer's fantastic sixth installment in one of the galaxy's most uneven franchises was supposed to be the last big-screen adventure for the original Enterprise crew, and it's Cold War allegory all the way. Even though the wall had been down for a couple years by the time this movie was released, the impact of its message is not lost, and it serves as a reminder of a time when the idea of peace was new and nerve-wracking. The film also has some ironies, considering the allegory: the penal colony of Rura Penthe, described as a "gulag," is introduced to a band of prisoners including Kirk and Bones by a Klingon guard who has-- a Russian accent!

Jurassic Park (1993)- Steven "Jaws" Spielberg turned out two films in 1993-- this and the award-winning Schindler's List. However, Jurassic Park is more enjoyable. Spielberg and his team actually managed to take a fairly uninteresting book and turn it into one of the masterpieces of American cinema. With all due respect to Michael Crichton, the book is, after all, quite meticulously paced (read: yawn-inducing). But with the extraneous characters deleted, the plot devices sped up-- but not recklessly so-- and the dinosaurs themselves in our full explicit view, the prehistoric thriller works a lot better as a film than a novel. And one of the best things about the movie, John Williams' world-famous score, should never be forgotten. And will never be. Turn the light off, Lex!

Robin Hood: Men In Tights (1993)- Mel Brooks doesn't get enough credit for the comic genius he is. The reason for this, quite simply, is that most of his films (History of the World: Part I, High Anxiety, and even the more-liked Silent Movie) were flops. But in Men in Tights, he pays delightful homage to himself in a way that is neither smug nor arrogant. All of his most famous jokes (including the immortal "walk this way") are re-used; Cary Elwes and the entire cast are spot-on; and the film's WTF musical numbers add to, instead of detract from, the hilarity. Today's so-called "funny men"-- Judd Apatow comes to mind-- could use a lesson from Brooks and his entire maddeningly funny, often self-deprecating ouevre.

The Lion King (1994)- Perhaps the most unlikely inspiration for a G-rated Disney musical 'toon was William Shakespeare's Hamlet, a dark, depressing story in which a rather insane young man seeks revenge on his father's murderer. Nevertheless, The Lion King works on so many levels. The songs are, more often than not, fun, but the real attractions are the animation (still top-quality to this day) and the impressive voice talent (Matthew Broderick, James Earl Jones, Nathan Lane, Jeremy Irons, and I could have sworn I heard Madge Sinclair, but that's unverified). You just can't wait to see King.

Toy Story (1995)- A movie this famous and successful must be overrated, right? Wrong. Actually, with CGI cartoons frequently popping up in theatres-- and most inspiring less than enthusiastic reactions-- the joys of the original Toy Story are nowadays, if anything, underrated. Every kid imagines that their toys are alive-- but wouldn't it be awesome if they actually were? And despite the obnoxious Randy Newman music, this remains a classic that should be on every DVD shelf in America. With backup.

Star Trek: First Contact (1996)- If you want to make a successful Star Trek film, use time travel as your central plot point. It worked for Assignment: Earth. It worked for Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home. And for Picard and company's first big-screen voyage without the hideous presence of Captain Kirk, it works better than ever. When the Borg travel back in time to assimilate the entire population of Earth (horror of horrors!-- seriously, it's no picnic), only one crew can stop them. On the way, they have to help a drunken scientist make first contact with the Vulcans, get him to fly his innovative warp ship, and dance to the dulcet tones of Steppenwolf and Roy Orbison. It also saw the franchise's first PG-13 rating. This, in the words of Zefram Cochran, is the good stuff.

The Sixth Sense (1999)- I hope M. Night's films get better. Lady in the Water was good, but it was panned by just about everyone else in the world, and I just couldn't muster any interest whatsoever in The Happening. They're not always bad, but they're never as good as the one that started it all: the penultimate ghost story, The Sixth Sense. Haley Joel Osment is effectively creepy as the young boy who sees dead people; Bruce Willis is fantastic as the psychiatrist who tries to help him, and the only thing missing from the movie is his big opportunity to kick rear and take names.

Titus (1999)- Centuries before Sweeney Todd baked his victims into pies, revenge also tasted unnaturally sweet (wink-wink) in William Shakespeare's most universally despised tragedy, Titus Andronicus. Written early in his career, it reflects his early need for tutelage and refinement before such accepted classics as Hamlet and The M-Word were written. It must absolutely suck as a play-- but the film, directed by Julie Taymor (of Broadway's Lion King), is a masterpiece. Like some of the greatest movies in history, what we're looking at isn't always what we're really looking at, and the anachronisms-- as opposed to Baz Luhrmann's disgusting Romeo + Juliet-- are not overdone and actually enhance the storyline. The really bloody tragedy includes outstanding performances from Anthony Hopkins, Jonathan Rhys Meyers, Harry Lennix, and Laura Fraser as the tortured Lavinia. In the end, you will feel every emotion you can possibly fathom.

Next time on Xander Candor, the Film Registry draws to a close with the last ten films, taken from the first decade of the twenty-first century. You'll see superheroes, gender-bending rock stars, great animation, and friendly robots. And do my eyes detect a cow on the roof of a cotton house?

It Wasn't Quite Orwell: Xander's Film Registry, Part IV

*The 1980s*-- One of the weirdest decades. The years that brought us Muppets on Broadway, Indiana Jones against the Nazis, Reagan in the White House (better than Nixon, at any rate), and, of course, Tim Burton. I'd like to take this opportunity to remember John Hughes. Even though none of his films made it onto the list (the list was established quite a while ago anyway), it's important to remember his contribution to Hollywood in the era at hand.

A sidenote: Gandhi almost made it onto this list. But if you have any sense of social responsibility, you'll probably end up watching Gandhi sometime anyway.

Reds (1981)- The Academy chose to give the top honors this particular year to Chariots of Fire. Boo! The music alone should have disqualified it from winning any awards, much like Rocky in '76. But Warren Beatty's biography of American journalist John Reed (who happened to be a socialist) is by far superior. Astoundingly, the movie achieved some level of success in the United States near the height of the Cold War, and the central character is buried in the Kremlin. It's not a reverent film whose goal is to convert people to the Marxist left, but it doesn't exactly blast Reed and his colleagues for their "Red" views. Dramatized scenes about Reed's life are woven together with interviews with Reed's real-life contemporaries, and that's the distinction that makes it a great film. They act as narrators and, as the main titles denote, Witnesses to history, and they were writer/producer/director/star Beatty's method of avoiding boring historical exposition. But they serve another purpose: they make the film, with its at-times over-the-top drama, seem real.

The Final Conflict (1981)- This third (and what should have been the last) chapter in The Omen saga isn't exactly a Godfather or a Ben-Hur. As sequels go, it's not even a Godfather Part II or an Empire Strikes Back. But there is a very specific reason why this film belongs on this list. Warning-- I have to give away the ending. Richard Donner's original Omen set new standards. Damien: Omen II was, well, the No Child Left Behind of the film world, making us sit through an hour and 45 minutes of crap interspersed with mindless scenes of gore. The Final Conflict provides smarter, more accomplished entertainment and builds to what could have been one of the most ridiculous finales in movie history: the killing of the wicked Antichrist by the reborn Jesus. Sam Neill gives a fantastic performance as a grown-up Damien, but the real high point of the film is, expectedly, Jerry Goldsmith's awe-inspiring score, which is strong, fulfilling, and entirely appropriate for each scene. It does a fantastic job in a truly thrilling scene where a group of teary-eyed Catholic priests watch the alignment of stars that signifies the Second Coming. Though it flopped, in a just world, this would be a Godfather II or an Empire.

Poltergeist (1982)- Ah, more horror, this one lighter and rated PG. Twenty-seven years later, they're still heeeeere. And still, this movie remains an enticing and relentlessly entertaining cautionary tale about builders' disrespect for the dead and, of course, letting your child watch TV after sunset. The story of a family tormented by the titular psychokinetic spectres, the Steven Spielberg-produced, Jerry Goldsmith-accompanied experience is something special: a horror movie that can bring families closer together. And kudos to Craig T. Nelson for his performance as the dad. And and a shout-out to the memory of Heather O'Rourke, who played little Carol Anne.

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982)- I happened to like Star Trek: The Motion Picture... ya know, in an it-may-be-bad-but-it's-still-Star Trek kind of way. But I still have to admit that Nicholas Meyer's darker, less grandiose, and better-acted follow-up is, well, better. The film managed to take the most boring villain in the history of Trek-- the poetic, genetically engineered Khan-- and make him interesting. It introduced us to Kirk's illegitimate son. It introduced us to Kirstie Alley. And most importantly, it showed the world that Star Wars didn't have a monopoly on superior sci-fi sequels (in an era when The Empire Strikes Back was the pinnacle of its genre). Khaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan! Khaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan!

Return of the Jedi (1983)- Okay, last minute correction, folks. I couldn't let this list pass by without at least cursorily mentioning the cultural impact of Star Wars. And although it is often lambasted for annoying audiences with Ewoks (three words, people-- Jar Jar Binks!), Return of the Jedi, in my opinion, is equally as good as The Empire Strikes Back. If for nothing else, then the fact that Luke Skywalker has finally stopped whining like a little girl who just got her Barbies taken away. But I also would like to recognize John Williams' score, Alan Hume's cinematography (a close second to Peter Suschitzky's job on Empire), and Richard Marquand's direction. This film proves more conclusively than any other movie that George Lucas belongs not in the director's chair, but in the executive producer's... office?

2010 (1984)- How good could a sequel to 2001: A Space Odyssey be, you ask? Pretty freaking good, I answer. 32 minutes shorter and with at least a good hour more dialogue, the less-cerebral sequel is a great showcase of raw eighties talent-- Roy Scheider, Helen Mirren, and John Lithgow! It also provides a good Cold War message. Of course, in the film, the Cold War would still be going in 2010, but wouldn't that have been sad? It shows the need for people to cooperate and be wary of engaging in conflicts on a world that really doesn't belong to us. And the return of Douglas Rain as the way-too-placid voice of Hal is pure gravy.

Amadeus (1984)- The 70s saw some pretty bad film versions of famous plays. Heck, the 1977 version of A Little Night Music is so allegedly bad that the producers let the prints deteriorate over three decades! Fortunately, the 80s saw them rebound. And what better example than the award-winning translation of Peter Shaffer's smash hit Amadeus? The story of Antonio Salieri and his bitter rivalry with Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, the film actually does something miraculous. Its two main characters have absolutely no likeable traits, and yet, we still watch them battle. Willingly. We still end up kind of rooting for Salieri... until he becomes a cackling mental patient reminiscing about his plot to kill Mozart and steal his music. But the tragic, funny film is either 160 (the theatrical version) or 180 (the richer Director's Cut) minutes of entertainment of a caliber you couldn't get today. The moment you hear that horrible Mozart laugh, you'll know you can't escape. And you won't want to.

Beverly Hills Cop (1984)- Not much to say about this movie, really. But the day I can't see Eddie Murphy going massively, humiliatingly undercover to catch his best friend's killers in Beverly Hills is the day I stop caring about life.

Spaceballs (1987)- After all this time, I still want Spaceballs: The Flamethrower. Mel Brooks' best comedy of the 80s is more than a Star Wars spoof. There are also hints of Planet of the Apes, Alien, and general sci-fi missteps. And Rick Moranis as Dark Helmet? Unforgettable. I even like Joan Rivers in the movie-- of course, it's only her voice. Although the copper-plated fembot she vocalizes looks more real than she ever did. The Schwartz will be with this film through all eternity.

The Abyss (1989)- Sure, James Cameron directed Terminator 2 and Aliens and eventually revoked his license to be taken seriously in Hollywood with the abomination that was Titanic. (Is it me, or does everyone but the Academy despise that movie?) But for a glimpse into his real genius, watch the Special Edition of The Abyss. A film where the aliens don't even show up until there's only like an hour and a half left of the movie (and it's a three-hour movie). A film where Ed Harris gives the performance of a lifetime. And a film that showed us the special loves between a man and his loathed ex-wife, a man and his sub... and a man and his pet rat.

Next time, we don our flannel and start singing "I'll Be There for You" for a recap of the 90s. We'll hear lions roar, Star Trek twice will soar, and Oliver Stone will bore.

That 70s List: Xander's Film Registry, Part III

*The 1970s*- No other decade contained such a broad spectrum of cultural transformation. The seventies saw the tail end of the counterculture movement, a Hollywood-spawned upswing in Christianity practice thanks to religious scare-fests like The Omen, and the very velvety rise of disco. This decade, Andrew Lloyd Webber, Star Trek, Han Solo, and great white sharks swarmed movie screens around the world; some people wore hideous outfits; All in the Family served as the televised ambassador of old-fashioned conservativism's clash with newfangled liberalism; and more hideous outfits.

MASH (1970)- Zanier, raunchier, and more genuinely funny (as in, actually funny) than its TV spinoff, Robert Altman's somewhat neglected war comedy is probably the only film that is both seen as a masterpiece and rejected in the mainstream. It's certainly the only good one. Filmed entirely with zoom lenses (that sounds headache-inducing, but it's really not) with a gargantuan cast (including Donald Sutherland, Sally Kellerman, Robert Duvall, and, 23 years before he became Odo on Deep Space Nine, Rene Auberjonois), MASH is an outrageous example of finding humor in the darkest of circumstances. And the top-quality script has "Revenge of the Blacklisted" written all over it.

The Godfather (1972)- Remember, kids. When you're going out to whack the rat in your crime family, don't forget to pick up the cannolis from the bakery on your way home. Francis Ford Coppola's epic masterpiece (adapted from Mario Puzo's... well, piece, at the very least) is refreshingly entertaining. And paradoxical, too: it simultaneously condones and condemns the life of the mobster. And as the raspy-voiced patriarch of the Corleone family, Marlon Brando reminds us that his ridiculously high paychecks were always worth it. Like MASH, it is also a cross-section of Hollywood's past and future best and brightest: Al Pacino, Diane Keaton, James Caan, Robert Duvall, Abe Vigoda, Morgana King, Sterling Hayden.... There will never be another crime drama that even comes close. It breaks my heart.

American Graffiti (1973)- All American Graffiti is legitimately remembered for in most circles is having the best soundtrack of the 70s, with every major Johnny & Sue Era hit from "Barbara Anne" to "Johnny B. Goode." Unfortunately, people don't recognize that, as a director, it is George Lucas' supreme accomplishment. Star Wars was great, but the series suffered in any of the four films he helmed (the true greats in the series are Return of the Jedi and The Empire Strikes Back). Only for this nostalgic story about friends leaving for college does his chalkboard-clapping genius come through. The ensemble cast is at their peak. The pervasive music underscores, but never outshines. And best of all is the where-are-they-now ending, both funny in its out-of-this-era comfort and chilling in its icy predictions.

The Exorcist (1973)- Whew, speaking of icy and chilling! The Exorcist is often cast aside as un-scary in this modern time-- although I'm sorry, but a digital lava monster just isn't scary-- or loathed for its depiction of absolute evil coming in through the bathroom window and terrorizing the innocent. Of course, those people fail to see the film for what it is: a stern condemnation of unchained evil. And when the elderly Father Merrin (now one of my favorite characters in film history) arrives at the Georgetown doorstep of single mother/movie star Chris MacNeill, you can't resist the urge to jump up and shout, "Ha, evil! Sucks to be you!" And then there's Regan, the 12-year-old girl tormented by the evil demon Pazuzu (not, in fact, Satan, as the common misconception goes), physically acted brilliantly by Linda Blair and voiced in her altered state by the (I admit it) sub-par Mercedes McCambridge. Brutal, lewd, and profane, it's still a masterpiece. And every second of brutal, profane lewdness has its purpose. Unlike the movies of today.

Jesus Christ Superstar (1973)- The same year that The Exorcist showed off the grim side of spirituality, David Greene (Godspell) and Norman Jewison (Superstar) directed G-rated Biblical musicals that anachronize (I officially declare that a word if it isn't already) the Gospels. Superstar is the better of the two. Jewison, who also directed Fiddler on the Roof, brought the entire production to the beautiful Holy Land itself, showcased in crumbling ruins and fantastic caves. But at the center of it all are the performances. There is no dialogue that isn't sung or accompanied, and no one handles rock opera like Carl Anderson, who should have won a little golden guy for his tortured, vocally demanding portrayal of Judas. Douglas Slocombe's unspeakably bewitching cinematography should have gotten one as well. One of those masterpieces that doesn't really get recognition. It is a well-loved film... by the twenty people who have seen it.

Tommy (1975)- The other big rock opera of the sixties, Tommy, got another big promotion to the silver screen. This one, though, is decidedly less... well, for lack of a better word, divine. It's a masterpiece, true-- but while Superstar aspired to show a more glorious side of human nature, Tommy is pure dregs. Most of the characters (the psychotic Cousin Kevin, perverted Uncle Ernie, the murderous stepfather Frank, and even Tommy's sometimes-saintly mother, Nora) belong behind bars, and so does the director for that matter. The movie-- which, for the record, missed the mark of the original opera's message by about a zillion miles-- shows everything from the virtues of faith to the dangers of cultism to the bitter, evil side of human nature. Tommy's parents get all the money their deaf/dumb/blind son makes at pinball. And in the end, when Tommy-- cured-- tries to tell his newfound followers that they don't need to live in fear, they kill his family and leave him for dead. Not uplifting in the slightest, but brilliantly acted, well-sung (mostly), and stunningly staged.

The Omen (1976)- There's so much more to this undervalued Richard Donner classic than 666, Damien, and prophetic mumbo-jumbo. The really scary things about it are two: one, Jerry Goldsmith's haunting score comprised mainly of Latin chants; two, the fact that everything that happens within the movie, every tragedy, has a legitimate possible explanation. The cheaply conceived, expensively realized 2006 remake lacked the element of mystery-- in fact, it openly defied it by altering one of the film's climactic demises. But in this brilliant original, for all we know, the people who try to reveal Damien's identity as the Antichrist could be insane. The child never says more than a very short sentence that any five-year-old might say, and even the superbly performed role of nanny Mrs. Baylock may not be the Satanic guardian we're inclined to believe she is; it's all suggestive. And brilliantly, that's what works. Sidenote: the money Fox made off this movie went partially towards paying for Star Wars.

Superman (1978)- Another great Richard Donner film, this campy but somehow believable film defined the modern superhero genre for Hollywood. For taking over the role played so perfectly by real-life hero Christopher Reeve, 21st-century tabloid-fodder poser Brandon Routh should be jailed for the rest of his life. Other top-notch talent fills the movie from start to finish, from Marlon Brando as Superman's Kryptonian father to Gene Hackman as Lex Luthor, whose initially ridiculous sounding real-estate scheme turns into one of the biggest, most believable apocalyptic nightmares ever conceived for a comic-book picture. Speaking of nightmares, Margot Kidder is terrible as Lois Lane, but you can't have everything. And with John Williams' nearly incomparable score, the eye-popping special effects, and Geoffrey Unsworth's tragically final round of cinematographic genius, Superman comes close to filling that unattainable quota.

Hair (1979)- 11 years after the play shook the world, Milos Forman (Amadeus) directed a thoroughly different two-hour movie with the same character names and songs, but a continuous story in the place of the play's famous book-that-isn't-really-a-book. A great cross-section of the 1960s hippie movement, the film version of Hair is a mostly brilliant beginning and middle thrown together with an ending that is at first jarring, but eventually can be recognized as a brilliant work of cinema. You'll walk away singing "Manchester England," "Donna," "3500," "I Got Life," and "Easy to Be Hard," and just about every other song herein. As far as movie musicals go, it's not perfect. But it's pretty close.

The Muppet Movie (1979)- I firmly believe that every child should see this movie before the age of two. In the same year that Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock made their big-screen debut, the better story and star treatments went to the TV-to-film transition of Kermit and Fozzie. From the Hollywood prologue to the swamp-bound prelude of "The Rainbow Connection" to the uproarious conclusion, The Muppet Movie is one childish spectacle that adults shouldn't have to put aside. And kids won't get the numerous celebrity cameos, but that just means they get to focus on the magic of Jim Henson at work-- a genius that has never, and will never, be equaled.

Next up, we tackle the 1980s. For all you XC readers out there, that means everything from powdered wigs to fuzzy Russian hats to pointy Vulcan ears.

Make Bad Spy Movies, Not War: Xander's Film Registry, Part II

*The 1960s*-- the flower power era. The decade we landed on the moon ('cause we really did, people, get used to it!), developed mainstream cynicism, and sat by while at least three of the greatest men in American history were viciously murdered. The era celebrated in Hair, and reproached in just about every movie made about it. These ten movies reflect the shifting priorities of viewers in the English-speaking world, as well as the counterculture movement in its brief life.

Dr. No (1962)- The film that introduced us to 007 wasn't even an adequate preview of the franchise that lay in store. For one thing, it could be taken 100 percent seriously. Also, in his series-founding performance, Sean Connery proves that, whatever the title of his 1967 adventure might suggest, you really only live once. Connery had three great Bond movies in him, and that's it. This first one has him trying to save the space program from the most believable villain in the entire series-- the titular Dr. No. Ursula Andress co-stars.

Lawrence of Arabia (1962)- David Lean's epic war drama should inspire a lot of gratitude in us as moviegoers. Peter O'Toole's first starring role; the best performance of Alec Guinness' career (oo, another blow at Star Wars, sorry); the best battle scenes ever to show up on screen until Return of the King. The story of World War I officer T.E. Lawrence, LoA is 227 minutes of pure cinema. What more can be said?

Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964)- It's astounding that Stanley Kubrick gets more recognition for the wrenchingly horrible A Clockwork Orange than this black-and-white apocalypse comedy. The film that showed us why you can't fight in the War Room, Strangelove is an all-star spoof of early Cold War paranoia that seems to phase back into relevance every two decades: the arms race of the 80s, our modern fear of self-destruction.... And, of course, in the title role is Peter Sellers' pinnacle performance: an ex-Nazi scientist who advocates a post-apocalyptic underground society in which intelligent, rich men have the eternal companionship of plenty of babes. Ya know, to further the human race. A definite classic!

My Fair Lady (1964)- No, Eliza, don't get him his slippers! By far the funniest musical in history, My Fair Lady is a story of transformation as "guttersnipe" Eliza Doolittle becomes the most beautiful woman in England. Rex Harrison-- just like he did in Cleopatra-- makes the movie as Henry Higgins, the bossy, chauvinistic, sometimes cruel professor whose experiment is Eliza. The rest of the picture is hilariously cluttered with Eliza's alcoholic, bone-lazy father, the verbose Freddy, and Higgins' hilarious mother.

Our Man Flint (1966)- Without Our Man Flint and In Like Flint (1967), there would have been no Austin Powers. We probably wouldn't know who James Coburn is, either. His star-making role as ridiculous superspy Derek Flint in Daniel Mann's action-comedy remains one of the most tamely-yet-outrageously-funny characters in history. Equally funny is Lee J. Cobb as Flint's bamboozled boss. The bad guys aren't particularly threatening, but it's still first-class escapist adventure. Spy's eye activity: try to find the part when a supposedly thick "steel wall" buckles under Flint's gentle push, and the enormous foam "boulder" hitting the head of an actress on the way off a self-destructing island.

Doctor Dolittle (1967)- By this time, musicals were no longer what people wanted to see, and the ones that were made-- this, Camelot, Star-- were huge flops. Even so, this one happens to be pretty great. For one thing, with a giant pink snail and a two-headed dancing llama thingy, this was as close as kids of the day were getting to the psychedelic movement. And for another, there's Rex Harrison, one of the best actors in history, kicking Eddie Murphy's butt, quite frankly. One of the films every kid should see.

The Jungle Book (1967)- Another movie every kid should see. The last Disney movie supervised by Walt himself, this classic is still solidly entertaining for viewers of any age. In other words, if your kid wants to watch TV, put this in before Hannah Montana or Dora kill your brain cells. Great Disney songs, Disney animation that still looks impressive... but Disney's trademark hackery is nowhere in sight. Whew.

2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)- The only Kubrick movie better than Dr. Strangelove! This very-cerebral, still-visually-gripping sci-fi event is the standard by which all sci-fi movies since have been measured... and found wanting. From the haunting entreaties of the lethally malfunctioning computer Hal (he's afraid, Dave) to the first-rate design to the jaw-dropping climax as Dave Bowman enters the monolith (and we spend ages seeing multicolored, astounding sights I can't describe here-- it's still the sixties, after all), 2001, though obviously a false futurism, is anything but a false promise.

Planet of the Apes (1968)- It's no 2001, but it's a very close second. And if you're keeping score, that's four Charlton Heston movies so far on the registry. In this loose adaptation of a French sci-fi novel, symbolism, irony, paradox, and primates are everywhere. And it inspired a series that sustained itself not in a linear, but a cyclical, narrative-- something very rare in Hollywood history. Not to mention the first human-chimpanzee kiss on screen (in your face, Scott Bakula!). Often disturbing, always a masterpiece.

Medium Cool (1969)- It's not really a documentary, not really a drama, and certainly not a docudrama. Haskell Wexler's interpretation of the events around the 1968 Democratic National Convention is one thing for sure, though-- required viewing. Full of hope for the future of Bobby Kennedy-- and, hauntingly, released a year after his assassination-- and somewhat nonlinear, it's probably the only successful eyewitness account of American history that isn't hideously boring. Great performances by Harold Blankenship and Verna Bloom as a mother and son befriended by a desensitized Chicago newsman.

Next time: the style-less seventies, from MASH to Muppets.

When Johnny Met Mary Sue: Xander's Film Registry, Part I

Welcome to a six-part series bearing witness to CX's true love of the motion picture. In the next six posts, I will cover 10 films each from six decades-- films that everyone, in my sincere opinion, everyone should see, for many reasons which will be made clear. After all, what do I know better than movies?

... nothing.

*The 1950s*-- the era romanticized in Grease, lamented in the modern world, and packed with malt shops, psychological repression, and ill-fated teenage rebellion. (Ah, if we could only go back.) A decade wherein movie audiences were lured back to movie theatres (after abandoning them for the more comfortable, in-your-own-home convenience of TV) with blockbuster movie spectacles featuring big names and colossal budgets. The infancy of widescreen. These ten films represent, not necessarily the best of the fifties, but the absolute must-sees. Don't ask me why the two aren't mutually exclusive.

FYI-- the movies in this series will be listed in chronological order... mostly.

The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951)- Recently remade as a Keanu Reeves vehicle (there should have been a freaking mourning period when they greenlit that movie!!), Robert Wise's original black-and-white classic still possesses supreme power. One of the most emotionally legitimate and technically impressive films ever made (despite the clunky 50s special effects-- it wasn't a DeMille movie, for crying out loud), Earth was really the first film to use an ambassador from outer space to explain to us why we need to stop killing each other and ourselves. The idea of there being aliens out there who actually want to see us... ya know, not self-destruct, is one of the most awe-inspiring thoughts the human mind can produce. Not to mention strong performances and good dialogue. Buy a copy on DVD, then shatter a copy of the remake... I recommend a sledgehammer.

The Greatest Show on Earth (1952)- Okay, so it's more like the Most Melodramatic Movie on Earth-- or it was, before Titanic. But some scenes in Cecil B. DeMille's circus drama are actually amazing. Example: there's a trick where a girl lays down under an elephant's foot with the help of a trainer, but when the trainer gets jealous that the girl has found a new love... well, there's a close call. They don't make 'em like this anymore... because if they did, no one would ever go to the movies ever again. Nevertheless, it's a good reminder that the overblown, big-budget films of today could have been so much better with the right direction from a bygone age, and performances from Charlton Heston and James Stewart definitely don't hurt.

The Robe (1953)- I called the 1950s the infancy of widescreen. Well, labor began with Abel Gance's 1920s Napoleon, but the bundle of joy didn't finally arrive until The Robe, the Richard Burton vehicle that introduced the world to one of the widest of widescreen camera techniques. The drama is a little sparse, and it does sometimes feel preachy and sanctimonious (it's a story about Jesus and Pilate), but, again, it really makes you wish Transformers could have been handled with class like this.

Guys and Dolls (1955)- What do you get when Marlon Brando, Frank Sinatra, and director Joseph Mankiewicz team up? An absorbing gambling dramedy with a great jazzy score! Don't worry, that wasn't an attempt at a joke. It's the truth. You have an illegal floating crap game (that desperately needs a new place to play), a comically obnoxious woman who seems to be permanently engaged to Sinatra's character (that'd be Adelaide), and an attempt by Brando to woo and win a Salvation Army bell-ringer, played by Jean Simmons (no, not Gene). Some of the messages may be a little dated (the that's-so-offensive crowd might even consider them "politically incorrect"), but it's still a pretty good way to spend two and a half hours.

Daddy Long Legs (1955)- One of the lesser-remembered widescreen musicals in Fox's library, this Fred Astaire comedy sees him sponsor an 18-year-old (or something like that) French girl while the world questions the appropriateness of such an act. Thin on story, morbidly obese on showmanship, but absolutely memorable one way or another. Particularly great is a scene at a French orphanage in which one of the little guys declares that he wants a hamburger with chocolate sauce.

The King & I (1956)- What more needs to be said? Great humor, a believable story (because it really happened, duh), two impossibly high-caliber leading performances, and legendary show music. A real milestone!

Carousel (1956)- Cut out the preachy, far-fetched scenes in "Heaven" and you've got a great story, taken from a European drama with a way-more tragic, way-less uplifting finale. Its message is essentially that it's not how you spend your life that defines you-- it's the basic goodness in your life, and your devotion to those close to you. Criticized widely as a film that glorifies the deadbeat lifestyle and cuts too much out of the story (namely a lot of songs that really don't do much to further said story), Carousel is still funny and sad, and definitely gets a response.

The Ten Commandments (1956)- Apart from its technical innovations, I really can't find anything good to say for Cecil B. DeMille's 1923 silent version of The Ten Commandments. It's dull, boring, confusing, and it feels waaaaay too much like a Sunday school lesson to have any legitimate entertainment value. But when he went back and re-did the movie, taking out the original story's 20th-century segments and fleshing out a story of unbridled scope and focus, he atoned for his sins (no pun intended). It's not the grand master of Biblical epics (read a little further down), but the gaudiness of the sets and costumes and the absolute camp of the performances somehow combine to make a thrilling movie experience that both betrays its director's obvious bias and also overcomes it to produce universally accessible entertainment. And Yul Brynner rocks.

Gigi (1958)- This is what we in the business like to refer to as a "total chick flick," but it's the rare chick flick that anyone can get into. It includes hilariously overt talk about sex, at least for 1958, and a hilarious performance from French legend Maurice Chevalier. There's nothing that comes across quite as well as his singing "I'm Glad I'm Not Young Anymore" and reminiscing about a past relationship while being told by the ex that everything he says is absolutely not true in "I Remember It Well." Oh, and some girl falls in love.

Ben-Hur (1959)- This is the grand master of Biblical epics. It does the impossible at every opportunity: depicts Jesus without being overly operatic or holier-than-thou; shows mammoth spectacle without losing sight once of the human characters; and features a score that even ranks above John Williams' Star Wars as the best in movie history. Winner of 11 little gold action figures in 1960, William Wyler's supreme drama of the ancient world remains one of the most amazing achievements ever. And for the last time, people, no one actually died in the chariot race! All the victims look like dummies, respond like dummies, and are, in fact, dummies!

Tune in next time as we here at XC examine the swingin' sixties, from Lawrence of Arabia to Medium Cool.

What Utter Gar-Bage!

I know it's a cartoon, but I maintain that one of the best science fiction TV shows in recent memory is Matt Groening's "Futurama." That show was five seasons of great voice-work, movie-quality animation, butt-kicking humor, and timely, relevant stories (even if it was set in the 31st century).

One of my all-time favorite episodes of "Futurama" (although I can't remember the title) was the one in which we learn that all of Earth's trash was, in the past, gathered into a big ball and shot off the planet. In the episode, the enormous ball of garbage was coming back to Earth, threatening the planet with total and unbearably smelly annihilation, as if a bunch of disgruntled sanitation workers were fans of the movie Armageddon.

Then, in yesterday's newspaper, I saw a story that made me gasp so hard I nearly asphyxiated.

In the Pacific Ocean, there is a swirling mass of plastic waste twice the size of the state of Texas!

Still not quite believing mankind is irresponsible?

This story wouldn't have had nearly the impact it had were it not for the sheer size of this thing. It is now a mobile, naturally artificial island cutting a polluted swath through an ocean that has long been associated with pristine water.

Granted, we do not live in a DVD of South Pacific, but it's still too much to believe.

The city of Seattle is proposing a charge of 20 cents every time you leave the supermarket with disposable plastic bags. If anyone reading this is eligible to vote in the city of Seattle, I implore you to vote the measure in! I'm sure a substantial percentage of that giant piece of crud is made up of plastic bags! Who knows how many fish and other oceanic life forms are dying cruel, horrible deaths because people don't give a crap what happens to their crap?

Today, once again, I am not proud to be a member of the human race.

P.S. You should check out that "Futurama" episode.