Showing posts with label Walt Disney. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Walt Disney. Show all posts

Saturday, April 16, 2016

An open letter from 'Captain America: Civil War'

Captain America: Civil War wants you to know a few things.

Hello, America.

I'm Captain America: Civil War. I'm a major motion picture from Marvel Studios and Walt Disney coming to a theater near you on May 6, 2016. That's just around the corner. Maybe you've seen an advertisement for me at a movie theater. Or on television. Or on the Internet. Or in the back of a cab. Or on one of those little screens they have at gas pumps now. So you have heard of me? That's nice.

So...

'Sup? Let's get to know each other. Mind if I put on some music?



There. Isn't that better? I thought so, too. Why don't you lie down while I pour you a glass of Amaretto and give you a nice, relaxing foot massage?

That's more like it. Can't you just feel all the stress leaving your body? Oh, yeah.

Now, baby -- do you mind if I call you baby?

Baby, I know that you've been hurt by big budget, major studio superhero films in the past. And I mean the very recent past. Not to be too forward, but I heard through the grapevine that you just suffered a bad breakup with Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice. Someone told me that you came out of the theater depressed and disoriented. You even said you were "done" with superhero movies forever. Is that right? Don't be shy, America. Captain America: Civil War is here to listen to you. Speak from the heart.

Okay. That's what I thought.

Well, baby, I'm here to tell you that the bad times are over and the good times are just beginning. I know you've been down some tough roads, and, believe me, I feel your pain. Dawn of Justice may have broken your heart, but that's just because he's a chump who doesn't respect and cherish you like I do. That ain't gonna happen with Captain America: Civil War. I know it's difficult, but I'm asking you to trust again. Captain America: Civil War is here to make everything all right.

Don't forget: I'm just a $250 million franchise film standing in front of a nation of ticket buyers, asking them to love him.

Yeah, I took that line from Notting Hill. I'm genuinely sorry about that. But my screenplay is all new, baby, I swear. Take my hand, America. You won't regret it.

Did I mention that I have Spider-Man? And no origin story this time? Oh, you like that, don't you? Yeah,  you do, you saucy little minx.

So, what do you say? Do we have a date on May 6? In 3D and IMAX in selected locations?

Oh, yeah.

Monday, October 13, 2014

Ed Wood extra! Talking 'Ed Wood' (1994) on the Disney, Indiana podcast

Minnie and Mickey scarecrows representing the hosts of the Disney, Indiana.

Uh oh! It's podcast time again! Here's another opportunity to run my big, fat mouth! I never turn down the chance to pontificate about something trivial. It's one of the great pleasures of life. Yes, Scott and Tracey Morris, two truly sweet and generous folks whom I've known since my days on Mail Order Zombie, graciously invited me onto their own podcast, Disney, Indiana, to discuss the 1994 biopic Ed Wood, directed by Tim Burton and starring Johnny Depp and Martin Landau. As you might have guessed from its name, Disney, Indiana is a biweekly podcast devoted to all aspects of the House of Mouse. That includes films released by such Disney subsidiaries as Touchstone, the company that dared to turn the life of Edward Davis Wood, Jr. into a major motion picture. Ed Wood celebrates its 20th anniversary in 2014, so this was a great opportunity to talk about the film at length. I think we had a good, informative chat about the movie, and I hope my readers will enjoy it. If this sounds intriguing, here are some links to help you out:

And if you're still not satisfied, here's an article about the early days of Touchstone that I co-wrote with my good pal, Craig J. Clark. It has nothing to do with Ed Wood or Tim Burton, but I think it's a good read nevertheless.

Monday, February 17, 2014

Beauty got a bad rap. Airplanes totally killed that beast.


The last line of King Kong (1933) has never made sense to me. Carl Denham, the man responsible for transplanting a gigantic gorilla from distant, obscure Skull Island to heavily populated New York City, has just watched airplanes shoot and kill the beast. Lives have been lost. Property has been destroyed. Thousands are suffering because of this man's irresponsible actions. And what does he have to say about the situation?

"It was beauty killed the beast."

Yeah, sure, Carl. Whatever you say. Cherchez la femme. That's your angle, right? Blame Ann Darrow (Fay Wray) for this fiasco. Not only have you trashed New York, Carl, you've learned absolutely nothing from this experience.


Saturday, September 28, 2013

Mill Creek comedy classics #58: "Steamboat Bill, Jr." (1928)

Buster Keaton is a dandy who tries to impress his father in the surprisingly emotional Steamboat Bill, Jr.

The flick: Steamboat Bill,  Jr. (United Artists release of a Joseph M. Schenk production, 1928) [buy the set]

Current IMDb rating: 7.9

Director*: Charles Reisner (The Hollywood Revue of 1929; The Marx Brothers' The Big Store)

*Buster Keaton was an uncredited co-director.

Actors of note:
  • Tom McGuire (The Marx Brothers' A Night at the Opera, Meet John Doe, Little Caesar, etc.)
  • Ernest Torrence (The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Tol'able David)
  • Tom Lewis (a handful of obscure 1920s films; died before this one was released)
  • Marion Byron (Trouble in Paradise, They Call It Sin)
  • James T. Mack (busy 1930s character actor; appeared in Buster Keaton's College; made an uncredited cameo as a prompter in Citizen Kane)

The film's climactic storm.
The gist of it: Rough-mannered sea captain "Steamboat Bill" Canfield (Torrence) receives a telegram informing him that his son, whom he has not seen in many years and who has been away at school in Boston, is coming to visit him in the seaside community of River Junction, as per his mother's wishes. There, Bill and his loyal "last and first mate" Tom Carter (Lewis) operate a battered but durable old steamboat called the Stonewall Jackson, but they are in danger of being run out of business by pompous tycoon J.J. King (McGuire), who owns many local businesses and has just launched his own, super-deluxe steamboat, the King. Undaunted, Bill and Tom go to the depot to meet Bill's long-lost son, but they have a tough time picking him out of the crowd.

Eventually, they meet up, and Bill is utterly horrified to learn that his offspring, William Canfield, Jr. (Buster Keaton) is a foppish, dandified wimp. Worse yet, William almost immediately strikes up a Romeo-and-Juliet-type romance with J.J. King's pretty daughter, Kitty (Byron). Both fathers disapprove of the union and do everything to keep the young lovers apart. Meanwhile, Bill keeps trying to make a man out of William but has little success. When William won't stop seeing Kitty, Bill buys him a ticket back to Boston and tells him to get out of River Junction. But things take a turn for the unexpected when King has the Stonewall Jackson condemned by the safety commission. Infuriated, Bill physically assaults King and is tossed into jail. William throws away his train ticket and attempts to break his father out of jail, but he succeeds only in getting himself taken to the hospital with a closed head injury. But just then, a tremendous storm comes through River Junction, destroying nearly everything but the Stonewall Jackson, and William gets a chance to prove himself a hero to his girlfriend, her father, and his own father all at once.

Hank and Bobby Hill struggle to find common ground.

My take: I never went into Buster Keaton's films with the intent of psychoanalyzing the man, but Steamboat Bill, Jr. makes it tough to avoid the issue. Quite simply, this whole movie is about Buster trying to win the approval of his gruff, imposing father. There are obvious parallels here to Buster's own life, in which he fled from his violent, alcoholic father, Joe, in terror in the 1910s, leaving the Keaton family's vaudeville act for a solo career. After becoming successful, the comedian did not sever all ties with Joe but instead hired him repeatedly to act in his short films. And here is Buster Keaton's most elaborate meditation yet on father-son tension.

I think Steamboat Bill, Jr. will strongly resonate with any weird, nerdy kid who ever felt like he was disappointing his father by never learning to properly throw a football or change a tire. Certainly, there are echoes of this relationship in Mike Judge's animated series, King of the Hill (1997-2010), which was mainly about a proud, traditionally "manly" father, Hank Hill (voiced by Judge), and his goofy, misfit son, Bobby (voiced by Pamela Adlon), as they struggled to understand each other and build a workable relationship. Hank's main interests in life were beer, propane, BBQ, football, and mowing his lawn. Bobby was more drawn to stand-up comedy, puppeteering, music, and other creative pursuits. But to their credit, these two very different people worked to find common ground on a week-by-week basis.

Being only about 70 minutes long, rather than 13 years long like Judge's show, Steamboat Bill, Jr. has to condense this father-son saga into one bite-sized story with little vignettes that speak volumes about the relationship between the two men before wrapping everything up in a way that will satisfy the audience. The incredibly elaborate storm sequence -- which I did not know in advance was coming -- is an admittedly extreme yet effective solution to that narrative challenge. It's also an incredible feat of movie-making, especially considering when it was made, and a sublime showcase for Keaton's fearless, athletic physical comedy. Incidentally, it is here that Buster performs his absolute most famous stunt. During the storm, the wall of a house falls down on top of Buster, but the young man is not harmed because he was standing right where the window landed. It's a joke countless comedians have imitated, including "Weird Al" Yankovic in the "Amish Paradise" video.

Sadly, although the film is generally lauded by reviewers today, Steamboat Bill, Jr.'s critical reputation is not quite so sterling as it ought to be. Movie historians rather grudgingly declare it one of the last "classics" of Buster's golden age of the 1920s before he signed on with MGM and lost creative control over his films. However, to a man, they point out that Steamboat cannot be considered on the same "level" as Keaton's The General (1926). But why does there need to be a caste system among films anyway? Why do critics feel the need to turn everything into a horse race or a pissing contest? What good -- what single, tangible benefit -- has ever come from that? Name me one, and I'll bow at your feet.

I'd advise these critics and other viewers to concentrate on the movie they're actually watching and not worry so much about how it stacks up against other, "superior" films. It's all subjective and impossible to "measure" or "prove," so there's little point in worrying about it. I'd give the same recommendation to those folks who fiercely debate such topics as who was the greatest rock drummer of all time or which one novel they'd want on a desert island. Fellas, relax! You're wasting precious brain cells!

Upon its release in 1928, Steamboat Bill, Jr. received a rather vicious panning in the New York Times from short-sighted critic Mordaunt Hall, who in the same column raved about a now almost totally forgotten Dolores Del Rio melodrama called Ramona. While the sole remaining copy of Ramona today collects dust in the Czech Film Archive, Steamboat is available as a special edition Blu-ray from Kino Video, so perhaps history has rendered a different verdict than Mr. Hall did. (This same critic also gave Fritz Lang's Metropolis a rather sniffy appraisal. Could he pick 'em or what?) Despite Mordaunt Hall's objections, Steamboat Bill, Jr. received a high-profile and durable tribute the very same year it was released when Walt Disney's first cartoon with synchronized sound was titled Steamboat Willie. That particular 'toon launched the career of Mickey Mouse and has eclipsed even Keaton's film in fame and popularity. For the record, Mordaunt Hall liked the cartoon, proving that even a stopped watch is right twice a day.

Buster and his umbrella.
Is it funny: Yes. That's what really matters in a comedy, isn't it? Take away the flashy effects and the psychological underpinnings, and Steamboat Bill, Jr. is still a well-functioning and productive joke machine. A lot of the humor comes from the contrast between crude, no-nonsense "man's man" Ernest Torrence and fussy, effete "college boy" Buster Keaton. One review claims that Buster was "too old" for the part, but he looks young enough to me. The thick, almost kabuki-like makeup he wears renders his age difficult to discern.

Buster's very appearance at the beginning, complete with a beret and a ukulele, is funny because it's so out of place and inappropriate for River Junction. At one point, Buster prepares to board the Stonewall Jackson dressed in the fancy uniform of a Titanic crew member, and Tom tells his boss that "no jury would convict" him for shooting his son at this moment. There's a great extended sequence in which Buster tries on a great number of hats (including his signature porkpie, which he quickly discards) while his increasingly impatient father looks on. After all that fuss, Buster's new hat blows away the second he leaves the store, and the young man winds up wearing the same beret that had upset his father in the first place.

There are a few other nice extended comic sequences, like Buster's futile attempts to break his father out of jail with tools hidden inside a suspiciously large loaf of bread. Some of my favorite moments in the film, though, are the little ones -- like the running joke in which Steamboat Bill repeatedly injures his feet by stepping barefoot on the nutshells his son has carelessly left on the floor. Buster also gets some nice comedic mileage out of an umbrella that gets turned inside out and ends up collecting rather than deflecting water.

My grade: A

P.S. - Viewers should know that there is a bit of racial humor in the film, though not much. At one point, Bill is searching for his son and makes several wrong guesses -- including one man who turns out to be black, a situation that provokes gales of laughter from Tom Carter. In another scene, Buster falls into the ocean while attempting to see his beloved Kitty King. Soaked to the bone, Buster climbs back aboard the Stonewall Jackson, which for some reason terrifies a Negro guitar player who runs away in utter horror. Actually, in retrospect, maybe it wasn't so cool to name the heroes' steamboat after a Confederate general.

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Mill Creek comedy classics #20: "The Gang's All Here" (1941)

Either that gunman is gigantic or Jackie Moran and Marcia Mae Jones are tiny in The Gang's All Here.

The flick: The Gang's All Here (Monogram Pictures, 1941) [buy the set]

Current IMDb rating: 6.3

Director: Jean Yarbrough (Freckles Comes Home)

Actors of note:
  • Frankie Darro (voice of Lampwick in Pinocchio; played Robby the Robot in Forbidden Planet)
  • Keye Luke (the old Chinese man in both Gremlins movies; played "number one son" in the Charlie Chan series, much more)
  • Marcia Mae Jones (The Way We Were, Heidi, Imitation of Life)
  • Jackie Moran (Gone with the Wind; played Huckleberry Finn in The Adventures of Tom Sawyer; Russ Meyer's Wild Gals of the Naked West)
  • Robert Homans (The Grapes of Wrath, The Maltese Falcon)

The gist of it: A large number of "accidents," some fatal, have been plaguing a certain trucking company. Now, Pop Wallace (Homans) is having trouble finding anyone to drive his trucks. Nervy pipsqueak Frankie (Darro) and his lazy, bug-eyed black sidekick Jeff (Moreland) answer Pop's newspaper ad. He's reluctant and highly skeptical, but he gives them the job anyway because he's desperate. Meanwhile, Pop's pushy, demanding daughter Patsy (Jones) is always hounding her grease-monkey boyfriend Chick (Moran) to be more of a take-charge kind of guy... a real go-getter, like Frankie. The so-called accidents are intentional sabotage by a gang of crooks who have forced Pops to be part of their scheme, and it isn't long before Frankie and Jeff find themselves in real trouble.

Keye Luke
My take: If you hear the term "trucker comedy," you're liable to think of mudflaps, CB lingo, and the music of Waylon Jennings and Merle Haggard. But The Gang's All Here is from an earlier era, before the big rigger enjoyed his brief heyday as an anti-establishment, good ol' boy hero in the 1970s. The song "Convoy" wouldn't be written for a few more decades yet. The rigs ain't all that big in this flick, and the drivers aren't transporting anything cool like dynamite or beer, just "perishables" to a Fresno grocery store.

The film actually works a little better as a crime thriller than a comedy. If you'll notice, a lot of the folks from Freckles Comes Home are reunited here, and like that film, The Gang's All Here -- an utterly meaningless title, by the way, unless it's an oblique reference to the film's many gangsters  -- features more murder and mayhem than you'd normally expect from a comedy. The first few minutes, in fact, are nothing but trucks being run off the road and tumbling down cliffs, followed by a montage of headlines about the drivers who have been killed and maimed. It's a weird start to a supposedly funny film, but it does lend a sense of real urgency to the plot. Frankie and Jeff really are in trouble!

I should mention, by the way, that Mantan Moreland's character in this film is scarcely more admirable than his one in Freckles Comes Home, except that Moreland does eventually become sort of valuable to Frankie as a sidekick. But Moreland subserviently refers to his friend as "Mister Frankie," and once again, the movie stops dead so that he and Laurence Criner (whose character is embarrassingly named "Ham Shanks") can do little comedy bits that emphasize Moreland's dishonesty and Criner's stupidity. Not a proud moment for humanity.

But there's hope elsewhere in the film! Keye Luke, the incredibly prolific character actor, plays a Chinese-American character who speaks English fluently and is portrayed in an entirely flattering and positive light. You could even argue that his character is the real hero of this movie. That genuinely surprised me.

Lampwick: Still terrifying.
Is it funny: It's not overly funny, no. It's not a total washout as a comedy, though. Marcia Mae Jones is somewhat fun as the mouthy, never-satisfied Patsy. What Chick sees in her (other than her chipmunk-cute looks) is beyond me, but she's more interesting than the bland love interests in a lot of these movies. The cowardice and laziness of Mantan Moreland's character make him a relic of a bygone era, but the man clearly had a flair for comedy. His timing and delivery are impeccable, even when the material he's given isn't up to snuff.

And then there's the ostensible star of this flick, Frankie Darro, probably best known for traumatizing generations of children as the voice of Lampwick in Disney's Pinocchio. His transformation into a donkey remains terrifying, over 70 years later. His character here, also named Frankie, is a loudmouth whose braggadocio is undercut by his small stature. You know how little dogs are often the most aggressive, challenging much larger dogs to fights they can't possibly win? That's Frankie Darro -- a yappy little Chihuahua who goes around snapping at pit bulls. As someone whose family has always had dogs, I found that rather amusing.

My grade: B-

P.S. - Mantan Moreland and Laurence Criner won't be up for any NAACP Image awards for this film.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

On psychopharmacology and Walt Disney's "Dumbo"

Dumbo with both Timothy Q. Mouse and the magic feather in tow
We've all seen Dumbo, right? It's a 1941 Disney animated film in which a circus elephant is mocked and shunned for his oversize ears but eventually becomes a great star because those ears act as wings, making him the world's only "flying elephant." The late (and sorely missed) cartoon historian Donald J. Markstein adroitly compared this narrative to that of the song "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer," in that both characters are ostracized for physical "deformities" but both eventually earn success for those very same deformities. Like Rudolph, who is redeemed by Santa Claus, Dumbo needs another character to make him recognize his own greatness. In this case, it is a fast-talking, uniform-wearing rodent named Timothy Q. Mouse, who convinces the elephant that it is a "magic feather" which allows the large creature to defy gravity. By the end of the movie, Dumbo has ditched the feather and is flying solo

Here's a relevant clip from the movie. Try your best to ignore the possibly-racist depiction of the crows in the film. I'm trying to make an analogy here.



Dumbo's famous magic feather has become a symbol over the ensuing decades for any crutch we think we require in order to succeed, when all along the success has been residing within ourselves. If an athlete has a pair of "lucky socks," for instance, that's one kind of magic feather.

This issue is on my mind because today's a big day for me. I'm attending both an appointment with my MD and a session with my therapist. The last couple of weeks since I've been home have been relatively incident-free. Work remains hectic and stressful -- and, yes, I was secretly freaking out about the election all the while -- but I've gotten through it with only a few minor crises of conscience. Not that the people around me have noticed, but I've been on my best behavior lately.

How much of that is due to me and how much is due to Xanax and Celexa? At what point do these pills become magic feathers? I guess we'll find out as time passes. Meanwhile, wish me luck on getting to these appointments on time and in one piece.