The Simpsons Movie (2007)

Directed by David Silverman
Written by A Lot of People (James L. Brooks, Matt Groening, Al Jean, Ian Maxtone-Graham, George Meyer, David Mirkin, Mike Reiss, Mike Scully, Matt Selman, John Swartzwelder, and Jon Vitti)

Rating: 6.75/10.00 or ***

Does anyone remember the glory years of The Simpsons? I think I was alive at that point, but I'm sure I was too young to understand the jokes. Now I understand the jokes but their comedic touch has long since dwindled. The Simpsons Movie plays like one long episode of the show that doesn't come close to the brilliant episodes that this show produced one after another for several years in the 1990s.

While I should write about the movie, I instead want to write of the popularity of this long-running franchise. I remember a friend years ago telling me that he was worried he was the only one who understood the show. Yes, pretentious, but he had a point. The show is infinitely popular with the young crowd. Having observed this young crowd at a local theater, I couldn't help but wonder if any of them understand the subtle political and entertainment references. I say this because several of the filmgoers sought to be the most obscenely stereotypical teenagers (belching contests, cell phone tag, laughing very loudly at bad previews).

It became even more obvious when many of the jokes I laughed at were not joined by the rest of the crowd. Meanwhile, the physical humor of The Simpsons, which has long since become tired, met with uproars by most of the rest of the theater. And yet any joke with an ounce of intellectual substance was often met with silence.

And this is where the movie fails. The Simpsons Movie has a lot of the physical humor but has sparingly few jokes of substance. It was strange; it almost felt like I was watching a restrained, more coherent Family Guy episode. I actually found the film to be a dud in the humor department, but I could tell the audience was all in all pleased with the result. Makes me wonder if I'm the one "getting it".

I remember when The Simpsons was a cultural commentary, a motion picture reference here, and a song reference there. When did this become secondary to the physical humor repeats the franchise is giving us now?

I can't help but wonder if popularity is a part of it. The show's popularity remains strong today, and I am starting to wonder if it's because the viewers are fans of Adam Sandler and not of John Cleese. (I wonder if many teenagers even know who John Cleese is.) The real social commentary of The Simpsons today is its fans and not its content.

As for the movie itself, there are some moments, generally when anyone voiced by Hank Azaria and Harry Shearer is at front and center. I especially loved the Professor Frink and Mr. Burns moments. The film's beginning is also memorably funny. And the film is beautifully and professionally animated with a clear and crisp look that contrasts sharply with the early days of the show.

The film's plot is basically a combination "Our government sucks, and the Simpsons are going to Alaska." Homer has the moment of family disownment and family reacceptance. Lisa has her environmental fight. Bart has his "I want my father to like me" stint. Marge has her "Stick by my man." attitude. (She has long been my favorite Simpson.) And the town? Well, it'll always be Springfield.

There are definite reasons for watching the movie, but I'd much more recommend it for a DVD-viewing experience. After all, as Homer says, why watch something for several bucks at a theater when the show is on for free on TV? Well, at least not all of the satire is gone.

Singin' in the Rain (1952)

Directed by Gene Kelly and Stanley Donen
Written by Adolph Green and Betty Comden

Rating: 7.75/10.00 or *** 1/2

Of all musicals ever made, this one is the most popular and the most revered. Gene Kelly, who stars in and co-directed this American classic, never reached a higher point in his career. Donald O'Connor also reached his high point here, playing Kelly's lovable sidekick. And Debbie Reynolds, who plays Kelly's love interest, begins to make the world take notice. All play with such ferocity and free spirit that their undeniable joy in making the film adds to the movie's thrill. Singin' in the Rain is the movies' anti-depressant, a film so innocent and so wonderfully good-spirited that even the most bitter and cynical of souls cannot help but smile. I dare anyone to watch this film and not have the film's song "Singin' in the Rain" in your head by the end of it. The film's main song, like the movie itself, is addictive and timeless.

Singin' in the Rain takes place in a time of great transition in the film industry. Production companies are beginning to add sound to film. Don Lockwood (Kelly) is nervous because his stature, along with female actress Lina Lamont (Jean Hagen), is threatened by this technological advancement. More troubling is the piercing voice of his acting counterpart, which has (of course) remained hidden to the public at large during the silent film era. Monumental Pictures, the production company that Lockwood and Lamont work for, thrusts them into their first "talkie", and the preliminary results are disastrous. A test screening is met with mocking laughter and a horrified distaste. Monumental Pictures is run by R.F. Campbell (Millard Mitchell), who is extremely disheartened by audience reaction to the new film (called The Dueling Cavaliers).

Lockwood begins to despair with his friend Cosmo (O'Connor) and his new love interest Kathy Selden (Reynolds). Together, they come up with an idea. Make the new film a musical and dub over Lina's horrid voice with Kathy's. This scene coincides with one of the film's more memorable sequences involving the song "Good Morning" where the three of them sing and dance together with the culmination the three of them stepping onto a couch with the couch falling on its back.

It is after this sequence that the film's most memorable musical number is presented. Lockwood begins to realize his growing love for Kathy and celebrates by dancing and singing in the streets with the rain falling. This absolutely unforgettable and impressive sequence is one of the most famous in the movies, with Kelly giving the scene such exquisite visual splendor and energy. He uses his umbrella to add to the scene's incredible mobility and presence. He dances with one foot in the street and one foot on the sidewalk, he splashes himself in a particularly deep puddle, he jumps onto light poles, and he sings the happiest of songs. It is a scene for the ages, one of pure joy and innocence. No musical will ever top this scene.

Lockwood and Cosmo present the idea to R.F., who loves it. They amusingly believe the movie would be more aptly titled The Dancing Cavaliers. Furthermore, they try to hide the fact that Lina's voice will be dubbed with Kathy's, but the plan backfires. Lina uses this to her advantage when the film hits screens with public approval. She blackmails R.F. into extending her contract using the voice of Kathy, whose acting career would be ruined as a result. She does this since she believes she is in a relationship with Lockwood because a tabloid told her so.

Greed soon overtakes Lina, however, during the film's premiere. She decides to start talking to the public and is soon trapped into singing for them. The four (including R.F.) decide to out Lina's horrific talent by having Kathy dub her singing behind the curtains. Then, with perfect timing, Donny, Cosmo, and R.F. raise the curtain to reveal the true talent. Kathy then runs off in sadness, but Donny asks the audience to stop her and to recognize the real talent behind the film.

This last sequence, while unforgettable, also adds on the cheese a bit too much for my taste. It is forgivable, however, given the movie's ultimate innocence. What is not so forgivable is the film's tone-killing, plot-stopping "single" called "Broadway Ballet". While Kelly craftily uses this sequence as a pitch to R.F. for one of the film's numbers, the scene clearly clashes with the rest of the film. This becomes a major annoyance given the piece's length, which approaches ten minutes.

But there is much more positive here than negative. Another masterful musical piece is "Make 'Em Laugh", with Donald O'Connor at the driver's seat in this one. In this unforgettable sequence, he uses his body almost like a car dummy. He hits himself, falls to the floor, crashes through a wall, does back flips using two more, and somehow he keeps singing. It is just as memorable as the "Singin' in the Rain" sequence and shows the combined talents of the film's leading men.

This is not to diminsh either Reynolds or Hagen, who both are a smash in their roles. Reynolds was 19 when the movie was filmed, but her inexperience does not show. She keeps up with everyone else with intensity. Hagen makes her character a comic stereotype, which required some acting gravitas given that Hagen's actual voice is not nearly so grating. She often provides the movie's comedy given the hilarious one-liners that make her look like the dimmest bulb in the tree. Her performance rightfully earned her an Oscar nomination.

Singin' in the Rain is simple but full of heart. The film is full of music, energy, and color. The performances are impressive and earnest. This is a musical for the ages, a film that will forever remain a favorite among classic movie-lovers everywhere. Singin' in the Rain is a timeless piece of genuine American cinema.

New York, New York (1977)

Directed by Martin Scorsese
Screenplay by Earl Mac Rauch and Mardik Martin
Story by Earl Mac Rauch

Rating: 6.75/10.00 or ***

The 1970s were a great decade for movies but not a great decade for musicals. Interest in the genre was waning, perhaps because of a changing national culture. After all, America had just endured the 60s. In a post-Vietnam era, films questioning our character, our heroes, and our society were becoming more and more popular while the optimistic musicals were dwindling. The 1970s musicals were somewhat tangent in tone, what many would label unconventional or inventive. New York, New York is one such musical with an even more surprising twist. It had the distinction of being helmed by Martin Scorsese and starred by Robert De Niro.

Scorsese's films that are not about the lives of gangsters or individuals who reach supremacy only to fall a most horrible fall tend to be forgotten. This is tragic, as some of his best films are not his typical forte. The Age of Innocence and After Hours come quickly to mind. New York, New York is a musical, definitely not Scorsese's typical film. It is also not one of Scorsese's better efforts.

Even Scorsese's worst films can be admired because of the zeal and ambition with which they are made. This is what makes Kundun watchable even though it is poorly developed. This is what makes The Color of Money acceptable even though it is hopelessly average. I always imagine a smile on Scorsese's face behind the cameras. He loves what he does, and this love is always visible in his finished product. There is genuine excitement in his work and an obvious devotion. I can't help but wonder if there is too much of it in this work as the film is clearly suffering from editing problems. And these editing problems are clearly a result of cutting many scenes away from the final product.

After watching New York, New York, which approaches three hours in length, I quickly researched how long the original product was. It was nearly four-and-a-half hours. That means that almost two hours of the film were cut. It shows.

The film suffers from disjointedness, vague explanations and plot developments, and lack of character development. Chemistry between De Niro and Liza Minnelli is not sufficiently strong (though admirable) due to these big chunks missing from the film.

De Niro plays Jimmy Doyle, a talented musician who tries to win over Francine Evans, a talented singer, at a V-J Day party in New York City. His tenacity and quirkiness somehow win Francine over. They join a band and travel the country, get married (for reasons past understanding), and soon Francine is pregnant. The interaction between the two is interesting. Doyle is egomaniacal and aggressive. There are shades of Travis Bickle and Jake La Motta in De Niro's performance, an eerie transition piece between his performances in those two masterpieces. His immaturity and impatience begin to break him as Francine's pregnancy has ultimate repercussions with the band they are in and Doyle's later work.

Meanwhile, Francine is on the rise and soon becomes a movie star after the birth of their son. It is particularly amusing to note when the two of them part ways. It occurs in the maternity ward just after Jimmy Doyle, Jr.'s birth. Their break-up is tinged with the quirky interaction the two of them are given throughout the film. Francine is so accepting of Jimmy's strange behavior that there is a weird sense of pity for both of them. It's almost as if the two deserve each other, even while their differences are clearly insurmountable. Scorsese often has this strange paradox in his movies, but never was it so obvious as in this film.

The last scene is maddeningly interesting. Jimmy shows up at one of Francine's shows and talks with her afterward. He then leaves her private room (full of guests Jimmy can't stand), but then he calls her to go eat Chinese food and talk. Francine agrees. Jimmy tells her to meet him by the exit stage door. She then goes to the door while Jimmy waits outside. But she stops at the elevator and doesn't see him, so she returns to the elevator and goes up. And Jimmy walks off.

Roger Ebert, in his review of the film, finds the scene somewhat unforgivable, as we aren't quite sure whether Francine purposely stops (snubbing Jimmy) or expects him to be at the door and is not there. While either scenario is possible (The notorious no-answer ending from the film The Color of Money quickly comes to mind.), I'm more convinced that the conclusion is symbolic. Maybe Francine stopped because without him, her life (at least her professional life) improved drastically. And Jimmy's clearly devolved, as he stares back down at his shoes, now completely black. At the beginning of the film, we first see an image of his shoes (not completely black) before he meets Francine. His life peaked when he was with Francine, and sadly, he is the very reason they are no longer together. And it is also interesting that Francine pushes the up button on the elevator. The two of them together met somewhere in the middle, but together and alone, both of them were not at the top at the same time.

I wonder, though, if this distinction even matters. In the grand scheme of things, it would certainly have been clearer if the whole film was more consistent and congealed.

It sounds as if I really don't like the film. I actually do like it. It goes back to Scorsese's zest for his work. He clearly loved making the film. The movie has several glorious musical numbers, which often coincided with entertaining character interactions. The sets, the costumes, and the colors were dazzling. The productions were pristine, sophisticated, and elaborate. And the performances were exceptional, especially from Minnelli, who is clearly at the top of her game in these works. While New York, New York is a deeply flawed film, it is hard not to smile at the attempt. There's one thing about love that cannot be outmatched. It's contagious.

To Have and Have Not (1944)

Directed by Howard Hawks
Written by Jules Furthman & William Faulkner
Based on the novel by Ernest Hemingway

Rating: 6.50/10.00 or ***

There are few scenes as memorable in the classic movie era as Lauren Bacall, as "Slim", leaving "Steve's" (Humphrey Bogart) room, with the great line: "You know you don't have to act with me, Steve. You don't have to say anything, and you don't have to do anything. Not a thing. Oh, maybe just whistle. You know how to whistle, don't you, Steve? You just put your lips together and... blow." What is much less memorable, however, is the movie this scene is in.

To Have and Have Not came to theaters about two years after Casablanca graced the screens. Casablanca's success led to many lesser re-hashes. This film is one of them. To Have and Have Not also has the distinction of being one of the more obvious attempts to obtain Casablanca's immortality. Unfortunately, the film does not even come close due to some obvious differences in style and substance.

First off, the dialogue is not nearly as crisp. While some one-liners are found throughout the film, they do not give the film a "sense of place". They seem more like inclusions rather than an artistic canvas or backdrop. This universe is filled with "normal-speak" more than the cynically musical dialogue in Casablanca. Also limited is the comedy found through such dialogue. Most of the comedy comes from "Steve's" sidekick Eddie, played by the great Walter Brennan. However, this comedy is more a result of character, as Eddie is a well-intentioned drunk whose loyalty to "Steve" (whose actual name is Harry Morgan) is eerily reminiscent of Louis's to Rick.

Secondly, the interaction between "Steve" and "Slim" is emphasized to the degree that the plot suffers from a lack of proper development. The film's plot is also somewhat similar to Casablanca's. The film is set in Martinique just after the Nazi invasion of Paris. Morgan is making a living on the island by taking civilians out to sea to fish for leisure or sport. Eddie is Morgan's sidekick who accompanies him on these outings. Marie Browning (Bacall) has recently arrived at the island after a mysterious past that has since rendered her broke and trapped on the island. She tries stealing a wallet from one of Morgan's clients, but Harry catches her. When Harry meets Marie, he soon realizes that his client was about to leave without repaying him. Their meeting is one for the motion picture history books and certainly worth a watch onscreen. The chemistry between Bogart and Bacall is significant and is easily the best part of the film. Fortunately, there is much screentime featuring the two of them together.

Unfortunately, the plot that carries the rest of the film is poorly developed. It basically involves Morgan, now in need for cash due to an unfortunate string of events involving his original client, transporting two French loyalists to the island. During the boat ride back to Martinique, a patrol boat spots them and shoots one of the passengers (Walter Monar). His wife (Dolores Moran), while doubting at first Morgan's aid, enlists in his help to heal her wounded husband. Morgan does so at great risk due to the looming threat of the Gestapo.

The film concludes with a loosely developed scheme for Morgan and Browning to leave the island (with Eddie). This occurs when the Gestapo enter the saloon (and later Morgan's apartment) with plans to take the French loyalists as prisoners. But Morgan and Browning work together to outwit the Gestapo officers, and they leave "happily ever after".

One of the major deficiencies in the plot is the lack of sacrifice involved, something which Casablanca depended on for its ultimate success. This is distinctly missing here and provides for a much less powerful ending. Another plot deficiency is the lack of connection between Browning's character and the plot involving the French loyalists. This disconnect is a result of Bacall's powerful screen presence and the resultant decision to make her a bigger part of the film. This decision, while certainly clever in the sense to take advantage of the sparkling chemistry between Bogart and Bacall, provides an unrecoverable lack of unity between their building relationship and Morgan's aid to the French loyalists.

This lack of connection is also true in terms of dialogue. When the scenes involve Bogart and Bacall, the words sizzle. But when scenes involve others, the dialogue seems placid and less energetic. To Have and Have Not has two films in it, one of which is underdeveloped and one of which is magnetic but somewhat unfocused.

There are a couple scenes that are especially memorable. The scenes with Bacall and the piano player named Cricket (Hoagy Carmichael) are laced with a nice emotional combination of sadness and confidence. The interaction between Morgan and Eddie is also endearing, especially as the film enters its last acts. But the scenes between Bogart and Bacall dominate.

To Have and Have Not marked the beginning of a romance between Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall. Their onscreen chemistry matched that off camera. Howard Hawks used this chemistry to make it the "front and center" of the film. But it was perhaps his eagerness to show the magic these two had that led to the downfall of everything around it in this film. While the scenes between Bogart and Bacall will live in eternity in film, the movie itself will forever remain a lesser counterpart to the masterstrokes found in Casablanca.