Guess Who's Coming To Dinner (Day 10)

At this point, there are currently about a dozen or so romance films being released each year. Most of them are comedies that follow an annoyingly similar formula – main characters meet by chance, wacky hijinks ensue (which you’ve likely seen in trailers), love develops, one character screws up and admits his folly (yeah, almost always the guy’s fault), they kiss, credits roll. But what about films that follow them after love is set in place? You get a film that is more serious, but likely more effective in what it can talk about issues beyond the romance itself.

DAY 10 – GUESS WHO’S COMING TO DINNER

It is always quite unusual to watch a film so directly tied to the problems of its own generation, one that we can barely imagine existing today. This is such a film, which depicts the events of one day in 1967 San Francisco. Joanna “Joey” Drayton (Katharine Houghton) is bringing home Dr. John Prentice (Sidney Poitier), and is ready to tell her parents that they are set to be married – and quite soon. John comes across as an almost frustratingly ideal candidate for marriage – incredibly accomplished and well-respected in the medical world, charming, well-reasoned and gentle (dammit, he sets a high bar) – but the most notable trait of his may be one outside his control. Namely, he’s black. Despite leading a very progressive newspaper and art gallery, respectively, Matt and Christina Drayton (Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn) find themselves put to the ultimate test of tolerance right in their own home.

You could find every reason in the world for these parents to oppose the sudden marriage, and this film slowly brings out details that would bother many even if skin color was not the issue. He’s 37 (and already in a terribly tragic marriage before), and she’s 23. They only met about a week and a half earlier, while she was on vacation in Hawaii. And, oh, might I add that due to professional duties on Dr. Prentice’s part, the parents are essentially given one day to ultimately decide whether they can approve the marriage with “no reservations”? Make no mistake: unlike in many romance-based films, the film never, ever questions whether Joey and John truly care about each other. They are deeply in love, and its positive depiction of an interracial relationship was remarkable groundbreaking for its time. But fittingly (and almost frustratingly), the practical questions gradually become minute in comparison to the giant multi-colored elephant in the room, even as the titular dinner becomes increasingly complicated – and life-changing – to the futures of everyone involved.

In all honesty, I cannot imagine a situation where the age, speed and genuine feelings in a relationship would be dwarfed by skin color…and I suppose that is a sign of how different things are now. But in the context of this film, it is a question every single character must ask. In 1967, interracial marriage was still illegal in a number of states and would surely warrant ridicule and social separation of some kind anywhere…and the families of both lovers are well-aware of this. Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn are the true main characters in this film, for although they are merely two of the parents, the questions they must consider most correspond with what the audiences of the time felt, and they are exemplary in their efforts. They fit the role they should and their onscreen chemistry (this being their ninth pairing) is downright tangible, with Hepburn showing graceful resolution in her belief that love is what is most important and Tracy gradually revealing a more frustrated personality that is all-too-aware of the cruelty other people are capable of. I will probably say it a million times over the course of this year, but for some reason – maybe because there was less rush to get to the next scene in films of the past – actors in previous generations do appear to get more immersed in their character’s lives and emotions. And because they believe in it, so does the audience.

In fact, everyone comes across as believable, as decent people who want to do the right thing but are not sure how to do so in conjunction with the slow rate of social growth in mainstream society. The younger generation already feels prepared to take the next steps forward, to the point where one can identify himself as just “a man” instead of as “a colored man”. Poitier and Houghton are refreshingly forthright in this regard, with Houghton showing the resolute certainty in the future that heartfelt love produces at a young age and Poitier displaying the idealistic charm and yearning of a man simply longing to fall in that state once again. They present racism as a flawed mentality that is not permanent, something that feels like it will be around forever but is already in the process of fading away with the previous generation. And to the film’s noteworthy credit, through the critiques of the Drayton’s black house cook Tillie (Isabel Sanford) and John’s parents, they present racial bias as something that needs to be overcome on both sides of the aisle.

Maybe this review is a little shorter because, frankly, my assessment of the film should match how straightforward the film itself can be. Director Stanley Kramer and his cast must have truly felt a collective desire to tackle such a controversial topic, and in a way that said “Screw you!” to those willing to hide away from or condemn those standing against it. This is most poignantly emphasized in the final scene, which actually contained the final speech of Spencer Tracy’s illustrious career (he would die barely two weeks later, and they all knew he was dying at the time) and one where the tears of everyone in the room were real. And thus it moved audiences as well. Personally, I may have some issues with how sometimes the fixation on race relations feels a little…well, forced in occasional scenes. But considering the social context of the time, it was probably necessary and only feels dated now because it did its job then. And on top of its powerful message, fantastic acting and wonderfully subtle camerawork by Kramer, such passion by everyone involved makes it feel like a film you want to finish, with characters you want to see grow and eventually live happily…if not perfectly…ever after.

Score: 9/10 

(must-see for anyone sick of romantic comedies, Kutcher or Aniston)

TOMORROW (DAY 11): THE DAY THE EARTH STOOD STILL (ORIGINAL)

Gladiator (Day 9)

About midday yesterday, it was suggested by my father that I take a look at the most recent Dan Brown novel, “The Lost Symbol”. There is a symbol of world-changing importance lost, Robert Langdon must find it, you get the basic formula for his stories. I never read his previous books as a whole and was honestly skeptical when I began reading…I ended up putting it down after reading to the last page, following 16 straight hours of my eyes glued to the text. Why am I telling you this? I guess it sometimes takes a while for someone's work to pull you in; the same could be said for this film.

DAY 9 – GLADIATOR

In all honesty, I have heard some combination of three common replies when asking people about this film: “I have not watched that film in ages”, “I think I remember a few action scenes” and “Eh, I recall it being okay”. So it shocked me when I learned that this film was actually a juggernaut in 2000, scoring a Best Picture Oscar (along with 4 other wins and 7 other nominations….unreal) and a plethora of praise by critic and fan alike. Why the discrepancy? Now normally, it would help to give a basic summary of the plot and then my overall impressions. But that may not work as well here, seeing as my opinions changed as the film progressed. Bear with me on this.

We are given a basic summary, in both text and action, of the state of the glorious Roman Empire. It is the late 2nd century, and the reach of Emperor Marcus Aurelius would even make Leonidas and all of Sparta uneasy if opposed to it. One battle of resistance in the Germanic barbarian region is all that remains for peace on every frontier, and General Maximus Decimus Meridius (Russell Crowe, at his rugged best) is at the forefront of their triumph. Unrivaled in his combat abilities and the ability to lead with integrity, he is beloved by his soldiers and (as we learn) the Emperor as well. This presents a conflict when Aurelius, in his aged state, presents his intentions to pass the throne to Maximus instead of his biological son Commodus (Joaquin Phoenix, much more charismatic when clean-shaven) – a decision Maximus is not too thrilled about, preferring to return for home to dote on his wife and young son. I am hoping that it does not give too much away, but let’s just say that it never ends well when a brooding character sees longed-for power slip through his hands.

(Insert rant, starting now. Vague spoilers, beware.) And for that matter, for an aging Emperor that has led a massive expense of the Empire, you would think Aurelius would be prepared for betrayal of some kind. Why not write a letter with his intentions just in case something goes wrong, if you are not going to have at the very least, what is he thinking when he attempts to console (to someone losing their sense of self-worth, for that matter) by basically “It’s not your fault you suck, it’s mine”?! Seriously? Give this guy a lecture on letting someone down easy! (End rant.)

Long story short, the way Aurelius is presented reveals a great deal about where Ridley Scott’s strengths and flaws as a director stick out. He is a near-unparalleled genius at battle and action sequences, immersing yourself in a way that gets your adrenaline pumping. That being said, especially in this film, some of the more dialogue-centered scenes feel a bit stiff and sometimes results in characters that feel tacked on for the sake of moving the plot forward. But as the power struggle ensues, and Aurelius’ vision of a return to republican government gets choked away, Phoenix and Crowe exhibit enough intensity and raw emotion to keep you interested in how events unfold. And when one of them makes a no-return choice and the other faces devastating losses for it (and they hold nothing back in revealing this, thank God), the action picks up and the film accelerates into overdrive.

From that point on, it becomes a raw revenge movie for Maximus even as he is captured and put into the slave trade (to fight as a gladiator dubbed “The Spaniard”, for public entertainment), channeling his inner pain into a tangible way to destroy the life that irreparably damaged his. Thankfully, once action is ingrained, it makes the characters introduced more compelling too. Oliver Reed, as Maximus’ buyer Proximo, magnificently fills the role of an aged warrior whose passion for the fighting in arenas is infectious; and since he died during the production of this film, what a way to show your magnetism on the screen to the end. A fellow gladiator named Juba (Djimon Hounsou) becomes his closest ally, and his natural charm serves well to develop the emotional dimension (e.g. regarding the afterlife) of Maximus’ progress. And Commodus’ sister Lucilla (Connie Neilsen), a former lover of Maximus, shows great strength and almost masculine poise in how she responds to the political chaos around her (which, admittedly, did sometimes feel a bit like “breathing scenes”, to give audience a chance to settle down between different battles), which helps us see how Maximus’ battle is somehow keeping hope for Aurelius’ vision alive.

So in essence, the incredibly brutal action scenes, authentic atmosphere and set design (at times, near-impossible to tell it is not really ancient Rome we’re seeing), and (mostly) compelling performances compensate for the occasional dry dialogue and excessively sharp separation of action and discussion. But…there must be a reason why Gladiator resonated more deeply than most other period pieces, and I may have an idea about it. What is sort of interesting to me, in the process of seeing Maximus claw and slash his way to his final destination, is how closely the gladiator scenes resemble our enjoyment of team sports today. Much like in ancient Rome, we idolize those willing to put themselves into such danger….but would usually prefer to see it from the stands. We do tend to be fickle about who we support and who we condemn as unworthy…but almost always, we will support those who deliver results in their competitions. And, sadly, even though we know the horrible toll such events take on “fighters” then and now, we still embrace it because it makes us experience life in its most intense manifestation….because it makes them feel alive too.

My apologies if this seems a bit too long-winded, because it is not intended to be. More than anything, just know that Gladiator is a film that effectively presents violence in a way that does not feel pretentious or slipped in for shock value (and there is a great deal of it, make no mistake). Ridley Scott does a great job of putting audiences in the moment, in a realistic manner that helps us sympathize with the plight of Maximus like we would for any well-told news story of a broken warrior, an aspiring athlete striving to be great again. Despite the slightly predictable storyline and the occasional faulty line or character, what I expected to be a glorified B-movie turned out to be much deeper and more personally relevant experience than I anticipated. Hopefully, the upcoming Super Bowl will be equally compelling – but don’t count on it if the Bears beat the Packers this weekend.

Score:

So I guess my thumb, in judgment, is pointing up

TOMORROW (DAY 10): GUESS WHO’S COMING TO DINNER

Crash (Day 7, in dedication to Dr. King)

Over the course of this year, there will be moments when my reviews take longer because of personal matters and outside efforts. But at other times, it will be because of what the film I am attempting to examine entails. This one, in particular, is one that I vaguely remembered seeing before and somehow felt uneasy about seeing again. Within 10 minutes of starting this film, I remembered why. It took me three days to get myself to watch this, another two to write this review, and I am still not sure what to say. But keeping Dr. King in mind…well, to say they “crashed” into me is a cheesy pun at best, but the description fits well. Here goes…

DAY 7: CRASH

In all honesty, the best way I can attempt to describe this film is to say that it could also be titled “Racism Actually”. It follows about 8-10 storylines in post-9/11 Los Angeles (depending on how you count) over the course of 36 hours, taking an outside approach to help watchers learn how their lives merged and clashed in a way that eventually led to murder. You get a surprising diversity in situations laid out here, ranging from a District Attorney and his abrasive wife getting carjacked (Brendan Fraser and Sandra Bullock) to a rookie cop struggling with his partner’s discriminatory behavior (Ryan Phillipe and Matt Dillon) to a Buddhist African-American television director dealing with the clash between the discrimination he faces and the beliefs that dictate his response to it (Larenz Tate and Chris “Ludacris” Bridges…yes, the rapper). Stereotypes and stereotype-seeking attitudes are present in every scene of this film, demonstrating in quite a loud fashion how their tendency to group other people interferes with their everyday lives – and why they are so hesitant in their attempts to confront it.

Even with a fine-toothed comb, I really cannot pick out a bad performance that was in this film. Everyone does the job the script asks of them, for better or for worse, and they do deliver anytime a particular scene demands a particularly potent emotion from them. We get angry, we get defensive, and we sure as hell hate being told our subjective worldviews are tainted – or our backgrounds “cookie-cutter” in terms of their racial, sexual, or ethnic elements. So if the actors’ reactions to these emotional events greatly favored subtlety, maybe it would have been more realistic…but it probably would not get the point across as effectively to the audience. Their outer expressions match our inner ones, a fitting mirror to our ideological confusions. In addition, the way this film was edited and shot perfectly fits the tone of the movie, almost as if director Paul Haggis had a painting previously sketched out for the amount of light and darkness he wanted in every new reflection of the City of Angels. To say it consistently helps establish and maintain the proper mood, in terms of highlighting the screenplay's clever twists and turns, is a major, major understatement.

That being said, there are two major problems that really do hinder this film's impact in my eyes – which, like the film’s plotlines, are completely intertwined. The first one involves the length of the film, 112 minutes including the credit crawl. At the very, very minimum, there are at least eight different mini-tales we are being exposed to. That gives us, at most, about 15 minutes with each distinct set of characters – maybe notch it up to about 20-25 if you account for the characters overlapping onscreen. What this means is that you barely have enough time to establish each individual, display their racist tendencies, and briefly give an alternate explanation for why they are that way. Usually it is along the lines of either “painful event with family” or “inner character flaw”, but it does not always make the characters feel complex enough to seem fully…well, human. At the very least, some of them seem two-dimensional, merely distinct in the “here’s racist one, here’s racist two” sort of way. It would not come across this way to me if the characters’ collective nuances were more subtle; but by necessity to the script’s intentions (problem number 2, by the way), the way they are initially presented is very extreme. They scream racial slurs to others’ faces, they openly express skepticism towards the idea of racial coexistence, you get the idea. So when you finally start to see a little more depth to them, you aren’t given enough time to dive too deeply; and thus, the shift in tone towards the end of the film (from characters being unlikeable to sympathetic) feels rushed and unnatural.

So does this feel like a Best Picture Oscar film to me? Well...in terms of execution, not really - even though it is still a very good film. But in the end, it would be cheap for me to say that these flaws are why I did not want to watch this film. Admittedly, I did not want to be confronted by the message this film DOES manage to deliver. In our current technologically-speared world, with communication and exposure to other views at an all-time high, you would expect differences to feel smaller in importance. But they don’t…if anything, as we are increasingly aware of how tiny our individual views are, in comparison with how many ways of thinking exist, it makes us desperate to cling to those we can identify with…

Maybe a personal story could help make my point more understandable, one that involves my freshman year in college back in 2006. Every time a new set of freshmen (and freshwomen) arrives at Union College, every extracurricular organization does what they can to encourage them to join their efforts. Coming from a Catholic upbringing and high school, I was eager to check out the Vatican-heeding collective and what they had to offer. They came across as very friendly and at first, I could identify with them. But in the room, there were several tables covered in sign-ups sheets – for everything from politics to abortion to preparation for Lent later in the year. And all I could think was, “Why does me following Christ as a Catholic need to entail all these man-made views too? I thought faith was the important thing. Is my “Catholic” the same as theirs?” I ended up leaving the info session, and decided that day I could not be a Catholic anymore…and it is an inner conflict I still feel today, and one that made me wonder at times if it might just be easier to live what I was raised on.

But you know something? The turning point was when I was told (by a Hindu, no less) that one key to inner peace is “realizing it is an individual journey”. I did not understand the statement at the time. After a while, as humbling as it is for me, I think I am starting to grasp its meaning, and in turn, what Crash is focused on saying. At a certain point, as a necessary part of maturing, we each are forced to learn that nobody can have the exact same views or background as us, no matter where we come from – and at that point, stereotypes that others use can really hurt, because we are uncertain enough already in our stumbling efforts. But maybe part of finding that peace can come from remembering that everybody goes through that process. We all have inner pains, we all feel like others may have it easier at times, and we all have been tempted to attack the world around us in response to feeling attacked by life. And hey, it may seem easier to use a characteristic like race or ethnicity (for others and maybe even for ourselves) as a shield in those weaker moments, against anything different or unfamiliar. But let’s face it: we just can’t do that anymore, not in today’s age of instanteaneous exposure and informational overload, and trying to do so will just lead to more collisions like the ones that bookend this film.

What makes me grateful for Dr. King and his work is that he made it feel possible that the shields could be put down, that our global society could learn to make common traits our chief focus and our different characteristics only secondary – something to be celebrated in pursuit of a larger worldwide path. I may not be “Catholic” in my journey anymore, but I warmly welcome anyone Catholic, white, black, gay, white, bisexual, trisexual…well, anyone in general to join me. It may not be perfect, but if you welcome me as I am (and as I am becoming) too, maybe a few negative collisions can be averted that way.

Score:

TOMORROW (DAY 8): SHERLOCK HOLMES, 1922 VERSION

Apocalypse Now, featuring a mini-review of Dear Zachary (Day 6)

If you want to call me a semi-hippie, that is fine; but in all honesty, diving into dark stories (especially war-related ones) is not exactly my forte. If a fire hydrant shot out water on a street corner, you might notice me running underneath like it was a sprinkler on metal-enhancing steroids…whereas makers of a film like Apocalypse Now might wonder how to hone its water as splash-laden projectiles. Put simply, I am a bit out of my element here, which is largely why this film took me so long to view and understand. But with the help of a certain documentary, one that I absolutely feel compelled to recommend, maybe a semi-cohesive analysis can be produced.

DAY 6: APOCALYPSE NOW (including a mini-review for “DEAR ZACHARY”)

Where to begin with what this film delivers? Well, the protagonist in the film was eager to cut the BS and learn his mission at the beginning, so let’s follow suit. This is actually one of the most creative adaptations of a novel I have ever seen, modernizing Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness and reworking it to suit the Vietnam War circa 1970. Immediately we are introduced to Capt. Benjamin Willard (Martin Sheen), a special operations officer who is considerably seasoned and highly effective in his line of work…and for likely that same reason, struggled to return to normal Stateside life. So in a return to duty in Saigon, he is assigned a mission that does not exist, to take out a believed-to-be-rogue Special Forces officer in the Cambodian jungle named Colonel Walter Kurtz (Marlon Brando). Why Kurtz is to be killed with “extreme prejudice”, considering his successes and decorated background, Willard is not sure, but he takes the job anyway.

Carried by the Navy Patrol boat identified as “Erebus”, a.k.a. “PBR Street Gang” on radio, Willard meets a variety of characters who respond to the war differently. Some soldiers come across as figures you normally would not expect to be war-hungry (such as famed surfer Lance Johnson, played by Sam Bottoms), some still come across as childlike (Tyrone “Mr. Clean” Miller, played by Laurence Fishburne in a way that comes across as “Morpheus before he found his swagger”), and a few who simply forget why they came to fight at all. Every effort to develop a connection to their homeland, from riding waves to Playboy Bunnies, seems hollow and makes the soldiers begin to feel the same way. Eventually, Willard is increasingly filled with the desire to encounter Kurtz as he learns more about him. The script really works well in gradually (through Sheen’s narration) letting the audience learn more about Kurtz’s history…even as Willard start to feel a connection to him, while peppering in enough grittiness and brutality to leave audiences battle-shocked for weeks. And that is before the final hour inside Cambodia, which pulls no punches and would absolutely not pass Hollywood censors today without an R rating or higher. The less I say about how Willard and Kurtz eventually meet, the better; but I can tell those of you who read Conrad’s book that this adaptation stays true to the original text.

Since I want to focus more on the bigger message (and why I have a second film mentioned here), let’s just get the simple weaknesses and strengths of the film out of the way first. In all honesty, I sometimes found the behavior of the ensemble cast a little “hammy”, as if they were trying to express their emotional states in such an extreme environment by merely amplifying their characters’ normal personalities. While I have been told this was normal in older war films, it is not very realistic (based on what I have been told by family in the military) and it threw me out a couple otherwise-great scenes. Also, I have never been in a combat setting like Vietnam, but…there seemed to be a huge lack of communication and discipline that was almost universal among the soldiers. Sometimes it seemed like Sheen was the only military-minded character on screen….was that a normal by-product of that war? I’d expect a couple soldiers or leaders to be lax or mentally unstable, but this was ridiculous.

But thank Heavens, the three most important elements were near-perfect. First off, the two main characters in this film were fantastic in their roles. Martin Sheen recalls a bygone era of true acting, where a performer believed he (or she) could use body language and subtlety to say just as much when not saying a word. His tone and mannerisms seem like a great representation of a soldier who hates war but can no longer function anywhere else, and any talent or charisma his sons picked up was largely hereditary. Marlon Brando, meanwhile, proves as General Kurtz that he can play subdued as well as imposing, while also demonstrating that you don’t need much time on screen to steal the spotlight. Meanwhile, in terms of both scenery and combat displayed, director Francis Ford Coppola did everything he could to help audiences comprehend and eventually despise what war is really about. Light and shadow are used brilliantly and consistently throughout the film, reflecting what changes Kurtz has undergone and what Willard is tempted to fall into; and anytime you can create a scene featuring severed heads and it doesn’t feel like overkill, you know a sense of brutality has been well-delivered.

And now, the big picture…oh boy…in all honesty, it was really hard for me to figure out what this film was trying to say as I was watching it. Did it involve the hypocrisy of the US calling natives “savage”, even as Lt. Col. “Napalm in the Morning” Kilgore (Robert Duvall, very deep impact for only having 15-20 minutes on screen) coordinated a brutal bombing of a village…for the sake of the surfing waves there? Maybe a little, but its message seemed to be deeper than that. Was it about the potential for savagery lying dormant inside of every man, or the implications of going home either with death or victory? Again, this is pretty clear in the battle scenes even before we get to Kurtz. The mysterious Colonel has to be the key to this, since the film build up to his being revealed…so maybe it is involves the “diamond-bullet” moment that Kurtz claims affected his perception of the way the Vietnam War was working. This is where the film Dear Zachary comes into play; bear with me for one minute.

Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son about his Father involves director Kurt Kuenne’s effort to eulogize his deceased best friend Andrew Bagby, by travelling around the country (actually, across several countries) to talk with friends and gather photos and video that can paint a full picture of the wonderful life he lived. The reasons for this become apparent in the film, and I would be a disgrace as a critic if I gave away anything beyond what is revealed in the title. (It is on instant Netflix now; please see it whenever you can and DO NOT read any spoilers or summaries of the film. Trust me.) What I can say is that it is impeccably ruthless in how straightforward and raw its depiction of humanity is. Just as Apocalypse Now emphasizes the idea that good does not always prevail inside a man, Dear Zachary shows that it does not always prevail in how society chooses to act…even with the highest stakes.

I guess my point is that, for me, Apocalypse presents a notion that seems almost contradictory at first: if humans approached war without a sense of humanity or moral judgment, then they would get through wars much more quickly. Under this reasoning, it may seem very tempting to focus more on results than how your character may be perceived, on ensuring success instead of risking failure. But the price of choosing such a road is that morality no longer serves as your compass, only survival. Thus, when exposed to true evil and immorality, Apocalypse and Zachary leave audiences with a choice of their own. I won’t say which people in which film choose which path, but I will say that if you have 4 hours, this is a life-affirming double feature that I encourage every reader to undertake (see Apocalypse Now first). But then again, whether you accept my humble opinion is a decision to make as well.

Score for Apocalypse Now:

Score for Dear Zachary:

TOMORROW (DAY 7): CRASH

My Cousin Vinny (Day 5)

The next film is a comedy all about how accidental encounters, simple misunderstandings and tear-your hair-out coincidences can build up in the worst possible way. You know, like wanting to catch up on blog posts on the same weekend that a 7-9 team defeats the defending Super Bowl champs and the local Jets team defeats Manning in a revenge game as time expires. Yeah, NFL football is huge in my family, requiring a Farmville-like level of attention in order to not look utterly ignorant…And admittedly, being from a true Italian family, there were other convenient reasons for the delay in the next post.

DAY 5: MY COUSIN VINNY

To be quite frank, I am not sure how to review this film. Part of it is that I am embarrassed by how similar watching this film was to my encounter with Shawshank, in that I refused to watch it for a long time (You know where a bunch of people are a fan of something and you naturally feel compelled to be suspicious…e.g. snootily skeptical…about its worth in a begrudging-hipster sort of way? Anyone who has ever read Armond White knows exactly what I am talking about.), only for it to end up as one of my favorite films once I got (as my uncle would put it) my figurative head out of my ass and gave it a chance. And the other factor? Well…let’s just say that my family exhibits a great deal of the Italian-American macho mannerisms exhibited by Vinny and Company (I will get to that later), and as I try to write this, I find myself subconsciously comparing my family’s behavior to the film itself. In other words, on a personal level, it’s an awkward story for me to analyze (and if I give anything other than universal praise, I’ll never hear the end of it). None of this should be counted as a detriment to the film.

OK, enough rambling, here is the plot in vague tones, since a huge amount of the humor involves how the main characters get from Point A to Point B. Two New Yorkers, Stan Rothenstein (Mitchell Whitfield) and Bill Gambini (Ralph Macchio, who between this and Karate Kid, built a career out of playing the hapless victim of life’s misfortunes), decide to drive to UCLA for their next term of college and pass through Beechum County, Alabama. By chance, bad timing puts them in a seriously bad spot, when they grab food at a local convenience store and end up leaving with an arrest for murder. Unlike Shawshank, I am not spoiling anything in saying that the audience knows their innocence from the start; the fun is seeing how they are able to get out of such a situation. With the defense that “he’s family” (which, realistically, seems like a bit of a stretch), Bill decides that his cousin Vinny (Joe Pesci) could be their defense lawyer. So with his lovely-but-spunky fiancée Mona Lisa Vito (Marisa Tomei), Vinny comes down and…proceeds to screw up at every possible turn, completely unfamiliar with the Southern customs and anti-“big mouth” mannerisms necessary for Alabama court room etiquette (this…is a bit more likely). The fact that it is seen as even remotely possible (e.g. realistic in any sense) that Vinny could win the case by movie’s end is a miracle in screenwriting lore. Which you will hopefully notice between the repeated pain of your ribs from laughing so hard.

With this being said, two questions must be asked of this film in particular: Does the audience learn how much of a culture shock a New Yorker would face coming down there, and do the characters (on both ends) handle such awkwardness in a manner that makes this comedy serve its original purpose – namely, to laugh at its absurdity? On both counts, the verdict is a yes. At every turn between the checkpoints of the trial itself, the local population and environment are effectively used to show how out of his element Vinny is. Sometimes it only takes one time for a joke to hit home (Anyone want grits after this? Anyone at all? …I thought not.), and other times a joke is recycled several times over the course of the film (the arc regarding being able to sleep is actually quite well-delivered). But to writer Dale Launer’s credit, most of these little scenes play a big role in how the case unfolds and they almost always catches you off-guard. And especially in the courtroom, director Jonathan Lynn does a pretty good job (most of the time) in shooting said scenes in a way that lets us focus on what is being argued and not how it’s being shot. In other words, Michael Bay would NEVER be able to pull this off.

Their collective jobs here, however, are to bring out the best in the actors, because for all its pratfalls and fantastic dialogue, the bulk of the film hinges on how their respective characters come across…thank God Italians are not shamed. Despite the fact that Joe Pesci has played wanna-piece-of-me confronters like Vinny roughly, say, 573 times in his career, it is nice to see him gradually come to the realization that such an attitude alone will not help him here. In the couple scenes where he shows a little macho-laced vulnerability and (justifiably felt) insecurity, it works…eh, pretty well, which only makes his in-your-face moments in court all the more enjoyable. This added dimension is largely sparked by the presence of Marisa Tomei, who hits her role – as the fiancée who is subtly sweet and supportive, but openly won’t take any “horsepucky” – out of the ballpark. The chemistry between the two is thick as marinara sauce, and it really feel like the two enjoy bringing the best out of each other…which, by the way, is exactly why I do not mind her winning an Oscar for this film. And for those of you who think this sort of attitude would never work in a courtroom or family setting? I have experienced these sorts of “Italian time bomb” personalities all my life, and…yeah, they’re accurate.

In all honesty, I am not the sort who ever developed the same sort of New Yorker mannerisms that my family did, so I can perfectly understand if a film chock full of ‘em may turn some people off. And as for some of the legal inconsistencies in the film…I’ll refrain from comment. (All I will say is that in order to avoid mistrials, countersuits and terrible press in this day and age, no suspect would ever, ever, EVER be as poorly informed as the unlucky college students are in this situation, and it throws you out of the film a little.) But what’s a little exaggeration in a film like this anyway? I suppose it helps that those playing the Alabama locals, in particular the stern-but-fair Judge Chamberlain Haller (Fred Gwynne, who I mistook for a real Southern judge at times), hold their own and don’t come across as backwoods pushovers. And regarding the film as a whole, it’s got a bunch of memorable quotes, the originality of the script shines through, and…well, in all honesty, when I first saw Vinny handle this case on DVD, I rewatched the last 15 minutes three times in a row. I guess as the audience “jury”, he swayed me.

Score:

TOMORROW (DAY 6): APOCALYPSE NOW