Welcome to issue number four of this now-rather-intermittent newsletter, with a bit of a surprise; namely, someone else besides me is actually writing for this thing! The review of "Leaving Las Vegas" was done by guest writer Ray Toy. (Now I can say I'm the "writer/editor," which sounds so much better than "narcissistic sole writer and producer.") Before we begin, I also want to thank Michelle Martin for her research help on MST3K. So, now that that maudlin brouhaha is over...

MR. WRONG: Ellen DeGeneres, in (what I think is) her big screen debut, plays a lonely single woman who finally meets the man of her dreams--then makes the mistake of telling him he should be himself, a fatal mistake, since his real self turns out to be one of the most unbearable nutcases who ever lived. After seeing Ellen's TV show, I came to the conclusion that she was basically the female David Letterman: really funny in a kind of deadpan, ironic, I'm-too-cool-to-even-worry-about-you-thinking-I'm-not-funny way. This movie did nothing to change that conclusion. None other than Bill Pullman is cast--totally against type, I might add--as the beer-stealing, smothering Mama's boy that is the title character; he dives into the role and, astonishingly, it works. For all this, I still found myself thinking "God, I wish this thing would end!" about an hour or so into the story. From whence did this escapist thought come? My best guess: from the fact that the story, ostensibly a comedy, just isn't very funny. Let's face it; a woman being stalked by an unbearable boor is just not a scenario that lends itself to lots and lots of laughter. Consequently, the laughs are few, and they come largely on the strength of the two stars' Herculean efforts. With a situation this challenging, a great film would create a kind of comic-nightmare feeling, confounding your expectations; alas, the filmmakers just couldn't make it happen. It isn't the fault of Ellen and Bill, though; they really should do another movie together, hopefully with better results this time. (One other note: Ellen's character is charmed with what may be some of the worst poetry I have ever experienced in my entire life--it should have given her a clue!)

MR. HOLLAND'S OPUS: Richard Dreyfuss is the title character, a young jazz composer who is forced to give up that career and take up teaching music at a public high school to support his new family. He is unenthusiastic about his new job, he sometimes loses patience, and he has a habit of saying off-the-cuff things that hurt the feelings of others, including his wife--but he is capable of putting his soul into his art, and his work, when challenged to do so. In short, he's a real person, and that is what makes him and nearly everyone else in the film so engrossing. With perhaps one or two exceptions, even minor characters are fleshed-out, convincing, and never entirely sympathetic or unsympathetic. Glenne Headly, who I don't see nearly often enough, does an exemplary job as Dreyfuss' solid, likable wife, and Olympia Dukakis is worth a mention as a principal who is both irritating and inspiring. (Why don't these people get more lead roles?) There's only one blemish, but it's a rather large one: there are several infuriating historical montages that are supposed to tell us the decade the story has reached, all of which are boring, obvious, and totally unnecessary. (It would have been quicker, and just as subtle, to have Dreyfuss drop character and hold up a huge sign saying "IT IS NOW 1980! GOT THAT? 1980!") There are some really good montages of Dreyfuss' character doing summer driver's ed classes to earn extra money, which provide comic relief and would have made much better bridges between sections. (As a side note, some of you may know that one of the main characters is Deaf. The filmmakers did an excellent research job for this aspect of the plot, and obviously learned a good deal about the Deaf community, for which they certainly deserve additional kudos.)

LEAVING LAS VEGAS: The Oscars have come and gone, and Leaving Las Vegas was not in the running for best picture. Too bad. This film is a wonderful piece. I went in knowing the basic plot and knowing the inevitable tragedy. Yet, I was compelled to watch. Here was a story of two people who, in real life, I would avoid like the plague, but I found myself desperately wanting to like them. Nicholas Cage plays an alcoholic whose stated goal is to drink himself to death. He is foul-mouthed, prone to violence, a manipulator, irresponsible, and consumed by his death wish. I could almost smell his stench in the theatre.

Elizabeth Shue plays a Las Vegas prostitute. The makeup artist deserves high praise, because Shue's amazing beauty has been "dirtied" so that it is absolutely believable that she makes her living on her back. There is no glamour here; the humiliation that is at the root of prostitution comes through in full force.

To say that this movie is a story of unconditional love is to state a meaningless truism, as if to say "this movie is about unconditional love...and all living people breathe." What I found spellbinding was the way that this movie closed off every possible reason to like these people. In the end, the only possible reason why I would want to like these people was their love for each other. No other explanation was possible.

As I make the highest recommendation possible for this film, I must urge caution. This movie is not for the faint-hearted. It is dirty, it is raw, and it is disturbing. At the same time, it is thoughtful. And perhaps because I was starting to care for the characters, maybe, just maybe, there was hope. (Editor's note: In case you were wondering, the movie has nothing to do with the Sheryl Crow song of the same name, although both share a sense of desolate yet poetic resignation.)

MYSTERY SCIENCE THEATRE 3000, THE MOVIE: If you're like me, you're already a fan of the long-running Mystery Science Theatre 3000 series on Comedy Central. If you're not like me, here's what I'm talking about: A mad scientist with a seemingly perpetual bad-hair day (played by Trace Beaulieu, one of the show's two creators) has trapped an innocent Earthling (Joel Hodgson, the show's other creator) in an orbital satellite with Joel's two trusty robot friends, Crow and Tom Servo (played by assemblages including parts of bowling pins and a gumball machine, respectively). As part of his insane plot to conquer the Earth, the scientist experiments on Joel, Crow, and Tom by forcing them to endure an endless series of bad science fiction movies and teenage melodramas; the only way they can cope is by making (hilarious) running commentary, jokes, and comments on popular culture as they watch. (In a typical MST3K jibe, the satellite is called the "Satellite of Love.") In this, the characters' big screen debut, they are subjected to This Island Earth, a riotously bad 1950's aliens-with-big-foreheads-are-coming movie, and endless laughter results. Devotees will love it, of course; if you're totally new to the show, however, this is not really a much better introduction than just watching it on TV.

(If you do see it, though, be sure to keep watching during the credits.)

WINTER LIGHT (SWEDISH): This, I must confess, is the only Ingmar Bergman film I have ever seen; it's a pretty good place to start, though. The subject is harsh and complicated by its very nature: we are present on the exact afternoon that an alienated, widowed small-town minister (played astonishingly well by Gunnar Bjornstrand) discovers that his faith in God is gone and will not be easily restored. The magic of Bergman's technique (and that of his equally legendary cinematographer, Sven Nykvist) is that it is almost perfectly allied to his story. The stark silences of the soundtrack (there is not a note of music in the entire film from start to finish) and the bleakness of the Scandinavian landscape tell us volumes about the characters' cynicism and despair, without any of the characters having to speak a word. The next few sentences may seem incongruous to people actually reading this review, but they were put in to make it a little harder for students to steal my review and use it in a term paper.  Teachers, if you are reading this sentence, this review was plagarized from a writer named Tony Porco, and the student is so stupid that he or she didn't even bother to read my review after copying and pasting it, see these sentences in the middle, and delete them.  The real review begins with the next sentence, starting with "Bergman."  Bergman is also willing to take unimaginable chances; Ingrid Thulin, playing a young teacher in love with the minister, delivers a three-minute monologue directly into the camera, in one of the film's most moving moments. (Woody Allen, who makes a joke of borrowing freely from the likes of Bergman, Eisenstein, and Fellini, based a mesmerizing sequence in his own Stardust Memories on Thulin's tour-de-force.) I recommend this one strongly, if you can find it, with the caveat that it's rather depressing. (If you rent both this and Leaving Las Vegas the same weekend, I would recommend saving one of them for the next night.)

MEAN STREETS: Harvey Keitel is Charlie, a young man from New York's Little Italy being groomed to take over the family business. Moody and introspective, he is poorly suited for both that business (a local chapter of the Mafia) and for the pettier hooliganism of the friends who grew up in the neighborhood with him. Robert De Niro is Johnny Boy, Charlie's best friend and a man utterly unburdened by any notion of moodiness or introspection. My suggestion: don't bother figuring out which one is the better actor--instead, just watch as their complicated relationship makes this one of the most engrossing films you have ever had the luck to see. Once again, as with other films I have seen recently (such as Winter Light, reviewed above, and Babette's Feast), the film technique is perfectly allied with the story. Director Martin Scorsese's characters are edgy and unsettled--and so are you, by the end of the film, thanks to his command of sound, light, camera, and even music. Taxi Driver is more famous, but this earlier project is both more accessible and (surprisingly) better. (As an aside, anyone who likes Spike Lee should make a special point of seeing this movie; as Spike himself has acknowledged, this work by another NYU film student was a major influence, particularly on Jungle Fever and Do the Right Thing.)

THE TRUTH ABOUT CATS AND DOGS: This one's basically a Generation X version of Cyrano De Bergerac (already updated well by Steve Martin in Roxanne). Janeane Garofalo is the host of LA's hit radio talk show on pet care; like most such shows, it is entertaining because of her cynicism and caustic wit. When an admirer comes to the station to see her (a young British photographer, played by Ben Chaplin), she's smitten, but so neurotic about her less-than-Cindy-Crawford looks that she gets her model friend (Uma Thurman) to stand in for her. Implausibilities abound--to name two, the admirer gets into the station and gets fooled way too easily. Fortunately, Garofalo's aforementioned wit, and the chemistry she has with the otherwise wooden actor opposite her, manage to distract from these problems rather well. In general, I'd say that if you liked When Harry Met Sally, you'll like this one as well, if not quite as much; if When Harry... made you ill, it is imperative you avoid The Truth... at all costs.

Once again, have fun! Reactions, commentary, rude insults, and threats in response to the content of this newsletter can be directed to the editor at the address on the outside of the envelope or to [email protected]. I'd also love to know any movie suggestions any of you might have...In the next issue, I will try to finally get around to the new column, plus I'll have a word or two on movie books...
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

TONY