A Pitiful, Dreadful Life?

A year ago today I wrote a little piece on one of my favorite films, It's a Wonderful Life, and, for several reasons, wanted to repost it here with some updated thoughts. It's worth noting, for example, that the film is now addressed within the context of the current "don't trust banks" mindset - a popular sentiment that punctuated the Depression-era news of bank failures and farm foreclosures. And while recent critics still praise the movie as one of Capra's best, they've tended to focus uncharacteristic attention on the darker facets of George Bailey's life and character, from abuse during his childhood to the thinly-veiled frustration and rage that surface in his darkest hours. But I think this duality is pretty typical of Capra's protagonists, from Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (Gary Cooper) and Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (Jimmy Stewart), to the later State of the Union, with a brilliant Spencer Tracy. More serious critics may dismiss Capra as "corny," but one can't deny his brilliance as a story-teller, nor dismiss the appeal of It's a Wonderful Life. Moviegoers like to see stories of redemption, in which the "everyman" hero triumphs against long odds.

Obviously much has changed in the year since I wrote the following post, and It's a Wonderful Life continues to attract attention. Even the New York Times has taken up the subject with a couple of articles, including "Wonderful? Sorry, George, It’s a Pitiful, Dreadful Life." My original post from December 19th, 2007, follows:

It's a Wonderful Life
I had originally written a long post in response to a bit written by a friend over at another blog. She raised an interesting point about the direction our society has taken in recent years, a seasonally appropriate theme since it involves Frank Capra's It's a Wonderful Life. Sure, jaded critics like to point out how corny Capra could be - hence the derisive term "Capra-corn" - but the director was a great storyteller. Moreover, his populist vision of America reflected a very important element in the national psyche during that period. But, alas, a computer malfunction caused me to lose two-thirds of what had become a rather curmudgeonly post on the effects of sprawl and how it is analogous to the depiction of George Bailey's alternate reality - Pottersville - in the movie. (If you've read this blog for very long, you know how I feel about sprawl!)

Last week I managed to watch bits and pieces of Capra's classic on NBC, making sure I saw that unforgettable ending. It's a Wonderful Life remains one of my favorite Christmas movies, along with Miracle on 34th Street (the original), A Christmas Story, The Bishop's Wife, and Santa Claus Conquers the Martians (just kidding . . . maybe). And I still manage to shed tears at the end, when they're singing "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" and "Auld Lang Syne."

Why do I love this movie? First, I've always been a big Jimmy Stewart fan. That "aw shucks," "everyman" quality is perfect in this role. (One also has to admit that Donna Reed was hot as George Bailey's wife.) I also enjoy the contrasting visions of the town, between the quiet, friendly Bedford Falls, and the frenetic, noisy Pottersville. The ugly truth for most of us in America today is that we live in scattered equivalents of Pottersville. So it's nice to think there could be idyllic towns like Bedford Falls in which one has neighbors like George Bailey. Moreover, who wouldn't want to be hailed as the "richest man in town," not by virtue of our bank balance or political influence, but measured by the friends and family one can count on in good times or bad. And finally, one has to enjoy the idea of a "do over" or the opportunity to witness how the world would fare without one's presence, thanks to a visit from Clarence the angel.

Jimmy Stewart always said this was his favorite role in a lengthy film career. I think if one possesses a mere gram of Christmas spirit, it has to be a favorite for many people. With its talk of savings and loans, runs on the bank, and possible suicide, it may prove a little dark for my kids. But having experienced Dickens' Christmas Carol this year, they may soon be ready to discover the joys of Bedford Falls and the Bailey family.

Thursday Walk Downtown

Walked from Madison Square Park to Soho last Thursday and snapped a few photos on the way. As always, Union Square was busy - in this case it was ASPCA Day with lots of dogs, cats, owners and volunteers mucking about in orange bandannas. Union Square seems to attract a very diverse crowd, and sure, the green market that's open several days each week certainly attracts many people. But it seems forever filled with protesters, sidewalk artists, kids on field trips, and the homeless. In the 1970s it was less positively regarded as a haven for prostitutes and drug dealers. With Washington Square Park under renovation, I wonder if some of that park's crowd has migrated up to Union Square.

In the larger photos below: 1) an interesting apartment building with Art Deco detailing at its entrance; 2) a movie shoot outside my favorite bookstore, The Strand (The film is Julie and Julia, based on the popular book about a woman who tried to cook her way through all of a classic Julia Child tome. It stars Amy Adams (Enchanted) and Meryl Streep. Adams looked very ordinary and not nearly as "glam" as her "princess" character in Enchanted.); 3) the "Puck" statue on the Puck Building, located on Houston at Lafayette (I attended a charity dinner and auction here on Thursday evening, hence my walk downtown. TV viewers will recognize the building and the statue from Will and Grace.); and 4) St. Patrick's "Old" Cathedral on Mulberry St. Advertising Sunday services in Chinese, Spanish, and English, this original St. Patrick's obviously serves a diverse population of worshippers, no surprise given its location. There's a large walled cemetery forming a horseshoe around the back of the church. One can peep through the locked doors and spy old stones . . . but I haven't gotten in yet!

"Atonement"

I saw the film version of Atonement on Friday night. Wow! Although reviews for the film have been mixed, I really think that's rather typical of most movie adaptations of popular novels, made all the more problematic by this book's high profile and the numerous awards it has won since its 2001 publication. Under the best of circumstances (a-list stars and a competent director, good screenplay, etc.) it's very difficult to visualize the full scope of 300-400 pages of an author's musings. Even multi-part adaptations - take, for example, "Masterpiece Theatre's" numerous interpretations of classic literary works, some of them stretching to eight and ten episodes - manage to shave details from novels that some readers will doubtless miss and deem critical to understanding a story. So given the complexity of Ian McEwan's novel, it's no surprise that some critics have failed to appreciate Joe Wright's directorial handiwork.

Atonement immediately reminded me of the works of E. M. Forster (long a favorite of mine, both novels and films), particularly in its depiction of class tensions and life on an English country estate. Indeed, the cinematography of this film reminded me of the lush Merchant\Ivory productions of several Forster novels (including Howard's End, Maurice, and A Room with a View). Keira Knightley and James McAvoy turned in wonderful performances, enhanced by an obvious chemistry between them. I was also mesmerized by the score and have already downloaded two selections from iTunes (the main theme, "Atonement"; and "Elegy for Dunkirk," which is built around a stirring Anglican hymn, "Dear Lord and Father of Mankind").

Most movies I see are fun for a couple of hours but are forgotten pretty quickly thereafter, filed away for future reference in games of Trivial Pursuit. But Atonement is one of those films that I'll remember - and doubtless purchase when it reaches DVD. The ending was a shock - but I shan't give it away with spoilers. Just go see it. (And since writing this, I've learned that the film won a Golden Globe yesterday for Best Drama.)

It's a Wonderful Life

I had originally written a long post in response to a bit written by my friend over at "Open Doors." She raised an interesting point about the direction our society has taken in recent years, a seasonally appropriate theme since it involves Frank Capra's It's a Wonderful Life. Sure, jaded critics like to point out how corny Capra could be - hence the derisive term "Capra-corn" - but the director was a great storyteller. Moreover, his populist vision of America reflected a very important element in the national psyche during that period. But, alas, a computer malfunction caused me to lose two-thirds of what had become a rather curmudgeonly post on the effects of sprawl and how it is analogous to the depiction of George Bailey's alternate reality - Pottersville - in the movie. (If you've read this blog for very long, you know how I feel about sprawl!)

Last week I managed to watch bits and pieces of Capra's classic on NBC, making sure I saw that unforgettable ending. It's a Wonderful Life remains one of my favorite Christmas movies, along with Miracle on 34th Street (the original), A Christmas Story, The Bishop's Wife, and Santa Claus Conquers the Martians (just kidding . . . maybe). And I still manage to shed tears at the end, when they're singing "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" and "Auld Lang Syne."

Why do I love this movie? First, I've always been a big Jimmy Stewart fan. That "aw shucks," "everyman" quality is perfect in this role. (One also has to admit that Donna Reed was hot as George Bailey's wife.) I also enjoy the contrasting visions of the town, between the quiet, friendly Bedford Falls, and the frenetic, noisy Pottersville. The ugly truth for most of us in America today is that we live in scattered equivalents of Pottersville. So it's nice to think there could be idyllic towns like Bedford Falls in which one has neighbors like George Bailey. Moreover, who wouldn't want to be hailed as the "richest man in town," not by virtue of our bank balance or political influence, but measured by the friends and family one can count on in good times or bad. And finally, one has to enjoy the idea of a "do over" or the opportunity to witness how the world would fare without one's presence, thanks to a visit from Clarence the angel.

Jimmy Stewart always said this was his favorite role in a lengthy film career. I think if one possesses a mere gram of Christmas spirit, it has to be a favorite for many people. With its talk of savings and loans, runs on the bank, and possible suicide, it may prove a little dark for my kids. But having experienced Dickens' Christmas Carol this year, they may soon be ready to discover the joys of Bedford Falls and the Bailey family.

"Sweet Land"

Last night I watched one of those quiet, indie films that obviously didn't have a big budget or flashy publicity run-up, but nevertheless can leave an indelible impression on those lucky enough to see it. No doubt this film made the rounds of the "artsy" and "indie" theaters around the country and I'm sure it played one of the City's numerous smaller theaters that eschew the glitz of blockbuster offerings. "Sweet Land" tells the story of a bachelor Norwegian farmer living in Minnesota shortly after World War I. (Fans of Garrison Keillor will recognize the "bachelor Norwegian farmer" character from stories about Lake Wobegon. This story, however, is not about humor or stereotypes.) In "Sweet Land" a mail order bride arrives to marry a Norwegian farmer. However, the fact that this bride is of German descent nor has valid immigration papers makes marriage an impossibility, particularly given the wave of anti-German sentiment that swept across the country during this period.

Based on the short story, "A Tombstone Made of Wheat," this film is at once a love story between the farmer and his bride and a look into the prejudices and limitations of ordinary people. At the same time, "Sweet Land" examines the connection to place - and the land itself - for this couple and their descendants. In an age in which family farms are disappearing at a rapid pace in favor of large-scale agri-businesses, this look into the hard and lonely lives of individual farmers on the prairie offers a stark reminder of that way of life. It even addresses - albeit obliquely - the theme of farmers vs. bankers in a sub-plot more recognizable in a story drawn from the Great Depression. And if one listens closely there are even the whispers of the old-fashioned populism that had galvanized American farmers in the last quarter of the 19th century. Add the stark beauty of Minnesota and an excellent cast that includes Alan Cumming, Alex Kingston, and Ned Beatty, as well as Tim Guinee and Elizabeth Reaser in the lead roles, and one has a great little film that doesn't have much in the way of special effects, but shines in terms of pure storytelling and lovely cinematography. It really is one of the most poignant films I've seen in a long time, and likely bears another viewing just so one can absorb the more subtle details of the spartan dialogue.

Given Blockbuster's habit of marketing the more mind-numbing fare offered by Hollywood, I was surprised to find this tucked onto shelves dominated by ad nauseum copies of the latest action films. I guess its presence was management's nod to NYU's neighborhood presence and the possibility that denizens of the East Village might just wander in. If you're a fan of quiet films in which telling the story takes precedence over blowing up cars or saving the world from aliens, I heartily recommend "Sweet Land."

All-Time Greatest Sports Movies

At soccer yesterday, several dads were standing around comparing notes on what we considered "the greatest sports movies of all time." This exercise had been sparked by the fact that one dad in our group simply hadn't seen what most of us considered the "canon" of sports-related movies. Indeed, his exposure to this genre had primarily been dictated by his young sons, who favored baseball movies targeted at kids: Sandlot, Sandlot 2, Sandlot 3, Rookie of the Year, Angels in the Outfield (the Disney-fied version), and the basketball-themed Like Mike. These candy-coated choices are all fun movies for the under 12 set - and count as favorites for my sons - but as classic sports movies they just don't make the cut.

So we started naming off favorites, compiling a list of must-sees for our clueless friend. From that conversation I started thinking about which films would make up my own list of "greatest sports movies." Here goes my dozen, in no particular order after 1 and 2:

1. The Natural

2. Hoosiers

3. Miracle

4. Field of Dreams

5. Breaking Away

6. Chariots of Fire

7. Bend It Like Beckham

8. Slap Shot

9. The Rookie

10. Bad News Bears

11. Bull Durham

12. Requiem for a Heavyweight

If you're a fan of sports movies I've no doubt left out some of your favorites. First, these are all movies I've seen. It wouldn't be fair to judge films I hadn't viewed. Although one might be tempted to drop in the first installment in the Rocky series, I so dislike Sylvester Stallone as an actor, I've never been able to watch more than about five minutes of any of his films. Go ahead and say it: "My loss." You'll notice that five of the twelve are about baseball. This is no surprise, given my love for the game. Also, realize that more movies have been made about baseball than other sport. The only close contender is boxing, about which there are numerous films. (Having been forced to take boxing class as a freshmen in college - a military school requirement - I've come to loathe the sport . . . although I'm willing to acknowledge the brilliance of Rod Serling's Requiem for a Heavyweight.)

Something should be said about my picks for the top two slots. The Natural and Hoosiers are routinely considered among the top sports movies of all time, and in the 20+ years since they were released they've held up well. Hoosiers has even made it to the Library of Congress's list of culturally significiant films worthy of preservation. (They're still among my personal favorites of ANY genre.) Both, I think, have broad appeal because they portray the mythic qualities of their respective sports. The Natural is set in the 1920s or 30s, often considered a "golden age" for baseball - the era of Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, and their larger-than-life contemporaries. The film also tells a classic underdog story, with hero Roy Hobbs battling the forces of age and corruption to triumph in the end with a game-winning homerun. Toss in a nice little love story with Glenn Close, some intrigue with Barbara Hershey, an Oscar-nominated Randy Newman score, and one has the makings of a great film. On a deeper level, The Natural also touches on that significant inter-generational aspect of the sport, through which the skills of baseball and a passion for the game are passed from father to son in a process repeated over successive generations. It's a process with which I immediately identify, because my boys and I play and watch baseball constantly.

Although focusing on basketball, Hoosiers mines some of the same psychological ground to achieve its greatness. There's the obvious element of the underdog, embodied in the Hickory High School team itself, Gene Hackman's character as the embattled head coach, and Dennis Hopper's basketball-obsessed alcoholic father. (And hey, there's another Barbara Hershey siting as well! Hmmmm, could she be the glue that holds these films together?) Like The Natural, Hoosiers is set in a romanticized landscape - small-town Indiana of the 1950s. But here, unlike the solitary heroics of Roy Hobbs in The Natural, the hero is "teamwork" and the ability of five players to work together with their coach to overcome adversity and the pressure of "the big game." I still think that scene in the Bradley University gym when Gene Hackman pulls out the tape measure to reassure a team suddenly overwhelmed by a giant arena is brilliant. The movie also benefits from a fantastic Jerry Goldsmith score that propels the action to the final shot at the buzzer. If you love basketball in its purest form, without the glitz of slam dunks and egos on display, Hoosiers is a winner.

Finally, I have to give special mention to the more recent Kurt Russell vehicle, Miracle, which chronicles the 1980 U.S. men's hockey team and its "miracle" victory over the Soviets at Lake Placid. Having watched that game as an excited sixteen year old, I think the movie does a nice job of capturing the moment. Moreover, Russell delivers a great performance as head coach Herb Brooks, eclipsing some of the more notable roles in his long career, including his turn in The Computer Wore Tennis Shoes, a Disney classic from 1969.

Thankfully, all three of these films have become favorites of my boys, which suits me just fine after watching Air Bud for the fiftieth time. Each one says a lot about patience as a player and the value of good sportsmanship, lessons they need to learn in an age punctuated by bad behavior among so many professional athletes on and off the playing field. These films also say a lot about the theme of redemption. The lead characters in each movie carry some personal tragedy or mistake for which they're trying to redeem themselves. Their success in this endeavor is indeed a valuable lesson. My kids may not understand that aspect of these stories right now. But eventually they'll get it after they've suffered their own setbacks in life. Then these films will take on an even deeper poignancy.

Movie Review: "Shopgirl"

Last night my wife and I finally got around to watching Shopgirl, based on Steve Martin's novella of the same title. This is one of those movies that we had planned on seeing when it hit theaters, but with two little kids, those hopeful intentions aren't always realized. In fact, unless it's a movie for kids (like the recent Ratatouille) or a big action movie that we think won't translate well to television (like the Harry Potter films), we usually just wait until they hit Netflix or Blockbuster. And in the end, most films aren't good enough to warrant the $11 ticket price and $50-$60 on a baby sitter.

Shopgirl was extremely well done, from the acting and cinematography to the score. (Watching the DVD extras after finishing Shopgirl, we learned that the entire color scheme of the film was based on the flow of the relationships in the story. It obviously made a difference in the visual quality of the film.) Claire Danes was luminous - as always - and Steve Martin, as his character demanded, proved atypically reserved and detached. It would be easy to label Shopgirl as "just another good date movie." No doubt it would serve ably in that role for an audience of twenty-somethings or fans of Jason Schwartzman and his turn in Rushmore. Nor is the story a classic May-December romance. Indeed, the age issue doesn't really play a role in the romantic relationships. Shopgirl is more about the nature of romantic relationships and the ways in which we process the emotions - including love - attendant in those liaisons.

Understand that the story flowed from the pen of Martin, and thus carries an emotional gravitas that reflects its origins. In fact, wanting more of the depth of the original story, my wife and I both wouldn't mind reading the novella, which doubtless reveals more detail vis-a-vis character development. Then I think we should watch the film again and see how Martin's screenplay compares to the novella. If you haven't seen Shopgirl, check it out. It's a perfect movie for a glass of wine and a good friend. And yes, even a date.