Monday at the Movies - September 17, 2012

Welcome to Week Thirty-Five of “Monday at the Movies.”  Having wrapped our look at the “Alien Quadrilogy,” we unintentionally continue profiling the work of Sigourney Weaver this week with a franchise in which I’d honestly forgotten she appeared.  You all know the song; now try to get it out of your head.

Ghostbusters (1984) – First, Ivan Reitman’s comedy classic is not remembered for being a particularly great or innovative movie.  The film frequently compromises its own internal logic, there is a dearth of character development in nearly every face on the screen, and at times the film feels like a huckster trying to sell you a bridge.  What saves the film, though, redeems all those faults and makes Ghostbusters a hit – the infectious camaraderie and earnest enthusiasm of its protagonists.  It must have been a thrill seeing Bill Murray, Dan Aykroyd, Harold Ramis, and Ernie Hudson standing side-by-side on the silver screen; added bonuses include Rick Moranis and Sigourney Weaver as unwitting pawns in a supernatural scheme.  The undisputed star is, of course, Murray, whose semi-improvisational style points out the film’s oddities with droll self-confidence (“We came, we saw, we kicked its ass!”), contrasting nicely with Aykroyd and Ramis’s gee-whiz enthusiasm for the premise.  Unfortunately, the script isn’t as tight as Ramis’s would be in the brilliant Groundhog Day a decade later; we don’t quite get a handle on the villain’s big scheme, and the characters are relatively flat.  But Ramis, co-writing with Aykroyd, does know the art of the non sequitur, as in the famous Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man sequence, and it gives the actors and actresses plenty of room to have fun.  This, I think, is the film’s greatest strength; it’s incredibly fun, which prevents the viewer from nitpicking too closely.  If cinema is escapism, Ghostbusters is a top-notch example of that tradition, warts and all.

Ghostbusters II (1989) – In the sequel, the flaws are more apparent, in part because the film opens itself too much to the negative effects on time.  Operating after a real-time gap, Ghostbusters II finds the paranormal exterminators out of a job and out of public favor; if it’s a commentary on box-office demand, it’s a depressing way to begin the film.  In fact, for a comedy, this is a pretty depressing film.  Murray, whose sardonic wit carried most of the first film, seems genuinely bored here, and Aykroyd’s sincerity seems like he’s trying too hard; Ramis doesn’t do much other than serve as a punchline for other characters to imply how creepy he is.  Weaver gets more to do here, presumably as a consequence of her coronation as resident sci-fi queen; her battle to save her son from a reincarnated Carpathian portrait is genuine and compelling, even if the foe isn’t.  The film also gives Moranis a larger role, which is a credit to any movie; his desire to be a “real” Ghostbuster is touching and clever all at once.  The soundtrack, though, is distractingly outdated, even more so than the original film’s ultra-80s theme tune.  I’m feeling surprisingly down on this movie, which catches me off-guard because I loved it so much as a child (I even had the coloring book, of all things).  And it’s not to say that this is a bad movie; it’s probably as intrinsically good as the original.  But what happens in Ghostbusters II is that the cracks show more clearly so that a “just good” movie never quite transcends beyond that level.

That does it for this week’s edition of “Monday at the Movies.” We’ll see you here next week for an exciting new feature in the realm of The Cinema King – stay tuned!

Groundhog Day (1993)

And now for something completely different - a light-hearted comedy (with strong philosophical overtones) that restored my faith in Harold Ramis and reminded me how much I love Bill Murray.

Groundhog Day, if it's not already, ought to be widely regarded as a modern American classic both for its aesthetic merits and its scholarly potential. Murray stars as weatherman Phil Connors, assigned to cover the appearance of groundhog Punxsutawney Phil on February 2. After completing his report, Phil finds himself trapped in a time loop; no matter what he does, he wakes up each morning on February 2, forced to relive the day over and over and over again, trapped in his least favorite town in America. From drunken disorderly conduct to petty larceny to pure gluttony, Phil soon discovers that his cloud has a silver lining - a Christmas Carol-esque opportunity to turn his life around and win the affection of pretty producer Rita (Andie MacDowell).

There's little question that Bill Murray is funny, and there's even less interrogation of the claim that Groundhog Day is among his best work. In a way, Phil Connors is the iconic Bill Murray role - obnoxiously self-assured, dripping with dry humor, and mildly misanthropic (Dr. Venkman of Ghostbusters is cut from the same cloth). So it's a pitch-perfect performance that Murray turns in here, bringing his trademark ennui and disinterested delivery to a character that so succinctly states what "the Bill Murray character" is. But there's a touch more at stake than just comedic timing and wry smirks; Phil's descent into depression when he realizes the futility of progress in his own personal hell is among some of the finer cinematic portrayals of despondency, and it's a credit to Murray that he can do drama as well as comedy - within the same picture, to boot.

The other performers are fine in their parts, though it's unquestionably Murray's movie. MacDowell is a strong foil for Murray, compassionate and optimistic in the face of Phil's sardonic nature. As cameraman/sidekick, Chris Elliott isn't distracting, which makes me forget why I'm not a big fan of his (though not entirely; he still owes the world for Cabin Boy). But perhaps the strongest supporting performance - groundhog aside - comes from top-caliber character actor Stephen Tobolowsky; fans of Glee will recognize him as ousted show choir director Sandy Ryerson, but it's here as "Needlenose" Ned Ryerson that most fans came to love him (I'd always liked him, but it took his "Tobolowsky Files" podcast for that affection to be solidified). Ned Ryerson is a scene-stealer in all the best ways, such that his (re)appearance(s) are among the highlights of Phil's day; just "watch out for that first step - it's a dooooozy!"

But the script is smart beyond just being clever. It's somewhat easy to write a punchline, to give a talented actor like Murray a one-liner he can use to zing another character, but to come up with a script as intelligent as Groundhog Day is a doozy, and so major kudos go to Ramis and Danny Rubin for an intellectually stimulating screenplay that transcends the obvious material and delves into psychologically and academically compelling material. What would such an experience do to a person - an egocentrist, in particular? Perhaps the best exploration of this concept comes in a key diner scene, in which Phil offers that he might be a god - not the God, of course, but one of them, one who's "just been around so long that he knows everything." Bordering on blasphemy, the film deftly navigates the issue by making it about Phil, not Phil's claim. And without distracting us with the cause of Phil's eternity on Feb. 2 (it's never revealed, nor even alluded to), we can focus wholly on matters of character and, to an interesting extent, destiny. But the film never gets bogged down in its own philosophical foundations, remaining abundantly entertaining and laugh-out-loud.

All this Groundhog Day accomplishes with imperturbability, unflinchingly cool and eminently amusing without becoming stale on repeat viewings (honestly, I've got to be past 20 on "times I've seen this movie").

Groundhog Day is fairly tame, rated PG "for some thematic elements," a description that does its best to obfuscate what's objectionable about this movie - basically, recklessness and a few suicides that are heavily implied but which occur off-screen (the most fantastical transpires on-screen, with a eyes-widening explosion).

Year One (2009)

How the mighty have fallen. I watched Year One out of fidelity to Michael Cera and writer/director Harold Ramis, and I'm really sorry that I did.

In a riff of sorts on Mel Brooks's History of the World, Part I, Year One follows two tribal villagers - Zed (Jack Black) and Oh (Cera) - on a walking tour of the Old Testament after they eat from the tree of knowledge of good and evil, an action that results in their exile from the village. After meeting Cain and Abel (David Cross and Paul Rudd) and a brush with circumcision-happy Abraham and his son Isaac (Hank Azaria and Christopher "McLovin" Mintz-Plasse), the two wind up in Sodom & Gomorrah, trying to save the two caveladies they're sweet on.

Among the more distracting and ultimately distasteful aspects of the film is that it plays fast and loose with historical and textual accuracy. The film has us believe that cavemen, Israelites, Egyptians, and Romans existed at the same time, though any student in a 100-level history survey knows better. More problematic is the film's overreliance on established Old Testament narratives, which it disregards in favor of a vignette-style approach in which our cavepeople happen upon notable scenes. Yet Year One suggests that the murder of Abel (Genesis 4), the sacrifice of Isaac (Genesis 22), and the impending destruction of Sodom & Gomorrah (Genesis 19) all occurred within a few weeks of each other - an implication that diverts one's attention from the action on screen. The worst offense on this count is that Sodom & Gomorrah are saved at the end of the film, which is disappointing considering a special effects piece involving Michael Bay-style explosions might have redeemed at least a fraction of the movie for me.

Not that there's much action to watch. Black and Cera move from scene to scene without doing much; they make a few crude sexual jokes before some heavyhanded expositional dialogue signals a coming change of scenery. Black is perfectly cast as a caveman - just not this caveman; as a supposed "chosen one," Zed is responsible for enlightening civilization and ushering in a new era for mankind. This from a guy who in the next breath drops the ball on a fart joke? I've never understood Hollywood's love affair with Black (save for what I thought was a deent supporting role in Tropic Thunder), and Year One solidifies that. Similarly, Cera's underused here, though I doubt he would have done much more with Oh if he weren't; Cera plays the same socially awkward mumbler he always does, and while he's decent at this character type, his delivery trumps the poor dialogue he receives.

That's the biggest problem with Year One - it's a Harold Ramis film. The man who brought us Animal House, Ghostbusters, and Groundhog Day is responsible for this stinker. Knowing that Ramis is capable of so much more than this - cognizant of the potential that's being squandered in this movie - is almost as painful as sitting through the whole movie. As comedy scripts go, this is one of the unfunniest I've ever seen; the acting is weak, the jokes are humorless (even and especially when the film descends to the level of excrement jokes), and the ending fizzles out. Indeed, the only joy one can derive from this experience is celebrity spotting; for reasons I've yet to comprehend, Year One is populated with A-list stars slumming for a paycheck (either that or they simply want to say they were in a Harold Ramis movie). I felt most sorry for Oliver Platt, who's trapped in gaudy robes and one-note jokes about homosexuality; similar pathos goes out to Olivia Wilde, whose nascent career now has a dark smear on it.

Year One is also the name of one of my favorite Batman storylines. DC Comics followed up the popular storyline with Year Two and Year Three, though Harold Ramis would do better to move on and pretend that Year One never happened.
Year One is rated PG-13 "for crude and sexual content throughout, brief strong language and comic violence." The characters talk about sex and "laying with" in almost every scene, sometimes quite crudely; F-bombs crop up on occcasion, and there are a few goofy sword/fistfights that are as enjoyable as they are gory, which is to say not at all.