Showing posts with label John Wayne. Show all posts
Showing posts with label John Wayne. Show all posts

Thursday, December 30, 2010

True Grit and no-grit De Niro: A Hollywood two-fer



I just saw one of the most talked about and critically praised movies of the year this week, and am mystified that one of the year’s most critically panned movies did smashing box office business.
Each is worthy of thoughtful commentary.
If that’s what you’re after, please look elsewhere.
This is a holiday week, a time when people with paychecks relax.
But that has nothing to do with blogging, which is sort of like a hobby in that it earns no money and distracts from actual wage-earning endeavors. Combine those factors with someone like me, a blogger who cherishes laziness, and you’re not  going to get something thoughtful or structured.
I’m not going to labor to form tedious transitions, mine wit or seek deeper meaning from popcorn matinees.
Instead, I’m going to take the lazy way out and write about them in two distinct sections.
I don’t think anyone’s going to mind. I apologize if you feel cheated and promise to come back next week with more cerebral stuff and maybe with a new blog motto for 2011:
“Now nearly three years without a price increase!”
• “True Grit” is more dud than Dude. The Coen Brothers have done so much marvelous work that herd critics are reluctant to say when they miss the mark, which is becoming more common.
I was disappointed. Worse, I was bored.
As I mentioned, I saw this with five buddies earlier this week. We sat in three different rows, two to a row, spread out with buffer seats between each of us. We were so intent on ensuring no one in the theater mistook us for the chipper gang from the Bravo show “Queer Eye for that Straight Guy” that Ronnie kept saying very loudly, “Gee, when do you think the girls will get here?”

I was really looking forward to this and, as with the last three or four Coen brother movies, I felt let down. It was a decent western and that’s something I always appreciate, but I expected more.
It must be nice making a movie about an obscure book and remaining faithful to its intent. That lets viewers and critics say of flaws, well, it’s just like that in the flawed book. 
C’mon. “True Grit” isn’t heirloom Americana. This isn’t grandpa’s old fire house chili recipe. If the book needs spice, throw in some cumin, dice up a pepper, add some Tabasco. Breath some fire into the old beast.
That’s what they did with the John Wayne version and it was great campy fun.
I just kept waiting for “True Grit” to kick into a higher gear that was never engaged. Jeff Bridges is becoming one of our best actors, and he was as  entertaining as expected. But the role wasn’t broad enough.
Much is being made of the sassy and opinionated 14-year-old star, Hailee Steinfeld, and her mouthy composure.
From what I understand, mouthy sass is something every 14 year-old girl who’s ever tuned into Disney shows like “iCarly” can instinctually summon.
The movie could have used a little literary license from the Coens who made things like “Fargo,” a movie that begins with an on-screen deception proclaiming what viewers are about to see really happened.
Why the lie? Here’s what Joel said.
"We weren't interested in that kind of storytelling fidelity,” he said. “If an audience believes that something's based on a real event, it gives you permission to do things they might otherwise not accept.”
Well, nothing in “True Grit” ever really happened.
And that’s how I felt about the afternoon walking out of the theater.
• What on earth can we as a concerned nation do about Robert De Niro? With the release of “Little Fockers,” I think we’ve reached a crisis situation.
He’s become on of those rarest of actors whose career trajectory has reversed. His best work was 30 years ago and he’s becoming increasingly unwatchable.
How the man who played Jake LaMotta in “Raging Bull,” Travis Bickle in “Taxi Driver,” Michael Vronksy in “The Deer Hunter” and Vito Corleone in two monumental Godfather epics could allow his prestige to be diminished in not one but two Focker sequels is appalling.
It’s as if Paul Newman starred as Butch Cassidy and Cool Hand Luke in his 20s and concluded his career flirting on the Lido Deck with cruise director Julie McCoy on the “Love Boat.”
De Niro, 67, hasn’t made an important movie since “Casino” in 1995. He turned down great roles opposite Clint Eastwood in “In the Line of Fire” (the John Malkovich role) and again in “The Departed” (the role that went to splendid Martin Sheen).
Critics panned the fock out of this version and some even took unkind shots at the original “Meet The Parents,” a movie I find hilarious.
But everyone involved in these sequels has disgraced themselves, none worse than the once-great De Niro.
He’s capable of great comedy, as he’s shown in the uproarious 1988 film “Midnight Run.”
Tom Hanks understands his popularity is based more on his likeability than his acting ability. He’s very wise and selective in the roles he plays and he stays below the radar.
De Niro is ubiquitous for all the wrong reasons. He’s in too many bad movies and seems intent on ridiculing all that made him great (“Analyze This/That,” “Shark Tale” and the “GodFocker” bits in the current nonsense).
Isn’t anybody offering Robert De Niro good roles?
Unless he does something good -- and it better be good and bloody -- he might as well go off and toil in unpaid obscurity doing something he enjoys doing for free.
I’d urge him to consider blogging.
• Happy New Year! Resolve in 2011 to overcome your fear of being lazy.

Friday, January 2, 2009

No resolutions for Mr. Perfect


After a careful round of calculating self-analysis, I’ve concluded there’s no need for me to resolve anything to improve in 2009. I’m already an outstanding family man, friend, employee and all-around great guy.

I cherish most of my prime vices -- bourbon, cigars, beer, sloth -- and nurture them like a farmer who loves a garden full of weeds. So those are off-limits.

But here are some popular resolution topics and why I don’t need any amendments:

• Fatherhood -- I don’t know of any fathers who spend as much time with their children as I do with mine. Of course, in their defense, most of those fathers have real jobs with real deadlines and whip-cracking bosses. But if one of my daughters wants me to help her build a snowman I just call my buddies at the bar and tell them I’m going to be 20 minutes late for Happy Hour. Resolve to be a better father? How could I?

• Husband -- My shortcomings in this arena as perceived by one expert witness -- my wife -- are that I’m lazy, can’t repair common household malfunctions, refuse to pick up a paint brush, don’t care about how the house/lawn looks, blah, blah, blah. I’d like to offer rebuttals to these hurtful truths, but years ago I resolved to be peerlessly honest so guilty I must plead. Still, I once overheard her telling our oldest daughter that the secret to happiness was finding a man who could make you laugh. That certainly didn’t lead me to pick up any paint brushes -- there’s nothing funny about a paint brush. But I did resolve to do more entertaining juggling in front of her and to always do it naked.

• Be a better employee -- I’m always struck by the scene in “A Christmas Story” where Ralphie turns in his theme and imagines the teacher dancing across the room exhalting “A-plus! Plus! Plus! Plus!” as his euphoric fellow students carry him around in triumph. That’s exactly what I imagine is going on in the editorial offices at magazines seconds after I’ve hit the send button on some assigned or spec piece. Sadly, the best I can hope for is two weeks later the editor writing back to say “I like the lead, but the rest is a mess. Do the whole thing over and have it to me by the weekend.” Still, I always maintain the most tender feelings for those first drafts. I can only hope all those editors uniformly resolve to go easier on the Latrobe guy next time he turns in something he’s convinced is genius.

• Spirituality -- I pray constantly. Of course, I’m praying that I’ll hit the lottery, that the cop behind the speed gun is napping and that the people to whom I owe great sums of money will be transferred to Bangalore, India. I once came up with what I thought was a great line regarding spirituality: “I used to pray for money and got nothing. Now I pray for wisdom and need nothing.” I pray daily it’s a line I’ll one day actually embrace. Still, I think the line qualifies me as being plenty spiritual so to hell with that sort of resolution.

• Be less egotistical: The only reason I spend so much time telling myself I’m so great is because so many publishers and editors spend so much time telling me how much I stink. If I didn’t have this enormous, runaway fortress of an ego, I’d probably be forced to admit I’m a failure, chuck my writing ambitions and get at a job that might yield actual income. I’m not about to do that.

I suppose I could resolve to be less transparent when confronted with something I believe is absurdly preposterous -- like rolling my eyes when my wife suggests I take time out from watching the 12-hour John Wayne marathon to do something like clean the bathtub.

Her insistence that my eye rolling drives her crazy has made me more attuned to others who do it to me. Like when I mentioned to family and friends that I am once again making no resolutions because I am unable to detect any personal flaws that need correcting.

Typical was the gushing praise I got from friends who said things like, “Ohhh, sure! You’re perfect just the way you are! How could any resolutions possibly improve on the you we all love so much? Yeah, you’re the best! The best!”

Maybe I should resolve to strengthen my abilities to self-analyze because I detected several of these supporters extravagantly rolling their eyes as they offered this warm praise.

Or maybe, as a first step, I should just resolve to learn to differentiate between praise and sarcasm.