Constant Reader

That being said, I’m not really sure how to even go about writing about this movie. It’s a wild series of vignettes that are only loosely connected together by the most basic of plots and it is loaded down with iconic scenes and images. It starts out with Pee-Wee’s Rube Goldberg breakfast machine and then goes downhill as he discovers that his beloved bike has been stolen. And the rest of the movie is the titular Big Adventure, as Pee-Wee goes looking for it.

Along the way, Pee-Wee meets an escaped convict, the ghost of a dead truck driver, angry bikers and all sorts of other strange characters. He spends a night talking with a diner waitress in the top of a giant dinosaur statue. He danced to “Tequila” on tabletops in a biker bar. He tumbles through several live soundstages, disrupting a handful of movies, including a Godzilla film and a Twisted Sister music video.

And in the end, of course, Pee-Wee gets his bike back. He also sells his story to Hollywood where it is made into a film. But not the film you’re watching. This isn’t a meta Mel Brooks comedy. This is much, much weirder. In this film, the movie made telling Pee-Wee’s story is a hilariously distorted Hollywood blockbuster, where Pee-Wee becomes a James Bond knockoff.

Only recently, a sequel to this film was released directly to Netflix. Burton was not involved this time, which shows all the more how much the original film was from the mind of Pee-Wee Herman, rather than Burton. The sequel is incredibly similar to the original. Again, it’s a series of strange vignettes, barely held together by the thinnest of plots. Again, it tells the story of Pee-Wee traveling across the country and meeting a diverse cast of strangers and weirdos along the way. But this time, it’s not to track down a stolen bike. Even weirder, Pee-Wee is rushing to get to his new best friend’s birthday party. And that best friend is True Blood and Magic Mike’s Joe Manganiello. It’s probably my favorite aspect of the new film. The idea that this widely swooned over Hollywood heartthrob is actually just as much of a goofy dork as Pee-Wee Herman is endlessly delightful. 

Like I said, it’s a cool idea. Unfortunately, they seem to be plagued with all sorts of production difficulties I guess. There are currently 6 volumes that have been filmed. But only four are available on DVD. Volume 4, set in Louisville, KY (which I have a definite vested interest in seeing) was presumably filmed in 2006, sometime between Portland’s Volume 3 and Seattle’s Volume 5, filmed in January of 2007. But Louisville is still not available. Volume 6, set in Atlanta, GA was also filmed in 2007 and has only been available for purchase and rental via Vimeo in the last month or so. So kind of a mess. I guess sometimes that’s just the nature of independent productions.

So we only actually own Volume 3. Sleater-Kinney is on it, so it was a must have in our house. And really, it’s a pretty uneven affair. The Decemberists’ Chris Funk is the curator for this one and you can’t fault him for diversity. In addition to The Decemberists and Sleater-Kinney, there’s The Lifesavas, a local hip-hop group (the first hip-hop group to appear in the series), a screamo band called The Planet The, and a group of kids from the local rock camp for kids, performing under the name The Ready. There are a few other beloved Portland bands like Quasi, The Thermals, The Gossip, and The Shins, but the offering seems a bit thin considering how much Portland is associated with critically acclaimed indie music.

My understanding of previous volumes in the series is that they spend some time looking at the story of the house where they’re performing, but in this case they sort of breeze past that because the house doesn’t seem to have much of a story. It’s a relatively new structure. The previous owner didn’t live there that long and the current owner plans to destroy it so he can build a bigger home in its place. Oh, it’s not even in Portland proper. It’s located next to a golf course in the suburbs.

The performance highlights are varied. Sleater-Kinney and The Thermals are great as always, though both performances seem a little more low-key than what we’re used to seeing from these fantastic, energetic bands. They play “Modern Girl” and “Welcome to the Planet” respectively. The Decemberists are having a lot of fun playing “The Mariner’s Revenge Song” and it’s infectious to watch. After The Decemberists, the last two bands close the show on a high note, first Wet Confetti, a chaotic art punk band tears through “Take My Advice”. They aren’t a band I am familiar with, and a little research shows they broke up in 2007, without a lot of fanfare, but they look worth digging into. And finally The Gossip closes the program with “Listen Up”. The Gossip isn’t a band I’m particularly into, but they definitely give one of the strongest performances of the program. 

If by some chance you aren’t familiar, the plot is simultaneously very simple, and yet kind of complex. A group of wealthy people gather for a dinner party. For some strange reason, one by one the servants of the house are compelled to leave. They don’t really seem to know why, but they each make poor excuses and leave in ones and twos. The lady of the house is furious, but at least the head servant/butler/what-have-you is sticking around.

They get through the dinner without incident and the group continues partying into the night. People chat on sofas, flirt in corners, play the piano or dance to the music. Everyone is having a good time. Such a good time, in fact, that no one really wants to leave. Eventually everyone ends up claiming spots on the floor and all the party-goers turn in for the night. It’s only after everyone wakes up that the guests start to realize that they can’t leave. The doors aren’t barred. They aren’t chained up. But everyone seems to be just unable to leave. There’s no real physical reason, but each time someone makes a move to leave, they find some reason not to. They’re distracted in one way or another.

From here, things slowly descend into chaos and madness. The guests quickly run out of food and water and they begin to turn on one another. It’s like a polite society version of Lord of the Flies. Eventually, a few people die, whether from the physical or psychological effects of their situation.

The outside world soon catches on to the plight of the party-goers, but it seems that the outside world is just as much unable to enter. But finally, the guests find a way to recreate the moments before they were trapped and somehow this solves the problem. However the film ends with a congregation in a church finding themselves stuck in the same situation.

A lot of ink has been spilled attempting to analyze The Exterminating Angel, though Bunuel himself never offered up an explanation. It’s clear that Bunuel was never a fan of the bourgeoisie and it seems a likely place to begin. Maybe he just wanted to show that no one is ever really that far above their wild animal nature. It doesn’t take much to send us back there. Perhaps, as has been said by others before, it more specifically points toward the ruling class in Spain during the rule of Francisco Franco. Either way, it shows that we need all need to come together as one society working together to the betterment of all humankind. When these people wall themselves away, separate from the servants and other lower class individuals, they become feral. They have made themselves apart from the outside world and they suffer for it.

Turns out the movie is really good. It also introduced us to the world of mumblecore films and to the music of Bishop Allen. Not bad, huh?

Like most mumblecore films, this one tells a story of a group of twentysomethings in New York. In this case, director Andrew Bujalski is Lawrence, a college teaching assistant. He and his girlfriend Ellie have their world shaken up a bit when Lawrence’s old friend Alan moves to New York from Boston. Alan is played by Justin Rice, frontman for Bishop Allen, and their music features prominently in the film. Here, Alan was the frontman for a band called The Bumblebees. They recorded an album and then broke up soon after. So he has come to New York to pursue his music career elsewhere.

But, again, like most mumblecore films, the plot isn’t really the important part. It’s about the conversations young people have with one another as they attempt to figure out their places in the world. Everyone is a little awkward. Alan ends up in a relationship with a radio DJ and he doesn’t know how to end it, particularly since her brother is playing drums in his upcoming gig. Meanwhile, a strange sexual tension is building between Alan and Ellie and they can’t quite figure out what to do with it. When Lawrence goes out of town for the weekend to attend a wedding, it seems that things will come to a head. But unlike what you would expect from standard movies, Alan and Ellie do not have an affair. They have an awkward conversation about their confusing mutual feelings and they agree not to proceed. Then when Lawrence returns, Ellie tells him about what happened and he is entirely understanding. He then confronts Alan about it, and they have a conversation about it. Then the three hang out together and everything seems to be fine. Like I said, this movie is all about the conversations young people have. There aren’t any epic fights, because really, for most people, there aren’t many epic fights in our real lives. We talk, we fret about talking about uncomfortable things, but eventually we do it, or we don’t and the world keeps spinning.

But this right here is a complete disaster. Spaceballs was a deeply flawed film, but it still had plenty of funny moments. This movie is almost completely unwatchable. After the opening credits, the first scene is of a group of black men wearing a combination of Robin Hood era period clothing--lots of tights and green elf shoes and all of that--along with generic “Urban” accessories--big sunglasses and gold chains. They the proceed to set up the story with a rap song about Robin Hood. And it’s absolutely painful. It’s one of those awkward raps where a white guy said “This hippety hop is all the rage with the kids these days. Seems easy enough. I’ll write a funny rap song and the kids will just eat it up.” It’s completely tonedeaf and really quite offensive. And if you can somehow see past the casual racism, it’s still not even funny. And this pretty much sets the tone for the film.

After this, it’s generally more of the same. We have countless blind jokes courtesy of Robin’s blind sidekick Blinken. There are dozens of gay jokes. There’s a character who has one comedic device, switching words around in sentences into HILARIOUS misstatements. Then there are a handful of jokes recycled from previous Brooks films (a camera zooming in on Maid Marion in the bath crashes through the window, the oft-repeated “walk this way” gag, “It’s good to be the king”). There are other musical numbers as well, like the Men In Tights theme song which is overflowing with lines about how they look like sissies and pansies. Soon after, the merry men disguise themselves as women for no particular reason. It’s all quite cringe inducing. Oh, and Brooks himself shows up as a Rabbi mostly just to make a bunch of circumcision jokes.

Watching this I mostly just feel sorry for Richard Lewis (who plays King John) and Dave Chappelle (who makes his film debut as Achoo, one of Robin’s merry men) that they’re both involved in this trainwreck. They really don’t add much either, to be honest. Also, Patrick Stewart. He makes a cameo as King Richard. Why? Dom DeLuise does an extended impression of Brando as The Godfather, and that’s really one of the funniest parts of the film, if that says anything. There’s that and Maid Marion’s Everlast chastity belt. That’s about all this film has to offer.

Beyond that, there are weird magical old rings that control the Schwartz, the film’s Force analog. The rings seem really out of place. These rings are used in a climactic duel, where they function like lightsabers. Dark Helmet and Lone Starr (Bill Pullman), the Han Solo/Luke Skywalker hybrid character hold their hands to their crotches, light beams pointing out like absurd erections. (”I see your Schwartz is as big as mine!”)

But more than weak comedy and Star Wars nerd criticisms, I think my main issue with this film is that Princess Vespa (Daphne Zuniga), the Princess Leia character, is really nothing like Princess Leia. In the worst way. Leia is a strong, clever character. She operates under her own initiative. She fearlessly works with the Rebel Alliance. She is not a spoiled rich girl and she certainly isn’t a damsel in distress. Princess Vespa, on the other hand, is nothing but a spoiled rich girl who exists to be rescued by Lone Starr and to be his inevitable love interest. Of course, I realize that this isn’t the first sci-fi movie to have one dimensional female characters, but it seems particularly unfortunate when the character being parodied is so much better than that.

However, that isn’t to say that the film is wholly without merit. Rick Moranis does a pretty great job as Dark Helmet, a short nerd trying to be an intimidating Darth Vader type. Every time he tries to show off and look tough, it comes back to bite him. He insists on using Ludicrous Speed, in spite of his crew’s advise against it and then refuses to put on his seatbelt, which inevitably leads to him crashing into a wall and seriously crushing his helmet. Later he’s caught playing with Spaceballs action figures, acting out a scene where he defeats Lone Starr and Barf and wins Princess Vespa’s love. It’s probably the best scene in the film and was supposedly completely improvised by Moranis.

There are also a lot of pretty great moments of Brooks’ trademark fourth wall breaking. First of all, Dark Helmet puts on a VHS copy of Spaceballs and fast forwards it to help him track down Lone Starr and Princess Vespa. And then Yogurt shows Lone Starr all sorts of Spaceballs cash-in merchandise, lunchboxes and dolls and so forth. Later, a cameraman gets injured in the middle of the climactic Schwartz-saber battle.

Then near the end, there a casual little nods to Planet of the Apes and Alien which are pretty nice. Particularly the Alien reference, when a baby alien bursts out of John Hurt’s chest in the middle of a diner and then proceeds to do the Michigan J. Frog “Hello my baby, hello my honey“ song and dance across the bar.

It’s not a bad movie per se. Not cringeworthy or anything, but it definitely doesn’t live up to its potential. John Candy plays Barf, and he doesn’t get to do much beyond gross out humor. And then Joan Rivers provides the voice of Dot Matrix, the C3PO-type character, and she is criminally underused. it’s just a shame. Clearly a lot of effort was put into making this. The special effects look great, the cast is pretty stellar, and yet the story just falls a little short. It’s not a terrible movie, but it could easily be a better movie.

So, to start with: this is a comedy/thriller set in Poland in the early days of World War II. The Nazis have just taken Poland and through a series of strange and unfortunate incidences a small Polish theatre company finds itself mixed up with their Nazi conquerors. The head of the company, Joseph Tura (Jack Benny) (or Frederick Bronski (Brooks), depending on which version we’re talking), ends up having to disguise himself as various Nazi agents in order to protect the local families of resistance fighters and himself and his loving (but not so faithful) wife Maria/Anna (Carole Lombard/Anne Bancroft).

There’s humor throughout both versions of the film, much of it from the Benny and/or Brooks, who play the main character very similarly, a flawed actor who takes himself very seriously. It’s often a comedy of errors as the disguises lead to all sorts of confusion. But there’s constant tension as well. The schemes and disguises may be funny, but in the end they’re still trying to fool Nazis. There are real consequences to be had if these plans don’t succeed. And both films do a pretty great job of making this tension feel very real.

Now, as for differences, there honestly aren’t many. The remake follows the story of the original pretty closely. However, it does feel like a little bit is lost in translation. The humor feels fresher and tighter in Lubitsch’s version. Strangely, the two films are fairly close in length, but there are moments when the remake seems to drag. Lubitsch’s version moves briskly. It never gets bogged down in unnecessary plot elements or complications. The remake can’t quite make the same claim. There are only two major differences between the two versions. First, the remake adds several musical numbers that feel entirely unnecessary. And second, the remake adds the character of Sasha. In the original, Maria Tura had a female dresser backstage who was a very minor character. But in the remake, Anna Bronski’s dresser is a gay man named Sasha, who plays a somewhat larger role in the story. It’s a nice touch. The Nazis’ treatment of homosexuals is not discussed as often, and Sasha puts a very human face on that as he is forced to wear a pink triangle and is eventually pursued and captured by the Gestapo. Thankfully, Anna is able to get him rescued, but then again, this is a comedy. It’s certainly not representative of reality.

The film starts by parodying the opening of 2001: A Space Odyssey and ends with a coming attraction that pokes fun at Star Wars. Within the film, the coming attractions are a joke. This is History of the World Part 1, so of course Part 2 must be coming, right? But, Brooks must have enjoyed his very brief dip into the waters of Star Wars because as we all know, he would return to that world before long with Space Balls. But we’ll get to that soon.

It’s hard to even elaborate on this one since it’s just so scattershot. I think it also suffers from the fact that Monty Python also covered some of the same territories to better effect. The ending is probably my favorite part. Brooks plays a different character in each segment, and sometimes more than one. In the French Revolution segment, Brooks plays the King, but also the “piss boy,” a peasant charged with carrying around a bucket for aristocrats to piss in. Fearing the Revolution and noting his uncanny resemblance to the piss boy, the King pulls a Prince and the Pauper switcheroo, leaving the piss boy in a bad place when the peasants storm the castle. Lucky for him, Brooks also played a “stand up philosopher” in the Roman Empire section. After angering the Emperor, he and a slave named Josephus (Gregory Hines) go on the run. So of course, in the end, “Piss Boy” Brooks is rescued by Josephus in his horse-drawn chariot. Don’t think about it too hard or the wheels will fall off. It’s familiar Brooks meta humor, but it still works for me.

That ending and the famous “It’s good to be King” catchphrase that actually became part of the cultural phrasebook are high points. But then there are low points like in the Roman Empire section where a guy walks by in the middle of a crowd carrying a boombox on his shoulder that is blasting “Funky Town”. What’s the gag here? How is that funny? I think you’re supposed to just think “That wouldn’t be there, Mell Brooks! You’re so silly!” But really it’s just lazy.

This one continues Brooks’ run of genre parodies. This time the genre is Hitchcock. Or thrillers in general, though mostly Hitchcock. Hitchcock actually helped Brooks with the script, and it shows. The pacing is tight and quick and it covers a lot of ground as it travels through Hitchcock’s work.

The film starts with Dr. Thorndyke (Brooks) a psychiatrist coming into a mental health facility after the previous head doctor died mysteriously. It calls to mind the dozens of thrillers and noir films set in ominous asylums, particularly Hitchcock’s Spellbound. Though Thorndyke is technically in charge, it’s clear that the place is really ruled by the terrifying Nurse Diesel (Cloris Leachman), a hybrid of Nurse Ratchet from One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest and Mrs. Danvers from Hitchcock’s Rebecca.

It turns out a lot of suspicious activity is taking place at the asylum. Beyond the kinky sex stuff going on behind closed doors between Nurse Diesel and Dr. Montague, it’s clear that a lot of the patients are being mistreated. It’s not uncommon in these kinds of films.

Eventually, Thorndyke meets the daughter of one of the patients and gets himself wrapped up in the mystery. Which eventually leads to him being wrongfully accused of murder, which of course, is the central plot to countless Hitchcock films. Things eventually come to a head in a tower scene that would be pretty familiar to anyone who has seen Vertigo, the Hitchcock film that is probably referenced the most here.

In the middle, there’s a shot-for-shot remake of the shower scene from Psycho when an angry bellboy gets a little too overzealous in his paper delivery, concluding with the black newspaper ink spiraling down there drain. There’s also a little nod to Rear Window and the Antonioni film Blow-Up as Thorndyke’s assistant tries to clear his name. And, a suggestion from Hitchcock, a reference to The Birds as Thorndyke is swarmed by pigeons, all of whom shit all over him.

The jokes come fast and wild in this one. There are meta jokes like when the camera is creeping up through the woods to a window in familiar horror movie POV shot, but then it gets too close and crashes through the window into a dinner party, surprising all the guests. There are people responding to scary music cues. There opening scene at the airport is the falsely intense opening scene you get in a lot of thrillers and horror films, and when Thorndyke finally exits the airport, he comments on it: “What a dramatic airport!”

As far as Young Frankenstein goes, I’m pretty obsessed with the Frankenstein story. The monster is possibly my favorite character in fiction, and I will watch pretty much any Frankenstein related film, good or bad. And trust me, there are some really bad ones out there. But that’s certainly not the case with this one, which of course satirizes the classic Universal Frankenstein films, which are unquestionably the greatest Frankenstein films.

Young Frankenstein follows fairly closely the story of the first two Universal films, Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein, borrowing occasionally from the later entries in the series. And it is the reverence to the source material that makes this film work so well. When it comes to Frankenstein and comedy, Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein is the gold standard, and I have often heard it said that the film worked so well because the horror was played straight. The monsters aren’t silly. You don’t need them to be. If the monsters just do their job of being monsters, then Abbott and Costello can carry the comedy. And it works brilliantly. But we’ll get to that particular film later. 

Young Frankenstein amps up the comedy quite a bit, but still so much is played straight, which makes the jokes work so much better. The sets look perfect. In fact most of the equipment Gene Wilder’s Dr. Frankenstein uses in the film is the same equipment used in the Universal films. Also, the film is shot in black and white and lit perfectly to emulate those original movies. In fact, were you to describe the plot scene by scene, there’s really only one scene that betrays that it’s a comedy. Most of the comedy comes from Brooks’ trademark one-liners, site-gags, slapstick moments and 4th wall breaking. 

The one outright comedic scene may be the best known in the film: when Dr. Frankenstein holds a demonstration to allow other scientists to see his Creature in action, they put on a song and dance number, “Puttin’ on the Ritz”. It’s just the right level of silly at just the right moment. If the whole movie was this way, it wouldn’t work, and yet if the scene was absent, it probably wouldn’t be quite as iconic. But Brooks (and co-writer Gene Wilder) knew how to balance these things.

The silly dance number only works because Peter Boyle is so perfect as the Monster. He manages to get subtle moments of pathos across with the smallest facial expressions. In fact, he probably portrays the Creature better than most of the actors who acted in the original Universal films, other than Karloff of course. The moment when he grasps at butterflies is heartbreaking. And his scene with the little girl at the well and the playground, referencing the famous scene with the girl by the pond in the original film is sweet and scary and funny in quick succession.

Obviously Gene Wilder is a big fan of Frankenstein as well. This was his idea and he wrote the original draft of the script which he then expanded upon with Brooks. So it comes as no surprise that Wilder is brilliant as Dr. Frankenstein (”It’s pronounced ‘Fronkensteen’!”) It is certainly one of his best performances. His ability to move from perfectly calm to completely unhinged in seconds is never put to better use than it is here. (Note: I actually wrote the bulk of this article several weeks ago, before Gene Wilder’s passing. But I am glad I am able to publish this now, as a small tribute to his comedic brilliance. He was truly one of the greatest comedic actors of all time, and nowhere is that more evident than in this film.)

Beyond Young Frankenstein being a comedy in the modern sense of laugh out loud humor, it’s also a comedy in the traditional sense, in that it is not a tragedy. And even though the jokes are hilarious, that might be the secret gift Young Frankenstein gives to the world: just this once, both Dr. Frankenstein and his creation live happily ever after. No one must be punished. And we all know that the conventions of gothic horror and horror film in general typically require that monsters must be punished, whether they have committed a crime or not and certainly hubristic people playing at being God must be punished. We accept this and agree to it. But deep down, we all want them to win. We want the Doctor to be rewarded for his outlandish accomplishments and we want the Monster to live on in his innocence. Which of course is why Universal kept bringing him back to life for another film. But just this once it’s nice to see them both happily survive to the closing credits.