September 25th 2014. Pick of the Day.
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I'm gonna do my best to pretend this day is significant in some manner beyond Derek Jeter's farewell as player in the stadium he arguably built. I'll ease the sorrow by imagining the film version of his career. Does Tom Sizemore have a kid who acts?
Today's lone series is Chelsea Classics at the BowTie Chelsea Cinemas. Let's get to the goods;
Film Forum
ROME OPEN CITY (1945) Dir; Roberto Rossellini
THE CONFORMIST (1970) Dir; Bernardo Bertolucci
BowTie Chelsea Cinemas
THE BREAKFAST CLUB (1985) Dir; John Hughes
Today's Pick? Over the course of two-plus decades that have slowly deprived me of my youth and decayed my adolescent ebullience, or so I've been told, I've come across countless items of film literature that regard the period from 1980-89 as a vacuous dead zone, a money muck patch separating the fawned-over New Hollywood of the 70's and the indie insurrection of the 90's, the latter a slate-cleaning of yet one more epoch prematurely declared the death of cinema. Numerous exhibits have been entered into evidence to support this condemnation, all of which have now not only found their defenders, but indeed, their connoisseurs. Joel Silver. Simpson & Bruckheimer. Guber & Peters. Cannon films. Carolco films. Madonna films. The swift rise to prominence of the "Concept" picture. Mike Ovitz, CAA, and the dominance of the "Package" Picture. Stallone. Schwarzenegger. And, of course, the Brat Pack. Sure, a lot can be said about the detrimental nature of these works, how they contributed to the infantilization of our culture, of once-prized complex narrative's reduction, said dumbing the new vanguard both embraced and ensured.
However:
It was also the decade of Gilliam's TIME BANDITS and BRAZIL and BARON MUNCHAUSEN, of Lynch's ELEPHANT MAN and DUNE and BLUE VELVET, of Weir's GALLIPOLI and LIVING DANGEROUSLY and WITNESS, of Mann's MANHUNTER and Friedkin's TO LIVE AND DIE IN L.A., of Cox's REPO MAN and SID & NANCY and the Coens' BLOOD SIMPLE and RAISING ARIZONA, of Scorsese's KING OF COMEDY and COLOR OF MONEY, of Jarmusch's STRANGER THAN PARADISE and DOWN BY LAW, of Spike Lee's SCHOOL DAZE and DO THE RIGHT THING, of Burton's BIG ADVENTURE and BEETLEJUICE, of Cronenberg's VIDEODROME and THE FLY and DEAD RINGERS. Of Forman's AMADEUS. Of Babenco's IRONWEED. Of Rosenberg's POPE OF GREENWICH VILLAGE. And yeah, of Carpenter's ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK, THE THING, CHRISTINE, STARMAN, and BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA. The 80's also boasted the Magic Summer, 1982, the genre geek equiv of the Academy's gilded 1939, which not only offered the aforementioned VIDEODROME and THE THING, but also Henson's DARK CRYSTAL, Milius' CONAN, Lisberger's TRON, Meyer's TREK II, Scott's BLADE RUNNER, Spielberg's E.T. & POLTERGEIST, and Miller's ROAD WARRIOR. Fuck with that, medares ye.
I've long made the case for tonight's Pick though, a film that exists somewhere between the worst instincts of market exploitation and genuine soul-probing truth. Such is the CV of 80's teen tycoon John Hughes, he of the Dave Barry suburban pith and the Coca-Cola pitchman's savvy. He could fill in the blanks and collect a paycheck with a script like VACATION, he could deliver something deeper, truer, (dare I suggest more Sturgesesque? Sturgesian? The hell is the proper descriptive surname for Preston Sturges?) as PLANES, TRAINS & AUTOMOBILES. His is a maddening oeuvre to explore, because marking twain in the shallows is always a thankless gig. Until you find said depth, and then you may travel into broader waters.
There are few films from my youth that retain the power to return me to it. Redford's ORDINARY PEOPLE, Richert's A NIGHT IN THE LIFE OF JIMMY REARDON. Here is one that absolutley encapsulates it, amberizes it. And I don't care if that's not a word. It is now. To its detractors, whose numbers are legion, who serve as literal flesh and blood rep for Paul Gleason's "Dick", it's no more than fluff, pap, a cash-grab targeting the 80's teen, its maker no more than observer of behavior, recorder of jargon, ultimate sell-out of the tribe he claimed to rep.
To those who say in this specific case "nay", who think there is no more weight or depth or consequence one might carry forth into their adult life having seen this film upon its release, I offer simply this example, the scene where Ally Sheedy's "basket case" laments the death of the heart once one's teenage years are abandoned. Her new fellow compatriot dismissively, disdainfully offers this cut: who cares?
I defy you to feel nothing when she responds: I care.
John Hughes' THE BREAKFAST CLUB screens tonight as part of the Chelsea Classics series at the BowTie Chelsea Cinemas. You're a neo-maxie zoom dweebie.
For more info on these and all NYC's classic film screenings in September '14 click on the interactive calendar on the upper right hand side of the page. For the monthly overview and other audio tomfoolery check out the podcast, and follow me on SoundCloud! For reviews of contemporary cinema and my streaming habits (keep it clean!) check out my Letterboxd page. And be sure to follow me on both Facebook, where I provide further info and esoterica on the rep film circuit and star birthdays, and Twitter, where I provide a daily feed for the day's screenings and other blathery. Back tomorrow with a brand new Pick, til then safe, sound, make sure the next knucklehead is too.
-Joe Walsh
P. S. We're swiftly returning to the winter climate, and believe it or not some of our fellow NY'ers have still yet to be made whole in the wake of the 2012 storm. Should you be feeling charitable please visit the folks at OccupySandy.net, follow their hammer-in-hand efforts to restore people's lives, and donate/volunteer if you have the inclination and availability. Be a collective mensch, Stockahz!
