THE UNPRODUCED WORK OF JOHN HUGHES PART 1: "TICKETS" (1996)

“TICKETS”
WRITTEN BY JOHN HUGHES
DRAFT JULY 26, 1996

I never thought that I would actually see this day.

Dear readers, I am so excited at this time because I have just finished reading a screenplay written by John Hughes. Now, I am certain that you are wondering why a John Hughes screenplay would cause me to be inspired to compose a new posting for your reading pleasure. Well, simply stated, the screenplay in question happens not to be one that provided the basis for any of the films of which we are all so familiar. No. This screenplay happens to be one that was, and still remains, unproduced!!!

Reading an unproduced John Hughes screenplay is akin to hearing unreleased and bootlegged music from one of my favorite artists…say, someone like Prince, who is so prolific and has amassed an amount of music so large that the public will most likely never, ever hear all of it. John Hughes’ status as an extremely prolific writer has been long documented and it seems that he quite possibly wrote a considerable amount of material that would, for practical reasons, never see the light of day. Frankly, I still have no idea of how much Hughes wrote throughout his life but based upon accounts revealed in Writer David Kamp’s outstanding profile on the passing and legacy of John Hughes, published a year ago in Vanity Fair magazine, Hughes was a writer until the day he died...literally. He apparently carried a small Moleskine notebook with him everywhere and reportedly had one on his person when he passed away from a fatal heart attack while taking a leisurely walk on the early morning streets of Manhattan in August 2009.

As discussed in that article’s interviews with Hughes’ two sons, James and John III, the family discovered over 300 Moleskine notebooks along with filled computer discs of material in his offices. Since this period, where some re-evaluation of his work and much deserved appreciation (like his posthumous honor at the 2010 Academy Awards) has been noted, there have been some rumblings about any old screenplays he wrote that may make for strong cinematic entertainment now. At first, it was looking like a comedy entitled “The Grigsbys Go Broke,” would actually be produced but currently, it seems as if those plans have fallen through. Beyond that, here and there on the internet, some scraps of information have been discovered regarding Hughes’ unproduced work. Through some, let’s say…technological means, very recently I obtained a copy of Hughes’ screenplay for a film entitled “Tickets,” the story of a small group of people sitting in line on a brutally frigid Chicago winters night as they wait to obtain free tickets for a band’s farewell concert when the ticket booth opens the following morning.

For the purposes of this written piece for Savage Cinema, I have not given a star rating as it is a screenplay and I feel it to be unfair to really compare this written work at exactly the same level as one of Hughes’ completed films. If John Hughes were to have made “Tickets,” who knows exactly how much would have changed, been added, deleted and modified as he worked with whomever he cast into these roles. Hughes once remarked that a script is essentially a blueprint, but as so many of his actors have made testaments towards over the years, Hughes’ blueprints were uncommonly strong. As for “Tickets,” I read the entire 120-page screenplay rapidly and entirely during the 24 hours after having received it. While all of the John Hughes trademarks were present from his special brand of literate comedy, some Chaplin-esque slapstick, the story’s time span of one evening and the convention of having a small band of characters lumped together and engaged in all manner of conversation, “Tickets” did surprise me by presenting a much darker, tougher, meaner, and considerably sadder affair than his classic films. It was a provocative read and one that truly made me ponder what might have been.

“Tickets” begins shortly after 9 P.M. on a brutally cold night on the Northside of Chicago. Hughes sets the stage in front of what he describes as a “union auditorium built in the twenties, abandoned in the fifties, revived in the eighties as a live music venue.” As the nearby L tracks habitually squeak and squeal, we first meet 30 year old TOM BROOKES, as he sets up his spot on line, complete with an aluminum chaise lounge, cooler and trusty Discman. Tom will soon be joined by the young and diminutive LESLIE HAYES, who arrives with her own chair, toolbox of supplies and is dressed in enormously mountainous clothing for warmth as well as to hide her physique and age.

The shy ASA MARWICK and the more aggressive and athletic OMAR AUGUSTINE, two 17-year-old boys from the wealthy Northern suburb of Winnetka, amble upon the scene complete in fashionably matching ski wear, toiletries, lantern, blankets and a small grill. The older beyond his years Vietnam veteran Hughes describes as a “middle aged, ex-flower child” named MR. 66 (as in the year 1966) is next to arrive and promptly commanders Tom’s chaise lounge, cooler and food, as Tom has momentarily stepped away from his space in line to find some cement blocks to brace his dilapidating chair. Other minor characters, including two unnamed couples, a police officer and the unctuously wealthy Lexus driving MAX CEDRIC and his girlfriend WALLIS CHAMBERS float in and out of the story as well.

Throughout the night, friendships will be formed and broken, prejudices and personal sensibilities will be tested and even one life will be lost as all of these characrets brave and battle the coldness of the weather and even moreso, themselves.

At first, it is easy to make comparisons between “Tickets” and Hughes’ monumental classic “The Breakfast Club” (1985) and during the first third or so of “Tickets,” certain similarities pop out at you. In addition to the story’s conceit and structure, the character of Leslie Hayes, at first, seems to function as a more updated version of Ally Sheedy’s “basket case” character while Mr. 66 functions as the film’s primary antagonist like Judd Nelson’s John Bender. Yet, as the story continues those similarities end as the story plunges into deeper and darker thematic waters and also, Leslie and Mr. 66, respectively take on some surprising, and in the case of Mr. 66, some undeniably tragic turns.

As I previously stated, “Tickets” definitely contained some surprises and what surprised me most was the sense of profound sadness that permeated the piece and still lingers when I think of it now. John Hughes’ films from the 1980’s and 1990’s depicted a world, while truthful, purposefully existed and functioned as modern day fables and wish fulfillment fantasies. It was the world as Hughes saw it but also, it was the world he wished that it could be.

“Tickets,” on the other hand, feels like a film that presents the world a bit more like it really is. Now I am not suggesting that John Hughes wrote something of the equivalent as the most wrenching drama but for what we know of John Hughes’ work, I was staggered to see him reach this far while also remaining familiar. In fact, “Tickets” merges itself very closely with two extremely little known films wich arrived near the very end of Hughes’ film career, the barely released 1998 drama “Reach The Rock” (written and produced by Hughes and directed by William Ryan) and 2001’s “New Port South” (produced by Hughes, written by Hughes’ son James and directed by Kyle Cooper).

“Tickets,” while having many moments of humor, and passages of Hughes’ trademark slapstick and peerless dialogue, is a story about profound endings as it depicts the end of a friendship, the end of a band, then end of a theater and Hughes even goes as far as to end the life of one his story’s primary characters. The story features crippling regrets, enveloping cynicism and brutal failures as well. The name of the band is never mentioned, therefore suggesting that there is much more at stake than a farewell concert. In fact, the screenplay is not even about concert tickets. As Omar states to Asa at the story’s outset, “Tickets are the raison d'etre for a social experience.”

And what a social experience it is as Hughes creates a microcosm of society on this long winter’s night from extremely wealthy to two characters that are homeless. The character of Omar is notable as it features a non-Caucasian character (he’s Persian) in one of the primary roles. Although this draft is dated July 26, 1996, it contains snatches of dialogue and attitudes that are astoundingly up to the minute in regards to issues of class warfare and socio-economic politics. The battle between the 99% and the 1% is waged, sometimes ferociously, through Hughes’ stinging dialogue.

I think it is fitting Hughes set this story in the bitter winter of an equally bitter world as the story deals with the re-gentrification of a neighborhood into something much more homogenized and lacking of characters, color and soul. Beyond that, it is a world where integrity and compassion is in short supply and empty hearted big money trumps humanity itself. More than any other of his released films, Hughes may be suggesting, more overtly, that despite our differences (age, ethnic, economic status), we are all huddled together in a cold, dark world and no matter how desperately we try to ignore our closeness through cynical apathy, we just can’t or else our collective humanity will painfully suffer. This aspect is presented mostly through the character of Tom Brookes, who wants nothing more than to be left in solitude upon his island of a chaise lounge and is often shown frustratingly attempting to sleep as the other characters argue. As he states, after yet another intense encounter with Mr. 66, “I'm a thirty year old who sits on line for free tickets. That's where I begin and where I end. I'm not a member of the Society of Pavement People.” Yet, for some inexplicable reason, Tom reluctantly but continually rises to the aid of others, whether covering for three underage companions from the police, calming a drunken and increasingly belligerent Mr. 66 and even fighting a wealthy blueblood in order to protect his ticket line companions.

But Hughes also suggests a sense of decidedly hard fought hope combined with personal determination and resilience. A lovely passage during a lengthy quiet courtship of sorts from Leslie to Asa contains some of the screenplay’s finest dialogue as the two discuss the feelings that exist at four in the morning as well as the potential trajectories of their respective lives. As the fullness of Leslie’s intensely sad life comes into complete revelation, she offers this admonition to her new friend in regards to her overall Fate, which is, “To a live a long, long time, leave a lot of happy kids, and die clean.”

Now, not everything works in “Tickets.” There is another character simply known as THE BOX. It is a character that resides inside of a refrigerator box, speaks no dialogue and is always unseen, aside from the flap of the box opening and closing. While this is good for a few sight gags and clever reaction shots, I cannot fathom what tis character served to the story as a whole. I could easily see the complete expulsion of this character and it would not change the tone of “Tickets” whatsoever.

The character of Omar is another missed opportunity as he carries such weight for so long and then, Hughes just has him exit the story and there’s essentially not much more to him. Mostly, the success or failure of Mr. 66, and one hallucinatory sequence in particular, would really depend upon who was cast in the role and how strongly the material was interpreted visually. Mr. 66 alters from dangerously comedic to tragic on a dime and it seems that there just needed to be a little something more to make the transitions more fluid and convincing.

But, those flaws aside, “Tickets’ struck me as being a decidedly more honest work than John Hughes was releasing at that time during his career. It could be concluded that Hughes, who wrote this film around the same period as he was toiling away writing and producing entertaining but completely vanilla and to a degree, uninspired remakes of classic Disney movies, desired a return to his creative spirit. Frankly, “Tickets” reads as the kind of film that made so many millions of viewers fall in love with him in the first place.

I often wondered what is career would have been like if “She’s Having A Baby” (1988) was a large box office hit. Would he have made the terrific but albatross of “Home Alone” (1990) at all? Would the trajectory of his career been altered? Would he have remained in Hollywood longer or would he have exited as he did regardless? All questions to which we will absolutely never know the answers but I do have a strong feeling that a film like “Tickets” is where Hughes’ creative heart rested most proudly.

John Hughes once stated that it was the through the making of “The Breakfast Club” where he realized how much he enjoyed working on a film that possessed a serious core and that the experience of making a film like that was something he had been chasing ever since he completed that film. “Tickets” seems to be an honest attempt to try and produce a work that is entertaining and meaningful. “Tickets” is a film I would so proudly pay a ticket to see.

And you know, if I were able, it is a film that I would be proud to bring to life in Hughes’ honor.

SAVAGE CINEMA'S COMING ATTRACTIONS FOR NOVEMBER 2011

We are reaching that time of the year when our cineplexes will be flooded with highly anticipated new films, released at such a rate that it will always be difficult to keep up with them. In many respects for me, that is actually part of the fun! As long as the films I am interested in seeing the most are doing well at the box office, that only affords me more time to actually get to them as life is so very full.

1. I am anticipating that Savage Cinema will be quite busy this month. For instance, I am already composing a review for Martin Scorsese's documentary "George Harrison: Living In The Material World" and this month will see the theatrical release of his brand spankin' new 3D children's epic "Hugo" (of which I will view in 2D).

2. I am also in the process of writing a feature that I hope will as much of a surprise to you as it was for me, especially as it concerns the work of John Hughes. Stay tuned for that one...

3. I am also expecting a much desired cinematic arrival as I really, really, really, at long last hope to see and review for you Cameron Crowe's "Pearl Jam Twenty" and Kevin Smith's "Red State."

4. Clint Eastwood continues his incredible prolific pace with "J. Edgar" and I could not be happier for the return of Director Alexander Payne with "The Descendants," his first film since the masterful "Sideways" seven years ago.

5. On the independent film front, I am keeping my eagle eyes out for two highly acclaimed psychological thrillers, "Take Shelter" and "Martha Marcy Mae Marlene."

6. And yes...there is just something touching about seeing trailers for "The Muppets." Who knows? I just may have to get myself to that one as well.

It's a lot to plan for certainly but I truly hope to be able to fully deliver.

I'll see you when the house lights go down...

SAVAGE CINEMA REVISITS-THE HALLOWEEN EDITION PART 3: "AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON" (1981)

For this final segment of my special Halloween Edition of “Savage Cinema Revisits,” I am excited to shine my personal spotlight upon a film that has long earned a treasured place in my cinematic heart. In fact, I am so excited to share this title with you that I feel that this installment may be considered to be the debut feature of a new series I would like to begin on this site. Think of it like a “Pilot Episode” of a new series.

The great Roger Ebert has inspired me once again as I am happy to announce the arrival of “SAVAGE CINEMA’S FAVORITE MOVIES.” This is a self-explanatory series, which owes a most reverential nod to Mr. Ebert’s “Great Movies” series and book compilations.

The following posting is simply a love letter to a film that has enraptured and frightened me from the very first time I saw it, back when I was 13 years old. I grandly present this piece to you with the hopes you embrace it for this Halloween season and also, for all time!

“AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON” (1981)
Written and Directed by John Landis

“They killed Kermit!”

That cryptic statement was announced to me, at the age of 12, by my then 17-year-old cousin Adam some time after he saw “An American Werewolf In London” in the summer of 1981. To this statement, all I could utter was a bemused, “What?!” to which Adam again, dryly and slyly stated, “They killed Kermit.”

If filmmaker John Landis were only to have ever made the comedy classics “National Lampoon’s Animal House” (1978) and “The Blues Brothers” (1980), he would still exist as one of my favorite Directors as both of those films rank as my top two favorite comedies. Yet, as you all know, I give the genre of horror a wide berth and have no enjoyment in willingly placing myself into situations where I would become terribly frightened. So, it should be of no surprise to you that despite my love for the films of John Landis, there was no way at all that I was about to find a way to see “An American Werewolf In London,” Landis’ entry into the horror film genre. But…I had to admit that my curiosity was definitely piqued by Adam’s remark. What did he mean by “They killed Kermit!” anyway? Honestly, while Landis’ films had an anarchistic streak that I adored, I didn’t fathom that he would go so far as to actually commit Muppet homicide on screen! Even so, I stayed away…but I made myself a mental note to investigate in the future.

That future arrived the following summer when the film made its premiere upon a pay television channel called “ON TV.” Adam actually happened to be over at my house on the night of the premiere. I felt that within the safety of my own home, a much smaller screen combined with Adam’s company, viewing “An American Werewolf In London” would be an experience I could handle much more easily than within the confines of a large movie theater with 70mm screens and Dolby sound systems. So…emulating the experience of a movie theater, as I often did during those years, I dimmed the lights in the basement and we began to watch.

John Landis’ “An American Werewolf In London” begins with sights of the chilly Northern England countryside at dusk set to Bobby Vinton’s melancholy version of “Blue Moon.” The camera pans downwards as a sheep farmer’s truck, loaded with sheep, deposits two American backpackers on the road, and directs them to the town of East Proctor with the warning to stick to the road and stay clear of the moors. After the farmer drives away, we officially meet David Kessler (David Naughton) and Jack Goodman (Griffin Dunne), two college students on a walking/hitch hiking tour of Europe with hopes to complete their journey in Italy.

As night begins to fall and the air grows more frigid, David and Jack happen upon a small pub that carries the grotesque moniker, “The Slaughtered Lamb.” Ambling inside for warmth and possibly some nourishment, the locals instantly become unnerved by their presence signaling David and Jack to feel the same in return. During their brief stay, Jack notices a five pointed star drawn upon one of the tavern’s walls and easily identifies it as a pentangle, the mark of the Wolfman. When Jack makes a lighthearted inquiry as to the purpose of the pentangle’s existence in the pub, the once boisterous room grows ominously quiet. Sensing that they should simply leave the premises, David and Jack exit The Slaughtered Lamb with the grim reminder to stay away from the moors and “beware of the moon.”

David and Jack race away from the pub, get themselves caught in heavy rainfall and accidentally leave the main road. They soon find themselves lost upon the moors and are gripped with fright once they hear a disturbingly anguished howl. The young men are suddenly and savagely attacked, Jack Goodman is killed and their attacker is murdered by the townspeople who have come searching for the travelers.

Three weeks later, David awakens in a London hospital in the care of the kindly yet stern Dr. Hirsch (John Woodvine) and also finds himself instantly attracted to Nurse Alex Price (the husky voiced and eternally sexy Jenny Agutter) who soon reciprocates David’s affections. Yet, all is not well for David as he not only mourns the death of his best friend, his memories of the attack, which he believes to have been from a wolf, are not taken seriously. David is soon plagued with disturbing hallucinations and increasingly grisly nightmares. Everything culminates with the apparitional arrival of the dead (or “undead”) and decomposing Jack, who informs David that he was indeed bitten by a werewolf and that he must commit suicide before he becomes a werewolf within two days and embarks upon his own murder spree across London.

I sat and watched “An American Werewolf In London” completely mesmerized and pinned to my seat. Was I frightened? Absolutely, as John Landis consistently kept my sensibilities discombobulated with one shock after another. I was deeply involved with the overall story but there was no way to simply settle in and relax, which was made all the more difficult as John Landis created a horror film that also succeeded grandly as a comedy. The laughs allowed time to recover from the scares but the moment you settled into a laugh, Landis pulls the rug out from under you once again with another jolt to the system.

All of the werewolf attacks (including one virtuoso and beautifully filmed sequence set deep within London’s tube system) are treated with the appropriate level of terror and gore. The film’s love story between David and Alex, coupled with the inevitability of David’s fate, has a grounding sense of tragedy. Even the film’s dream sequences continue to impress and deliver more than their share of shivers. As David recuperates in the hospital and also when he moves into the flat of Nurse Alex Price, and begins his inevitable descent into becoming a werewolf, Landis thrusts us inside of his darkest paranoia. These are illustrated in the form of nasty, graphically violent nightmares that jarringly hide inside of other surprising nightmares.

Yet again, Landis somehow has figured out how to mine this material for comedy without ever sacrificing the horror elements. The continuing visitations from the decomposing Jack Goodman while illustrating David Kessler’s slippery grip upon his sanity and the mounting doom of his upcoming metamorphosis, simultaneously allows Jack’s sardonic wit to remain fully intact, even as his skin is falling from his skull. Landis even brilliantly sets one sequence between David and the six “undead” victims from his one night killing spree inside of a London porn movie theater that is screening “See You Next Wednesday,” Landis’ constant in-joke within his movies. In a sequence that is deliriously Monty Python-esque, Landis has these decomposing corpses offer a host of morbid suggestions as to how David could effectively commit suicide, thus ending the werewolf’s bloodline and allowing all of the undead to ascend onwards. It is a darkly funny sequence that supremely serves the story and again, keeps us unprepared for the horror that will soon return.

With “An American Werewolf In London,” John Landis created and mastered one of the most amazing cinematic balancing acts I have ever had the pleasure to witness. It is a film, that STILL makes me ask the question: “How did he do that????”

I loved how skillfully layered John Landis’ original screenplay is. It not only encompasses the suggested wit and concept of Mark Twain’s A Connecticut Yankee In King Arthur’s Court (which Nurse Alex is seen reading at one point), it also references the classic Hollywood horror films and iconography of Vincent Price, Lon Chaney and Bela Lugosi and somehow, Landis makes the experience of his film completely his own.

Landis’ usage of classic pop songs is particularly dazzling. This film was the exact place where and when I first heard Van Morrison’s “Moondance,” which is played during David and Alex’s love scene. But moreso, Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Bad Moon Rising” serves to deepen the oncoming doom of David Kessler’s life while Landis uses no less than three versions of “Blue Moon” (performed by the aforementioned Bobby Vinton as well as Sam Cooke and The Marcels, respectively) to underscore the inherent tragedy of the story as a whole.

And how about the film’s controversial ending! While, of course, I certainly will not reveal the particulars here, Landis gives us an ending that is the definition of abrupt, and therefore yet another shock to keep us unbalanced. The movie just…stops and plunges straight into the end credit scroll without a moment to breathe or process anything that had just been witnessed. As Landis has unapologetically stated over the years, “The story’s over. The movie’s over.” And that’s that. There are no signals to the audience that we have arrived at a conclusion. No pulling back of the camera to reveal the carnage strewn streets of Piccadilly Circus. No fade to black. Just a smash cut from image to credits because the movie’s over. It was an audacious choice in a film that is filled front to back with audacious choices.

But there is absolutely no way to write about “An American Werewolf In London” and not mention the film’s most iconic sequence, David’s transformation into a werewolf. Believe me dear readers, if you have never seen this sequence before, it is a showstopper. If you have seen this sequence before, it holds up masterfully. The sequence features the revolutionary makeup effects of Rick Baker and in our age of CGI overkill, I truly believe that new filmmakers should be forced to watch, re-watch and re-watch this sequence over and over again to understand that sometimes, good old fashioned handmade techniques are indeed the best way to go and should never be threatened to become a lost art. Just watch at how the scene completely serves the entire story as well as the character of David Kessler. Watch how the makeup depicts the face elongating into a lupine shape, the hair bristling and growing into matted fur, how the bones crack as arms, legs and hands change into werewolf form, all the while hearing David’s pained, anguished screams and howls. It is outstanding work that just makes you want to sit even closer to the screen even as you are terrified.

“An American Werewolf In London” was a game changer for the genre of horror films in terms of its storytelling, direction and definitely its makeup effects. Face it, we would not even have Michael Jackson’s iconic music video for “Thriller” (which John Landis directed as Jackson’s request) if “An American Werewolf In London” did not exist. But, at its very best, the film does not just keep altering your perceptions and expectations. It upends them. In fact, the film possesses the same anarchistic spirit of Landis’ comedies by playing with the genre conventions so much that it transcends the horror genre to the point where it completely raises the bar for what a horror film can actually be.

So, for the uninitiated, did they really kill Kermit? Now, why would I ruin anything like that for you, dear readers? See “An American Werewolf In London” and find out for yourselves.

Happy Halloween to you and let us all celebrate this masterwork from John Landis, one of Savage Cinema’s favorite movies!

I AIN'T SAYIN' SHE'S A GOLD DIGGER: a review of "Bad Teacher"

“BAD TEACHER”
Screenplay Written by Lee Eisenberg and Gene Stupnitsky
Directed by Jake Kasdan
** (two stars)

In my recent review of Director Seth Gordon’s “Horrible Bosses,” I remarked that while I enjoyed the film overall, it was a slow going experience as the first third or so left me extremely underwhelmed. I suppose that with “Bad Teacher,” the latest comedy from Director Jake Kasdan, I had the complete opposite reaction as the first third of the film left me howling with consist laughter and then, the wheels began to spin tiredly, the jokes fell flatter and by the film’s conclusion, the entire escapade had completely run out of comedic steam. Such a shame as this film, like “Horrible Bosses,” had such terrific potential to be a lewd, crude, nasty and yet outrageously inventive R rated comedy instead of the lewd, crude, nasty yet pedestrian, middle of the road, and completely non-threatening R rated comedy it turned out to be.

Cameron Diaz stars as Elizabeth Halsey, a surly, unmotivated and downright mean seventh grade teacher at John Adams Middle School (affectionately known as “JAMS”) who, at the film’s start, is happily exiting the world of teaching to become the wife of her uber-wealthy boyfriend. Life takes a sharp turn as the boyfriend ditched Elizabeth due to her unloving, greedy demeanor which forced her to return to JAMS as a seventh grade teacher who now arrives to school perpetually hung over, or stoned or both and “teaches” the class solely through feature films like “Stand and Deliver,” “Lean On Me” and “Dangerous Minds.”

Endlessly conspiring to exit her personal hell via catching another unsuspecting wealthy man, Elizabeth decided that what she needs in order to compete with other women for her marital golden goose is…a $10,000 breast implant procedure. Yet, without a personal sugar daddy to assist with the funds, Elizabeth takes it upon herself to obtain money by any means necessary. This includes, but is not limited to, stealing the school’s recyclable materials for cash, pocketing parents’ tutoring payments without ever intending to tutor a soul, embezzling a portion of the school’s Car Wash event, in which Elizabeth scores major funds due to her scantily clad physique which sexually massages every car in the lot to even stealing the state test answers to ensure her class will receive the state’s highest test scores, thus affording her with a $5700 bonus payday.

Soon, it seems as if Elizabeth’s proverbial ship has arrived at John Adams Middle School in the form of the new, and very wealthy, Substitute Teacher Scott Delacorte (Justin Timberlake). Unfortunately, Scott nurses a crush upon Elizabeth’s teaching rival, the chirpy Amy Squirrel (Lucy Punch), who is determined to expose Elizabeth for the fraud she is.

Certainly, all of this is well and good for a ribald R rated comedy and I am telling you, dear readers, Kasdan’s “Bad Teacher” had me from the first frame with it’s opening credit montage of teachers set to Rockpile’s classic power pop track “Teacher, Teacher.” The pace was appropriately rapid, all of the characters were introduced and set up with great and affectionate humor and the well timed and cheerfully vulgar jokes, at which I laughed frequently and loudly, were hurled at the screen in a sunshine blast that recalled Kasdan’s wonderful teen comedy “Orange County” (2002).

All was going so very well for about the first third of the film or so and then, the entire proceedings began to travel south once we were subjected to an unfortunate and needless sonic boom of a flatulence joke that simply sucked the air out of the comedic room. For me, it was difficult enough for the film to recover after that misstep but then, the wheels of the plot began to grind its wheels, the characters never extended themselves past their introductions and soon, I realized that “Bad Teacher” was not simply a series of jokes in search of a movie, it was entirely a one joke movie: she’s a teacher and she’s bad. That’s it. There’s nothing else. And the film beat that one joke deeply into the ground.

Everything happens in the ways you would expect to happen, including Elizabeth’s (slight) softening as the film progresses and frankly, that sort of thing just makes my heart fall into disappointment. While I understand that Jake Kasdan is a more populist filmmaker who certainly wants to have his films succeed financially (which this film did in spades when it was released this summer), he has also been so devilishly smart enough to understand characters, their motivations and even how to develop those characters past their archetypes. Kasdan has shown this impressive skill over and again through with debut feature “Zero Effect” (1998), the aforementioned “Orange County” and mostly through his frequently work with Judd Apatow on both of his “Freaks And Geeks” and “Undeclared” series and the excellent music biopic satire “Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story” (2007). Yet for “Bad Teacher,” none of those skills were on display to the level at which Kasdan has achieved in the past.

Justin Timberlake, Jason Segal, who portrays a sweetly sardonic gym teacher who is attracted to Elizabeth, and the wonderful John Michael Higgins, who portrays the school’s Principal are all wasted in three roles that are criminally underwritten. Phyllis Smith (from NBC’s version of “The Office”) is also under-utilized in her role as the indecisive and mousy teacher who nervously befriends Elizabeth. While the raven haired Lucy Punch does indeed make an impression as Amy Squirrel, ever her sheer comic energy is undone and hamstrung by the predictable screenplay which, of course, has her character grow increasingly unhinged as Elizabeth escapes one consequence after another.

And yet, I feel that the film has an even larger problem in Cameron Diaz.

Diaz is an actress I have admired for a very long time and while I have not enjoyed every film in which she has appeared or every performance she has given, I applaud her for not always taking the easy way out when it comes to choosing projects and filmmakers to collaborate with. Yet, this time, she struck me as being a bit lazy. Certainly, she is raunchy enough to take on this role with a sense of relish but frankly, there’s really not much for her to do. While she sets up her character nicely when she states that she thought that she entered the career of teaching for the right reasons, “summers off and no accountability,” there’s really nowhere else for this character to go. Yes, this is definitely a screenplay problem and I understand that Diaz did not write this material herself but did she really have to strut around the screen clearly showing that this project exists as not much more than a “paycheck movie” for her? Diaz plays this character yet she never becomes this character. I even had problems remembering what her character’s name even was throughout the film. That speaks to how little of an impression she made with “Bad Teacher.”

There is no sense of danger to the character of Elizabeth Halsey and there fore, no sense of danger or vicious edge to the film as a whole. It’s all so trite and safe and like “Horrible Bosses,” the film just did not understand that simply saying nasty words and doing nasty things is not inherently funny. Without a real strong story and context, all of the vulgarity falls flat in that vanilla fashion that mars so many would be “edgy” R rated comedies these days. It seems to me that the filmmakers perhaps needed to study something like Writer/Director Terry Zwigoff’s “Bad Santa” (2003). That film, if you remember, starred Billy Bob Thornton in a terrific performance as the maliciously misanthropic mall Santa Claus and Zwigoff created a rich and terribly hysterical nasty world filled with skuzzy characters that were complete and elevated the proceedings past the catchiness of that film’s title.

Whether Kasdan and his cast and crew enjoyed that film or not, none of that film’s dark comedic magic occurred with “Bad Teacher.” It’s not an awful film by any means, but again, it’s one that just didn’t try hard enough to be the risky, R rated game changer it could have been.

And you know, this may be a more than silly observation but I cannot help to mention that it did indeed cross my mind. Do we really need a representation of a teacher that will only fuel the profound misconceptions of those 1 per centers out there? I think not. But…if you are going to do it, then go for it and create an image and film experience that will keep all of those idiots up at night and the rest of us painfully holding our sides in collective laughter.

LIFE'S A MESS, DUDE: a review of "Terri"

“TERRI”
Screenplay Written by Patrick de Witt
Directed by Azazel Jacobs
*** ½ (three and a half stars)

For Terri Thompson, it certainly is.

Whenever I have been asked if I would like to take a trip back to my teenage years, perhaps via some sort of strange “Wayback Machine,” I always answer with a resounding “No.” As I have always said, my adolescence was not a tortured existence by any means. I had my share of good times and I now greatly appreciate the school I attended and the people I shared those formative years with more than ever. But that said, I was never comfortable in my own skin, a standard condition of the teenage experience, and therefore, that almost crushing insecurity is nothing I would ever wish to re-live. I have often written about how my love of music, writing and the films of John Hughes were essentially my high school survival guide. But, I have to admit that I wished that there was an adult I trusted enough and was close to enough that I felt that I could communicate my fears to and perhaps have gained a sense of perspective from as they have lived through what I was experiencing. As I watched Director Azazel Jacobs’ “Terri,” I wanted to be that protective, sympathetic adult for Terri Thompson. I empathized with him, not through any sense of maudlin theatrics, but because I just wanted to be able to tell him, as the current campaign states, that things will get better.

“Terri” stars Jacob Wysocki in the title role right at the point where he precariously teetering over the edge of an emotional downward spiral. Abandoned by his parents (who are never seen), Terri lives with, and is forced to care for, his cantankerous Uncle James (Creed Bratton), who is most likely ailing from Alzheimer’s disease. Terri is perpetually late for school, increasingly reluctant to participate in class activities and his grades are gradually slipping. He is constantly teased and bullied at school due to his girth and to make matters worse, Terri has taken to dressing himself in pajamas at almost all times, simply because “they’re comfortable on me.” And for the final blow, Terri houses an intense crush upon the cute and sexually curious and adventurous Heather (Olivia Crocicchia).

Sensing a series of red flags, Terri is called into the office Vice Principal Mr. Fitzgerald (the wonderful John C. Reilly), who quickly arranges for Terri to hold private meetings with him every Monday just for the two of them to talk and check in with each other. Terri begins to build an attachment to the oddly loquacious Fitzgerald, an attachment that is tested once he discovers that Fitzgerald regularly holds similar conferences with other troubled kids in school. Once assured that Fitzgerald does not see him or any of the other kids as “monsters” and that his attempts at building relationship with the student body outcasts are true, Terri and Mr. Fitzgerald embark upon a tentative friendship, which then spirals into new, tentative friendships with the abrasive Chad (Bridger Zadina) and a potential romance with Heather.

As I previously stated. Director Azazel Jacobs’ “Terri” is a sad little film. Not a depressing one by any means. Just a tenderly melancholic one, a feat that is accomplished not through any sort of contrived tragedy but through an autumnal atmosphere and mostly through the concerned and caring observations of its titular character during a pivotal period in his young life.

Jacobs utilizes a quiet, meditative approach to this overly familiar material of teen angst. It is more impressionistic and therefore, more poetic especially as Terri’s isolation in accentuates by the fact he and his Uncle live in a solitary house deep in the woods, for example. Another lovely sequence, featuring Terri and Mr. Fitzgerald roaming around inside of an empty high school on an early Saturday morning captured the ghostly magic of rummaging around a location that regularly houses so much bustling life as well as creating a sense of peacefulness inside of place that contains so much emotional turbulence.

I appreciated that Jacobs allowed his film to function with scant dialogue filled with appropriately awkward pauses and spaces as these are characters who are so troubled with finding the right things to say. I found it to be very fitting that the film’s sweetest and most delicate exchanges between Terri and Heather occur through written notes passed back and forth during their shared Home Economics class.

Jacobs pulls out all of the stops during an extended and terrific sequence late in the film, which essentially begins as Terri’s hoped for first date of sorts with Heather. His plans are rudely interrupted by the troubled Chad, who then not only refuses to leave Terri’s home but hopes to usurp Heather for himself via some pilfered alcohol. This stretch of the film, I found to be especially remarkable as these three kids are essentially left to emotionally fend for themselves…together. It is a sequence of dares and challenges, connections and painful embarrassments and I have to say that it nearly touched the neighborhood outskirts of John Hughes’ masterpiece “The Breakfast Club” (1985) as it had these three teenagers in an enclosed location all attempting to figure out what each one of them means to the other as well as themselves. So much was accomplished with so very little and I applaud Jacobs for creating a sequence filled with unforced tension and heartbreak.

Jacob Wysocki elicits a wonderfully sensitive performance as Terri. He never once pleads through the camera for an audience’s sympathy. He just exists and embodies, giving this character a pureness of soul that I would think any of us would want and wish to protect. John C. Reilly also achieves a delicate balance as Mr. Fitzgerald as we can easily believe him as a school authority figurehead but also as the misfit teenager he once was and most likely the misfit adult he continues to be. His advice to Terri is always presented as matter-of-fact truths of the human condition and is sense of forwardness and tact makes him that very adult Terri, and all of the school’s misfit kids, need to have in their respective corners.

“Terri” is indeed one of those films where nothing much actually happens but I urge you to please not allow that to deter you if you choose to see this film, which is now available on DVD. It is a minutely observed yet hugely empathetic film that never overplays its hand or drowns in that independent film quirkiness. It never says and shows more that it absolutely has to, which may prove to be frustrating for some viewers who wish for the film to have more of an obviously depicted point.

But, dear readers, trust me, when you take in the sight of a tall, overweight teenage boy who wears pajamas sadly skulking through the woods, that image gives you all that you need to create a sense of empathy and understanding more than any manufactured situation and drama could possibly give you.

THE THREE STOOGES: a review of "Horrible Bosses"

“HORRIBLE BOSSES”
Story by Michael Markowitz
Screenplay Written by Michael Markowitz and John Francis Daley & Jonathan M. Goldstein
Directed by Seth Gordon
*** (three stars)

While I have not previously mentioned this to a soul, I did house some darkly malicious thoughts concerning a former employer.

Without going into any particulars, this person’s actions towards myself, and the organization at which I was working, created an environment that was nothing less than toxic. During the worst and darkest periods of my tenure, I was truly overcome with feelings that bordered upon paranoia as no one ever truly knew what information about which person was being spread throughout the organization and by whom. Yet we all knew that the person who could put a stop to it all had no interest in achieving that goal whatsoever and for some like myself, we felt that this person was quite possibly gathering more than a fair share of enjoyment from watching us all being consumed with mounting panic. Since exiting and moving onwards with my life, I have wondered just what would I do or say if a spontaneously ran into that former boss in public. The city in which I live is big but not that big, so such a meeting would not be an unrealistic occurrence. Would I walk on by, grit my teeth and share a pleasant word or would I unleash all of the vitriolic misery I feel this person richly deserves? In my fantasies of retribution, I would unleash that aforementioned vitriolic misery with a previously unseen forcefulness that would leave this person an emotionally shattered mess upon the pavement. Dear readers, I pride myself on possessing a very long fuse but I do carry an extremely nasty temper when that fuse is ignited and as far as I am concerned, this person deserves all of my buried rage.

The dark revenge comedy “Horrible Bosses” from Director Seth Gordon spoke to those malicious feelings carried by myself and, I am certain, so many of you fairly well once it found its comedic footing. Honestly, who has not felt horrific feelings towards and employer at one time or another. Handled correctly, this film could have been a wicked R rated experience filled with knowing, perceptive and justifiably nasty humor to make audiences howl in catharsis and employers look over their shoulders. As it stands, the film was pretty good but, I have to tell you that for its first third, I was truly worried as I was not liking the film very much at all. Yet, just at the point that I was a lost ready to give up and just suffer through the remainder, I began to laugh, laugh and laugh harder, longer and more consistently. While “Horrible Bosses” was ultimately not the comedy game changer it could have been, it is funny enough to provide you with much enjoyment.

“Horrible Bosses” opens with another day in the exhaustive treadmill life of Nick Hendricks (Jason Bateman), a financial firm employee constantly under the sadistic thumb of his boss David Harken (Kevin Spacey). The workplace misery continues with the mild-mannered Dale Arbus (Charlie Day), a newly engaged dental assistant who is being sexually harassed by his aggressive boss Dr. Julia Harris (Jennifer Aniston). Finally, we meet the socially conscious yet hopelessly randy accountant Kurt Buckman (Jason Sudekis) who is forced to work under the incompetent, idiotic and cocaine addicted Bobby Pellitt (Colin Farrell).

After yet another horrific day at work, Nick, Dale and Kurt meet and commiserate over drinks and in a moment of inebriated contemplation, Kurt jokingly suggests how wonderful their respective lives would be if all of their bosses no longer existed. While that thought is immediately waved away by Nick and Dale, the seed has effectively been planted. Soon, the trio locates and engages the assistance of an expletive named and self described “murder consultant” (played by Jamie Foxx) who gives them the finer pointers of how they can murder their bosses themselves for the low, low price of $5000 (and a briefcase).

On paper, I would think that the set up of “Horrible Bosses” would make for a most promising escapade that could potentially join the ranks of Director Colin Higgins’ gently feminist workplace revenge fantasy “9 To 5” (1980) and the brilliant cubicle satire of Writer/Director Mike Judge’s “Office Space” (1999). The film also seems to be setting itself up as playing into the 21st century workplace anxieties that are occurring in a recession and people are compelled to keep whatever jobs they have, no matter how miserable they may happen to be and how abusive their work environment are. Unfortunately, “Horrible Bosses” just skates around its own potential by giving a nod to those particular anxieties and just offering sheer entertainment instead of some much needed sharp, satirical bite for the comedy. I suppose that is all well and good, but again, when I am watching a film and can just see how and when the film can take off into the stratosphere, I am curious as to why the filmmakers and creative participants involved cannot see the same potential. To be fair, I have to review what was on the screen, and as previously stated, for the film’s first third or so, the experience of “Horrible Bosses” was just beginning to live up to the first word of its title.

Frankly, while the beginning of “Horrible Bosses” effectively set up the main characters, their respective plights as well as the horrific nature of those titular bosses, I just felt that it was all a tonal mess. I was seriously resisting this movie as its level of vulgarity, something that typically does not offend me, was grating. The amount of profanity felt gratuitous and nearly everything on display felt so forced, that it felt as if the filmmakers were just having the characters say and perform juvenile, puerile acts solely to gain and justify the R rating. Swear words are not funny in and of themselves. There has to be a context, a zest and swing to the language that can make those words so dangerously funny and for a while, I felt as if I were just being assaulted with bad words just because the filmmakers knew they could get away with it.

But mostly, it seemed as if Gordon just did not know exactly what kind of a film he wanted “Horrible Bosses” to be as too many sequences just fell completely out of the realm of possibility. The reason why “9 To 5” and “Office Space” work so well is that each of those films firmly ground themselves in a semblance of recognizable reality so that when the situations grow to outrageous lengths, the comedy is accentuated. If Dabney Coleman’s lecherous, sexist, egotistical, bigoted boss in “9 To 5” for instance, were pitched at cartoon level, no one would have cared a whit about his comeuppance or even laughed very much at it at all. Yet, Coleman made his character of Franklin Hart Jr. extremely tangible and therefore, realistically loathsome. The same can be said for Kevin Spacey’s sadistic Hollywood executive in Writer/Director George Huang’s “Swimming With Sharks” (1995), a character so realistically and manipulatively awful that you are begging to see him receive exactly what is deservedly coming to him. “Horrible Bosses,” on the other hand, begins as an over the top experience and it has nowhere else to go but upwards, almost forcing itself to one-up itself in ludicrousness. That particular tonal quality was something that just tripped Gordon up time and again.

Despite all of the attention heaped upon her, I felt that Jennifer Aniston was the film’s most severe weak link. Not through her performance and obvious enthusiasm to go against her “girl next door” image but from the fact that her character, and every sequence that features her lascivious dentist, is so over the top and out of the realm of anything that could realistically happen, that she never feels remotely real or at least recognizable. Therefore, Dale’s predicament is nothing more than a male cartoon fantasy and Dr. Julia Harris herself is someone who really only exists on the moon. Ultimately, all of it was tiring because it all felt to be so desperate.

Another major problem was that Jason Bateman and Jason Sudekis’ characters are both terribly underwritten and almost interchangeable. If it weren’t for Bateman’s trademark deadpan and Sudekis’ more aggressive qualities, I don’t know if I could have been able to really tell those two apart. Even Kevin Spacey, while cruelly entertaining, isn’t doing anything fresh with this material that he has not already performed to much better effect in Director James Foley’s adaptation of David Mamet’s “Glengarry Glen Ross” (1992) and the aforementioned “Swimming With Sharks.” As good as Spacey is in “Horrible Bosses,” he’s just treading water as he cashes another paycheck.

But then, after the fateful meeting with their murder consultant and the trio’s subsequent attempts to gather incriminating evidence upon all of their respective bosses, I began to laugh. And then, I began to laugh more consistently. After a while, I began to think of “Horrible Bosses” as possibly an updated version of an old “Three Stooges” short as these three imbeciles fumbled through one ridiculous mishap after another while growing increasingly irritated with each other. Unlike “The Hangover” (2009), which tried to treat its three leads as affable anti-heroes, “Horrible Bosses” knows fully well that Nick, Kurt and Dale are complete idiots and I began to find myself enjoying the bulk of the film on that level. Many thanks should go towards Charlie Day, whose terrifically reedy, raspy voice hysterically accelerates and increases in volume every time situations are threatening to fly off of the rails. If he was trying (and failing) to slide under a closing garage door, or attempting to contain a sense of coolness while under the extreme effects of inhaling spilled cocaine, Day was easily the film’s comic standout and I look forward to seeing him again, in hopefully better comedies.

While “Horrible Bosses” was not the cathartic comedic release I had hoped for it to be (and nothing for my former employer to worry about), it’s not bad and despite the hefty amount on criticism I held for it, I did enjoy myself for most of the film’s running time. “Horrible Bosses” doesn’t raise any bars or changes any games in the comedy film genre but it did make me laugh often and quite hard and sometimes that’s good enough.

LONG LIVE THE ORIGINAL "FOOTLOOSE"!!: A SAVAGE CINEMA TRIBUTE

“FOOTLOOSE” (1984)
Screenplay Written by Dean Pitchford
Directed by Herbert Ross

This particular entry was one I had not planned on writing but I fel that I needed to get the following off of my chest…

I hope that the new remake of “Footloose” bombs!

Yes, I said it. I hope the movie bombs. And not just a standard box office bomb. I hope that it is a complete disaster, that its failure is so extreme that it will make the brainless bean counters in Hollywood begin to re-think their plans to seemingly re-make every single film from the past 25 years instead of trying the now seemingly revolutionary act of…creating something new.

I know all of this sounds much harsher than I typically sound here on Savage Cinema but this is indeed how I feel. Really, dear readers, has it now just become too much to create a film that we have never seen before? As I have stated in the past, I am not against re-makes as a rule. There have been several over the years that I have enjoyed profusely and even a small handful of them, say John Carpenter’s extraordinary and game changing “The Thing” (1982) for instance, can even eclipse the original source material.

Even so, in my mind, there just has to be an overall purpose to a potential remake that has got to be more than lucrative. Is the remake in question updating something for current times? It is trying to take a previously uneven and mediocre work and possibly improving upon it? It is trying to place a more personal spin onto something? Any of those things would, generally be fine with me but re-making something just to remake it and solely for profits is asinine and precisely some of the most creatively lacking concepts that are just killing cinema movie by movie these days. This particular brand of remake, or re boot or re-imagining or whatever they want to call it are films with no purpose, no raison d’etre, if you will.

Take the recent remake of “The Karate Kid” starring Jackie Chan and Jaden Smith. While admittedly it was better than it had any right to be, I still have to negate it just because there is absolutely no reason for the film to exist at all, especially when the original film from 1984 remains a beloved experience, and was even Oscar nominated to boot! Did those filmmakers really think that they could make their movie better than the original? Why are the bean counters thinking that the original films have vanished from the face of the Earth and they must be replaced by inferior remakes? I do not, for any reason understand the concept that if people enjoyed the original, then they would like the remake just as much if not more. Look, dear readers, regarding “Footloose,” if you were to recommend this film to someone who has never seen it, which one would you pick? The one that was entirely dreamed up out of thin air or the carbon copy?

Dear readers, I vividly remember seeing “Footloose” on opening day at the age of 15 back in February 1984. Admittedly, I was very skeptical to see it. You see, Director Adrian Lyne’s “Flashdance” was a blockbuster hit the year before and despite everyone else’s love for that film, I hated, hated, hated it even then. To me, “Flashdance” felt to solely exist as a plotless, emotionless music video masquerading as a movie with nothing more than some pretty puppet in the leading role as she performed none of her own dancing, bike riding scenes and reportedly even some shots of her character simply walking. “Footloose,” at first look, seemed to be jumping on the youth music video/movie musical bandwagon but when I eventually saw advertisements, I had to admit it looked to be more movie than music video. So, on that fateful opening night, my parents and I went to the Evergreen Park movie theater, I chose my solitary seat away from them and waited for the house lights to dim into darkness.

After the splendidly shot and edited opening title sequence showing a collection of feet dancing to Kenny Loggins’ title song, the film settles into the now familiar plot. “Footloose” stars Kevin Bacon as Ren McCormack, a Chicago teenager who moves, along with his Mother, to a small Midwestern town where pop music and dancing has been declared illegal, an act fueled by the efforts of the local minister Reverend Shaw Moore (John Lithgow). After settling in with relatives, Ren quickly obtains new best friends in sassy Rusty (Sarah Jessica Parker) and the kindly but rhythmically challenged Willard (the late Christopher Penn), runs afoul of the town bully Chuck Cranston (Jim Youngs), and of course, falls in love with the Reverend’s rebellious daughter Ariel (Lori Singer), who is always adorned with the sinfully red cowboy boots.

Growing increasingly frustrated with the town’s restrictive boundaries, Ren takes up a personal crusade to organize and give his high school a dance for their Senior Prom, a crusade that places him at odds with Revered Moore who is a formidable adversary. That’s it for the storyline and that’s all you need for a film like this, which is essentially not much more than a “Hey kids! Let’s put on a show!!” movie. The heroes and their cause are easy to rally behind. The villains exist to rightfully boo and hiss. And the love of music, dancing and the freedom of expression fuels the experience as a whole.

Legendary Director Howard Hawks once expressed that the key to making a good movie simply came down to the following: “A good movie is three good scenes and no bad scenes.” Well, as far as I am concerned “Footloose” is loaded with one terrific scene after another. Ariel’s game of chicken with a semi-truck as she straddles herself between the windows of two speeding cars. A Friday night teenage dance sequence at the local fast food drive-in set to Shalamar’s “Dancing In The Sheets.” Ren’s tractor chicken race against Chuck. Ren’s turbulent (and highly gymnastic) solo dance in the abandoned warehouse. Ren teaching Willard how to dance. The incredible sequence set at the city council hearing when Ren, fully confronting Reverend Moore, reads passages from the Bible depicting the positive usages of dancing. Ren and Willard beating the tar and stuffing out of Chuck and his cronies. And of course, the climactic and victorious Senior Prom dance itself.

I cheered, laughed, was enormously entertained and fully enraptured by the experience that Director Herbert Ross exuberantly placed upon the screen. I loved the film so very much that I actually ended up foregoing viewing other new releases at the time to just see “Footloose” again, which I saw a total of four times in the movie theater (something that was unheard of during that time in my life). And yes…I even bought the soundtrack album, on which all of the songs were co-written by the film’s screenwriter Dean Pitchford. It was a purchase which surprised even me, because those songs and those particular artists just did not fit anywhere in my own personal jukebox (I actually purchased it at the same time with Rush’s “Grace Under Pressure” album, just to give you a window into my musical world at the time). I guess, to me, the soundtrack album did not feel to exist solely as a cynical cash-in product but actually as a souvenir of the movie experience itself. It was a way to hold onto that cinematic magic long after leaving the movie theater—and frankly, that is the best quality a movie song soundtrack can have, in my opinion.

Since that night in 1984, I have seen “Footloose” countless times and as I look back upon it now, I can see it as being sort of a minor miracle. Aside from some frisky sexual content and harsh profanity throughout, “Footloose” is quite an innocent film. It is a guileless film and one that exists completely without irony. For Pete’s sakes, it’s a film about a boy who wants to have a school dance and it has the conviction to take that concept earnestly and without any cynical winking at the audience. It is a film that believes in itself and its messages, which are all filtered through a gentle rebelliousness and an overt romanticism for becoming a slave to the rhythm.

I even appreciated how the filmmakers did not turn Reverend Moore into an unsympathetic monster as well. They gave him, and his troubled wife Vi (Dianne Wiest, who has not ever appeared this dowdy in any other film since this one) some viable reasons for their private yet publicly known pain, which provides Reverend Moore the basis for his fear driven censorship. And that gives “Footloose” a somewhat provocative inner battle: Reverend Moore’s politics of fear vs. Ren McCormack’s politics of dancing, which for Ren, those politics are genuinely simple: one high school dance can change the world.

By now, you can see my passion yet I am certain that some of you may be wondering if the original 1984 “Footloose” is a film that remains so beloved by me. Well…yes and no. Is “Footloose” a GREAT film? No. Over the years, I have seen it again and again, even as recently as two nights ago when it appeared on a cable channel. For all of its sheer entertainment, “Footloose” is more than a little silly, and yes, it has grown a tad cheesier over the years. Plainly, the excitement I held for it when I was 15 has not lasted me as I have grown into my 40s. Yet, that is OK because “Footloose” is not a film designed and meant for you to necessarily grow with. It is truly designed to speak to the hope and innocence of youth and I further believe that “Footloose” was exactly and precisely the right film at the right time for the right generation. And to that, “Footloose” is and remains an iconic film. Despite being a product of its time, the longevity of “Footloose” has proven that it is a timeless film whose spirit simply cannot be duplicated. It is a one-of-a kind experience.

“Footloose” is an undeniably honest film and one of the films that clearly defined a decade in cinema and that, dear readers is something that cannot be denied. Even if you think that “Footloose” is one of the worst films ever made, its pop cultural significance cannot be debated and because of that status and impact, it is a film I firmly believe should remain untouched. In comparison, I also feel this way for “Dirty Dancing” (1988), a film I absolutely HATED but completely acknowledge as an iconic film that also helped to define the films of the 1980s. Plans are already underway to remake that film as well and I also feel that it should remain untouched.

Besides, I don’t care which male flavor of the month they cast in the lead of the new film because (and taking a cue from the soundtrack album selection by Moving Pictures) he will NEVER, NEVER, NEVER, EVER, EVER be as cool as Kevin Bacon, who is simply a PIMP in this movie!!!!! He is cooler than cool, he struts like a peacock to such an extent that I fantasized that the character of Ren McCormack possible attended a predominantly African-American public high school in Chicago before arriving in small town America! Bacon is just magnetic in the role and makes for the perfect Pied Piper with humor, intelligence, sensitivity, honor and an unshakable upbeat quality combined with restless youthful energy for change. I still greatly appreciate the fact that Kevin Bacon did indeed perform some of his own dance moves, a fact we can all still witness as his face is clearly visible at points (remember kids, this was long before any CGI technology). As far as I am concerned, Kevin Bacon’s performance is untouchable and again, it cannot be duplicated.

When I saw the trailer for the new “Footloose,” it was simply depressing to me. All of the familiar iconography from the original 1984 film was there from sets, wardrobe, the yellow VW down to actual dialogue and actual shot for shot copies. I have read that even the songs from the original film have been remade. What?! They couldn’t even get people to write new music either?!?!?! Even as I saw the trailer in the movie theater, groans and complaints of disbelief from the audience were audible, so I knew that I was not alone in my feelings.

What is happening in our current cinematic landscape? Dear readers, there have always been bad movies and there always will be bad movies but what is happening now is just inexcusable to me. Why spend all of the millions upon millions of dollars copying something when they could just take those same millions upon millions of dollars and make an entirely new experience, which could potentially have the same pop-cultural and artistic effect as the original “Footloose” had over 25 years ago. It makes absolutely no damn sense when people who have the opportunity, luxury, finances and the pure gift of creating a motion picture experience will not even try to create!! I hate it when Hollywood treats the audience as commodities anyway, but when they make it so blatant, as they are with this shameless plea for cash, it is just intolerable. The original “Footloose” was pure where this new remake is sadly cynical yet masquerading as some strange tribute, which will honor the original film. Hey! If you want to honor the original film, then go WATCH the original film and leave the 1984 original alone!!!

You know, aside from having the new film die a swift and quick cinematic death at the box office, I think that I have figured out exactly how I would wish for it to happen. I wish that on the film’s opening day this upcoming weekend, movie going patrons completely bypass the film and head straight to wherever they obtain their DVD or Blu-Ray home video selections and everyone rents the original 1984 film.

That would be poetic cinematic justice to me.