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The appeal of sports movies baffles me. I don't say that because I don't like them, I say that because it seems that I do like them. I don't actively go out and watch sports matches, but somehow, there is something about sports movies (ones from the 1990s in particular) that can really get me caught up in the film. There's obvious things like wanting the team/player (aka the good guy) to win, and the battle to win is usually very blatantly played out in the championship game or whatever it is that serves as the climax to the film, and the pay off of the good guy winning is satisfied with the definite acknowledgement of a trophy/medal/glory/valuable moral lesson/whatever.
But why do I, someone who doesn't remotely care about actual sports games when they're on TV, care? Good writing and acting is always a contributing factor, but the subject matter is rather removed from my interests. Perhaps I'll have this figured out by the time I watch Remember The Titans.
Recently, I watched the series "Fringe" in its entirety, which stars Joshua Jackson as a mostly concerned and problem solving character. So watching Champions was partly fascinating just to be reminded of just how damn charming he is as an actor. No wonder he was cast. As a child actor, he was pretty great and, cheesy as it is, he gives the film heart.
Final Thought: I don't understand why they thought this film couldn't be called The Mighty Ducks in the UK and Australia...
Up Next: Charade (1963)
One of my first jobs growing up was at my local video store, at the time that the shift from VHS to DVD was happening. I watched as our shelves shifted from being mainly filled with videos to gradually being overrun by DVDs. And one of the great things about my video store was that they purchased all sorts movies. Not just the popular ones that would bring in money, but also those that regulars might want. So our collection was huge. You could find anything there. Despite this, my video store went out of business. A new, profit focussed chain store opened up down the road not long after, and they built up their catalogue by buying the one that my childhood store had painstakingly collected. Cheaters.
I realised, after a couple of years, that many of my favourite films from my childhood weren't likely to end up on DVD, so if I ever wanted to see them again, I'd need to hunt them down on VHS from my childhood video store's original collection. Since many of these films were a little obscure and not exactly profitable, the new video store would easily sell them. And that is how I ended up with the very same VHS copy of The Cat From Outer Space that I had watched dozens of times as a young child. So many times that I can even remember the melody of each line of dialogue in the trailers preceding the movie.
I'm not even sure what specifically it was that drew me to this film so much, other than the fact that there was an anthropomorphised cat in it. But I was possibly the only person who ever hired this from my local store.
Strangely enough, 4 years or so in to our friendship, I randomly mentioned this film in conversation with one of my closest friends, only to have her respond enthusiastically, much to my surprise. I have never met anyone else who has seen this movie. We decided to watch it together, but ended up dozing off.
As an adult, it kinda drags a little. But it's so familiar and comfortable and silly. A cat. From outer space. With a glowing collar that allows him to communicate with humans. Who else would come up with such a thing but Disney in the 70s.
Final Thought: The protaganists in these sort of films have a tendency to be conveniently accepting of the circumstances into which they are thrust. If they wasted too much time with skepticism, the film couldn't move forward. Alien cat with a magical collar? Sure, I'll help you break in to an army base. ...Seriously??
Up Next: The Cat Returns (2002)
This is easily one of my top three childhood films. It is as comforting and familiar to me as the smell of my father's cooking. Angela Lansbury is just wonderful, and I was always amazed by films that combined animation with live action. I was amazed by how they managed to put real people together with something that I knew was created on paper. It seemed extremely clever to me and I was fascinated by any film where it occurred (which led me to watch Who Framed Roger Rabbit? as a kid; a decision I regretted. That steamroller scene was upsetting).
I regularly hired the video from my local store and knew it back to front, but upon purchasing the 25th anniversary DVD, it turns out that there was a lot more to the story than was shown in the initial version that I saw. There are quite a few songs that weren't in the video I saw as a kid, and the extended Portobello Rd dance sequence is lovely. I mentioned previously that I resented the addition of a song to my DVD copy of Beauty and the Beast ("Human Again" wasn't in the original version, and I don't feel that the film flows smoothly in to it, so it jars my viewing experience), but I must say that the additional scenes in Bedknobs and Broomsticks work for me. They give the characters more depth. As a kid, I particularly never understood why Emelius suddenly shacked up with Miss Price at the end, but with the extended version their quiet affection for each other is shown and so it all makes sense.
Final Thought: It often happens that, as an adult, you'll go back and watch a film or TV show you loved as a kid and realise that it was actually a bit messed up. It somehow didn't seem that way to you when you were young. Yet with Bedknobs and Broomsticks, I always thought the deflation of the suits of armour most creepy, even as a child.
Up Next: Being John Malkovich (1999)
I remember there being a fuss about this movie when it was released. The fact that computers were used to partly animate the ballroom scene was a big deal. It seemed so strange to me at the time that a person would use a computer for animation. I knew that making a cartoon involved several pieces of paper that you drew on and then flicked between a lot. The idea of using a computer for that was just weird.
I went to see this film at the cinema and just loved Belle. She was bookish, brunette and inquisitive, which I found appealing. I also loved the music theatre nature of the soundtrack. The opening theme is gorgeous and the songs have such entertaining lyrics ("I use antlers in all of my decorating...").
I do wonder though, how much of the furniture in the castle was just furniture? If it was entirely furnished with the staff in their transformed state, what did they do once everyone was human again?
Final Thought: Thinking back, "inventor" was a common profession according to 90s films...
Up Next: Bedknobs and Broomsticks (1971)
When I was a kid discovering music, I would pinch my father's CDs that I liked the most. My father listened to a lot of jazz and classical music, so that was where I started. Henry Mancini made an impression on me. I loved "Baby Elephant Walk" and "Pink Panther". There was another song on the same album called "Main Title from The Great Mouse Detective".
Being a child, and therefore prone to come up with my own definitions for things, I thought it cool that a composer my father liked had written a piece of music about an imaginary mouse detective. I thought it was just an idea that had occurred to Mancini one day; "Suppose there was this detective, but he was a mouse... I think his life would sound like this..." After all, he'd written music about baby elephants and pink panthers, so for me it wasn't much of a stretch. I loved the piece of music and was satisfied with my explanation for it.
Years later, I discovered the film Basil, The Great Mouse Detective at the video store. It had animals in it, so of course I hired it. When the opening credits started and the theme played, I froze. I knew that music! I scrabbled through my CDs to confirm that I was right, and sure enough, there it was on the track listing. I'd been listening to it for years and never learned that it was the theme music for a Disney film before that day that I'd hired it on a whim.
After I'd watched the film, I pulled out my CD and listened carefully to the title music several times. I heard it so differently having seen the film. I could picture the characters and their world. The piece seemed more emotive to me, knowing what it was created for. This was a piece that was part of my discovery of music. It wasn't something that I was told was good, it was a piece that I decided myself that I liked. I had made that choice independent of outside influence. I had listened to that album so many times growing up, I knew every little nuance of every track. And then, out of the blue, completely unwittingly, I'd discovered a whole new meaning to a piece that I thought I knew so well. It was an amazing experience to listen to a piece of music that I knew intimately, and hear it as though I was listening to it for the first time. Because it gave me that feeling, this film will always be special to me.
Final Thought: Hooray for mice with Scottish accents.
Up Next: Batman Begins (2005)
Within in the first five minutes of this film, I was struck by how gentle it is. I can't think of a better word for it. This film is gentle. This feeling stays throughout, even in the dramatic moments, because the protagonist is a shy creature and it wouldn't suit his story to present it in another way.
This was yet another Disney movie that I didn't see while young. So many people say that they were shocked and devastated when Bambi's mother meets her fate, but I already knew of her demise before I saw the film for the first time. As a result, I almost feel like I'm missing an essential part of what it is to watch Bambi, because her death wasn't a shock to me. For such a thing to happen in what is mostly such a peaceful film was quite traumatic for many viewers, I believe.
Although I didn't watch the film as a child, I once again must have somehow got my hands on it's related picture book, because I sure did know that I liked Thumper. I was actually thrilled on watching the movie for the first time to discover that Thumper's character is even more charming than I'd imagined.
The presence of man as an ever present but never seen threat is disturbing, and apparently didn't sit well with audiences in the original theatrical release. We're shown the idyll of Bambi's world, and then pretty bluntly told that humans constantly threaten to destroy it. In the current age this is more acceptable, with more people environmentally aware, but back then it would have been pretty confronting. In fact it's now common for hunters to be portrayed as villains, whereas back then it was quite a commercial risk to make such a connection.
Final Thought: I really love when animators take care to accurately portray the movement of animals.
Up Next: The Bandwagon (1953)
Yet another glorious Disney animated film. All it took for me to convince The Bassist to watch it with me was to describe it as "They're cats who play jazz." As a cat loving musician, he didn't need to hear much else.
As a kid, I had a cassette tape compilation of Disney songs, which I think is largely responsible for my assumption as an adult that I had seen a lot of Disney movies that I in fact had not. I would listen to that tape over and over again, and I knew the words to all the songs. "Everybody Wants To Be A Cat" was on there, and it was by far my favourite. That song is why I told The Bassist he should watch this film with me, and afterwards, the first thing he commented on was the score. So many of the classic Disney movies have wonderful music, both featured and incidental.
To be honest, I was surprised at how much The Bassist enjoyed this film. I had expected him to tap his toes along with "Everybody Wants To Be A Cat" (which he did), but that was about it. However, he chuckled at all of the little jokes, debated why dogs in France sounded like they came from the Deep South, and got frustrated at little Marie for constantly ending up in peril.
I didn't anticipate his getting so involved. He promptly fell asleep afterwards.
Final Thought: Seriously, Marie, stop falling off things. You're a cat for chrissakes.
Up Next: The Artist (2011)
I used to insist that my father read Alice In Wonderland to me every night. When I got a little older, Alice Through The Looking Glass was one of the first proper books I read on my own. That may be why I've always liked Through The Looking Glass just a little bit more - I felt so proud to have read it all by myself, and I thought myself quite clever for that.
Disney's version of Alice mixes elements from Wonderland and Through The Looking Glass into the one film. And I must admit, this isn't one of my favourite Disney cartoons.
I don't find this film as elegant as some other Disney cartoons, but I'm having trouble pinpointing why. I thought it may be because Alice is just a bit too affected, but then she's supposed to be precocious and slightly bratty. Yet, something didn't quite translate from the books. She's always trying to act grown up, but she never quite feels obnoxious in the books, whereas she sometimes does in the film.
I do feel like story doesn't really follow a consistent path, but then neither do the books, and neither do dreams, so that lack of a path is merely a factor of the story itself. Most likely the fact that I'm so used to the books means that the use of elements from both of them disrupts the story for me. I wonder what I'd think if I didn't know the books so well?
There's also something that bothers me about the way the dream characters are drawn. Again, I'm having trouble specifying what it is. It just doesn't feel as lovely as 101 Dalmatians or Beauty And The Beast, for example.
There's been numerous attempts to adapt Alice for the screen over the years, and to me they never quite make it. (Tim Burton, as much as I like his earlier work, and if anyone could do it, you'd think he could. But his version was a disgrace and I don't want to talk about it). I think the problem with Alice is that the fact it mainly takes place in a dream world. No matter how extravagant you try to be when filming it, it will always seem that it's not fantastical enough.
Final Thought: It's nowhere in the books, but the scene in the film where Alice is trying to find a path through the forest and encounters various strange birds is actually my favourite part, as it turns out.
Up Next: All Dogs Go To Heaven (1989)
This is a Disney film that I know for certain I watched over and over again as a kid. This may have been the first Disney film I saw at the cinema, I'm not sure. The VHS is stored under my couch. I bought the soundtrack. I memorised all the lyrics. I even memorised the opening monologue and several of the scenes. I have since, somehow, misplaced that soundtrack CD, which is incredibly disappointing.
It's hard to imagine what this movie would have been like without Robin Williams as the Genie. I remember watching a couple of episodes of the spin off TV series one Saturday morning, and being tremendously disappointed. It just wasn't the same without Robin Williams. Any actor who took on the role after him was stuck trying to imitate what he did, which rarely succeeds.
This film sparked the trend for using big name actors to provide voices for animated films, thanks to the great job that Williams did. However, it quickly devolved to be based solely on the actor being popular, rather than their being a talented voice artist. I've ranted about this already, and possibly will again, because it's such a shame. Decent voice actors are so skilled, and the lack of that skill can make an animated film really bland to me. Without subtlety and nuance in the voice, the character just can't be convincing. In this case, obviously Robin Williams was a big drawcard, and no one could have played the Genie like him, but he was a factor of a film that was already so good. It falls apart when they start relying on the names to bolster a film that has a poor script and lazy animation. The voice work should enhance the story, not distract from it.
It's a severe pet peeve of mine, and I can't help but get frustrated about it.
Final Thought: Hooray for animal sidekicks who can't talk but totally sound like they can.
Up Next: Alice In Wonderland (1951)
I love a well made, animated movie. There will be a lot of Disney and Pixar, a smattering of Studio Ghibli and Dreamworks, and some more random cartoons amongst these films I'll be watching.
About four years ago, I began a crusade to gather as many of the classic Disney films as I could, as well as the decent modern ones. Back when I was a kid, Disney would only release their films on VHS for a limited time, one at a time, every seven years (I learned this when I was working at a video store). Then after that limited time had expired they'd all be pulled from the shelves. So you'd have to snap them up when you saw them. When DVDs started to take hold they seemed to be doing the same thing for a while there, so when I began collecting them on DVD, I'd pounce on any I saw. These days they seem to be staying on the shelves for much longer, so the urgency has diminished somewhat.
Anyhow, it turns out that there's quite a few Disney movies that I just assumed I had seen as a child, but upon watching them as an adult, it turned out that I'd never seen them before. I think I may have been confused by the fact that I also had picture books of their films, and tapes of song collections so I knew many of the songs, or maybe I just couldn't remember much of it. But I was quite moved watching these films for what felt like the first time at the age of 24, and there were several occasions where I rang my partner (let's call him The Bassist) in a bit of a state over it. He'd hear my crying on the phone and be very concerned for my wellbeing, until I explained that the reason I was emotional was due to the exploits of an animated dog and then... Well, then he was just baffled. But to me that's the beauty of a classic film, regardless of whether it's animated or whatever. If it's done well, it moves you.
I also really love the old
Disney voice actors. There's a lot of animated films lately that seem
to count on using a big name movie star as a voice in order to get
attention. I suspect it may have started with the success of Robin
Williams in Aladdin, but I could be wrong. I feel like voice acting is a
separate art though, and while some of your big name actors seem to
understand that (Jeremy Irons, Ellen Degeneres, Rowan Atkinson...), most
of the time they don't. If you can't separate the character from the
awareness of who is voicing it, then I don't think it is entirely
successful. And I love that Pixar for the most part seems to be aware
of this, however Disney lost sight of it for a while there.
Back to this film.
So many people are so aware of the Disney movie that the fact it is based on a book gets lost. Dodie Smith wrote The Hundred And One Dalmatians, and its even lesser acknowledged sequel The Starlight Barking, and as a dog-obsessed child I adored them both. I read them over and over. That is possibly why I assumed I had seen the Disney film, because if I was that in love with the books, I must have sought out the film as well. But it seems that I didn't get around to it until four years ago.
101 Dalmatians is a beautiful movie. It strays from the book, as so many films do, but I forgive it because they've created their own lovely story. The music is great, the animation elegant, the baddies classic, and it leaves you feeling content. I'm so sentimental for great animated films, which is bound to come up every time I watch one on this project. Watching 101 Dalmatians makes me want to watch every other classic Disney movie in my catalogue immediately, but I must abide by my rules.
Final Thought: How great were old credit sequences at the start of films?
Up Next: 500 Days Of Summer (2009)
