Summer of Jan Brady

Poor, poor summer of 2010. You’re like the Jan Brady of summers; a complete disappointment to everyone. You don’t yet have a Marcia’s-nose-sized box office explosion like Dark Knight, Finding Nemo, or Transformers 2, nor do you have an adorable Cindy-indie (500) Days of Summer or Little Miss Sunshine. Even your two biggest hits so far, Iron Man 2 and Shrek Forever After, did not perform nearly as well as was hoped and were not met all too favorably by critics. Sex in the City 2 has people questioning if the sequel is dying, Robin Hood was considered a success because it didn’t bomb, and I feel like finishing the title MacGr___ would be like rubbing salt and vinegar chips in a wound.

Though, to be fair, I personally am not all too disappointed. Of the five successful summer films I listed, one of them is my whipping boy, one is a backup for the first, one I would hate if I could muster the energy, and two I’m lukewarm on (for those of you who don’t know and clearly this is your first entry, first off, hi, and secondly, in order, Dark Knight, (500) Days of Summer, Transformers 2, and Finding Nemo and Little Miss Sunshine). Last summer delivered hits like Star Trek and Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. One was good, one wasn’t so good, neither were great, and I’d probably place Iron Man 2 in their ball park. Whether or not they grossed more does not mean that I had a better or worse summer. If millions of people saw Terminator Salvation but I didn’t, then it really has not effect on my film experience of the season.

Sure, last summer delivered some amazing films such as Inglourious Basterds, Up, and The Hurt Locker (I still contend that 2009 was a tremendously underrated year for film, especially within the last decade), but only Up would have been seen as characterizing the summer before Oscar season hit.

But I digress. The summer has just stared. Actually, despite the fact that former students of mine are posting “Done with high school” as their statuses and it is a sweltering, humid 95 degrees outside (or was when I started writing this entry), it is not even summer yet. So let’s take a look as I weigh in on some big films that the summer still has in store for us. NOTE: I’ll only be looking at bigger “summer” pictures. I also left out any I just had nothing interesting to say or that were too much of shooting fish in a barrel (see: Cats & Dogs: The Revenge of Kitty Galore)

The Karate Kid (6/11) – starting off on a low note: I don’t care. It’s a remake of a movie for which I have no nostalgia anyway. I somehow do not see people who know or have seen the original being all that interested, nor do I think the karate/ninja craze holds this generation like it did for kids of the 90s. It will flop, and good thing because my hatred of Will Smith extends to his entire family’s acting career.

WILL I SEE IT: Take a guess

The A-Team (6/11) – AKA SWAT: Part Deux. Oh, by the way, I liked SWAT. It completely satisfied everything I needed from a blow-em-all-up film. Is it classic cinema? No, but it’s unfairly maligned. This film will probably be very similar and get similar critical/fan reception. And I forget how SWAT did at the box office, but it will do that.

WILL I SEE IT: Probably, but on a Tuesday, so it’s free.

Toy Story 3 (6/18) – I like the fact that Pixar is really starting to sell themselves on the fact that they will make grown men weep at their films. Is there anybody out there who thinks his or her eyes will stay dry throughout the film? Hell, do you think most people will make it past the opening few minutes? The only potential pitfall this film can make is that it will open just as Up did, but for some reason, I trust Pixar enough that they will do it so well that it will just work.

Now people are complaining that they fear this movie is a sign of a Pixar getting lazy. In most cases of sequels I would agree, but here I am not so sure. The Toy Story sequels seem to be pushing the envelope on the ideas of “The End” and “Happily Ever After.” The first film opened up the concept of being forgotten, only to shut it up again quickly and assure us everything would be okay. The second film reopens the box, and while it shuts it, we know that the box cannot stay closed forever and the best we can do is enjoy the time we have. This film seems to be going the next step. Andy is leaving the toys behind. Sure, they are going to find him, and sure Andy is a bit out of touch with reality (talking about how Woody is a brave toy), but ultimately, if I may echo Stinky Pete, can Andy really take all his toys to college?

A semi-happy solution may be found, but I feel it will be bittersweet. And with that, it adds a more foreboding “For Now” at the end of those prior ideas than any horror movie ever could.

WILL I SEE IT: Yes. And I’ll bring tissues.

Knight and Day (6/25) – What’s the appeal of this movie? Can someone let me know? Because people I respect keep talking about wanting to see this film, and personally, I think rewatching Letters to Juliet would be a better investment of my time.

WILL I SEE IT: Take a guess, part deux.

Twilight: Eclipse (7/2) – the marketing for this film is pretty brilliant actually, or it is if they are doing what I think they are doing. If you haven’t seen the theatrical trailer, it essentially is selling this movie as a Lord of the Rings-esque vampires vs. warewolves fight, instead of as another 2 hours of Bella-Edward-Jacob angst with a side of sparkles and shirtlessness. Why? Either A) the book is actually like that, B) they severely changed the story for the film, or, my guess, C) they already know that (generalization and gender stereotyping time!) every teenage girl is already going to see the movie even were the trailer a shot of a jar of mayonnaise for two and a half minutes. They therefore are trying to entice some guys to see it as well, by showing “Hey! It’s an awesome action movie!” It may not completely destroy the already-existing stigma, but it may work at least in turning it into a compromise for a date movie.

WILL I SEE IT: I see through your ploy marketers. Nope.

The Last Airbender (7/2) – originally, Avatar, then Avatar: The Last Airbender, then it lost the invitation to comparison all-together. The film looks incredibly average, but almost charmingly so, like an incredibly average film that was made in 2002 after The Matrix and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon craze and then got lost in the sands of Egypt for 8 years before being discovered by Heinrich Schliemann. Oh, and it’s directed by M. Night Shyamalan, who is clearly making an action, kid-orientated film as part of his penance for the past 10 years of his career, particularly The Happening. Zach Snyder is doing the same currently with the film where the owls fly around and shout “Oh no!” and that’s basically the 90 minutes.

WILL I SEE IT: Most likely not. The aforementioned charm can get me through 5 minutes. Then I have a movie to watch.

Despicable Me (7/9) – I am upset that “supervillainy jokes” are becoming passé. Thanks Dr. Horrible’s Sing-A-Long Blog (aka yet another reason NPH bugs me)! I fear that this movie may be the nail in the coffin of those jokes. And, unlike Zombieland with humor of the undead, the final note will not even be a deliciously triumphant one.

WILL I SEE IT: NO!

Predators (7/9) – yet another entry in the rebooted horror film genre. It joins the proud ranks of Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Friday 13th, A Nightmare on Elm Street, and now I’m even more excited to see what Scream 4 has to say about this trend. However, the really interesting aspect of this film is how I have heard nothing about it until glossing over summer movies on IMDB. I am always amazed how some seemingly big films have so little buzz around them.

WILL I SEE IT: No

The Sorcerer’s Apprentice (7/16) – this movie may win my “dumb but I gotta see it” prize. Plot looks standard and driven by special effects. Dialogue is probably exposition interspersed with typical summer movie attempts at wit. And, er, is there anything else in the film? No. But I gotta see it.

WILL I SEE IT: Yes, but again, on a Tuesday. I will not pay for this.

Inception (7/16) – A lot of people seem to think this movie will be the savior of cinema this summer. Of course, I think there will be a tug of war over people wanting Nolan to be the next great director and the fact that this film does not have a dead actor in it. At least not yet. Leo, I’d watch out if I were you. Hire a bodyguard and don't linger in front of exposed windows too much.

But, my typical thoughts on Dark Knight aside, let me talk about this film as impartially as I can. The trailer seems to present an interesting concept, even if it is not exactly clear as to what the concept is. But I think the film may have the wrong director, and not just because the last work I liked by him was Memento. I adore Quentin Tarantino, but I would never have picked him to direct Requiem for a Dream. Certain styles do not fit certain contents. Nolan goes for a more realistic, stark tone. This film is one about dreams. I fear that Nolan will cop out with dreams, and only go so far as to have water fill up a house or something hang in midair. The necessary surrealism will be forgotten and a phoned-in replacement will take the job for the purposes of story. Perhaps I have been watching too much Luis Bunuel, but I would prefer to see a director more attune to indulging in the unreal.

WILL I SEE IT: Ultimately, this film falls into Star Trek/Terminator Salvation status. If I’m bored on a Tuesday or if some friends are seeing it, I’ll go. But I can’t see myself in most cases going to the movies to buy a ticket. So it’s 50/50. I saw Star Trek, never saw Terminator Salvation.

The Expendables (8/13) – whereas A-Team is SWAT: Part Deux, I fear this blow-em-up may be Snakes on a Plane: Part Deux. It has a lot of hype and a lot of internet geek buzz, but ultimately, it is selling itself on being ridiculous. Just like Snakes on a Plane. And many people like to think that they enjoy bad or ridiculous films, when in fact, they really do not. And they certainly do not want to pay $12 for one when they could just download it or wait for DVD. It will deliver exactly what it promises (as did SoaP), but people will still be disappointed (because they never really wanted to see what was promised anyway) and it will flop.

WILL I SEE IT: Probably. Though I will have just relocated to LA, so that will be an issue. It’s a movie I would like to see, but will not rearrange my life to see.

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World (8/13) – Michael Cera backlash is so 2008. Seriously, you might as well be cheering for Hilary Clinton in the primaries whenever you unleash a Cera complaint. I'm officially declaring myself post Cera backlash. Which is very good since this movie looks hilarious and fun and even the trailers excite me and puts me in a good mood. It probably is actually the summer movie for which I’m most excited. Sure, it has a QuirkyIndieGirl but the film seems to really not care that much about her aside from being a MacGuffin and she actually seems relatively unquirky aside from her hair. Furthermore, in the anime-video-game setting of this world, that trait may actually be quite normal. Nobody thinks Sailor Mercury is actually punk, despite rocking her blue locks.

WILL I SEE IT: YES.

Okay, so the summer doesn’t look all that promising, but hey, there’s always beach reading. And summer beers. I think I’ll be okay.

There's No Place like Oz

The past month, I had a few dreams that have been parodies/homages of The Wizard of Oz. Naturally, I mean the movie, not the book, as the dreams tend to be Technicolor spectacles and involve me skipping down the Yellow Brick Road (since, ever since Judy Garland did so in 1939, there really has not been an alternate, acceptable method of travel along such an itinerary). Upon reflection, I realized that the best part of these dreams were that, in a way, they were just as valid as the “original.” After all, Garland’s Dorothy only dreams she goes to Oz and, upon waking up, I too can say to my friends, “I had the most wonderful dream. And you were there. And you were there,” etc. The whole idea of dreaming that one is in the dream part of MGM’s The Wizard of Oz is actually quite post-modern if one thinks about it.

I then had the good fortune of seeing The Wizard of Oz again, on a big screen, at The Film Forum in New York City. I went there with my friend anticipating to marvel at the Technicolor and some of the aesthetic choices, and maybe the acting, but that would be it. I would appreciate Oz as many do: a brilliantly done fable that has withstood the tests of time. I would see the movie as a masterpiece so elegantly simple, a tale with such a universal appeal, and the quintessence of imagination on celluloid. Hell, even the furthest Roger Ebert goes with glorifying the cranial aspects of the film is to say:

``The Wizard of Oz'' has a wonderful surface of comedy and music, special effects and excitement, but we still watch it six decades later because its underlying story penetrates straight to the deepest insecurities of childhood, stirs them and then reassures them. As adults, we love it because it reminds us of a journey we have taken. That is why any adult in control of a child is sooner or later going to suggest a viewing of ``The Wizard of Oz.''

Upon revisiting the film, I was shocked to discover a movie with a tremendous amount of bite. In the act of creating an Oz perhaps more archetypal than that of L. Frank Baum’s novel, it still manages to parody and question the subject material. The Wizard of Oz is simultaneously the classic Oz and the classic Oz parody.



Before I go further, let me just add a few words to those of you raising Joan Crawford eyebrows right now. By the time the movie came out, the novel was already 39 years old and widely regarded as a “classic.” Of course, “classic” delivers both reverence and a propensity to be mocked. Furthermore, the film was at one point under the direction of George Cukor and eventually delivered to Victor Fleming to create. Both of these men were not simple-minded, idealistic artists who only wished to entertain children. Fleming had quite a few pre-Code sex comedies under his belt and Cukor, after leaving both Oz and Gone with the Wind, would find himself directing the bitchy catfight known as The Women. While none of these facts automatically prove my prior paragraph, they should at least quell any knee-jerk reactions that I am simply trying to fit the square peg of post-modernism into the round hole of 1939.

Now for the film…

As I have already said, the movie already feels like a parody of The Wizard of Oz, or at least an homage. Consider any parody/homage you have seen of the film. Most of them involve taking already existing characters and placing them in roles from the classic. One example which immediately comes to mind is Futurama’s. As we watch Leela go along Martin Luther King Blvd (the renamed Yellow Brick Road) she encounters Fry as the Scarecrow, Bender as Tin Man, Dr. Zoidberg as the Cowardly Lobster, Professor Farnsworth as the Wizard, and Mom as the Wicked Witch. We would never simply say she encounters the Scarecrow, Tin Man, Cowardly Lobster, the Wizard, and Wicked Witch. Furthermore, all of the choices are meant to fit the characters to the pre-made roles from the work and each side (for example the Cowardly Lion and Dr. Zoidberg) has a role to play in the ultimate product on screen.

Oddly enough, we never seem to take note that the exact same concept is at play in the MGM classic film. We do not simply meet the Scarecrow, Tin Man, Cowardly Lion, The Wizard, and the Wicked Witch. Just as we think “Oh, look! It’s Fry as the Scarecrow,” we also should think “Oh look! It’s Hunk as the Scarecrow!” Both are fitting matches, as Fry is quite brainless and Hunk had earlier been talking about a head of straw. Just as Mom’s inclination to evil deeds makes her an ideal choice for Leela’s Wicked Witch of the West, so does Miss Gulch’s cruelty make her an ideal choice for Dorothy’s Wicked Witch of the West. Mom’s choice of words colors her portrayal of the Witch; Miss Gulch’s hatred of Toto makes her green-skinned counterpart threaten “I’ll get you my pretty and your little dog too!” (a line absent from the source material).

I could list the differences between the film and the novel for quite some time. But let me just sum up this argument by talking about how each of the actors uses his or her position to play to his or her own acting and comedic strengths. We are watching a classic vaudeville routine as much as we are watching a recreation of Baum’s classic.

I could argue that Dorothy’s Kansas is more akin to our own than to that of L. Frank Baum’s and that, in fact, Dorothy herself has read The Wondeful Wizard of Oz. Encountered with a similar situation and a need to sort out problems, she is taken by her mind into a world very similar to a book from her childhood. The characters of the novel are replaced with familiar faces and situations are modified to become more pertinent to her own crisis. After all, in the original work, Dorothy truly travels to Oz and we know little about Kansas beforehand. The mirroring of her Kansas life to her Oz life is a device unique to the film. Just as I have had dreams about The Wizard of Oz that have reflected my own life (and have found myself not referencing the source material in my dream), so could Garland’s Dorothy have encountered such an experience.

But I digress. The whole dream sequence (i.e. the meat of the film) is conscious of its own theatricality. Every character is an actor playing a role. The movie rubs its Technicolor in the viewers face more than almost any other film had or ever will. But with this self-awareness also comes a self-awareness of the sinister nature of a children’s story, particularly the very one on which it is imbuing cinematic immortality.



This film is not a faithful recreation of L. Frank Baum’s children’s tale. Everything has an edge, a bite, and wink and a nudge to the audience. The whole celebration is Munchkinland is, indeed, quite manic, gaudy, and indicative of an acid trip. Most parodies will include some jab at Munchkinland. But look at Dorothy’s face during the event: she knows she is not in Kansas anymore and the film knows we are not in Kansas anymore. The entire transition to Oz must be anything but gradual. From sepia to Technicolor, from a world where the most action comes from falling into a pit with some pigs (twister excepted, as it is the doorway between Kansas and Oz) into a frantic celebration of nonsense and high-pitched singing. Whereas Snow White and the Seven Dwarves and earlier children’s movies seem comfortable in their spectacle, The Wizard of Oz both excels in such category and is at odds with its own nature.

Furthermore, there is Glinda. Most people seem willing to write Glinda off as an empty-headed character of insipid pink goodness. But actually, Glinda is quite sinister. Parodies have noted the danger she placed Dorothy in by not telling her how to get home immediately (again, a difference between Baum’s novel and the film, as there are two different good witches and Dorothy only meets Glinda at the end). Yet her dark nature only begins here. Watch again the first encounter between Dorothy and the Wicked Witch of the West. Glinda pushes Dorothy towards the billow of smoke before pulling her away to “protect” her. Furthermore, throughout the whole exchange, she taunts the Wicked Witch of the West and practically paints a target on Dorothy. Even putting the ruby slippers on Dorothy by magic is a machination of the film. In this “parody” of Oz, the good witch is just as foul-minded and sadistic as the wicked one. At least the Wicked Witch is courteous enough to be ugly and to grimace.

I could again rattle off examples, such as the effeminate, queer natures of the Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion or the changed nature of the Wizard’s gifts. All I will say about the latter subject is that whereas the novel emphasizes the fulfillment of the characters and how they had those traits all along, the movie appears more skeptical. After all, the Scarecrow doesn’t even give a correct mathematical equation. Instead, the focus on that scene is the movie seems to be the deception and ineptness of the Wizard and gullibility of the others. Their gifts are as much of a placebo to keep them happy as a kid’s movie is a placebo to make children feel at ease with a world on the brink of war (or a dream to make Dorothy believe there is no place like home).

And that sentence does bring us to the end. The end may be the most unsettling part of the film. Yes, there is no place like home, but there’s also no place like Alcatraz. We are ferried away from a tear-jerking scene where Dorothy says goodbye to the first characters we have seen display true affection and respect to her to the boring, sepia world of Kansas, full of claustrophobic shots and people who do not believe a single word coming out of Dorothy’s mouth. Is Dorothy’s final mantra the truth or merely a way to delude herself into happiness, even though she just abandoned her friends and the beautiful Technicolor world of Oz where she was a hero?



In short, the entire movie seems critical of its own story and characters. It tinges “good” characters with hints of sadism, heroic ones with behavior not fitting their genders, and joyous celebrations with bouts of insanity. The very tale is a dark retelling of Oz despite being the iconic telling of the story. And, all the way, it manages also to doubt its own reality. The very novel is framed as a dream, not a reality, a world of fake sets and actors in make-up. Yet, would that make Kansas the reality? Are we comfortable allowing a world without color and with character actors on the loose in the vague pretense of being farm hands to be reality? I am not sure. After all, this reality is far less present than the dream and in the end, both are figments of the imagination.

I suppose reasons like this are what grad school is for. I have only scratched the surface of the Oz question, one that most movie critics seem terrified of even acknowledging. Which I guess I leave as my final question: why has no one written about this…or if they have, why has it not broken into the world of common critical knowledge? Are we so desirous of always having one piece of innocent childhood to return to that we will, if necessary, turn something that was never all that innocent into it? In the end, I guess we are like Dorothy: ready to ignore the reality of our situation and, no matter the circumstance, click our heels together and mutter “there’s no place like home.” We do not care what “home” is, as long as it’s “home.”