Thursday, December 29, 2016

2016 Movie Wrap-Up

It's really hard to crawl to the finish line of 2016 without feeling a combination of bitterness and defeat. There are a lot of entertainers we've lost who will be missed, (Carrie Fisher, Debbie Reynolds, Joe Alaskey, Andrew Sachs); as well as others (Prince will never have my respect). And we head into the new year in the shadow of gloom (I continue to be ashamed of my country). But as always, I take temporary comfort in the medication of the cinema, which should at least withstand collapsing under its weight until the middle of 2018. So let's look back at what films I've seen this year and what I thought.


Movies

Deadpool

I liked it. I'm glad Ginny liked it. It's a pity Roger Ebert is no longer with us because I would love to have heard his take on it, as he (at least) once asserted that any film which is clearly a labor of love would always be interesting. Deadpool is a labor of love from everyone involved in it; although none more so than Ryan Reynolds who took a pay cut to get the damn thing greenlit. It was maybe a little too frat-boyish for me to have loved it myself, but I really did like it. I'm glad it saw about thirteen times its return investment.

Zootopia

Animated films really seem to be knocking it out of the park lately, and this anthropomorphic social commenting buddy cop whodunit hits way more bulls-eyes than you would ever have expected it to be aiming for. I'm not sure what era in family films we're technically in right now, but I'm grateful for the complexity of the story lines and the characters' emotional layers.

Batman v Superman

I covered this one fairly well last spring, but really quickly I think people were way too hard on the film. Yeah, there were moments that rubbed me the wrong way, but those were just moments. The rest of it I thought was quite good. Maybe not great, and maybe our expectations were so high that anything shy of great would feel like a massive letdown (or maybe we expected it to fail and honed in on the aforementioned moments) but I think the film deserves to be accepted as quite good.

Captain America: Civil War

Probably not quite on par with Winter Soldier but it certainly redeemed the 'meh' feeling with which I left Age of Ultron. I think we all had some concern going into it that the MCU may have peaked already, but this is a good sign that the Russo brothers are the right drivers to take us to The Infinity Wars and beyond.

The Jungle Book

This was good, although I'm still confused as to why people were going on and on about it. It's certainly done well, but aside from the obvious cash grab it never really justifies itself. I think Disney's live-action remakes are probably going to wear out their welcomes before they strike that golden chord.

X-Men: Apocalypse

In terms of a fun superhero beat 'em up, this movie hits all the right notes. It's an enjoyable roller coaster. But when it's over, it doesn't feel like it was about anything. In something like the Spiderman franchise this isn't an issue, but X-Men has always stayed a few crucial steps closer to the realm of drama. So I liked it a lot even if I can't help but notice the mission statement seems to be out of focus.

Now You See Me 2

I missed the first movie until earlier this year and wound up really liking it. The sequel is more of the same with a little more emphasis on the unrealistic qualities (that card swapping scene goes on three times as long as it needs to) and the inclusion of a female character who has more to do than just her introduction (you owe Isla Fisher an apology). Even if the story never feels genuine it's a nice, if occasionally silly, romp. A third act is encouraged.

Ghostbusters

I did a whole blog on this movie, but here's the highlights. This movie was good with more moments of greatness than sloppiness. The backlash was unreal; think Batman v Superman mixed with misogyny. The film was geared for a sequel, but the anti-fan reaction was enough for Columbia to shelve it. That's disappointing, but I can't blame them. The internet assholes don't deserve a sequel.

Batman: The Killing Joke

I wanted it to be better than it was. Acts two and three follow the source material closely enough to make it worth a watch; there will NEVER be a Batman/Joker chemistry stronger than Kevin Conroy and Mark Hamill. But it also never adapts itself into its own life. If you've read the comic once you know every single beat. And then there's the opening act which has some solid ideas if you edit out Bruce and Barbara's sex scene. But it doesn't fit into the main story properly, it's like watching one episode of the Animated Series followed by a second extended episode. Come on Bruce Timm, you can do way better than that.

Suicide Squad

Speaking of doing better- I've heard several people claim this was the DC Universe's third strike. I disagree. They're getting on base (to milk the analogy) but they aren't scoring yet. There's a lot of fun to be had with this movie even if it comes off as the b-side of Batman: Assault on Arkham. Flawed, yes. But I think it's better than anything from the Burton/Schumacher era and way more enjoyable than The Dark Knight Rises.

Doctor Strange

I was impressed with this movie. The Doc really couldn't have shown up prior to the third phase of the MCU, but the series has earned this Inception leveled trippiness. The best part is the visual effects never abandon the audience. We're dealing with magic, and the script gives us enough information to keep us engaged but not so much that we have to start taking notes. It fits together better than Ant-Man, it maintains its pace through act three in a way that Iron Man didn't, and unlike Guardians of the Galaxy I actually cared about the characters. So bravo.

Office Christmas Party

I covered this one a two posts ago. Yay Kate McKinnon, boo raunchy humor, 1980's 9 to 5 was honestly the last movie where marijuana mattered. Quit treating it like it's edgy Hollywood, it's mundane.

Rogue One

I'll be blunt, this standalone movie doesn't stand alone. Not that anyone who sees it won't be familiar with the story it's supplementing but I think it's worth acknowledging that the film requires outside knowledge for access. So while it's not solid or even necessary, as a 'from a certain point of view' deleted feature it has a lot working in its favor. Prior to Rogue One, the Star Wars franchise has been about a clear good versus a clear evil. But war is much greyer and dirtier than that dichotomy, and it gives the main story a needed kick in the shin. Rogue One may not be a diamond, but it's a damn fine topaz. That sits much prettier than the glass marbles of the prequel trilogy.

Thursday, December 22, 2016

Merry Christmas! Let's Go Caroling!

The most vocal elements of the world around me have a love-hate relationship with Christmas music, and who can blame either extreme? On the one hand, the emotional content ranges from pure saccharine to bitter despair and every buffet item between; you're bound to find at least a handful of songs with which you connect. On the other hand, if I have to endure that damned Mariah Carey song one more friggin' time, I swear I'm going to throttle somebody.

But in the spirit of peace on earth let's suck it up and try to put smiles on the faces of the stupid little kids who seem to be everywhere. Music has always had a certain mathematical magic to it that connects people in ways no other stimulus can. And Christmas music has kind of a unique playing field in that it really encourages audiences to participate. There's a healthy dose of folk music juxtaposed with sacred hymns and a couple of showy pieces for soloists, all of which result in a multi-layered festival of melodies and chord intervals; which is probably how the denizens of Fraggle Rock feel year round.

So I wanted to do something blog-wise for a handful of the popular Christmas carols, perhaps as a sort of companion piece to my collection of less popular/rarely heard Christmas songs from last year. Now it is very hard to do any sort of comprehensive list; looking up popular Christmas songs in America on Wikipedia yields over 450 titles. And it's also hard to narrow it down to just my personal favorites because so much of the power behind a song is in the execution.

So instead I've compiled a list of popular Christmas songs that have had a single version that I feel has either put other versions to rest or done something unique with the familiar. Here they are in an order that only makes sense to me.

We Need a Little Christmas (Version: The Muppets Family Christmas 1987)

I'm glad I made sure this came up. You know the song "My Favorite Things" from The Sound of Music? And you know how it has some winter imagery in it, but it's really not about Christmas? Okay, good. Let's all say this together one time. That. Is. Not. A. F***ing. Christmas. Song. So stop putting it on Christmas albums, damn it! There.

With that said- "We Need A Little Christmas" is technically not a Christmas song either, as that point in the musical Mame is set way back in *gasp* the latter part of November. But considering that the point of the song is to intentionally usher in the holiday that's just around the corner I'm happy to let the context slide. Besides, in our modern world decorations go up in July. Slackers.

The version of the song that I feel best illustrates the sense of 'destination' would have to be the opening to The Muppets Family Christmas, which is and probably will always be the only crossover among The Muppets, Sesame Street, Fraggle Rock, and those God-awful Muppet Babies. The special was more of a hit-and-miss concept than a story, but in terms of assembling the (then) entire cast of Muppets it really is something unique. And nobody can capture the energy of optimism in this song like Kermit and his menagerie.

For the record, I would love to have chosen the version from the 2001 Disney Christmas Parade, but I could only find one Youtube video for it and the sound isn't very good (and I can tell from Eeyore's movements that the performer inside isn't me). Well, what is Christmas if not a time to grasp the fact that you can't have everything?

O Come O Come Emmanuel (Version: Kelly Clarkson -Wrapped in Red 2013)

I truly don't care about American Idol or anything that happened, or didn't, because of it. Try striking up a conversation with me about it if you're interested in seeing the blankest look my face can produce. But my wife wanted Kelly Clarkson's Christmas album, which means I'll be listening to Kelly Clarkson's Christmas album significantly more times than I ever would have on my own. And you know what? It doesn't suck.

It's not to say a whole lot stands out about it, but Clarkson's shout-singing fits the musical style she's going for. But the last track on the CD is her one verse take on "O Come O Come Emmanuel", and there's a noticeable mood shift. It just sounds dramatic. The music amounts to sustained chords as if something big is about to happen. Sadly, this is the final track and not the midpoint. But for what it is, it's a damn fine sendoff.

Sleigh Ride (Version: The Carpenters -Christmas Portrait 1978)

I come from a long line of divas, but here at the insignificant age of 44 I feel as though I have it relatively under control. But on occasion, a little thing gets to me. And escalates. The song "Sleigh Ride" is typically performed with the sound of a whip crack during the bridge. You know..."There's a Christmas party at the home of Far *crack* -mer Gray". I hate the use of that sound effect; hate, hate, hate it. It ruins Christmas for me.

So Richard and Karen Carpenter already have the advantage simply by not including it on their album Christmas Portrait. But let's acknowledge the success surrounding their version. Christmas Portrait is a genuine classic Christmas album, arguably THE soundtrack to pre-eighties Christmas. Several tracks are reminiscent of the early Disney songs, giving off a timeless vibe.

The Carpenters were known for their style which would be partitioned off to the Easy Listening category today (much to Richard's chagrin). And while inoffensive music may have been more the norm 40 years ago, in this day and age it's kind of a breath of fresh air. And "Sleigh Ride" starts softly and then builds to a fast, yet controlled tempo in much the way an actual sleigh ride not hijacked by John McClane would go. It's a real Christmas delight.

Jingle Bells? (Version: Barbara Streisand -A Christmas Album 1967)

Ah, "Jingle Bells". How many ways are there to perform this song? Even Schroeder managed to whip out three variations in one sitting per Lucy's request. In the aforementioned The Muppets Family Christmas, Kermit's nephew channeled his wounded inner tadpole to unleash the single most depressing version of the song with which to ever bum out generations of music lovers. And then there was the Ray Charles arrangement which is best left forgotten (nobody knows it out of the park every time).

But the one that tops all of them in terms of "WTF?" seguing into "That's freaking awesome!" is the Streisand tongue-twister adaptation; hence the question mark at the end of the title. If you haven't heard it before, give it a listen. You'll not only never unhear it, but you'll resent the laziness of every straight version from then on out.

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen (Version: Mannheim Steamroller -Christmas 1984)

Really two songs in one (notice the multiple links above). Chip Davis and party does a madrigal instrumental for three verses on track nine which cuts off abruptly. Pause. And massive mood whiplash as we go into a modern version with a guest appearance by "Carol of the Bells". Christmas has a legitimately dark side to it, but I can't think of anywhere else where it's felt more than on the Steamroller album.

"God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" has always been one of my favorite Christmas songs purely from the musical aesthetics. The minor key doesn't necessarily match the content of the lyrics, as it sounds more like a threat than a celebration. So perhaps it's telling that my absolute favorite version cuts the lyrics altogether.

Deck the Halls (Version: Bob Rivers -Twisted Christmas 1988)

Weird Al once suggested that every middle school child writes song parodies, but the key to his longevity is that he writes them very well. He probably wasn't thinking of the Bob Rivers company as an example of how to write half-assed parodies, but I'm certainly going to offer it up as a moderately successful offender (rhyming 'manner' with 'Santa'? Good God guys, come on!)

So "Wreck the Malls" does not get credit clever lyrics or passable for that matter. Nor is the idea behind it all that engaging. But you know what it does right? The musical arrangement rocks! The song makes you wonder why the hell Joan Jett hasn't put out a full Christmas album because this is essentially "I Love Deck the Halls".

O Holy Night (Version: Trans-Siberian Orchestra -Christmas Eve and Other Stories 1996)

This song is a showoff piece, and every soprano who's ever gotten their greedy paws on it knows that. And that's fine if you want to ignore the fact that Christmas is about humility, just know that you're getting on my nerves whenever you think the song is about you (although Jessica Simpson once managed to oversing the song until it was about nothing, so if you don't ever do that then I'll never have to throw eggs at your car). So here's an idea: let's take the soloist out entirely and see what happens.

I know you've heard the Trans-Siberian Orchestra's "Carol of the Bells", because it's epic and its everywhere this time of year. But unless you bought the album, you may have missed their "O Come All Ye Faithful/O Holy Night" hybrid, which I'd argue is even better. "O Come All Ye Faithful" is powerful, but it's upbeat; kind of a very merry heavy metal Christmas if you will. Then there's a bridge and the lead guitar takes over for one verse of "O Holy Night".

Now this isn't the mood whiplash of Steamroller's "God Rest Ye", this is more of a slow burn. At first it just sounds like a familiar melody. But the guitar gradually gets a little more vulnerable, and then you start to notice there's a pain behind it. By the time the chorus hits, the solo sounds like it's producing tears, leading to the prerequisite high note where it's in a genuine wail. Finally the music collapses into complete devastation. And just curls up on the floor.

Edgar Allen Poe once asserted that when music moves an audience to tears, it isn't because they are so overcome with joy. It's because the human soul longs to be reunited with the divine. Our conscious minds ordinarily block out the pain our souls feel for the sake of sanity and functionality. But once in a while something comes along to unlock that sense of loss and isolation. And music had that power in a single chord change that Poe would need a thousand of his words to achieve, if that. To anyone who has lost someone or something this time of year, or just feels like the festive season moves on around but without you, this is your carol.

Rocking Around the Christmas Tree (Version: Bella Thorne -Disney Channel Holiday Playlist 2012)

I had a wonderfully talented music teacher in elementary school named Mrs. McKee. She could rock the hell out of any song in her repertoire. The bulk of Christmas carols I know were first taught to me by Mrs. McKee, including "Rocking Around the Christmas Tree". But damn it all! I swear nobody else seems to know what kind of energy the song is supposed to have.

Brenda Lee (who I've only just found out is still alive at the age of 74), recorded the original in 1958 at the age of thirteen. I certainly can't discredit her for the jazzy-esc tempo that pervaded popular music of the time period. But ye gods people, evolve for crying out loud! Every cover of this song I'd heard (except for Mrs. McKee's) seems to think the song is legally required to remain in the fifties, creating a mood not so indicative of the titular 'rocking around' anything so much as meandering aimlessly through the food court. Luckily the Disney Channel imposed its generic drum beat onto Bella Thorne and told her to sing the melody.

Now I don't know anything about Bella Thorne. I hear she's pretty popular amongst an age bracket that I am not. As a performer I think she's only adequate here. I wouldn't be surprised if she showed up to the studio the day of and read the lyrics for the first time about twenty minutes before recording it

But whatever, that's not the point. The blessing on the table is somebody FINALLY gave us a version of this song that's danceable. Infectiously so. Let's all agree that any future covers of this carol will use the Bella Thorne version as the template, and maybe we can come up with a few new much needed verses to pad it out into a full production number.

Silent Night (Version: The Carpenters -Christmas Portrait 1978)

Again with The Carpenters? What gives? Am I worried that other songs aren't good enough for anyone else to hear? Well, let me come at this from a different angle. What's the first thing you think of when I mention Karen Carpenter? Some people will claim that she had a golden voice. And I'm not really here to dispute that opinion, but I think it's worth examining why people respond so strongly to her.

One thing I notice about Karen is she sings gently. I don't know what her pipes were capable of, but she seems to only push the vocal power enough to make the song work, whereas quite a lot of female singers have no indoor voice. Her range also stays comfortable, never wandering into the shrill descants. So she doesn't belt it out and she doesn't show off. How does that mean she has a golden voice? Well, probably because her style was soothing, always pitch perfect but somehow accessible. In the entertainment world our celebrities are our demi-humans, but Karen Carpenter was somehow the singer we wanted to be and actually felt like we could be.

But no, that's not the first thing you think of when I mention her. You're reminded of her death from the complications do to her anorexia. Eating disorders were either foreign or deeply misunderstood in 1983 when Karen suffered heart failure. By 1993 when I was diagnosed with anorexia there were a lot more resources and support, so ten years really can bring about genuine progress. But at the time of her death anorexia was shocking, and the fact that it happened to a woman who was essentially everyone's kind hearted music teacher made it a tragedy that continues to resonate.

Which brings us the long way around to "Silent Night", a hymn which naturally promotes introspection. Even a Methodist congregation who can barely keep time on the Doxology can stay together in four-part a cappella harmony on Christmas Eve with the lights out. You can't really screw this song up. But when you give the lead melody to Karen Carpenter and back her up with a choir that sounds like an ethereal lullaby, it transcends to a whole other level. And somewhere in the melancholy of it you can't help but realize that she's no longer with us, and you may very well be hearing the voice of an angel.

The Twelve Days of Christmas (Version: The Rock-afire Explosion 198?)

Let's end on an up note though. Fun fact: "The Twelve Days of Christmas" is the most popular song to change time signatures (back and forth between 4/4 and 3/4 time). Another fun fact: it's actually 'colly birds' not calling. And as per the original text it's 12 lords, 11 ladies, 10 pipers, and 9 drummers. So now you know.

We've all sung this one, and I'm sure we've all made up our own versions of it as well; I think mine involved Loch Ness Monsters, potatoes, and a basset hound named Dudley. So it's not really about doing the song right or wrong (12 lords, 11 ladies, damn it!) so much as it's about the fun factor/community feel.

For that we turn to an underrated ensemble of personalities who desperately demand a comeback, the wildlife of Showbiz Pizza Place. Despite creator Aaron Fechter voicing at least four of the animatronic characters himself, the performance feels strangely improvised. Between laid back Beach Bear's habit of changing the third day's gift every verse and the fact that the cast just breaks up laughing at one point, these are the animals you want to hang out with. Christmas is at its most inclusive when people are just enjoying the company of each other.

So that's it then, the sacred and the secular, the solemn and the spirited Christmas caroling bonanza. Have a wonderful holiday, and try to make some memories with your loved ones. I'll leave you with one more link to a classic holiday song that needs no cover version: 1966's Snoopy vs. the Red Baron by the Royal Guardsmen.

Merry Christmas!

Thursday, December 15, 2016

Editorial: How Christmas Stole the Grinch (A Comparative Look at Christmas Films)

I saw Office Christmas Party over the weekend, and I thought about doing a review of it for this week's blog (seeing as how I'm going for a Christmas theme during December). But truthfully, even though I liked the movie I didn't get enough out of it to really justify devoting a whole blog to it.

Here's the short version: Deadpool's buddy is the underachieving CEO of a technology branch. But his sister, a bitter Rachel Green, has recently gotten onto a power trip and is exercising her ability to lay off forty percent of his staff and/or shut down the whole damned branch; apparently because dad liked him more. But there's one last hope. By betting all of their resources on a single client and showing him a good Christmas party, it could save the branch and everyone's jobs. And Jason Bateman's in it.

Now, I know I'm being snide in my description, because it really is the only way I know how to connect with the world. It turns out I actually did like quite a lot of things about the movie. It's an ensemble character comedy, once again with Kate McKinnon's screen presence grabbing you (although I also expect some good post-SNL things from Vanessa Bayer). And unlike a piece of shit Christmas ensemble like 1994's Mixed Nuts, Office Christmas Party carefully sets up and executes the gradual escalation of the plot getting out of hand. My main problem was, I just didn't find it that funny.

I don't like giving courtesy laughs. More often than not I found myself merely smiling at the jokes and then choosing to top it off with a pseudo-laugh out of respect for the movie's efforts. First off, crude humor doesn't work for me. I find it's predictable and easy and almost always lazy. Secondly, we may actually be getting to a point where there are just no more jokes of shock value to tell. Case in point, from the moment I heard about 3D printers I thought "Some jackass is going to stick his junk in it". That was a couple of years ago. They did it in this movie, which means it's a couple of years outdated. And that's pretty much the target where the humor consistently lands.

But ignoring the fact that the movie doesn't succeed as a comedy, in a strange way it succeeds as a Christmas film. I came out of theater responding rather favorably to that element. Now I'd never given much thought to what makes a film a Christmas film. I'd always just assumed the genre referred to any movie set at Christmas. But then I got to thinking about it, and it turns out there's a bit more complexity to what qualifies a film as a 'Christmas movie'.

Take Die Hard. A lot of people insist Die Hard is a Christmas movie. I respectfully say bullshit. A Christmas movie is one you ignore eleven months out of the year and only dust off once the Black Friday crowds have pissed off. Die Hard is an iconic action movie to which every 'one man against impossible odds' action movie is compared. Every day out of the year somebody is watching Die Hard. So, no. Die Hard is a Christmas movie in the same way A Walk to Remember is a musical.

So I guess the question on the table is: What makes a Christmas film? Or more accurately, what distinguishes it as such from most other genres? To try to answer that, I'm going to turn to some of the films which are often cited (right or wrong) as Christmas classics; ones that I feel at least use the vocabulary correctly. Here they are.

A Charlie Brown Christmas (1965)
Kind of light on plot, but if there's ever been a cast of characters you want to hang out with every December, it's the Peanuts crew. And this simple tale captures a sense of community better than any other special I can think of.

How the Grinch Stole Christmas (1966)
Wow, the mid-sixties had a one-two punch when it came to classic Christmas entertainment. You have your Grinch, who's a rare villain protagonist to actually succeed in his goals yet still fail in the ramifications.

Scrooge (1970)
Ebenezer Scrooge has probably been played by more actors than Macbeth, but Albert Finney's portrayal is my absolute favorite. His Scrooge is at war with himself, and while he thinks he hates Christmas it's clear to the audience (and several of the supporting characters) that he really just hates the unaddressed pain that he's in. The period friendly, and sometimes haunting, music only supplements the action proper.

A Christmas Story (1983)
Kind of a themed series of encounters around little Ralphie whose happiness hinges on acquiring the MacGuffin of his desire. A child in an adult world ultimately has no power, but we certainly get sucked into believing along with him that the disenchanted mall Santa could have pulled through for him.

National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation (1989)
Kind of an odd one, as Chevy Chase really is the last Hollywood actor you'd associate with Christmas's prerequisite sentimentality. But even if you don't feel it, you can accept that his character does, and you wind up rooting for him from a comedic distance.

It's a Very Merry Muppet Christmas Movie (2002)
I've talked about this one before, essentially the film is Muppets -It's a Wonderful Life. But unlike their version of Treasure Island or The Wizard of Oz, the Muppets get to play themselves, which makes the emotions feel like they are REALLY happening to the foam and felt hand puppets.

Okay, that's our six member lineup. Let's see if they've got anything in common besides being set at Christmas.

The conflict:

At the heart of any story is conflict. When you have a clear protagonist and antagonist it's easy to know which side you're supposed to take. Kermit is a caring workaholic who always puts the needs of the many first, which makes him a better person than any of us. Mrs. Bitterman (whose name is an unbridled giveaway) has no place in her heart for abstraction. When you think about it, she may not be a very good person but she seems just fine as a boss. I sort of wonder, if this story had taken place in the summer would Kermit have been out of line for asking her to think of something other than the bottom line?

And there's the first idea that I'm going to set to the side. What is Christmas? There's the obvious answer: the celebration of the birth of Christ (an event that likely happened closer to the Easter season), but let's go a little deeper. I've read semi-conflicting notions as to why the day of December 25th was historically significant, but it seems to boil down to the winter solstice. Days are getting shorter. Plant life around you is dying. And in the many human ages prior to indoor temperature control, there is the very real possibility you might not live to see Spring.

Having a sense of mortality hovering above you naturally makes you feel a bit more introspective. You start asking questions like what's really important. Maybe your usual rat race has put you on autopilot, but the Christmas season grants you an awakening. But like I say, let's put that aside and check on our other villains.

Ralphie doesn't exactly have one. There's a couple of bullies but they're really just window dressing. Perhaps this is one case where Ralphie perceives a villain in his own story that we don't; i.e. his father. Most of his fears seem to flow back to how his father is going to react to Ralphie's shortcomings. And yet it turns out that Ralphie's father is the one who knew (apparently without being told) what gift would make Ralphie truly happy.

Charlie Brown doesn't have a villain unless you consider it's him versus the world, kind of like Clark Griswald in National Lampoon. In Clark's case, his boss instigates his misery, but he's really up against fate itself. Scrooge and the Grinch are their own villains.

The motive:

So that doesn't exactly help, so we'll pause that as well. Let's turn now to what each character wants. Scrooge is the most complicated. He claims he just wants to be left alone. Translated: stop asking me for more than what I'm already doing. As I said, he's in pain, and he may not even be aware of it. Likewise, he has lots of money but he lives like he's poverty stricken. Meaning he's conditioned himself into blindness for reality. He only sees that the world causes him pain.

Similarly, the Grinch is negatively affected by the joy of others and he thinks the only way to achieve inner peace is by making the world around him miserable. Ralphie's motives are practically as selfish, but at least his don't hurt anyone else. He just equates joy with a single relic, and he's a kid so you can't blame him.

Kermit and Clark are both in unfortunate situations that they may very well have brought on themselves. In Kermit's case, he's hoping for mercy from someone who delights in refusing it. Clark wants to make his family happy, and pushes himself into a meltdown trying. Whereas Kermit's hope is what keeps driving him forward, Clark's optimism is almost always his undoing.

And then we have Charlie Brown, who as wiser-than-me people have pointed out, is not a child but rather a metaphor for adult feelings. In reality, no child obsesses over what the true meaning of Christmas is, they just want the damn doll. But Charlie Brown wants meaning, the same way most of us do even if we don't always realize it. There is something inherently human about wanting to connect with something bigger.

So our motives are concepts: eliminating pain, enlightenment, and being a catalyst to connect others to...something. Maybe now we're getting somewhere.

The resolution:

Scrooge changes through the efforts of the supernatural. The Grinch changes through his own awakening. Ralphie fails in every single one of his efforts but still wins because his father knew what he really wanted. Kermit fails to the point of breaking but comes to understand that the Muppet Theater isn't the Muppets. Clark's house is a wreck and he's about to go to jail, but fate finally throws him a break because even it wants him to succeed. And Charlie Brown never 'wins', but by the end of the special success has become irrelevant.

I think this is the important distinction of Christmas films. The protagonist cannot succeed on their own accord, and it's conceivable they may not even get what they thought they wanted. If you're a person of faith, this fits in perfectly with the notion of a higher power which seems quite difficult to expunge from the Christmas season. I'm a Christian (Methodist, if you're keeping score) so naturally I'm going to interpret everything through a connection to God, even if I don't always phrase it that way. As such, for me Christmas is about a celebration of God's love; worded secularly: a stronger awareness that we're not in control and it's better that way.

So maybe the real villains of Christmas stories are human failings. With Kermit, his villain is self-doubt, not Mrs. Bitterman. Clark's is probably his lack of foresight. The Grinch and Scrooge both have a stubbornness against self-reflecting. Charlie Brown is trying to swim in deeper waters. And Ralphie? I'm reaching a bit here, but perhaps his villain is a kind of pride. A feeling that if he does something he'll get what he wants in a cause and effect relationship. But in the end he only gets what he wants because something in the universe beyond his comprehension decided to give it to him.

Humility is an incredibly hard thing to learn, and almost impossible to teach. So retrieving our earlier discussion about Christmas awakening, this season may ultimately be about humility. The forces of nature have the ability to kill every one of us. Our Creator is under no obligation to care one way or the other about our fate. We're neither promised nor owed a tomorrow. But most of us will have one, and once in a while we're reminded to be thankful for it. And hopefully the select few who don't will look back on their yesterdays with more joy than pain.

So in conclusion, this is what I think a Christmas film is. It's a film set in the month of December where the fundamental message is "It's not about you". "What is it about?" you might ask. Well, that's a mystery. I say it's about God because I'm a Christian (and still Methodist). You may not. You may think it's about something else. You may not know what you think it's about, or even care. But the bottom line is: life, time, and the universe doesn't begin and end with us. And a Christmas film acknowledges that there is something bigger than us, and we have the blessing to be a part of it.

Wednesday, December 7, 2016

Three Christmas Short Stories: The True Meaning of Christmas/Angel on Campus/Hurry Down the Chimney

Perhaps as my way of finishing out my abbreviated Short Story Week 2016 I've churned out three Christmas themed short stories. The first one comes to you courtesy of my snarky inner child. The second is based on a real story that my mom used to tell. The last one is a Carousel piece; Zel's first Christmas decorating experience (without proper instructions). Have a jolly season!

The True Meaning of Christmas

Once upon a time there was an old man who didn't know the true meaning of Christmas. And everyone in town used to harass him and make fun of him and call him at three in the morning to annoy him just because he didn't know the true meaning of Christmas.

And this went on for years. It became part of the town's annual tradition to mock the old man with as much gusto as possible. And so one winter, a bunch of kids were standing outside his house singing a carol that they had written called "You Don't Know the True Meaning of Christmas" and he got so mad that he threw his coffee at them. He stormed back into his house and slammed the door twice (because the first time it didn't catch properly), sank down into his chair, and sulked.

He thought long and hard about his predicament, and eventually decided that if he learned the true meaning of Christmas it might solve the problem. So he put on his hat, turned off all the lights, unplugged the microwave, and went out into the snow to search for the meaning.

The old man walked for several blocks, grumbling to himself about how far away the nearest house was. But finally he got to a door and knocked, and a little boy opened it. The old man asked the little boy if he knew the true meaning of Christmas, but the boy refused to say anything. "Are you not supposed to talk to strangers?" the old man asked and the boy nodded his head. So the old man introduced himself and asked again about Christmas, but the boy didn't have any useful information and he screamed and ran away and was never heard from again.

So then the old man went further into town where he found a traffic cop standing in the middle of an intersection yelling at all of the honking cars to shut up. The old man asked the cop if he knew the true meaning of Christmas. The cop said no and ran away screaming and was never heard from again.

The old man hobbled on until he eventually spotted a dog in an alleyway. He asked the dog if it knew the true meaning of Christmas, but the dog didn't say anything because it was a dog. And so the old man continued on, feeling pretty stupid for having tried that.

Further on down the street was the town hall where everybody else was having a meeting. The old man kicked the doors in, which was impressive considering they were meant to swing outwards, and cried out "Does anybody know the true meaning of Christmas?"

For a moment nobody said anything, just glancing awkwardly at each other. Then in unison they looked at the old man and said "No".

The old man was aghast. He threw his hat on the floor and jumped on it. "You all suck!" he declared. "For years you've been mocking me and laughing at me because I don't know the true meaning of Christmas, and not one of you is any better!"

So the mayor stepped forward and said "Well, yeah. We're bullies. Everybody in this town is a bully. We don't really like ourselves very much. But then Christmas comes around and we try to make ourselves feel better by making someone else feel worse."

"So let me get this straight," said the old man. "None of you actually have anything against me, but because I'm an easy target you've singled me out?"

The mayor nodded. "That pretty much sums it up." And then everyone in the town hall started making fun of the old man, and pointing at him and laughing, and the kids started singing "You Don't Know the True Meaning of Christmas" at him; and he stood there completely perplexed as to how to react. But somehow it didn't bother him quite as much.


Angel on Campus

She'd never seen snow before, not actual snow. Flakes on occasion, and maybe the odd frozen dew that one could compile into a single snowball. This, however, was real snow. And it covered the university campus.

On any other morning she'd think it a sight of beauty. But her mind was on her final exam; at least as much as sleep deprivation, as well as the cold wetness to which she was unaccustomed, would allow. Her mind was on the trepidation that the hours, days, semester that she'd spent preparing for this one last obstacle were insufficient. Her mind was on the biting blast of winter's breath which refused to show her numb face any compassion, precipitating droplets in the corners of her eyes which may have been any combination of sweat and condensation. Her mind was on the barricade between a struggle of the present and a sanctuary she couldn't envision. And even that barricade drifted further away, as her foot touched the base of the incline to the stone halls above (the same one she'd traversed for months without a second thought) and slid out from under her, sending her face down into the white blanket.

Now this hill wasn't steep, but a journey from bottom to top had a length. And now that it was frozen over, that length was undefinable. She regained her footing and took another step which promptly set her back on the flat ground. Again and again she tried. Softly. Carefully. Brute force. Moving sideways. Crawling. Each attempt devoured a few precious moments between her and the exam and only deposited her back at the base of the hill.

Grit and determination led to panic, which made way into a scream that was lost among the howling of the winter's zephyr. One final surge of all her strength to make the slightest progress against the elements left her in tears. And resignation.

It was at this moment someone came, whistling to himself, and walking. Carefree. In a pair of snowshoes.

She'd never seen snowshoes before. She didn't have time to even process what they were before he spotted her, sobbing in a heap. He strolled over to where she squatted in the ice and put his arm around her. And carried her up the hill.

Not a word was spoken as her feet dangled helplessly behind her from the bottom of the incline to the top. She clutched his chest as if her life were threatened. And he cradled her all the way into the building, to a small bench that rested only a few yards away from her final exam.

After that he was gone, and she never saw him again. But she thought of him every time the seasons turned cold, and always said a silent prayer of thanks.


Hurry Down the Chimney

Zelphina took an inventory of every potential holiday themed item she had scattered on the floor of the condominium, and it dumbfounded her.

Sis? came the voice of her long gone brother in her head; even in his absence he would always be there for her. Why don't you wait for Caris to help you?
Because I love her. And I've been an absolute wraith of a girlfriend lately.
You judge your imperfections as unforgivable.
Damn right I do. Now help me figure out what these various items are for.
Now how would I have any information about this festival that you don't?
Because you were always smarter than me.
Fair point. So you have this plastic thing that looks like a tree?
I think it's supposed to be a tree.
Aren't trees typically outdoors?
Yes, but in the month of December humans bring trees inside as a metaphor.
For what?
That's what I'm asking you.
Didn't Caris leave you some music to research?
Yes. See? That's why you're smarter than me.



I knew the tree was related to Christmas.
Why are they rocking around it?
I don't know. It has something to do with cold weather right?
You think humans bring trees inside to keep them warm.
No that would kill the tree.
But the trees die anyw-
Wait! It's supposed to be religious, right?
That would be the impression you've gotten.
Religions are about death and rebirth. Winter is death. The tree is rebirth!
So the tree is growing in their homes?
Because the winter couldn't kill it! And that's why they're rocking around it! Because it's burst through the floor!
So when they say 'hop' at the Christmas party they're dodging the roots?
Or bobcats. I think those live in trees. And people put bells on the bobcats' tails.
So we set the tree in the middle of the room.
Perfect! What else do we have?


What is 'manger'? More mange?
Manager? M-anger? German? Gramen? Mr. Gane?
I don't think it's an anagram.
What about this? It's a hoop with Christmas tree branches.
Try it out.
...It's not very aerodynamic.
Moving on then, who's this man with the beard?
Oh, I've heard about him! I think that's Ebenezer Scrooge!
The guy who kept getting assaulted by the ghosts?
Yes! So we can reuse the Halloween decorations. We'll just set him in the graveyard and have all the scary things attacking him.
Great! So what do we do with the turkey in the hat?


"Everybody knows a turkey!" I knew I heard that line in one of the songs!
So you can put all the manger characters around the turkey.
Now we've got some kind of a deer with a nose that lights up.
What else do people do this time of year?
Sit inside and watch movies? Oh, I know! The deer must replace that lion that shows up before movies.
And that hoop goes around his head.


All right, we've got a set of cloth shoes for giants.
............
Cover the ceiling fan blades?
Does that actually make it warmer?
No, but remember everything is a metaphor.


Okay, that's the last of the lights.
Good. That's also the last of the staple gun. Are you sure stars are supposed to blink in color?
Light refracts differently depending on where you are in the world. This ceiling is meant to represent the entire night sky.
That just leaves us with these tubes of paper.
I'm thinking white side up. Like snow.
You going to cover the floor?
I'm going to cover everything.



Caris pulled her car into the lot completely unprepared for the sight that awaited her. Zelphina had gotten into the gift wrapping ribbon, that much was clear. Zel had also apparently mistaken it for some kind of Christmas fabric, as she had fashioned the half-inch wide strip into a sort of continuous bathing suit which she was now wearing. Caris's jaw dropped as her girlfriend scurried past several of the other tenants over to Caris's driver's side window.

Before Caris could find her voice, Zelphina was in a hyperactive solioquy including gratitude for her coming home, apologizies for Zel's antisocial tendancies, and something about a lion and a hula hoop that Caris couldn't quite follow the logic of.

"Um, honey?" she said when she finally managed the necessary focus. "What are you wearing?"

"It's-" Zelphina took a moment to re-examine her choice attire. "I'm not really sure. Is this not what it's for?"

Caris's head couldn't decide whether to giggle in delight, grab her jacket to shield her girlfriend, or test the theory that one careful tug would unravel the thing entirely. In the end, the only response she could muster was a tender smile. "It's perfect."

Zelphina sighed proudly. "I'm so glad you like it. I've missed you terribly."

Caris pulled herself out of the car and quickly took Zelphina's hand. "Come on sweetie, let's get you back inside."

Zelphina's face lit up. "You're going to love what I've done to the living room!"

Caris blinked. Many, many times. She refused to let her smile fade no matter how many times the phrase 'My naked girlfriend has done something to the living room' surged through her mind. "I can't wait to see sweetie."

Thursday, December 1, 2016

Test Your Knowledge at the Video Game Christmas Parade

I think this is the last one of these I really have access to anymore. You may very well remember my puzzle adventures of the past with Super Mario P.I., a virus threat from Aperture Science (starring GLaDOS), and my epic Halloween survival/horror love letter The Twelfth Toll. Well, this was the puzzle I created for 2013's December game night, and it proved to be the most popular of the series.

So enjoy it, or I'll sick Jacob Marley on you.








Tuesday, November 22, 2016

The Top Ten Animated Cartoons (5-1)

If you missed part one of this animated short retrospective, you can follow the hyperlink once you're done feeling the prerequisite shame and remorse that you deserve. Everyone else, enjoy your superiority while it lasts. Let's jump into the Chuck Jones dominated top five.

5. One Froggy Evening (1955, Chuck Jones)

A guy with a mustache happens upon a frog with the unique gift of a well trained baritone voice. Mustache immediately sees dollar signs but finds the frog is unwilling to perform for anyone but him. Despite his best efforts to show off his discovery free lance, Mustache winds up broken and penniless, at which point he returns the frog to its place of origin and vanishes without a word. Skip ahead to the future where another man happens upon the frog in nearly identical circumstances and gives the audience an ironic smirk, as we know what's about to happen all over again.

Why is it on the list?

Okay, let me preface this with: I have never felt an attachment to this cartoon. As a child I liked the music, and the story engaged me enough, but the only emotional takeaway I had was the frustration of "Get the frigging curtain open". Viewing it as an adult, I have to admit Michael Maltese wrote an amazingly concise story that could never have been told through a medium better than an animated cartoon. All the elements work exactly the way Jones and Maltese meant for them to. I shun the word 'perfection' because it always motivates me to find and/or create a flaw in the work, but I can accept this short has an unshakable artistic integrity.

The thing is, I just don't like it. It's a flavor I find myself reacting against. One Froggy Evening is so intentionally heartless that I find it chipping away at my already fragile mood the more I think about it. And it's not to say that I would change one thing about it, or suggest that the Jones unit should have dished out another Road Runner cartoon instead. There is a place, and need, for cynicism in every art form. Human nature is inherently self-centered, and it's healthy to have a slap in the face reminder of that once in a while. But it doesn't mean I have to like it.

What would I choose instead?

I wouldn't, in good conscience. Despite my personal feelings, this cartoon earns its top 5 spot. But I really need something funny and light to cleanse the palette, and for that I turn to 1952's Hic-cup Pup, courtesy of the Hanna-Barbera duo for MGM.

Tom and Jerry cartoons aren't exactly non-formulaic; if you've seen one, you pretty much get it. But each short typically has that one element to distinguish it from the rest of the library. In this case it's one of the most effective uses of Spike the bulldog. In terms of brute power the cartoon hierarchy goes mouse<cat<dog, and ordinarily you'd expect the dog to be the biggest bully of the bunch. But this short quickly establishes Spike as a loving father concerned about the well-being of his son, as such he's the only character with unselfish motivations and our sympathies are meant to lie with him.

Then the cat and mouse show up causing their characteristic ruckus, which inevitably wakes up the puppy giving him a case of the hiccups. Tom in full Wile E. Coyote plus vindictiveness mode; no need to even explain why he and the mouse are on disagreeable terms. Jerry is usually relegated to 'hero' status but here he's such a smug son of a bitch you really wouldn't mind seeing him pounded. This cartoon is an absolute delight. Everything about it (from the progression of the tension to the facial expressions) registers on the smile-to-laugh spectrum; and the resolution is gratifying. Jerry escapes with his health in the end, but it's technically a victory for Tom, which is always a nice touch.

4. Duck Dodgers in the 24 1/2 Century (1953, Chuck Jones)

This is obviously a parody of Buck Rogers, a 1928 pulp magazine serial turned radio show, film, multiple television series and World's Fair attraction (none of which really mean anything now apart from name recognition). But you don't really need to know that to watch the cartoon, as the tropes on display wind up in pretty much every space opera in existence. Daffy is the theoretical hero sent to recover the MacGuffin in the only place it exists, but has to compete in a global land war with the ruthless, but more competent, Marvin the Martian. After losing over and over, Daffy finally achieves an epic pyrrhic victory, and possibly dies in space if you think too hard about it.

Why is it on the list?

*sigh* I have no idea. Some people really like it I guess? I mean there's not anything wrong with it, but aside from the creation of Daffy's newest persona there's nothing about it that stands out to me either. I certainly don't think it's top 10 cartoon material even if you limit it to Loony Tunes shorts alone. Hell, just in the Daffy/Porky pairings under Chuck Jones I think both Robin Hood Daffy and Drip-Along Daffy are substantially better.  So I don't know why people single this one out so much. The survey was done in 1994, and there may have been a prevalent Cold War feeling left over which the short inadvertently ties into, but it has neither the punch of Dr. Seuss's The Butter Battle Book nor the fun factor of Mad Magazine's Spy vs. Spy.

What would I choose instead?

I don't remember how clear I was in the first blog, but my alternative suggestions are not necessarily my nominations for the top ten cartoons. Each one is merely a similar-ish cartoon to the one that has already been selected which I feel is worth a mention for one reason or another. Not too many space-themed shorts come to mind, so instead I'm going to focus on a cartoon that I feel handles the genre spoof element much more effectively. That would be 1952's Disney short How to be a Detective starring Goofy.

The title insists it's part of the 'How-to' series, but it's really its own isolated entity. Goofy plays a private eye hired by a dame in a wedding dress to "find Al" (sadly, a few decades too early to refer to Mr. Yankovic). Disney is known for being more family friendly than Tex "get crap past the radar" Avery, but holy shit! In the first twenty seconds there's a suicide, someone trying to drop someone else off a building ledge, and one character murdering another character with a hangman's noose (both of whom look like Goofy). Disney's not screwing around here. From there, the story proper takes off and a LOT happens in six minutes, including a drugging, and attempted drowning, and a pretty damn impressive car chase. The short hits all the major tropes of the detective noir and features a 'Who's Who' ensemble of classic voice actors (Pinto Colvig, Billy Bletcher, and June Foray). As an added bonus, Goofy demonstrates he's a relatively competent P.I. While he's never technically on the right track he always has an intuitive sense of which direction to go. He's kind of the embodiment of a GPS.

3. The Band Concert (1935, Wilfred Jackson)

Up until about ten minutes ago I was scratching my head over this one. "Really?" I said out loud in a falsetto voice (to startle my co-workers), "This is the highest rated cartoon from the studio that gave us Lonesome Ghosts and Donald in Mathmagic Land?" I also had no idea who the hell Wilfred Jackson was, considering the Disney company isn't exactly generous when it comes to giving credit to its supporting talent. Jackson, it turns out, was an animator/composer who was vital to developing the technology that added a soundtrack to Steamboat Willie. His talent is all over Fantasia and the Silly Symphonies, including the Academy Award winning short The Old Mill.

The Band Concert is essentially an integration of sound and visual gags, full of slapstick and a comedic sense of grace (and the single most effective use of "Turkey in the Straw" as a rebellion). Mickey Mouse conducts his small, but versatile orchestra with stubborn delusions of high artistry. Enter the talented yet boorish Donald Duck (read: working class, we do love our structures) who insists on redirecting the performance to fit his antics. I never realized before today that the duck has the only lines of dialogue in this whole cartoon. High art temporarily wins out until a coincidentally summoned force of nature equalizes the playing field. And we're left feeling Donald's moral victory as well as empathizing with the band's "F- you!" towards him.

Why is it on the list?

I have to admit, going into this blog I didn't show this cartoon the respect it deserves. But now that I've actually put forth the smallest measurement of effort to research it, I can totally get behind the cartoon's placement. There's an obvious greatness to the short, but there's an even greater greatness on a subtle level.

What would I choose instead?

So I was originally going to direct you to 1942's Symphony Hour which is a sort of spiritual successor involving a classical medley and then the Spike Jones version (including a cathartic moment where easygoing Mickey literally threatens to shoot Donald in the face). But I think instead I'm going to give a nod to the beautiful 1991 interactive movie Dragon's Lair II: Time Warp by Don Bluth.

The original Dragon's Lair is an iconic arcade game, with a lesser known but still wonderful sequel. It's hard to say which of the two is better, or makes a better game, but Dragon's Lair II certainly works much better as a watchable short film. From beginning to end Dirk the Daring is in an obstacle course of complete chaos, and it just seems to build relentlessly. The prehistoric scene is epic on its own, and the concise version of Alice in Wonderland has to be seen to be believed. But it's the Beethoven's Fifth Symphony segment that feels most like a nod to The Band Concert. Beethoven's creative energy creates a whirlwind of musical notes and instruments that torments Dirk all the way up into the stratosphere and down again. All we're missing is Donald's lone applause at the end.

2. Duck Amuck (1953, Chuck Jones)

You have to know this one already. Daffy Duck versus the animator; spoiler alert: Bugs (I know, not much of a warning, but come on). Daffy isn't just a legendary character, he's an honest to God metaphor. We're all Daffy. It's the magic behind why he can be so unlovable and so un-unlovable at the same time. He's humanity's id; given snark, a thesaurus, and a detachable beak. Chuck Jones once said that he always hoped to see Bugs when he looked in the mirror but he usually saw Daffy. Perhaps being the sadistic bastards that we all truly are, it comes as little surprise that we want to see Daffy erupt. When the duck does it, in a strange way it liberates our own repressed inner children. Hence, we watch Daffy get beaten down over and over and it never stops being funny.

Why is it on the list?

You're kidding, right (anonymous reader who has no control over the words I type)? Whenever I get into a discussion about whether or nor comedy has an artistic side (which happens more often than you'd imagine) this short is one of my go-to examples. If Duck Amuck was merely about pissing off Daffy that would be awesome enough. But this is equally about an artist's experiment with character. When does Daffy stop being Daffy? If you change his color or shape? If you take his voice away? If you take away everything but his voice?

There is a beat in the cartoon between where Daffy's body gets erased entirely and he grumbles "All right, wise guy. Where am I?" In that one beat, there is nothing on the screen but a blank white canvas. And yet, because of the context, there is a tension. And from nothing other than our own feeling, Daffy is still there. There are countless characters who only live (and die) when they're presented to us, and some aren't even strong enough to come to life despite the production team's efforts. Daffy is one of those rarities who lives in the collective consciousness, like Santa Claus or the monster under the bed. And we are free to laugh at his misfortune and suffering, because we intuitively know something about him that he doesn't. He's unbreakable.

What would I choose instead?

There really isn't anything that tops this short, or even comes close. So I think I'd prefer to bring up 1955's Rabbit Rampage, also by Chuck Jones. This is an identical (almost plagiarized) premise with Bugs Bunny in Daffy's role and Elmer Fudd as the animator. And while a few of the gags bring smiles, the most interesting thing to me about it is why it ultimately doesn't work.

If Daffy is the id, Bugs is the ego, and ego actually can be broken (which is why the bunny usually has the animators on his side). Id and ego also want very different things. Daffy HAS to be in the cartoon. He needs the spotlight more than he needs oxygen. As such, he is willing to endure any abuse anyone throws at him just to stay in front of the audience. Bugs has no unfulfilled needs. Elmer's monkey business is more of a nuisance to him than a threat. And unlike Daffy, Bugs has every intention and reason to walk off the cartoon.

From there it's nothing more than an endurance test. Bugs knows he only has to make it to the end of the cartoon. It's a weaker motivation, and the comedy never feels like it's more than time filler. By the end of Rabbit Rampage I've gotten bored. With Duck Amuck I'm ready for another twenty minutes of Daffy.

1. What's Opera, Doc? (1957, Chuck Jones)

You've got to admit this was ambitious. Cartoons have had a history of ruining classical compositions forever, while immortalizing them. I don't know if Franz Liszt would be offended or flattered that his Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 had become the unofficial theme song of classical comedy.

So what's the first thing you think of when I say Richard Wagner? No, for once Jim Steinman is not the correct answer. I'll retract the question in favor of, is it possible to hear Ride of the Valkyries without transposing the lyrics "Kill the Wabbit" onto it? If you said anything but 'no', go sit in the corner until I tell you otherwise.

There's very little to say about this cartoon that hasn't been said already. What you need to know, if you don't already, is how much work went into it. Chuck Jones and Michael Maltese took the then-stale Elmer/Bugs chase formula and adapted it to a musical style that most of us (rightfully) ignore. Then they went through the arduous task of teaching accurate ballet steps to the rabbit and leave you wondering if there's been a romantic subtext between Elmer and Bugs this whole time.

Why is it on the list?

Because it deserves to be. There's no way around it. All of the hard work that went into it, and wasn't initially appreciated, earns it a spot on the list and in the Library of Congress's National Film Registry preservation.

Now, do I think it's flawless? Not quite, and I realize I'm impossible to please. Given the work conditions under producer Edward Selzer, it's a lucky break this short was made at all. But there's a noticeable skip in the narrative right in the middle when we jump from the opening sequence to Bugs in drag. I feel like Elmer needed to keep him running for a few minutes, and being a threat for the first time show how Bugs's usual gimmicks aren't working before he has to resort to seduction. Yeah, I'm nitpicking. *bad blogger*

Now it's a personal preference, I happen to like The Rabbit of Seville more than What's Opera, Doc?. And if I'd been a registered voter for this list, I would have campaigned for Duck Amuck to take the top spot. But I honestly get why this was selected for the highest honors. It really is brilliant. And that closing bit when Elmer finally kills Bugs is Bambi's-mother-level heart wrenching. He sits up to give the punch line, but it's too late. I'm in tears.

What would I choose instead?

I've got nothing.

But that's not going to shut me up. I've made it a point to throw some love to cartoon shorts that didn't show up on the Top 50 list. This last one is no exception; 1984's Jumping by Osamu Tezuka. No, it's not remotely related to What's Opera, Doc?, but it may be the most captivating six and a half minutes of animation I've ever seen. It takes a simple concept to show things that are going on simultaneously in our world and find both the humor and the darkness in it (warning: brief nudity and depictions of war, you tell me which is worse to show).

I really am surprised this one isn't mentioned in the Top 50, and I'm wondering if it somehow slipped past the ballot. But honestly, do yourself a favor and click the link to watch it.

And I'll see you all after Thanksgiving.

Tuesday, November 15, 2016

The Top Ten Animated Cartoons (10-6)

I didn't post a blog last week. To be honest I just haven't had it in me. I don't really know who all regularly visits my blog site, but suffice to say, I'm part of the forty-whatever percent who feels like our nation just got beaten up by a bully.

It's been a struggle going back to my regular life and forcing smiles where they're required. I've been doing everything possible to not think about the next four years, and the most tried and true form of escapism that seems to work on my depression is binge watching old cartoons. So in lieu of my own ability to feel a sense of humor, I'm going to borrow some from the masters. More specifically, I'm taking a look at the 50 greatest cartoons as selected by 1000 animation professionals (yeah, what could go wrong when groups of people vote on something?) and go through the top ten, to see what I think about the selections and if I can come up with a similar cartoon that I believe might be better overall.

10. King-Size Canary (1947, Tex Avery)

Ah, Tex Avery. His influence on cartoons can't be overstated. If I understand history correctly, he's ultimately the reason we have the Loony Tunes. In the black and white era, every studio was trying to be Walt Disney, and Avery was the pioneer who said "Screw that! We're doing our own thing" or something similar. Avery was a virtuoso gag man, and had a knack for timing that VERY few of his contemporaries could match, and damn near nobody today. He also had the highest batting average when it came to racially offensive jokes in the golden age of cartoons. Um, thanks for that?

King-Size Canary is about a starving alley cat who spies a domestic canary and decides to make an easy meal out of it. But unlike the more famous Sylvester/Tweety series, this cat receives relatively little resistance in achieving said goal. The plot happens when he realizes he can make the tiny bird grow via Jumbo-Gro plant formula. Of course then the cat has to make himself bigger to deal with the now overpowered bird. Bring in a mouse and a dog, and things quickly get out of control where there's nowhere on the earth to go.

Why is it on the list?

Probably because it was animators voting, and I imagine they liked the way the cartoon played with size and perspective. And while I admit, the variation on the cat-chases-canary formula (the latter of which really doesn't factor into much screen time despite the title) is refreshing, this is far from Tex Avery's best and/or most creative work. It's memorable but not really that special.

What would I choose instead?

Avery has several great ones, a few of which appear elsewhere on the 50 greatest list, but I'm partial to 1955's Sh-h-h-h-h-h. This was Avery's final cartoon for the Walter Lantz studio when Avery himself was dealing with the full force of his depression, and the cynical edge runs rampant. Mr. Twiddle is a jazz percussionist who begins to have nervous tremors when he's around loud sounds. His doctor informs him that he requires absolute quiet recovery or his nerves will cause him to explode. All seems well at the world's quietest resort until Mr. Twiddle finds himself in a room next to two obnoxious people who laugh non-stop while playing a trombone. Our sympathy lies with Mr. Twiddle even as his reasonable requests that the couple discontinue their activities escalates into homicide. And yes, he explodes at the end, making Mr. Twiddle a kind of first draft Frank Grimes.

9. Gerald McBoing-Boing (1951, Robert Cannon)

I hadn't heard of this one until I looked at the list, but it's based on a lesser known Dr. Seuss story. Gerald is a kid who only communicates through sound effects, like a Foley artist. Gerald's father is overbearing about the 'impediment'. His mother seems a bit more sympathetic, but she doesn't really stand up for him. Gerald nearly runs away, but gets discovered by a radio show producer who uses Gerald's talents to great success. Then how the reindeer loved him.

Why is it on the list?

Boy, you got me. It's not very good. For one thing, some people like the limited animation style that became popular for television. For another, some people connect with the short based on experiences with children who have disabilities; autism seems to be the one most frequently mentioned. Both are fair points but they create more problems. First, the concept of Gerald's Michael Winslow skillset is never close to being realized in the anything-an-happen world of cartoons. Second, the dad's an asshole. He only loves his boy once Gerald becomes successful. It makes the ending unintentionally bittersweet, and the production team really could have addressed that issue.

What would I have chosen instead?

Sticking with the theme of a short based on the works of Dr. Seuss, I'd go with 1973's version of Green Eggs and Ham, directed by Hawley Pratt and produced by the always great Friz Freleng. Imagine you've been handed the source material, basically the gospel of children's literature, and told to adapt it for television. How the hell do you bring anything new to the story without disrupting the purity of it? Well, this version did it. Everybody, from the animators to voice acting veteran Paul Winchell, is on martial arts leveled balance between sarcasm and innocence. The sheer number of songs crammed into six minutes simply has to be witnessed, and in the end you have a brilliant piece of absurdist comedy.

8. Porky in Wackyland (1938, Robert Clampett)

Bob Clampett was cut from the same magician's cloak as Tex Avery, although Avery was more of a sleight-of-hand illusionist while Clampett did more showy Vegas-styled tricks. Porky in Wackyland is essentially an excuse to show off weird creatures from the unleashed minds of cartoonists. Porky is on a quest to fly to darkest Africa to find the last remaining Dodo bird, if you care. You don't by the way. You're not invested in the plot, you're going for the ride through the bizarre.

Why is it on the list?

Eh, animators again. I mean, yeah it's creative. In the first few minutes there is a LOT to look at and take in. You get the sense that this is the world that Toon Town in Who Framed Roger Rabbit was going for and not quite getting there. And aficionados love the classics, so that's a factor. But for all of the passion behind the design of the world, the end product really doesn't amount to much. Kind of like a Tim Burton film.

What would I have chosen instead?

1948's The Cat That Hated People. Tex Avery took several elements from multiple Bob Clampett cartoons and assembled them into a beautifully surreal fable. The gags are divided into three sections. The first is a series of flashbacks, explaining why the Jimmy Durante sounding cat has developed such a dislike of people. The second is a quickie sequence involving a rocket trip to the moon. And lastly, life on the moon turns out to be the celestial version of Wackyland; equally uninhabitable for anyone of dignity. In the end the cat realizes he is much better off being stepped on by the people he formerly eschewed.

7. Red Hot Riding Hood (1943, Tex Avery)

I thought I had seen this cartoon before. It turns out I'd only seen the first act in specials, and then every rehash of the idea Avery did in subsequent years, including 1949's Little Rural Riding Hood which shows up at #23 on the 50 greatest list. Imagine my surprise to find out there's more to the cartoon than just the wolf catcalling Red. Go on. Take a few moments to imagine my surprise.

Wow. My surprise really isn't that interesting, is it? So you have a classic tale translated into a (then) modern setting where Granny owns a nightclub, Red is a showgirl, and the wolf is a well-dressed sexual predator. Wolfie's lust for Red lands him in a role reversal situation opposite an extremely excited and durable Granny. Being the prey instead of the predator drives the wolf to suicide, although in the afterlife he's learned nothing. Because he's a man.

Why is it on the list?

Well, it's funny for one thing. The story may not be particularly complicated, but it's surprisingly engaging. And there's admittedly the sex appeal, although it's not nearly as big a deal as the short's reputation would have you believe. But the thing I like most about it is the way the character of Red comes across. Usually in an over-the-top comedy like this, the female becomes nothing more than a pair of legs, and this winds up being the case in many of Avery's follow-up shorts. But here, Red is allowed to get her hands a little dirty. She seems quite capable of taking care of herself, and the "No!" she screams at the wolf's advances isn't that of a helpless damsel. It's a forceful "I'm spelling this out for you, dip shit!" refusal.

What would I have chosen instead?

You know, I'm actually quite fine with this one being here. It's not my favorite cartoon per se but I certainly see the appeal. And I can't really think of another cartoon that handled similar subject material better. So instead I just want to spotlight my favorite Tex Avery cartoon, one that didn't make the 50 greatest list: 1952's Rock-a-Bye Bear. You start with the one gag, someone has to stay quiet around a larger character, and as such they have to keep holding in their screams until they're able to run a healthy distance away. Then you take the first half of the cartoon to carefully set up the needed elements (an easygoing everyman protagonist and a competing rat-bastard karmic trickster). And then you top it off with a flawless voice performance from Daws Butler, a name not as instantly recognizable as Mel Blanc's but Butler was certainly in Blanc's league. The result is pure magic.

6. Gertie the Dinosaur (1914, Winsor McCay)

Winsor McCay was Walt Disney's Walt Disney. Disney may have been animation's number one architect, but McCay lay out the foundation. Nowhere is this more evident than in the painstakingly hand drawn frames of vaudeville's Gertie the Dinosaur. Gertie is sort of a golden retriever in the body of a brontosaurus, aiming to please but not entirely without her own mindset. She wasn't the first animated character but she was historically the first with a well-defined personality, and the public fell in love with her.

Why is it on the list?

Why wouldn't it be on the list? Sure there's not much in the way of plot; Gertie is really just a showcase of what animation can do. But something was clearly ignited when those big feet of hers first stepped onto the screen, and that flame has been burning ever since. The animators who voted for her knew that you have to honor the past. May Gertie live on forever.

What would I have chosen instead?

Get real. This film was a once in all of our lifetimes event. Considering Gertie is in the public domain now, you have to wonder why we haven't seen more of her from other artists. Maybe they just find her too much of a sacred territory to give it a shot? I don't know. What I do know is that in about four precious minutes of footage, a fictional dinosaur became immortal.

So yeah, nothing is ever going to touch this classic. But I can think of at least one that's a little bit spiritually closer to it than just about anything else: the music video to 1989's Runnin' Down a Dream by Tom Petty, with animation directed by Jim Lenahan. The video is based on several episodes of the comic strip Little Nemo in Slumberland, by Winsor McCay (with a blink and you miss it connection to Alice in Wonderland). I'm sure Petty's epic guitar riff wasn't the soundtrack in McCay's head when he drew the strip, but sometimes when you combine artists' work separated by almost eighty years you can create a brand new soul. The video perfectly encapsulates the feel of a dream's story; almost holding together without ever being predictable. And there's a sense of attachment, loss, and isolation weaving through the chaos. It's a beautiful unsung classic from the golden age of MTV.


I'm making a point to try to keep these blogs from getting out of hand in terms of length, so next week I'll tackle the Chuck Jones heavy top five shorts.

Saturday, November 5, 2016

Review of The Ogre

Did you know I have an imdb page? I daresay I'm quite proud of it, particularly because I just kind of fell into a string of short films. It was around 2008, and I'd just met my wife (she obviously wasn't my wife at the time). She was heavily involved with the Birmingham film scene; which was arguably more active then than it is now, although I may just be out of the loop. I wound up going to several auditions with her and managed to work my way into quite a few short films, and the occasional full length feature.

One of my favorite acting gigs was Mr. Failure, a student film directed by the very talented Christian Sutton. My wife (who actually was my wife by that point) plays my wife. I, on the other hand play my wife's husband. My unnamed character is at his breaking point in the overbearing marriage and tries to murder his wife but proves to be completely ineffective at it. Imagine if Charlie Brown married Lucy and finally lost it. It was a fun shoot, even if I was running a fever in a few scenes.

I recently had the joy of watching The Ogre, a short film in which I played the title character. And now you can watch it too! Go on. Click the link. It's fifteen measly minutes out of your uneventful life. Yeesh! You really got something better to do?

I forget how long ago it was when I went in for my two days of filming, but I have to say the experience really was something special. The Ogre is a silent film, equal parts love letter to the genre and standalone story. As an actor, I felt like I had a taste of genuine history by being a part of the project. And now as a viewer with a globally read blog (According to the traffic stats. Big thank you to my 78 hits from Poland!) I'm in kind of a unique position to review a film that I was in.

Ignoring my own performance for the moment, I have to say there really is an inherent beauty in the film. My friends Ben and Nadia Robertson and Kyle Fortenberry were the artistic force behind The Ogre (with Jonathan Barry handling my makeup). In watching the film you can feel how much love they have for the classics. When you revisit the past it's very easy to start doing tongue-in-cheek references from a modern eye that makes the product lapse into parody. They didn't do that. The Ogre was carefully crafted to look like a silent film that really did exist back in the days of Lon Chaney, which in turn has had the same sort of missing frames and degradation of celluloid over time.

Like most classic stories, The Ogre is a cautionary fable. You have a devout family in a small village, with a pastor patriarch, who collectively kind of miss the point of Christianity when they 'Satan' in a deformed newborn. The pastor decides that the baby should be left in the woods alone to die, and gets no real objection. Yep. That's not going to come back to haunt him. So the child grows up alone in the woods, essentially as a feral animal.

The pastor's daughter frequently visits a creek near the now full-grown ogre, and some still human part of him feels an aesthetic attraction to her. But she screams when she sees him and his heart is broken. Then at an emotional junction, a hapless hunter happens upon the ogre and fires an arrow at him. The ogre finds himself shot through the heart, the hunter is to blame; and giving love a bad name really is the last straw.

He hobbles into town to register a complaint. In lieu of the proper forms, he resorts to beating the pastor's daughter to death, and then the pastor. Probably for no reason other than he happens to be there at the time, making the pastor's death more of a poetic justice than a calculated choice. The ogre then recognizes his mother, but by that point he has fully embraced his role as the monster of the story and kills her as well. He then retires to his home in the woods to die alone, sharing one final connection with a wild dog who wasn't in the script (scene stealing bitch) before perishing.

One of the things I absolutely love about the film is how real it feels to its source material. I got to watch it with a full audience, and more than one person mentioned how much it reminded them of the 1923 Hunchback of Notre Dame, and you can't get a more historical comparison than that. I'm not an authority on silent films but I'm familiar with the iconic moments from The Phantom of the Opera and Frankenstein, and I unconsciously made the connections in specific beats.

The actors are spot on. Bradley Foster quite effectively conveys a multi-layered pastor during his minimal screen time. Nadia plays the damsel to a tee, she clearly did some actor's research on how to scream, how to run, and precisely which pauses to take for the silent medium. And everybody else really finds the sweet spot between over and underacting, two very easy slopes to slip off of when you're in unfamiliar territory.

There's a sadness to The Ogre. And what is art's primary function if not to convey emotion? And it leaves you with a potential discussion about the nature of monsters. At what point could the story have turned around for the well-being of everyone? Where is the dividing line between evil and mere instinct? The same year I filmed this, my wife and I had the honor of sitting down with Brad Dourif at Dragon Con. He was explaining how the vital element to the overcoming the monster (or not) template was that the monster does not negotiate or compromise. Perhaps the return to a simplistic formula explains why the horror genre continues to fascinate us.

Okay, so what did I think about my performance? First off, let me say that I'm just narcissistic enough to love seeing myself on film or video. But I almost always have a negative reaction to the result. "Oh GOD! Why did I make that expression?" Well, I'm pleased to say that I don't look like a dumbass. A lot of the credit goes to Ben's camera work and editing. I don't think there's a single shot of me that's gratuitously "Look at the creature we made!" Every bit of footage serves a purpose. It's a disciplined approach and the result is all the stronger for it. I also have to credit Jonathan for the makeup. He and Kyle did the design work but Jonathan took the three hours both mornings to get me ready, and his hard work really is amazing (although that's my real hair by the way).

The funny thing is, I didn't intentionally pursue a specific role. I just went to the audition and played with the pantomime. When I found out I was cast as the Ogre I was perplexed. I have a smaller frame than most monster actors (have you seen Kane Hodder?), so I had the actor's task of figuring out how the hell I was going to be believably intimidating. So I came to work one afternoon, and a hornet kind of hovered around me for a few seconds before losing interest and flying off. And I thought, okay that's who the Ogre is. He's a hornet. You leave him alone, he's not going to be a problem, but if you swat at him he's going to react with an all-or-nothing mentality.

My most memorable moment came from the scene where the Ogre kills his mother. Emma and I did two takes. The first one I just came in and killed her because she was there. The second take we slowed it down. I played it where I recognized her by scent and she knew I was her son and we almost have that connection before I decide I'm just too far gone. It was a sad moment, and that wound up being the take they used.

A couple of other recollections: I forget the dog's name and she really wasn't supposed to be in the film, but after she kept ad-libbing her way into frame they decided to add her in at the end. Bradley and I also had a bizarre conversation (while I was killing him) about our characters actually seeing each other's points and reconciling. I'm secretly hoping for the sound version of the film to get a release someday.

If you've never acted for a film project, the trick is you have to be ready to go when the crew is ready for you. There are quite a few elements they have to contend with: equipment failure, natural lighting, the occasional dog on set. As such, you never know when you're going to have to be 'on', which means when you're 'off' you're not entirely. It's more like on standby power. And if you're not used to it, you can drain yourself without realizing it. The day we filmed in the woods, I was so excited. Up before dawn, driving to Trussville, in the makeup chair, roaming around, feeling Ogre-y. And then I felt- "Okay, starting to crash now." And then I thought- "Oh shit, I haven't actually filmed anything yet!" You kind of have to learn on the spot how to keep your brain active.

Well, I'll tell you what I did to stay focused. I started writing a blues song from the Ogre's perspective, with which I'll share with you now to close this blog out. If 1931 Productions ever remakes The Ogre as a musical, I'm more than ready to dust this little number off.


I should have been a dentist with an office on the street.
I should have been an astronaut with aliens to greet.
I should have been in politics, and work my way to King.
And I'm certain I could do it, if it weren't for one small thing...

I am soooooooooooo ugly!
My mom adopted fish.
I am soooooooooooo ugly!
The waitress dropped the dish.
I am soooooooooooo ugly!
The blind don't want to see.
I am just so thoroughly-
Ug-ly.

I went to see a therapist and only brought her down.
The crows won't steal my vegetables until I'm out of town.
My plastic surgeon shot himself. My driver's license lies.
When I look into the mirror, my reflection hides his eyes.

I am soooooooooooo ugly!
The subway never stops.
I am soooooooooooo ugly!
My banker called the cops.
I am soooooooooooo ugly!
My Facebook has a fee.
I am just so totally, sullenly, purposely,
Frights of fancy! I am ug-ly.