Places in the Heart

Places in the Heart (Robert Benton, 1984) Robert Benton's distillation of life growing up in Waxahachie, Texas during the Depression begins with an unfortunate accidental death, which expands to an unfortunate deliberate act of evil, but ends, after Earthly trials—from both Man and Nature—with an ambiguous epiphany that extends the simple gift of community into a surprising, almost shocking, expression of spiritual healing and harmony--one of the gutsiest segues from hard-scrabble reality to the Mystery of Faith ever put to film.

The cast is impeccable with unsentimental work from Sally Field, to pitch-perfect early performances from Danny Glover and John Malkovich, to excellent work by Ed Harris, Amy Madigan and Lindsay Crouse. All portray an extended family that forgo the boundaries of blood and race to pull together and survive the deprivations of Nature and man. It's a movie that doesn't shy away from showing people at their worst and quietly displaying them at their best.

Sure sounds like heavy stuff, but the artists behind and in front of the camera make it compelling drama that stays clear-eyed and rarely sinks into easy sentimentality. Quite the opposite, actually; Glover plays the role of a poor share-cropper with a tentativeness that awaits disaster, and Malkovich makes his blind war vet a petulant jerk. Plus, there's a collection of townsfolk that includes greedy bankers, murderous racists and opportunists of every stripe. In To Kill a Mockingbird, racism seems like bad manners and poor up-bringing, while in Places in the Heart it's a way of life and charity is the exception, rather than the norm.

For the Spalding Family, it's a story of tragedy and accommodating, changing and "making do" when they lose their stability in the community and become charity outcasts, banding together with other unfortunates to, as in the parlance, "pull yourself up by your boot-straps" and discovering along the way that charity is something you give in equal measures to accepting. Something about the quality of mercy being twice blessed (now, where have I heard that before?). It's a story of perseverance in the face of great change, and, if not welcoming and embracing change, at least having the grit to roll with it. It's one of my favorite films from a fine, often disregarded film director.

And that ending. It comes out of nowhere, punches you in the ventricles, and leaves you with a final image that is, at first, shocking and confounding, but, as it sinks in, moves beyond the factual to the spiritual and embraces time and memory and the broader outreaches of community—beyond mere property lines and borders and extends to the heart...and the soul. 

Gets me every time.

The Rocketeer

The Rocketeer (Joe Johnston, 1991) Graphic artist Dave Stevens was handed an assignment for a new comic book*—he'd get to create an eight-page second feature of his own devising and do anything he wanted with it. For Stevens, that meant it had to have a pulp-fiction atmosphere, a late 1930's Los Angeles locale, an art-deco look, and characters with which he was familiar enough to draw. He based the hero on himself, his mechanical engineer Peavey on Doug Wildey (who'd created "Jonny Quest") and for the hero's girlfriend, a forgotten pin-up girl of the 40's and 50's, "Bettie" Page.**

That second feature, "The Rocketeer," quickly eclipsed the comic's title character, and moved to its own publication that, due to Stevens' fastidious attention to artistic detail, came out only infrequently. But the elements were there to attract Disney, looking for a comic-book hero that could economically catch the wave of the recent burgeoning comic-book movie trend and match the box office returns of the "Batman" series.

Even though "The Rocketeer" didn't have the Caped Crusader's cache of cultural iconography (That's Adam West-speak for recognition by the general public), the cult-status of the comic and the script's deep-dish banquet of 30's flotsam (Rocket-packs, Flying Gee-Bee's, Nazi's, gangsters, ugly goons, "good" girls, Howard Hughes, zeppelins, Erroll Flynn swinishness, and the Griffith observatory and an art-deco finish) looked like it was going to be 1991's "sure thing" at the box-office. So confident that it would soar on plumes of flame into the stratosphere, Disney honcho's put out a "memo" saying that this was "the way" they were going to make movies: good properties, well-cast with cheap stars—they were going to put all the money up there on the screen. 

That would have been a good plan if only The Rocketeer hadn't flamed out and fallen to Earth. The Rocketeer under-performed badly at the time of its release.

It became popular on the rental circuit, but the damage was done. No sequels (a trilogy was planned), the other studios chortled about Disney's memo hubris, and went back to paying stars (and their agents) $20 million for a movie (and Disney took to raiding already established franchises to create pre-fabricated tent-poles for their releases—first, The Muppets, then Marvel, then Lucasfilm, and even re-making live-action versions of their own animated features).

Too bad. The Rocketeer is a flawed adaptation of a wonderful property, but if it had inspired similar "value" films, it would have been worth it. The thing is, its heart is in the right place, it's sweet and affectionate about the period it's in, the romance is chaste and makes no concessions to modern audiences, the players are adept—Billy Campbell was born to play "The Rocketeer," he looks just like Dave Stevens—and any movie with Alan Arkin and Paul Sorvino, AND Terry O'Quinn, it goes without saying that they're always enjoyable...plus, Timothy Dalton got to bust up his Bond image a bit.

It is 1938. A down-on-his-heels "fly-boy" Cliff Secord (Campbell) has just managed to screw up his flying career by crashing his stunt-plane at an aerodrome just outside of Los Angeles. Luck falls in his lap when he discovers a rocket-powered jet-pack (recently stolen by mafia gangsters from engineers at Hughes Aircraft at the behest of the Nazi's). With the help of his mechanic-mentor Peavey (Arkin), Cliff is able to get the pack working and even enhancing some features so he becomes his own one-man airplane. Howard Hughes (O'Quinn), however, thinking the prototype destroyed in the attempt, scraps the project now knowing that it is of interest to Germany for their war effort.

Complicating matters is "Jennie" Blake, a hopelessly aspiring actress (she was an "art-photo" model in the comics, but...Disney), who happens to be Cliff's somewhat-serious-if-he'd-get-serious-girl-friend. As long as Cliff is gainfully employed, she takes him seriously, so he lies to her about crashing his plane. Visiting her on the set where she's working as an extra, he tells her about finding the rocket-pack, a conversation that is overheard by the film's star Neville Sinclair (Dalton), who is a secret Nazi agent and who engineered the stealing of the jet-pack at the behest of Hitler's regime as a possible tool for invading America.*** 

Sinclair, being a talented, but no-good-snake and now knowing the prototype exists, takes an interest in Miss Blake (which she mistakes for a career opportunity). This does two things: it makes Jennie an innocent victim of the plot of the movie and an unsuspecting damsel-in-distress; it makes Cliff insanely jealous of a much more privileged rival who might take his girl away. Neither one suspects that both of them are at the center of a much wider conspiracy that would have world-wide complications if they come about. Actually, it's kind of neat how it comes about, like a superhero-Hitchcock film.  

The movie only really takes off, logically enough, when the rocket-pack fires, then things zip, zoom, loop-dee-loop and go slightly out-of-control in a giddy display of pyrotechnics. The rest of the time the film stays firmly rooted to Earth, refusing to soar. Oh, Dalton has fun with his role—he was always better suited playing bad-guys, anyway—And Jennifer Connelly adds some brief spark to her role as "Jennie," Cliff's naively ambitious actress girl-friend. 

That's the problem. Sweet as it is, The Rocketeer could use some spice, which Disney was just too timid to provide. "Jennie" was "Bettie" in the comics, specifically "Bettie" Page, who was far more world-wise and ambitious than the screen incarnation could capture. There was a bit of the real Page's persona in the original character, all too aware that she was the type of girl "men like," and all too willing to exploit her looks to be exploited. That was way too hot for Disney, who gussied Connelly up from head to toe, effectively neutering her character. That the real "Bettie" Page was still alive at the time, and fully capable of contacting lawyers, probably influenced Disney's decision, as well.

Plus...Disney.

And that's too bad. The Rocketeer takes chances, but it still feels "safe," something the comic was having too good a time to worry about. Perhaps the difficulties the filmmakers were having trying to get the story onto the screen half-way resembling Stevens' vision of things (they wanted it contemporary, they wanted Cliff to wear a space helmet (toy potential, merchandising...blah blah blah), made them thankful for small victories along the way to devote more energy to the project.

It was The Rocketeer, however, that convinced Marvel to give the challenging role of directing the first Captain America story for the screen to director Joe Johnson, a job he pulled off with flying red, white and blue colors. 

And, supposedly, Disney is working on a re-boot, called The Rocketeers. We'll see. 

Dave Stevens, died after a long fight with leukemia, at the too-young age of 52.

Page, Stevens and Wildey

(Stevens' models for "Bettie", Cliff, and Peavey)

* Mike Grell's "Starslayer" #2 featured the first appearance of "The Rocketeer"

** She wouldn't stay forgotten for long. The Rocketeer re-generated interest in her long career as a photographer's model, and "nudie" dancer, and she was able to see some money from the marketing of her image.  The Notorious Bettie Page is based on her life.  She didn't like it much, reportedly. An old review of it will be up in the future.

*** Amusingly, there is a Disney-animated "propaganda film" that is shown at one point in the movie, and in its "live" footage, the hapless German test-pilot who gets scorched in their pack's first attempt is played by "Rocketeer" creator Dave Stevens.

I "met" Dave Stevens (actually I was one of zillions at a comic-con he was appearing at) and he signed a promotional poster he had done for the film. He was as fastidious about the signature as he was about his work: "Now...make sure you wait a little bit because the paper has a high gloss finish and you should allow the ink to dry before it touches anything  because it's kind of nappy right now and it'll smudge..."

Thanks, Dave.