North (1994)

Saturday is "Take Out the Trash" Day.

North (Rob Reiner, 1994)

"I hated this movie. Hated hated hated hated hated this movie. Hated it. Hated every simpering stupid vacant audience-insulting moment of it. Hated the sensibility that thought anyone would like it. Hated the implied insult to the audience by its belief that anyone would be entertained by it."  Roger Ebert, reviewing North

"...If you read between the lines, [the review] isn't really that bad."  Rob Reiner, New York Friar's Club Roast

Roger Ebert's little hissy fit—resembling a child's tantrum (interestingly)—about North is probably the most famous thing about it. Ebert described it as "the worst movie he'd ever seen"...and that just can't be right. I've been unable to find a review of Ebert's for Myra Breckinridge—he did, however, write Beyond the Valley of the Dolls—and he had seen Super Mario Brothers the previous year. So, I'm not sure why the particular bile-spewing for Reiner's film. 

It's merely a children's film that desperately wants to be funny...and just isn't.

North (Elijah Wood) is having a bad life. A good kid, all-around student, MVP ball-player, and acting prodigy, he's an over-achiever and under-nourished. Still at an age when he's seeking parental approval, he's getting nothing from his self-involved parents (Jason Alexander and Julia Louis-Dreyfuss, who are basically playing their self-involved "Seinfeld" characters but at a higher volume and without waiting for studio audience laughter)—he's a pants inspector and she's a travel agent who spend their little family time complaining about their jobs, thus giving North panic attacks.

"I don't get it." says North. "A child is born. He's given a life. But then, he's appreciated by everyone except the folks who gave him that life. It's just not right." It's getting so bad that his GPA, RBI's, and other worth-indicators are starting to take a hit. Best to go to his "Special Place" where he can spend time alone and think. Reiner shows North walking past traditional tree forts, scenic river spots and covered bridges to reveal that North's "Special Place" is an easy chair in a department store floor-model. That's how messed up North is. And it doesn't get any better when the store Easter Bunny (Bruce Willis) shows up to offer observations and perspectives (and, frankly, unnecessary narration). 

Rather than explain that North's life will get better when his self-actualization kicks in, E.B. just tells him that the way the other kids' parents use North to shame their kids to "do the right thing" that "your parents have a gold-mine" and that "under-appreciation is a common childhood lament" and, generally, you're basically stuck with the parents you have—unlike baseball where you can sign for free agency.

That one sticks. In the easy chair, North comes up with a plan where he might resolve his issues: with his friend Winchell (Matthew McCurley) he announces that he will leave his parents and sue them for divorce.* Attorney Arthur Belt (Jon Lovitz) takes on the case and the hearing results in Judge Buckle (Alan Arkin) telling North he has two months to find better parents or he has to go back to his biologicals. The decision puts his parents into comas.

North then travels the world looking for better parents—and the trial's publicity gets him several offers—from Texas (Dan Aykroyd and Reba McEntire are the parents), Hawaii (Keone Young, Lauren Tom), Alaska (Graham Greene, Kathy Bates), even from the Amish (Alexander Goudonov and Kelly McGillis from 1985's Witness—a good joke if anybody gets it), in a series of un-PC sequences that "a lot of people" complained about.**

Finally, North ends up with the perfect parents—the Nelsons (John Ritter, Faith Ford and little ScarJo in her film debut)—but, still, something's wrong. They're just not "his" parents, so he decides to make his way back to them, a move complicated by a "child uprising" that wants to kill North (!!) for wanting to un-do the cause of kids' rights.

Bruce Willis serves as "sequence interpeter" in each of North's adventures.

The movie has enough content to throw all sorts of parents' groups into tizzies, but, really, it doesn't do anything that hasn't been done in the past: The Wizard of Oz (Dorothy wants to be someplace else but dull old Kansas but learns "there's no place like home); Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (a child in poverty conditions—played comically—interacts with a bunch of horrible children who all meet dire fates); Time Bandits (a boy prefers his fantasy world to his parents' hum-drum consumer-hell and has adventures throughout history with authority figures he might prefer to his parents—who are killed in the end). No one is complaining about those—probably because they are movies about kids with embedded life lessons (or else nobody's noticed). 

Reiner and screenwriters Andrew Scheinman and Allan Zweibel (the movie is based on his "North: The Tale of a 9-Year-Old Boy Who Becomes a Free Agent and Travels the World in Search of the Perfect Parents") don't so much embed as employ "Shock and Awe." Zweibel was one of the founding writers of "Saturday Night Live," co-created "It's Garry Shandling's Show" and consults on "Curb Your Enthusiasm" and his work on those and with Gilda Radner and Billy Crystal (among others) are nice combinations of the twee and the harsh. It's just no one expects them in a kids' movie (except for the very good ones I've mentioned) with the go-for-the-gut sensibility of "SNL".

Movies, when it comes down to it, are miracles of chance when they "work" and connect with audiences, and North has elements of proven past successes, but is so desperate to evoke laughs, that (in the words of Nigel Tufnel) it "goes to 11."

As a result, the movie is hysterical in all meanings of the term except funny. 

But, not so hysterical that it should evoke the over-reaction that it garnered. "The worst movie ever made?" Please. 

* This isn't the first movie to hang on this premise: 1984's Irreconcilable Differences took the contentious consequences of the Peter Bogdanovich-Polly Platt marriage and turned it into a "comedy" with daughter Drew Barrymore suing for her own separation...from them. In reality, kids have sued their parents over various issues...the most unsettling is over abuse. And this might strike very close to the bone in the Hollywood community, where a small percentage of child-stars have sued the parents over managerial/control issues. 

** "A lot of people." Wonder if they're the ones who kvetch about the world being "too PC"—when it's them telling the joke. Anyway, this is an asterisked aside because *SPOILER ALERT* none of this is reality, it's all a concoction in North's head (like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz but without the tornado-caused blunt force trauma). One could excuse the crass stereotype jokes as being the inexperienced kid North's "un-woke" perceptions as story-justification, but the fact that they're over-the-top and kinda not funny have to go to the film-makers.

Onward

The Real Hero's Quest
or
"Only Once Is All We Get..."

"Long ago, the world was full of Wonder. It was adventurous, it was exciting, and best of all, there was magic. And that magic helped all those in need. But, it wasn't easy to master. So, the world found an easier way to get by. Over time, magic faded away."

Ian Lightfoot (voiced by Tom Holland) is an elf, with a lot changing in his life: he's turning 16, about to enter high school, and he's scared of everything. His Mom (voiced by Julia Louis-Dreyfuss) has a new boyfriend (who's a policeman...and a centaur, but let's not be specist), his older brother Barley (voiced by Chris Pratt) is a lout, obsessed with with RPG's, especially quest-themed games based on the past, and there's a lot he doesn't like about his life right now, wondering if he had the guidance of his father—who died before he was born—that he wouldn't be so unsure of himself.

But, with a change in schooling comes an opportunity for change of self. Ian makes himself a list of things he wants to do: speak up more; learn to drive; invite people to his birthday party; "be more like Dad." Each item has an empty box next to it that he'll check off when accomplished...at the end of his first day, all of those boxes are empty.

Life in New Mushroomtown

So, it's not the best of birthdays, until after he survives the ignomy of brother Barley picking him up from school in front of potential friends (who invites—and then dis-invites to his birthday party). Mom reveals that Barley and Ian's Dad has bequeathed a boon to the boys when both of them have reached the age of 16. It is a wizard's staff ("I KNEW it! Dad was a wizard!" "No, he was an accountant...") with a parchment written with the very words that start the movie (and this post).

In Onward*, the world was one of wizards and magic. But science and technology took over. You know longer needed an enchanting mage to provide light, once electricity was channeled and utilized, infrastructures built, grids connected, roads built, cars invented and mass-merchandised. As it was said, the world found easier ways and magic in the every-day faded, replaced by industrial wonders and suburbs and highways and gas stations and fast-food restaurants. The world became democratized and needs fulfilled. Oh, there are still elves and centaurs and manticores and sprites and unicorns (knocking over garbage cans and eating the best bits), but society is more about convenience and getting through the 9 to 5.

Oh. And dragons. Pet dragons. If they're troublesome, squirt 'em with a water bottle (especially the fire-breathing ones!).

So, for these suburban elflings to get a magic staff, well, that's amazing! Especially for Barley, who's into that sort of thing. And there's another thing in the parcel—a Phoenix Gem. Dad's gift is a means to conjuring himself up for 24 hours (and 24 hours only) to spend it with his sons—handy to spend as little time in the troublesome teen years and to completely avoid diaper-duty. Not handy to be dead, though.

Ian and Barley attempt to magick up Dad, but fail. But, when Ian—who has the greater need (never having seen his father)—tries, he has more success to a certain degree. It being his first spell-attempt, there's some wasted energy (teens!) and the Phoenix Gem empties and dissipates, with only half-a-Dad showing up from the waist down ("I definitely remember Dad had a top part!")—the rest just being an expectant shimmer-layer of pixie-pixels. This is an issue, especially if you're expecting any meaningful conversation beyond foot-taps. 

So, that's the set-up of the story; the rest of the movie is a hero's quest for another Phoenix Gem to complete the spell...and Dad...before the 24 hours is up in order to have quality time with a Dad who's more than only part-way there. Simple goal: check. Limited amount of time to do it in: check. Complications, of course, ensue, and, of course, important life lessons are learned along the way. But, being this is a Pixar film, there is an emotional heart to the film beyond what we've come to expect from animated films from other digitizers. Goals may be achieved on the surface, but they are not as important as those achieved, unseen, in the heart. Audience tears may drop.

That's where Pixar excels—in the subtext (although, the subtext is a little more obvious in this one than in the absolute best of the studio's films). Onward is an ingenious blending of RPG games and real world in the ingeniously constructed and exquisitely rendered tradition that we've come to expect out of the Uncanny Valley in Emeryville. Sure, it's in a fantasy world, but there are moments where you would swear that something was filmed rather than rendered, and, beyond the RPG setting, director Dan Scanlon—this is a Giant's sized step up from his work in Monsters University—manages to squeeze in other "quest" touch-stones that might be recognized (there is an ingeniously updated reference to the opening of Raiders of the Lost Ark that has a hilarious capper).

Ultimately, what goes unspoken is the trope that it's not the goal rather than the journey itself, but it does it in such a subtle and smart way that one could be excused for not recognizing it as such, and in a way that might (just "might") frustrate those who are looking for connect-the-dots movie-making. Pixar is better than that, and the results are sublime and well-earned. Lesson learned. 

It is not Pixar's best—I just had to rank the Pixar features for The Large Association of Movie Blogs and I would say Onward is solidly in the top third of their output (I still think Ratatouille is the best one they've ever done from a depth perspective, but your results may vary), and one awaits breathlessly for their new one—Soul—in June of this year.

* Onward is not accompanied by a Pixar short, but one of the newly-acquired 20th Century Fox properties—The Simpson's—entitled "Play-Date with Destiny," featuring the non-verbal Maggie Simpson. One may be horrified that the anarchic Simpsons play in front of a Pixar movie, but this one is very clever—the more adult jokes are only written out to be read, so there's nothing that might "weird-out" the kindergartners. The makers of The Simpsons are an ingenious lot.

Enough Said

Yadda, Yadda, Yadda....
or
Ex-Men and Women: Daze of Futures Past

It's refreshing to see a rom-com where the entangled are not "zygotes in love," young puppy-lovers with their whole lives in front of them as they go walking off into the sunset, or walking along the sandy-beach, or kissing in front of fireworks while the music swells and we head for the exits. That's about the time where the "They Lived happily Ever After" credit of "The End," sometimes with the cutesy "(?)," burns itself into the acetate, and I give a guttural chuckle while the thought of there being a sequel where everything goes to shit burns itself into my grey matter.

Most rom-coms, even the most cynical ones, are first acts, where the lessons learned and the hurdles tripped over only get us to the threshold of commitment and then leave us with the unasked question: "So, how's THAT working out for you?"

But, when you're dealing with adult rom-com's there's always that bittersweet quality where flirtations are recognized to be temporary sparks, and that work is involved and sometimes relationships need to be as tailored like clothes, as people change and grow either too comfortable or not comfortable enough. If nothing fits, then it's time to do some spring cleaning and donate stuff to somebody else. That's the situation with people in Enough Said, the latest film by Nicole Holofcener, who's doing her best to off-set the male-centric movie landscape in the States. This one centers around Eva (Julia Louis-Dreyfuss) a single mother, once divorced, working as an in-home masseuse, who's dreading the departure of her daughter (Tracey Fairaway) for college, and feeling needy, probably because it's one thing to be a married "empty nester," but a single one? Misery loves company.

That's why her meeting Albert (James Gandolfini) at a party is such a lucky break. Divorced, nebbish-y, his daughter (Eve Hewson) is also going away to college. There's no real attraction at the beginning, and there's really nothing there, but a casual date is fun, and she finds herself relaxing with him. Her therapist-friend (Toni Collette) is supportive, as is her daughter, such as she can be. Even one of her clients she's bonded with, Marianne (Catherine Keener), thinks it's a great idea.

It's going great...just great...great. Yeah. Then, she starts to notice that the things that irritated Marianne about her ex, are things that Albert does all the time. It's not that they are particularly irritating, but...she never noticed them before, and now that she's noticing them...yeah, they are pretty irritating things. And, considering that those "things" broke up Marianne's marriage to him, Eva decides that maybe she'd better fire a couple of shots across Albert's considerable bow to see if she can change him before things get any more serious. For Albert, it starts to sour their relationship because when Eva brings them up (as he says) "it's like I'm with my ex-wife..."

This is kinda sit-commie. A little too convenient (story-wise) that everybody should be in such proximity that they get caught up in each other's orbits (minor quibble), and you want to apply some malicious reiki to Eva's neck—if it weren't for the fact that this is a kinder, gentler version of Louis-Dreyfuss' Elaine Benes from "Seinfeld," so wrapped up in herself that she's quite unaware that she's an emotional black hole, starting to suck the energy out of people to fulfill her needs, so in pursuit of "the new" that she tends to shaft the familiar (a not uncommon trait). The wonderful thing about Louis-Dreyfuss (besides being able to channel her dark side in her sleep) is how she is still able to make Eva engaging. She has to be, for the attraction to work. And Gandolfini is superb in this, vacillating between shy comfort and wariness, constantly looking at people out of the corner of his eye as if looking at them directly will reveal too much or put his vulnerability out there to be skewered. Good cast all around and they do make the most of the material, of adults who are still in need of love and finding that available hugging arms are in increasingly short supply.  

He talks during movies and rattles his popcorn, so I couldn't date him.
Louis-Dreyfuss and Gandofini in Enough Said.