Christmas 2019: December 5th

Three Godfathers (1936)

Never let anyone tell you that Hollywood makes too many remakes or sequels nowadays. Anyone with a proper grip of cinematic history understands that the golden age of Hollywood, the thirties and forties, ran on sequels. They also know that filmmakers have been remaking other movies since pretty much the beginning of filmmaking. Some well regarded classics are, in fact, remakes. Look at John Ford's classic Christmas Western, 1948's “3 Godfathers.” That is actually the sixth film based on that story. It followed three silent versions, a sound adaptation in 1930 under a different title, and another sound version under the proper title merely six years later. Probably because I'm weird, I decided to watch that particular take on “Three Godfathers” this December.

Four outlaws ride into the South-Western town of New Jerusalem, a week before Christmas. They are the black-hearted Bob, the illiterate Gus, the scholarly but ill Doc, and troubadour Pedro. They rob the local bank, Bob senselessly killing the teller and Pedro being gunned down. The three survivors ride into the desert, on the run. At the first watering hole, they discover a sickly woman and her baby. After she dies, the three men take the child with them as they begin the long journey through the desert to the nearest town. After their horses drink from a poisoned well, they continue onward on foot.

“Three Godfathers” swings wildly between two different tones. The first half-hour is largely concerned with light-hearted humor. The character of Gus provides a lot of comic relief, especially when compared to the erudite Doc. The outlaws are invited to the town's before-Christmas feast, which includes a cute scene of Gus slicing the florets off some asparagus spears. Or the odd practices of the town dentist. Yet even this amusing, laid-back beginning has its grim touches. Such as Bob's decision to murder the bank teller, strictly because he's that big of a bastard. Earlier, he menaces an ex-girlfriend of his, who is marrying another man soon. While there's humor and Christmas atmosphere in “Three Godfathers'” first half, dark things are ahead.

This proves true after the trio head into the desert. At that point, “Three Godfathers” becomes a surprisingly grim survival drama. It seems every watering hole the men come across on their trek is poisoned. Their canteens soon run empty. The sun beats down, the film focusing on the flatness of the land and the sweat on their foreheads. The audience truly feels the heat of the desert sun, the men's growing exhaustion. “Three Godfathers” shockingly never backs away from the hopelessness of their situation. Even in this dire situation, the film finds room for moments of touching humanity. Such as when Doc, realizing the end of his life is near, asks Gus to hand him his copy of “MacBeth,” the other man unable to read the covers. Or Gus similarly awakening in the middle of the night and recite a Bible verse he recalls from his childhood.

What makes “Three Godfather” even more endearing are the likable performances at its center. Its surprising how unforgiving Chester Morris is as Bob. He makes no attempt, at first anyway, to play the character as anything but a total bastard. It takes quite a while for his heart to defrost, making his eventual redemption seem totally earned. Lewis Stone as Doc is effective at hiding his inner pain while projecting a caring and intelligent exterior. Walter Brennan, who would win an Oscar the same year for “Come and Get It,” is utterly charming as the child-like Gus. Honestly, both characters are so sweet that you wonder what they are doing hanging out with a scumbag like Bob.

“Three Godfathers'” holiday elements might seem on the margins. After all, this is probably not the holiday you associate with desert heat and Western outlaws. Yet the Christmas feast features  a man dressed as Santa, some garland, and the singing of carols. Moreover, the film's themes of forgiveness and innocence speak to the deeper meaning of the holiday. Naturally, there's a reference to the Three Wise Men as well. While the John Ford version from the next decade is more widely regarded – I guess I'll review that one next December – I have to say the 1936 take is very strong itself. It'll be hard for a remake to top its grimness and sincerity. [7/10]

Pinocchio’s Christmas (1980)

As I've mentioned before, after their iconic successes in the sixties and seventies, Rankin/Bass kept making Christmas specials. And as the eighties dawned, the company was clearly starting to run out of ideas. Which brings us to “Pinocchio's Christmas.” Carlo Lorenzini's iconic little puppet boy and his dad Geppetto are getting ready to celebrate Christmas. Pinocchio receives an arithmetic book and, disappointed, turns around and sells it to earn money to buy a gift for his dad. He soon encounters the traitorous Fox and Cat, who hoodwink the boy in various ways. A convoluted series of events follow that include Pinocchio working in a marionette show, falling in love with an inanimate puppet, fleeing into a haunted forest, meeting a talking cricket and a blue-haired fairy, being sold to a local nobleman and given to his kids as a Christmas gift, and eventually meeting Santa Claus.

As I've previously discussed, the plots for the Rankin/Bass' holiday specials are frequently bizarre, winding affairs. “Pinocchio's Christmas” makes a typically random yuletide plot even more ridiculous by attempting to also adapt Lorenzini's book. (Which had a highly episodic plot to begin with.) The result is one of the most rambling Rankin/Bass specials yet. By throwing in well-known episodes from the “Pinocchio” story – such as a villainous puppet master, two animal swindlers, and appearances from Jimminy Cricket and the Blue Fairy – in addition to a typical Christmas-y message about the power of love and gift giving, the special just becomes a series of events that are happening around to Pinocchio. There's no forward momentum to the plot at all. It's just one dumb thing after another.

Then again, criticizing a Rankin/Bass special for its lack of narrative fortitude is really a fool's errand anyway. These things have always floated by on their likable characters, catchy songs, Christmas atmosphere, and charmingly lo-fi animation. “Pinocchio's Christmas” only has that last detail covered. The stop-motion techniques Rankin/Bass employed had gotten pretty fluid by 1980, as far as these things go. Everything else sucks though. Pinocchio's characterization here is closer to the book, where he's a mischievous little asshole. The villains are especially annoying, as the simple-minded Cat speaks in a stoned mumble and the puppet master peppers his speech with annoying geological references. The Christmas elements feel largely disconnected from the living puppet premise, as Pinocchio teaching the nobleman a moral about family and Santa's appearances are shoved hastily into the back end.

The songs, however, are the most grating part of the special. All of Geppeto's numbers, which include a duet with his reflection, are hopelessly sappy. Fox and Cat's big song features, by far, the most painful melody and rhymes I've heard in any of these things. Almost none of the songs contribute to the actual plot, further adding to the meandering story. Just as the special is getting ready to end, a disco-esque number about Pinocchio teaching the toys in Santa's workshop to dance is added. In other words, this is another one strictly for Christmas completest only. I suspect Rankin/Bass was hoping to launch an on-going series of “Pinocchio” specials, as this ends with a postscript featuring other well-known events from the book. (They previously produced a stop-motion Pinocchio show in the sixties and this might've been an attempt to revive that.) [4/10]

Christmas 2019: December 4th

The Nutcracker in 3D (2009)

My quest to watch the worst Christmas movie of all time continues. I've already scrutinize previous candidates for that title such as “Santa Claus Conquers the Martians” – charming in its lo-fi dumbness – and “Santa Claus Meets the Ice Cream Bunny” – almost unbearable but, admittedly, an experience. Another candidate for this title emerged as recently as ten years ago. I remember reading about “The Nutcracker in 3D” when it hit theaters. The film was a passion project for director Andrei Konchalovsky, previously of “Runaway Train” and “Tango & Cash.” It received acerbic, baffled reviews and bombed hard at the box office. This reception has afforded the (otherwise totally forgotten) film a certain degree of infamy. Now I see if it's truly as bad as that reputation implies.

The film rather loosely follows the plot of E.T.A. Hoffman's “Nutcracker” fairy tale, with a number of bizarre divergences. At a family Christmas party, Mary and her little brother Max eagerly await the arrival of their beloved Uncle Albert. (Who is, in the first of the film's odd historical references, blatantly Albert Einstein.) He presents with them with an elaborate doll house full of wind-up automatons and a humble nutcracker. That night, the Nutcracker springs to life. He reveals to Mary that he's actually a prince from a magical land populated by fairies and toys. The fascist Rat King has taken over the kingdom and transformed the prince into a nutcracker. Soon, both siblings as well as their uncle are pulled along into a wild adventure to stop the Rat King.

The first half-hour or so of “The Nutcracker” plays out like a relatively normal holiday fantasy flick. Do not be deceived. With the introduction of the Rat King, the film takes a hard turn into weirdness. Konchalovsky visually patterns the Rats – humanoid save for their noses – after Nazis. They firebomb the Toy Kingdom from steam-punk jet packs, ride on motorcycles with mounted machine guns, and hunt people with robot rats the size of dobermans. The Rat King electrocutes a shark to death, which leads to a most unexpected homage to Damian Hirst. At another point, he casually tears a character's head off. His mom, the Rat Queen, is introduced wearing frilly underwear. A truly horrifying touch has the rat people's faces expanding into a more accurate rodent-like maws. The plot eventually stretches to involve a magic mirror that can transverse dimensions, a humanoid chimpanzee, a break dancing drummer, and a giant toy-incinerating factory.

Yet for all the inappropriate historical references, horrifying visuals, and weird bullshit Konchalovsky adds to this story, his “Nutcracker” is still a cheesy family movie. In addition to everything else that happens, the film also includes a trite moral about Mary's father learning to appreciate the magic of childhood again. The Nutcracker provides a lot of wacky slapstick. After Max accidentally breaks the doll, the Rat King tries to recruit him, dragging him to a massive toy-burning bonfire. (Yes, really.) Max and Mary eventually learn a lesson about forgiveness. Even later, the seemingly dead Nutcracker is wished back to life via the power of belief. Tim Rice was also somehow roped into providing a few songs, all of which are totally forgettable and rather poorly inserted into the film.

Obviously, “The Nutcracker” wanted to be a star-studded event. Yet, probably owing to it being totally psychotic, the script didn't attract many high-profile actors. Thus, the producers were left with some unexpected stunt casting. Nathan Lane plays Albert Einstein. The comedian's schtick is a rough fit for the famous historical figure and he quite literally winks at the camera several times. John Turturro, wearing a Nehru jacket and a fright wing, plays the Rat King. Turturro goes wildly over-the-top, shrieking and gesticulating throughout. Squeaky Shirley Henderson shrieks her way through the movie as the Nutcracker's voice. On the more muted end is Richard E. Grant as Mary's dad, his first of two appearances in hugely misguided “Nutcracker” adaptations. Elle Fanning is as studious and serious as ever as Mary, giving a genuinely good performance in a film that in no way calls for it.

Konchalovsky is obviously enamored of the movie's special effects and 3D photography. The movie is loaded with elaborate costumes, expansive sets, and mediocre CGI. During the various chase scenes, flying sequences, or moments of combat, stuff is thrust directly into the viewer's eye. I watched the movie flat, so I didn't really get the full effect here. Though it has its long tedious stretches, I'm still surprised more people don't talk about “The Nutcracker in 3D.” Likely to frighten children with its bizarre plot, grim imagery, and freaky visuals, the film is too utterly demented not to be embraced by cult movie fans. Trash cinema devotees will probably do right by adding this bit of kiddie movie weirdness to their holiday marathons. [6/10]

The Angry Video Game Nerd: Winter Games

James Rolfe's fowl-mouthed video game review series has been going for so long that his third Christmas special, covering the NES port of Olympic sporting game “Winter Games,” was released nearly ten whole years ago. While wearing a spiffy looking Atari jacket, the Nerd delivers his grievances about this particular video game. He largely focuses on the bizarre controls, which come across as needlessly cryptic and ineffective. His increasingly enraged and baffled reaction leads to some amusing lines of dialogue: “Was this game designed for monkeys?” and a rambling monologue that concludes with “You push buttons” being two examples.

And, yes, watching the Nerd looses his shit at a shitty video game is fun. His breakdown of the character name screen leads to a decent pay-off. His reaction to the “Winter Games'” screeching musical score or the bizarrely constructed bobsled game, which from vulgar bafflement to dry sarcasm, both made me laugh. The episode concludes with a wonderfully edited sequence, matter-of-factly depicting the Nerd repeatedly destroying the game cartage in a number of low-fi ways. The final image here – “Burn, motherfucker, burn!” – is one I think about and quote quite frequently.

However, the secret strength of Rolfe's creation has always been its potential for absurd digression. We see this in his highly imaginative use of profanity and the occasional oddball reaction to the game's weird design choice. The “Winter Games” designers decided to name the ski jump portion of the game “Hot Dog Aerials,” leading the Nerd to imagine more literal depictions of this event. This is also unquestionably a Christmas episode, as it begins with the Angry Nerd delivering a short rant to the people who always bitch about “Happy Holidays” every December. Truly, episodes like this ensure we can all have a Happy Shut-the-Fuck-Up. [7/10]

Christmas 2019: December 3rd

Klaus (2019)

Boy, do I have some mixed feelings about the monolith Netflix has become. When it was nothing but a by-mail online video store, I loved it. The selection was great. If it was on disc, you could most likely rent it! Of course, then Netflix birthed the modern streaming revolution, completely changing the way most people watch TV and movies... And bleeding their by-mail service practically to death in the process, not to mention spawning a hundred equally pricey rival services. Now Netflix only cares about pimping their original films and shows, their actual selection of movies suffering in comparison. And Netflix isn't even good at promoting their original content half the time. Their big 2019 Christmas release, “Klaus,” has gone largely overlooked. Yet a high profile traditional animated holiday movie sure wasn't going to get by me!

“Klaus” is another film that attempts to offer a definitive origin for the mythical figure of Santa Claus. Jasper is the spoiled son of the local post office empire. His dad forced him to join the post office academy, which he's been trying to flunk out of. Instead of getting his wish, his father assigns him to Smeerenburg, an obscure island community currently torn in two by warring rival factions. Through chance, the reluctant mailman meets Klaus, a solitary toymaker living in the woods. After one toy is delivered, the children of Smeerenburg start to send letters to Klaus to receive more presents. Jasper and Klaus hatch a plan to bring toys to the entire community.

“Klaus” comes to us from Sergio Pablos, best known as co-creator of the “Despicable Me” series. Despite being best known for computer generated animation, Pablos is apparently a great lover of traditional animation. “Klaus” was his attempt to bring hand-drawn animation into the modern age. And the results are nothing short of spellbinding. “Klaus” often gives the impression of a painting that has sprung to life. There's a depth and vividness to the colors, the film glowing with natural-seeming light. The character animation is incredibly lively and detailed, even the background cast members looking expertly designed. Every frame of “Klaus” is a true work of art, a beautifully brought to life swirl of color and movement.

Sadly, its gorgeous visuals are about the only thing “Klaus” really has going for it. It's almost as if Pablos and his team wanted to compensate for “Klaus'” quasi-experimental look by making the script as bland as possible. Every beat of the plot is totally predictable. You know immediately that Jasper will discover the true meaning of friendship. That the school teacher-turned-fish-monger will become his love interest. Even Klaus' tragic backstory can be easily inferred. A plot twist involving a sack of presents is especially asinine. The film piles on the broad humor throughout. The warring factions in town produce lots of wacky slapstick, much of which is very overdone. Jasper's comedic comeuppance for being a jerk produces only sighs. There's even some regrettable needle drops on the soundtrack.

As a Santa Claus origin story, “Klaus” also offers few surprises. The film takes a realistic – in the sense that any children's cartoon can be “realistic” – approach to the legend. There's a tidy explanation for where Santa's reindeer come from, why he has a surplus of toys, his fondness for Christmas, and his tendency to sneak down chimneys. The cutest touch is how the idea of Santa flying through the sky in a magical sleigh comes to be, strictly through happenstance. Having the local Saami population form the basis for Santa's elves is even in questionable taste, though the tiny Saami girl that befriends Jasper is just about as cute as can be. Eventually, “Klaus” veers towards the magical, as you'd expect a story about Santa to. I wish the film thought up backstories for Klaus' superpowers. I guess what I'm saying is “Klaus” doesn't beat “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” at its own game.

“Klaus” doesn't just resemble an older Dreamworks movie in quality of its writing Its voice cast is loaded with well-known movie stars chosen for their name value. Jason Schwartzman is playing very to-type as Jasper, J.K. Simmons disappointingly underplays it as Santa, with Joan Cusack and Will Sasso overdoing it as the bad guys. It's a bummer that “Klaus” couldn't pair its gorgeous visuals with a touching or insightful script. I guess that shouldn't come as a surprise, considering how mediocre the “Despicable Me” movies are. Hopefully, for his next picture, the director can lend these impressive visuals with a story truly worth telling. “Klaus” is no modern holiday classic, worth seeing for its animation but quickly forgotten otherwise. [6/10]

A Muppet Family Christmas (1987)

As I've said in the past, the Muppets and Christmas are irrevocably intertwined in my mind. This is an association Jim Henson's company has hardly resisted, as his felt creations have appeared in countless holiday specials over the years. Nearly a full decade after “John Denver and the Muppets: A Christmas Together,” a new Muppet Christmas special would premiere on ABC. “A Muppet Family Christmas” has Kermit, Fozzie, Gonzo, and the gang surprising Fozzie's mom by stopping by unexpectedly at her country cabin for the holidays. They soon bring with them even more guests, crowding the house even more. The special's admittedly loose plot is mostly strung along over Kermit's concern for Miss Piggy, who is traveling to the cabin through a blizzard.

To Muppet fanatics, “A Muppet Family Christmas” is most valuable for being a crossover between the different Henson creations. Doc, the human host of “Fraggle Rock,” is also staying at Mama Fozzie Bear's cabin. Later, Kermit and Robin crawl inside a cave in the basement, meeting the rest of the Fraggles and introducing them to the idea of Christmas. The Sesame Street gang shows up half-way through the special. This leads to some highly amusing gags, where Burt and Ernie reveal they speak in educational exchanges all the time. Or Oscar the Grouch finding an unlikely alley in Rizzo the Rat. The Muppet Babies even appear, in live action, via a home movie from the gang's days-in-diapers. Though Henson provides a number of voices – which becomes very noticeable when everyone is interacting like this – he appears in the flesh near the end.

Though it lacks the celebrity guest stars you associate with the genre, “A Muppet Family Christmas” still largely functions as a variety special. Meaning there are lots of jokes and songs. Some of these gags work better than other. A reoccurring gag about the icy floor wears out its welcome quickly. However, Fozzie teaming up with a snowman, Statler and Woldorf's appearances, and the Christmas turkey trying to convince the Swedish Chief not to cook him got me to laugh. Most of the songs are holiday standards, naturally, with Muppet-ized lyrics. The Electric Mayhem putting their spin on “Jingle Bell Rock,” the Fraggles performing an original number about giving, and the closing medley – which includes songs from “A Christmas Together” and “The Christmas Toy” with the likes of “The Holly and the Ivy” – are the highlights.

In other words, “A Muppet Family Christmas” is required viewing for fans of these characters. The special has been released on home video. However, because of the conflicting rights over the various shows and songs, a number of sequence have been removed from the DVD. Luckily, the complete version circulates in okay quality around the internet, for you Muppet completest out there. I think it'll make a good edition to anyone's holiday movie marathon. [7/10]

Christmas 2019: December 2nd

Anna and the Apocalypse (2018)

Occasionally, a movie comes along with a combination of premises that is simply irresistible. Last year, I started hearing about a new motion picture that was a Christmas-themed zombie musical. Holiday horror and horror musicals are underappreciated sub-genres on their own, while a combination of the two was practically unheard of. I was really hoping I'd get to “Anna and the Apocalypse” last December. However, the distributors passed over the same day in-theaters/VOD release common for indie horror flicks in favor of a wider theatrical release. A physical media release didn't even happen until earlier this year! So, a year later, I finally have my shot at seeing this cult favorite in-the-making.

Teenager Anna Shepherd has made plans to travel the world after graduation, against her father's wishes. Her Dad is overly protective of Anna, following her late mother's death. Anna's best friend John hides a crush on her, while their mutual friend Steph struggles to write an incisive school project against the wishes of a tyrannical principal. As Christmas approaches, the truly unexpected happens. A zombie outbreak occurs throughout the Scottish countryside. Now Anna and her friends must survive the plague of the undead flesh-munchers as they fight their way back to the school, where their parents are located. Plus, there's singing and dancing.

“Anna and the Apocalypse” clearly wouldn't exist without “Shaun of the Dead.” And not just because it's another zombie-comedy made in the U.K. In both movies, the zombie apocalypse functions as metaphor for the titular character growing and changing. Instead of depicting a man-child coming into maturity, “Anna and the Apocalypse” covers a group of teenagers breaking away from their families and finding their own way. If you didn't catch this, the opening musical number is literally called “Break Away.” Anna and her father come to an agreement, John's feelings are resolved, and Steph forges her own way. I'll admit, framing the zombie premise as a coming-of-age story is something I haven't seen before.

With these multi-hyphenated genre mash-ups, the films prefer one of the styles over the other. And this horror/musical emphasizes the music more than the horror. The New Wave-influenced songs are energetically performed. “Hollywood Ending,” detailing the characters' various dreams, is quite catchy. “Break Away” has a similar point but a more bombastic energy. “Turning My Life Around” is an upbeat number which elevates a sequence clearly paying homage to “Shaun,” where Anna and Josh navigated the post-zombie world totally unaware of what's happened. My favorite number is probably “Nothing's Gonna Stop Me Now,” in which the school principal graduates to full-blown villain in a delightfully manic way. “Soldier at War,” a song highlighting a minor supporting character, and the Depache Mode-inspired “Human Voice” are among the film's less memorable numbers.

Perhaps the songs emerge as more memorable simply because there's been such a glut of zombie media in the last decade. It's not that the undead mayhem in “Anna” is uninspired. A sequence inside a bowling alley, in which zombies rampage through a ball pit and one's head insides up in the ball return machine, is pretty funny. Another moment, in which the heroic trio hide under an inflatable raft, escalates in some nicely ridiculous way. However, the gore effects aren't very inspired, the head-smashings and limb ripping coming off as rubbery. The zombie never feel like much of a threat, existing more as a neutral force on the sidelines, save for the few scenes where they are pushed to the forefront. John McPhail's direction is colorful but he doesn't show much competence for generating scares or tension.

I also wish “Anna and the Apocalypse” was a little heavier on the Christmas atmosphere. Yes, there are Santa and Snowman zombies and a weaponzied candy cane. However, aside from a few holiday-flavored songs (among the film's weakest), the December setting doesn't factor into the proceeding much. The cast is extremely likable, with Ella Hunt as Anna and Sarah Swire clearly having bright futures ahead of them. The film has already collected its share of fans. I imagine it'll become a regular presence in many horror and/or musical fans' yearly December watch-lists. I definitely enjoyed the movie but wish it balanced its zombie mayhem and pop star aspirations a little more evenly. [7/10]

X-Men: The Animated Series: Have Yourself a Morlock Little Christmas

As a kid, I found “X-Men: The Animated Series” to be pretty damn sophisticated. The show drew its character designs, and most of its story lines, directly from the comics. To my childhood brain, that certainly made the show seem darker, more nuanced, and serialized than most of the contemporary superhero cartoons. (The show kicked off a whole block of '90s Marvel cartoon, many of which I have found memories of.) Even though I remember “X-Men” being a pretty serious show, I recently discovered it still had a Christmas episode. Naturally, I had to include this in 2019's Christmas marathon.

“Have Yourself a Morlock Little Christmas” depicts Christmas Eve at the X-Mansion. Jubilee is excited to celebrate her first holiday with her new family, while Wolverine is eager to escape the festive cheer. He ends up going to the mall with Storm, where the Morlocks – mutants too ugly to live anywhere but underground – are caught robbing an ambulance. It turns out Leech, the youngest of the Morlocks, have fallen ill. His mutation made it impossible for him to be seen at a regular hospital, forcing the Morlocks to resort to stealing. Amid interpersonal drama, the X-Men decide to help Leech out.

Despite my childhood recollections, “X-Men: The Animated Series” doesn't exactly hold up. The animation is pretty damn choppy at times, the characters moving awkwardly through flatly colored backgrounds. There are lots of weird close-ups on faces and the various superpowers – such as one shape-shifting Morlock turning into an operating table – look very goofy. The writing, meanwhile, is as overheated as the animation is stiff. At some point, Storm won the right to command the Morlocks, much to the consternation of Callisto, the Morlocks' de-facto leader. The rivalry between the two is constantly referenced. Wolverine, meanwhile, agonizes considerably over whether or not he should try and help Leech. There's little action in this episode, so the focus is largely on the melodrama, which might not be what you'd expect from a superhero cartoon. (Or maybe it is, if you've actually ever read an “X-Men” comic.)

Somewhat unsurprisingly, “A Very Morlock Christmas” is more valuable for its camp value than anything else. The contrast between the superhero theatrics and the holly jolly setting is pretty amusing. While the others have their adventure, Jean Gray and Gambit argue in the kitchen about the Christmas dinner, an utterly ridiculous sight not helped by Gambit's odd tendency to refer to himself in the third person. Wolverine's intolerance for Christmas cheer is both in-character and fairly amusing. The episode's inevitable moral – where Jubilee learns to appreciate the season of giving with the Morlock's humble celebration – is about as maudlin as you can get. I suspect this episode is not highly regarded among “X-Men” fans but it made me laugh a couple times so that gives it value. [7/10]

Christmas 2019: December 1st

Here we go again. Every December, I attempt to do a 25 day marathon of Christmas related movies and television. I do this in the hopes that my bah humbug heart will catch some Christmas cheer before the year is over. This frequently does not work, as my six week long Halloween marathon leaves me incredibly burned out and pretty much useless through the last two months of the year. In the past, I've started this journey just to choke a few weeks in. But, as the song goes, Christmas time is here. So, once again, I will attempt to pull off a month of holly jolly films and TV shows. Wish me luck. I will need it.

Remember the Night (1940)

As I've said in the past, outside of classic horror movies, I am not nearly as familiar with films of the 1930s and 1940s as I should be. Because I am a huge nerd with fucked-up priorities, I feel actual guilt over this. Luckily, Hollywood has been cranking out movies about or at least adjacent to Christmas since the silent days, leaving me lots of older films to fill my December with. Which brings me to “Remember the Night.” The film has two factors that attract fans of vintage cinema. It was written by the highly respected Preston Sturges and stars siren of the silver screen, Barbara Stanwyck. (Who I previously encounter in “Christmas in Connecticut.”) Sounds like a good choice to kick off the month with!

A few days before Christmas, Lee Leander is caught shoplifting. This is her third offense and she might be facing jail time. The prosecuting attorney is Jack Sargeant, who successfully convinces the jury to postpone the verdict until after the holiday is over. Feeling bad about Lee spending Christmas in a jail cell, he pays her bail. She accompanies him as he drives home to Indiana, with the agreement that he'll drop her off at her mom's house in Pennsylvania. But Lee's mom is an asshole, so she sticks with him as he visits with his own mom and family. As the New Year approaches, the two start to fall in love.

As in the previously reviewed “Christmas in July,” Preston Sturges' dialogue here has certain zip to it. This extends to the character names – as with a colorful bail bondsman named Fat Mike – on down. From early on, the banter is quick and razor sharp. Probably my favorite example of witty exchanges here is when Lee succinctly points out the difference between her and Jack, with the metaphor of stealing a loaf of bread when starving. Another highlight occurs when she sets a fire to escape a tight situation, Lee dismissing the desperate measure in a typical flippant manner. The film is full of wacky situations – such as the couple falling asleep in a cow field, being accosted by the trigger-happy owner the next morning – but it's that fast-paced dialogue that truly keeps this movie light and entertaining.

What elevates “Remember the Night” further is the surprisingly sincere romance at its center. Jack's interest in Lee is motivated by kindness, an emotion which soon turns to something more romantic in nature. The sexual tension between them is evident in that catty dialogue, to the point where neither the audience nor the characters are surprised when they start snogging during the Christmas party. Ultimately, “Remember the Night” points itself in even more important moral. Lee's mother rejects her daughter as the holiday approaches, because she's a judgmental bitch. Jck's family accepts her into their home, and their hearts, immediately. Because family, ultimately, is not who you are born with but who you choose. You don't have to spend time with someone if they make you hate yourself. That's an important message to hear, especially around Christmas.

Tying “Remember the Night” together is its lovable cast. Stanwyck is utterly delightful as Lee. She spits the razor-sharp dialogue with confidence and wit. She also displays a clear vulnerability, revealing the sensitive heart at the center of this thorny exterior. She plays off Fred MacMurray extremely well, who is also excellent as Jack. He brings a light-hearted energy to the part, approaching many every challenge with a smile. It's no wonder the two fall in love, as both are delightful. In the supporting cast, Sterling Holloway is immediately recognizable as Willie, the child-like handler on the ranch. Elizabeth Patterson is so sweet as Aunt Emma, in scenes when discussing the importance of acceptance with Lee over cooking pies.

By the way, “Remember the Night” has a good share of Christmas atmosphere. Its first shot is a snowy city street, with Santa ringing a bell on the corner. There's a tree decoration sequence, a New Year's party, and a big family dinner. In other words, it's an ideal fit to kick off a Christmas movie marathon with. The cast is excellent, the story is full of humor and heart, and the execution is competent. After enjoying this and “Christmas in July,” I guess I should definitely watch more Preston Sturges movie. [8/10]

Pee-Wee's Playhouse Christmas Special (1988)

People just a few years older than me have fond memories of Pee-Wee Herman and his Saturday morning “Playhouse.” My older sister, for example, was a big fan. By the time I was old enough to notice, that unfortunate porn theater incident had already ended Pee-Wee's career as a child entertainer. I actually have way fonder memories of Paul Reubens: Weirdo Character Actor than of his alter-ego. However, the “Pee-Wee's Playhouse” Christmas special is such a beloved nugget of Gen-X holiday lore that I felt I had to give ti a chance. The plot, as you'd expect, is loose. It concerns Pee-Wee celebrating at his playhouse while preparing his ridiculously long wish list for Santa, many friends and special guests coming and going as the roughly hour-long runtime progresses. 

I always assumed “Pee-Wee's Playhouse” was one of those kid's show heavy on the yelling and frantic energy. And, yeah, there is some of that. I think most people have heard of the running gag where the word of day – “year” in this case – is greeted with manic screaming every time it's said. The Playhouse is full of all sorts of bizarre characters, some of which are quite aggressively strange or annoying. Such as a robot that has a verbal tic of chattering noise every time it talks. Or a grouchy ventriloquist dummy. However, I was surprised to find “Pee-Wee's Playhouse” fairly charming in its whimsical touches. Pee-Wee has the mind of a little child which is why he perceives everything – his chair, his globe, and even the floor – as being alive. The production design of the titular location is pretty great in general.

Over all, I was surprised by how amusingly bizarre “Pee-Wee's Playhouse Christmas Special” was. There's quite a bit of good-natured surrealism here. At one point, Pee-Wee leaps into his giant etch-a-sketch, runs into Magic Johnson, and gets chased by a cartoon polar bear. Among the show's special quests stars are Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello, both of whom – in a delightfully mean-spirited joke – Pee-Wee cruelly forces to make Christmas cards for him. Dinah Shore calls Pee-Wee on his video phone and proceeds to sing an even longer and more torturous version of “The 12 Days of Christmas.” The special somehow takes the worn-out joke about Christmas fruit cake and makes it funny by taking the gag to its most extreme and extended punchline. By far, the best joke in the special involves the reveal that the family of stop-motion dinosaurs that live inside the Playhouse walls are, in fact, Jewish.

Paul Reuben was obviously inspired by classic variety shows, a genre that's pretty much extinct these days, so he packs his special with guest starts, musical numbers, and other diversions. Among the most notable special guests are random appearances from Whoopi Goldberg, Oprah, Cher, and Little Richard. Charo, the Del Ruvio Triplets, k.d. lang, and Grace Jones contribute high-energy variation on several holiday standards. William Marshall, Blacula himself, brings an immense dignity to the King of Cartoons while Larry Fishburne is delightfully silly as Cowboy Curtis. There's the expected moral about giving and charity but it's handled in an amusingly flippant manner. I've got to say, “Christmas at Pee-Wee's Playhouse” – which is a proper Christmas special, as it aired in prime time back in 1988 – is as exactly much oddball fun as I had always heard. Did this show have a Halloween episode? [8/10]

Director Report Card: Sam Raimi (1998)

7. A Simple Plan

Sam Raimi's first six features were all examples of the director putting his particular stamp on specific genres. His films were the stuff of comic books and pulp fiction. Horror, zombies, demonic possession, swashbucklers, superheroes and the Universal Monsters, film noir, slapstick, and spaghetti westerns were the narrative materials he was utilizing. One could make the argument that these are examples of juvenile, childish obsessions. If that's the point of view you take, then 1996's “A Simple Plan” begins a new phase in Raimi's career.  It represents his completed evolution into a mature filmmaker, someone who makes “serious” movies. This shift was rewarded with “A Simple Plan” becoming the first of Raimi's films to receive Academy Award nominations, for Best Supporting Actor and Best Adapted Screenplay.

Hank Mitchell lives a simple life in a small town in Minnesota. His wife, Sarah, is very pregnant. He works a low-paying but reliable job at a grain dispensary. He remains close with his brother, Jacob, who has never really recovered from the sudden death of their father. While out driving with Jacob and their mutual friend, Lou Chambers, the trio chases a fox into the woods. They come across a downed airplane, buried in the New Year's snow, a dead pilot behind the controls. A bag full of money is discovered inside, totaling out to four million dollars. Jacob and Lou, both unemployed, want to take the money but Hank is worried about it. He's eventually talked into it. And that is when his life descends into betrayal, paranoia, and bloodshed.

“A Simple Plan” begins with an irresistible premise. What would you do if four million dollars suddenly dropped into your lap? Even when split between three people, that's enough money to completely change someone's life. Of course, even before the criminals who want the money back show up, Hank and his friend's lives begin to fall apart. It's easy to say “A Simple Plan” is about that age-old adage of how “money is the root of all evil.” Not long after coming across the cash, the trio are committing murder to protect their secret. Lou demands his share and is threatening to blackmail Hank. The desire for the money, for the perceived changes in their lives it makes them imagine, is enough to make three pretty ordinary guys do horrible things.

But saying the money is the root of the evil is the easy way out. The cash does not insert these desires into the characters' lives. The opening scene paints the Minnesota small town as an idyllic place. The town sheriff stops to help people with dead car batteries, strictly out of the kindness of his heart. It's just after Christmas, the decorations still up across the town and in everyone's homes, seemingly pointing at the innocence of the location. Yet a darkness hides under the pure white snow that covers the town. Jacob tells Hank that their father killed himself, which the younger brother refuses to believe. Soon, the seemingly wholesome Hank is committing cold-blooded murder and thinking up schemes to cover his tracks in a calculated way. The capacity for these acts exist in every man, in any place, and “A Simple Plan” is about how it doesn't take much for this stuff to rise to the surface.

In many ways, “A Simple Plan” feels a lot like Sam taking some cues from his old buddy, Joel Coen. Raimi's film resembles “Fargo,” with its tale of murders playing out in a snowy, Midwestern setting. What really connects “A Simple Plan” to the Coen's movies, and Raimi's general aesthetic, is its interest in small town imbeciles. It's pretty obvious Jacob has some severe learning disabilities. He's socially awkward. He repeatedly undermines the titular simple plan with very foolish decisions. Lou, meanwhile, is a belligerent drunk who is destined to screw up the minute the money is discovered. Hank is obviously the most intelligent of the three, a college educated man who actually thinks about the ramifications of finding the cache of money... And even he concocts ridiculous plans, makes foolish agreements, and fails to deescalate tense situations. It makes a clear point about the banality of evil, how stupidity is often the real reason horrible decisions are made.

As often as the film points out the lack of intelligence in its protagonists, it is not mocking them. “A Simple Plan” feels a great deal of sympathy for its none-too-bright antiheroes. Something that drives many of the bad decisions Jacob makes is the ever-present tension that exist between him and Hank. Their father went into debt so that Hank could be given a college education. Jacob, meanwhile, was never promised anything, not even the dilapidated family farm. During an early scene, the two visit their dad's grave, Hank noticing Jacob left flowers there at an earlier point... Which seems like an odd way for the older brother to rebel against his more successful, younger sibling. Jacob, sometimes, makes his resentment of Hank more obvious. Anybody with a sibling can relate to this, that creeping sensation that one sibling was more loved than the other. The sense of disappointment that their familial bond isn't as strong as it seems it should be. This ultimate inability to connect drives much of the drama inherent in “A Simple Plan.”

Though “A Simple Plan” is not a horror movie, it sometimes feels like one. Raimi establishes a sense of quiet foreboding early on. The film features some perhaps on-the-nose symbolism. The very first scene in the movie features a fox sneaking into the hen house, making off with a chicken. This same fox causes the trio to swerve off the road, inadvertently leading them to the plane. Later on, a sense of danger is established again when a stuffed fox appears in the back of a room. This is not the only animal symbolism here. Crows often hang overhead, their black feathers standing out against the snow covered fields, an ever-present reminder of how badly things are going to go. This stuff is a bit obvious, maybe even cheesy. However, it also works,, creating an unsettling atmosphere that never truly lets up.

Up until this point, all of Sam Raimi's movies have been characterized by a visual dynamism, of rushing P.O.V. shots and crazy action sequences. In comparison, “A Simple Plan” is an unusually still movie. Raimi often frames his actors in wide shows, small figures moving across the snowy fields. Recalling the interiors of the “Evil Dead” cabin, Raimi makes every building in “A Simple Plan” feel cramped and hard to escape. Soon, you realize the camera is often placed outside wherever the cast is... As if a pair of eyes is watching everything they do. This mirrors the paranoia the characters feel, constantly afraid someone come and claim the money they have stolen. When Raimi's camera does move, such as when Hank and Sarah look over their shoulders at a drawling curtain while whispering about their scheme, the film is similarly replicating their paranoia. Raimi isn't just showing off but actually reflecting the film's themes in his visual construction.

“A Simple Plan' is a rare leading man part for the late, great Bill Paxton. Paxton is perfectly cast in the part of someone who seems to be a pleasant everyman. Hank loves his wife, is looking forward to becoming a father, and is friendly with everyone in town. Compared to the often foolish thoughts of his brother and friend, Hank tries to consider the consequences of his action. Paxton is excellent are project this honest and likable streak... Of course, there's also a darkness to the character, Hank showing an ability to perform ghastly acts with a cold determination. Paxton plays these moments as sudden compromises of his morality, which seem to horrify Hank himself.

Paxton is fantastic and exactly the kind of leading man this story needed. But another performance ends up dominating “A Simple Plan.” Billy Bob Thornton plays Jacob as just about the saddest moron you'll ever see in a movie. He's been rejected over and over again by life. His dreams, of rebuilding the farm his father built, are so humble. That's because he can't imagine a good life more complex than that. When driven to horrible actions, he breaks down in tears. By far, the most touching moment in the film comes when Jacob relates a story from his high school days, when a girl went out with him for a month on a bet. Thornton is so good at embodying that level of pathetic sympathy, of playing someone so achingly human in their failures.

While the three men and their obsession with the cash is what drives the story, there is a fourth voice here. Bridget Fonda plays Sarah, Hank's wife who iniatly seems even more reluctant to get involved with this than him. However, once those dollar signs and the ease they promise flash before her, she changes her tune. Suddenly, Fonda is a conviving Lady MacBeth type, pushing her husband into morally questionable schemes. Yet even her actions are driven by a quiet desperation. Another fantastic moment has Fonda explaining the hardships of her life and how this money is their chance to avoid them. Earlier in the film, Paxton has a passing line about how your suppose to “work for the American dream.” Fonda's moment here makes it clear what a piece of shit lie that is. Because honest labor has brought her family nothing but hardship while a bag of mysterious money falling out of the sky seems like a ticket out of this dead-end life.

After composing the March of the Dead for “Army of Darkness” and scoring “Darkman,” Danny Elfman would lend his talents to a Sam Raimi film without the word “dark” in its title. Elfman's music helps power the film's sense of unease. An effectively atonal piece of music, it begins with slightly out-of-cord piano nuts. Shrill flute cries that invoke both crow caws, as well as a shocking yell in the distance, subtly unsettle the audience. Acoustic guitars and fiddles recall the Midwestern setting while the mournful main melody suggests the tragedy that will unfold there soon enough. It moves Elfman out of his comfort zone – not a single jaunty tuba is heard – while perfectly supporting the film and being listenable as a piece of music, albeit a disturbing one.

A project that was nearly by directed by a diverse group of names including Mike Nichols, Ben Stiller, and John Boorman, Sam Raimi would prove to be an inspired choice to finally make “A Simple Plan.” His direction lends a sense of quiet unease to the proceedings while the story fits in with his subtle themes of criticizing American institutions. While I am a lover of Raimi's crazy cult movies, if he was going to make the transition to more “grown-up” genres, “A Simple Plan” is the best-case-scenario. It's a disquieting thriller that leaves the viewer on edge, easily standing among the director's best films. [Grade: A]

Director Report Card: Joe Johnston (2018)

12. The Nutcracker and the Four Realms
Co-directed with Lasse Hallstrom

In their continuing quest to dominate all of popular culture, Disney has fully committed themselves to cranking out live action remakes of their beloved animated classics. Despite, or most likely because, these movies are totally unnecessary nostalgia grabs, they make millions upon millions of dollars. We, once again, have the record breaking success of Tim Burton's “Alice in Wonderland” to thank for this. It's gotten to the point where Disney is doing live action remakes of fairy tales they haven't even turned into cartoons yet. The studio has never done a proper version of “The Nutcracker.”  Yet, in 2018, they would release a movie that would, for all intends and purposes, look and feel like a big budget live action version of a Disney animated adaptation of the famous ballet. “The Nutcracker and the Four Realms” would, naturally, be released around Christmas time last year.

But, if you're like me, right about now you might be thinking “Wait, why are you talking about this movie for a Joe Johnston retrospective? Didn't Lasse Hallstrom direct “The Nutcracker and the Four Realms?”” And, yes that is correct! Yet, when preparing to do this Report Card, I found the movie also listed on Joe Johnston's IMDb page. It turns out, after Hallstrom would direct the entire movie, Disney would call in Johnston – pleased with his work on “Captain America,” I guess – to direct a month of re-shoots. These were apparently so significant, and contributed so much to the final film, that Disney deemed it appropriate to give Johnston a directorial credit alongside Hallstrom.

It's Christmas Eve sometime in the Victorian era. Benjamin Stahlbaum has recently lost his wife, which has traumatized his daughter Clara. As it's the holidays, he gives his children the gifts their mother intended for them. Clara receives an egg-shaped music box which can only be opened with a special key. She accompanies her family to a Christmas ball, where her godfather – an inventor and friend of her mother named Drossellmeyer – gives her brother the gift of a nutcracker. Clara then follows a piece of string bearing her name into a magical wintry world. She finds her key but it is stolen by a strange mouse. Clara learns that her late mother visited this place once before, imbuing the citizens who live in these four realms with life. Now, a conflict is brewing between the rulers of the various kingdoms.

The short story and ballet that inspired “The Nutcracker and the Four Realms” was a classical fairy tale about a girl visiting a magical world full of strange inhabitants, predating better known examples of this story like Wonderland and Oz. Instead of doing a direct adaptation of that, Disney tries to build an elaborate mythology out of E.T.A. Hoffman and Tchaikovsky's characters and concepts. So we have a magical world, with inhabitants brought to life with a glowing substance. Each of the four realms is devoted to a different concept, like sweets, toys, snowflakes, or flowers. These are extremely cutesy ideas, involving Candyland like villages made of pastries or a forest populated only with Christmas trees. Trying to marry a serious mythos to such frilly concepts creates a disconnect in the viewer's head.

Honestly, it couldn't be more obvious that Disney engineered “The Nutcracker and the Four Realms” as a way to recreate past successes. A very British young girl wandering into a magical alternate universe, first visiting a snowy forest, obviously brings “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe” adaptation Disney was previously involved in to mind. Yet the film is clearly most emulating itself after Tim Burton's “Alice in Wonderland.” Both movies involves a young girl having a crazy adventure in an magical world, populated with colorful characters in bizarre outfits. Hallstrom even throws in some blatantly Burton-esque imagery. Such as a spiral staircase, a gloomy forest, or creepy and very round clowns that also act as living nesting dolls. The film is so blatant to remake other blockbuster that it doesn't have much of an identity of its own.

And, of course, Burton's “Alice in Wonderland” was trying to fit a much older type of story into a “Harry Potter/Lord of the Rings” shaped box. So the protagonist of the film has a bland Chosen One narrative, Clara prophesied to return and finish the job her mother began. There's a number of wise mentor characters that can direct her on the correct path. Moreover, the movie veers into epic fantasy action from time to time... Which is about as awkward a fit for the material as you'd imagine. Did you ever think a “Nutcracker” movie would have Helen Mirren attacking giant tin soldiers with a whip? Or feature a magical laser beam that can turn inanimate objects into living things? At least the film never quite explodes into full blown combat, which would have been even more inappropriate for a fucking Christmas story.

The main thing “The Nutcracker and the Four Realms” has going for it is its fucking insane production design. Even before things get all magical, the film features fantastically opulent sets and costumes. A maze outside the Christmas ball is quite a lovely design. Once we are in the Four Realms, the production design goes way over-the-top. There's an entire village made of candy, elaborate sleighs, a huge castle, ruined circus tents. More of the film appears to be practical than you might immediately assume too. The costume are similarly crazy. The Sugar Plum Fairy has hair made of cotton candy. Richard E. Grant has a dress suit made of icicles and there's another guy covered in flowers. It is the definition of gaudy but I have to admire the sheer display of imagination here.

Probably my favorite thing about “The Nutcracker” is the clear affection the film has for elaborate clockwork mechanism, one of the few elements it really takes from Hoffman's writing. The movie opens with Clara playing with an elaborate mouse trap. There's the fancy music box that motivates much of the story. This is blown up to giant size when Clara is taken inside an enormous clock, showing her how time operates in this alternate universe. However, like a few things, the film eventually takes this too far. By the time a giant clockwork Helen Mirren shows up, fighting a smaller army of still-large tin soldiers, things have officially gotten way too goofy.

For all its cartoonish opulence, “The Nutcracker” is at least attempting an honest theme. Clara is still recovering from the death of her mother. Her father has acted cold in the aftermath of that and the two haven't started to heal together yet. Eventually, this element manifests in the form of a cheap plot twist. You see, Helen Mirren's Ginger Queen is not the actual villain of this story, a tyrant seeking the subjugation of the Four Realms. It's in fact the Sugar Plum Fairy who has secretly been plotting control the entire time. This is all born of her inability to forgive Clara's mother for leaving, dying, and never returning. Attempting to incorporate a serious theme into such an overblown fantasy is a good thing, I guess. But the movie doesn't really go about it the best way.

Due to being a studio largely devoted to producing family films, Disney has often scooped up talented young actors and actresses to put in their movies. So, after giving a buzzy performances in “Interstellar,” Mackenzie Foy gets her chance to star in a Disney flick. Foy is a talented actress. She is certainly capable of carrying a motion picture of this size. She gives a decent performance, taking things seriously and being convincing on camera. However, one can't help but feel like Foy is not especially invested in the material. She's going through the motions and doing a good job of it without really pluming the depths of her abilities.

There's a number of recognizable faces in the supporting cast. Morgan Freeman shows up as Drosselmeyer, doing the wise old mentor routine he has done in a ton of other movies. However, Freeman is good at this and his scenes are a highlight of the movie. Casting Helen Mirren as a magical being with cracked China doll skin is a neat idea but Mirren's more entertaining instincts are handcuffed by the routine script. Befitting the overall tone of the material, Keira Knightly looks very silly in her bright pink outfits and acts accordingly ridiculous. It's a grotesquely over-the-top performance but there's some fun in that. Despite playing the title character, Jayden Fowora-Knight doesn't actually get much to do. However, he is a pleasant enough performer.

Watching “The Nutcracker and the Four Realms,” I really kept my eyes peeled for any sign that Joe Johnston had a hand in creating this movie. You don't really feel it much. The scenes set in the gloomy, grey forest remind me a little of Johnston's work on “The Wolfman.” The only scene that feels like his style at all is a sequence where an army goes into the woods, exploring an abandoned carnival, which is then attacked by a horde of mice, which form into an enormous man-like shape. (There's a Wilhelm scream in there too, which is how I know Johnston really directed this scene.) That's about it though. Hallstrom's fingerprints are evident throughout, with the soft and warm glow of many scenes. He oversaw the film's post-production, suggesting the movie truly belongs to him. However, Hallstrom has never made a CGI-packed spectacle of this level before. So you get the impression “The Nutcracker” was directed more by committee and assembled by effects experts and editors than any one man.

Honestly, and this should maybe comes as a “no shit” revelation, but the best scenes in “The Nutcracker and the Four Realms” are the ones devoted to ballet. While at the Christmas ball, there's a moment paying homage to “Fantasia” – which I guess sort of, kind of is a Disney animated adaptation of “The Nutcracker?” – where Freeman conducts an orchestra from behind a colorful screen. Later, while in the four realms, the history of the place is explained via a ballet. Which is an admittedly interesting way to get the exposition out of the way. Lastly, over the end credits, a more stripped down version of the various dances from the ballet are performed, also against colorful shading and lights. Honestly, all of these scenes just further convince me that Disney should've adapted “The Nutcracker” as an animated movie, instead of a live action epic.

As I've said in the past, there's always a chance a holiday movie may become a future classic through repeated seasonal television screenings, even if it flopped in theaters. “The Nutcracker and the Four Realms” definitely failed to attract an audience upon release last November. It grossed slightly more than its production budget at the global box office, obviously falling short of the kind of amount needed for a film of this scale to turn a profit. I have no idea if the movie will get shown a lot on TV around December in the future but I kind of doubt it'll become a future classic. Aside from some crazy costumes and sets, there's very little memorable about this one at all. [Grade: C-]

Going into this Director Report Card, I wondered if Joe Johnston would emerge as a proper auteur or if he would remain a workman of sorts. Well, I think it's fair to say Johnston has a style of his own, in-between the similar visuals of many of his films and the love of nostaglic adventure that drives most of his features. It's also interesting that his career has swung wildly between box office successes and pricey flops. In his own way, he's a filmmaker of huge ambition who always swings for the fences, even when the material isn't quite deserving of that level.

So what's next for the guy? Not much seems to be on the horizon right now. A few years back, he was attached to direct the next installment in the "Chronicles of Narnia" franchise, "The Silver Chair." Johnston also claimed the film would be his last. Since Netflix is rebooting the "Narnia" series, it looks like Johnston's version won't be getting made. How does that bode for his retirement announcement? Did directing "The Nutcracker" fill his desire to make a Christmas-adjacent fantasy film? I don't know, though I certainly hope he tries making another film eventually. I've enjoyed most of the dude's flicks. 

Director Report Card: Joe Dante (1984)

5. Gremlins

“Gremlins” was far from Joe Dante’s first film. He had a lengthy resume of editing other people’s films. He had direct a minor classic with “Piranha” and a genuinely great horror movie with “The Howling.” “Gremlins,” however, brought the director to previously unseen commercial success. It was a massive hit in its day, spawning a crap load of merchandise, numerous rip-offs, and has gone on to become one of the defining hits of the eighties. When reviewing films for a director’s report card, I try to separate my current opinion from nostalgia. I can’t do this with “Gremlins.” It’s a movie I’ve loved since childhood and one of the earliest horror movies I can remember embracing. Every year on December 1st, I greet the Christmas season by watching “Gremlins.”

Inventor Randall Peltzer is out of town and the holidays are coming up. While stopping into a strange shop in Chinatown, he decides to buy his son, Billy, a Christmas present. He returns home to Kingston Falls with a Mogwai, a furry and adorable creature from Chinese mythology. Yet the Mogwai, quickly named Gizmo, comes with a set of rules. Never get him wet, never expose him to sunlight, and never feed him after midnight. Naturally, two of these rules are soon broken, the wet Gizmo giving birth to a second generation of evil Mogwais. After these creatures trick Billy into feeding them after midnight, they grow into demonic, violent, and deeply mischievous gremlins. Led by the mohawked Stripe, the gremlins soon go about taking over Kingston Falls. Billy, teaming up with Kate, his crush, tries to save the town, protect Gizmo, and survive the night.

Films before “Gremlins” had explored the idea of what I call “little monsters.” (Or “lil’ monsters,” if I’m feeling especially rakish.) However, “Gremlins’ crystallized in the popular culture what a movie about diminutive critters wrecking chaos was like. That the movie’s titular antagonist recall nasty fairies and goblins of ancient lore is appropriate. “Gremlins” is something like a twisted fairy tale or fable. Its story of a father bringing home a strange pet for his son, not fully aware of the consequences, is almost iconic in its simplicity. The rules regarding the gremlins recall numerous ancient legends, of particular creatures with very specific laws governing them. The movie, naturally, acknowledges WWII folktales of gremlins damaging mechanics. “Gremlins” has a simplistic moral too, of not exploiting nature and taking responsibilities for your own actions. Maybe these archetypal elements is part of the reason why “Gremlins” resonated so deeply with the public.

“Gremlins” is also an oddball take on another story type: That of the magical pet. Randall Peltzer wanders into a stereotypical Asian parlor. The old man, not dissimilar to multiple Mr. Miyagi types that have appeared throughout pop culture, is wise but mysterious. His grandson, arrogant in his youth, sells the man the strange pet. The set-up recalls urban legends about Mexican pets. Instead, “Gremlins” goes in a different direction. Gizmo is the ideal pet. He’s adorable, cuddly, fun, and immediately personable. He coos in Howie Mandel’s high-pitched voice, singing an unforgettable little melody. He quips cute little phrases, slowly picking up on more as he goes along. “Gremlins” was widely sold on Gizmo’s adorableness. Pretty much no kid left the theater without wanting their own Mogwai. Of course, a movie about Gizmo being cute, fuzzy, and awesome would have been very different than the “Gremlins” we got.

“Gremlins” is also noted for bringing together the very different styles of three different directors. Chris Columbus’ screenplay, with the way the family bonds over crazy circumstances during the holidays, recalls his later nostalgic hit, “Home Alone.” However, the film mostly owes its success to the blending of Joe Dante’s anarchic style with Steven Spielberg’s sentimental touches. The two compliment each other nicely. “Gremlins” is set in an idyllic small town. Kingston Falls is obviously patterned after Bedford Falls from “It’s a Wonderful Life,” a connection the movie acknowledges. Despite being set in the modern day, Kingston Falls feels like a throwback. Mom stays at home, Dad works, everyone in town knows each other. The streets are not only clean but impeccably nice. The film is undeniably nostalgic for the simpler times of 1950s America. However, Spielberg and Dante’s approaches to baby boomer nostalgia are very different. Spielberg loves the idea of the nice, simple small town. Dante delights in tearing down the small town. “Gremlins’ is much more about the joy of destroying the small town than celebrating what’s nice about it.

“Gremlins” is also an awesome monster movie. Latex, rubber, mechanics, and robotics combined to make monsters with slimy textures and lots of personality. Chris Walas’ creature designs are intuitive and immediately iconic. Both the Mogwai and the gremlins have big ears and spindly limbs, connecting the two designs. Gizmo combines the cutest features of a teddy bear, a panda, and a rabbit while being completely distinct. The gremlins’ designs, meanwhile, loom large in my mind. They're scaly but expressive. They're fearsome but silly. They are intimidating while also having a lot of personality. The special effects create fully formed characters that the human cast can interact with. That there are no visible seams in “Gremlins,” save one moment of obvious stop-motion animation, is even more impressive, considering the scope of the project. There are a lot of monsters in “Gremlins.” And they look and act awesome.

How does “Gremlins” fare as a horror movie? At times, surprisingly well. The film is slow to reveal the monsters. We don’t even see Gizmo until the seventeen minute mark. We immediately like Gizmo. When stupid Corey Feldman spills some water on Gizmo, you feel bad for the little guy as he writhes in pain, giving birth. The new Mogwais are different, as Billy points out. After they have a snack after midnight, they are covered in slimy, greasy cocoons. There’s more blatant horror as the eggs hatch. The film treats these events very ominously. The Gremlins kill people, stabbing the high school bio teacher to death with a syringe. The first good look we get at the gremlins come when a door explodes open, the creature snarling at Billy suddenly. That’s a decent jump scare. Billy’s mom alone in the house with the gremlins is probably the scariest sequence in the movie. The violence here is outrageous. Gremlins are stabbed to death, exploded in a microwave, and spun around in a food processor. It’s awesome and grisly. When a gremlin leaps from a tree, trying to garrote her with a line of tinsel, you wonder if she’ll make it alive. That's right before the beast gets his head cut off with a fucking sword.

The film mines the titular monsters for scares at first but soon “Gremlins” evolves in other directions. The gremlins are, in an odd way, the satirical anti-heroes of the film. For example! Early on, we meet mean old Mrs. Deagle. Stingy and greedy, she seems to be evicting most of the people in town. She bitches about her crappy snowman lawn ornament and threatens to kill Billy’s dog. Her greed is best shown when we meet her cats, all which are named after forms of currency. So we hate Mrs. Deagle. When the gremlins kill her, the audience cheers. Mostly because her death scene is hilarious, with her body flying off the electric lift chair and out the window. However, this also aligns the audience with the chaotic gremlins. They’re monsters that kill people but we sort of like ‘em anyway.

In the latter half of “Gremlins,” the creatures graduate from threatening monsters to full-blown, comedic goofballs. This is most obvious during the bar scene. Despite the town being overwhelmed with monsters, Kate continues to man the bar. She lights cigarettes and pour drinks for the monsters. Meanwhile, they riotously goof off. One break dances, in a random ass reference to “Flashdance.” One twirls from a ceiling fan. One throws open his trench coat at Kate, flashing genitals he does not have. My favorite touch is the one gremlin brooding off in a corner by himself, drinking, smoking, his hat pulled down low. From the left side of a screen, a gremlin with a hand puppet pokes his head in, attempting to cheer the poor guy up. The comedic silliness peaks when the gremlins gather in a movie theater, entranced by “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.” The little monsters are so overwhelmed with joy that they sing along, dancing and cheering. One of them has popcorn bags on his ears. I love that guy. Joe Dante’s love of Loony Tunes shine through the most here. (Bugs Bunny even has a few cameos, in the form of stuffed toys.) The horror elements come back strong during Billy and Stripe’s terse stand-off in the shopping mall. Even then, there’s humor, as Stripe comically rides around on a scooter. The gremlins are meant to be scary but they’re also hilarious.

I referenced earlier that “Gremlins” is a Christmas tradition for me . The film packs in the Christmas atmosphere early, with a fine coating of white snow covering Kingston Falls. Evergreens are sold in the town square while holiday songs blare out of the car radios. Dante’s desire to skewer the traditional values of the American small town extends to his harsh treatment of Christmas. The Gremlins mock the holiday by yelling Christmas carols in their shrill shrieks. They leap from Christmas trees, pull down the lights, and, most brutally, maul a Santa Claus to death. The film’s attack on Christmas is strictly secular. You don’t see any gremlins wrecking a Nativity scene, though that would have been awesome. Instead, the film is all too willing to desecrate the American symbols of Christmas. That theme climaxes during maybe the most infamous scene in the film. I’m talking about, of course, Phoebe Cates’ monologue about what happened to her father. It’s heart-breaking, as Cates’ delivery is one-hundred percent sincere. It’s shocking, considering what she’s describing. It’s also darkly hilarious, as the story is delivered like a cruel joke.

The cast of “Gremlins” is mostly filled out with newcomers and character actors. It’s hard to believe that the biggest star in the film is Hoyt Axton, folk singer and occasional actor. Axton’s strong voice opens and closes the film. He has fun playing an atypical patriarch. This is the film that has defined Zach Galligan’s career. Billy is meant to be the iconic boy next door. Galligan certainly fills the role. He plays Billy as a pure innocent. His feelings for Kate appear completely non-sexual. Phoebe Cates had already taken off her top in “Fast Times at Ridgemont High” yet her Kate is an equally ideal small town girl. She’s sweet, funny, and shows a secret strength.

This is a Joe Dante movie so Dick Miller is in it, of course. Miller has a juicy role as the hard-drinking, unemployed Mr. Futterman. Mr. Futterman's drunken ramblings is what introduces the legend of the Gremlins and his reaction when the creatures appear is priceless. Cates’ “Fast Times” co-star Judge Reinhold plays a similar character, as an ass-kissing, obnoxious co-worker. Dante’s tendency to reference past films is most obvious in (the Real) Don Steele’s voice-only cameo as the town’s DJ, who somehow survives the night. Sharp-eyed viewers should watch for another Dante regular, Belinda Balaski, in a brief part as an unemployed mother.

Also contributing to “Gremlins’” success is Jerry Goldsmith’s score. This came during Goldsmith’s eighties flirtation with electronic music. So, at times, the music is overly tinny and obvious. However, the main melody is a classic piece of film music. The high-pitch, chirping music does two things. At first, in the opening scene, it implies the film’s Chinese setting. As the film goes on, the shrieking music recalls the gremlins’ laughter and slurred speech. The score even confirms this connection, since the end credits mix of the song ends with the gremlins’ manic laughter.

I can’t be truly objective about “Gremlins.” Is it a flawed movie? Of course. The script construction is not without problems. Billy trying to convince the local cops that the monsters are real is a disposable scene. Corey Feldman’s characters never contributes much. The pacing drags a bit in the middle. The schizophrenic shift in tone can be off-putting for a new viewer. I accept all of these problems. I still love “Gremlins.” The film is a blast and endlessly rewatchable. [Grade: A-]