Showing posts with label Christopher Lloyd. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christopher Lloyd. Show all posts

Saturday, November 21, 2015

Flying Over the Cuckoo's Nest



"If Mr. McMurphy doesn't want to take his medication orally, I'm sure we can arrange that he can have it some other way."

Nurse Ratched (Louise Fletcher)

As Roger Ebert wrote, Miloš Forman's "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest," which premiered 40 years ago today, "is on every list of favorite films." There's no arguing with that, I guess. In almost every conversation I have had with people who are movie fans, it winds up on such a list — and deservedly so. The American Film Institute ranks it #33.

But, in all that time, I have found zero agreement on what the movie is. Just about as many people say it is a comedy as say it is a tragedy — and even within those two groups, there is little further agreement.

I suspect that, as it so often is, the truth is somewhere in between. As the commercial parody on Saturday Night Live used to say, "It's a floor wax and a dessert topping."

The arrival of R.P. McMurphy (Jack Nicholson), a free–spirited repeat offender, in a mental institution caused ripples in the institutional framework that had been established by the dictatorial nurse in charge, Nurse Ratched (Louise Fletcher). McMurphy was just trying to convince the authorities that he was suffering from mental illness, and he could do his time in a mental hospital instead of a prison, but he was interfering with Nurse Ratched's oppressive regime of degradation, drug therapy and a mind–crushing routine.

The stage was set for a battle of wills — and, for the first three–quarters of the movie, I suppose, McMurphy had the upper hand. That part of the movie was definitely comedic, with McMurphy increasingly getting the better of Nurse Ratched. That wasn't easy to do because Nurse Ratched seemed to know what each patient's vulnerable spot was, and she didn't hesitate to exploit it.

I have never read the book on which the movie was based so my next observation may be obvious, but I always felt, for example, that when Nurse Ratched advocated keeping McMurphy in the ward even though her colleagues favored sending him back to prison — and prevailed — that she was motivated by the desire to break McMurphy as a warning to the others. Don't mess with me.

Maybe the group therapy sessions she had with some of the patients gave her insights that she noted for future reference.

McMurphy seemed to outsmart her at every turn in the first three–quarters of the movie, and there are some parts that everyone remembers about "Cuckoo's Nest" — even if the viewer has only seen it once.

For example, everyone remembers the fishing trip on which McMurphy took his colleagues. He hijacked a bus, then introduced the group (truthfully) as being from the mental institution but then (untruthfully) called nearly all of them "doctor."

A part that I always remember is McMurphy's reaction upon learning that most of the patients in the ward were there voluntarily and could leave whenever they chose — but he was committed and could be kept there indefinitely. Few people seem to remember it unless it is mentioned to them.

"Jesus, I mean, you guys do nothing but complain about how you can't stand it in this place here," McMurphy said, "and you don't have the guts just to walk out? What do you think you are, for Christ's sake, crazy or somethin'? Well you're not! You're not! You're no crazier than the average asshole out walkin' around on the streets, and that's it."

I suppose, if you mention that to one–time viewers, many of them will then remember that scene — and perhaps some will also remember how it foretold what the Chief (Will Sampson) did at the end of the movie.

But, as I say, they remember the fishing trip.

Or they remember McMurphy's campaign to have the TV tuned to the World Series. That was the first significant confrontation with Nurse Ratched, and McMurphy won it by persuading the Chief, who was believed to be deaf and dumb, to vote for the World Series.

But Nurse Ratched, in her controlling way, closed the vote before the Chief could break the tie and give McMurphy his victory. So I guess it wound up being a draw.

If you haven't seen it, I won't say any more — except to observe that "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" received nine Oscar nominations and won five — becoming the first movie in more than 40 years to sweep the five major categories — Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor, Best Actress and Best (Adapted) Screenplay. Only one movie has duplicated the feat in the 40 years since.

I don't know if it was their first movie appearances, but it was the first time I recall seeing Christopher Lloyd and Danny DeVito in anything. A few years later, though, they would both be cast in one of my favorite TV shows, Taxi.

Monday, May 25, 2015

Going Back to the Future ... One More Time



Marty (Michael J. Fox): I'm sorry, Doc. It's all my fault you're stuck back there. I never should have let Biff get to me.

Doc (Christopher Lloyd): Well, there are plenty worse places to be than the Old West. I could've ended up in the Dark Ages. They probably would have burned me at the stake as a heretic or something.

The final installment of the "Back to the Future" trilogy premiered on this day in 1990.

Some people never thought there should be a sequel to the original, let alone a third movie. I didn't particularly mind, as I wrote last year on the 25th anniversary of the premiere of the sequel, mainly because I enjoyed the premise. But, in hindsight, I must admit that the concept had about run its course after three movies. I'm glad they didn't go all "Rocky" — or, God forbid, all "Star Wars" — on us. That could have been messy.

(Still, time travel does have certain things in common with space travel, does it not?)

Beyond that, there were a few things for which I was grateful when I saw the trilogy's final installment.

For one, I was glad the producers of the movie didn't try to return to the future. I think they explored that concept about as much as they could — without actually knowing what the future held, which, of course, was the point of "Back to the Future Part II." Other than that, I can't think of too much in the way of other themes about the future that could be plausibly explored.

It is that very knowledge that we do have about the past that makes the concept of traveling back in history, not forward, so appealing. And the temptation always seems to be to go back to a time when a major event occurred, like the attack on Pearl Harbor, and use the knowledge one brings from the future to change that past.

(It is a theme that was explored in what is probably my favorite episode from the second generation of the Twilight Zone TV series. It was about a visitor from the future who returned to Dallas in November 1963 and altered history by preventing the assassination of John F. Kennedy. Turned out, though, that history requires something of equal value when its predetermined course is altered. Because the assassination had not happened as it was intended, serious storms erupted around the globe and the Soviet premier was assassinated.)

No, I don't think there was any more fertile ground to be plowed in the future. But the past is a different matter. The past is as vast as space, offering countless opportunities. The stuff about the '50s was pretty much exhausted, though, so it was essential to pick a different time, and the old West was as good as any. Marty could interact with his ancestors, Irish immigrants, and the always present inventor of the Time Machine, Doc Brown.

I thought it was good, for example, that Lea Thompson could continue her fine work in the third movie, playing Michael J. Fox's great–great–grandmother after playing his mother in the first two movies. And that lent itself nicely to some clashing–centuries humor. For example:

At one point, at a fund–raising party in the town square, Marty held up a plate that had the word Frisbee written on it. Frisbee, apparently, was the name of the maker of the plate or the business that served whatever had been on the plate, but Marty, of course, associated it with the plastic disc that was such a popular toy in the '70s and '80s. Marty said to his great–great–grandparents, "Hey, Frisbee! Far out!"

"What was the meanin' of that?" Fox, playing his great–great–grandfather, asked after the latter–day Marty had sauntered off.

"It was right in front of him," Thompson's character remarked.

Another thing I liked about the casting was that it featured Mary Steenburgen, an actress with whom I was familiar long before she started appearing on America's movie screens. For a time, she was a student at the central Arkansas college where my father was a religion professor, and she appeared in some campus productions. I think I even saw one once. Hard to remember now. But I knew her name. It was distinctive.

Ten years before she appeared in the final "Back to the Future" movie, Steenburgen won an Oscar for Best Supporting Actress for her performance in "Melvin and Howard." As far as I know, she is the only former student of that college to win an Oscar — probably the only one ever to be nominated for an Oscar.

Personally, I have always thought she was a good actress — even though she hasn't been nominated for an Oscar for any of her performances since.

Film critic Roger Ebert complained that the "looking-glass quality" from the first two movies was absent in the third, and there is something to that. There is also something to his characterization of the pace of the first two movies as "dizzying," a pace that, it seems to me, is inappropriate for a tale set mostly in the Old West — even if it did involve time travel as well.

Ebert didn't care for the sitcom quality of the Old West as presented in "Back to the Future Part III," but he did find one part of it endearing — the romance between Doc Brown (Christopher Lloyd) and Clara (Steenburgen).

He found one constant in all three movies: "a sort of bittersweet, elegiac quality involving romance and time."

"In the first movie," Ebert wrote, "McFly went back in time to be certain his parents had their first date. The second involved his own romance. The third involves Doc Brown and Clara. In all of these stories, there is the realization that love depends entirely on time. Lovers like to think their love is eternal.

"But do they ever realize it depends entirely on temporal coincidence, since, if they were not alive at the same time, romance hardly would be feasible?"


Hmmm. The relationship between romance and time travel. Something to ponder on the 25th anniversary of Part III's debut.

Saturday, November 22, 2014

Telling the Tale of a Trip Through Time



1955 Doc Brown (Christopher Lloyd): It was nice talking to you. Maybe we'll bump into each other sometime in the future.

1985 Doc Brown (Christopher Lloyd): Or the past.

I thoroughly enjoyed the original "Back to the Future."

When I saw it, it was pretty obvious that a sequel was planned — if not already in the works — and that was OK with me.

But I was disappointed.

See, I already knew "Back to the Future" was going to end up being a trilogy; consequently, I knew that the second installation would be incomplete, as second chapters in trilogies always are. They are extensions of the original — and promises that conclusions will be forthcoming — but they do not provide satisfactory resolutions. After all, gotta save something for Part III, right?

But there were other problems with this sequel.

In many ways, I thought Derek Armstrong of Allmovie.com made a good point when he wrote, "A successful sequel duplicates the characteristics that drew audiences to the original, but [director Robert] Zemeckis saps the buoyant spirit from the series by presenting a world dominated by the pimp–like, unimaginably wealthy and vulgar Biff."

The dark vision of the future in "Back to the Future Part II" offered little of the joy of the original — only most of the original cast.

I must say, though, that I appreciated the detail of the research. In the scene where young Biff was driving along and listening to the football scores on the radio, I can say that the scores are accurate from Saturday, Nov. 12, 1955. I checked on this once when the movie was showing on TV and was able to quickly confirm the authenticity of the scores in the sports almanac.

UCLA really did kick a late field goal to beat Washington, as Old Biff bet a skeptical Young Biff would happen while they sat in Young Biff's car and they listened to the final minute of the game on the car radio — and all those other scores that were mentioned by the radio announcer were accurate, too — but Biff shouldn't have been so surprised that UCLA pulled off a come–from–behind win.

UCLA was ranked fourth in the nation and ended up going to the Rose Bowl. Washington hadn't won a game in a month. As any sports fan can tell you, near upsets happen all the time; truly talented teams frequently find ways to overcome.

Of course, Biff confirmed that the scores matched the scores in the almanac — something he shouldn't have been doing while operating a vehicle, but perfectly in keeping with his character.

(Considering the size of the almanac and the movies' attention to detail, I — as a former sports copy editor — found it difficult to believe that every score of every sports event over half a century could be contained within its covers.)

There was a dark side to "Back to the Future Part II" that was more personal for Marty McFly, as answers.com observed.

I guess the point that the "Back to the Future" series made so well was Doc Brown's repeated admonition not to meddle in future (or past) events. His intention was to use the time machine only for research purposes, to observe and learn, not to become involved.

It isn't a new theme, this idea that history cannot be altered, and it would be a wise rule — if time travel were possible. But it isn't, and so the influence of the insertion of a visitor from another time remains theoretical.

Still, it makes sense, doesn't it? I'm a Southern boy so I liken it to something I saw all around me when I was growing up — dominoes. If you look at time like a row of dominoes — I don't know what the dominoes would represent; increments in time (days, weeks, months, years), I suppose — and if you further assume that one at the end of the line is not permitted to remain standing, its fall will affect the next domino, and that effect will continue until there are no more dominoes standing.

If you apply the domino analogy to the context of the "Back to the Future" movies, especially Part II, you do get to see an apocalyptic vision of a radically altered future.

And that seems to have been what Zemeckis was aiming for.

There really was a lot going on.

"I should have brought a big yellow legal pad to the screening," Roger Ebert wrote, "so I could take detailed notes just to keep the time–lines straight."

Ebert wrote of the "paradoxes" of time travel. That's probably the best word for it. I have to admit it was not what I was expecting. Given the nature of the first movie in the franchise, I expected something similar. Zemeckis threw me a curve.

But it intrigued me. What did the final installment in the trilogy have in store? We only had to wait six months to find out.

Monday, September 02, 2013

I'm Forever Blowing Ballgames ...



Ring Lardner (John Sayles): [serenading White Sox after Game 5, to the tune of "I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles"] I'm forever blowing ballgames, pretty ballgames in the air. I come from Chi, I hardly try, just go to bat and fade and die. Fortune's coming my way, that's why I don't care. I'm forever blowing ballgames, and the gamblers treat us fair.

"Eight Men Out," the movie about the Black Sox Scandal that premiered 25 years ago today, is one of my all–time favorite sports movies.

In the 21st century, it is almost a cliche to regard professional athletes as overpaid prima donnas — and, to be sure, many of today's professional athletes are precisely that.

But it wasn't always that way. It certainly wasn't that way in 1919 when the Chicago White Sox — who are still believed by many knowledgeable baseball folk to be one of the best squads of all time — deliberately threw the World Series on the promise of a big payoff from gamblers.

Both the movie and the book upon which it was based indicated that the key to the conspiracy was the allegiance of star pitcher Eddie Cicotte (David Strathairn), who resisted initial attempts to convince him to throw the Series.
Bill Burns (Christopher Lloyd): Eddie's gettin' too old for this. I know what it's like. You walk out there with your arm hangin'.

Billy Maharg (Richard Edson): You couldn't pitch when you was young, Burnsie.

Bill Burns: Eddie's the key. If we don't get him, we can forget about it.

In Cicotte's 1919 contract, White Sox owner Charlie Comiskey, who comes across as a greedy cheapskate in the book and the movie, had promised a bonus to Cicotte if he won 30 games that year; then, when it appeared that Cicotte might actually win 30 games, Comiskey allegedly ordered manager Kid Gleason (John Mahoney) to bench him in the final weeks of the season, ostensibly to rest him for the World Series.

(That was a claim that was a little hard to swallow, considering that the White Sox took the American League pennant by only 3½ games over runnerup Cleveland.

(The Indians had a 10–game winning streak in September. Meanwhile, the Sox limped across the finish line, losing seven of their last nine games.

(I've never heard anyone mention it, but that end–of–season skid by the Sox provided them with plausible cover for their collapse in the Series.)

Cicotte finished with 29 wins.

But he missed five starts, and it is certainly reasonable to think he would have won at least one of them — maybe more. That is apparently what Cicotte thought, too.

Anyway, when that happened, Cicotte agreed to participate in the conspiracy. He was 35 years old. He knew his career would be ending soon, and he had a wife and two daughters (a third child was born that year) to support.

And the $10,000 that was being offered to him was nearly twice his contract salary.

Chick Gandil (Michael Rooker): You go back to Boston and turn 70 grand at the drop of a hat? I find that hard to believe.

Sport Sullivan (Kevin Tighe): You say you can find seven men on the best club that ever took the field willin' to throw the World Series? I find that hard to believe.

Chick Gandil: You never played for Charlie Comiskey.

When Cicotte agreed to throw the Series, it opened the floodgates. The #2 pitcher in the rotation, Lefty Williams (James Read), got in on the conspiracy, along with a few other key players. There were eight in all including outfielder Hap Felsch (Charlie Sheen) and infielder Fred McMullin (Perry Lang), a utility player who did not play enough to affect the outcomes of games but was permitted to join the conspiracy after he heard other players talking about it and threatened to blow the whistle on them if he was not included.

Comiskey didn't exactly help himself with the rest of the team, either. He had promised them bonuses if they won the pennant, but when they did (with a winning percentage of .629), their "bonuses" turned out to be bottles of celebratory champagne (which, reportedly, were flat).

Consequently, many of the players were bitter. It was fertile ground for gamblers wanting to fix the Fall Classic.

Based on eyewitness accounts, most of the players who agreed to throw the World Series were obviously guilty. Cicotte lost two games, and Williams lost three (a World Series record), which was enough for Cincinnati to take the best–of–nine series.

But even today, nearly a century later, doubts remain about whether two players — Shoeless Joe Jackson (played by D.B. Sweeney) and Buck Weaver (John Cusack) — did anything to alter the outcome.

Jackson's batting average in the series was .375, he committed no errors (an important point on a team that made 12 errors in eight games), and he hit the series' only home run. Weaver hit .324 and also made no fielding errors.

(Cusack's Weaver may have been the most tragic figure in the story. Jackson was illiterate. His testimony before the grand jury clearly suggested he knew of the conspiracy but left the question of his actual participation open to interpretation. Shoeless Joe, it is worth pointing out, never received any payment.

(The evidence against Weaver was practically non–existent.)

Ring Lardner (John Sayles): Sports writers of the world, unite; you have nothing to lose but your bar privileges.

The infamous Black Sox scandal might never have seen the light of day, though, if not for the efforts of two intrepid Chicago sports writers, Ring Lardner (played by the movie's director, John Sayles) and especially Lardner's mentor, Hugh Fullerton (played by writer Studs Terkel), to expose what had happened.

Fullerton was a popular and prestigious sports writer whose suspicions were aroused before the start of the Series when he heard persistent talk that Cincinnati was a lock to win. When the Reds actually did win, Fullerton wrote a series of articles that forced major league baseball to investigate — and, ultimately, ban the eight ballplayers who had been involved (in some cases, as I say, allegedly so) from baseball for life.

Presumably for dramatic purposes, Sayles made some alterations to the story, particularly the part involving Fullerton and Lardner. In the movie, the two agreed, before the start of the first game, to keep score individually and make notes about plays that appeared "fishy." In reality, though, Fullerton did that with Hall of Fame pitcher Christy Mathewson.

Before the Series began, Gleason heard rumors of a fix as well, but he kept insisting that the players would come around. Perhaps they would have if Williams' wife had not been threatened before the eighth game. Williams was scheduled to pitch Game 8, and, like Cicotte, he had grown disenchanted with the scheme and seemed ready to pitch his usual game — until a hired killer threatened her.

The book on the scandal by Eliot Asinof was published 25 years before the movie was made, but the timing of the movie's release could hardly have been much better. Almost a year after the movie premiered, Pete Rose was banned from baseball for gambling on games.

What were the odds?

Saturday, July 03, 2010

Great Scott!



In hindsight, it seems like it was just downright impossible not to like "Back to the Future," which made its debut on America's movie screens 25 years ago today.

It was certainly timely, with the murderous Libyan terrorists intent upon reclaiming the stolen plutonium from Marty's sidekick, Doc Brown (who was memorably played by Christopher Lloyd) — and who played a pivotal role in telling the story.

And it was timeless, too, with its particular slant on the inevitable angst of the teen years. Each generation thinks it is unique in that department — but each generation is wrong. Nevertheless, each generation need its troubadours and story tellers, and director Robert Zemeckis was one of the best for those who came of age in the 1980s. (Personally, I think John Hughes was the best of that time, but Zemeckis, in spite of his apparent fondness for splashy film techniques and effects, deserves his share of recognition.)

In that sense, I guess it brought together two diverse movie audiences that almost never were attracted to the same movie — the angst–ridden teens and the geeky sci–fi fans, who might also be angst–ridden teens but were mostly written off by most in their teen world (not unlike the protagonists from "Revenge of the Nerds").

It was nostalgic for many viewers who actually remembered 1955 — and the groundbreaking rock 'n' roll that was being recorded around that time, yet it was up–to–date enough to incorporate a symbol of the more modern times — a DeLorean — to serve as the time machine.

And the cast was kind of a mix of the familiar and the unfamiliar. TV viewers (like me) who were fans of the TV series Taxi had seen Lloyd frequently as the perpetually stoned Rev. Jim who had a kind personality and a heart of gold. Thus, it probably wasn't much of a leap to accept him as the eccentric (yet personable) inventor, Doc Brown.
Doc Brown: "Tell me, Future Boy, who's president of the United States in 1985?"

Marty: "Ronald Reagan."

Doc Brown: "Ronald Reagan? The actor? Then who's vice president? Jerry Lewis? I suppose Jane Wyman is the first lady? And Jack Benny is secretary of the Treasury!"

Likewise, many in the audience had seen Michael J. Fox in his TV series, Family Ties, for the previous three years. I'm not sure if Marty McFly had a lot in common with Alex P. Keaton, but Fox was a sure draw. Family Ties had been intended to focus on the liberal parents, not the conservative children, but the viewing audience's positive response to Fox was so strong that he became the focus instead. His popularity never seemed to be about his character.

Their castmates, though not exactly newcomers, were hardly household names. Lea Thompson (who played Fox's mother) and Crispin Glover (who played his father) had been in a few movies prior to "Back to the Future." Thomas F. Wilson (who played Biff) was appearing in only his second film.

The initial draft of the film was done in 1981, and Zemeckis and co–writer Bob Gale began trying to find a studio for their project. But they soon encountered an odd dilemma — studios rejected it for not being sexual enough, then Disney rejected it because it wasn't in keeping with Disney's image to make a film about a mother who falls in love with her son.

Eventually, after Zemeckis enjoyed considerable success with "Romancing the Stone," Universal Pictures was persuaded to take on the project. And "Back to the Future" turned out to be a worthwhile investment. It was the highest–grossing film of 1985.

But on this day a quarter of a century ago, Zemeckis was worried that it would not succeed because Fox was unable to attend the premiere. He was fulfilling his contractual obligations to Family Ties and was busy with filming that was being done in London.

Looking back on it, of course, Zemeckis need not have worried. With a gross revenue of nearly $400 million, "Back to the Future" more than covered its $19 million budget.

Still, one must wonder what Lloyd and the rest of the cast must think of DirecTV's attempt to capitalize on the film's popularity a few years ago?

I'll grant you, the product was certainly futuristic. It clearly wasn't available in 1955.

But, for that matter, it wasn't available in 1985, either. And that's where that bolt of lightning was going to send Marty McFly.

So didn't that compromise the logic of the commercial?