Showing posts with label Karen Allen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Karen Allen. Show all posts

Sunday, June 12, 2016

Taking a Roller-Coaster Ride With Indiana Jones



Marion (Karen Allen): You're not the man I knew 10 years ago.

Indiana (Harrison Ford): It's not the years, honey. It's the mileage.

When George Lucas co–wrote "Raiders of the Lost Ark," which premiered on this date in 1981, his intention was to re–create the movie serials of the 1930s and 1940s.

That was before my time, but my parents used to watch the movie serials when they were children, and I gathered from their reaction to the movie that Lucas succeeded in his objective.

Film critic Roger Ebert apparently agreed with them, even though he was born in 1942. Movie serials continued to be made into the early 1950s so he was probably old enough to witness the end of that era — but certainly not its heyday. Nevertheless, his homage to the serials was as entertaining as it could be. I watched it again recently, and I probably enjoyed it as much as I did the first time I saw it.

Ebert wrote nearly 20 years after its debut that the movie "plays like an anthology of the best parts from all the Saturday matinee serials ever made," but he added that "I haven't seen much discussion of the movie's other driving theme, (director Steven) Spielberg's feelings about the Nazis."

Ebert went on to observe that Spielberg gave us his adult treatment of the Holocaust in movies like "Schindler's List," but it was Spielberg's inner teenager who made "Raiders of the Lost Ark."

It was full of edge–of–your–seat adventures from Nepal to Cairo with snakes, spiders, explosions, Nazis — and Karen Allen, who played Ford's sidekick, his best of the series, in my opinion. And it had moments that one remembers years after seeing them — like the iconic scene at the beginning of the movie in which Indiana Jones (Harrison Ford) outran the big ball.

That was in the first seven minutes. After that, no one should have had any doubt about what to expect in the next hour and a half. And what followed was most of the stuff that tends to appeal to teenage boys — primarily action and pretty girls.

It was a roller–coaster ride, from one adventure to the next, each one loosely connected to the central theme of the race between the Nazis and the good guys to find the Ark of the Covenant.

Perhaps the most amazing thing about it was that it worked.

I have seen only a few original serial episodes, but that was probably enough to get a good idea what the serials were like, and my impression was that they were, in a word, preposterous.

I suppose they had to be. The plot, as it were, existed solely to get the hero into some kind of predicament so, no matter how unlikely the premise might be, the viewer would accept it — it was the price that had to be paid to see the hero hanging from a cliff by his fingernails or something like that.

(It is much like the strategy my journalism professors encouraged for prodding a reader to read one's story all the way through. Newspaper readers, we were told then, give — on average — less than half an hour to the daily newspaper, and with so many news sources available today I am sure the average is much lower now. Most newspaper readers, our professors told us, skim the headlines and read the first paragraph or two of stories with headlines that intrigue them.

(My professors told us never to reveal everything we knew about a story in the first paragraph — or the second or the third ... Instead, we should give just enough information for the reader to want to be hungry for more and continue to the next paragraph — and the next and the next. Before they knew it, the readers had read the entire story — even if that had not been their original intention. Well, that was how it was supposed to work. And sometimes I guess it did — or does.)

And, too, I suppose that the serials seem more preposterous to me in 2016 than they did to someone in 1946 because moviemaking technology is so much better now with computer–generated graphics and all that stuff that didn't exist during the serials' heyday. It can make even the most preposterous plot seem plausible.

And yet ...

Was it so implausible to think that the Nazis would devote all those resources to locating a biblical artifact that may or may not have existed outside of the pages of the Bible?

After all, it is pretty well known that the Nazis sought supernatural support and justification for their cause — and, according to legend, any army that possessed the Ark was invincible. Could the Nazis have resisted such a concept?

It is beyond doubt that the Nazis actively sought any advantage they could get in World War II. The prophecies of Nostradamus, for example, were used as propaganda tools, and we know the Nazis were in a race with the West to develop a nuclear weapon.

Is it so far–fetched to think they might have been looking for the Ark, just as Spielberg and Lucas suggested?

I guess that is a matter of opinion. But the truth of the story was mostly irrelevant because, as Ebert noted, it was "just plain fun" — whether you were a teenage boy or not.

Sunday, December 14, 2014

Responding to an Invitation to Come and Visit Sometime



Starman (Jeff Bridges): Dutch apple pie with whipped cream. It's wonderful.

Jenny (Karen Allen): For a primitive species we have our points.

Voyager 2 was a space probe that was launched in 1977 to explore the solar system. It was actually launched before Voyager 1, but Voyager 2 moves slower and was passed by Voyager 1.

It is an extended mission that has been going on now for more than 37 years.

Each Voyager carried with it a gold–plated audio–visual disc. The idea was that, if the probe was found by an intelligent life form somewhere, that life form could see images and hear voice recordings and music from earth on that disc.

That, essentially, was the starting point of John Carpenter's "Starman," a movie starring Jeff Bridges and Karen Allen that made its debut 30 years ago today.

Unfortunately, "Starman" was largely overlooked when it was showing on the big screen. It cost $24 million to make and took in less than $29 million at the box office, which wasn't really in the same ballpark with the top–grossing films of 1985. That really is too bad because I thought it was a literate, clever and thoroughly plausible story.

Bridges was Starman, one of those intelligent life forms I was talking about. Someone from his civilization came across the probe, found the disc and heard a clear invitation for visitors to come to earth in peace. Apparently, it was decided to send a probe to earth, on which Starman (in whatever form he took — initially, he just appeared to be a blue ball) was riding, acting as some kind of advance scout.

"He, or it, has traveled to Earth in response to the invitation from Voyager," film critic Roger Ebert wrote, "but of course the Air Force treats the spacecraft as a possible invader and shoots missiles at it." Starman's vessel crashed in Wisconsin, near the home of Jenny Hayden (Karen Allen), a young widow.

He made his way to her home, where she had been drinking and reminiscing about her late husband before passing out. While she slept, Starman the blue ball entered the home and found all the mementos she had spread out in the living room, including a lock of her husband's hair.

Starman used the hair to clone a body for himself, then he used one of several smaller balls he carried with him (each of which seemed to have the power to do remarkable things) to contact his people. He informed them that his vessel had crashed and the terrain was hostile. He arranged to rendezvous with his people at a landing site in Arizona in three days' time.

Jenny had been awakened, and she witnessed him transmitting his message.

Starman managed to coerce Jenny into taking him to Arizona. At first, she tried to figure out ways to be stopped — or to get away from the Starman. But, at the same time, she was mesmerized. He looked so much like Scott — and he sounded like Scott.

She was torn.

After Jenny saw him revive a dead deer with another of his small balls, the movie became something of a bonding experience between the two. Starman had a rudimentary knowledge of English from the disc, and he learned how to communicate more effectively in the language.

Jenny taught him that humans weren't as uniformly primitive as he first believed.

However, one of humanity's more savage elements, the U.S. Army, was pursuing them with the intention of having a vivisectionist slice up the alien. A scientist from SETI (Charles Martin Smith) was with them, and he played an important role in allowing Starman and Jenny to escape.

Before he did so, he had some questions for Starman.

"Have people from your world been here before?" he wanted to know.

"Before, yes," Starman replied. "We are interested in your species."

"You mean you're some kind of anthropologist?" the scientist asked. "Is that what you're doing here? Just checking us out?"

"You are a strange species," Starman said. "Not like any other. And you'd be surprised how many there are. Intelligent but savage. Shall I tell you what I find beautiful about you?"

The scientist nodded, and then Starman delivered perhaps the best line of the movie.

"You are at your very best when things are worst."

I thought Bridges had another great line when, as he and Jenny were riding in a railroad boxcar, she asked him to describe the planet from which he came.

"It is beautiful," he replied. "Not like this, but it is beautiful. There is only one language, one law, one people. There is no war, no hunger. The strong do not victimize the helpless. We are very civilized, but we have lost something, I think. You are all so much alive, all so different."

And that really is humanity's great conundrum, isn't it? Well, it's one of them. We like to say that we value diversity, but humans are naturally suspicious of those who are different from themselves in some way. I guess it is a defense mechanism, honed by centuries of evolution.

Many people do not want to be like that and honestly despise that trait in themselves, but it remains a part of human nature — an ugly part, yes, but a part, nonetheless.

In his preparation to play Starman, I've heard that Bridges studied birds and their movements. His reasoning was that an alien would not have human characteristics and, finding himself in a human body, would act with animal instincts. I thought it was effective — and explained many things I did not know before I saw the movie.

It was effective enough that Bridges received an Oscar nomination, but he lost to F. Murray Abraham ("Amadeus"). It was the movie's only Oscar nomination.

Sunday, July 28, 2013

Not Since the Germans Bombed Pearl Harbor ...



Bluto (John Belushi): Nothing is over until we decide it is! Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor?

There seemed to be a real nostalgia wave in the 1970s. It was in music, in books, on TV and in the movies. It was everywhere.

I guess it is that way in every decade, for every generation. And I guess it is often nostalgia for the previous generation — for the way things were about 20 years earlier.

Well, maybe not, but that is how it was in the 1970s. Most of the longing seemed to be for the late '50s and early '60s.

By 1978, the time was right for spoofs, and National Lampoon stepped forward with "Animal House." I remember thinking of it as the anti–"American Graffiti" (If you're too young to remember "American Graffiti," it was a nostalgic movie that came out earlier in the decade — and, perhaps not–so–coincidentally — was set in 1962, the same year in which "Animal House" supposedly was set.)

John Belushi was the primary attraction for moviegoers that summer. Karen Allen and Kevin Bacon were making their big–screen debuts. Tim Matheson had been around for awhile, but nearly all his previous work had been on TV. He was a virtual stranger to movie audiences.

Donald Sutherland was probably the only cast member with extensive big–screen experience, but he wasn't the draw that Belushi, a national phenomenon since his Saturday Night Live days, was.

And Belushi was perfect for taking jabs at the establishment, whether it was on campus or somewhere else.

But his hard–partying reputation was particularly suited for lead booze–swigging frat boy. A few years later, everyone learned how tragically accurate that reputation was, but, in 1978, everyone was laughing.

In hindsight, there is often a poignancy to his lines:
"Grab a brew. Don't cost nothin'."

"See if you can guess what I am now. I'm a zit. Get it?"

"They took the bar! The whole f***ing bar!"

"Toga! Toga!"

"Seven years of college down the drain."
Belushi was a funny man. Everyone thought so, and people expected to laugh whenever they saw him.

Expectations may have been somewhat lower for the rest of the crew. Tim Matheson had been around for awhile, but he wasn't a household name until he played Otter.

Thomas Hulce had only been in one big–screen movie (which happened to be filmed in my hometown) when he played Pinto, but he went on to play Mozart in the Oscar–winning movie "Amadeus."

Kevin Bacon made his film debut as a smarmy Omega pledge in "Animal House," and he has gone on to appear in more than 50 movies since then, many of which have been hits.

Karen Allen made her debut in "Animal House" as well, and she, too, went on to appear in some very successful films. I thought she was very attractive when I saw her in "Animal House," and I continued to think so in her later movies.

(I've never seen the Indiana Jones movie in which she appeared a few years ago in her mid–50s, but I've seen pictures of her from that time, and I must say she still looks attractive. Older but attractive.)

You couldn't help empathizing with Allen's character. Her boyfriend was one of the officers in the Delta fraternity, and, on one occasion, she complained to him, "I'm in love with a retard!"

"Is he bigger than me?" her boyfriend asked.

The humor in "Animal House" was like that — it often needed a drummer to do the ba–boom after each gag line.

When I watch "Animal House" today, I guess the character with whom I relate the most is the one played by Sutherland.

An English professor named Jennings, Sutherland liked to be his students' friend, and I, too, enjoy casual conversations with my students — which can make it difficult when it comes time to lay down the law and make homework assignments or schedule exams.
Jennings: Don't write this down, but I find Milton probably as boring as you find Milton. Mrs. Milton found him boring, too. He's a little bit long–winded, he doesn't translate very well into our generation, and his jokes are terrible.

[Bell rings, students rise to leave]

Jennings: But that doesn't relieve you of your responsibility for this material. Now I'm waiting for reports from some of you. ... Listen, I'm not joking. This is my job!

I just concluded my seventh year of teaching, and I know what he meant a lot better than I did the first time I saw the movie. Of course, I was on the other side of the academic fence then!

For me, "Animal House" is one of those movies that I can't pick my favorite line or scene. There were so many great lines and scenes that it is hard to limit myself to quoting or citing just one.

I simply enjoy it every time I watch it because it does what any great comedy should do every time. It entertains.