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Classic movies for phobics

1980s films

Say Anything Is The Sure Thing’s Lame Younger Brother

03/17/2026 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com 2 Comments
Daphne Zuniga and John Cusack drenched in a scene from The Sure Thing (1985)


At this year’s Oscars, Daphne Zuniga and John Cusack were standing together to pay honor to Rob Reiner for his unforgettable but unappreciated second film, The Sure Thing (1985).

The main character, Gib (John Cusack), immediately became the romantic ideal of this writer as an eleven-year-old, a position he held for decades.

My sisters and I — entranced watching Gib shotgun a beer — all tried the maneuver with soda on our porch, with potentially catastrophic effects on the cement and on our esophagi. Before my ten-year high school reunion, I insisted a friend watch the film as part of our preparatory movie marathon, along with School Ties and other nostalgic faves.

“Why have I never heard of this?” she said afterward.

Exactly.

I know there could be many reasons for its lack of popularity: its distribution, a poorly chosen clip for its marketing campaign, bad timing. But for me, the culprit has always been that boom box, held aloft in the iconic scene from Say Anything four years later. If it weren’t for that image and the earworm song playing along with it, maybe the rest of you would stop talking about that lame Lloyd Dobler and instead celebrate his forerunner: Walter “Gib” Gibson.

Charming, hilarious, endearing Gib, who has a lot more going on than Lloyd, whose lapdog approach verges on pathetic.

Say Anything has always exasperated me. Part of it is my allegiance to Gib. Part of it is my conviction that Lloyd’s obsession is — at best — annoying. But perhaps the worst thing about that film is my confusion over its appeal, as if my peers had said, “Yeah, Alec Baldwin’s acting is okay in Glengarry Glen Ross, but have you seen William Baldwin in Sliver?”

For me, Say Anything would be a complete wash without Lloyd’s lovelorn best friend (Lili Taylor) and the song “In Your Eyes.” Cusack’s charm is considerable, but it’s not enough to gild that turkey of a character.

But of course, to convince you, I need to start where I did: with The Sure Thing, which thanks to Peter Gabriel, too few of you have seen. Once I take you through its many appeals, maybe you’ll take a second look at Lloyd and Gib.

Opening Scenes

Gib’s hopelessness at picking up women in high school is immediately established in The Sure Thing. Was there ever a worse pickup line than “Consider outer space?” Perhaps later, when Gib comes up with “Did you know that Nietzsche died of syphilis?”

We also quickly see that his bro-type friend, Lance (Anthony Edwards), is nothing like him. Gib may not be as sure of himself as Lance, but he’s witty. Gib feels despondent about striking out with high school girls, so Lance assures him that these girls will magically transform once they get to college. Gib, with a wry expression and shake of the head, says, “I’m gonna miss you, Lance.”

Soon Lance will leave for UCLA, while Gib will depart for a small Northeastern college. Unfortunately for Gib, his poor luck with women will continue, especially when he tries to pick up his classmate Alison, a stuffy academic type (Daphne Zuniga, pre-Melrose Place). He asks her to tutor him in English to woo her. It’s not a bad ploy. I enjoyed his dramatic depiction of his fast-food future if he doesn’t pass the class. But he soon pisses her off, making her an enemy instead. So, when Lance gives him an appealing prospect — come see me at Christmas and I’ll get you laid — Gib’s discovery that Alison will be accompanying him on the trip is not a happy moment.

So here we are, a road trip with two people who dislike one another, a rom-com standard since It Happened One Night. Hijinks are about to ensue, which will begin with the couple offering to drive them, played by Lisa Jane Persky and Tim Robbins. The couple wants to spend the cross-country hours singing showtunes. Witness Cusack’s hilariously horrified expression when this plan begins to be executed. He is every teenager everywhere. This guy is gonna be a star.

Believability

One thing I love about 80s films is that they often feature teens who are low on funds instead of focusing on the privileged. (In fact, when rich characters are included, they are often villains.) Neither the hero nor the heroine of The Sure Thing can afford airfare, so they go to the ride board (remember those?) Instead of dressing in fashionable or skimpy attire, the two are wearing unsexy (and in Gib’s case, ill-advised) outfits. Gib’s immature sleepwear looks like he’s worn it since he was fourteen. Neither can afford much to eat; we witness him snacking on pork rinds and snowballs. Alison is so worried about her parents’ rules she misses what constitutes an “emergency” that would enable her to use their credit card. These leads have always seemed like people I know, not the glamorous, unconvincing teens in so many movies I’ve seen since.

Likeability of the Characters

Both Gib and Alison are believably awkward with each other as their attraction grows. The characters’ combination of bravado and insecurity is exactly what it’s like to be that age.

Just a few years after Porky’s celebration of objectifying women, Gib’s character is sensitive in unexpected ways. Sure, he’s stereotypically masculine too. (Note when he shares his distaste for the name Elliot, the kind of guy, he says, who “eats paste,” which he compares to the name Nick, the “kind of guy who doesn’t mind if you puke in his car.”) Yet he checks on Alison after a scary encounter and is careful to respect her boundaries during their trip, making sure not to “try anything” she doesn’t want.

Alison, meanwhile, is afraid she’s not cool. She takes notes on every word the professor speaks in her English class, then can’t get past the professor’s jibe that she needs to live more adventurously. That’s why she overreacts when Gib teases her for being “repressed.” For me, a nerdy girl growing up in the 80s, Alison was pretty darn familiar. Gib was that charming combination of confident and sensitive that isn’t easy to find, especially in someone as attractive as Cusack. As a stressed-out freshman in college, I sought a (comparatively) relaxed boyfriend like Gib, so much so that I started dating the first person I met with terrible posture.

The film has also had some funny and enduring effects on my habits. Alison’s habit of nervously checking around a motel room for anything left behind has haunted me — and has resulted in extra care before departures — in every place I’ve stayed since.

The Humor of the Leads

As a kid, my favorite scene was Gib’s dramatic encounter with a sketchy truck driver. He’s just having so much fun freaking the guy out.

I’ve always loved the way Cusack plays Gib’s insecurity, as when he goes to a bar to escape when Alison is talking to her boyfriend on the phone. Even better is how he tries to impress her by showing off his supposed juggling skills when he returns.

Gib has so many good lines. My favorites are his defense of the nutritional value of pork rinds and when he shares the random questions running through his head: “Does God exist? Who invented liquid soap and why?”

Alison’s failure when she tries to shotgun a beer cracks me up. I also smile at Zuniga’s goofy delivery of “I’m the kind of gal who likes to live on the edge,” which says very clearly that she is anything but.

The Joys of the Minor Characters

Like Better Off Dead, another great Cusack flick, this film is full of funny minor characters.

The singing couple is great, with impressive performances from both actors. I hadn’t heard any of these rusty, awful tunes before, and I laugh aloud when the two become fearful of these teens they’re transporting and try to bar them from returning to the car, screaming, “Lock the doors!” It gets me every time.

I love the roommate who wants his almost certainly fictional sexual encounter to be published in Playboy.

Then there’s the semi driver who helps Gib get his “sure thing” (i.e., get laid without strings) because “my whole life, I never had a sure thing.”

Every single character in the dive bar where Gib goes to avoid Alison’s talk with her boyfriend is hilarious: The deadpan bartender, who looks at Gib’s fake ID and says, “Okay, Dr. Levinson, what’ll it be?” The fed-up waitress with her Flo of Mel’s Diner hair and her disdainful glances at her clientele. The charming customers who cheer up Gib with their Christmas carols and their uncertainty of whether they are “goodlooking” men. I can’t decide which I like more: the guy asking the waitress for critiques on his self-discipline or the cowboy, who tells his companions, “I was in Paris once with my wife. Boy, am I glad she’s dead.”

For those of us who relish funny encounters, The Sure Thing has always felt aspirational as well as entertaining.

The Romance

Zuniga doesn’t have Cusack’s talent, but she was very good in this film. Alison’s uncertainty and awkwardness come through in Zuniga’s voice, posture, and expressions.

Cusack is amazing in it: by turns sarcastic, tender, playful, and wistful. Still a teen when this film was produced, he is a far better comedic actor in this, his first lead role, than actors twice his age.

He and Zuniga have great chemistry, and their growth as characters in the movie is sweet and believable. Gib grows up in Alison’s company, and she learns to relax and act more her age (i.e., not 85). What I love is that these are incremental growths: the characters still are fundamentally who they always were.

Of course, the “sure thing” (Nicolette Sheridan) isn’t much of a character, nor is Alison’s boyfriend. But we get more humorous encounters with Lance (Edwards) in the final scenes, including what he did to set up this situation for his friend.

I won’t reveal the end. If it’s a little cheesy, that sentimentality is earned, and Cusack and Zuniga sell it.

The Comparison

Before I left for my junior year in England in the mid-1990s, I discussed with a friend the horror of a partner being with you with nothing to do. He nodded; he felt the same. The image of Lloyd, sitting in Diane’s (Ione Skye’s) dorm room playing video games and practicing kickboxing, the sport “of the future,” while she tries to enjoy her fellowship was one of the reasons that my own boyfriend and I agreed that long distance was a good alternative for us.

I shivered at these lines from Say Anything, thinking of Lloyd glomming onto her:

Diane’s dad: “What are your plans for the future?”

Lloyed: “Spend as much time as possible with Diane before she leaves.”

Sure, Lloyd looks good compared to Diane’s criminal father. But that’s not a high bar. Being adrift at his age isn’t a bad sign; it’s even endearing. But she is driven and has a once-in-a- lifetime opportunity he’s about to derail. Clingy is not a good look, even on John Cusack.

And Diane, oh Diane. At points Skye’s acting is so stilted I found it difficult to watch, so it was hard to feel for her character. While Diane is attracted to Lloyd, it felt like she was just replacing her dad with another guy to lean on.

I laughed a few times during Say Anything, mainly at Lili Taylor’s funny delivery and descriptions of her ex. Compare that to The Sure Thing. The last time I saw it, it had been over a decade, and I still remembered so many scenes and lines with affection. And even though I knew everything coming, I laughed countless times.

When Rob Reiner died, I hoped there would be a reappraisal of this underappreciated comedic gem he’d directed, which was well-reviewed when it first came out. Roger Ebert had given it three and a half out of four stars and called it a “small miracle.”

Since Say Anything was not one of Reiner’s films, I thought The Sure Thing would finally get the due it had never been granted. Instead, the movie became a footnote in Reiner’s obituary, mentioned as if it were a regrettable blip between This Is Spinal Tap and Stand by Me. What a shame.

Hopefully, Zuniga and Cusack standing together to honor Reiner (still adorable together) will be a reminder to those who love it and a wake-up call to those who have never seen it.

Daphne Zuniga and John Cusack honor Rob Reiner at the Oscars.


Even if you like Say Anything, you should watch Cusack’s first starring role to witness the charisma that would turn him into a heartthrob and beloved comedy icon. There’s a dusting of that charm in Say Anything, but if you want to encounter its full wattage, spend a little time with Gib in The Sure Thing.

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Posted in: 1980s films, Oscars, Romantic Comedies (film) Tagged: college romance, Daphne Zuniga, John Cusack films, Nicolette Sheridan, Oscars tribute, road rom coms, Rob Reiner, Say Anything, teen romance, The Sure Thing, underrated rom-coms

Glenn Close’s Most Stunning Role

07/25/2024 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com Leave a Comment


Episode 2 of the femme fatales season of Nobody Knows Anything is up!! Dangerous Liaisons, a film that pits the dueling wits of Glenn Close and John Malkovitch against each other in a fight over love and power . . . . and also, Keanu Reeves is there, being strangely perfect in eighteenth-century dress. We ask this critical question: Can the femme fatale ever win? (Just why Close didn’t get the Oscar for this is a big mystery.)

See the link in the image above!

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Posted in: 1980s films, Anti-Romance films, Drama (film), Feminism, Femme fatales, Film Noir/Crime/Thriller & Mystery, Humor, Romance (films), Romantic Comedies (film) Tagged: Dangerous Liaisons, Glenn Close, Glenn Close's best roles, great leading roles for women, John Malkovitch, Keanu Reeves, Michelle Pfeiffer, Oscar snubs

The 10 Funniest Xmas Movies

12/22/2023 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com 4 Comments

In no particular order except for #1, my favorite to rewatch:


1. The Ref (1994). The non-sentimental xmas movie I love most. The real question is who is the funniest here: Denis Leary, who has taken a family hostage? Judy Davis and Kevin Spacey, as The War-of-the-Roses-worthy combatants who make us feel sorry for the criminal? Christine Baranski as the outrageously funny sister-in-law? Or Glynis Johns, the mother-in-law from hell?


2. A Christmas Story (1983). It’s brilliant. It’s beloved. And it’s a great translation of a witty author’s style (Jean Shepherd) with excellent performances all round.


3. The Man Who Came to Dinner (1942). A grumpy, hilarious, ba-humbug house guest (Monty Woolley) treating his host family like serfs. Shenanigans with Ann Sheridan. Bette Davis playing a normal woman and still enjoying herself. Get this set of writers: Julius and Philip Epstein (yes, of Casablanca fame) adapting a play by George Kaufman and Moss Hart. What’s not to love?


4. National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (1989). I’m a huge fan of the Griswalds. Clark’s (Chevy Chase’s) xmas lights alone keep me in stitches.


5. Bad Santa (2003). Because Billy Bob Thornton does surly so very well.


6. The Bishop’s Wife (1947). Cary Grant plays an angel as well as Thornton plays a grump. The angel’s methods are so charming and funny. My favorite scenes include watching everyone (realistically) falling over themselves in Grant’s presence, and his magic liquor-filling skills with Monty Woolley.


7. Christmas in Connecticut (1945). We have a double-charm offensive in Barbara Stanwyck and S. Z. Sakall (aka Cuddles). And Sydney Greenstreet adds some nice bluster. I could lose the smarmy love interest (Dennis Morgan), but who cares? Give me Stanwyck tossing pancakes with her eyes shut every time.

8. Die Hard (1988). As a Gen Xer, I couldn’t leave this out. Also, I adore Bruce Willis’s humor.


9. It’s a Wonderful Life (1946). Nearly a perfect film. As many heartrending as comedic scenes, but funny all the same.


10. Remember the Night (1940). Another dramedy with an empathetic heart that doesn’t sell out. Plus, Preston Sturges’s writing and dynamic duo Barbara Stanwyck and Fred MacMurray without a corpse.

Almost Made the Cut: Elf (2003). Cute, but not an annual viewing for me.
Bonus: Home for the Holidays (1995). A Christmas-vibey Thanksgiving movie, so it counts. Hilarious and true family dynamics, and Holly Hunter at her most adorable.

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Posted in: 1940s films, 1980s films, 1990-current films, Comedies (film), Humor Tagged: A Christmas Story, Bad Santa, best xmas movies, Christmas in Connecticut, Die Hard, funniest xmas movies, Home for the Holidays, It's a Wonderful Life, National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, Remember the Night, The Bishop's Wife, The Man Who Came to Dinner, The Ref

In Praise of USA Up All Night

04/12/2022 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com 10 Comments

Today I felt a pang on hearing about Gilbert Gottfried’s death. Of course I found him annoying, but I also loved him. He–and Rhonda Shear–gave me USA Up All Night just when I needed it, a show that taught me valuable lessons that have stayed with me ever since. Here’s what I learned from that weekend stalwart, which, for the uninitiated, basically consisted of terrible, terrible movies playing from 11 pm /12 am till the wee hours on Fridays and Saturdays, with interludes of jokes, skits, and commentaries from the hosts.

  1. You Can Find Amusement in So Many Things. Camp was always appreciated in my family: my Uncle Ed’s running commentary on Slugs was a family reunion highlight. But in between those beloved family visits, I had Gottfried and Rhonda, poking fun of absurdly terrible B movies that no other channel would even play. Even Rhonda’s ridiculously perky enunciation of UP could make me laugh. To this day, I find enjoyment in so much pop culture that others don’t, and that’s partly thanks to USA Up All Night.
  2. Don’t Take Your Job Too Seriously. True, it’s hard to not laugh about your job when you’re commenting on Cheerleaders Beach Party. But Gottfried’s constant amusement (you could definitely see “This is my job?” in his expression) reminded me that every job doesn’t have to be a forever-career or vocation. Sometimes, you pay the bills doing something silly, and that’s OK. (And most of us do have absurd tasks even in the most serious of jobs.)
  3. Binging Movies Is Fun. Oh, you poor souls who didn’t learn this fact until Netflix. Gottfried and Rhonda (and the earlier host I never watched, Caroline Schlitt) taught us Gen Xers this back in the early 90s. Think of all the years of joy you missed!
  4. Embrace Your Awkward Self. Gottfried and Rhonda were never cool. They were goofy and absurd and nerdy and silly. But because they clearly didn’t care WHAT they were, they reminded me, an awkward teenage girl, that I didn’t have to be cool to have fun.
  5. Make Solitary Friday Nights an Occasion. In my twenties and early thirties, I moved states several times, each time alone. I was always either single or dating someone long distance, so Friday nights were rough on me. I hated the time it took to be moved from new friends’ weekday to their weekend rituals. To stave off the loneliness, I’d splurge on Fridays: wine, chocolate, good bread, and cheese. Maybe even takeout. I’d grab that remote and begin my movies, and all was right with the world. Sometimes, my preparations led to unhelpful comments by store clerks. (“Oooh-hoooh, honey, you’re having a romantic night tonight, huh?”) But in time, these Fridays became so peaceful and cathartic that I missed them when I had plans. (A bit of a foretaste of middle age, huh?) Would I have known to make an occasion of movie binging each Friday, without Gottfried and Rhonda’s example?
  6. You Never Know What Your Impact Will Be. I don’t think Gottfried could have anticipated that he’d be celebrated by a writer for USA Up All Night when he died thirty years later, do you? You just never know.

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Posted in: 1970s films, 1980s films, 1990-current films, Comedies (film), Humor, Random, TV & Pop Culture, Uncategorized Tagged: camp movies, Gilbert Gottfried, in memoriam, Rhonda Shear, USA Up All Night

5 Awful Romances We’re Supposed to Like

02/13/2022 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com 4 Comments
  1. Romeo & Juliet. This guy was in love with another gal last week. This is not a romance for the ages; this is a guy who can’t handle being without a girlfriend. Juliet, why didn’t you hold out for something better?
  2. The Teens of Say Anything. Diane (Ione Skye), I’m sure you’re going to have a great time on your British adventure while your boyfriend, Lloyd Dobler (John Cusack), is hanging out in your apartment watching kickboxing videos all day. I know your daddy, the embezzler, set the bar for men low, but come on.
  3. The Cheaters of Something Borrowed. Hollywood has such a low opinion of us really. We’re asked to get behind Rachel (Ginnifer Goodwin), who had sex with her best friend’s fiancé, Dex (Colin Egglesfield). We’re supposed to root for the cheaters’ love to prevail because the betrayed friend, Darcy (Kate Hudson), is vain, and Dex used to like Rachel. Ummm, what??
  4. Heathcliff & Catherine of Wuthering Heights. Ahhh, the sociopath and the narcissist. Now that’s a coupling that we all want to see, right?
  5. The Unnamed Heroine & Maxim de Winter of Rebecca. So, when you find out your husband killed his ex in a rage, the proper reaction is NOT to feel better (because now you know he didn’t love her). That makes you almost as creepy as he is. I’ve never rooted so hard for a (dead) villain of a story.

Those are five of the least ideal couples that novels, plays, and movies would have us celebrate. I can come up with ten more without trying. Which couples do you find the most laughably awful?

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Posted in: 1980s films, 1990-current films, Anti-Romance films, Comedies (film), Drama (film), Romance (films), Romantic Comedies (film) Tagged: bad couples, Lloyd Dobler, overrated couples, Rebecca, Romeo and Juliet, Say Anything, Something Borrowed, Wuthering Heights

They Live: Best Conspiracy Film?

03/31/2021 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com Leave a Comment

Join my friends’ and my new podcast! Tomorrow we feature the gum-chewing, sunglass-wearing Roddy Piper as he breaks through all the conventions of conspiracy films we’ve discussed so far. Don’t miss it.

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Posted in: 1980s films, Action & Sports Films, Anti-Romance films, Comedies (film), Drama (film), Humor, Random Tagged: best conspiracy films, John Carpenter, Nobody Knows Anything, podcast, Roddy Piper, They Live

New Podcast on Conspiracy Films!

03/18/2021 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com Leave a Comment

Join my friends and me as we talk about conspiracy films in this conspiracy-laden moment in history! It’s such fun talking film with my witty partners, Michael Keenan Gutierrez and Brian Wilkins. And I think you’ll enjoy our strange journey–from an early Hitchcock to the present moment. The 39 Steps and Dr. Strangelove start us off. Check out our podcast, Nobody Knows Anything, or go directly to Spotify or Apple Podcasts to find us. We’ll be posting more in the coming days on our Twitter and Instagram accounts. We begin by thinking about the important things, like how attractive you have to be in order to seduce an international spy with haddock. (Answer: Robert-Donat-with-a-mustache attractive.) For excerpts from our conversation, click below!

Here’s a clip of our 39 Steps talk!
And here’s a clip of our Dr. Strangelove chat.
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Posted in: 1930s films, 1960s films, 1970s films, 1980s films, 1990-current films, Uncategorized Tagged: Bourne Identity, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, conspiracy movies, Dr. Strangelove, film reviews, films, podcast, The 39 Steps, They Live, Three Days of the Condor

Guilty Pleasure: Somewhere in Time

02/29/2020 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com 21 Comments

Do I watch this film in front of others? No.
Do I recommend it to others? No.
Do I praise it anywhere public? No.
Have I watched it many times? Oh yes.

There’s something to be said for that first love story that gets you as a kid. I was quite young when I first saw Somewhere in Time on TV–I have a faint memory of my mother recommending it, but whether I watched it with her, I don’t know. What I do know is that at whatever single-digit age I was when I first viewed this film, it became the MOST ROMANTIC STORY EVER for me.

A man traveling through time for a woman? A woman giving up big stardom for a man? Both of them finding their longer lives without each other worthless in comparison with the time they had together? I mean, what kid wouldn’t swoon? But now, as an adult far more comfortable expressing sarcasm than sentiment, I have to confess: I like it still.

I feel reluctant to share the plot, as anyone reading this probably already knows it, but here it goes: An elderly woman approaches playwright Richard Collier (Christopher Reeve) after a party celebrating his first college production. She gives him a pocket watch, saying, “Come back to me,” goes back home, and smiling, dies. In the meantime, Collier moves to Chicago to work on his plays. Eight years later, experiencing writer’s block, he books a room in the Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island for a night away. The island is near his former college, and its rules forbidding cars give the place an otherworldly quality.

Waiting for the hotel’s restaurant to open, he wanders into one of those little museum nooks in the hotel, documenting the history of the hotel. On the wall is a photo of a breathtaking woman.

Collier, intrigued and quickly becoming obsessed, asks Arthur (Bill Erwin), an elderly hotel employee who spent his youth at the hotel, about her. Collier learns that she was Elise McKenna, a stage star who put on a play in 1912 at the hotel theater. Collier goes to the library to discover more about McKenna and learns she became the old lady who gave him the pocket watch at his play. Through a visit to McKenna’s old caregiver (played by Teresa Wright!!), Collier discovers that the stage actress pored over a book about time travel written by his professor in college. Naturally, Collier hunts him down and discovers the professor once tried self-hypnosis into another time. The professor believes if you have no modern trappings around you, it’s possible to go back, however briefly. Collier, with an early 1900s suit and old coins, begins his attempt. Eventually, he’ll succeed, woo his love, be chased away by her oppressive manager, William Fawcett Robinson (Christopher Plummer), and finally get to be with her in time for her to take the photo that inspired his journey. What happens next, I won’t spoil, but trust me, it doesn’t get any less sentimental.

I found Christopher Reeve’s Richard Collier (what a name!) adorably awkward and smitten. I particularly enjoyed his affectionate treatment of the young version of hotel employee Arthur (Sean Hayden), and his refusal to be embarrassed even though he’s wearing a suit that (in McKenna’s day) is completely out of fashion. He also doesn’t seem to mind that he keeps sleeping in and dirtying up this suit, which must be disgusting by the time he unites with McKenna. But it’s that oblivious, single-minded attention to his lover that is so attractive in the film (though in real life, it would be alarming).

Jane Seymour’s Elise McKenna is stunning. The woman Seymour played was the person I wanted to be as a kid: an artist, accomplished, passionate. I wanted her hair, her clothes, her allure. For years afterward, Jane Seymour was my vision of unattainable beauty, and while my other 80s standards faded with time and/or growing sense and taste, that one didn’t. Because seriously? How ridiculously beautiful is that woman now, much less then?

And Christopher Reeve was so handsome, two years after Superman fame. Just check him out in his period duds:

If fact, it took this most recent viewing of the film for me to even note Christopher Plummer’s shockingly good looks, so distracted was I by the others.

Of course, the best parts of the film are the perfect music choices, just lovely enough to elevate the film: John Barry’s haunting score, and the The 18th variation of Sergei Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini.

I became intrigued about the novel on which the film was based, and learned the early stage actress Maude Adams and her manager/producer, Charles Frohman, were the loose inspiration for McKenna and her manager. Best known now for putting Peter Pan (with Adams in the lead) on the stage, the pair were tremendously successful. She never married. Frohman’s personality is captured sympathetically by Dustin Hoffman in Finding Neverland. The producer comes across as charming, friendly, and well loved in true accounts as well, not as the lonely, bitter figure Plummer portrays in the film; clearly, the cruel figure fit the film’s plot better (though I found myself sympathetic to his annoyance–if not his responses to–Collier’s puppyish behavior this time). I found the real producer’s final brave hours and words on the doomed Lusitania moving.

In more lighthearted research, I learned that the hotel in the film STILL has Somewhere in Time celebration weekends, that its fan club has a playful quiz on the film. For someone abashed about loving such a sentimental film, I admire this group’s openness. My embarrassment at liking it, however, does make sense too: there’s too much use of slow-mo, some stilted dialogue, and a disturbing approval of the lengths the couple goes to for love at the end of the film.

But Seymour’s sincerity in the role and Reeve’s earnestness and good humor made me love the movie again, despite my reservations. I decided, as before, to dispense with judgment and just live in this world a while. (As with Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, when I just accepted the flying as a given.) There is some wistful magic to the couple’s commitment to one another; there is charm in the ease of Collier’s time travel, suggesting their love was destined. The narrative seems to borrow heavily from the film Laura (also with captivatingly sweet music, also with a picture of the heroine that haunts a man) and from Portrait of Jennie, which likewise gets longing right. The actors’ chemistry is perfect; they truly seem in love. Just check out these expressions as they look at one another.


It’s not surprising that the two remained lifelong friends.

And you know, this kind of nostalgic story is never going to lose its appeal. Witness the book and TV series Outlander, winning new audiences into enchantment at the idea of time-crossed lovers as I write.

This blog post is part of The Leap Day blogathon, hosted by Taking Up Room. I love this idea of celebrating February 29th by reflecting on time-confused/unexpected films. Check out the other entries here!

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Posted in: 1980s films, Romance (films) Tagged: guilty pleasure movies, Jane Seymour, Somewhere in Time

Spielberg Needs a Better Editor–or These Classic Films

01/14/2018 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com 16 Comments


I just watched The Post, and as usual with a Steven Spielberg film, I was thoroughly enjoying it, hoping, “Maybe he’s avoided it this time!” And then WHAM! There it is: The schmaltzy, on-the-nose scenes and/or musical selections that undo the magic he has so skillfully woven. And so again, I must wonder, Why?

All creators have worst instincts: tendencies to overdramatize, to underdramatize, to love terrible actresses only because they’re icy blondes. If they’re wise, they find a collaborator or editor to curb their worst impulses. If they’re not, they double down, find others who encourage or exaggerate those impulses. Spielberg clearly thinks his work needs no counter-voice (like his similar editing-averse peer, Martin Scorsese), and as a result, we get scenes in The Post like Meryl Streep walking down the stairs with young women gazing at her in admiration, and a Supreme Court judgment read aloud dramatically. And then Spielberg gets folks like me, a lowly blog reviewer in a $7 matinee, grumbling to herself, “Come on, Steven. This is not Lifetime. Cut it out.” Which is not to say that I disliked The Post. That’s the problem. I love Spielberg’s work. I just wish he’d stop ruining it.

Here’s what I wish Spielberg would watch for inspiration:

The “Win One for the Gipper” Speech from Knute Rockne All American


Rockne’s invocation of a previous player’s (George Gipp’s) dying wish to rev up his team would seem, on the surface, hopelessly manipulative. Onscreen at least, it’s anything but. Because it’s a highly charged moment, I was expecting some annoying inspirational music (I’m looking at you, Steven. Amistad’s ruined-by-treacle potential still haunts me.) Instead, the scene is quiet, with only background noise from the game. Pat O’Brien delivers the deathbed wish (that a losing Notre Dame team will go against the odds and pull out a win) as an obligation. He’s fulfilling a promise, nothing more. His voice is quiet; his face reserved, somber. As a result, the moment seems authentic. He’s delivered his sad charge, and it’s up to the players to make what they will of it, to win or not. The scene is, as a result of these decisions, deeply moving. And inspirational.

It’s an elementary writing practice: heightened moments require understatement. Why then must we viewers be subjected to John Williams overplaying the score in every dramatic Spielberg scene? (I don’t doubt Williams’s talent, but he too likes melodrama, doubling the bad impulse.*) Why show us a row of young women fawning over Graham instead of a single smile of a single person? I don’t get it. Nor should Steven.

Meet John Doe & Mr. Smith Goes to Washington
Critics often reference Spielberg’s emulations of/similarities to Frank Capra. I see what they mean. There’s an optimism to Capra’s work, a hope in government and humanity, that is echoed in Spielberg’s films. And in the Capra movie I dislike most, You Can’t Take It With You, I see the same lack of subtlety and complexity Spielberg is sometimes prone to. But there’s a darkness and cynicism to Capra’s work that enriches and tempers his idealism, which is beautifully rendered in Meet John Doe and even in It’s a Wonderful Life. In Capra’s best work, the hero/heroine is compromised.

Take the newspaper story, Meet John Doe. Ann Mitchell (Barbara Stanwyck) fabricates a story about a disillusioned everyman, John Doe, and then leads the campaign to lionize a man who agrees to play the part (Gary Cooper). She plies the man to give speeches repeating her father’s wholesome maxims about humanity. Her idealism–and desire to influence her society with it–blind her to how little control she’ll have over the outcome of this experiment, and the life she’s risking with her carelessness. Note that Joe, the innocent here, is NOT the hero. Why? Because he’s not as interesting to watch or as human a character as Ann.

Consider Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. Jefferson Smith (Jimmy Stewart) may be the focus of the film, but Saunders (Jean Arthur); the wised up, cynical DC staffer; is our lens on the story, a woman who is complicit in a culture that destroys naive idealists like Jefferson.


Spotlight understood this necessity for compromised heroes. It derived its energy from the guilt The Boston Globe reporters felt about the coverup of priests’ sexual crimes. Obviously, the paper was not responsible for the child abuse, but they felt they fell short in their watchdog duties by not connecting the dots/seeing the extent of the issue earlier. Without this guilt, the movie would just be bad priests versus noble reporters, the kind of simplistic storytelling we expect out of Superman, not Oscar winners.

Unfortunately, The Post includes no such complexity. While we see that Katherine Graham (Meryl Streep) worries about losing her paper and betraying a friend should she publish the Pentagon Papers, we don’t care about her kids/her family’s legacy/the other stories that might never get told without her paper if it folds. Nixon and his White House are portrayed in comically bad terms, which obviously resonates with those of us who feel the White House is in similar peril now. But we’re talking film making. And while in life there are clear right-versus-wrong conflicts, they don’t make for good cinema. If we at least got what it cost her just to carry on with that paper in the face of her husband’s loss, we’d understand more of Graham’s potential sacrifice. But Spielberg relies on Meryl Streep to deliver too much of this import, and a few throwaway lines don’t cut it.

Perhaps there IS no way to tell this specific story without it appearing so black and white, or at least it seems so in 2018. But I think the key was to let us see more of Graham’s history or even guilt–even if that guilt was considering NOT publishing, however briefly. By acting as if all of her concerns weigh on her equally (the revenue of the publication, her friendship with McNamara, her family’s legacy, soldiers in Vietnam dying), Spielberg may play up the drama of the decision, but he cheapens her thought process, doesn’t allow us to see the struggle against self-interest and rationalization. We therefore see her as more of cypher, and her decision as waffling and random.

That said, it’s a tribute to Spielberg that he still makes the film–and her–so fun to watch. But with a little more Capra viewing, maybe he’d make his heroes and heroines just a little less glowing, just a little more like the rest of us: rusty people, with great potential for more.

The Ending of Casablanca
Typically, Spielberg has a beautiful ending about a half hour before the actual conclusion of his movies, and instead of stopping there, he just keeps going. The peak excitement in The Post is in the decision to print, not in the aftermath, so why does the film continue? A few lines on the screen would have worked better. (Although the VERY end of The Post is too on point, I do appreciate the humor.)

I wish Spielberg would rewatch Casablanca: The hero says his final words; the heroine expresses hers.


The heroine gets on the plane, it takes off, and the hero gets a funny final line. Done. Bows are unnecessary.

Why can’t Spielberg trust his viewers to get it, as director Michael Curtiz did? Why must Spielberg underline, add exclamation points? I don’t need extreme subtlety, but I don’t need words across the sky either.

The Post is still so good–fascinating, rousing, entertaining, a great history lesson, beautifully acted. I loved both Tom Hanks and Meryl Streep in it. I wanted to dwell longer in this world, wanted more time with Ben Bradlee (Hanks) in particular. I loved the mechanics of the press, the feel of the newsroom. The film is a pleasure to watch, and so meaningful in its message. Yes, it’s good. But with Spielberg at the helm, with a harsher red pen, it could have been so much more.

The Color Purple
Before I conclude, there is one final film I’d like Spielberg to view, if I got my wish.


The Color Purple is perfect. No false notes. All complexity (even the bad guy has some heart, and redemption). No extra half hour of cheesiness. (And talk about #MeToo!) Please, Steven. Watch it. See what you got right when you directed it. Replicate.

*I should say that The Post is an unusually restrained film for Spielberg music-wise, for which I’m grateful.

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Posted in: 1930s films, 1940s films, 1980s films, 1990-current films, Drama (film), Oscars Tagged: Casablanca, Knute Rockne: All American, Meet John Doe, Meryl Streep, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, newspaper movies, potential Oscar nominees, The Post, Tom Hanks

Movies to Combat Moving Blues

09/16/2017 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com 11 Comments


**Some spoilers, but then again, this is a comedy.***

I’ve been remiss in my blogging lately, due to my second move in a year. The last apartment resounded with construction noises next door, loud and consistent and close enough to drive me to repacking. So again I’ve been drowning in UHaul boxes, unsticking packing tape from my shoes, figuring out just how little I can get away with repurchasing, and wondering how few calls I can make changing my rental address.

Films about renting typically revolve around roommates, so to find characters to commiserate with (and limit the number of real-life sufferers from my complaints), I’ve turned to stories about much bigger headaches than mine: Walter’s (Tom Hanks) and Anna’s (Shelley Long) alternately endearing and hilarious breakdowns after they buy the lemon in The Money PIt (1986). The lovable Blandings (Cary Grant and Myrna Loy) as they sink their cash into first destroying one house, then building another in its place in Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House (1948).

I like both films so much, but today, I’m going to discuss the original: Tired of fighting over mirrors and closets and other ills of close apartment living with a spouse and two kids, Jim Blandings (Grant) convinces his wife, Muriel (Loy), to move to Connecticut with him, to a big shambling old relic that’s just about to crumble. Comedy ensues, especially when Jim’s jealousy over his lawyer (who once dated Muriel) surfaces while he’s trying to tackle falling parts and failed wells and bad bathroom locks. Of course, Jim and Muriel soon find the costs building up and the issues with first the old, then the replacement house mounting. So much to love about this film. Let’s begin with:

The Realistic Depiction of Marriage
The Blandings frequently squabble about everyday annoyances, but my favorite moments are those that display patience with one another’s faults, as when Jim refuses to believe Muriel knows the directions to their new place, and she patiently waits out his acknowledgment of her correctness through multiple wrong turns, a quiet smile and gaze toward the sky revealing her amusement at how it’s all going to turn out:


Unlike most films that depict a husband jealous of his wife’s affections, Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House does a subtle job conveying quietly brewing suspicions. While Jim’s jealous of his lawyer, Bill (Melyvn Douglas), throughout the film, the sentiment is understated, only boiling over when his stress level does, and therefore never failing to feel authentic. Weaker comedies play such weaknesses broadly instead; the sophisticated version of jealousy here matches that in so many more marriages, and therefore is funnier.

The (Meta) Supporting Actor Casting
The actor playing Grant’s object of jealousy is Melvyn Douglas, often viewed as a second-rate replacement for Grant in romantic comedies. He’s debonair and can be charming, but he’s no Grant.


But Douglas is always better as a supporting actor than as a hero, and does great work as the foil in this film. And some may say he did get the last laugh: he, unlike Grant, his romantic lead rival, would win not one, but two Oscars later in his career.

The Inspired Acting (and Chemistry) of Grant & Loy
Every frame of the film conveys the joy of home ownership and the stress of building and moving so well, thanks to the stellar performances. Honestly, as mobile as these two stars’ faces are, this film could have easily been a silent. Just take these shots of Grant in smirk and self-embarrassment mode, respectively.


Or Loy’s face as she expresses love, mockery, and shocked anger in turn:


The actors’ best scene is after Jim expresses jealousy over his wife’s past relationship with Bill. His expressions–one part suspicion, one part hope, one part shame–are so nuanced and real.

When he pouts, asking why she married him, she fires back in a brilliantly worded (thanks to the script) rebuttal:

“I’m beginning to wonder….” she says. “Maybe I knew you were going to bring me out to this $38,000 icebox, with a dried-up trout stream and no windows…Or maybe I just happened to fall in love with you, but for heaven’s sake, don’t ask me why.”

The scene is pitch-perfect Loy. Only she could be so angry and endearing simultaneously.

Quibbles
Luckily, the voiceover narration, which is occasionally grating, is in short supply. It is used to great effect in the opening, which depicts decidedly unidyllic city living.

I’m not a big fan of the scene in the film most love, when Muriel gives a comic level of detail about the wall colors she wants, and the painters reduce her requirements to red, yellow, etc. as soon as she turns her back. It’s just so sexist, so “oh that silly woman” in its approach. In contrast, her sink mistake, which is also depicted as foolhardy, is treated as if it’s on the same level as Jim’s errors. But Loy is fabulous in the painting scene, sure she’ll be taken seriously and oblivious to the painters’ condescension.


While Jim’s work stress during the building is a little undercooked plotwise, there are comic gems, as when Grant’s creative process is depicted:


But the joy of these brief work scenes is undermined by the portrayal of Gussy (Louise Beavers), the housekeeper, who will later be featured, Aunt Jemima style, in Jim’s ad about some Spam-like product. He does offer her a $10 raise for coming up with the ad idea that saves his job, and she doesn’t come across as stereotypically as some black actresses at the time did (Gussy does, after all, originate the ad). But it sure would be cool to see more for Beavers (and Gussy), especially given how progressive Loy was, and given Beavers’s earlier star-making turn in Imitation of Life.

Of course, the film’s legacy, despite these weaknesses, comes down to….

Its Comic Writing & Pacing
Wry humor sparkles throughout, especially when Grant has a breakdown near the film’s close. When the couple is first purchasing the old house, others observe that it’s junk, as when Bill looks at the Blandings and observes, “It’s a good thing there are two of you. One to love it, and one to hold it up,” or when Jim asks for a structural engineer’s analysis of the house, and the man succinctly replies, “Tear it down,” a caution two other engineers repeat, word for word.

The film is so efficiently edited, so quickly paced, that there’s little time to dwell on one change before another is brewing, accurately echoing the hectic pace of changing a home.

I love that so much goes wrong in the film that the move itself is briefly canvassed in order to get on to the bigger problems. Jim’s jealousy is also neatly addressed, without sidelining the story of the house. Unlike its indirect remake, Money Pit, the film doesn’t address the number of people swindling or lying to the Blandings (besides the house cost) so much, instead relying on ignorant decisions and accidents of nature. I love when the Blandings, with no knowledge of architecture, settle down to each add all their own cool features to the blueprints, as the architect looks on in dismay:


And yet, as unrealistic and financially reckless as the two prove to be, you also see why it’s worth it, to find the home they want, to set aside the troubles it took to get there. And in the moments they enjoy it, you’re proud of this idealistic couple. Proud that in spite of all their foolishness, they stubbornly hold on, and get what they wanted. It may not always be true, or even often be true, but sometimes, it’s just worth it to try for that dream home.

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Posted in: 1940s films, 1980s films, Comedies (film), Romantic Comedies (film) Tagged: Cary Grant and Myrna Loy, classic movie review, homebuilding movies, If you like Money Pit, moving movies, Shelley Long, Tom Hanks
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