The Screengrab : marc shaiman

Yesterday's Hits: City Slickers (1991, Ron Underwood)

Paul Clark — Fri, 12 Sep 2008 19:00:00 GMT

What made City Slickers a hit?: The Western was one of classical Hollywood’s most popular genres. But while the greatest Westerns have endured in the American consciousness to this day, the popularity of Western films went downhill during the 1960s. By the 1980s, the number of Westerns made by Hollywood had dwindled to a handful of titles per year, and only a few of these (Young Guns, Dances With Wolves) made any money. At a time when people sat through long commutes to work and sweated the economic recession, it was hard for most audiences to relate to the old-fashioned cowboy mythos.

Yet even then, Westerns exerted a pull on our imaginations. The inspiration behind City Slickers was the way it combined the pleasures of an old-fashioned cattle-drive Western with characters with whom the audience could identify. The movie’s heroes weren’t larger than life, but rather a trio of middle-aged everyguys trying to escape the doldrums of modern life- bad marriages, dead-end jobs, fears of growing old- by embracing (after a fashion) the cowboy lifestyle, if only for two weeks. Add to this the presence of popular comic Billy Crystal, who has recently shown his leading-man chops with 1989’s When Harry Met Sally, and the combination of comedy and cowboys proved irresistible to audiences. City Slickers became one of 1991’s biggest hits, raking in nearly $125 million at the domestic box office.

What happened?: Sometimes, there’s no easily-pinpointed factor to explain a movie’s fall from its original level of popularity. While some blockbusters continue to factor prominently in popular culture and others fall from grace, most just sort of fade into the background. Of course, the misbegotten 1994 sequel City Slickers II: The Legend of Curly’s Gold didn’t help matters. But mostly, City Slickers’ lack of enduring pop culture influence can be chalked up to the fact that it appealed primarily to middle-aged moviegoers, rarely the sort of audiences that fanatically obsess over a movie until it enters the popular lexicon.

Does City Slickers still work?: It mostly does, although it’s not without its drawbacks. For a movie that was sold primarily on its famously funny leading man, the comedic scenes are among the movie’s least effective. Part of the problem is Crystal, whose trademark kvetching (and oft-repeated refrain of “hel-loooooooooo???”) quickly becomes irritating. Not helping matters is director Ron Underwood’s misguided decision to underscore all of the big slapstick moments with jaunty, cutesy music by Marc Shaiman. These scenes lean too heavily on the wacky factor, which drains away whatever wit was originally there.

But while it’s not nearly as funny as it thinks it is, City Slickers is a sturdy and self-aware twist on the Western genre. Despite their fast-paced modern lives, lifelong friends Mitch (Crystal), Phil (Daniel Stern) and Ed (Bruno Kirby) were raised on Westerns, and this colors their experiences on the trail. They show both fear and respect for aging trail boss Curly (Oscar-winner Jack Palance), who Mitch proclaims “the toughest guy I’ve ever seen,” but the two of them also bond during their time together on the trail. The characters explicitly reference Red River, The Magnificent Seven, Rawhide, Bonanza, and other favorites, but they do so in a way that presents them as shared pieces of their past instead of simply clever allusions. And the movie becomes surprisingly exciting when the unlikely cowpokes have to bring the herd in by themselves, and it’s a satisfying scene when they actually pull it off.

However, City Slickers is at its best when dealing with the friendship between its heroes. Screenwriters Lowell Ganz and Babaloo Mandel were Hollywood’s go-to guys in the late eighties and early nineties for mainstream fare about middle-aged everyguys, and this movie demonstrates why. Likewise, Crystal, Stern and Kirby have an easy and infectious bonhomie that makes them convincing as three men who’ve remained friends through both good and bad. The late Kirby is especially good as the most pragmatic of the three, who worked his way up from a difficult childhood to create a comfortable life, but has never lost his taste for adventure. And verbal shtick aside, Crystal is affecting as the ill-at-ease salaryman Mitch, who ventures West with his lifelong friends with the goal of “finding his smile.” In the end, he does, and so did I.

OST: "South Park - Bigger, Longer and Uncut"

Leonard Pierce — Tue, 17 Jun 2008 19:30:00 GMT

Most critics expected, when the anarchic, devotedly vulgar Comedy Central cartoon hit the big screen, that it would be pretty funny and remarkably foul-mouthed. They were right on both counts, but what few people expected is that it would also be unexpectedly profound (or, well, as profound as a movie featuring Satan and Saddam Hussein as feuding gay lovers could be), with a message about censorship that was more practical than self-righteous, and that its parodic sensibilities would be so remarkable spot-on. In fact, given the direction that the series took -- becoming increasingly more dogmatic and quite a bit more obvious in its political point-making -- it's easy to see the 1999 film as the pinnacle of the South Park experience, where everyone involved really hit their stride.

This is especially true with the movie's exceptionally enjoyable soundtrack. Rather than going for a more contemporary feel, creators Trey Parker and Matt Stone, in conjunction with Hollywood music vet Marc Shaiman -- decided to go whole hog with a big-screen musical parody, tossing everything from Disneyesque ballads of longing to amped-up schoolyard jingles that play like something out of a Busby Berkeley musical to battle hymns juiced with triumphal orchestral swells to big-screen Oscar bait weepers made of 100% processed cheese. The remarkable thing about them was how perfectly the parodies worked: so well, in fact, that the obnoxious bigot's anthem "Blame Canada" actually got itself nominated for an Academy Award for Best Song, leaving the show's producers with the difficult question of how to stage a musical number featuring language that wasn't allowed to be heard on television. (They came up with the elegant solution of having Robin Williams sing the live version of "Blame Canada" during the Oscar ceremony, and he's capable of draining the funny out of anything, so nobody complained.) The songs on the soundtrack are pitch-perfect parodies; if you strip away the relentlessly filthy language and the subversive bits of the lyrics, there's almost nothing whatever to set them apart from the cheeseball Elton John melodies in a first-tier animated Disney "modern" classic. It's the pouring on of tons of formal sincerity -- and then the total upending with gobs and gobs of adolescent toilet irony -- that makes the whole soundtrack work so remarkably well.

(One caveat: the praise we heap on the South Park: Bigger, Longer and Uncut soundtrack applies only to the original songs featured in the main story of the movie. The "bonus tracks" on the album, mostly rap and metal reworkings of songs in the film, are largely reprehensible, bottom-drawer, 100% filler. There's some fun to be had with a Violent Femmes cover of "I Can Change", and it's amusing for exactly one listen to hear Rush's Geddy Lee sing "O Canada", but other than that, everything after track 12 can be safely deleted from your hard drive.)

BEST TRACKS: The wildly jolly, almost Vaudevillian show tune that is "Uncle Fucka" -- a horribly profane ditty sung by the Canadian cartoon duo Terrance & Phillip that goes several light-years beyond gratuitous -- gets things rolling early on. Eric Cartman's rendition of a song previously rendered on the small screen as an extemporaraneous schoolyard taunt, "Kyle's Mom is a Big Fat Bitch", is served up with all the gusto of a Broadway show-stopper, complete with novelty international choruses. "Eyes of a Child" is such a thick, fragrant slice of bogus emotional cheesiness, it's easy to see Michael McDonald crooning it on a lite-rock FM station in your dentist's office, which makes it all the more amazing that they actually got Michael McDonald to sing it here; and if nothing else, "I Can Change" is the only time in cinematic history in which we see former Iraqi strongman Saddam Hussein crooning a jaunty ditty in order to seduce the Prince of Darkness into going to bed with him. So far, at least.

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Unwatchable #95: “Marci X”

Scott Von Doviak — Wed, 14 May 2008 19:00:00 GMT

Our fearless – and quite possibly senseless – movie janitor is watching every movie on the IMDb Bottom 100 list. Join us now for another installment of Unwatchable.

I don’t remember lapsing into a coma or being cryogenically frozen at any point during the summer of 2003, but something must have happened, because I have absolutely no memory of the existence of Marci X. The IMDb tells me it opened on 1200 screens on August 24th of that year, earning a not so robust $872,950 in its opening weekend en route to a total gross of just over $1.6 million. That would be a flop, sure, but I saw plenty of flops that summer on behalf on the Fort Worth Star-Telegram. Maybe Marci X just never made it to Texas, but somehow enough people saw this Lisa Kudrow/Damon Wayans vehicle to secure it a spot in the Bottom 100.

“Hip-hop meets shop ’til you drop” says the poster, and I wouldn’t be terribly surprised to learn that’s the exact line overrated screenwriter Paul Rudnick (In and Out, The Stepford Wives) used to pitch this plastic satire. Kudrow is Jewish-American Princess Marci Feld, daughter of wealthy businessman Ben Feld (Richard Benjamin, who also directed), owner of a hip-hop record label that has just released the latest controversial album by Dr. S (Wayans). Feld’s empire is threatened when prudish Senator Spinkle (Christine Baranski) gives a speech attacking him for promoting the dangerous messages in such Dr. S hits as “Shoot Ya Teacher.” Feld has a heart attack and Marci is forced to take over the company and try to cajole an apology from Dr. S.

I know what you’re thinking: who better suited to satirize the rap world than Paul Rudnick and Richard Benjamin? With the help of composers Mervyn Warren and Marc Shaiman, they’ve crafted a tone deaf hip-hop pastiche with beats and production techniques that would have been cutting edge had this movie been made in 1991. Don’t take my word for it; here’s what happens when Dr. S challenges Marci to freestyle onstage:

As it turns out, Rudnick and Benjamin aren’t any more adept at spoofing the wealthy Jewish culture you’d expect them to be more familiar with. The script is full of hacky jokes about Prozac, Prada, pilates, Botox and Donald Trump’s hair, and Jane Krakowski has a thankless role as one of Marci’s three satellite JAPs. With its flat television lighting, wokka-wokka music and cast of sitcom actors pitching their performances to the back row of the studio audience, Marci X is a migraine from beginning to end. It’s no wonder Chris Rock rejected it, telling Entertainment Weekly “It's the worst script I've ever gotten... I'd have been happier getting an envelope full of anthrax.” And I’ve seen some of the movies Chris Rock has actually agreed to do, so you know that’s really saying something.

Previously on Unwatchable:

96. Track of the Moon Beast
97. Bolero
98. Kickboxer 4: The Aggressor
99. The Honeymooners
100. Devil Fish

The 12 Greatest Movies Based on TV Shows, Part I

Scott Von Doviak — Thu, 08 May 2008 20:00:00 GMT

Everyone’s talking about all the comic book movies infesting theaters this summer, but there’s another pop culture invasion afoot – from Speed Racer to Sex and the City to Get Smart! and the second X-Files movie, small-screen fare is taking over the multiplex. This is nothing new, of course, but it is a handy excuse for your friendly neighborhood Screengrabbers to look back at the history of TV-to-movie transitions and pluck a few diamonds out of a deep, dark mine.

THE UNTOUCHABLES (1987)

Technically, Brian De Palma’s stylish, iconic film version of The Untouchables isn’t based on the hit TV show from the early 1960s; it’s based on incorruptible federal agent Elliot Ness’ book of the same name. But the TV show and the movie both sprang from the same source material, and that’s good enough for us. Besides, DePalma adapted many of the same narrative tropes as the television show: the morally inflexible Ness, his wise old streetwise mentor, and his diverse band of wisecracking cops aping the stock players in WWII movies. What DePalma did with them, however, is what made the movie great: elevating the entire conflict beyond the simple good guy/bad guy cops and robbers drama of the TV show, he turned it into grand opera, nothing less than an epic, tragic conflict between Al Capone as a smiling Satan and Ness himself as a tortured Jesus. And because it’s sly postmodernist Brian De Palma behind the camera, he couldn’t help winking at the audience from time to time, whether he was blatantly ripping off – er, paying homage to – the Odessa Steps sequence of Battleship Potemkin in the thrilling train station shootout or tipping the hand of his entire approach with Capone ordering a brutal execution as he tearfully watches Pagliacci at the theater. Gone are the cramped sets and gritty feel of the series, replaced by grand, chasm-like buildings and swooping outside shots; gone is the cocky, confident Ness of Robert Stack, set aside by a tortured Kevin Costner in what would be one of the last coherent performances of his career. Capone is a jolly Lucifer, and Frank Nitti (played by the sallow, vampire-faced Billy Drago) is his lizardlike assassin. Adding, on top of the whole thing, a classic, catchy, percussive score by none other than Ennio Morricone, and De Palma – the director so many people love to hate – had finally scored the first major blockbuster hit of his career.

MONTY PYTHON AND THE HOLY GRAIL (1975)

For a movie that’s made so many people laugh for over 30 years, the people who made Monty Python and the Holy Grail didn’t have a very good time. The first big-screen effort from arguably the greatest sketch comedy group of all time was plagued with problems: they were frequently denied access to filming locations they thought they’d secured; Graham Chapman, playing the part of King Arthur, was plagued with psychological and physical problems as a result of his recovery from alcoholism; the entire production was plagued with budgetary problems and probably wouldn’t even have been made if members of Pink Floyd (huge fans of the Monty Python’s Flying Circus TV show) hadn’t have stepped in and pumped money into the film; the troupe was working on an incredibly strict filming deadline and nerves were frayed to the breaking point trying to get the production in on time; and much of the filming was done in locations that left the cast and crew cold, wet, and miserable much of the time, when they weren’t almost dying from falling off of a cliff. And in the end, what did they have to show for it? Nothing more than the purest distillation possible of their absurdist, kitchen-sink comic sensibilities. Decades of abuse at the hands of geeks who didn’t know when to leave well enough alone still haven’t managed to sink Monty Python and the Holy Grail or its hard-earned reputation as one of the funniest movies ever made. And if filming it was fraught with peril, that just means that it had even more in common with the original TV show: Monty Python’s Flying Circus faced censorship battles, ratings problems, drug and alcohol abuse from a cast who were often at each other’s throats, a network that completely failed to understand the show and scheduled it in the most ham-handed way possible, and, of course, a miniscule budget and a ruthless production timeline. So it’s no surprise that Holy Grail so effectively captures the postmodern comic brilliance of Flying Circus; they’d all been there before.

THE SIMPSONS MOVIE (2007)

For all the hype that went into the release of the big-screen version of Our Favorite Family, you’d think something exceptionally earth-shaking was going to happen. But really, what was the big deal? It wasn’t the revival of a beloved but long-lost franchise; The Simpsons is still on the air and is likely to remain so until the apocalypse. It didn’t promise any major changes in continuity, since The Simpsons doesn’t have any. (They did kill off at least one supporting character, but it’s not like the entire future of the series hinged on the actions of Dr. Nick Riviera.) And with the exception of a hilarious “goddamn” from Marge and a brief glimpse at Bart’s hand-drawn doodle, it didn’t even take much advantage of the creative free space of a theatrical release. All it did was deliver, essentially, a triple-length episode of The Simpsons. But that’s pretty much what the show’s fans wanted, and the producers, writers and directors gave them an extremely high-quality triple-length episode for their money. The animation is terrific, and one of the few ways in which the filmmakers do take advantage of the big screen is in a gorgeous color palate and some cinematic storytelling that uses up every inch of the space allotted. The writing is top-notch, with tons of funny lines and despite a bit of a sag near the end, it’s one of the tightest comedies in recent memory; while the show’s latter seasons aren’t as dismal as some embittered fans would have you believe, measured against the product on TV, The Simpsons Movie is a lot funnier, more controlled, and better at what people value in the show. The gimmicky guest stars are (literally) disposed of early on, leaving Albert Brooks – a veteran of the series who’s provided some of its most memorable moments – to nearly steal the show from then on. Sure, it’s just a long episode of the show, but that’s good enough for me.

STAR TREK II: THE WRATH OF KHAN (1982)

The 1979 Star Trek--The Motion Picture was many years' worth of stops and starts in coming, and remains a very expensive project that no one involved with looks back on proudly. But despite its being regarded as a disappointment, it did make enough money that Paramount decided to burn off whatever good will remained among fans of the TV series by making a much less pricey sequel for the summer trade. It was actually the sequel that rejuvenated interest in the property and launched the long-running movie franchise. The writer-director Nicholas Meyer, who had previously demonstrated a flair for playing with other people's characters in his Sherlock Holmes novel and screenplay The Seven-Per-Cent Solution, was brought in late and given a short window in which to prepare a shooting script, and managed to do it by cobbling together the best elements of the many already-discarded attempts by other writers—including the idea of a sequel to the old TV episode "Space Seed" with Ricardo Montalban reprising his role as the regal, megalomaniac villain Khan. He also had the masterstroke of supplying Leonard Nimoy with a gorgeous death scene as Mr. Spock, which was reportedly a key factor in persuading Nimoy to go back on his vow to never put his ears back on after the first movie. The results were greeted with rapturous gratitude by long-time fans and non-Trekkers alike despite attempts to sabotage the release by Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry, whose displeasure with something that someone wanted to do with his baby was almost infallible proof that it must be a step in the right direction.

SOUTH PARK: BIGGER, LONGER & UNCUT (1999)

Most "movies" spun off from still-current, ongoing TV series are just stretched-out TV episodes, sometimes with pricier special effects or guest stars. (The last straw may have been the over-hyped 1998 X-Files movie, which tarted up a subpar script from the series' "conspiracy" with a fireball explosion, a Martin Landau cameo, and the threat of the two leads kissing, then ended with a series-impacting plot twist designed to make those smart enough to have stayed at home feel left out when the fall TV season began.) The South Park movie, a genuine act of pop outrage with its mock-Disney-cartoon-musical score (written by series creators Matt Stone and Trey Parker and composer Marc Shaiman, who later brought Hairspray to Broadway) and its Colorforms-meets-Photoshop images of Saddam Hussein and a weirdly sympathetic Satan getting it on, is the rare example of someone bringing their hot, pre-sold property to the big screen and seeing it as a reason to step up their game. At a time when movies are getting smaller and smaller and moving more and more to TV and computer screens and even cell phones, Parker and Stone felt an old-fashioned obligation to enlarge their vision for the theater version. What's more, their discovery of just how much they could do with their little freak hit informed and improved the subsequent seasons of the TV version, now on its twelfth season and going strong. In fact, it was with the movie that South Park made its real transition from giggly fad to one of the cornerstones of our civilization.

MIAMI VICE (2006)

The '80s TV show co-created by Michael Mann and Anthony Yerkovich was very much a product of its time, so much so that Manhunter, the 1986 movie that Mann made while the show was still on the air, looks a lot more like the movie called Miami Vice that he made twenty years later. The movie doesn't have the high-contrast visual scheme or the pastel threads or the distracting celebrity cameos of the series; it does have the tropical setting and some character names in common with the series, but what it mainly has is the hopeless-romantic atmosphere and the coiled-spring bursts of action that the show reached for in its proudest moments, executed by a gifted director who had had a couple of decades to work on his moves. The movie, which required significant rewriting to satisfy the whims of one of its stars, Jamie Foxx, has been released in a "director's cut" DVD version, and neither it nor the theatrical release can be said to be free of lulls or to consistently make a world of sense. But when it's at its most intoxicating--especially when Gong Li points her sad headlights at the camera as the cinematographer Dion Beebe is adjusting the light on the horizon just so while God, looking over his shoulder, takes notes--it can get you higher than all the coke in Colombia.

- Leonard Pierce, Phil Nugent

READ PART II