Category Archives: In Defense Of

This is the third and last piece this week celebrating the works of Richard Donner. Click here and here to view the other two posts.

When I first saw 1992′s Radio Flyer as a young teenager, i had a clear idea of what the film was about. A mother and her two young boys leave home in New Jersey to start a new life in California. Mom (Lorraine Bracco) meets a new man who calls himself The King, and marries him. The boys don’t like The King, and he does bad things to Bobby (Joseph Mazzello). Bobby has nowhere else to turn, so with the help of his big brother Mikey (Elijah Wood), they create a flying machine out of a wagon, and Bobby flies away. He can finally be happy again. Bobby sends postcards to Mike from the countries he had visited. He was saved by his big brother.

Sure, I was a naive 12-year-old, but that’s what I got out of it. I loved it. What kid doesn’t dream of flying away?

Then I saw the film again as an adult many years later and I saw layers I had never seen before. The abuse was more extreme than I imagined. The themes of isolation were more prevelant. Throughout the film, there was a great sense of dread. There were more than a few subtle hints that Bobby didn’t survive in the end.

I’m sure this has happened to everyone. You watch a movie during your childhood and then again later in life. Most often, it is like watching an entirely different movie altogether. What makes Radio Flyer so unique, however, is that my altered perspective did not change my opinion of the film in the slightest bit. My childlike interpretation of the movie still works, as does my mature, adult viewpoint. That’s the secret. That’s what makes Radio Flyer a special film. I love it now as much as I loved it then. There is just no wrong way to view this movie.

Radio Flyer was slaughtered by critics. It tanked in the box office. It’s a blip in the careers of Wood, Mazzello, Bracco, John Heard, Tom Hanks, writer David Mickey Evans and director Richard Donner. It’s a shame because it needs to be seen with an open perspective. A older kid can enjoy it without knowing too much about what really happened to Bobby. And an adult can appreciate the real beauty of the film: the magical bond between two brothers, strengthened during troubling times.

Roger Ebert, a professional critic whose opinion I greatly respect, is very close-minded about this one. He writes, “The movie is a real squirmarama of unasked and unanswered questions. Who is this movie made for?” He mirrored the thoughts of many others in that it is tonally confused. Is it a fantasy for kids? Or is it a drama about child abuse for adults? My answers: Yes and yes. Radio Flyer is a multifaceted film, a rare, thoughtful story that caters to two very different audiences.

There are a few interpretations of the film’s final scenes and, frankly, any of them will work. If you are a young teen, maybe 11 or 12 (the film doesn’t work for kids younger than that), Bobby did fly away. He escaped from the bad man in his life and started anew.

For older teens and adults, it’s clear that the older Mike made up the ending. “History is all in the mind of the teller,” he tells us. Bobby is no longer with us. Did he crash in the flyer, or was he beaten to death by The King? Well, let me ask you: does it matter? The truth is that Bobby tried to run away, he tried to escape, and he just couldn’t. Bobby’s death was inevitable.

This is dark, heavy stuff. It’s all too common in this world. Children are abused and sometimes there’s no one there to help them. The mother in this situation loved her two boys, but she either had no knowledge of what was happening or, more likely, she had no courage or strength to put a stop to it. His brother can only do so much, and it’s clear that as he got older, he filled his mind with some fiction that made Bobby’s life story easier to swallow. Mike wasn’t ready to tell his kids the real truth. He wasn’t ready to face the truth himself.

That’s just my interpretation, and who’s to say it’s right or wrong? There’s a theory floating around stating that Bobby is a figment of Mike’s imagination. There is no Bobby. Mike was the one who got beaten up, built the machine to escape, and eventually became a pilot and learned to fly (which explains why the film opens and closes on an air field). It’s sketchy, but I’ll buy it. There are scenes and lines in the movie that can be interpreted as such.

Evans and Donner leave enough loose ends dangling to allow us to figure it out ourselves. It’s a puzzle, but not necessarily a perplexing one. I’d say it’s more like a comforting puzzle. Radio Flyer shows us just enough to give us the big picture.

And isn’t that something special?

“I can’t see you… but I know you’re there.”

This movie surprised the hell out of me.

Imagine knowing only these nuggets of information prior to viewing: Meg Ryan falls in love with an angel, played by Nicolas Cage. It’s a “Hollywoodized” remake of a German classic (Wings of Desire). And its director, Brad Silberling, had only one film under his belt: Casper.

There’s no way this film can be any good, right?

Well, let’s just say that I love being wrong.

City of Angels (1998) is a pure joy and a wonderful surprise. Silberling had created something very special here: he took a cerebral, whimsical drama from Wim Wenders and gave it a glossy Hollywood makeover without losing the original’s appeal. Audiences did not know how to embrace it. Critics were torn. But me… I fell deeply in love with it. It’s spiritual candy for the mainstream. It’s a beautiful melding of art and commerce.

City of Angels is more than just a romantic drama about an angel falling in love with a human. It’s about an angel falling in love with life. It’s so rare to see a major Hollywood production in this genre as joyously life-affirming as this one. The screenplay, by Dana Stevens, is essentially a love letter to life, a series of poems that lovingly reflect the beauty of feeling, tasting, touching. The actors speak in hushed tones, almost like whispers. It’s like they are questioning themselves as they speak of their feelings. Could this be happening? Could it be possible to feel this way?

Seth: Let’s go somewhere.
Maggie: Where?
Seth: I don’t care.
Maggie: What do you wanna do?
Seth: Anything.

Seth is an angel. He does not know what it’s like to be human. He’s never experienced the pleasures of food or the human touch or the feeling of wind flowing through his hair. As he escorts a deceased man into his new plane of existence, Seth sees Maggie, a doctor trying so desperately to save the deceased man’s life. There’s something in Maggie that intrigues Seth. A fire, a spark, a strong desire to give this poor man his life back. When she fails, she’s resigned, hopeless, beaten. Seth hears her thoughts and wonders what it must feel like to go through all of these emotions. He’s compelled to find out so he does something only few angels do: he asks her.

Seth: What’s that like? What’s it taste like? Describe it like Hemingway.
Maggie: Well, it tastes like a pear. You don’t know what a pear tastes like?
Seth: I don’t know what a pear tastes like to you.
Maggie: Sweet… juicy… soft on your tongue, grainy like… a sugary sand that dissolves in your mouth. How’s that?
Seth: It’s perfect.

In the narrative sense, City of Angels is a romantic film where two beings fall in love. But at its core, the film is about loving life. It’s about appreciating the finer details that we all take for granted. I’m hard-pressed to find a film of a grand scale as this one that simply takes its time to show us what makes life so special. No one knows why we are here or what purpose we serve, but if we look at what we have and what we can achieve as humans, the possibilities are endless.

Dennis Franz plays Nathan, a human who knows one or two things about Seth and where he comes from. That’s because Nathan used to be just like him. When Nathan was an angel, he used to be curious and intrigued by the life humans live. He had a strong desire to feel, to eat, to love as if tomorrow were the last day on earth. So he jumped… and became flesh. Franz is extraordinary here, a beautiful performance that’s unlike anything he’s ever done. Silberling cast him completely against type and it worked like gangbusters. When Nathan is running in the ocean naked without a care in the world, you can’t help but smile at his spirited attitude.

Silberling — who used to direct procedurals like NYPD Blue and LA Law — not only plucked Franz from the tube but also Andre Braugher of Homicide fame. Braugher plays Cassiel, a fellow angel who regularly converses with Seth about the intricacies of the human spirit while sitting on skyscrapers and street signs. I love how City of Angels doesn’t move quickly to advance the narrative. The film pauses every now and then to listen to these two guys share some thoughtful dialogue.

Seth: The little girl asked me if she could be an angel.
Cassiel: They all want wings.
Seth: I never know what to say.
Cassiel: Tell them the truth. Angels aren’t human. We were never human.
Seth: What if I just make her a little pair of wings out of paper?

Most people were really let down by the ending and I can see why. Read no further if you wish to be unspoiled! Like I said earlier, you can view the film as narrative or as a poetic journey about humanity. In the narrative sense, Maggie’s surprising death in the end is heartbreaking because Seth made an extremely difficult journey to be with her for as long as fate will let them. He got a taste of beauty and then beauty was snatched away from him.

But the message is clear. There is no life without death. Seth wanted to experience everything, and he did.

“I would rather have had one breath of her hair, one kiss of her mouth, one touch of her hand, than eternity without it. One.”

Take another look at City of Angels, and this time listen to the words. Look into their eyes. Don’t worry too much about plotting and storytelling. This movie is about feeling. Now, isn’t that refreshing?

“… Only a few people are awake and live in a state of constant, total amazement.”

I have what I like to call “swiss cheese” memory. Some things I remember, some things I don’t. Seeing Joe Versus The Volcano (1990) for the first time is what I consider a turning point in my young life. It was an event I remember vividly.

It was Friday night and spring was in the air. I was 13 and my mom had dropped me off to the movies with a group of friends. It was opening night and the theater was packed. It was so crowded, in fact, we were forced to sit in the second row. From the moment the movie started, I was transfixed. Mesmerized. My friends were growing restless and goofing off, throwing popcorn, gabbing. I was just lost in the movie.

When it ended, they all gave their unanimous two word review: It sucked. When I spoke up, I said, “I, umm, actually liked it.” They all looked at me, their faces scrunched up. “Really?”

And so it began. My tastes were venturing away from the mainstream and I began liking movies that had a bit of an edge to it, movies that weren’t exactly run of the mill. Maybe that was the night I became a cinephile. (Needless to say, I don’t think I hung out with this group much longer).

I don’t remember exactly what it was I loved about Joe Versus The Volcano when I was 13 years old, but I rewatched it again in high school, college and the years that followed, eventually wearing out the VHS. I bought the DVD when that became available and if I had a blu-ray player today, I’d probably own a copy of this one. Each viewing gave me something more to appreciate about it. In fact, it was Roger Ebert who said, “Every great movie should seem like new every time you see it.” (He gave this movie 3.5 stars so he could’ve been talking about this one.)

Joe Versus The Volcano is about a man who is stuck. Joe has a dead end job that drains the life out of him day after day, or better yet, the “zombie lights sucks the juice out of my eyeballs!” He practically sleepwalks to work every single damn day. He simply has no purpose.

One day, at a visit with his doctor, Joe discovers that he has a “brain cloud” and only a few months to live. When he gets the opportunity to finally do something with his life, to make life really matter, he grabs the chance.

“You have some time left, Mr. Banks. You have some life left. My advice to you is this: live it well.”

So, he quits his job (in a hilariously dramatic fashion) and begins his transformative journey to – what else? – save the Waponi-Wu island from sinking by making the ultimate sacrifice: jump in the Big Woo, their volcano.

What a long, life-affirming journey it is for Joe Banks.

The spiritual symbolism in the film gives the film much surprising depth. You’ve got your basic elements of heaven and hell, life and death. Water and fire make major appearances here, typically representing the birth and death of Joe Banks. See, Joe Versus the Volcano is not really a movie about a man who quits his job and jumps in a volcano. It’s about a man who searches for the meaning of life. The characters and obstacles he comes across on his journey represent good and evil, and the path of righteousness is never a straight line. The crooked lightning symbol that appears several times in the film is reflective of the path that which Joe begins his soul-repairing adventure.

First, Joe meets Marshall (a sublime Ossie Davis), a limo driver who makes sure Joe is well-prepared. Marshall is essentially a guardian angel, feeding Joe knowledge and tools that will be necessary for a successful trip. Samuel Graynamore (Lloyd Bridges), the devil incarnate who orchestrated the whole adventure in an effort to profit from Joe’s depression, sends him off to Waponi-Wu island, enlisting his nefarious daughter Angelica (Meg Ryan) to ensure Joe’s path is not steered off-course. Joe resists the temptations of Angelica and instead falls for her sister Patricia (also Ryan), who is troubled by her own deal she made with her father. Together, Joe and Patricia break free of their selfish natures and realize that life is about caring for others and learning to appreciate what you’ve been given. It’s also about confronting your fears and taking risks; don’t let life idly pass you by. After meeting the Waponis (led by Abe Vigoda), who aren’t willing sacrifice themselves for the island and are too absorbed by consumerism, the couple has a epiphany. “Nobody knows, Joe. But we’ll see. We’ll take this jump, and we’ll see. That’s life, right?”

So together, in the end, they resist the devil’s temptations, commit the ultimate act of selflessness, face their fears, and leap into the Big Woo. Since they have found the true meaning of life, the fire (death) spits them out and hurls them into the ocean (birth). We see them off beginning their life anew with a refreshed view of the world.

–

“I know he can get the job, but can he do the job? I’m not arguing with you!”

No buts about it, this movie tanked. It was a blip in the long, storied career of Tom Hanks, and stunted the rise of Meg Ryan’s stardom. I don’t think people got it. Perhaps the audience couldn’t get past the scenario of a man who travels to an island of Waponis and jumps into a volcano. It sounds like it should be funny, but I wouldn’t classify Joe Versus the Volcano as a straightforward comedy. Writer-director John Patrick Shanley does not really play this movie for laughs, but rather, for the heart. This is Shanley’s first effort as a director (his second is the terrific Doubt, from ’08), but Shanley is most notably a very successful playwright. And the man definitely has a way with words. Some of the dialogue from this movie really digs deep.

And as I outlined above, Joe Versus the Volcano is about something. The film takes chances. It doesn’t get lazy. Every scene is loaded with all kinds of symbolism — some heavy-handed, some subtle. For instance, the books that Joe takes with him as he leave his job pretty much outline the themes of his journey: Robinson Crusoe (self-discovery), Romeo and Juliet (true love) and Homer’s Odyssey (heroism). As he left his job, Joe was ready to tackle these elements. Shanley really knew how to convey his themes into the movie. But it only worked for those who looked for them.

Shanley also assembles a remarkable cast, including Dan Hedaya as Joe’s boss (“You watch it, mister! There’s a woman in here!”), Robert Stack as the doctor who was paid off to diagnose him with a ridiculous disease (Patricia: “You were diagnosed with a brain cloud, and you didn’t bother to ask for a second opinion?”), and Meg Ryan in not one but three roles. She does solid work here, though I wouldn’t say her roles here are among her best. Her chemistry with Hanks, though, is sorely missed this day and age. Like Douglas and Turner, I wish they would make more movies together.

And Tom Hanks sells this movie. He made this after Big but it would be 3 years before he wins his first Oscar. I think Joe Banks was his last truly “offbeat” character before he turned serious (though his role in The Ladykillers was an inspired choice, it just didn’t gel). Funny thing is, though, I think Hanks would be just as good as Joe Banks today, as he was 21 years ago. Maybe even better.

The bottom line is this: Joe Versus the Volcano awakens the soul. It’s a feel good movie in every sense of the term. The scene with Joe on the raft staring up at the moon, marveling at the beauty of it, is about as life-affirming as anything I’ve seen on a movie screen. “God, thank you for my life,” he exclaims.

And John Patrick Shanley, thank you for Joe Versus the Volcano.

“May you live to be a thousand years old, sir.”