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Reviews
Tom and Huck (1995)
A disappointment
Perhaps it was just that the VHS tape I rented was bad, but try as I might, I was unable to settle down and enjoy Tom and Huck. I was constantly trying to lighten the picture so I could make out what was happening in the murky forest scenes, which frequently were shot at night, without the use of newfangled electric lights, apparently. Even the daytime shots seemed too dark. This may be a function of shooting in the woods, which looked like authentic Missouri woods, although I live in Missouri and I have never seen a tarantula. Neither, apparently, had Mark Twain, because he spends quite a bit of time expounding on these novel arachnids in a chapter of "Roughing It" that takes place in the Nevada desert. But I digress.
It seems that the filmmakers sought authentic locations, which meant having to do without sunlight for the entire film, and got authentic costumes without bothering to teach the actors authentic Missouri accents. The film had a grubby, depressing look to it that failed to capture my five-year-old's attention, although the remarkable amount of profanity in this "kids' movie" seemed to pique her interest momentarily, or perhaps secondarily. I think marketing Tom Sawyer to children, particularly the children of today, is an uphill battle without adding in a cute animated sidekick or some other Disney cliché. Twain's book was intended to be a nostalgic look back at childhood for adults, not children. It seems that the same thing happened with this film, which appears to have been written and shot for adults, and then marketed at unuspecting children.
Hooper (1978)
A joyous tour-de-force
My parents ushered the young me into an 8-plex one fine afternoon prophesying an epic -- a cinematic triumph unparalleled since the days of Bergman. Disgruntled at my forebears' refusal to consent to a screening of Jaws 2, I nonetheless acquiesced and slumped into the screening room.
When I emerged a scant two hours later, I was no longer a callow youth. I had become a man.
Screen legend Burt Reynolds offers one of his most insightful, well-rounded performances as Sonny Hooper, an Achilles with a mustache, seemingly foredoomed to the stuntman slag heap by the onset of middle age. Playing the part with the gusto and verve of a man four-fifths his age, Reynolds achieves newfound heights without seeming to crack a script, winking slyly at the merry romp he has conjured. Sally (The Flying Nun) Field (who by some incredible chance happened to be dating Reynolds) plays the groundbreaking role of Hooper's common-law girlfriend, Gwen Doyle (a name so lilting and memorable, I promptly bestowed it upon all six of my goldfish). Field embodies the universal theme of a woman struggling to come to terms with a life she has neither chosen nor can escape. Kneepad-deep in beer cans, forced to wear short shorts, physically lifted and repositioned like an arc light or rubber tree, she personifies the objectification of women by the stuntmen who are themselves objectified by the studio hacks (Robert Klein) who employ them. As the winsome, perky daughter of stunt-osaurus Jocko Doyle (Brian Keith), Field set the standard by which all future stuntman's daughter roles would be be measured.
Central to the success of this story are the providential appearances of such childhood icons as James (Rosco P. Coletrane) Best, Pittsburgh Steeler Terry Bradshaw (utterly convincing as a man who gets hit in the face), and the impeccable Adam (Batman) West, who plays an actor respected enough that a film crew protectively prevents him from jumping over the side of a building. The absence of the sublime Dom DeLuise marks this film's only flaw, forgiveable considering that by this point in his trajectory, DeLuise had priced himself out of the market.
Shining through it all, dazzling in his wit, pathos, and imperfect grandeur, stands the linchpin, Burt Reynolds. Whether baring his bottom for a Xylocaine booster or outwitting the police by driving his pickup backwards, Reynolds inhabits the role so effortlessly, he seems to glide along like Clark Gable atop his Rhett Butler waltzing simulator.
Although this film had an unintentional rite-of-passage effect upon me, I was subsequently disillusioned to learn that Mr. Reynolds was not a stuntman, but an actor. Granted, the greatest actor to grace the silver screen since John Larroquette (who actually came later, but the comparison still stands), but still an actor.
It took years of therapy before I again began to trust.
The Daydreamer (1966)
Charming, and here's why:
"The Daydreamer" is not really an "animated" kiddie film; it's a pretty clever blend of live action and stop-motion puppetry from the people who gave the world "Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer" and "Frosty the Snowman." Inventive and ambitious, it makes use of dozens of sets and numerous characters, all of them created from scratch and painstakingly photographed one frame at a time-- something no one today (except Nick Park) would take the trouble to do.
To label this film as "embarrassingly dated" is arrogant and absurd, unless you're willing to pass the same judgment on "King Kong" or "Jason and the Argonauts." Most films are a product of their time. A few are ahead of their time, and those films set the pace for others to follow. But to condemn something from the '60s for not being "Toy Story" is unfair, just as it is unfair for an adult to condemn a movie intended for children.
Apparently an unfortunate result of computer animation is to render much of the history of filmmaking unwatchable because the special effects don't live up to today's standards. It's like kicking away the ladder that got you onto the roof. Today's effects-laden blockbusters would not have been possible--indeed, the film industry itself would not have survived the lean years when television was making inroads--had filmmakers not been willing to "go ahead and tell the story," plowing through budget and technical limitations, doing the best they could with whatever was at hand. To me, using plastic sheeting to achieve the water effects is ingenious. Obviously they couldn't use REAL water in stop-action animation. I challenge anyone to come up with a better solution using 1966 technology.
Of far more importance than technical effects, however, is the effect a film will have on its viewers. Here "The Daydreamer" succeeds brilliantly. Wholesome fare for the current generation of value-starved children, it is to be applauded for its strong ethical stance on the dangers of selfishness and the importance of obedience and loyalty. Far from our present diet of bland postmodern gruel that can come no closer to a moral principle than "have self-esteem, be tolerant and everybody wins," this film teaches that right is right and wrong is wrong, and that actions have serious and often irreversible consequences.
Lament, if you must, the inclusion of so many songs, but again, this picture is a product of its time. '60s moviegoers still had at least a fading appreciation for music--something modern audiences cannot claim (witness the death of the entire musical film genre)--and any children's feature worth its salt was expected to include a smattering of musical numbers. And while the music may be forgettable, the film itself obviously is not -- I saw it ONCE as a small child 25 years ago, and it has remained with me vividly until I saw it again yesterday.
I look forward to the time when my own daughter is old enough to enjoy it as much as I did.