Field of Dreams (1980s)

Mike says when suggesting this film for the list, I was afraid that this movie was too recent to really justify the list. Watching it again, it's impressive how timeless the movie really is. While Ray's background is deeply rooted in the sixties and the time period he grew up in, the film doesn't have any imagery or content that truly dates it as an eighties movie.

As such, I was rather relieved when I found the movie was released in '89 placing it well withing the range of my childhood (I was ten). Sports were never very important to me, and while my dad loved baseball and was a gymnast in high school, it was never really a big deal in our house ever. Sure, me and Dad went through the obligatory father/son baseball motifs: playing catch in the yard, going to a Dodger's game, and playing tee-ball at age six.

But, being that the Star Trek and Star Wars themes were commonly heard in my home growing up, it should have been expected that none of us would ever be great athletes. A consequence of that was that I was never really a fan of sports films either.

But this one, somehow, was different. We watched it soon after it first hit video and quickly fell in love with it. As a kid, I think I loved the simple magic used in the film. It was so subtle, that it could almost be missed if one weren't paying attention. But I really loved it.

Watching it now, it's still one of my favorite films of all time, and surprisingly, for the same reasons. The things I pick up on now that I'm older are just a bonus. My favorite films have always been the ones with a small bit of magic weaved into life. The Green Mile, Field of Dreams, Stranger than Fiction, and The Prestige are all films that I love that have a small touch of magic to an otherwise normal drama.

The writing, casting, and direction of the movie are all stellar. The score is especially charming. The movie could have easily become goofy or corny, but these moments are effortlessly avoided by the simple rules of the world the story takes place in. By keeping the players on the field, there exists a boundary between reality and fantasy. It keeps the story where it belongs, instead of getting lost on tangents and set-ups for crotch jokes.

The final theme of the film has always been something that I understood, but my understanding has deepened with age. While I certainly didn't always understand or agree with the father I grew up with, I feel that we had enough in common that we did have a great bond that still exists. A few years ago I met my biological father, which was a interesting experience to say the least. His being a sports fan has been a bit of an obstacle. But finding common ground is really what the film is about and that has been the key to forging a relationship.

I'm amazed at how this film doesn't seem to age for me. The look and feel of the film are truly timeless, and the story is such that the message doesn't get old. With so many remakes these days, I truly hope that this one never gets remade. Because, to put it simply, it doesn't need to be. It's perfect as it is.

Kate says this is a wonderful movie! It is inexpressibly touching. It is also the perfect show-case for Kevin Costner's talent. Robin Hood--eh, not so much. Ray in Field of Dreams--perfection.

What makes the movie really work is how normal and everyday workable the family is, right from the beginning. This is definitely a story touched by magic rather than a story about magic. The rules of the field are lightly impressed on the viewer. But overall, all the "magic" is so ordinary, so much a part of everyday life, you never notice that you have made that leap of faith. Of course Shoeless Joe shows up. Of course Terence Mann heard the message too. Of course Ray can meet Doc Graham who has died. Of course.

Speaking of Terence Mann, the supporting roles in this movie are lovingly done from the magnificent James Earl Jones to the break-your-heart Burt Lancaster to the supremely perfect Ray Liotta. Could any one else play Shoeless Joe? With that mixture of childlike enjoyment and wise insight? I can't imagine.

I was impressed that the movie aged with me--I mean that in a good way (about both of us, I guess). When I was younger, I understood the theme of Ray and his father, but I saw the movie much the way Terence describes it: "penance." Ray meeting his father was a pay-off for all that came before.

But now I see the entire movie as an effort by Ray to get to know his father. During the entire movie, he is exploring his father's world, his father's age group, his father's dreams. I comprehend, as I didn't when younger, that urge to come to terms with one's past as well as one's current circumstances. That desire is as much a dream--sometimes wholly fulfilled, sometimes partially fulfilled--as the dream of baseball,

In many ways Field of Dreams is Sandlot for adults. Sandlot captures the dream and nostalgia of one's childhood. Field of Dreams captures the effort to recapture that dream or at least to understand it in the context of grown-up responsibilities. Which makes me realize that it is the perfect movie to end our list of "Movies We Grew Up With"! (Well, from my point of view.)

HAPPY HOLIDAYS! MERRY CHRISTMAS!! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

The Neverending Story (1984)

Kate says it's confession time! I saw this movie when I was a young teen and thought it very boring. (I also thought the movie was much longer than it actually is.) However, the young boy I saw it with was enraptured. I wanted to see the movie again, mostly to see how much of my reaction was teen-angst and how much of it was, well, the movie.

Here's my most recent experience:

The opening is classic with a clearly defined problem (considering the movies on this particular list, all I can say for their writers is "Thank goodness for bullies.").

The "book" story itself is radically less impressive. A few Muppet-like creatures go a very long way, and I got my surfeit with Labyrinth.

But my reaction to the Muppet-like creatures did help pinpoint my problem with the movie when I was a teen (and, unfortunately, now). I'm just not that interested in non-human antagonists (the Muppets being a notable exception since they are so very funny, humanoid, and play opposite humans).

I've also never been all that interested in the adventures of children. Even as a kid. Keep in mind, at age 6, I was smitten with 26-year-old Mark Hamill playing Luke. (Granted, he looks about 17 in Star Wars IV, but at least he wasn't some cutesy, mop-haired kiddie bragging about his stupid robots.) After all, the Pevensie kids (Chronicles of Narnia, my standard) act like adults (thank goodness the movies increased their ages!).

Plus screaming children make me want to slap them. Atreyu screams a lot. (So do mop-haired kiddies--see above.) Bastian, the reader of the "book," is far more interesting. The ending with him and the empress, she of the adorably quirky smile, is quite memorable.

The strength of Bastian's arc has made me wonder if the extraordinarily bad dialog and acting in the "book" is on purpose--that the film is supposed to be a story as told, understood, and experienced by the young boy.

This possibility does bring up the theme of the movie, which is rather cool: stories--"mere words," as Jose Chung would say--are enough to carry us through all the extremities of emotion and experience. I am currently reading a 2-book series about time traveling in World War II. Each book is about 500 pages. I've measured out my reading simply because I know I can't finish the books in 1-2 sittings (I do have to work!). This means that for over a week now, I've been living in this author's world. "Escapist" is the last word on my mind. Escape? I can't escape from the freaking books!

C.S. Lewis once wrote, "But in reading great literature I become a thousand men and yet remain myself . . . Here, as in worship, in love, in moral action and in knowing, I transcend myself; and am never more myself than when I do." The power of fiction is a magnificent power indeed!

And I can see how this movie--which floods us with images and tests and trials and emotions--could captivate viewers while proving the power of being caught up in story.

It just doesn't work so much for me.

Mike says I'm not entirely sure when I first saw this movie. All I really know is that for as long as I can remember, this was one of the family's favorite movies. The actor who played Bastian was also a staple from my childhood...he was in at least half a dozen movies we re-watched often.

As a kid, I think I enjoyed the movie because it was full of magic and adventure. I also loved Bastian's story. I've always loved to read, and as a kid, this was the one movie that really seemed to capture that feeling of being lost in a story, to the extent to where you almost feel a part of it.

Watching it now, the movie doesn't really feel old or dated. Instead, the magic has worn off a bit. While I was enthralled with the landscape and the scope of the story and quest as a kid, watching it now as a cynical jaded adult makes me question the basic premise in a rather silly way. "They want him to go on a quest with no idea of what to do?" "Bastian can hide in the school attic with no one noticing? really?" And so on.

But the film does explore a really cool idea. That there exists a place where all things of the imagination live is a very cool idea, and that books are our link to that world is something I can totally get behind. The film itself is also fairly well-made, and the scope of it is actually quite impressive. A giant turtle that doesn't look fake? A full size dragon puppet? WOW! My favorite touch is the murals showing Atreyu's quest.

Overall, I think the film is a great bit of magic for kids and families. And I own it for that very reason. But watching it alone as an adult leaves me a little bored and disappointed. But I don't think it's the film. This time, it's probably just the viewer. But I am curious to see what my sons think of it.

Star Wars (1977)

Mike says Star Wars has long been a part of my life (the picture is my 4th birthday party; I'm opening a Slave 1 toy, and I had an R2-D2 cake!), and, aside from the teasing that comes with growing up a geek, I've always been glad for it.

A game I like to play with people is to ask them "What image first comes to mind when I say this movie title?" The most illuminating, perhaps, is when I say "Star Wars." For me, the first image that comes to mind, and always will come to mind, I think, is Luke and Vader crossing green and red sabres in the throne room. Being born in '79, Jedi was the first of the series I was old enough to really enjoy. For others, their image may be Luke shooting the Death Star, or Han gutting the tauntaun. What's so revealing about this question is basically discovering which Star Wars is YOUR Star Wars. In other words, what era are you from?

The next image that comes to mind is always Wicket. Not just because of Return of the Jedi but also because I remember sitting eagerly in front of the TV with my parents for the Ewok Adventure movies to start. So, unfortunately, I grew to love Star Wars long after it had traded great film-making for insane money-making. Yeah, I agree, not the strongest foundation for fanhood, but I made do. The Star Wars films come in and out of my memories of my childhood. They were always there, and I loved them. I remember buying the special editions in high school and seeing one of them in the theater. It was AWESOME!

And now, well, I'm really glad we watched the original theatrical release of Star Wars.

In college, I watched it in a film class as an example of the power of editing, and it truly is a great example! I've also seen a lot of documentaries on the making of the movies and that gave me even more appreciation for just how much Lucas owes the editor of the first film. Star Wars was originally shot almost as a documentary. There are countless horror stories about the first cut!

But the editor (whose name escapes me) came in and completely re-hauled the film, even creating some of the film's most memorable moments in the cutting room, such as the climatic attack on the Death Star while the Death Star is attacking the rebel base, and the Tuskan shaking his staff above Luke (achieved by rolling the film forward and back a couple times and looping the audio!).

For me, the original film will always pale next to Empire Strikes Back. It's sad but true. People were shocked when the prequels came out and, well, sucked. With flat acting and lame plots, the prequels are just worth forgetting. But when you go back to Star Wars, you see the warning signs there. It truly is the same director and writer of the prequels . . . Han's flat and encyclopedic explanation of light speed during a tense moment more than proves this.

What saves the film, and keeps it worth loving and watching to this day is the simplicity of both the plot and the effects. The effects aren't that dated and still are very impressive. The plot and story are phenomenal, but again, I'm more likely to credit the editor than the screen writer (sorry, George). The speed and pace of the film really compensate for a lot.

While I do think the performances pale a bit to the later two films, I'm more likely to blame the director than the actors. Each of them became iconic in their roles, and they really sell it in the first film despite some awkward lines. In the end, the movie really is an amazing feat of film making and is just plain fun to watch.

One of the great things about this film is that it's the perfect example of how setting and plot don't have to be bound to one another. While this is certainly a sci-fi setting, the story is straight swords-and-sorcery fantasy. From being given the sword of his father to facing the black knight, Luke is the hero in training who is taught the magical arts by the old wizard. And it's brilliant.

I've always been hesitant to get into any sort of argument deciding the better series between Star Wars and Star Trek because for me, they're not really comparable. Star Trek will always and forever be science first, and fiction second. The entire plot of Star Trek revolves around Man and his interaction with technology. Most Trek stories would be hard pressed to work in any other setting.

Star Wars, on the other hand, can be easily moved from one setting to another with almost no alteration to the plot. There's an artist, Siloff (pics are from his page; please check it out!), whose web page I love to visit. He's a toy hobbyist, and has created toys of Star Wars in settings from Steam Punk to WWII. And It Works! In the end, the story is so strong that the setting and visuals can be divorced completely from the story and be affected only moderately.

I hate to admit it, but George deserves some credit. He fed countless examples of pop culture into his brain and churned out a something truly special, something that honored what came before while being shaped into something bold and new. While I've been a bit disillusioned with Star Wars in the last few years, I still love the original films, and I always will. I suppose that I owe Lucas a little gratitude for that.

Kate says it is hard to imagine that either Mike or I will say anything terribly negative in our reviews of this specific movie, so I decided to begin my review with a little personal history.

I saw Star Wars: A New Hope when it came out in 1977. My family went to see it first. Once it was approved as kid-acceptable, we all went to see it again. This is back in the day when people WENT to movie theaters (this is slightly before VHS and definitely before DVD; yup, I can hear my joints creaking). The movie--this was not even the opening night--was sold out.

Of course, this scarred me for life. Ever since then, I have insisted on getting to theaters 45 minutes or more before a movie starts. This has, naturally, caused much confusion amongst my friends ("Why are we going to see The King's Speech more than an hour early a month after its release?").

But once I saw Star Wars IV, I was hooked. I was Luke one Halloween; the next Halloween, I was Princess Leia. One Christmas, I asked for a light-saber (you can see it in the picture; I was disappointed that it wasn't real!); the next, for a Princess Leia doll. A few years later, I read Lloyd Alexander's Prydain Series because the edition I saw had a Luke-looking person on the cover.

I went to see Empire Strikes Back with my sister Ann and spent the entire movie perched on the edge of my seat. I have never been so scared! Or enjoyed myself so much.

And then Return of the Jedi happened and the Ewoks, and I was a teen (War Games came out in 1983; behold, the teenager girl's brain), and for me, the magic faded. Mike with his Boba Fett action figure and Plinkett have brought much of that magic back. I can now re-appreciate what an amazing universe Lucas ushered the world into, even if he proved an unreliable guide.

Watching 1977 Star Wars IV confirms (almost) everything Plinkett argues in his reviews. In this original, fresh film, Luke isn't the secret son-of-a-Dark-Lord; Leia isn't his sister; R2D2 and C3PO weren't built especially for the hero. The story is truly one of extraordinary things happening to an ordinary person rather than some soap opera tale of dysfunctional rich people.

And despite the stilted dialog from the extras, the movie has a strong professional tone. The main actors are believable, taking their characters and interactions seriously. First, well, Alec Guinness: need I say more. Harrison Ford is dead-on as sardonic rogue. Anthony Daniels is hilarious. Peter Cushing is coldly reptilian. Carrie Fisher is sweetly regal and regally smart-mouthed. Even Mark Hamill is plausible. He doesn't have to be as subtle as the others since the whole point of the movie is his youthful naivety.

Oh, and the Leia-Han Solo sexual tension is already there.

The camera work is also professional. The scenes on Tatooine are downright majestic and so uncluttered! Especially compared to Star Wars I, II, and III! Really, Lucas shouldn't be let out unchaperoned. Not to mention, the cutting on Star Wars (1977) is so clean, it takes your breath away. The movie really moves, and the problems linking the scenes are clearly defined. Leia to R2D2 to Luke to Obi-Wan . . . Plus, the background explanations don't get in the way of the story. It's basically the Roman Empire versus the Gauls. Rather than a cliché, I prefer to think of this background as classic. After all, with so much human history to draw from, why reinvent the wheel?

Despite the cliché/classic motifs, the bad guys are refreshingly low-key. There's none of that so-evil-one-can-hardly-stand-it stuff. No twirling mustaches. No hideous laughter. I don't mean they aren't bad. Blowing up billions of people on a planet is BAD! But they aren't noticeably bad. They are efficient, tunnel-visioned, and coldly rational; Vader--in his insistence on the Force and on the political value of Leia's life--comes off as both more archaic and more human, in a totally sociopathic way, than the generals.

Likewise, the rebellion isn't some chest-beating exercise. It is smart warriors trying to think through a military problem (more American than French Revolution).

Yeah, the cackling emperor in Return of the Jedi really ruined things for me, and I'm afraid I think Lucas's downward spiral started there. Empire Strikes Back has its problems, but it is a still a tight story with decent pay-offs. Non-military Ewoks and over-the-top evil makes Return rather wearisome--though I would agree with reviewers that the final confrontation between Luke and his father is powerful (and created some awesome moments in Toy Story 2).

Leaving I, II, III, V, and VI alone, although I've always loved Star Wars IV in a nostalgic way, rewatching it made me appreciate how much it is worth loving for itself. This is a truly great film!

The Karate Kid (1984)

Kate says out of all the movies on this list, The Karate Kid (and Star Wars) are the two where I actually pretended to be the main characters in my childhood role-playing games. That's right! I wanted to be a Jedi and do the crane technique (I didn't want to actually take karate; I just wanted to do the crane technique; I can remember standing in our family playroom, practicing.)

That being said, I remembered almost nothing about the movie except the crane technique. Things came back to me as I watched, such as the shower costume and Daniel sanding the floor, but mostly, the whole movie was a big, fresh surprise.

Speaking of which, I was bemused by how good Ralph Macchio is in the movie. He was a HUGE success at the time, especially as a "teen" heart-throb, and I admit I'd unfairly filed him in the "bad child actors" category of my brain.

But he actually makes the role work. And he's appealing. Not his looks (I outgrew my "pretty boy" phase fairly early anyway; sorry, Leonardo!) but his husky voice and deadpan jokes. I didn't remember the movie being so funny! I got an especially big kick out of the mom with her broken-down station wagon.

Setting aside all the 80's cliches, the plot is quite coherent. It is your classic sports movie, but it has more meat to it than many sports flicks. New kid in town + new girlfriend + new father figure + sports tournament makes for a solid 2 hours. And the girl-boyfriend relationship is refreshingly normal in its progression. (I like how Daniel is a normal, imperfect kid with a bit of charm and a lot of fundamental kindness--though now and again, his 23-year-old mature self shows though; few teenage boys are quite so quick on their feet when it comes to verbal displays of affection) .

So I rather enjoyed seeing this movie "new".

And, boy, don't we all wish we had a Pat Morita in our lives?

Mike says the crane technique may have been the one thing every kid in the 80's had in common. As a kid, I loved this movie! but I'm not sure I entirely understood it. I think I've beat the whole "Wow, this movie is so full of 80's cliche's!" horse just about to death so far on this list, so instead we'll just talk about the film itself.

What I appreciate about this movie the most is that it respects the viewer enough to take its time with the set-up, and it really works to make the premise believable. For instance, Miyagi befriends Daniel long before the whole karate training happens, and already cares for the boy, which is far different from what I remembered as a kid: Miyagi jumping into the fray and saving Daniel right away.

I also like that Miyagi isn't starting from scratch with Daniel. He's a kid with SOME background in Karate already, and he's established as a competent (perhaps even talented) athlete. While we all seem to remember the training and the fights from the film, the tiny moments sometimes get lost: Miyagi drinking and thinking of his family, Daniel running in the shower costume, Miyagi throwing down the challenge for the tournament.

The film also has a strong moral of the importance of the Teacher, and what is Taught. A good, wise teacher will produce good students; evil teachers, well, obviously, will produce bad students.
 
(My Karate Kid themed birthday.)

As a Behavioral Therapist, I'm constantly looking for ways to teach my kids in natural and practical ways. As such, I really have an appreciation of Miyagi's methods (and a sneaking admiration of how they benefit himself as well as Daniel). The cool thing is there is actual logic behind his methods. By having Daniel go through repetitive motions, he's honing Daniel's reflexes and muscle memory. Very cool stuff!

The film's plot and script are solid. It's a solid film, and no wonder it was such a hit. I think perhaps the most surprising thing is how well the recent remake with Jackie Chan really captures the spirit of the original. But, I won't begrudge anyone for preferring the original. Now, excuse me, I need to go exercise to an 80's rock ballad.

Heaven Can Wait (1978)

Mike says this was my first experience with this movie, and I was surprised upon watching it that I really HAD never seen it, heard of it, seen clips of it, Nothing! The movie was a complete surprise, from beginning to end. Which is rare for a geek with a computer in today's world.

Other than being a bit dated, this is a very cute movie. I think what surprised me the most about it was the humor: subtle, quick and clever.

I also really enjoyed Mr. Jordan. As a God stand-in, he is completely believable. The utter disbelief of the guide is also quite funny.

The film is full of cliches and classic sports/back-from-the-dead motifs, But here it's forgivable, because I think it may have been the source instead of another copy. However, I can still picture The Rock starring in a remake of this film a little TOO easily.

I will admit a little bit of confusion at the end. While I agree that letting Joe keep his memories would have been bad, I can't seem to come up with an alternative that would help the ending make sense to me. If Joe can't remember the struggle he went through, then what was the point? By erasing Joe's memories and personality (evidenced by his no longer playing the sax), doesn't this equate to killing the man that existed before? And if Joe no longer exists, why turn Joe into Jarrett, when they could have just taken Joe, kept Jarrett alive, and had the same outcome?

And, if Joe doesn't remember his role as the Millionaire, then what was the point of going through it?

I'm afraid that while a very cute a fun movie, it left me scratching my head as to what the exact moral was. I guess the loss of the sax could represent maturity... but I think it's a bit of a stretch.

I think I ended the movie feeling like Joe's coach friend... our Joe is gone. How could he have defeated death twice to only now be erased?

I did like the small detail, though, that we didn't see the "real" face of any of Joe's bodies until he was in them!


Kate says I LOVE this movie. When I was young, I loved the humor. Now that I'm older, I love the sweet melancholy plus the humor.

The movie has everything--as the grandfather says in Princess Bride, "Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles . . ."

Well, okay, maybe no literal giants or monsters. Or fencing.

But it does have a murder mystery!

More than the plot, however, I love the characters from the fundamentally kind Joe Pendleton to the gently authoritative James Mason. This is one of those movies where I notice and remember the little things: Joe learning all the servants' names. Mrs. Farnsworth getting startled by Joe at dinner. The tuna speech at the board meeting. The conversations in the closet. The discussions over cocoa. The escort's flabbergasted reaction to Joe's desire to stay in Mr. Farnsworth's body. Mr. Jordan saying, "Joe" and holding out his hands.

Between James Mason and James Earl Jones as "God," I have to say . . . it's a tie.

And of course, Charles Grodin in his deadpan, laconic, ironic way is completely hilarious. I love the line (about nuclear power plants destroying California), "I think you would have to define 'destroy.'"

To return to the plot, I guess I must have loved cohesive plots even as a kid because one thing that has always struck me about this movie (more so as I grow older and become increasingly exposed to Hollywood's idea of "good") is how much the movie doesn't stray off course. Now-a-days, Joe would make it to the Superbowl AND save the company from evil entrepreneurs. But saving the company isn't the point. Joe does what he can, but he isn't really a businessman. He has a distinct personality, being something of a loner, a health nut, a romantic, and a guy with a simple, all-consuming dream. (I apologize for describing being a quarter-back for the Rams as simple. I just mean, Joe wants one thing in life--two after he meets Betty.)

The fascinating thing here is that his new body--Jarrett--is subtly different. The differences are lightly touched on, but it is implied that Jarrett was slightly more sophisticated and urban as well as a tad more social than Joe. But it is also implied that the two men's personalities are close enough that changes in Jarrett's character will be attributed to maturity (and his new girlfriend).

Lastly, I love the sweet melancholy that threads through the movie. Everything that James Mason says in that deep, gentle voice can be describe this way. However, one of my favorite sweet lines is Joe's to Max: "They don't have a football team in heaven, Max, so God couldn't make me first string." And the line "It's alright. There's nothing to be afraid of," for all its cliched simplicity, is used mostly effectively.

I never get tired of this movie despite the dated feel. A true classic in my mind!

Labyrinth (1986)

Kate says what about that 80's fantasy rock music! Who started that? Andrew Lloyd Weber? (There is a Cats' poster in Sarah's bedroom.)

This is a delightful movie. It is the quintessential quest narrative--Alice in Wonderful only, surprisingly, less disturbing. The problem is presented almost immediately (unlike, as Mike points out, the problem in the slow-moving E.T.). The teenage heroine crosses the threshold into the fairy king's world (I know Jareth is technically the King of the Goblins, but he meets all the requirements for the fairy king, being random, untamed, and having wild hair--see Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell). Sarah's complaints, which start the quest, are eye-rollingly extreme and totally normal for her age.

After crossing the threshold, Sarah proceeds to collect followers/mentors and undergo trials. And through it all she is clever and resourceful and even amusing (I remembered the line "C'mon feet!" from my teen years).

And threaded through it all is the mysterious, handsome, extraordinarily British, and downright amusing Jareth. ("Well," he says with irritation to his goblin companions: "Laugh!") I love his Regency English clothes which are surprisingly not as dated as one would think since although we've left the punk 80's behind, Regency England is totally here to stay.

Plus he has many of the film's best lines. This exchange between him and Sarah appears to be a precursor to Princess Bride:

Sarah: That's not fair.
Jareth: You say that so often. I wonder what your basis of comparison is.

Inigo from The Princess Bride: I do not think that word means what you think it means.

Back to the quest motif, there is a final confrontation, and the heroine returns a changed person. The message (what the heroine has learned) is a little heavy-handed but clever and effective since it is mostly visual.

The movie is just gosh-darn-cute. I love Hoggle spraying the flower fairies, the "False Alarms," Sir Didymus (who reminds me of Reepicheep). I love the classic fantasy motifs: animal helpers; fairy food that causes forgetfulness/sleep; riddles; things that are bigger inside than they look outside . . .

The crew seems to have really cared about giving the movie visual and auditory ambiance. There's one arial shot where we see Hobble and Sarah in the labyrinth. As they pass a hedge, a funny-looking knight gallops past. They never meet up with the knight. He was just thrown in for fun. That is very cool.

Interesting enough, out of all the movies we've watched for this list so far, Labyrinth is one of the most likely to be reviewed/mentioned by one of my wasn't-born-at-the-time Freshmen students when I do literary review essays. (It is usually brought up by young women.) Step aside Edward. David Bowie so got there first.

Mike says "Smack that Baby, make him pee!"

I LOVED this film as a kid. And as a teenager. And as a young adult in college. And I realize, watching it now, that I STILL love it. It's wonderfully wacky, slightly irreverent, and unrelentingly imaginative. But, upon watching it and seeing some of the downright creepy and disturbing imagery featured in some scenes, I wonder how in the world I wasn't scared out of my mind!

The movie begins quickly with little set up and explanation, but enough to get the point across. Within fifteen minutes, Sarah is running through the labyrinth! The funny thing is just how coherent all of this is, despite no introduction or background for Jareth (Bowie's character) or on his relationship with Sarah.

The film has the pacing, structure and randomness of a dream (which the film may or may not be!), but without too much of that meta-physical stream of consciousness art film stuff, and it still manages to be very easy to follow. The world, the villain, even the plot is so easy to accept, despite not much explanation for any of it, that it almost defies logic.

Part of the magic has to be the actors themselves. By creating such a feeling of familiarity with the world, and each other, they implied a larger back story that made everything work. The film really does function like the second film in a franchise, yet everything is still so clear... well, except for the trippy ballroom scene; what the hell was THAT about!?!?!

As a kid, and even now, I find something incredibly refreshing and even a little scandalous about the subtle naughtiness of the film (which, upon educated reflection, reveals the British nature of the production). The occasional rude remarks, potty jokes, and the absurdly serious comical characters (all trademarks of British humor) are all just a little rare in the fantasy genre, especially then! Not only does the film seem to fit in with the like of The Princess Bride, but it might also compare currently to Shrek.

Labyrinth is a wonderfully odd and fun film that seems to grow with its audience. Cute and fun companions of childhood become slightly terrifying symbols in adulthood. Bowie, years from the height of his popularity, still sells a convincingly deep and evocative villain (extraordinary because of the sheer lack of any real character development in the script).

Despite all this, one has to wonder just how many nightmares that toddler had from hanging out in a room of scary goblin puppets for hours on end repeatedly over the course of several days.

E.T. (1982)

Mike says Oy. Where to start? I have to say, upon reflection, E.T: The Extra Terrestrial may in fact be the stupidest name Spielberg could have picked for this movie. This is like making a comic book film with a character named "Super-hero" and then calling it Super Hero: The super-powered heroic human. Is this dumb and overstated? Yes, yes, it is. As is title of the film.

Anyway, as a kid, I watched this film countless times, I'm not sure why. And even then, I found it, well, boring. Watching it now, the pace of the film certainly sets it apart from modern day fare. Rather than filled with comedic crotch punches, explosions, and menacing, idiotic bad guys, the film is thought out, heartfelt, and takes its time to tell the story it wants to tell.

That said, it's an incredibly preachy story, and so full of cliches and stereotypes that even as a kid I probably could have told you exactly what would happen next.

Aside from all this, it's easy to see why the film has earned its classic status. Between the children's performances, the rather amazing performance of the puppet itself, and John Williams' stellar (though familiar) score, it really is a remarkable film.

I should mention that the version I watched was the re-release, with added scenes and effects. While I wasn't opposed to the updated versions of the Star Wars movies (at least, at first, until George KEPT DOING IT), this is the first film that really helped me understand how, well, offensive updating and tinkering can be. The film no longer works as a whole because it doesn't have a uniform look: the swap between puppet and cgi is severe, and the extra scenes really did belong on the cutting room floor where they were.

Oh, and can I say they pushed the clueless Mom too far? Cause they did.

Honestly, I'm a little perplexed by just how harsh I'm coming down on the film. It's a classic, and it really does deserve to be. But watching it again as an adult is really a revelatory process, one which shows the imperfections of something considered by many to be flawless. This is a film generally considered to be the best Science Fiction movie ever made. But many aspects of the plot are so fundamentally flawed (Kate mentions many of these flaws below), that such a declaration is almost insulting to a true science fiction fan.

And yet... I was still sort of excited when I found my son watching E.T the other morning. The feelings of disillusionment all sort of disappeared as I watched my son laugh as E.T. watched TV and got hit by the fridge door. He giggled when E.T. hid in the stuffed animals. He pointed and shouted with excitement when Elliot and E.T. flew on the bike. And he was absolutely blown away when E.T. and the kids all flew to the spaceship. Watching my son watch the film, completely caught away in its world, I smiled and remembered what it was like to believe.

Kate says I'll get the objections out of the way first.

Whenever I think about E.T., I remember a comedy routine I heard once. The comedian went to see E.T. with his girlfriend. When the movie reached the part where E.T. and Elliot fly the first time, the girlfriend leaned over and whispered, "Oh, that could never happen."

The comedian's response: "That?! THAT could never happen?"

The other thing that comes to mind is: why are extraterrestrials never out to make a buck (except in Star Trek)? Why are they either cute vegetarians or buggy villains?

And why can't these particular cute, vegetarian aliens count? Surely, they know they've left an alien brother, father, drone-buddy behind? And can't they remember where they last parked without E.T. "phoning" them? (I'm not sure I buy Elliott's argument that these are aliens of higher intelligence; if you can drive a star ship, shouldn't you be able to read a star-chart?)

Not to mention, it sure is a good thing the "bad guys" show up in the end! What was Elliott going to do otherwise? Have his life sucked out of him by some supposedly friendly being from another planet?

However, I'm not being fair. The movie isn't science-fiction; it is fantasy. It is about a boy whose ordinary life is disrupted and enhanced by a "goblin," something beyond belief or understanding.

And I think this is what our human fascination with aliens comes down to--that aliens will touch our lives with grandeur, change us forever, endow our world with magic. My problem is that although I love the idea, in my heart of hearts, I believe if aliens did show up, they would quickly become ordinary and prosaic, involving trade agreements and diplomatic blah-de-blah, stuff that doesn't involve me much now. Okay, sure, I would have a few EFHL (English as a First Human Language) students, but otherwise . . .

Setting aside the message, then, what strikes me most about the movie is the sheer professionalism. The child actors are not only natural but talented; Henry Thomas's performance is, considering his age, remarkably understated. The movie contains multiple memorable images: the guys with flashlights at the fence; the returned baseball; E.T. as stuffed animal; the liberated frogs; the revitalized flowers; the mom reading Peter Pan; the empty forest after Halloween; the arrival of the "bad guys"; Elliott's panic over E.T.'s death; the kids bicycling across the setting sun. Spielberg is a notable director for a reason!

And the images are surprisingly non-dated (I saw the non-updated version). Not only the clothing--Elliot in long-johns could be any kid in any era--but the cinematography has a fresh, modern feel. When I looked up E.T. on imdb, I was startled that it was made in 1982 (I did see it at the time; I just don't remember being only 11). I thought of it as a much later--closer to 1990s--film. (However, if it had been made in the 1990s, humongous cellphones would have given it away; humongous cellphones are what totally undermine X-Files' otherwise timeless look.)

By the way, in keeping with the previous discussion of symbolism, I never realized before how much E.T. represents a father-figure to Elliott. I think this piece of symbolism may be deliberate. Elliott insists that E.T. is male despite Gertie's tendency to dress him up in women's clothes. And at the end, Elliott chooses to stay with his mother--who is abruptly on the scene--rather than with his "new," beloved father who is going much further away than Mexico.

I have to mention: what about all those Star Wars references?!

Ferris Bueller's Day Off 1986

Kate says this movie had to be included in our list, but in all honesty, I wasn't totally looking forward to it. I teach college students, most of whom are smart and kind hard workers; a few of whom irritate me to no end because they are, well, Ferris Bueller: self-entitled preppies who don't believe they will or should ever suffer consequences. To me, Ferris Bueller is practically a sociopath, a guy who lies without remorse/change in affect. Maybe I read too much John Douglas (probably), but I find this rather chilling.

However, as an example of its kind, this John Hughes' film is a work-of-art. The pacing is almost flawless. The encapsulation of a certain type of teenage dream is nearly perfect. And parts of it are very funny: "They could be fascist anarchists. It still wouldn't change the fact I don't own a car." The secretary with multiple pencils in her hair. The boring teachers who illustrate more how high school felt than what it was actually like.

The real theme of the movie, I think, is the need for people--Jeanie, Rooney--to stop caring what Ferris does or what he gets away with, to stop obsessing over his utter lack of responsibility, to get on with their lives. So, he probably will grow up to be a fry cook! (or an embezzler who works for Enron). Eh, so what. Let it go.

The main character arc in the movie, on the other hand, belongs to Cameron. And Cameron's character arc raises an interesting point. I must have seen the movie a dozen times when I was a teen (it was THE movie people saw in my age bracket). The ending, when Cameron gets angry at his father and destroys the car, always surprised me. Where did that come from? There was no set-up to explain Cameron's inexplicable behavior.

Watching the movie now, I realized that Cameron's bad relationship with this father, while never shown, is established through dialog. However, here's the snag: most of the information about Cameron comes from Ferris Bueller, and, even at the tender age of 15, I didn't consider Ferris a credible source. Hence, Cameron's behavior always surprised me because it wasn't based on anything I could judge for myself.

The point here is, despite the many, many times I saw the movie at a teen, it had almost zero impact on my mental/emotional life. People's worries in the 80's about John Hughes' movies and their impact on the teenage population were rather unnecessary. What John Hughes did do (very well) was to mirror what teenagers already thought or wanted to think about themselves (good luck stopping that!). But I wouldn't credit John Hughes as a creator of culture--and in all fairness, I don't think he saw himself that way.

Mike says that anyone who reads this blog regularly knows that I have a lot of love and nostalgia for this movie. As I've mentioned a few times, this movie became as expected as 7-up and soup on those days I was home sick from school. Sure, I didn't understand all of it, and sure, I was sick, but it was fun, I think, to live vicariously through Ferris and truly explore and claim that freedom that comes with being home during school hours.

As a film, Ferris delivers on several levels, so many in fact, that I think the viewer can really choose what they want to take from it. For some, it could be a zany teenage comedy. For others, a film about the fun times of youth, or even a coming of age story... for some of the characters at least.

The casting and acting are all solid, and the choice of Mathew Broderick (our second film on the list starring him, by the way) was beyond perfect. It was almost as if the film was built around him. And, given Broderick's popularity of the time, that could have very well been true! As a kid, and even now, Mia Sarah's performance and presence was so refined, so royal, almost, that she would almost seem out of place. But, who else would Ferris love, but a virtual princess? The aura of wisdom and patience, though touched with youth, really works with Broderick's playfulness and charisma.

The film never drags, never falters, and is almost deceptive in the way it wanders yet heads decisively for the conclusion.

One thing I find fascinating about the film is that Ferris, in his decision to have a day off and shirk responsibility, drags several people along for the ride, even those opposed to him. While Ferris obviously takes his girlfriend and best friend along (the girlfriend, I'm convinced, was the chaperone, and Cameron had something to learn), his sister and Rooney, through their decision to hold Ferris accountable (despite their complete lack of power or authority to do so) find and seize the same self-empowerment that Ferris wields.

They break the rules themselves, blaming Ferris along the way. Jeanie shows us the peace of letting go and worrying about yourself. Rooney shows us what happens when you continue to let others guide your actions. And Cameron, well, I think he shows that we need courage to stand on our own.

As for the moral of the film, I meant what I said before: I think one can really take what they want from it. As a kid, I think it was plain good fun. As a college student, it was almost holy writ, a dogma for enjoying life between the drudgery. And now, as a parent, I find it a wonderful reminder of the empowerment and freedom of youth, and a reminder to not get too caught up in the serious things of life. Sometimes, you need a day off.

Goonies 1985

Mike says that a few years ago, I started a phase where I began watching and collecting all the films of my youth (and no, the phase hasn't ended yet). I was excited to rewatch Goonies during this time, because I had so loved it as a kid. The truffle shuffle was a standard method of punishment in my house, and Data was one of my idols.

I think the reason I wanted to rewatch it so much is that I had scattered memories of all the best scenes: peeing in the cave, pulling the pipes, the bone organ, freeing the ship, "Hey You Guys!," big brother on the kiddie bike going off the cliff . . . you know, all the cool scenes that stood out amidst the filler stuff.

And when I finally rewatched it, well, I realized why those were the only scenes I remembered--because those scenes, those hilarious, stand out scenes, make up the entire movie! While this is very cool in that the movie is a non-stop adventure ride, well . . . that's about it. There's not much "filler," and sometimes, the stuff that happens in between the big scenes is what pulls a movie together.

Goonies is a great movie, and works very well, but the adventure is all you're getting out of this. The worried parents, the investigators looking for the kids, the clean-up of the disasters they caused are all possible side plots that are completely ignored. Even the small stuff, like how the kids got from one cave chamber to another (that seem to stretch throughout their entire town) is all passed over in favor of moving from one big scene to another.

Like I said, it makes for a fun movie. But, it's also a movie that sometimes feels more like a ride in an amusement park rather than an actual film.

Despite this mature conclusion that I've reached as a now educated adult, I still absolutely love this film, and laugh and enjoy almost every minute of it whenever I watch it. Sure, maybe a part of it is nostalgia (as Kate says, Nothing was ever really as good back in the "good old days" as we want to believe), but I think the major part is that this film reaches the kid still roaming around in my head and heart somewhere and makes him want to round up the neighborhood kids for one last adventure.

Kate says this movie is SO Chris Columbus.

It's fun with a total Disney-ride feel to it. And it doesn't pretend to be anything other than it is, but every now and again the difference between what it could be (nostalgic adventure a la Sandlot) and what it is (cutsy/smaltzy slapstick) is a little disconcerting. There's only so many crotch jokes a movie can provide before I start rolling my eyes.

Actually, the first false note for me was the appearance of the Asian kid. Not that I dislike Data, but it was so "token gesturish," I just shook my head. The monster brother, Sloth, also seemed totally over the top.

On the other hand, the movie's beginning does have that Sandlot feel. The kids form a believable group with natural family/friend interactions. The brothers' combination of teasing and affection is very real.

And every group has a Mouth.

The hunt for the treasure also starts naturally. The kids treat it as half-real, half-made-up, the way kids do play. Their blithe decision to investigate the wet Oregon countryside reminds me of my own childhood when my friends, siblings, and I would investigate the nearby woods.

But then . . . .well . . . there's lots of screaming. And more screaming. And silly bad guys. And the chubby kid saves the day.

I did find Chunk (Jeff Cohen) extremely amusing, especially all the stories he tells that nobody believes. Martha Pimpton, however, is easily the best actor out of the bunch with the strongest comedic timing ("This is ridiculous. It's crazy. I feel like I'm babysitting, except I'm not getting paid.")

The pirate ship floating past Cauldron Point is very cool. The most touching moment is still (I remembered it clearly) when Mikey "meets" One-Eyed Willie: "You know something, Willie? You're the first Goonie."

Complete side-note: I was CONVINCED that Elijah Wood was in this film with Sean Astin (before they worked together on LOTR). Actually, there is a 10 year difference in age which means Elijah Wood was 4 when Goonies was made. Who knew?!

War Games 1983

Kate says I'd forgotten how often I saw this movie as a young teen. I remembered when certain moments sent me into a sudden "back to the future" mental spin. (For example, when Ally Sheedy's character first comes over, Matthew Broderick's character picks up his dirty laundry and throws it into a corner. I guess I thought this was unbelievably hilarious when I was younger--it is still pretty funny--because I had this "oh, yeah, I remember waiting for that moment to happen!" reaction.)

The movie is based on a few unrealistic premises. One is that any country would put a computer in charge of its military decisions. (But then, even Asimov made the mistake of thinking human beings would give up the privilege of being the ones to pull the trigger.) An Air Force commander of Beringer's rationality would never take the word of a computer, concerning 2400 missile strikes, over the word of his fighter pilots in the air.

(Personally, I think the real fear of nuclear war to Hollywood in the 1980s was that nuclear weapons would take out Washington, NYC, and LA: the United States would go on functioning, but it would be run from Cincinnati.)

I may not have realized how unrealistic the movie was when I was younger, but I certainly had zero interest in global thermonuclear war (yup, I was one of those odd 80's-products who actually didn't worry about being vaporized by the U.S.S.R.).

Based on the kinds of movies and shows I currently watch, I'm guessing what hooked me is the investigation part of the movie. The investigation by David (Matthew Broderick) in which he attempts to track down first Joshua's password and then Falken is surprisingly plausible in its steps and still the strongest part of the movie.

I even found the teenagers' insouciance and lack of any real sense of responsibility less annoying than I found it as a youth. Then, I was upset by their lack of "what the hey, we started a nuclear war!" reactions. Now, I find their attitudes just a tad too real.

The writing--dialog, editing--is quite tight. Also, Stargate fans: that's the Cheyenne Mountain Complex!

And geez, what a cast! John Wood, Dabney Coleman, Barry Corbin, James Tolkan, playing an FBI guy! (he plays an FBI guy on Nero Wolfe). Forget the teens, how on earth did they get that cast?!

Mike says ah, the Cold War of the eighties.... How I missed you! I think somewhere in the back of my head, even in today's post 9/11 world, the villain of the week will never be scarier than the Russians. In fact, I think if you dug deep enough into my psyche, you'd find that I still believed it was Rocky that brought the Cold War to an end by knocking out Dolph Lundgren in the ring!

Like Kate, I don't think I spent my childhood in fear of nuclear holocaust, but we kids in the playground did know that Russian spies were everywhere, even if the Cold War was over! Despite this, watching War Games as a kid, I think I was unaware of the political aspects of the film. The bad guys were plausible for me, and that was about it. The fact that there is zero Russian representation in the film supports this. They were that shadowy bad guy that filled the role, and that was it.

Once I got past the very obvious age of the film (oddly, it's the film quality that aged the most), it is still a very engaging, and at times, rather frightening movie. In fact, one could almost watch it as a period piece, as the fears shown in the film are still very valid. The sets are just very authentic!

The film starts in a very engaging way, gaining the viewers' attention gradually, revealing layer after layer of subtle intrigue until you are watching two men carrying out nuclear war. Once the mood is set, it carries through the rest of the film very effectively. The mystery of the program and finding the history is all very cool, and when the game really begins, I found myself hooked. So hooked, in fact, that when the computer starting calling Mathew Broderick over and over, I felt a chill of terror. Oh no! It knows where he is! And it thinks the game is real! The super creepy computer voice only helps in confirming the direness of the situation.

As a kid, I think the general draw of the movie was all of the very cool tricks that Broderick uses throughout the film. This was a guy who played video games, had an awesome computer, and knew how to hack a telephone booth. WOW! I still remember my little mind bursting with awe.

As a race against the clock, the film works (thought they may have cheated travel times a bit), and the suspense still works today. The ideas and the plot of this film hold up so well, I think if the movie were made today, it would still sell and be popular (though it would either be a period piece or they'd update everything).

I think the most surprising thing about War Games is that the attitude about technology--a little bit of fear, and excitement to push it forward--is still very valid today. The subtle moral that human ingenuity can beat technology is still used in the media constantly. Though we have grown far more accustomed to our new toys, we still fear where the path of technology will end. That I watched the film with the news of Steve Jobs' death still fresh in my mind made the experience all the more enlightening.

List Number 7! Films We Grew Up With

Films We Grew Up With

1. War Games
2. Goonies
3. Ferris Bueller's Day Off
4. E.T.
5. Labyrinth
6. Heaven Can Wait (Warren Beatty version)
7. The Karate Kid
8. Star Wars IV (1977 version)
9. Neverending Story
10. Field of Dreams
    
    

Despite an almost 10 year difference between Mike and Kate, we both saw (most of) these films before becoming adults. Mike did NOT see Star Wars IV when it first came out (Kate was five; see photo). However, he did see it plus V and VI in his youth.

Join us on a walk (longer for some than others) down memory lane.

The first film, War Games, will be reviewed October 7, 2011.

Mike's son, Benji. Yes, this was his first night home. Gotta teach 'em early!


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