Monologue: "Lone Biker of the Apocalypse"

Michael C. here to drop off your regularly scheduled Monday Monologue

This week marks the 25th anniversary of the Coen brothers' screwball, baby-knapping comedy Raising Arizona. Rewatching the film it is striking just how distant the rowdy hayseed comedy feels from cool control of the brothers' recent output. This isn't meant as an accusation that they have gone soft in their middle age. Quite the contrary. But even as they have produced a handful of unequivocal masterpieces I still harbor a soft spot for their wild younger days, much the way a Woody Allen fan can't help but pine for the anarchic spirit of Bananas no matter how much he appreciates the cinematic mastery of Crimes and Misdemeanors.

Take the scene where a premonition of doom visits Cage's H.I. soon after swiping one of the "Arizona Quints" to complete his family unit with Holly Hunter's Ed:

That night, I had a dream. I drifted off thinking about happiness, birth and new life, But now I was haunted by a vision of... He was horrible. The lone biker of apocalypse. A man with all the powers of Hell at his command. He could turn turn the day into night and lay to waste everything in his path.

He was especially hard on little things-the helpless and the gentle creatures. He left a scorched earth in his wake befouling even the sweet desert breeze that whipped across his brow. I didn't know where he came from or why. I didn't know if he was dream or vision. But I feared that I myself had unleashed him. For he was the fury that would be as soon as Florence Arizona found her little Nathan gone. 

The characters are both beloved Coen brother templates. The Biker (memorably embodied by former pro boxer Randall "Tex" Cobb) is one in a long line of remorseless heavies that reached their apex in Anton Chirgurh, while Cage's H.I is in the grand tradition of Coen brothers morons that continued through the escaped bumpkins of O Brother right up to the glorious idiocy of Brad Pitt's Chad Feldheimer.

Likewise giving even their most dimwitted characters memorable turns of phrase like "befouling the sweet desert breeze" is an unmistakable Coens trademark. See: Lebowski, Big.

What stands apart is the wild, improvised feel of the sequence. The series of gags that introduce the Biker - including the grenading of a cute, fluffy bunny - would be right at home in a Road Runner cartoon. The capper on the whole sequence is a doozy of a shot where the camera, which we had assumed to be the Biker's POV, goes unexpectedly airborne and flies right through a window landing in the open mouth of Mrs. Arizona as she screams. The moment can't help but bring to mind the fluid insanity of Sam Raimi's Evil Dead series.

When Joel and Ethan have returned to screwball material in flicks like Burn After Reading the execution more closely resembles the deliberate style of Arizona's follow-up, Miller's Crossing. And while I repeat this is neither good nor bad, and that all great artists evolve, I can't deny I would kill to see what some meticulously controlled later day title like, say, A Serious Man would look like if it was made with the same unhinged, shoot from the hip style the Coens brought to Raising Arizona a quarter century ago.

Recent Monologues:
"My name is Charlene" -Missi Pyle in Spring Break
Megan and the Dolphins - Melissa McCarthy in Bridesmaids

Monologue: "My name is Charlene. What are you wearing?"

Time for our Monday Monologue...

Missi, Uggie and Jean DujardinOne of the unexpected joys of this year's edition of Endless Awards Season has been the presence of the very funny, very talented Missi Pyle. She's kind of blink and you'll miss her as "Constance" the 'Lina Lamont' silent star archetype in The Artist. But she's been everywhere at the events. That's oddly appropriate given that she always seems to be blink and you'll miss her in movies but she makes the best of it. Often when I see her in that big ball of joy that is the cast and crew of The Artist (winning makes the joy part a lot easier) I think back to my favorite moment in her filmography to date.

She was the comedy MVP of the oft-delayed and then underseen and weirdly trashed Spring Breakdown (2009) which is much funnier than it gets credit for. Her MVP status says a lot since the three leads Amy Poehler, Parker Posey, and Rachel Dratch have been known to wring laughs from even the weakest material. Somehow Pyle steals the show out from under them.

Pyle plays Charlene a Spring Break junkie well past age appropriateness for the Endless Summer cruising and bingeing. She takes this trio of new girls under her drunken wing.

After a particularly booze-fueled night she stumbles home with her new friend Gayle (Amy Poehler) and goes all weepy pontificating drunk. 

Every spring this place she flares up like a cold sore and I'm back for more, you know? The kids and the sex and the booze. And you think it'll go on forever but it's like one of those videos, you know, of a fireplace that you put on your TV.

And, like, no matter how close you get to the screen it's never going to warm you up."

Suddenly then, she's all nonsequitor.

Her moods tilt and slide around like formerly coherent thoughts sloshing around in alcoholic waves.

I just wanted to be a stylist to the stars.

[Suddenly high pitched] 'You think so?' 

Oh hello there fine fella! Who is this?

She veers towards... a tree.

"Oh honey, that's a tree," Gayle tries to stop her but Charlene is already making her move. 

[To the tree] My name is Charlene. What are you wearing?

[Glancing to the side. Suddenly crying] I love him!

 
[To Gayle] Don't touch me. Please touch me. Thank you.

Let's just stay here for awhile.

Pyle keeps this comic train hilarious, frisky and sharp even as it jumps right off the tracks careening towards its next blackout: Crying jags, weird bursts of horniness, pickled blood stream, and yet she's weirdly touching.

It's comic magic.

It's hot mess tragic. 

Her name is Charlene. I love her!

Monologue: Megan & the Dolphin

Have you missed Monologue Mondays? I know I have. So let's start again and try to do this weekly.

Though Bridesmaids' Melissa McCarthy probably won her Oscar nomination for a variety of reasons, you almost always need one Oscar "clip" to make the lineup. You know the kind. It's an instant fix of the performance, which works in the way soundbites do for politicians or catchphrases do for sitcom stars. It's something they can play at the Oscars or at awards shows that will a) remind people why they loved the performance b) remind them why they liked the movie and c) pack a mini dramatic punch that justifies the nomination for the millions who might not have seen it yet. This can be true even if the person is nominated for a broadly comic role, as rare as those nominations are.

 

I think you're ready to hear a little story about a girl named Megan, a girl named Megan that didn't have a very good time in high school. I'm referring to myself when I say 'Megan'. It's me Megan.

Now the Oscars don't always select clips this way. Continued after the jump...

Click to read more ...

Stage Door: Marisa Tomei vs. Julianne Moore

Stage Door will now be a weekly Tuesday series featuring Nathaniel's (or other contributors') theatrical adventures and, as often as possible, how they do connect or could connect with the cinema. So pardon this Monday entry, and subsequent double dip, but 'tis the season; we'll do this again tomorrow for the Tony Award Nominations! But today... a few notes on Marie & Bruce, the current revival of the play with Marisa Tomei (it closes this coming weekend) and the movie version with Julianne Moore.

I mentioned the play briefly before. It opens with Marie and Bruce in bed. Marie is unable to sleep and proceeds to talk herself in circles, spewing bile towards her sleeping husband whom she apparently hates and plans to leave that very day. She tells us about his prized typewriter which she threw away and complains that it's a hot summer, they've both had the flu, and neither of them have jobs. After she wakes him, she emasculates him repeatedly while he tries to make coffee and dress for a lunch date. You get the sense that she's Martha but he's not George  --- a one sided Virginia Woolf (not that this play is a qualitative match but, then again, what is?). Instead of fighting back, he merely says "well darling" this and "well darling" that, smothering her with verbal affection which she returns with mocking bile.

The play is staged superbly in its current revival with a gorgeously flexible set which, with only minor adjustments, acts as the couple's bedroom, the dining room of a friend's party, and a romantic cafe. (It's basically a mini three-act play performed without intermission.  Both Marie and Bruce are hard to get to know but you still feel for them since they seem so ill at ease in all three environments. Or at least Marie does. The constant fourth-wall breaking monologues, which generally feel natural in theater settings and too affected in movies (and Marie and Bruce is no exception), help win you over to the harsh characters.

Throughout the entire second act, the party, you become privy to snippets of conversations from each partygoer. It's the best part of the play, staged ingeniously with a rotating set as if you're circling the party and drifting from conversation to conversation as people actually do at parties. Strangely, or perhaps ingeniously, the key to Marie's character seems to be one of these offhand conversations.

In the movie version, Marie (Julianne Moore) seems entirely stoned during the party sequence -- not just confused about her own feelings -- but she leans in to this particular party profundity (monday monologue alert!), bewildered but cognizant that she should understand it. And feels immediately sick thereafter.

Woman at Party: I understand what you're saying but isn't it possible for sometimes people to not feel what they actually do feel? Do you know what i mean?

I mean they may actually feel a certain thing but they don't really know that they do because
in their own conscience minds they're so incredibly involved in what they think that they feel that they don't really feel the thing at all. Do you see what i'm saying?

I mean like, for example, a very common example is when you're supposed to feel pleased by something thing like when somebody gives you a present and you're supposed to feel pleased but actually you don't because the thing is something that  actually you hate or you actually already have the thing. But you're not supposed to say 'Well, I really hate this.' You're supposed to say 'oh boy that's great I really like it.'

Julianne Moore has always had a gift with neurosis and her best characterizations tends to involve women who are lost to themselves through self delusion, mental illness, or societal mores (See: Amber Waves, Cathy Whitaker, Carol White, Laura Brown, etcetera). In theory Marie -- who seems very decisive only to gradually reveal herself to be confused and paralyzed -- is a perfect match for her gifts but it's actually Marisa Tomei who wins this round. It helps a lot that her vehicle is better all around and has more precise ideas about how Marie will interact with the audience; the movie can't seem to make up its mind about how much of a storyteller Marie should be or whether or not she should stare directly at the camera and break the fourth wall. But there is something in Tomei's gabby everywoman sensuality, and instant relatability that trumps the character's offputting nature. Marie is still an incredibly unhappy woman spreading her misery around -- Tomei doesn't sugarcoat it -- but she's somehow more sympathetic. Moore, with her inarguable star allure is maybe too much of a presence -- unwittingly closing the already impenetrable character off even further.

The play: B; The movie: C-; The current revival: B+/A-

Stage Door
Drama Desk Nominees announced. Color me very surprised that all three principles from Women on the Verge... got nominated: Sherie Rene Scott, Patti Lupone and Laura Benanti (pictured left). Only Benanti as the ditzy chatterbox who sleeps with a terrorist thrilled the audience the night I attended; the musical was no match for the Almodóvar source material.
Gold Derby has the Drama League nominees. I served one year on the nominating committee several years ago and it was a ton of fun (they have a rotating civilian section of the nominating committee)
Back Stage Blog Stage Seems that Sutton Foster (one of our favorites) and Bobby Canavale (The Station Agent, Will & Grace) are now an item.
Kritzerland Camelot's original London cast recording from 1964 is getting released this summer. Laurence Harvey instead of Richard Burton as King Arthur! [gasp]
La Daily Musto lists a very odd assortment of his fav "11th hour" Broadway Musical numbers. He seems to have a very loose definition... but there's absolutely no beating "LOT'S WIFE" from Caroline or Change. I saw that show twice and both times I thought I was going to explode inside it was so moving.

Monday Monologue: You Spoiled Little Bastard.

Jose here. With the Arthur remake arriving in theaters this weekend, now's a good opportunity to remember what made the original one of the most beloved movies of the 80s. The answer: John Gielgud.
The legendary British actor set the standards for what would become a subcategory of acting during the following decades: brilliant actors playing wise sidekick to rising stars.

His performance as valet/father figure Hobson, to Dudley Moore's irresponsible title millionaire, won him the Best Supporting Actor Oscar and with reason. He's truly unforgettable. In one of his best scenes, he gives Arthur a life lesson he probably would never forget.  

After Arthur has finished racing his car, he exits the vehicle complaining about his life. The loyal Hobson, asks him to hand over his helmet and goggles.

After this he slaps him while calling him a "spoiled little bastard".

Without giving Arthur a chance to say anything, Hobson begins:

You're a man who has everything, aren't you. But that's not enough!
You feel unloved Arthur? Welcome to the world. Everyone is unloved!  

Now stop feeling sorry for yourself...

Incidentally... I love you. 

Marry Susan, Arthur. Poor drunks do not find love Arthur.  
Poor drunks have very few teeth, they urinate outdoors, they freeze to death in summer.

I can't bear to think of you that way. 

Gielgud's spitfire delivery makes this monologue touching, hilarious and surprising. Best of all is the way in which Moore reacts to Gielgud. He seems to be in awe of this man's capacity.
The camera follows Arthur and Hobson as the latter continues his speech. Arthur just nods in agreement and for the first time in what seems an eternity shuts up completely.

We understand that Hobson's relationship to his employer has transcended any expectations. They have bonded and have learned to love each other.

Just as Arthur begins to speak again, telling his friend how he's fallen in love for the first time, Hobson, who has undoubtedly been devising a plan magically adds, 

Perhaps fate will lend a hand... 

How do you think Dame Helen Mirren will fare playing this iconic role? Do you think anyone will ever live up to Gielgud's beautiful performance?