Dogma (1999)

Director: Kevin Smith

Cast: Ben Affleck, Matt Damon, Linda Fiorentino, Alan Rickman

Have I Seen It Before: I’m not sure how someone gets through the early aughts without taking in the film. I’m not sure how precisely my gang and I got to the film when most of them would go out and buy pearls to clutch at anything rougher than a hard PG-13, but we did. Most people didn’t like it. Some people threw some real temper tantrums about it.

I remember this exchange in particular:

Someone trying to make the peace about the whole affair. “I mean, it is a little Unitarian…”

Me, several years before actually becoming a Unitarian. “So?”

These are the moments that stick in your mind, along with, presumably, some moments from the film itself.

Did I Like It: Is it enough to say that it may still be my favorite Smith film? That may be damning with faint praise, as his later works have left me either mildly amused or resoundingly cold, but it has everything someone could possibly want from one of his films. It is funny. Yes, some of it still works. Most of that is in the performances. George Carlin is good as the hapless, self-absorbed priest who accidentally brings existence to the brink. Chris Rock may never have been better in the films (even if he always seemed more at home with in a sketch or with a microphone in his hands). Mewes—always a bit much to take depending on how susceptible one is to the charms of catchphrases—gets all the best lines, and manages to throw away more than a few of them.

It has that independent film spirit that tends to melt away there in the mid-2000s and has felt a little bit forced since Red State (2011).

But most importantly, it has something to say. Back in the day, there was more than a little pearl clutching about his other films, like Clerks (1994), but here you could judge your uptight friends and it actually might lead you to start contemplating more profound ideas about the universe… Like how John Hughes can both set Jay and Silent Bob (Smith) on their holy path by writing The Breakfast Club (1985), and then sell his soul to Satan by the 1990s.

Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (1991)

Director: Kevin Reynolds

Cast: Kevin Costner, Morgan Freeman, Christian Slater, Alan Rickman

Have I Seen it Before: Oh, sure. Flashback to 1991 for just a moment, and I even had a full range of Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves toys (even if they were just a pretty feeble repackaging of Kenner’s Return of the Jedi toys from 1983. Seriously. They just slightly repainted an Ewok’s face to make Friar Tuck. Look it up.

Did I Like It: There is plenty to like about the film. It’s core identity as a film is that of a competent 90s actioner. There are explosions, and jumps, and fights, and a thumping orchestral score (which, for reasons passing my immediate understanding became the music behind the Walt Disney Studios vanity card after a while).

Morgan Freeman is quite good in a thankless, undercooked, and probably ill-considered, but he’s been the best thing in plenty of bad things. Some great actors just like to work. Alan Rickman is a cartoon confection of a villain, but understands the job ahead of him perfectly and you marvel at the fact that, in what amounted to his three most memorable roles, he plays the villain, or at the very least an anti-hero. In the Harry Potter films, he milks every moment out of the pathos available to him. In Die Hard (1988) he is a coiled snake of ruthless intelligence. In this film, he’s Sindely Whiplash. And all are equally valid.

The problem is, that there’s something rotten at the core of the movie, and it is its star. Much was made in the years immediately after the films release about Costner not playing the hero of Sherwood Forrest with an English accent, but you forget how wobbly the whole enterprise is if you haven’t seen it in a while. Costner feebly attempts a more formal tone of speaking, as if that will serve, but even that is inconsistent. It’s only somewhat his fault, as the very idea of casting him in the role is a bad one. At his core, he’s too all-American. The corpse in The Big Chill (1983)? Sure. Pa Kent? Absolutely. He’s not an Englishman. But, sadly, he was a bit too big after Dances with Wolves (1990) and no one could say no.

Ultimately, it kind of makes it akin to Star Wars — Episode I: The Phantom Menace (1999) in that way, a fine piece of blockbuster entertainment with a single unbelievable performance at it that brings the whole affair down. 

I didn’t think as I was starting to write this review that I was going to offer quite so many Star Wars comparisons in this review, but here we are. 

Die Hard (1988)

Director: John McTiernan

Cast: Bruce Willis, Alan Rickman, Alexander Godunov, Bonnie Bedelia

Have I Seen it Before: Every Christmas Eve for years…

Anybody got a problem with that?

No? We good?

Did I Like It: It’s reputation as a one of the greatest action films of all time would be hard to dispute. Every moment of the film is precisely to design. I can count on one hand the amount of films that waste not one second of their screen time. The movie made Bruce Willis a star beyond the dreams of Moonlighting, when his subsequent work in films has only intermittently earned that degree of notoriety. It birthed an entire of subgenre of “Die Hard on a…” action movies that actually contributed a few pretty great movies.

Someone might not care for action films, and on this level one could not recommend the film. Otherwise, it is one of those superlative films that repels controversial or contrary assessments.

Except on that one issue. Fine, let’s talk about it. Is Die Hard a Christmas movie? Many—including the film’s star, apparently—have dismissed the idea completely out of hand. Many insist that it objectively not only qualifies as a Christmas movie, but in fact is at or near the top of the greatest Christmas movies. Still more find the debate between the two points to be tiresome and tedious.

I think all three perspectives need to take a minute and remember both the holiday they’re dragging through the mud and the movie they’re taking the piss out of in the process. It’s about family. It’s about togetherness. It’s about trying to be with family on certain dates in late December. If that’s not a Christmas movie, then I think the universe is fundamentally at odds about fundamental truths.

I watch Die Hard every Christmas Eve. The holiday is not real, nor does it even officially start until Argyle (De’voreaux White) drives Mr. and Mrs. McLane away in his limo.

If it’s not a part of your Christmas celebration, then it is not a Christmas movie for you. Can the rest of us do what we want in December?

Good.

Now if I only could get everyone on board with the idea that Batman Returns (1992) being a Christmas movie, then we could finally have peace on Earth and good will toward man and Bonnie Bedelia.

Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (2007)

Director: Tim Burton

Cast: Johnny Depp, Helena Bonham Carter, Alan Rickman, Timothy Spall

Have I Seen it Before: Yes, in some weird haze that was 2008, I have a vague recollection of owning it on DVD, but then again I owned lots of stuff back then.

Did I Like It: It’s a difficult topic to approach. Burton’s output since the early 90s has been quite a bit off balance. For every Big Fish (2003) or Big Eyes (2014)* there have been an army of Dark Shadows (2012) and Alice in Wonderland (2010) to deal with. So I will go out on a limb and say that this is Burton’s best film since the turn of the century.

And yet, I don’t think I can say I would like it.

As to why, I think format may be working against Burton. He isn’t alone in making this mistake, but in the transfer from stage musical to musical film, some things get lost. The stage play is one of big booming melodrama, whereas here the proceedings are relegated to a tiny set and tinier frames. The big-budget musicals of yore like The Sound of Music (1965) traded in their bombast (or more appropriately, enhanced it) with a sweeping sense of the cinematic. Even an urban tale like West Side Story (1961) has more of a flourish than the dourness here.

The trappings of a movie hurt the story in more ways. Johnny Depp is (or, at least, was) a movie star, but he is not a singer, and the role of Todd really only has one job. Rickman—here stuck playing the thankless and truncated role of Judge Turpin—would have made a riveting Todd. Even Buffy The Vampire Slayer’s Anthony Stewart Head** would have been transfixing here. But alas, neither are leading men at the degree needed to deliver a decent opening weekend. So we are stuck with Depp, smack dab in the middle of his “I don’t need to be an actor, I just need a really interesting wig” phase.

I’m relatively sure that phase is still ongoing, but it’s not like we’re all chomping at the bit to see Depp in pictures anymore.

As I type those paragraphs, it’s become clear that I don’t really like the film at all.

*Note to self, between those two examples and Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure (1985), Burton is to always be trusted with a film that has “big” in the title.

**Head in fact gets nothing more than a cameo. A baffling choice made all the more befuddling by the knowledge that a larger role for the actor must reside somewhere on a cutting room/hard drive.