Vegas Vacation (1997)

Director: Stephen Kessler

Cast: Chevy Chase, Beverly D’Angelo, Randy Quaid, Ethan Embry

Have I Seen it Before: The film holds a certain amount of legendary status in our family, although not for any reason beyond the circumstantial. Between 1994 and 2000, my family and I made at least four, and potentially more (I remember one summer alone we made three trips alone) to Vegas. It was that period—Chase even mentions it in the film—when Vegas was experimenting with being a family destination. We could ride roller coasters while Pop engaged in what might be called a gambling addiction if he didn’t seem to be somewhat skilled.

Our average rate of visiting the city was so frequent, that it was almost inevitable that we were there when this was filming. The film itself is sort of weird memory burned into my brain, but the moment I looked across the casino at the MGM Grand and saw the man who once was Fletch and would one day be Pierce Hawthorne between takes near the Keno room, dressed in full Clark Griswold regalia.

The legend continues from there. I had all but forgotten about the film and my brief brush with Chevy. Cut to last fall and I’m visiting the parents. Apparently, they had bought copies of the DVD in bulk to hand out as prizes when friends come over to play poker. Rolling my eyes, I got a copy for free.

Did I Like It: The film is perhaps a perfect example of medium ambitions not remotely fulfilled. Clearly, it would not be a controversial opinion to say that National Lampoon’s Vacation (1983) and National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (1989) are the ones we’ll see in obituary b-roll for Chase one day. I’ve never been that enamored of the Griswold’s all together, so while I can’t share that disappointment, I can understand it. The franchise has certainly taken a step down when John Hughes is nowhere to be found in the credits.

But it goes beyond that. Produced by Jerry Weintraub, this feels like the first pass at a commercial for the Las Vegas Chamber of Commerce, before he finally found the right vehicle for such an endeavor in Ocean’s Eleven (2001) and its sequels. I honestly think Chase could have reached for a comeback with a return to Fletch, but given the film on display here, a return to any character at this point would have been similarly anemic.

The film isn’t without its charms, though. There are several points where Chase seems to be emulating my father. A general audience might find a family breakfast interrupted by a sudden trip to the Craps table to be not terribly relatable, but I’m not one of those people. My dad may not have Tarzan-ed his way across the Hoover Dam, but that’s more because we didn’t really go see the sights when we were in the area. We laugh in my house about Rusty’s (Embry) adventures as Nick Poppageorgio, but we laugh because had I found my way into a fake ID, it’s only a mild exaggeration. “I do not require them” is a line repeated often growing up. A film can move beyond the realm of criticism if it can hit a group of people at the right time.

And yet, a couple of laughs do exist. Primarily they rest with supporting players. Wallace Shawn as a pernicious blackjack dealer is worth a chuckle or two, but I can’t help but laugh at the brief moment we’re treated to Toby Huss as a Frank Sinatra impersonator with a plan.

The Paper (1994)

Director: Ron Howard

Cast: Michael Keaton, Glenn Close, Marisa Tomei, Randy Quaid

Have I Seen it Before: Yes. I did go through a period—I think it was early in the days when I started getting DVDs from Netflix (kids, ask your parents)—where I watched all of the movies Keaton made instead of Batman Forever (1995). Essentially this and Speechless (1994)*. It felt like it might be therapeutic, but it really wasn’t.

Did I Like It: This does a great job of doing that very simple thing which films aren’t all that interested in anymore: allowing a film to live or die by showing as authentically as possible people at work. Aaron Sorkin trucks in this and almost exclusively this. Mid-budget dramas and comedies used to make this sort of thing an art. Historical implications aside, All The President’s Men (1976) is an absolute symphony of this quality. There may be something to setting the film in a Newspaper that really makes the whole thing come together.

It’s a quietly thrilling thing to see in this day and age, when the most frequent job I get to imagine myself having (I do greatly enjoy imagining myself in some other job) while watching modern films is to be a superhero. It’s not so much that the Marvel movies are ruining cinema, it’s that there is something to be said for inspiring people to do things actual human beings do.

That said, the film might be just a bit too slight for its own good. Is Ron Howard ultimately the most breezy of his contemporaries that—aside from a stray Apollo 13 (1995) or A Beautiful Mind (2001)—any film is going to feel thinner than it might from another director? Is it the fact that a Randy Newman score just makes things so light that I can’t help but think we should be looking at something computer animated? Is it the fact that Randy Quaid is here at all? Probably a mixture of both.

*The true film for which Keaton abandoned Gotham City. Keaton and Geena Davis play political speechwriters who fall in love only to have Christopher Reeve cause them problems? Why isn’t that my favorite film of all time. Probably because its more than a little hard to find. But this review isn’t about Speechless.

Independence Day (1996)

Director: Roland Emmerich

Cast: Jeff Goldblum, Will Smith, Bill Pullman, Randy Quaid

Have I Seen it Before: Oh, sure. The summer of ‘96, this thing was bigger than Star Wars. At least, it felt like it was bigger than Star Wars, especially in an era before the special editions and the prequels. The family saw it during Independence Day weekend in Washington DC, which was probably the way to take in this movie intially. There were toys, there were tie-in novels, and there was the subsequent wearing out of a VHS copy.

Did I Like It: But then something happened. It was about a year after the film’s release, and I was at a Sci-Fi convention. They had a room devoted to endless screenings of various movies*. This movie was playing, I caught the tail end of it.

And I was bored beyond comprehension. I was thirteen. The film barely had a shelf-life of a year.

The jokes had burned out after the first viewing, the storyline collapses under even the slightest scrutiny of a thirteen-year-old, and the special effects would become passé very quickly after that. There simply isn’t that much movie there. Outside of a THX certified theater, the thrill disappears like vapor.

Seriously, this is a movie where scores of characters roll their eyes whenever Randy Quaid starts ranting about flying saucers, like visitors from another planet is the most patently ridiculous idea ever considered... While at the same time there are flying saucers everywhere. Did they hold any script meetings about this film? Or do people just have to react that way to Randy Quaid, regardless of the actual circumstances?

And still, I want to remember what enjoying the film was like. I suppose it’s a nice idea that the various nations of the world would get over their provincial differences and unite against a common enemy. Will Smith arrives fully-formed as a movie star for the masses here, having hinted at his charisma with Bad Boys (1995).

Also, the action figures came with computer games on floppy disks, which was pretty cool.

I’m trying, folks. I know the film is beloved by many, but it just ain’t me.

*Conventions don’t really do that any more, aside from anime. They should.