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And they don’t come much geekier or more touchstony than 1975’s Monty Python and the Holy Grail, not only damn near one of the funniest movies ever made but certainly one of the most quotable… at least for us endlessly self-referential types for whom all of life is but a never ceasing trail of opportunities to show off the ridiculous capability we have for retaining movie, computer, and science fiction trivia.
Promising but a little unsteady on his feet with his first film, Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, writer/director Ritchie has graduated, with Snatch, to full-fledged cool-ass dude and filmmaker to watch out for.
So what the Coens did with O Brother, Where Art Thou? is this: They transported Homer’s epic poem The Odyssey to this filmic otherworld of theirs, turning what is perhaps the original on-the-road story into a Depression-era fantasia that wants more for you to recognize the clever fun they’re having with filmmaking conventions of the 1930s than whether you know the least thing about ancient literature.
The Meanspirit of the Season When the sticky-sweet sentiments of the season threaten to send into a diabetic coma and you’re ready to take hostages if you hear that Muzak rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock” over the mall loudspeaker system one more goddamn time, then you are ready for the twisted and profane Beavis & … more…
A new-fashioned screwball comedy combining improbable elements, from ancient Egyptian artifacts to downtown New York chic, with classic conceits like mistaken identity and romantic conundrums.
But those who insist on misconstruing the Grinch will certainly be delighted with Ron Howard’s new live-action adaptation, because it subverts Dr. Seuss’s point in exactly the same way. And the result is a bizarre and uncomfortable film.
It’s Help! in the Old West, or The Quick and the Deadheads. This “electric western” musical comedy isn’t quite a hero’s journey, more a hero’s trip. It probably helps to be stoned.
Christopher Guest’s Best in Show is another hilarious and poignant mockumentary that, in the vein of his Waiting for Guffman, pokes gentle fun at its fictional subjects as well its audience.
Would The X-Files exist without 1984’s Ghostbusters? Would Buffy? Would world-weary sarcasm and snarky self-reference ever have reached the level of art form if not for Peter Venkman? The answers, okay, more than likely, are Yes, Yes, and Yes. But they’ll all more fun because Ghostbusters seared its way through our impressionable adolescent brains at just the right time to inflict the most grievous psychological injury.
A witty Aardman-brand treat: Chicken Run is a sneaky, cheeky parody of prison and escape movies that nevertheless finds decidedly unsentimental pathos in the predicament of farmyard chickens.
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