Never Seen It #345: Fiddler on the Roof

Tradition! Watching 500 movies we've never seen before. It's tradition! And chatting about the same episode of TV over and over. Tradition!!!

Fiddler on the Roof

1971

Norman Jewison

Part I

Sunny and I got together a few weeks ago to discuss the connection between a movie on the Film Club list and an episode of Reba that we had each seen a couple times. The following is a transcript of our conversation. Come back tomorrow for Part II, in which we dive into the Grannies Gone Wild of it all in a little more depth. Today, the focus is on the movie.

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Joe: Did you like the movie?

Sunny: I'd say I liked it. I wouldn't say I loved it, but I liked it. There were some things it did that were pretty good.

Joe: Do you like musicals in movie adaptation form?

Sunny: In general, I think just seeing three-hour musicals from the '70s, that itself was a pause for me. And then, I didn't know anything about what this was about, really. It's been in the ether for a while. A lot of TV shows reference it, I think I recognized that it's theater kid bait. I was watching it I think on a Sunday, I watched it from like twelve to five, with breaks. During the last hour, Kelsey came home, and looked on the screen, and was like, "Oh, Tevye!"

Joe: She knew.

Sunny: If I walked into this movie that someone was watching, I would have been like, "What the fuck is this? What is this old-timey bullshit?" [laughter]

Joe: So she had seen the movie before?

Sunny: I don't even know if she had. But she knew the play, the musical. Like Barbara Jean, earlier in her life...

Joe: Let's put a pin in the Reba thing for now. [laughter] If we can hold it.

Sunny: We'll see.

Joe: I definitely saw a community theater version of this.

Sunny: Was it also three hours?

Joe: I... don't remember anything. Which is funny. Like I remember being in the theater. I remember the man being on the roof, like the stage scenery roof, playing the fiddle. And I don't remember anything else. That might have been the play where I was like, I've seen enough of my friends' community theater productions, I'm not doing this anymore. [laughter] Not to say that it was bad! I just don't remember anything.

Sunny: I get it.

Joe: I liked it this time around. I also watched it in chunks, over the course of like four days. But it was easy to break it up. I actually accidentally paused it right before the intermission at one point, so when I popped it up again, there were twenty seconds till the intermission started. So it worked out well.

Sunny: Sure.

Joe: I... don't like musicals. Well no, I don't want to say I don't like them. I definitely am frustrated with the idea of adapting this thing that works very well on stage, into a movie. Despite the fact of what happened for me for Fiddler on the Roof in person, and I don't remember it—in general, when I go to see musicals in person, in the theater, I very much enjoy it. I think it's impressive that people are doing this on stage.

Sunny: There's something about the presence, and being in the presence, that elevates it, for sure.

Joe: Movies just can't capture that theater magic.

Sunny: It's a screen! Even with the movie magic.

Joe: It is a different type of magic, I think. And maybe that's why I'm not doing a Theater Club.

Sunny: Not yet, anyway!

Joe: I don't have the money for it. You can't steal a musical. I can't sneak into every Broadway show.

Sunny: But they're just giving away opera tickets now.

Joe: That's true! Opera Club. Coming soon to the blog. What else you got? Anything specific you want to talk about with this movie?

Sunny: Yeah. So I didn't know anything about it. I mean, just for the reader's sake, since they can't see us right now—we are eating at Laser Wolf in Fishtown. [laughter] Joe is in full kippah and tzitzit, and I brought [Editor's note: Sunny is more hip with the lingo than I am, I don't know what words he's using here] from home. I'm wearing a [Editor's note: see above].

Joe: I guess I had heard that what Laser Wolf was named after.

Sunny: That was the most I knew about this musical before watching it. [laughter]

Joe: It's a good name. A good reference.

Sunny: A great name for a restaurant. An okay name for a man and butcher.

Joe: I was glad that the movie didn't lean into the idea of Lazar Wolf being spurned by Tevye. They fought about it, but it was comedic that they were fighting over it. I think in a worse movie, that would've been the driving conflict.

Sunny: I mean, it would've been nice to see him find love I guess. But whatever. It's tough for Lazar.

Joe: I think... well, two parts. One, I think the idea of arranged marriages is interesting in pop culture. I don't have any personal experience with that type of culture that participates in that. You may have, with your ancestors?

Sunny: For sure.

Joe: And I only feel confident enough in bringing this up because of Yaadein.

Sunny: [laughter] Of course! It's a major plot point!

Joe: Yeah! It's like, here's a more modern movie—comparatively so—that is dealing with arranged marriages in a kind of similar way.

Sunny: Now that you bring it up... Yaadein is definitely the Indian Fiddler on the Roof.

Joe: Was that designed to be that way?

Sunny: I have no fucking idea. [laughter] Well, I think every Bollywood film is like that. Like 60% of them. It's the Hallmark movie version of Indian film. Because these ideas are so ingrained. But yeah, I definitely had that feeling of—this movie takes place in 1905, right? So it's two to three generations past... it's funny, Kelsey came home and was like, yeah, one of my college professors put this on, he was Jewish and he really wanted to talk about these characters, and he was like, you know, from my analysis, I only think this one daughter would have survived, because they might have been caught up in the Holocaust, and this that and the other. And she was like, wow, that's so somber. Then, watching the movie, Tevye was like, "We're going to New York City!" And I was like, wait a fucking minute... What was that guy talking about? Was he watching the same movie I was watching? [laughter]

Joe: Interesting!

Sunny: So yeah, they go to New York in 1910, right before the Roaring '20s, and then the Depression. Assuming they made it through that, which they probably would, just kinda squeaked it out in New York City. The oldest daughter would've come up with her kids in the '30s. Those kids would be of age in like the '50s. And so those kids would be Boomers. So you're thinking like four or five generations to today. It scans to me that that level of tradition—it took me a while to get to the point that this movie is both positing tradition as good and as something that should be kept together, and also sending it up and being realistic that the center cannot hold or whatever.

Joe: A major theme, I would say. We can get into it.

Sunny: Over five generations, I know very few people Jewish people who directly relate to this. In college I had a couple friends who for whatever reason I integrated with in the Russian-Jewish community, and even of them, maybe one in ten were very traditional, like "don't do anything on Sabbath," or have arranged or semi-arranged marriages, or at least matchmakers. Which I find interesting. I feel like the Indians are only two or three generations removed from it, so it's a little refresher. Which is maybe why Yaadein's a '90s movies as opposed to a '70s movie.

Joe: I'll be honest, I don't know anything about the history of arranged marriages. Is it prevalent throughout the majority of history?

Sunny: Yeah, I mean even something like Game of Thrones, right? In Anglo-Saxon times, even more so, with arranged marriages and the interbreeding of cousins and stuff, the Habsburgs and things? I'm not a historical expert, but from a materialist point of speculating, that after a while, after the accumulation of wealth and power became a thing, that it made sense to collectivize and formalize that through marriages and bloodlines. So marriage became very much a tool for that. And then over time, that became less important, and I think this movie brings it up, that there needs to be some other reason to get married then. So they're playing around with the idea of love. The movie focuses on the idea of "Did God create that love that facilitates marriage," or at least like togetherness and mating, with the lack of wealth and money exchange. And at the very start of the movie, in one of their songs, it mentions, wow, I have five daughters and none of them have a dowery. This sucks! And that's an interesting perspective to come at it, but a real perspective.

Joe: And I appreciate how they went to the other end of it, Tevye did anyway, where he starts realizing the role of love in marriage. And then he asks his wife, through song, do you love me?

Sunny: That was a tender scene.

Joe: I appreciated thinking about arranged marriages in that way. In that it's like any other relationship, friendship, anything that you would have with someone else. The circumstances in which it starts are less important than what happens when you keep going. So, we talk about, in our current culture, love at first sight. That's not necessarily the case in the vast majority of relationships, even with people who eventually fall in love and get married. You might have a spark, you might be coworkers for years, and that relationship blossoms into something. I thought that was interesting, thinking about relationships in general. How arranged marriages could work in that context.

Sunny: I agree completely. When you think about the Greeks—they're big and gay, right? They had, I don't know how many, six or eight or ten different words for "love," to characterize that there are all these different things. There's infatuation, versus whatever comes from marriage, versus friendship, versus the love of a father to a child, whatever. And I think that nuance is talked about a little bit in this movie, I think that nuance is lost in your Hallmark movies in the West. In the same way that every Indian movie is about arranged marriage, whether that's interesting or not, every Hallmark movie is the same, in that it's about them "coming home" or whatever. Me, Sam, and Pat saw the History of Concrete movie, [and in it, John Wilson] goes and watches a seminar about those Hallmark movies, and they're like "Yeah, these are cookie-cutter! This are how it works." Even the lady says, "This is not art. This is for money, this is to deliver a certain product."

Joe: But Fiddler on the Roof is not.

Sunny: Right, I think it's playing with some different ideas! It's not a Hallmark cookie-cutter movie. To me, I was worried that it was going to be an overly chastising nod to conservative values and how that's better. But actually, I don't think it was. It played both sides pretty fairly, and did a send-up of a lot of things.

Joe: It starts with talking about tradition, you mentioned that. They set that up as the theme, because maybe Tevye spends the whole movie starting to question tradition. Not explicitly, but the tradition of marriage, he's questioned in a bunch of different ways, to the point where it kind of breaks him with the third child. I would also argue that the conclusion of it, where they have to leave their home, is technically breaking tradition too. Against their will, obviously. But it's something that they have to accept, that they can't continue this tradition, with the Rabbi crying in the synagogue because they can't continue. The community is going to continue their tradition of religion as they see it, but a piece of that tradition is ruined. Overall, I think that the film is making the case that tradition is made to be questioned. And just that. Not that it's meant to be broken, because there are traditions that—

Sunny: That they are useful in ways, yeah. But I think "question" is exactly the right word. As opposed to dogmatically following them.

Joe: I would have assumed that Tevye would be that person, so I was surprised that he was eventually willing to consider other points of view.

Sunny: Yeah, the movie did a good setup of, what's his name, Perchik, the Communist rabblerouser from the big city, and the rest of the villagers are the foil to him, doing the conservative thing. And then you're right, Tevye is a surprising person who was able to see around. I guess partly because his daughters, and his love for his daughters.

Joe: Which in itself is a tradition. An important one, that families are supposed to love each other, and look out for each other. That's a tradition that he's able to hold onto. I dunno, all that stuff, thinking about that, and ignoring the whole "oh now we have ten minutes of people dancing..." It's the story itself that was worth watching.

Sunny: Agreed!

Joe: I put words to this recently, that I'm driven in my opinion on movies because of the story. The movies we watch in Film Club, I'm focused on the story, as opposed to the filmmaking itself. I'm still so weak in that, because I don't focus on it. Was there anything in the filmmaking that stood out to you, maybe a particular shot, this scene, or whatever, as opposed to the story?

Sunny: I mean, it did set a sense of place. This did feel like a turn-of-last-century tiny Jewish village. As it went through the seasons and customs, those felt well-recreated. Without a lot of special effects or extras. Closer to the fashion of theater, but it did work well on screen.

Joe: It's definitely being shot on... what do you call that, when it's not on a set...

Sunny: On location?

Joe: Yes! At the time it was made—I forget when this movie was made, early '70s?—the time period was just ending of movies like... Ben-Hur, what was that, the late '50s? A big, sweeping epic that was clearly on a soundstage. I feel like it was nice that a musical, which is originally on a stage, that it felt very natural to be outside. In a natural location.

Sunny: Agree completely. Just because it's not in my wheelhouse, I can't comment on costumes, choreography, singing and dancing. Good enough? But am I going to say it's amazing? I wouldn't be able to. I liked some of the bits and some of the songs. Some were totally, totally overdone. Like, "here's an easy thing to cut out." But I had no idea that the Gwen Stefani song, that it was ripping off Tevye?!

Joe: [laughter] I guess I did recognize that song from this. What was the name of that song?

Sunny: "Rich Girl"? I think she's covering another song from someone else, which is heavily sampling this song, "If I Were a Rich Man."

Joe: The songwriters of this song here, I wonder if they got credits.

Sunny: They to had to have. [Editor's note: Okay, so "Rich Man" by Gwen Stefani is a remake of the 1993 song "Rich Girl" by Louchie Lou & Michie One, which in turn interpolates "If I Were a Rich Man." Jerry Bock and Sheldon Harnick wrote the Tevye version, and they indeed gets a songwriting credits on Stefani's song.]

Joe: I don't like that. One of my least favorite songs in the past ten years is "7 Rings" by Ariana Grande, because they, ya know, with the Rodgers and Hammerstein whatever. The Sound of Music!

Sunny: The carnivalization of America.

Joe: I don't like it. I don't like it in pop music.

Sunny: Not one of my favorite things, no.

Joe: Do you think it's easy to sympathize with the characters in this movie?

Sunny: I think I can sympathize with Tevye pretty quickly, despite... yeah, not empathize though, I can't imagine being a poor, Jewish milkman with five daughters, right? But his situation felt real. And his constant bargaining with god felt earned, and real. Just from a play-development standpoint, I appreciated that in the start, he was very explicit, like, "Yeah, I'm talking to you, God. I'm complaining." And by the middle of the movie, he's sort of staring into the distance, no vocal track, nothing. And you know what he's doing!

Joe: It's definitely a good way to... fuck, what's the phrase, when you provide information directly to the audience? What's that called? I'll look it up. I'll pretend I knew it.

Sunny: We'll get it in post.

Joe: It was a good way to do... that. Fuck! What is that called? You're not supposed to do it, in good storytelling.

Sunny: Show, not tell? Not sure if there's an actual name for it.

Joe: I'm just blanking under the pressure. But, it was a good way to do it, talking to god. As opposed to, like, just talking out loud on the stage for artistic reasons. [Editor's note: I think the word I was looking for was "exposition"?] With the sympathy stuff, I think it's very easy to sympathize with oppressed people.

Sunny: Yeah, for sure.

Joe: In art, entertainment. I don't think you have to empathize with the specifics of Tevye's life. That to know what that community is going through. That there is an oppressive force that is giving them no choice but to leave their home, or die. I... won't dig too deep into it, but I was thinking about it within the framework of the Jewish faith, and how this movie would also play very well to a Palestinian audience too. It's not that they can empathize with the details of the faith, because they have a different faith. But they can sympathize with being told by a government agency, I guess, that they have to do things they don't want to do. That they have to leave their home. So I don't know! It might be interesting to get certain takes from people on it, and whether some people has different takes on it, on being able to empathize with Jewish characters. I'll leave it there.

Sunny: Alright!

Joe: That's what was on my mind.

Sunny: It's hard to avoid it. It's hard not to think about it.

Joe: You got anything else about this movie?

Sunny: Yeah, so what's the deal with the fiddler?

Joe: Hmm. Okay. I... don't know.

Sunny: [laughter]

Joe: That's one. Two, anything I can speculate about it would be me doing the whole bullshitting thing based on something saying something already.

Sunny: At least you'd be saying something.

Joe: Okay, I don't remember the exact opening, when the fiddler was introduced, but I believe it was something like—maybe Tevye was talking to god?—and he was like, our lives are like the fiddler, where we try to stay optimistic, basically. This is a symbol of our resilience, in our poor, humble lives. So that when there are difficult situations, like being told that the Russian czar is gonna be cracking down, or he's already cracked down and now you're leaving town, the fiddler is gonna be there to remind you, in a symbolic, emotional sense, that life goes on, and there are still good things, that the fiddler will be playing there in New York, when you go to live with the uncle.

Sunny: Yeah, but they'll have a naked fiddler there.

Joe: [laughter] Exactly. So that's, gun to my head... that's not an original thought, I know.

Sunny: It's as good as anything I got.

Joe: You're right, though, that that's important about, if that's the name of the movie.

Sunny: I guess I just thought that, based on the name of the movie, it would be a more important character. But he's sort of hanging out.

Joe: Did he exist?

Sunny: Right! Is he real? Maybe that's my real question. Does anyone else see him, or just Tevye?

Joe: I would assume no. I tried to make that argument in the Candyman Zoom, and no one was into it. [laughter] So I don't want to lean to hard on that again. But, like, he doesn't talk, right?

Sunny: Nope. He's just fiddling. No one else even looks at him or addresses him. Even though he's fiddlin' when they're all fiddlin' away. Fiddlin' to America.

Joe: He doesn't exist.

Sunny: Put it there.

Joe: Completely symbolic.

Sunny: And the roof is symbolic too...

Joe: Oh, and what would you grade this?

Sunny: Ehhh... 3.5.

Joe: I buy that. I'll stick with 3.5 pukes out of 5 too. That's usually the "I enjoyed watching this, enjoyed pulling some themes out of it, but didn't feel any of the elation that the true movie magic."

Sunny: Yeah, it didn't feel too deep. Not trying to cue it up again.

Joe: Okay, so.... Barbara Jean.

Sunny: Yeah.

Joe: Let's tap in.

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Please come back tomorrow for the second half of our conversation, which is centered around a sitcom character from Reba, but also continuously ties in additional thoughts about Fiddler on the Roof. I'll update this sentence with a hyperlink once Part II is published!

NEXT TIME: Excited for another Linklater film, this time A Scanner Darkly, coming to you in only a couple days.

Never Seen It #344: House Party

Yeah, I did it, I watched 500 movies I've never seen before, I might cry two tears in a bucket. Fuck it. Let's take it to the blog.

House Party

1990

Reginald Hudlin

Thanks to all those who watched House Party and shared their thoughts! Check them out below, and meet us in the comments to discuss some more.

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Sunny

How much more can one say about a movie wherein the climactic scene has the hero freestyle rapping to avoid being anally raped in a county jail holding cell by some big big guys? Riveting, groundbreaking, and fiercely unapologetic (except about a handful of things, like drugs, alcohol, and teenage pregnancy, that it's pretty apologetic about), House Party captures a real youth moment and the greater culture surrounding it. This is a culture I have never been a part of, and I leave this tale really with as many questions as answers. That said, I also yukked it up at several scenes and gags, some of the character bits are good (Martin Lawrence is here! Tisha Campbell is here! The late great John Witherspoon is here!), and we clock in at 100 min. What a strange ride 2.5/5

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Sam

We've watched several African American boys coming-of-age stories in this project (Juice, Cooley High, Love & Basketball), and this is playing in the same sandbox. But the calibration on seriousness v. fun here tips way in the favor of fun and results in an iconic romp.

That's not to say that House Party fails to grapple with real problems. Race-based policing, red-lining in housing, cyclical neighborhood violence, and general economic inequality are dealt with. As are combating stereotypes—note the (cranky) but positive male Black father figures, the booksmart Christopher, and the apparent chastity and social responsibility around sex. But that's against a backdrop to jokes about bad breath, whacky haircuts, and cranky neighbors. 

The "one crazy night" set-up works well just to get everyone moving. And that's a vehicle for Kid and Play (credited as an entity!) to have a pretty OK rap battle as well as a very awesome dance battle with Tisha Campbell and A.J. Johnson. That dance scene was the highlight of the movie for me and really captures a moment in time.

It was also funny to see Martin Lawrence and Campbell in the same movie but not as a couple. We'd have to wait a few years for Bilal to find his Gina.

My critique is that the film is a little too basic—not a lot really happens. And the actual actors are way better than Kid 'n Play. But I like fun. So I'll give it 4 eraserheads out of 5.

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Allison

House Party is one of those films that was on Comedy Central all the time in the '90s and '00s, but I never stopped to watch it. I was expecting something in the vein of Porky's or Revenge of the Nerds—a raunchy, heavy-handed comedy aimed at boys that made me roll my eyes. Instead, House Party was surprisingly chaste for a rated-R teen (and we're using that term incredibly loosely) comedy. No nudity, no sexual hijinks, no explicit drug use, and only one person at the titular house party gets drunk. And it's a guy. And they take care of him and make sure he gets home alright. Wholesome! Another notably touching moment is Kid's exchange at the end with Play and Bilal about consent and contraception. Unexpected but oddly poignant. And incredibly timely and relevant, as the AIDS crisis disproportionately affected the black community. Message!

Other things I enjoyed:

• The dancing! Kid 'n Play may not be exactly strong leading men, but they put on a good show.
• Tisha Campbell. No further comment.
• The very beefy bullies played by the hip-hop group Full Force. They swung wildly between silly hapless goons and would-be arsonists, but that was fun. You couldn't tell if they were going to give you a wedgie or full-on murder you. I loved the look of the cut-off sweatshirt.
• The way Sydney's dad called the cops "fascists." A brief thought on the police presence in the film. They didn't wield much control in the community despite being ever-present. They were mostly a nuisance.  

What I could have done without:

• The homophobic anti-gang-rape rap scene that I don't care to write about.

In the end, I was mostly entertained, but it wasn't really that funny, and it struggled to hold my attention. I think I needed more hijinks.

2.5 servings of Dick Gregory

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Chelsea

Something to know about me: the only thing I love more than a dance-off is a rap battle. Needless to say, I was utterly charmed by this film. 

This movie is So. Much. Fun. The pace and plot are kind of loose and feel almost improvisational, and the film manages to balance about a dozen supporting characters so deftly that it has a little bit of a Diet Altman vibe. For me, it's an instant classic (if such a thing can be said about a 36-year-old movie) of the teen party genre, movies which tend to be excellent time capsules in a way few other genres are, for better and worse. (There are some R-bombs and F-slurs, but also my god, THE OUTFITS. Sharane is an icon.) There are so many absolutely bonkers quotable lines; I wrote down about twelve in the first 20 minutes before I gave up, but suffice to say from now on I will be using "Aw man, my rhymes!" any time I lose or forget something.

Robin Harris (who unforgettably played Sweet Dick Willy in Do the Right Thing the year prior) is a stone cold delight as Kid's dad. Sometimes the whole movie would kind of halt just to cut to him doing something unrelated (like fixing a fan) because everything out of his mouth was ridiculous. (Sad trivia fact: this movie came out nine days before he passed away. R.I.P. to a legend.) There are some real charismatic standouts here in Martin Lawrence, Tisha Campbell (they would later be reunited on Martin!), and Daryl "Chill" Miller (who would go on to play the English teacher in 10 Things I Hate About You, arguably a teen party classic in its own right). And George Clinton's cameo as a DJ is absolute perfection. 

All that said, it's not a perfect movie by any means. There are some pretty unusual editing choices, and Kid's performance vacillates between awkward/charming and awkward/very strange (although his rhymes are indeed excellent). And of course, there is the incredibly weird rap interlude during which Kid uses his rhymes to... distract a group of hardened criminals from gang raping him in a local jail's holding cell? Such a bizarre tonal misstep and also very very silly ("we're gonna tie your fade into a ponytail" raps one of the criminals during the number). Fortunately, the power of rap prevails and Kid escapes unharmed, leaving us all to collectively wonder what the hell we just watched. 

However, in spite of that absolutely unhinged moment, I was completely won over by the end. It has a scrappy, good-natured, freestyle energy (befitting a movie about aspiring rappers) that I found pretty irresistible. I'll say 3.5 out of 5 stars (an extra half star for dousing Reagan's portrait in Jell-O in the opening food fight scene) and leave you with one of my favorite zingers from the film: "Go home and bring me two bean pies and a pork chop sandwich, you little trout-mouthed heathen!" 

Thanks again for introducing me to this one! Such a blast!

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Joe

I know the Linklater film isn't until next week, but I did feel that some of his best films (Dazed and Confused, Everybody Wants Some!!) shared a kinship with House Party in one specific way. Yes, the plot involved kids and parties and young love and all that stuff, but the crucial similarity I saw was the way that the stakes were purposefully lowered to create realism. In the same way that the keg at the Moontower ended simply because there was no more beer, the titular party of House Party ended because the home's upstairs toilet wasn't working anymore. A lesser movie would've allowed the bullies to burn down the house. (In fact, it can probably be seen as a meta-commentary on the "teen party" subgenre, that the other bullies didn't like the fire plan and were like "yo, that's going way too far.")

The realism worked in both directions. The drama felt very grounded and real, but the potential heartfelt moments were held at bay as well, because they similarly would've felt too exaggerated. Like, okay, I have been primed to expect, after so many other movies of this ilk, that Kid was going to get home and have a genuine heart-to-heart with his father, about growing up and responsibilities and the love they share despite their differences. Instead, his dad has a belt, and the ending credits roll as Kid gets corporally punished. That felt was more realistic! No teen is breaking that many household rules and then sneaking back home in the middle of the night to be met with a heartfelt moment. That only happens in the movies!

If we are making the argument that this was a great movie because of how real it felt, then we need to acknowledge how discomforting the racial tension and violence was throughout. I felt it particularly in two scenes. The first was when Kid and the bullies were being held by the white cops at gunpoint, and the victims of Kid's hijinks refused to press charges, because they knew exactly what that would entail for the youngsters ("they need discipline, not solitary confinement!"). The second was when those same white cops caught the bullies trying to start a fire, and... took them down to the docks to beat the shit out of them? I felt like the party guests in the aftermath of that. They need discipline, not illegal assaults by a bunch of fucking cops!

But my point here is that it's been noted by many people who were young and Black in the late '80s and early '90s that House Party was an accurate representation of their lived experience at that time (for example, Philadelphia 76er Lebron James, who produced the 2023 remake based on how much he and his friends loved the original back in the day), and if that's true, then there are some pretty heinous societal injustices that are being noted as accurate. I don't think anyone watching the film has a responsibility to take action based on what you see here. It's not that kind of movie. The responsibility is only to acknowledge that this movie is the truth, in incredible ways and horrific ways.

Mostly incredible ways, though. As someone who used to throw house parties all the time, I saw so much of my former self in Play. House parties were not how they are portrayed in teen comedies. The house is never destroyed. You're not grappling over the fact that your mother's precious heirloom was shattered on the ground and you're gonna be "so dead" when they get home. Teens, by and large, are not assholes. They're just trying to have a nice time at a party. No one is malicious, and if they are, you just don't let them in, simple as that. Play had the trust in his friends needed to throw this house party successfully. One friend got a little too drunk, but he got home safely. Kid's dad showed up and stopped the party briefly with some quips, but then he left and the party continued. The toilet broke, and Play was upset, but let's be real, it was most likely an accident, and he's easily gonna fix that thing before his parents return.

I loved the way that the movie refused to kowtow to the hyperbole that this genre of film typically calls for. It was more relatable, and it was certainly more enjoyable. I just think it's rare when a movie upends expectations by underplaying it. By portraying the type of shit I used to see all the time back in the day, the film ends up showing the type of shit that I very rarely see accurately portrayed in movies. Even the interpersonal drama felt so fucking low-key and thus accurate. There was mild drama between Sydney and Sharane, over who was going to hook up with Kid. Sharane said that Sydney could have him if she was able to hook up with him on the walk home. When Sydney does just that, and tells Sharane, Sydney gives her this perfect look that says "you said you weren't gonna start shit, so are you gonna start shit or what?" And then Sharane sighs and admits defeat and solidifies the friendship and avoids all the maudlin eyeroll-worthy teen drama that would typically spawn from here in a much worse movie.

Two moments broke this rule of groundedness. I understand why both of them exist—because this movie is starring the '80s rap duo Kid 'n Play, of course you're gonna have them perform in the movie. Only one of the two in-movie performances was successful though. The rap and dance sequence at the party itself was joyful, and, though less believable than the rest of the occurrences at the teen house party, it still maintained the air of innocence that pervades the entire film. Just two friends having fun and goofing off! The other one was the song about prison rape. Much less enjoyable, and probably the only part of the film that has aged poorly. I'm coping by pretending that this is a fantasy sequence in the warped mind of a dumbass teenager.

Oh, and I wasn't a huge fan of the mid-credits sequence with the racist cops meeting their demise. Not that they didn't deserve it, and not that contemporaneous audiences didn't earn some payoff with that real and ugly strain of racism they had to endure from these white cops. It still felt out of place. It was very purposefully not real (the roof that is blown off the house in the opening credits is the thing that lands on them), which goes against everything that makes House Party an amazingly real film in the first place.

I'm not too concerned. I'm walking away from this movie knowing full well why it's considered a classic. I consider it a classic now too. House parties happen all the time, and it's so rare that they are shown with any sort of accuracy in a movie. House Party nailed it.

GRADE: 4 pukes out of 5

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sean G.

I watched House Party and had a LOT of fun with it. Not gonna get you a proper review, I had to leave town. But I’ll give you a score. Make it 4 pukes. I really enjoyed it. Worth linking to this Criterion write-up in the comments or along with my score.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

GROUP AVERAGE GRADE: 3.417 pukes out of 5

Grab all your DJing equipment and meet us in the comments!

(NEXT TIME: Joe and Sunny discuss Fiddler on the Roof for a very special reason.)

(til) DEATH #30: "No More Mr. Vice Guy"

A review of S02E08 of the American sitcome 'Til Death.

He sat in the back corner, the farthest away from the big boss as possible. Thomas "Tommy" Bines had no intention of making himself known at the meeting by speaking or being conspicuous in any way. It backfired immediately when the big boss rolled into the "good morning... I said good morning!" bit that big bosses like doing, and when the second response was still lackluster he looked to the back and said "Tommy, can you hear me?" because he was all the way in the back. The ensuing "getting to know [your new big boss" PowerPoint slide made no mention of music, and so we can probably safely assume that big boss was not making an intention reference to the Who's rock opera.

But that PowerPoint made a few other things perfectly clear, clearer than they had been even before, when Tommy tried to escape this big boss's chain of command but accidentally got promoted into another chain of command at the same time that big boss was getting promoted and swallowing that chain along with the promotion, so that he was still here, still at these godforsaken meetings, still sitting in the back corner praying he would be ignored while big boss boomed bullshit. Tommy knew how he operated. All talk in public, weaselly snickering in the shadows. There's no way around any of it. His presence loomed too large. His ego was like a black hole, all dense and pulling at everything around it constantly.

Tommy couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand any of it, any of these fucking people. The big boss and the little bosses, they all represented everything that sucked about this fucking job. But there was a chain of command and he listened to it because he needed the paycheck, and so he sat in the room and listened to big boss and his minions crack inside jokes and all the while Tommy fumed and wished he were anywhere else but here. He looked out the window and saw a pigeon stare at him then hop backward off the ledge and hit the wind mid-drop, soaring away, to somewhere, parts unknown, in a way that made Tommy jealous.

Big boss was still talking about his history as a person, his alma mater, his slow climb through the ranks, making sure to underline how he deserves this, how he worked hard and cares deeply about the game. Tommy wasn't denying that. It's easy to care. You have to be inhuman not to care, and Tommy knew that big boss was human. A deeply flawed human, sure, and a vastly annoying one, yeah, but human nonetheless. You can be a human and an asshole at the same time. You can care about what matters but also care about shit that doesn't matter too. It's possible. Here was big boss, proving it every day.

Big boss's existence and modus operandi had a way of holding Tommy accountable, which, when you honestly thing about it, was probably a good thing, though annoying as fuck too. There was an incident a couple years ago when big boss leapfrogged two spots down the chain to call Tommy personally, about some fucking case (Tommy couldn't even remember the specifics), about the kid on the case and how big boss was taking a vested interest in the case for whatever reason, and Tommy froze up when he got the call. It was intimidating, to be at the center of big boss's attention, ain't that the fucking truth.

And Tommy must have said something that rubbed big boss the wrong way. It wasn't clear on the phone call what the issue was. If you had asked Tommy after big boss disconnected the call, Tommy would've shrugged and said that it went well. Except that, two weeks later, Tommy's direct boss (the only good and decent person in this whole goddamn building, thank god, the only person without a great ugly pulsating ego attached to his fucking forehead) whispered to him that word got down to him that big boss had actually taken issue with Tommy's interpretation of the case. Tommy had no fucking idea. This was all through back channels.

But and yet—and this came with a year of relitigating the scenario again and again in his mind as he stood silently in the shower, thinking, thinking—maybe this had a way of strengthening Tommy's skills as a worker, too. Because that whole fucking thing that happened with that particular case, it never happened again under Tommy's watch. He knew that protocol like the back of his fucking hand, just in case big boss ever leaptfrog down the chain of command again and called Tommy and asked him. He would be ready with answers, would be ready to deny big boss the pleasure of talking shit behind closed doors.

Big boss was yapping about some nonsense up there, sans microphone and only two out of every three words intelligible, and Tommy started daydreaming a little bit, thinking about that time that big boss had burned him, and also thinking about the episode of television he had seen the night before, and how this particular episode of the American sitcome Til Death felt relevant. The tall guy, what's his name, uh, you know, the dude from that 2018 movie Gloria Bell, um, Dustin I think his name was? Dustin and the piefucking guy are teachers at the same school, Tommy recalled, and suddenly piefucker becomes principal, and starts "asserting himself," and ends up suspending Dustin Bell from his teaching position because Bell is cracking one too many jokes at the teachers meeting.

Tommy wasn't sure how the showrunners were trying to frame it, but Tommy knew how he framed it in his mind. Dustin was wrong. It ultimately didn't matter that piefucker was power-tripping. It was Dustbell's responsibility to know that, and to work around it. He should've known that the teacher's meetings were important, that piefuck had important news to share, stuff that was actually integral to running a good school, not beyond but parallel to the power-tripping thing. Dustel should've known. He should've known!

But and but and but you can also see how this is no way to operate, in the chain-of-command structure. No sane boss acts like this when they get big. And don't you fucking start thinking that he was doing this on purpose, big boss, trying to give "tough love" to Tommy by busting his balls but also ultimately getting the work out of Tommy regardless. The end does not justify the means. Tommy fucked up by not knowing but that's no reason to be a fucking asshole about Tommy not knowing. It might in a perverse way make him a good boss but it unequivocally makes him a bad person. And it's wild that he couldn't see it, fucking wild!

Still... note that Tommy was in the back corner of the room, trying to stay small. Still. And that's because he accepted some core truths, that there were things that he could control and things that he couldn't, and he tried as hard as he could to have the wisdom to know the difference. He knew that there was no changing big boss now. There was nothing he could do. Tommy was at his mercy, always has been, and always would be, at least until big boss retires, which should give Tommy a solid eight years of existence in this agency without boss's looming presence. In the meantime, he's shutting the fuck up, and answering when called upon, and smiling a fake smile, and feeding egos when they need feeding, and shutting the fucking fuck up otherwise. 

Tommy started thinking about the sitcome episode again, and how Dustball's extremely hot wife and the indelible character actress Kat Foster were sitting on the couch sipping wine and bonding over how silly the boys were being, but then eventually came to verbal blows because neither one of them could see the other's POV. Everyone is entrenching in their own worlds because they cannot find the strength to be humble and to consider the possibility that they themselves are wrong in some way. When everyone's wrong and everyone lives in a world that seems hellbent on making everyone feel "right" all the goddamn time, then you're gonna have constant conflict. And Tommy did not want to live this way.

He couldn't live this way. It was untenable. He couldn't live his whole goddamn life thinking he was completely right and big boss was completely wrong. Thinking you're right all the time has a way of creating a toxic acid that eats right through your skin and your bones and your soul. It was healthier being wrong sometimes. And it's functionally more convenient to be wrong sometimes too. He saw the compulsion to be right everywhere around him, and it made Tommy sick. Everyone in this room, that's all they can do is be right, all the time, muttering to themselves about how right they are, without anyone even listening to them. Tommy sees it on the TV, Til Death and otherwise, sitcomes and real life, Dustman and piefucker and all the rest, people just constantly vying for rightness, never admitting wrongness. Tommy saw it in his own family, all up and down the family tree, his only brother especially, god rest his soul, felled at the hands of a compulsion to be right.

The irony of the situation now was that this revelation made Tommy better at his job than he ever was before. In admitting he was wrong, he stood out. In his ability to soothe egos, he rapidly moved up the chain. Years later, a big boss himself, he would remember this moment, right before the meeting in that long-ago room hit its stride, and try to remember what it even felt like to think that he was right. He looked out from the glass window of a wall in his corner office and it all felt wrong, which was, in a way, righter than ever.

GRADE: 5 pukes out of 5

Never Seen It #343: Candyman

The blog, I can assure you, will be exquisite. As for our attempt to watch 500 movies we've never seen before, there is nothing to fear. Our names will be written on a thousand walls. Our crimes told and retold by our faithful believers. We shall die together in front of their very eyes and give them something to be haunted by. Come with me and be immortal.

Candyman

1992

Bernard Rose

Zoom: October 21, 2026, 9 PM to 10 PM

Participants: Allison, Bobby, Brianna, Joe, Sam

Alright, so here's what happens in Candyman (as it was solidified in my brain, mid-Zoom). Helen is doing her research on urban legends. She is intrigued by one in particular. Then she finds out that there is a community near her that actually believes in this legend, and who are attributing real crimes to the supernatural being of Candyman. She does her due diligence and investigates. She goes to the building where he's supposedly killed. She runs across a gang leader who attacks her. She is traumatized. After she is traumatized, she has a nervous breakdown, and, during blackouts, starts to act violently toward others. She beheads a dog, steals a baby, then kills her friend, kills her psychiatrist, and so on. All the time attributing it to Candyman, who she can see now. She, in her trauma, is attributing these real crimes to a supernatural being, same as those who have been traumatized by severe poverty. In the end, she overcomes the adversity of her trauma, and saves the baby. She keeps the legend alive, because the legend is a balm for this community. They pay tribute to her sacrifice at her funeral.

Now, whether you want to view the movie like this is up to you. If you want to view it as a movie about a horror movie villain who kills and frames the protagonist, that's your right. But if you view it that way, you might find a worse movie. An illogical movie. That's what the Zoom discussion ended up being, a discussion about whether this movie made sense. Which is a good thing to talk about! If a movie doesn't make sense, then it's not going to be an enjoyable experience! So maybe my theory about Candyman being not real within the framework of the movie but instead a symptom of Helen's traumatic break, maybe that is just my way of dealing with the trauma of a bad film. I don't know! But, within my own trauma, I am imagining that I liked this movie a lot.

Some other thoughts that we discussed:

• Was it scary? Is scariness the way we judge horror movies? The quantity and quality of jump scares, etc.?
• Was the acting good? Tony Todd was "doing a lot with a little"
• Comparisons to Hellraiser were apt, in terms of what "internal logic" means in horror films
• Allison pointed out the opening lines ("They will say that I have shed innocent blood. What's blood for if not for shedding? With my hook for a hand, I'll split you from your groin to your gullet. I came for you.") and how the first half "hooks" you, and the second half is silly.
• Would it have been more logical to have Candyman's origin story closer to the community that is spotlighted in the narrative?
• This is a story about stories, about a storyteller whose story becomes her.
• Trevor! The infidelity subplot is silly and/or stupid.
• The VHS cover with the bees was evocative, multiple people remember this cover from Blockbuster days (I specifically remember seeing it at Pathmark's video rental section)
• Source material took place in Liverpool, this takes place in Chicago—missing our Chicago friends for this discussion!
• There are multiple sequels, and the 2021 film is NOT a remake, but a direct sequel (screenplay by Jordan Peele)
• There is lasting imagery here, including the bees (the actor actually put the bees in his mouth)
• Is the character of Candyman iconic? You don't see kids dressed up like him for Halloween, simply because you can't (no mask), which might hurt its commercial appeal?
• Do we care about the protagonist?

I'm arguing that we do, but maybe that's because I'm particularly drawn to the idea of storytelling, of urban legends, of talking to people as a profession, that sort of thing. I felt a kinship with the type of person who is going to follow a lead and go talk to people who are living an experience that you are fascinated by. Let's not go to heavy on the score, but I think I'm comfortable with at least a 3.5 pukes out of 5 on this one. A lot to talk about, and, as a storyteller, that drew me to this film's story.

How about you? What did you think? If you weren't at the Zoom, let's chat about it in the comments!

(NEXT TIME: Our first small group of Film Club Q7 takes us to the House Party.)

Shelter from the Storm: Hangin' on the Corner / Party in the Street

Joe is rewriting all his old Xanga posts from 2005 onward, and I think this will probably be the last one.

November 1, 2005, 3:34 PM

It's been a wild ride.

I just feel like something's changed, these past four days. The end of October had a newness to it. Autumn typically signals the end of something, but I feel like, this time, it's just the beginning. And I've loved every minute of it.

I know it won't be like this forever. There will come a time when the autumn of my life arrives, and the summery youth wanes. Today is not that day. Today—this extended holiday weekend, really—has solidified my place in the world, socially and perhaps emotionally as well. I feel a peace, like this is where I'm meant to be. It won't last forever, but in the very best moments, I'm able to trick myself into thinking it will.

Let's look over some of those moments over the past half of a week, turn them over in our hands and examine them, so that we might document and remember, what it felt like to be like this, this right here, in this place, with these people.

On Friday, I hit the town with my favorite platonic pals: Kristin and Cindy and Mary and Keelan. "Hitting the town" means, currently, that we hung out, but we were mobile about it. You don't stay in one place when you're chilling with friends. Instead, you ping-pong around the neighborhood. It's a ritual geared toward the perpetual sense of searching for adventure. You go to this place and that hoping that "something happens." But even when it doesn't, then you still are left with the satisfaction of hanging out and fucking around with your friends all night.

So that's what we did Friday night. We completed the ritual. We searched for adventure, us five. We walked through the woods at Burholme, then continued up Cottman to Wendy's, then all the way up Oxford to Wawa, then continuing up to Four Points to Dunkin. I feel like we've taken this route before. We've traced and retraced steps so many times in this town that I can feel the grooves. Adventure did not find us, but in the absence of something solid, we instead cling to the gaseous sense of adventure, the one that permeates everything we do, no matter how monotonous it might seem to outsiders. The search for adventure becomes the adventure. And we found it well, and intact, and kept it safe and unbroken, fit to be found another day.

On Saturday, I woke up with a motivation to find that other sense of adventure, the solid kind, the one that stays put and sits with you, the kind you can touch and feel and pick up and feel its weight. And there's no better place to find such a thing than Burholme. Instead of passing through like we had done the previous night, I set up camp. Flare guns were aimed at the sky via text message, imploring all those with ways and means to find their way to my party, there in the dark woods.

If I said that only seven people showed up, then maybe you might think I was disappointed. But I wasn't. I could only be disappointed if not a single person showed up to partake in the ritual of underage drinking. Seven! What a gift, to have seven friends in this context. That's a magical number too. Seven has mystical properties, that wasn't lost on me. To share a cold one with seven friends makes one feel like they are one with the universe.

After the limited number of brews were tapped dry, we gave up and let the solid sense of adventure liquify, let it flow down the river of Central Ave., to the bright pink facade of Hunan Wok's. You might not believe it if you're not from around here, but it's easy to picture if you are: there were at least 30 other kids congregated there already, just hanging out. I think what must have happened was that, well, they were searching for adventure too. All of us kids, coming from separate corners of the globe neighborhood, and meeting here.

Coincidentally—that's key. This wasn't planned, this rendezvous. We were here by mistake. But, thinking about it another way, perhaps it was meant to be. If you pump enough molecules into a limited space, then they are all gonna bounce off each other eventually. This night, this glorious, crowded Saturday night, is what happens when you put enough restless kids in one town and set 'em free. They meet up, they bounce off each other, then they disperse into the night.

Sunday? Nothing, nothing to note. Oh, whoops, maybe this ruins the narrative's momentum. Not every day is fun, ya know. We caused our mischief already, no sense of waiting till Mischief Night. Maybe Mischief Night is when I like to relax.

But Monday... ah. Halloween. We're at an in-between time for this holiday, I know it. Too old for candy in pillowcases, too young for open-bar shenanigans at beef and beer halls. So we made the best of it, mainly by pressing against the generational barriers erected on either side of us. Maryrose and I attempted to push toward the younger extreme by doing some "trick-or-treating," which mostly involved knocking on doors whose houses had no lights on, and playing dumb when someone finally answered the door in bathrobes or slippers or night masks (call it a reverse of Ding Dong Ditch, maybe).

And then a few of us tested boundaries in the other direction, acting older than we were, drinking stuff that the judge says we can't drink. You know the story. You've heard this tale so many times on this Xanga. It's to the point where parents are reading it, and they are getting worried. So many questions might arise, such as: what did they drink; how quickly did they drink it; where did they get it; how can we prevent this sort of behavior in the future. I mean, I don't have the answers for you. All I know is that I survived, I tested the limits and I survived to see another day, even if that another day is full of the interior of trash cans and plastic bags that I'm puking into.

Don't be concerned, please. In fact, you should be enthralled, enthused, ecstatic. You, yes you! The kids reading this Xanga post right now! Something fucking crazy is happening in my neighborhood. We're all coming out, out into the street. We're leaving the front door ajar as we flat-foot it across lawns and hop onto bikes and into cars or just keep running. The adventure is now. We are free, out here. There are no parents. There are no worries, no cares. Everything that happens during the daytime? All those restrictions, those anxieties? Tests, homework, jobs, responsibilities, expectations? You can leave it all behind.

It doesn't matter where you are now. What I'm telling you is that you should be here. This is my neighborhood, and it's yours too. Take the trip. Hang out with me this weekend. Don't be bored. Find adventure, and find it here. Give me a call, and we'll paint the town red.

Comments

VinylVixen89: If you supply the paint, I'll bring the brushes.

Anonymous: I had a dream last night I met Paul Simon after the show and we were hanging out at his place drinking whiskey. It was a werid dream I must say. Early this morning I were at the coffee shop with my cousin, she said to me that I should make a new website since my old website got shut down because the credit card wasn't working right for some reason.

I love you,

Justin "The Only One" Barrett

Book Club Review and Discussion: Deliver Me from Nowhere: The Making of Bruce Springsteen's Nebraska by Warren Zanes

Thank you for allowing me this particular indulgence on the blog. Hopefully it's an easy one to skip, if you don't like to read and/or identify as female. This is PoYB's quarterly check in on Boys/Beers/Breakfast/Book Club, which, as of this publishing time (9:30 AM on 10/17/26), is convening for their 32nd meeting. I think I do it this way for two reasons. The first is that I find that documenting the art and entertainment that I engage with and document too my thoughts on it has a way of helping me remember that it happened at all. So much bullshit passes through our brains, and it's hard to remember the book or the album or the movie you read/heard/watched a couple months ago, let alone years ago. The second is that it's an easy reference for me during the book discussion, having my thoughts organized like this. So thanks. And if you identify as male or non-binary and can read and want to be part of our book club, hit me up!

spoilers for the book below!!!

So I'll want to talk about the music too, which is tricky. Tricky because I feel like I'm gonna get called out on it. We've read books that have been adapted into movies and TV shows, and I usually get pretty defensive about this being a BOOK club, and can we please not talk about the fucking crime detective TV show that the author had a hand in creating, please, this isn't a TV club it's a book club, etc. etc. But this is different, right? The book is about the music. You can't talk about the book without talking about the music. You are gonna react to the book differently depending on how you originally reacted to the music (or if you reacted to the music at all, which will be interesting to hear, if someone doesn't listen to Bruce Springsteen but read this book). It's baked right in.

My Springsteen opinions are numerous and they are already on this blog. My opinion of the book is that it did a great job at continuing the discussion as it was already happening in my head. I love thinking about music and so I loved reading a book written by someone who clearly loves thinking about music too. The basic thing that you can ask from this is that it gives you a different perspective on something you already knew and already had an opinion on. If it adds something new or changes how you think even slightly, then it's a success. I have never been the biggest fan of Nebraska, but I've always liked it (it's Springsteen, after all). I think I like it slightly more than I did before, but I appreciate it way more than I did prior to reading this book about it. That's the important part.

I love a good deep dive on a specific album, and the author here did a fantastic job at doing that. Deep dives usually go in both directions at once: inward and outward. What about the artist informed the art, and what about the art informs the audience. I thought both threads were easy to follow. I thought the best parts of the book were when these two paths intersected. E.g. when we hear from a few other musicians about their take on Nebraska (Steve Earle, etc.), and we are specifically asked, where was Bruce Springsteen while all his fans were being impacted by his album? Then it whips around and talks about the aftermath for the artist, and how it contrasted with the reaction from everyone else.

The reason I liked this book is that it didn't just tell me about an album. It told me about the world that I inhabit, through the lens of an album and the artist who made it. I think ultimately the author wants you to take the book out of the equation and think about the album as a way to connect with the world at large, and connect with yourself as you exist within that world. I don't know if I'm there yet with this album, but I appreciate Warren Zanes holding my hand and trying to get me there. 

GRADE: 4 pukes out of 5 (everything about music gets a higher grade)

Discussion Questions

1. The book makes the argument that a song's greatest power is the ability to think about and talk about it afterward. Do you feel this way about Nebraska? Springsteen in general? Other music? None of the above?

2. Interesting to hear Springsteen talk about himself as "alienated," and the art as a way to combat that. Are all artists condemned to feel lonely?

3. Did the book do a good job handling the influences of this album? Like, was the discussion of Badlands handled appropriately, or did it distract?

4. Was the idea of making the demos into the actual album without changing it a good idea? Was it the defining idea that the book made it out to be?

5. I have to imagine that the movie that's based on this book made a huge fucking deal about Springsteen's relationship with his father, but it's not really touched on here at all. Most of that was touched on in Bruce's autobiography anyway. It feels weird to me that the movie would do that, to miss the point of this album being Bruce escaping himself, considering these characters to be their own thing and not some way to deal with the pain. Or were they? I dunno, I would be asking for general thoughts on the relationship between the artist and their family, their art, and their audience.

6. What do we make of the thesis that Nebraska is about the failure of the American dream? I thought this quote was good: "The American dream was always a brand that was sold to us."

7. I felt a kinship with Springsteen when they were talking about how he is weary of big hit songs because they distract from the album as a singular piece of art. I've always said that! What are your thoughts? And don't you think it's funny that Born in the U.S.A. sidesteps this issue by simple virtue of having so many hit songs on it that that becomes the entirety of the album instead of the distraction?

8. Are the other characters in this book served well? I'm talking about Jon Landau, Chuck Plotkin, etc.? Or is this the Bruce show?

9. I appreciated all the discussion about critical reaction to this album too. I liked the theory that Nebraska made it easy for critics to buy in, right before the commercial liftoff of Born in the U.S.A. I wonder what you, an amateur music critic (by virtue of being a member of this blog, whether you like it or not!), think about this theory, and what you might think about music criticism in general, and its role in music?

10. Is there a difference between being a songwriter and being a performer? I thought the comparison to James Brown was an interesting one, in this context. Lots of great comparison littered throughout this book. Springsteen/Landau as Lewis/Clark was another good one. Oh, and Springsteen's creation of Nebraska being his Odyssey!

Never Seen It #342: Planes, Trains and Automobiles

You wanna hurt me? Go right ahead if it makes you feel any better. I'm an easy target. Yeah, you're right, I talk too much. I also listen too much. I could be watching 500 movies I've never seen before... but I don't like to hurt people's feelings. Well, you think what you want about me; I'm not changing. I like... I like me. My wife likes me. My blog likes me. 'Cause I'm the real article. What you see is what you get.

Planes, Trains and Automobiles

1987

John Hughes

If I were to draw a conclusion from my ambivalence (at best) regarding the actor Steve Martin, i.e. why I tend to not like art and entertainment that he appears in, or maybe just specifically his appearance and role in said art and entertainment, then I'd probably say that I don't like when characters are assholes for no reason. It's actually pretty easy to find a good reason, a motivation, for a character to be an asshole, so it annoys me when we're supposed to just accept when a character is an asshole for no reason. You'll recall where this all started—my confusion at Steve Martin's bit part in The Muppet Movie, one of the warmest and funniest movies of all time, in which Steve Martin appears as a random waiter with a stick up his ass for literally no reason other than the fact that it's supposed to be "funny" that he's an asshole. It makes total sense that, as it turns out, Steve Martin had that role and played it that way simply because he's good at playing the asshole-without-motivation. He filmed his small role in The Muppet Movie around the same time he was filming his starring role in The Jerk, and was probably just playing the same character. If you need a 90-minute explanation as to why I hate characters like this, subject yourself to The Jerk. The least funny movie of all time, and the lack of logic behind the titular Jerk's behavior is what I believe to be the reason why.

All that to say... Planes, Trains and Automobiles managed to find a thoroughly believable logic for Steve Martin's character's behavior, and because of this, it instantly becomes the best role I've ever seen him in. Low barrier to clear, but he does it. Martin's Neal Page is an asshole, but it makes sense that he acts in asshole-ish ways. He is established as a stickler for rules, and he lives in a world where everyone else is breaking those rules. He is drawn as an independent person, and he spends the entire movie tied to someone else and more or less responsible for them. He is a family man just trying to get home to his wife and kids, and no one else seems to give a fuck about this core value. I feel a kinship with many of Page's emotions throughout the film. The frustration is valid! I definitely understand the pain of having to take a hellish commute home and lose precious time with my kids! Neal Page is an asshole, but his asshole nature is acutely logical.

The logic behind a story is more important to me than whether that story is "funny" or not, just to warn you. I thought there were plenty of moments in Planes, Train and Automobiles that were funny, but nothing laugh-out-loud funny. I often feel this way about comedies that are 30 or 40 years old. It's like the jokes aren't as sharp or something. This is something the Never Seen It series has gone over probably too many times, my feelings on the subject, but my point now is to say that the number of times I laughed during this film isn't really connected to how much I appreciated the film. There's a reason that, when you ask people about Planes, Trains and Automobiles, the often start with the ending, which is designed to be heartwarming, and certifiably unfunny on purpose.

I have fewer original thoughts about John Candy as an actor than I do Steve Martin. I agree with basically everything that other people have already said about his performance here. It's lovable. It cuts against expectations—maybe a lesser movie would make Candy's Del Griffith sort of an asshole too, and have the two main characters butt heads because of competing interests, but it was a much better movie because Griffith is so kind and empathetic. And the performance rightfully makes people think that John Candy should've had more opportunities to show range. He shows depth here. Does he get to this place in any other movie? I can see it in his bit role in Home Alone. I can even see some sort of version of it in Cool Runnings. But then I watch other movies like the cruel and unfunny Uncle Buck, and think that he had a talent that was wasted.

It wasn't wasted here. The ending, in which Neal and Del officially become friends, is an ending that was more than earned. Because there is a logic behind Neal's and Del's respective behavior, then it consequently makes perfect sense that they would find friendship in each other, after all they've been through. Neal is an asshole but comes to realize that he's only an asshole because he's trying to face this cruel world alone, and that he might be less of an asshole if he just had a supportive presence in his life. Del is lonely and tries way too hard to become friends with people and realizes through Neal that sometimes people just come in and out of your life by happenstance, and that you don't have to force it, that you can just appreciate the people who are there, that even the assholes are there for the same reason as you, because ultimately, they need friendship and connection in their lives too.

It's real fucking nice to watch an '80s buddy comedy and be able to discuss this kind of shit at all, instead of "was it funny." I feel like so often for comedies I have to default to that line of reasoning, because that's what the focus is on, the laughs (or lack thereof, occasionally). Planes, Train and Automobiles had a lot more going for it, which was a real nice change of pace. Even if I wasn't rolling on the floor laughing, it was nice to watch a comedy that had something to say about human nature. If a movie is gonna hit only one of those targets, then I know now which target I prefer. Keep your typical Steve Martin out of here!!!

GRADE: 3.5 pukes out of 5

NEXT TIME: We're talking about Candyman on Wednesday night via Zoom! And then the blog post will be posted the following morning.

Never Seen It #341: Driving Miss Daisy

Stop saying that, you're making me mad! If you know your letters you can blog. You just don't know you can blog. I watched 500 movies I'd never seen before with some of the stupidest children God ever put on the face of this earth, and all of them could blog well enough to find a name on a tombstone.

Driving Miss Daisy

1989

Bruce Beresford

I suppose the first time I became cognizant of the existence and reputation of Driving Miss Daisy was around the time Green Book won Best Picture at the Oscars. This was 29 years after Driving Miss Daisy won the same award. And I guess there were some people who were making comparisons between the two, since they both involved a central relationship that involved two people with different skin colors, one of whom was driving the other one around as a job. A little blog called Puke on Your Birthday did its best to sum up some of the controversies surrounding the way that Green Book presented the issue of race, slightly before the movie won the big award, so you can check that out if you're bored.

The phrase that sticks out for me in that summary (from a publication called The Root) is "palatable racism for white people." I'm reading that phrase now for the first time in a while, and I'm wondering whether it applies to Driving Miss Daisy too. It probably does. It does a better job explaining why these movies won Best Picture than it does explaining whether either movie is a good movie or not. I think that Driving Miss Daisy was a good movie, but I'll be the first to admit that this might have been because I am white. I don't think I'd say I like it more because the racism was "palatable," though. I mean, we literally just watched In the Heat of the Night. The racism portrayed in that film was deeply unpalatable, I'd argue, and that made it a more interesting film, and a better one overall. You could even tell that Driving Miss Daisy was aware of it, because there was one scene that felt like it was inserted for just this very purpose, where the small-town cops dropped the N-word... but, ya know, softly, as Hoke and Miss Daisy were driving away, to no threat toward either of them.

The film does not mean for us to question the portrayal of Hoke. I was not surprised to learn that many critics of the film consider it to be a racist portrayal. That theory would go that Hoke, a Black man, exists solely as "tool" for the white Miss Daisy, that he is never fleshed out as a character outside of that relationship, and that his subservience (his constant "yes'm" and all that) was a bad look. I won't say that it wasn't concerning, and I won't say I disagree with it. If I wanted to disagree with it, then that would be racist. I don't want to disagree with that theory, and I think it's an extremely valid takeaway, if that is indeed your takeaway.

Perhaps it would have been a better film—less palatable, more interesting, more in line with modern expectations—had Driving Miss Daisy gone out of its way to question the characterization of Hoke, had attempted to grapple with his subservient role in Daisy's life, had given him anything else to work with in his life beyond his job as a Black servant for a rich white lady. As with all movies, there's not much I can do beyond shrug and agree. It's easy to talk about what a movie is; it's harder to talk about what it should have been. (And for what it's worth, Green Book does actually go into the "questioning" of it all, so, for its still many flaws, I think that Green Book was at the very least slightly more responsible with its subject matter.)

Putting what the film should have been to the side, we can ask, well, what is this film? What is the intended point? I think its intentions are pure, even if the execution is flawed. I think that Driving Miss Daisy's point is to portray two people who are very different, and watch as the pressing weight of time drives them together, tangles their lives together, and ultimately exposes the goodness in humanity. Viewed through an anti-racist lens, Daisy is labeled a racist, despite her low-simmering questioning of racist beliefs. She says early in the film "I am not prejudiced!" She doesn't treat Hoke like shit because he's Black, she treats him like shit because she treats everyone like shit. You can see how 1989 audiences might find this enlightened, but it circles back around for 2026, who view this as just another form of racism.

Another key to unlocking what they were going for here is the conversation that Daisy and Hoke have about Daisy's upbringing. An underlying behavior trait for the rich Miss Daisy is that she is ashamed of her wealth. Not enough to give it away, but enough to bristle at any mention of how much money she has. She's quick to point out that she came up poor. This is intended, I think, to level the playing field between her and Hoke, like, they can relate if they both started from the same place. Again, I don't think that plays well with a 2026 audience (I know so many people who insist that their middle-class upbringing was closer to poverty than it actually way), because we know that Daisy and Hoke did not, in fact, start from the same place in life, and to claim as much would be to deny the structural racism that resulted in Daisy becoming rich and Hoke becoming a butler. But I'm just trying to see things from the filmmaker's point of view. Did Driving Miss Daisy achieve what it wanted to achieve? Maybe.

It's the attempt that counts, I'd argue. The film attempts to drive a line connecting Daisy and Hoke through their experiences in the lower class, economically speaking. It's not really the same thing, but in this world, it is. And I could see maybe this film being helpful—despite the argument's one great flaw, yes—to someone who is struggling to relate to someone who has a different color skin than they do, and realizing, through Daisy and Hoke, that it's not actually all about skin color. Maybe we can say the problem here is that they go too far in the other direction, and occasionally refuse to acknowledge the differences in skin color at all (the "colorblind" argument that is so antithetical to anti-racism). The true answer is that it's both.

Beyond economic class, the film also attempts to draw a line between the two characters in that Daisy experiences prejudice through her identity of being Jewish. There's the scene where she can't go to synagogue because the building has been bombed. In this way, I think there really is a connection between Daisy and Hoke. Is the film clumsy in the way that it goes about drawing that connection? Sure. The bombing feels like a convenience for the plot, in the opposite way that institutional racism is ignored for the convenience of the plot. Both forms of prejudice very much exist, both in this world and in the real world.

Maybe you are part of the audience of this film in 2026 and you have personally experienced antisemitism. I'm particular sensitive to this subject since it was implied, on this very blog, that I'm antisemitic (and then, in private, that my actions and beliefs would be antisemitic if I wasn't deemed an exception by the implying parties). You can take all that how you will, but I know that my beliefs—seeing the world through the lens of the oppressed—very much make me supportive of any parties that are prejudiced against, including Black people and Jewish people (and, of course, Palestinians who are currently being murdered by the Israeli government). At the end of the day, Driving Miss Daisy was connecting the two based on those prejudices that both characters experienced, and I think it was a worthwhile attempt.

I think what this all comes down to is how you take that scene toward the end when Daisy tells Hoke that he is her best friend, and Hoke shares the sentiment. To like this movie means that you feel that this moment is earned. To not like this movie means that you feel like it's sentimental hogwash attached to a film that has to bluster its way toward that conclusion by ignoring a whole bunch of heinous shit. I do think that Driving Miss Daisy did a lot of ignoring, but I think the most egregious was how long it kept these characters apart, emotionally speaking. I think that it built its case well that Daisy and Hoke would indeed eventually realize that they are best friends. But I think that enough happens that this realization occurs much sooner. There's no reason for Daisy and Hoke to be eating dinner in separate rooms, each very much alone, for as long as they did. There's no reason that Hoke should be left out of the Christmas celebration without either character acknowledging how sad it is, that a cold door is closed in his face.

If we're talking about "conveniences in the plot," then this is the biggest one. It was convenient for the two characters to ignore the truth about each other for so long. It was convenient for Daisy to take such baby steps when everything was there to allow her to take leaps. It was convenient that those baby steps were portrayed as larger than they actually were, to underline the point that she was "not prejudiced" in her mind. Ultimately, I think the fact that Driving Miss Daisy was so fucking obvious with the point it was trying to make saves the film from being a complete racist mess, but also dooms it to being lesser than, a film that has good intentions but doesn't hold up to the scrutiny of time and social progress. If we're talking about "whether I enjoyed it" or not, then sure, yeah, I enjoyed watching it, but Film Club is about what happens afterwards, when you think about it some more. I've thought about it some more, and I don't know if it can hold the weight.

GRADE: 3 pukes out of 5

NEXT TIME: A conclusion to our planes, trains, and automobiles week with Planes, Trains and Automobiles.