Skip to main contentThe following is a true story. Last week, while I'm waiting to use the restroom at Berbati's, the guy standing next to me asks, "Aren't you the dude who reviews movies for Willamette Week?"
Not sure if he's one of the countless people I've offended over the years, I reach into my pocket to grasp my car keys, which I'm prepared to use as a weapon if things get ugly. It wouldn't be the first time someone took issue with something I'd written.
"Yeah, that's me."
That's when he asks what everyone asks: "What's a good movie I can go see?"
All I'm thinking about is getting into the restroom before my bladder explodes. "Whatever you do, don't go see Extreme Ops," I tell him. "That really sucked."
But that's not enough. This guy wants titles, theaters and showtimes. I suggest either Igby Goes Down or Spirited Away, and step up to a newly vacated urinal.
"Really, you thought Igby Goes Down was good?" he says. "I don't know, the poster looks stupid."
"Look, man, you asked me to recommend some movies. I'm standing here with my dick in my hand, trying to take a leak, and you want to argue over the design aspects of a movie poster."
"Why you bein' such an asshole?" he asks as I washed my hands. "I just wanted to know what's good."
The rest of the night I catch the guy staring at me and pointing me out to other people. I don't have to read his lips to know what he's saying. Later, a woman--no doubt sent over by my pal from the bathroom--corners me and demands to know, "Why are you such a sexist, misogynist pig?"
Reaching in my mental bag of sure-to-offend answers, I sarcastically respond by saying, "I wouldn't have to be--if women knew their place." She throws her drink in my face. So much for my biting sense of humor.
The events of last week were unfortunate and only served to contribute to the misconception that I'm a jerk. Sometimes I forget my place as a film critic and lose sight of my responsibility to the public. For that I'm truly sorry.
On that note, I'd like to take the time to recommend two movies. Starting this weekend, there are two films playing in town--one is 50 years old, the other 60--that you absolutely shouldn't miss. This isn't me being a smartass or trying to have fun at the expense of all you readers. This is me looking out for you guys. This is me showing some love. You can look as hard as you want, but you won't find two films better than 1942's Casablanca or 1952's Singin' in the Rain.
Both are throwbacks to another time, when films were made differently. More specifically, movies were better back then. Hey, maybe film critics were, too.
We could argue the reasons why motion pictures were better 40 and 50 years ago, but it all really comes down to one thing: By and large, movies are no longer made for adults. This is evidenced by the insipid plots, bad writing and, most importantly, lead actors who look barely old enough to vote. It's easy to accept men like Humphrey Bogart and Cary Grant in leading roles, whether it be hardened gangster or romantic cynic, because they look like they've lived life. Guys like Matt Damon and Ben Affleck, however, look like they just stumbled out of a frat-house kegger and onto the movie set.
Prior to 1977, movies were generally produced for either adult audiences or youth audiences, but seldom with both in mind. Anyone remember live-action Disney fare like The Apple Dumpling Gang or Escape from Witch Mountain? Those were the sort of films produced for younger audiences. Nowadays, films like that are still made--only dressed up with a few fart jokes--and passed off as movies for an older audience (older being anyone over 12).
After the success of the original Star Wars, Hollywood discovered a new formula for producing films--catering, almost exclusively, not to adults but to their children. When Casablanca was produced, there were no executives sitting around asking, "How do we get the 16-year-olds?" More importantly, there was no concern about what sort of franchise potential Singin' in the Rain had, or whether it could be adapted into a video game. And maybe back then, a guy could take a leak in peace.
Hollywood Theatre, 4122 NE Sandy Blvd. 281-4215.
Cinema 21, 616 NW 21st Ave. 223-4515.
WWeek 2015