Risky Business

You remember those Star Trek episodes where they wind up in an alternate universe? This movie is like watching the alternate universe version of Ferris Bueller's Day Off. From the Chicago suburbs setting to the madcap teenage adventures to the unrealistically tidy denouement, everything in this movie echoes not just the Ferris film but the entire John Hughes oeuvre—except here it’s all a bit more dangerous, a bit more adult (versus the self-consciously adolescent tone of the Hughes movies), and a bit more serious in disposition. And it all comes from a different auteur (Paul Brickman). Where the overlap is greatest lies in the '80s sensibility that pervades every atom of the world inhabited by the characters in this flick. If anyone tried to remake this movie today it would be impossible; no one active now had the same connection to that particular wavelength, and the story would end up wildly different, and probably not as good. (It would certainly be more violent; the action here practically demands more extreme behavior, and it says something about the relative innocence of those times that this plot plays out as tamely as it does.) Tom Cruise and Rebecca De Mornay work extremely well together here as rich high school boy Joel and Lana the hooker, respectively, Joe Pantoliano is a bit too lightweight as Guido "the killer pimp," while Curtis Armstrong nearly steals the show as Joel’s overly encouraging buddy. The soundtrack features a number of terrific—and contemporary representative—songs, and the Brickman's direction, in certain sequences, approaches something artful now and then (unlike Hughes’ generally more simplistic staging). So which universe is better? Perhaps it’s a reflection of my personal childishness, but it must mean something that I saw most of the Hughes films long ago, while I waited till I was an old man to watch this movie. I guess I prefer the adolescent hijinks over a slightly more downbeat version of coming of age. That’s not a pan—this qualifies as a good movie—but I do tend to choose pleasure over business, risky or otherwise.

One Crazy Summer

“Stupid” is not always a pejorative. For instance, this is, objectively, a stupid movie. Yet, it’s not entirely a bad movie, and indeed, in certain parts the stupid is the appeal. The film hits all the '80s youth comedy fundamentals: the appealing couple (John Cusack and Demi Moore) in the lead roles, the cartoonishly obvious villains (including the de rigueur mean, uberblond rich kid), the musical montage at a key plot point (if one can even say this film has a plot), and an absurd and improbable victory in the climactic competition. Further fun derives from the supporting cast; you’re really hitting the '80s comedy taproot when your flick has both Bobcat Goldthwait and Curtis Armstrong in it. After that, having Mark Metcalf — that's Animal House's Niedermeyer, not to mention Buffy’s The Master, to you—as the primary villain is an embarrassment of riches. The soundtrack—a melange of then-contemporary pop hits to complement various Beach Boys "Soundtrack of Summer" tunes—also goes a long way toward building audience goodwill. Mostly, the appeal at this point grows out of a sense of nostalgia…if you’re the type who would actually remember the era and its characteristic entertainments. As noted, it’s really a pretty stupid movie, so anyone lacking the nostalgic angle—i.e., young people—probably won’t see anything good here. But for us elderly types, there’s a touch of amusement to be had from this work. 

The Clan of the Cave Bear

I was a history major in college, but don’t ask me to account for the veracity of anything you see in this flick. Actually, this story is supposed to be prehistoric, so I guess that would put it into the anthropologist’s territory. Whatever. As it is, these adventures of Ice Age Barbie are mildly diverting, if not exactly exciting. Daryl Hannah does a decent job portraying the heroine, not that the script of grunts and gestures really makes big time demands on any of the actors. The most striking thing that I found in this representation of Paleolithic humanity was the large role that shame played in community relations back then (at least as they’re imagined here); one can’t help but think, from the perspective of these flamboyantly shameless times, that maybe we as a species unlearned something important. In cinematic terms, this movie is OK—nothing great, nothing terrible, interesting enough to hold the viewer’s attention but not artful or insightful enough to really foster any breakthroughs. At least when you watch it you can be thankful that your cave has decent heating and is lacking in murderous bears. Probably. Your spirit animal may vary. 

Ray

A work about a genius is not necessarily a work of genius. This film is a case in point. The story of the music legend is presented here in an oddly old-fashioned style; many of the tropes seen here have been seen a thousand times before, and the notes played (so to speak) come through clearly, but are a bit obvious and render the story somewhat pedestrian--which hardly reflects the full breadth of the real-life tale. That’s the redeeming part of this movie: the extraordinary nature of Charles’ life arc helps the narrative overcome the film-making weaknesses. On top of that, Jamie Foxx’s dead-on take on the legend’s persona injects some appropriate excellence into the proceedings. And, it should go without saying, the music heard here is incredible. It’s certainly a film worth a look and listen, though it is perhaps not the amazing thing that its subject should have made it out to be.