Bottle Rocket

My friend Dana e-mailed me one day in the mid-1990s, raving about this odd, hilarious film she found called Bottle Rocket. Dana and I both studied video production, and like me, she eventually went to film school, so I trusted her judgment.

I went to Blockbuster (I think), rented the tape, took it home, and watched. I laughed a few times, but I didn't quite see what Dana saw. I'm not saying she was wrong. I just didn't feel much.

Keep in mind, this was at a time when Adam Sandler and Chris Farley were setting the standard for what was funny on film. Then along came Wes Anderson, Kevin Smith, and Noah Baumbach, and suddenly film comedy seemed to go back to this more cerebral, personal place. Sandler and Farley made hilarious films, but these indie upstart directors were fearless. So what if the audience gets a little impatient? Screw 'em. Make 'em work a little, think a little, and get a reward when they're patient with the film. These quirky, personal comedies resonated with me a bit more, and helped me to realize that I wanted to write stuff like this. (This also pretty much ensured that I would never make any money doing this.)

Later, Rushmore came out, and was so good, so full of substance, I finally decided Bottle Rocket deserved more effort from me — not some blithe dismissal because I thought the film was "weird" — and the best way to give Bottle Rocket my full attention was to own a copy.

Only one problem — I couldn't find a copy anywhere.

I looked all over town (this is pre-Internet ordering for me). Suncoast, Sam Goody, Walmart, Meijer — nobody in Muncie had a copy. I didn't want to drive to Indy and come back empty handed. So, defeated, I decided to just rent Bottle Rocket again.

I stopped at the local Blockbuster, had the movie in my hand, and had an epiphany. I wondered: if I offered to buy, would Blockbuster sell me their copy?

The Blockbuster manager was cool. He looked up the tape's rental history — only 11 rentals! He sold that used VHS tape to me for $14.99, the equivalent of like $35 or something now. What a bargain.

I played that glorious standard definition, 4:3, stereo videocassette over and over. I showed the film to friends and girls I was attempting to date, and turned a few people on to the film, but usually, the film was met with a resounding "meh." This film is not for everyone — too quirky, too jumpy, and not "Wes Anderson enough." I'm not sure how those three items can co-exist, but whatever.

My in-laws got me this Criterion DVD two Christmases ago. This is a revelation. There's like, other stuff in the frame on the left and the right sides of the screen, and the picture isn't all fuzzy and craptastic. Criterion did a 5.1 mix, and there's a commentary track with Wes Anderson and Owen Wilson, and there's a whole second DVD with supplements. Plus there's Dignan's notebook — the whole 75 year plan. They even included the original short.

I'm thrilled at the wealth of supplements — way more than the original DVD release, which I think listed "Not VHS" as a special feature.

Years on, and after dozens of viewings Bottle Rocket holds up so well. I only have to hear a line or two of dialogue (or the opening bars of The Rolling Stones' "2000 Man") and I just smile this big, stupid smile because I'm happy a film like this got made. A bunch of no-name actors, a no-name director (at the time), and...James Caan? How did this movie happen?

Films like Bottle Rocket give me hope. I know times have changed and independent films like this are not so common anymore, but I can't let that get me down. I have to think like Dignan. Positive thinking taken to a certain extreme allows for a certain naivete, and that's Dignan's charm, and if I can borrow a fraction of that mindset, then I'll keep my chin up and get some things done. I'm not sure what things, but things.

Dana, if you're reading this, thanks.

Boogie Nights

I got to Paul Thomas Anderson's Boogie Nights through his third film, Magnolia, a few years after the Boogie Nights craze, which I mostly ignored.

I just didn't understand what Anderson was doing, and I wasn't listening to the right people. There were way too many late night talk show punchlines for me to take Boogie Nights seriously. My mistake.

So I missed Boogie Nights in theaters, but after I saw Magnolia in January of 2000, I decided to finally look at Boogie Nights. I had some help.

I was dating this girl when Magnolia came out. Sometime after we saw Magnolia — or maybe it was before — we watched Boogie Nights in her dorm room, in the top bunk, watching on a tiny television at the foot of the bed, atop some shelf thing. (This was the antithesis of a theatrical experience. Paul Thomas Anderson would be mortified.) Our relationship lasted about as long as Magnolia lasted in theaters, but I'll save that story for another time.

Boogie Nights is about porno culture and the mad, delusional dysfunction of it all, but beneath the madness there are these human needs. Just because they're porn stars doesn't mean Maslow's hierarchy doesn't apply to them. This film is to porno what Woodstock and Gimme Shelter are to hippie culture — bookends of success and failure, and rising again (pun intended).

In 1997, Boogie Nights was a punchline, a film not to be taken seriously, and certainly no self-respecting midwesterner would watch this film, this filthy thing, glorifying porn, blah blah blah.

Everyone was wrong. Watch Boogie Nights.

The Blues Brothers

At one point, probably when I was 14 or so, The Blues Brothers was my favorite film.

That means at one point, probably when I was 14 or so, my favorite film in the whole world was a musical, and I pretty much just now realized that. This explains so much.

Yes, The Blues Brothers is a musical. You've got dance numbers, actors spontaneously breaking into song, large-scale choreography — all wrapped around a paper-thin plot that somehow gets stretched more than two hours.

But The Blues Brothers is unlike any other musical, according to my wife, in that it does not suck. I mean, you get great music, great comedy, and the kind of dialogue you can take to school to impress women.

The Blues Brothers is also one of the greatest comedies ever made, and did more to shape my sense of humor than any one other film not called Spies Like Us or Caddyshack.

The Blues Brothers is also an action film. You've got hundreds of cops, military personnel, Nazis, jilted lovers, and a country & western bar band (they play both kinds of music) chasing them, shooting at them, firing bazookas at them...and these are some epic chase sequences — the chase sequence at the end is one for the ages. Backflipping cars?

Oh, and Steven Spielberg shows up to take their tax money at the end, and the receipt is made out to Jake and Elwood Blues, 1060 W. Addison (Wrigley Field), and is signed by R.J. Daley. That's Richard J. Daley, who had been dead for 3 years at the time. I love everything about this.

This mall movie has everything.

However, I've been watching the wrong movie all along. Before we could really afford to own movies, I taped The Blues Brothers from TV. Now, my most vivid memories of this film are sullied by TV edits and jumpy VHS efforts to cut out the commercials.

Plus, this DVD edition is billed as having "Bonus Footage" — 12 additional minutes not in the original theatrical release or the TV edit. No wonder I feel like I'm watching a different movie. This is the film I should've known all along.

Entire scenes are missing from the TV version I know so well (Elwood quitting the spray can factory, much of the Nazi stuff, the gas station blowing up, etc.), and the language, oh the language. I don't mind the language, but after dozens, literally dozens of viewings, I'm used to the wrong version! Was I quoting TV edits in school? That explains so much.

I've had the DVD for a few years, but I've only watched the full, unedited version maybe twice, and never paying close enough attention to see all the differences. I prefer this version now, but man, I wish I'd known years ago. What a treasure.

Blood Simple

The world is full o' complainers. An' the fact is, nothin' comes with a guarantee. Now I don't care if you're the pope of Rome, President of the United States or Man of the Year; somethin' can all go wrong. Now go on ahead, y'know, complain, tell your problems to your neighbor, ask for help, 'n watch him fly. Now, in Russia, they got it mapped out so that everyone pulls for everyone else... that's the theory, anyway. But what I know about is Texas, an' down here... you're on your own.

When I watch Blood Simple (1984), I always think of a later Coen Brothers thriller, No Country For Old Men (2007), and not just because the two are set in Texas.

I catch myself wanting to put the two films on a timeline to show how the Coen Brothers' world view has changed over the years, and there are plenty of comparisons and contrasts to be made in support of that, but I see the two films differently.

If Blood Simple is how the Coens saw a country of men and women in moral decline in 1984, then is No Country For Old Men a reflection of where we are some two decades later? Maybe.

But No Country For Old Men is set in 1980. The more violent, more suspenseful, more frightening of the two films...is actually set earlier. Men and women were capable of worse than what the Coens depict in Blood Simple, which sort of feels like "No Country Lite."

I'm not saying Blood Simple is a bad film by any measure — but No Country is a more vivid depiction of our moral decay.

The Coens remind us again and again: This is the world, and this is what people are capable of doing, and though we try to convince ourselves otherwise, we are on our own.

Blazing Saddles

Most of what I learned about comedy at an inappropriately early age, I learned from Mel Brooks movies.

My parents didn't put many restrictions on my viewing habits. As a result, I can attribute much of my personality to seeing movies way too early in life. We're talking formative stages lost to the likes of Mel Brooks movies.

Example: I saw History of the World Part 1 on a pay movie channel at my Uncle Gene's when I was maybe 8 years old. That should horrify most parents now. What's more horrifying is that I don't really see the problem.

I was aware of Blazing Saddles as early as age 7, though I'm not certain I actually saw the film end to end until I was much older — at least 14.

Blazing Saddles was one of the first films, if not the first, that my friends and I quoted to each other around school. As you know, quoting movies is how menfolk bond. What you may not know is that quoting movies truly drives women wild.

Yes, to women, there's nothing sexier than a group of young males standing around, spouting off random, out-of-context movie quotes from films that pretty much only make other young males laugh.

I realize this sounds like a generalization, but you really need to trust me on this one: women dig a man who sits around with (or without) other men and memorizes movies, then quotes them ad nauseam.

Interesting Man Fact: Pretty much every guy I know hates Madeline Kahn's "I'm So Tired" number. This is the part where the film draaaaags. The interesting bit is, the perspective shifts from masculine to feminine here. Of course this scene turns men off. Bring back the racial slurs, misogyny, and puns!

(I'm not saying it's right.)

For the record, I'm sitting through "I'm So Tired" again for the purposes of this project. I'm doing this not just for the integrity of the project, but also because I believe in the empowerment of women and the Third Wave.

Like most great comedies, Blazing Saddles holds up well to repeat viewings. I've probably seen this film 50 times, and every time, something new gets me. This time? Gabby Johnson's monologue:

"I wash born here, an I wash raished here, and dad gum it, I am gonna die here, an no sidewindin' bushwackin', hornswagglin' cracker croaker is gonna rouin me bishen cutter."

Authentic frontier gibberish.