I_Ailurophile

Modern film processing generally can't hold a candle to glorious mid-century coloring techniques and technology like Technicolor, and this is another title that exemplifies the point. From the gorgeous filming locations in Ireland, to Maureen O'Hara's vibrant red hair, to the lovely production design, to the splendid costume design, to even the choices of lighting, 'The quiet man' is a welcome sight for sore eyes across the board, and at some times more than others - and no small part of that salve can be attributed to the Technicolor of yesterday. The supporting cast is a further fine credit to the picture, including not just O'Hara, whose smile could melt hearts and whose tears could break them, but others like Victor McLaglen, Ward Bond, and more in even the smallest roles, as they lend tremendous vitality and personality in their performances. All this is to say nothing of the rich direction of icon John Ford, the varied and enticing original music of composer Victor Young as it complements the proceedings, or the otherwise terrific contributions of everyone operating behind the scenes. This is a work one learns by name well before ever watching, but as its reputation precedes it, there's no mistaking how roundly solid it is, keeping us actively interested and engaged from the start.

Even for all that, though, I'm perhaps more pleased still with Frank S. Nugent's screenplay. Clever, warm notes of comedy adorn the light drama (with occasional heavier notes) of a man returning to his boyhood home, finding a mixed reception in some regards, and falling in love. The dialogue is as uniformly sharp as the scene writing, being equally smart and flavorful in plotting out the narrative. Together with Ford's expert direction and the fantastic energy of the supporting cast, the feature radiates pleasing congeniality and vitality that's enchanting like relatively few productions in all of cinema can claim. Granted, I don't think the bits of voiceover narration are necessary and I could do without, but for as excellent and highly enjoyable as this is through and through, I'm willing to extend a little grace for such a facet that is maybe not so plainly appreciable. As select sequences here and there particularly capture the imagination, like Thornton and Danaher's early encounter in a pub, or the horse race, I could hardly be any happier with how good this really is.

There remains an elephant in the room, however. The story of how John Wayne became involved in the film industry is delightful, and even inspiring. John Wayne, himself, was a man who if he was lucky might have once or twice in all his life stumbled onto a personal belief that wasn't repugnant - and if there has ever been an actor who was more stone-faced and wooden, I've never seen them. There has never been a movie starring Wayne in which he did not benefit from the acting skill of those around him, nor has there ever been a movie starring Wayne which did not suffer from his own achingly weak acting skill. I will concede the possibility that Wayne is a little less awful here than he has been elsewhere, but if we argue it's the best performance he ever gave, his 10 is still the 1 or at best the 2 of anyone else. To whatever extent the man demonstrates marginally more range in these two hours than he did elsewhere in his career, there are also times when his wooden visage is such a poor match for what Ford or Nugent is trying to do that I can't help but laugh. And these, emphatically, were not moments when the flick was meaning to elicit laughter; the more strength a scene requires of Wayne, the worse he comes off.

Still, no matter how much we deign to disparage Wayne (as he deserves), or scrutinize this or that (including some outdated or sexist social values illustrated at times - including a late sequence that is partly charming and partly has aged badly - and maybe even the length of the picture), there cannot be any mistaking how superb 'The quiet man' is in every other regard. Wayne really is elevated (to some degree) by the greatness of those around him, not least O'Hara, Ford, and Nugent, and even cinematographer Winton C. Hoch. The spotlight on Irish culture, and even the Irish language, is quite refreshing. The fundamental sights to greet us are a blast, above all in Technicolor, and with writing and direction this strong, it's hard to imagine anyone watching and not having a good time. Why, the raucous climax is altogether outstanding, to the point that in my opinion, it by itself raises the title's lasting value! Subjective missteps and all, this is a classic that's well deserving of its esteem. Romantic comedy-dramas don't get much better than 'The quiet man,' and I'm glad to give this my hearty recommendation!

Despite my jaded skepticism, the original film of 1992 actually is really fun and well done, a blast of a sci-fi thriller rounded with tinges of horror. But what about a sequel that has gone unremarked at best, if not outright derided, from the time it was released? There was perhaps story potential to explore where Brett Leonard's picture left off; with a paucity of returning contributors, would 'Lawnmower Man 2' embrace that potential - and would it do so successfully - or would it swerve off the light path laid before it, as sequels are wont to do, to more loosely play in the same narrative space? Would and could this be any good, despite the naysayers?

There were deeply curious choices made in producing this title. I'm not going to declare that they were necessarily bad, but it's safe to say that 'Beyond cyberspace' veered from whatever steps its predecessor may have theoretically plotted for it. What was a dark, R-rated tale exploring a variety of thoughtful notions is now a PG-13 romp that quite centers teenagers. Only traces of the previous adult-oriented vibes remain as many facets here remind of any of countless family-friendly genre adventures in which plucky kids save the day: not just the teens and other character writing, but also Robert Folks' original music, the narrative and scene writing, and more. No matter how generous we are with our suspension of disbelief, the fact remains that only six years are supposed to have elapsed in-universe since the prior work, but the digital age seemed to have arrived decades ago based on what greets our eyes. Still, for the sake of argument, let's try to disregard everything about the antecedent and consider this flick as an exploration of like-minded territory in a different manner; a "what if" variant rather than a direct, faithful follow-up, if you will. That's quite a leap to make, but if we make it, the viewing experience is more forgiving.

The themes and ideas about technology in a dystopian scif-i cyberpunk hacker digital whatever future are common to most all fare that claims a similar setting and narrative space, and approached with a rather heavy hand, but it's hardly as if there's no value in those concepts, not least as one can readily discern aspects that are all too relevant to our world of thirty years later. Much the same goes for the detailed sets, costume design, hair and makeup, and props, and even the lighting, but that doesn't make them any less fetching as we soak them in. Some dialogue is notably bad, and the centering of youths and rating reduction innately soften whatever story might be told to some degree, to its disadvantage, but that doesn't mean the story can't still be enjoyable on its own merits. Farhad Mann's direction and the acting of the cast don't generally stand out, and Matt Frewer - taking over the role of Jobe from Jeff Fahey - is unabashedly, playfully chewing scenery with influence from his time with 'Max Headroom,' but the doing is capable enough. And despite being so prevalent as it is, more than not the computer-generated imagery looks pretty decent all this time later, and definitely leveled up from four years before.

Be all that as it may, between variable quality, a gentler tone, curious choices, and shameless mimicry, what ultimately happens is that the in no time at all - and confirmed throughout these ninety-some minutes - the feature starts to feel decidedly middling. For all the earnest consideration that went into the plot, the action, the effects, the craftsmanship, and so on, including even the most "intense" sequences, 'Lawnmower man 2' comes across as a little hollow, a sci-fi journey that to some extent paints by numbers. It's the type of work one can "watch" without attentively, actively engaging, and miss nothing. To my pleasant surprise, contrary to its reputation, I don't think this movie is bad. But it almost feels a step too far to say that it's "good." There are far worse ways to spend one's time, but the trouble is that there are far better ways, too, so why would one bother with this in the first place? All told, if you're looking for something light and uninvolved to pass some time (even within a dystopian sci-fi capitalist hellscape setting), this is somewhat worthwhile. Just don't go out of your way for it, and keep your expectations mild, and maybe that's the best way to get the most out of 'Beyond cyberspace.'

Is it all Aaron Sorkin's fault? Unending snark has infected wide swaths of cinema in recent years - an infection traced to Patient Zero, the explosion of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and the subsequent effort by studios to emptily ape its success however they can. That snark goes far beyond a quick wit, or smart dialogue, or sharp characters, and becomes a goal in and of itself, pervading any given script: if a scribe can't write snark, the studios seem to think, a scribe can't write at all. I was pleased at first with how bright the dialogue seemed to be in this modern classic as every character on hand has a ready response, a line constantly on the tip of their tongue, and no few phrases are almost poetic in their cleverness or verbiage. Well inside of twenty minutes, however, it also started to become clear that Sorkin was so obsessed with the dialogue, and specifically those ready responses, those tips of characters' tongues, and those choice phrases, that it would seem to have been his chief priority. I can see the line one might draw from 'A few good men' through 'The avengers' to 'Kong: Skull Island' and beyond, and my opinion soured quickly as I began watching.

Meanwhile, Daniel Kaffee (Tom Cruise) is as obnoxious as he is arrogant, and boy oh boy is he arrogant as the script lets his words fly. Jessep (Jack Nicholson), Kendrick (Kiefer Sutherland), Dawson, Downey, and other Marines (if not servicemen at large) are painted to be so astonishingly stubborn, close-minded, cold, cruel, angry, arrogant - not to mention misogynist, racist, homophobic, and appallingly jingoistic - and frankly mindless, misguided, unstable, and servile, with wacky, dangerous priorities - that one can only hope that as the United States wastes (genuinely, wastes) billions upon billions of dollars on the military each year, there isn't one solitary representation of reality in this screenplay that to be blunt serves as an indictment of military culture, and its self-protectiveness and potential for corruption. Oh yes, the Department of Defense apparently disavowed the picture's portrayal, but that's about as helpful an indicator as the results of commercial genetic testing for canines, the sort that might suggest human blood to carry canine DNA. Between the early impressions of the dialogue and of the characters, this really had a bit of an uphill climb with me. And, oh look, Marines cosplaying as a high school drumline under the opening credits, how cute!

Thankfully, there actually is more to 'A few good men' than outwardly meets the eye early on. The plot begins to pick up in earnest by the time Kaffee and Galloway (Demi Moore) first meet Jessep; as it does, the snark gets toned down and the bits of humor and quick-witted dialogue are allowed to actually count for something (sometimes even earning a laugh). The characters begin to show meaningful intelligence (first accentuated in the scene of Dawson and Downey's arraignment), and the actors are allowed to act, demonstrating more range, nuance, and personality; Cruise gives an excellent performance early in his career, and Moore, Kevin Pollak, and others in the star-studded cast. I include James Marshall in this, in his supporting part as Downey, though in fairness, I'm biased because I love 'Twin Peaks.' I appreciate the earnest care and hard work seen in the production design, in Robert Richardson's cinematography, and at its best, in Rob Reiner's direction. Where it isn't self-indulgent or overblown, I believe Sorkin's screenplay is splendid, with an engrossing story and themes, instances of strong scene writing, and definitely some superb dialogue.

In addition to what I've already touched upon, it is perhaps worth putting some thought towards the manner in which this feature was executed. There is much to appreciate here, absolutely. But I've already noted my criticisms of the dialogue and characters, and that's not quite all. There's some chest-beating jingoism elsewhere in Sorkin's script that comes from the characters we're supposed to relate to and sympathize with; while the writing improves overall as the minutes tick by, make no mistake that there's a big hollow veneer of pompous energy standing in for true substance. And as that energy informs no few choices of scene writing, dialogue, characters, direction, cinematography, editing, music - including the way that characters interact with each other, the pacing and structure of courtroom scenes and reactions, and more - what often comes across is that this movie was not written as a movie. I don't mean that it comes from Sorkin's stageplay, but rather that it feels like a TV drama (such as David E. Kelley's 'The practice' or 'L. A. Law') that just happened to have been revised for a cinematic format. This is neither a good thing nor a bad thing, but there is a fair question to be asked of whether or not the approach taken to the material is what was most suitable and appropriate. Also in fairness, the approach was and is successful, so I suppose that's ultimately the most important factor.

I have my problems with this title, and there are points that merit real discussion. The tendency toward dramatic flourish rides the line between keen and effective, and overwrought and counterproductive, and in retrospective, this arguably includes even that famous line, in that famous climactic scene, that has become one of the most iconic moments in all of cinema. Yet while its worst aspects are questionable, at its best this truly is outstanding, and there's a reason it's so recognized and quoted, and spotlighted so commonly. I wouldn't go so far as to say this title demands to be seen, but despite my misgivings, it really is great all told, and one would be mistaken not to watch at one time or another. Faults and all, 'A few good men' is a very worthy film, and I'm happy to give it my recommendation.