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Film Clips
DECEMBER 7, 1998:
 A BUG'S LIFE. Antz may've beat Pixar's computer
animated insect-o-rama to the big screen, but A Bug's Life is
the far superior of the two, both for enchanting animated life
and a serviceable storyline. Where one hopes in vain for Antz'
whiny, accidental hero (Woody Allen) to get irrevocably smashed,
Bug's Flik (Dave Foley--whoever he is) is a far more dynamic
instigator. Essentially a story about two engaging screw-ups--one
a princess (Julia Louis-Dreyfus) and the other an unsinkable everyman
(Foley)--who make good in the end, the most engaging aspects here
are the cinematic direction and the zippy one-liners (yes, they
saved a few for the paying audiences). Celebrity voices are well-matched
to their insectine counterparts, including Kevin Spacey as the
evil grasshopper leader, Phyllis Diller as the queenly cut-up,
and Denis Leary as a ladybug at odds with his feminine side. If
you go, be sure to stay through the credits for the animated outtakes.
--Wadsworth
ELIZABETH. Cate Blanchett plays the Virgin Queen, who ruled
England during Shakespeare's time. She's a sassy wench, according
to this version--a bejeweled rebel bucking the Catholic system
and following the dictates of her royal heart in all things. It's
ridiculous, but kind of fun. The court is perpetually bathed in
inky gloom, and a series of stabbings, beheadings, stake-burnings
and exotic poisonings make Elizabeth's castle look a lot riskier
than any old sorority house in a horror movie. All pretensions
to high art are abandoned early here anyway, so if it's lusty
cads in short pants and fine ladies in satin gowns you want, this
is your one-stop shopping place. If you're hoping for an intelligent
story of any sort, however, browse elsewhere. --Richter
HAPPINESS. A funhouse view of varieties of suffering from
Todd Solondz, creator of Welcome to the Dollhouse. A New
Jersey family, featuring two miserable parents (Louise Lasser
and Ben Gazzara) and three tortured grown daughters, put themselves
and others through as much pure hell as possible. We witness a
series of sex crimes, failed relationships, bitter rejections,
and doomed quests for self as Solondz struggles to situate himself
as the Hieronymus Bosch of our times. Happiness is a comedy,
though a disturbing one, that exaggerates misery just enough so
that some people--maybe a few--might laugh at it. In any
case, it's a cheering antidote to the pat, happy endings of Hollywood
movies, and this director has a real knack for capturing the nuance
of suburban ugliness. Chairs that match the wallpaper! Endless
cubicles of office space! The doings in Happiness are more
exaggerated than in Welcome to the Dollhouse, and this
film is less likely to evoke that complex, nauseating God-that-happened-to-me
feeling of his earlier film. Nonetheless, it's an interesting,
disturbing, and sometimes amusing tour of the downside of being
alive. --Richter
HOME FRIES. Dark comedies aren't generally sweet, but cast
a ringlet-adorned Drew Barrymore as a pregnant, small town drive-thru
attendant, and you can skip those M&Ms at the concession stand.
The enjoyably convoluted story centers around two families, the
white trash, big-hearted Jacksons and the upper-class, insane
Levers, and the adultery that brings them all together. Sally
Jackson (Barrymore) dates the much older Henry Lever (Chris Ellis),
but only until she discovers he's married. His wife (Catherine
O'Hara) finds out about the affair and decides that one way to
cure a cheating heart is to manipulate her sons, Dorian (Luke
Wilson) and Angus (Jake Busey), into killing it. Dimwitted Angus
suspects Sally knows of the murder, so Dorian goes undercover
as a fry cook at the Burger-Matic where she works. In addition
to lots of cute with a capital K between Dorian and Sally, Home
Fries offers a cynical and funny look at the idealized bourgeois
family, a great cast, and practical advise, such as, "a relaxed
jaw means an open vagina." If that's not enough of a recommendation,
at least go to see the ever-enchanting Shelley Duvall as Ma Jackson.
--Higgins
RINGMASTER. In the 1920s, Robert Musil
wrote his magnum opus, The Man Without Qualities, in which
he bemoaned the excessively refined culture of his age. He expressed
the belief, prevalent amongst intellectuals of the time, that
the mannered, overly civilized society of the modern world had
robbed humanity of all possibility for genuine self-expression
by virtue of its insistence on historical knowledge and schooled,
aestheticist sensitivities. Musil was wrong. Jerry Springer has
brought us living proof that humanity's most immediate and unmediated
desires are still capable of unfettered expression; that mankind
still has the capacity to push aside the constraining sublimations
of culture in order to be, freely and without shame, that which,
at basest heart, it truly is. To stress this point, here's the
finest bit of dialogue from Ringmaster: Stepfather: "Do
that other thing." Stepdaughter: "What thing?"
Stepfather: "That thing your mother won't do." I thank
God almighty that the nightmare world of literate, cultured, effete
snobs that Musil imagined so brilliantly has not overwhelmed the
world, and that there is still room for a TV show about men who
love their girlfriends' pet goats. Pull up a 40-ouncer and slide
into Ringmaster, where hope reigns supreme and foley artists
have perfected the slurpy noises that accompany oral lovemaking.
--DiGiovanna
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