#255. The Little Prince (1974)

 

 

The footage of Bob Fosse wearing all black and dancing around like a snake has been making the rounds online recently (mostly because of how much it obviously influenced Michael Jackson, who just got a new biopic), and it piqued my interest enough to get me to seek out the source.

 

For the most part, The Little Prince lived up to that curiosity. It might be small and cheap (and slightly lacking in the song department, let's be honest), but it's also warm and cute and charming, which is what matters to me. Between the adorable production design, the endearing effects, the kooky wide-angle cinematography, and the generally playful tone, the whole movie feels like a storybook come to life, and it's just a joy to behold.

 

Now, granted, there's not exactly a ton of plot going on, so the gimmicks wear a little thin after a while, but that's where two incredibly inspired bits of casting provide some rejuvenation in the back half. I've already mentioned Fosse as The Snake, who looks cool as hell, but the true standout for me (and I think everybody) is Gene Wilder as The Fox. Seeing him run through the woods and hide behind trees in an orange suit is one of those precious visuals that I'll cherish forever.

 

Grade: A-

 

P.S. Columbo killer count: 2. Richard Kiley (they truly spared no expense when it came to casting this movie) and Clive Revill.

 

#230. Sweet Charity (1969)

 

 

Bob Fosse always had a unique knack for combining colourful imagery and energetic characters with sleazy settings and dark subject matter. It's a bittersweet aesthetic that he perfected in the '70s with films like Cabaret and All That Jazz, but you can definitely see it starting to come together in Sweet Charity, which manages to make 1969 New York City look like both an idealistic wonderland and a soul-crushing hellscape.

 

It's also quite camp, with some countercultural spirit and avant-garde filmmaking techniques to keep things fresh and creative. And while the musical elements usually have a pretty tenuous connection to the actual narrative (causing certain scenes to feel like filler), and the bizarre editing choices only occasionally land, Fosse channels enough passion and temporary catharsis into the choreography and overall atmosphere that the emotions largely remain consistent.

 

Also keeping the tone in place is Shirley MacLaine, who, on top of giving a great performance, brings such an effervescent joy and light to every single scene. It makes the songs that much more endearing (to the point where you don't really care that next-to-nothing is actually happening), the character that much easier to root for, and her arc that much more effective. 

 

Grade: A-

 

#196. Singin' in the Rain (1952)

 

Prior Viewings: 3-4

 

I usually feel a slight sense of trepidation when it comes to tackling the more popular and acclaimed movies, but not so much here. And I think that's because Singin' in the Rain is so pleasant and likeable and beautiful and entertaining that the positives basically speak for themselves.

 

Like, where to start? The gorgeous Technicolor? The catchy songs? The athletic choreography? The breathtaking pastel sets? The funny dialogue? The sharp industry satire? It's all so marvelously composed and effortlessly executed (despite the fact that these numbers are clearly exhausting) that you can't help but smile through the entire thing.

 

And unlike a lot of musicals from the time (or any time), there's not a single dull moment throughout. The title sequence, "Make 'Em Laugh", and "Good Morning" are all rightfully immortalized, but then you've also got the lovely "You Were Meant for Me", the energetic "Moses Supposes", and the show-stopping "Broadway Melody", as well as a fun showbiz plot and a cute romance in between all the winning numbers. It's about as joyous and perfect as Old Hollywood gets.

 

Case in point: the movie has appeared on pretty much every significant film list there is (including a top ten placement from both the American Film Institute and Sight & Sound), and you almost never hear any objections.

 

Grade: A+

 

#163. Labyrinth (1986)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1, though I'm no longer certain I actually saw the whole thing, because all the stuff I remembered happens in the first half.

 

My fifth grade teacher actually showed this one to us, and, in hindsight, I'm glad she did. Ten is basically the perfect age to handle a darker fairy tale while still being kinda scared by it (okay, a few elements were downright terrifying to me - particularly Bowie himself), and that sense of danger really makes the whole experience feel stirringly vivid and real. 

 

Watching the movie again over twenty years later (I didn't enjoy doing that math), it still feels vivid and real, but that's mostly because I'm now far more appreciative of the '80s creativity on display. The practical puppets are adorably tactile and full of life, and the labyrinth itself is just a fantastic series of sets and set pieces. There's a new design and creature around every corner, and they all really come together to bring this nightmarish world to life.

 

Sure, the story becomes a little repetitive here and there, and it starts to lose some steam after the Fire Gang scene (though the Relativity-inspired climax gets us back on track), but this setting is ultimately so imaginative and weird that I can live with a meandering narrative. 

 

Grade: B+

 

#155. Waiting for Guffman (1996)

 

 

As much as I try to be open-minded about different kinds of comedy, I don't think I'll ever be an improv guy. Like, I can definitely appreciate how hard it must be for actors to make up their lines as they go along, but I think that's my very issue with the format: I can almost always sense that thought process as I'm watching it, which results in material that never feels especially authentic to me.

 

Still, if there's one troupe that can be counted on to win me over, it's gotta be Christopher Guest and his band of weirdos. I've loved Best in Show for a few years now, and while I wouldn't put this one on the same level, it certainly shares many of the same strengths. The casting is obviously wonderful (you could choose any of these people as the MVP and you wouldn't be wrong), and I appreciate the simple story, which never really gets in its own way.

 

Unlike Best in Show, however, I'm not sure that I'd call this one particularly funny (though it does have its share of moments; Guest's dance moves will likely never leave my brain). But I guess it makes up for that with a similarly affectionate outlook, which makes the whole thing a lot sweeter and more likeable than your average moc.

 

Grade: B

#127. White Christmas (1954)

 

 

I'm starting to notice a trend with these Golden-age Hollywood musicals. They always start off so warm and likeable, and then the magic starts to wear off a bit once the conflict is introduced.

 

The first forty-five minutes or so of White Christmas are adorably sweet (perhaps to a sickly degree, but I have no problem with it). The tone, the comedy, and the chemistry are all a joy to behold. But then we reach Vermont, and are presented with one of those tedious and bizarrely common misunderstanding subplots, and it really starts to harsh the mellow for me - especially because we have to spend upwards of half an hour watching these two romantic leads argue with each other over literally nothing.

 

Fortunately, everything else keeps spirits bright. The songs are still pleasant, the performances are still charming, and, most of all, the whole thing just looks fantastic. Between the VistaVision format (which this movie was apparently the very first to use), the Technicolor processing, and the beautiful sets, every single frame pops off the screen, really adding to the buoyant mood and colourful presentation.

 

Wouldn't have minded a little more Christmas, though. Outside of the title track and the closing scene, you might as well have called this movie Green Summer. 

 

Grade: B+

 

#106. Cry-Baby (1990)

 

 

The great thing about John Waters is that, no matter how mainstream his movies became, that sense of ugly tastelessness remained.

 

Cry-Baby is probably his single most accessible feature. It has catchy '50s music, fun dance numbers, generally agreeable comedy, and a charmingly self-aware performance from Johnny Depp. And yet, while you're watching the movie, you never once forget that it was made by the guy who got Divine to eat dog shit.

 

This reminder is present in the campy visuals, the over-the-top line deliveries, the unusual casting choices, and the intentionally cringy atmosphere. You can decide for yourself whether these are inherently good qualities (I'll admit that they're not always my thing), but I definitely give Waters credit for maintaining that strange and repulsive voice. At the very least, it results in a product that makes Grease look downright restrained.

 

If you've never seen a Waters movie before, this is a pretty safe place to start (and if you end up finding it too weird, stay far away from anything else he ever made). Having said that, though, I don't think I'd place it among his best work. The story's not always super engaging, and it's slightly lacking in the edge that made his better movies feel substantial. 

 

Grade: B

#61. The Phantom of the Opera (2004)

 

Call me a basic Broadway bitch, but The Phantom of the Opera is one of the very few shows that has ever even remotely interested me. I guess I just like the lavish aesthetics of it: the opulent opera setting, the eerie and foreboding tone, the wintery atmosphere, the histrionic emotions, etc. So I've actually always been a little curious as to how I'd respond to this adaptation.

 

As expected, the results were kinda mixed. Those stylish elements are all present (perhaps overly so, though I suppose most people watch something like this for its over-the-top presentation), but the kitschiness of it all sometimes detracted from the gentler aspects, like the romance and the tragedy. And it causes the central story to feel even more leaden and airless than it already was.

 

Still, cluttered as they might be, the visuals are quite strong. And while the narrative might not've been especially interesting, Joel Schumacher's dedication to camp and melodrama certainly helped to keep things lively.

 

Grade: B

 

P.S. Yes, Gerard Butler's incredibly miscast as The Phantom, and Emmy Rossum blows him out of the water at every turn, but he was also nowhere near as grating as I was expecting. Small victories.

 

#22. Easter Parade (1948)

 

 

There really is something transcendental about those sweet, simple Technicolor musicals of the '40s and '50s, isn't there?

 

That's not to say that they were all great movies or anything. Frankly, even Easter Parade has its faults, primarily in its story-heavy structuring and its emphasis on a love square that I didn't find particularly compelling (or convincing, for that matter; at the movie's conclusion, I found myself wondering if Garland was actually making the right decision). But then you remember just how warm, colourful, and lively the visuals are, and these issues suddenly seem a lot more trivial.

 

Plus, I should probably touch on the main selling point, which is obviously the extravagant dance numbers. I'm not sure that any of these songs have fully achieved immortality status (though "Steppin' Out with My Baby" must come close, especially in that one shot where Astaire's moving in slow motion against a background of normal-speed backup dancers), but that doesn't really matter. What matters is that Irving Berlin's tunes are so endearing and delightful, and watching these two leads perform together is such a genuine pleasure, that the best elements of this movie are just a joy to behold. 

 

Grade: B+