The Princess Bride

Created out of subservience (“As you wish…”), Westley and Buttercup’s love is pure. The age-old problem – class – comes between them.

Westley, a simple farm boy, leaves to seek his fortune, thinking that this will help equalise them, so he can afford to marry her. Buttercup gets news that he has died. She goes into mourning, but, years, later, agrees to marry Prince Humperdink, because, if she can never love again, she might as well marry for status and money.

She becomes the titular ‘Princess Bride’. When re-united with Westley, he reveals he has become a pirate. Specifically, the Dread Pirate Roberts, who supposedly killed him. There is an even greater class gulf between them, for just as Westley mocks her devotion to royalty over love, she accuses him of being responsible for all her pain.

This gulf is personified in Prince Humperdink. He wants to kill Westley, marry Buttercup, and then kill her too to start a war. Not only does this show remarkable prescience and political relevancy even today, it makes him quite literally devoid of love. He is a hunter.

When Westley’s in the Pit of Despair, he hangs onto the mantra of “True Love”. It’s this that keeps us through our own pits of despair, and, literally, death, in Westley’s case.

Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.

Buttercup, when, in the seemingly inescapable clutches of Prince Humperdink, never gives up her faith in love. She offers this:

Westley and I are joined by the bonds of love. And you cannot track that, not with a thousand bloodhounds, and you cannot break it, not with a thousand swords.

The film ultimately is a challenge to the audience to live up to these words, this ideal. Is true love possible outside a fairy-tale world?

The film says: try it and see.

Misery

This is basically the gender-reversed psycho-thriller version of Romancing the Stone.

Paul Sheldon (James Caan) is a famous romance novelist. He’s on a roll, having just killed off his persistently popular main character, Misery, and completed a new, different novel at the start of the film. It’s pretty obvious this is an analogue for Stephen King (who wrote the novel): pigeon-holed into a genre he can’t escape from because of his (sometimes manic) fans.

Did I say manic? I meant insane. When Paul crashes his car, he’s rescued by a mysterious woman. Annie Wilkes (Kathy Bates) professes herself to be his biggest fan. She slowly nurses him back to health, while he slowly realises she’s not going to let him go.

Each scene brings a new grab for power between the “couple”, much the way a traditional romantic comedy would.

It would seem that Paul’s in the worse position. His legs are shattered – confining him to the guest bedroom or his wheelchair. Annie’s bipolar. She will literally do anything it takes to get what she wants, short of maybe killing him. There’s also the weather. No-one knows where he is, and they won’t find his car until the snow melts.

But he wields a great power: the power of Misery. Of romance. The type that captivates a woman such as Annie. She can force him to write a new novel for him, Misery’s Return, but she can’t kill him until he’s done.

(I would strongly recommend the book as well. It goes deeper into Paul’s head and even shows us some of the new novel he’s forced to write.)

At the climax (SPOILERS), Paul manages to overpower Annie, and kill her. He’s triumphed over her, won the twistedly romantic power play that’s run the whole movie.

But even when she’s dead and gone, his memory of her lives on…

Hercules Unchained

Hercules, his wife, and some other guy arrive in Thebes only to find the King, Oedipus, has been overthrown by his own sons, and his son, in turn, has been outed by his other son. And Hercules was on vacation. Well, that will have to wait, because it’s time to “convince” the other son to honour his agreement (a.k.a., “kick Theben butt”).

He keeps getting sidetracked. First he has to wrestle a guy awkwardly until he gets too uncomfortable and Hercules can throw him into the water.

Well this is awkward.

Hercules is shirtless throughout the first half an hour. This poses a problem when his foe is also shirtless. It’s hard to tell them apart. Luckily, he’s up against soldiers and the like for the rest of the movie, who thankfully and sensibly keep their armour on. I was beginning to fear a repeat of 300, with its homo-eroticism and macho warriors. No slo-mo, though.

But when he gets to Thebes, the brother just gives up the throne immediately. So… what? That’s the end of the movie? No, cos Hercules drinks from the waters of forgetfulness (thank you, disembodied narrator, for explaining that for us). So he forgets his important message that tells the other brother not to invade Thebes.

He also forgets to not wear a shirt.

Then they’re captured by soldiers, and yada yada yada. Most of the plot was lost on me, but this much was clear: Hercules has to remember who he is in time to escape from the evil whore queen who’s captured him and save Thebes. So the plot of the movie revolves around…

I’ve been a fan of Ray Harryhousen films since I was a kid. Even though the special effects don’t hold up that well, the story-telling, especially how it drew on Greek myths and legends, still entranced me. They drew on the earlier Hercules films, although arguably improved on their formula, by adding plot, drama, characters, and kick-ass special effects to the Ancient Greek setting.

Although they deal with a different nationality of people and are more mystical, the Sinbad movies are very similar to the Hercules movies. Jason and the Argonauts even has a brief subplot including Hercules.

But the difference is, you can watch those films for the spectacle alone because of the special effects. Here, a lot more of the duty lands on the shoulders of the actors. While George Reeves can carry the weight of a giant polystyrene rock, he can’t really carry the narrative weight of the whole film.

I still enjoyed it, but it could’ve done more.

Romancing the Stone

Joan Wilder (Kathleen Turner) doesn’t believe in love. We’ve seen this in romantic comedies before. An extra layer of irony is added when it is revealed that she makes a living from, basically, exploiting the idea of romantic love.

We all know these books. They often have a particular imprint label and inter-changeable authors. You can’t step foot in a library or used book store without seeing these. The cynical manipulation of love in romance novels targeted towards women is an interesting area.

Her sister is kidnapped and she has to travel to Colombia to help her. She meets Jack T. Colton (Mike Douglas), a rugged adventurer who’s almost diametrically opposed to her. Witness the scene when he ‘modifies’ her heels:

Joan: These were Italian.

Jack: Now they’re practical.

While in many adventure stories and films the romance plays a convenient second fiddle to the plot, here it’s front and center (see title).

She has the information needed to find the treasure. But he has the know-how to survive. Can they trust each other?

This makes the climax all the more exciting. She’s in danger. Does she trust him enough with information that could get her sister killed? Does he love her? Will he rescue her?

The stakes of the adventure plot hinge on the love story. That’s clever writing.

Cinema’s Worst Romances: Bride of Frankenstein

To give some balance, here’s the first of a series on worst cinematic romances. Not badly written or executed particularly, but cinema’s super unhealthy relationships.

Frankenstein’s monster is dead at the start of this film. He was killed in the last film. Oh wait, no he’s not.

Meanwhile, Henry Frankenstein is “happily” married. Maybe his relationship should be examined here, but his wife doesn’t really get enough screen time to warrant it (all she has is scream time). Doctor Pretorius has been advancing his research however, and his next ambition is to create…

A woman!

Frankenstein was always the loneliest monster. He’s feared, misunderstood by people who want to kill him for being an abomination of nature. Even his creator doesn’t understand him.

Dr. Pretorius understands him. He understands that the monster needs a mate, a bride to keep him under control. Indeed, the Monster is in search of a friend throughout the film, and is persuaded that the Bride can fulfil this role.

But instead, all he can see in the Bride that would be his ‘mate’ is a reflection of his own ugliness, how he’ll never be able to fit into society. He realises that if such a monster needs to be created for him to have a relationship that society approves of, he doesn’t want to conform to Pretorius’ will.

He kills them all rather than be married to her.

Click here for an earlier post, on Frankenstein as an allegory for man.

Cinema’s Greatest Romances: Casablanca

New post every other week-day in February on cinema’s romances. Note SPOILERS for each film discussed.

Ilsa: I wasn’t sure you were the same. Let’s see, the last time we met…
Rick: Was La Belle Aurore.
Ilsa: How nice, you remembered. But of course, that was the day the Germans marched into Paris.
Rick: Not an easy day to forget.
Ilsa: No.
Rick: I remember every detail. The Germans wore gray, you wore blue.

-Humphrey Bogart & Ingrid Bergman, Casablanca.

Relationships that start under intense circumstances, they never last.

-Sandra Bullock, Speed.

One of the classic romances. Casablanca, that is, not Speed.

When we meet him, Rick is a broken man, eking out a living with his bar. He doesn’t stick his neck out for nobody. Basically, He’s Humphrey Bogart.

Enter Ilse, his lost love and Achilles’ heel. Is his love for her sill strong enough to overcome his instincts and help out her and her husband? Or will the bitterness and self-preservation learned from when she jilted him in Paris triumph over love?

It’s this fundamental conflict – love against logic – that forms the basis for this love story. However, the solution is not as clear as one would think.

Rick could follow love blindly, escaping with Ilsa from the life and country’s he’s stuck in. Or he could follow his brain; cold logic would extend the isolationist attitude to Ilsa and her politically dangerous husband. He could allow the authorities to do what they will with the couple.

But the genius of the film is that neither of these obvious endings are taken. Rick can’t allow himself to be engulfed by love again, but he can’t ignore it either. In the end he makes the right, but difficult decision. They escape without him.

This is an ironic ending. When the love story is at a high point, the espionage story is at a low point. There’s a happy ending for the latter, but not so much for the former.

So in the end, logic and love are in balance. Rick has learnt compassion. Ilsa has learnt to survive. The movie doesn’t condemn either.

They’re both necessary to be human.

Flash Fiction End Thoughts and Links

When I started this month, I had no idea what I was doing. Over the month, I’ve think I’ve developed my voice pretty well, considering how hard it is to write a complete story in 100 words.

It’s hard to choose favourites, but most of the first week was pretty bad in comparison to the last half. At the beginning I had built a sizeable buffer, but by the end each post was written the previous evening. It’s hard to choose favourites, but most of the first week was pretty bad in comparison to the last half. At the beginning I had built a sizeable buffer, but by the end each post was written the previous evening.

I have to admit, the photographs were much better than the drawings.

This also made me think more about a posting schedule. Shorter week-day posts on a monthly theme (probably to do with movies) and then a week-end post on whatever I feel like.

I would also like to link you to two sites today:

moderatebalance.wordpress.com

This here’s my brother’s blog. Read it if you want.

watchandchain.wordpress.com

This here’s my other blog, started just recently. It’s going to be detailing my struggles (oh, I hope there won’t be struggles) getting a short film project made, finally.

More details on their respective sites.

Thanks everybody.

The Brain that Wouldn’t Die

Also titled the less impressive The Head That Wouldn't Die.

So how can this title go wrong?

This renegade surgeon, to prove to the world he isn’t crazy, takes his wife’s severed head from a car accident and brings it back to life. Understandably, she’s a bit miffed about being resurrected as a body-less horror, and so plots to kill him. Now, that may sound difficult in her present state, but there’s a monster in one of the cupboards, a result of his previous failed experiments, who somehow still understands English. She tells the monster to do stuff while the surgeon is out scouting a new body for her.

A new sexy body!

There’s also this other wannabe surgeon who hangs around with the main guy a lot. He has a withered hand – another result of a previous experiment – and is just sticking around until the crazy surgeon perfects his transplant technique and can give him a real arm. Cos surgeons kinda need two arms.

Wait. This surgeon invents transplanting. When was this made? One quick check of Wikipedia tells me that this was made in 1959 and released in 1962, while there had only been two transplants before that (a cornea 1905 and a kidney in 1954). It’s a bit weird seeing it now, when this woman just had a face transplant and this guy just had a double arm transplant.

(Interesting side note: this film basically came true in 1970, when Dr. Robert White, a neurosurgeon at the Metro Health Care Centre in Cleveland, managed to swap the heads of living monkeys around, and they stayed alive for hours. For some reason, no-one’s ever tried it on humans, and now PETA will get all up in your ass for doing something like that.)

Science will never be this fun again. Thanks a lot, ethics.

But who cares about science? This movie has it all: a severed head; a deformed monster made of bad special effects discarded dead human tissue; two mad scientists who are playing God; one sane scientist who tells them they’re playing God; two strippers who cat-fight over the mad scientist (?); a beauty contest; a scarred man-hating model; and actual gore (a rarity for movies from this period). Everything you could want in a movie.

One thing really irritated me. A surgeon is a Mr., not a Dr., yet everyone refers to him as Dr. in this film. He even refers to himself as a doctor, so maybe I’m mistaken, but in the first scene he’s definitely a surgeon.

It’s in the public domain peeps, so check it out at the Internet Archive.

Flash Fiction: Say Cheese

Faded cardboard packaging.

A rat scurries across the room, looking for nutrition.

The once vibrant shop is now old and decrepit.

Satanic symbols across the walls. Paper blowing everywhere, from through the cracked windows. Everything coated in a layer of green grime.

Outside is the street. Same condition. The city is dead. No survivors.

I sit slumped in the corner, watching the movement.

I pounce. The rat squirms in my hands.

I study its face. His beady eyes. Large teeth.

His head separates easily. I eat the rest.

I don’t know how long it will be until my next meal.

Flash Fiction: Machine

Machine

An amalgamation of body parts and whirring cogs and gears.

This stumbles out of the hospital into the sunlight, shielding its eyes with its arm.

Arm? Is this still an arm?

Shutters close over his camera eyes as they adjust to the light of the sun.

Vaguely masculine features. He extends his arms, pulls them up to his head, flexing muscles wound taught across metal bone.

Likewise with legs. Bending at the knees.

Bald head turns, metal tubes bulging in neck.

“Brain function stable.”

Scientists look at the unconscious figure bolted to the table. Deep underground.

“Ready for field testing.”