Archive for the ‘classic movies’ Category

As you — and likely everyone in the world who’s ever watched a motion picture — are probably aware, Disney recently purchased LucasFilm and expressed their intent to release new installments in the Star Wars franchise beginning in 2015.

Now, I’m going to try to state this as diplomatically as possible: the Prequel Trilogy, and most recent Star Wars films, are a reeking pile of rat garbage.

And it’s not just hyper-sensitive fanboys like myself who felt like George Lucas single-handedly crushed our childhoods into dust. Newly-introduced elements like Jar Jar Binks and “Nooooooooooo” have become the stuff of pop culture parody and Phantom Menace got a shameful 57% on Rotten Tomatoes (Revenge of the Sith somehow scored 80%, which I think we can all agree was overly generous…Hayden F*ing Christensen).

But the news of the forthcoming and long-expected episodes 7,8 and 9 have given me pause for reflection, and optimism. As I’ve digested the thought of new adventures in a galaxy far, far away, I’ve feel impressed to suggest to the filmakers a few simple tips on how to avoid the mistakes of Star Wars’ past and return to the greatness of Star Wars’ paster.

1. Give me puppets or give me death (on second thought, just give me puppets)

George Lucas has, by all accounts of perception, a love affair with computer generated imagery. Compared to the tangible, visually impressive characters created for the original trilogy — which were often operated by several puppeteers or, in the case of the tuskan raider’s bantha, consisted of an actual elephant dressed in a costume. That’s right, they put a costume on a freaking elephant!

I got sidetracked, where was I? Oh yes. Compared to that, the prequel trilogy exists in a world where a handful of actors interacted with digitally-rendered characters, in a digitally-rendered landscape, spouting what felt like digitally-rendered wooden dialogue. It was a cartoon, only a cartoon where Hayden Christensen ran around moping in some type of skirt-coat. In other words, it was the worst cartoon ever.

Compare the awesomeness of Jabba the Hut, dripping with slime and saliva, licking his lips and ogling Carrie Fisher in the gold bikini, to the overblown gimmickry of General Grievous. Compare Max Rebo, the purple piano-playing elephant in Jabba’s palace to Sebulba, the annoying, dog-like villain who spars with young Anakin Skywalker in the podracer…race, man that really seems redundant when you spell that out: podracer race? Podrace?

Puppet Yoda is superior in every way to jumping dancing cartoon Yoda. Yes, Frank Oz is irreplaceable but come on, we can do better.

Or forget puppets and just focus on characters that you could actually reach out and touch.  R2D2 with Kenny Baker inside was superior to the fire-spewing, flying R2D2 of the prequel trilogy. Plus, explain to me how R2D2 lost the ability to fly? What?

Or, Compare Chewbacca to Jar Jar. ‘Nuff said.

2. Build something

This is a continuation of number one, but from the perspective of the sets. Part of what makes Han Solo’s entry into the storyline so awesome is the gritty backdrop of a seedy dive on Mos Eisley, a “wretched hive of scum and villainy.” And that’s only the beginning. There’s the carbonite trap and the tunnels where Vader and Luke fight in the Cloud City. There’s the forest moon of Endor, the Sarlack Pit and — of course — Jabba’s palace on Tatooine that seems to engage all five senses while you watch.

Whereas the prequels, for all their whiz-bang production of colors and lights, pale in comparison. It’s hard to care too much about the capitol planet of Coruscant, or the underwater city of Gunga, when it’s is so obviously the creation of ones and zeroes on a computer. In Attack of the Clones, Obi-Wan’s investigations take him to a CG-diner, where he talks to a CG waiter, then to a CG floating city where he talks with, what appears to be, the weird aliens from the end of A.I., also rendered in CG.

Give us something we can reach out and touch. Give us metal bars covered in rust and grime to imprison Solo and Chewbacca behind. Give us dusty shadows to lurk behind and the blinding, seering desert sun of Tatooine. You’ve got all the money you could possibly ask for, go to hobby lobby and Home Depot, buy some props and build a freaking set for a change.

With CG, less is more. When in doubt, make it real.

3. Bring back the original cast

Sure, Carrie Fisher and Mark Hamill’s stars have fallen somewhat and sure, Harrison looks more like Emperor Palpatine than Han Solo these days, but Luke, Leia, Han and Chewy are precisely what made us fall in love with Star Wars. Even if they were to spout the same nonsense that passed for diologue between Hayden Christensen and Natalie Portman, it still would tickle any Wars fan blushing pink to see the OGs waltz on screen.

They don’t have to be the leads. In fact, it only makes sense that 7-9 would focus on their children, with each trilogy telling the story of a different generation of the Skywalker family. But give us Han and Leia growing old together on some moon. Give us Luke training some punk would-be Jedi, Ben Kenobi style.

And just to be safe, avoid child actors altogether, and if you can round up Billy Dee Williams, even better.

4. No more robot villains (or, in a word: Stormtroopers).

We get it, waging a war against an army of droids makes it easier to have bloodless violence and, by extension, secure the PG rating. But when your antagonists are made of bolts and wires it really isn’t any surprise when the tension comes of as superficial and, yes, soulless.

I miss the Stormtroopers, with their clumsy yet threatening monotony. I miss the imperial officers, wincing in terror at Vader’s threats and rolling their eyes behind his back. I miss real human beings with real human emotion.

And it wasn’t just the nameless armies. Remember General Grievous? The six-armed robot dog with whooping cough that was supposed to be some sort of dramatic precursor to Anakin’s cyborg transformation? Sure, Vader was more machine than man but he was also emotionally conflicted, had James Earl Jones’ vocal chords and was an interstellar B.A. Plus, he may have been mostly machine but he was played by a living, breathing human being, unlike the digitally-rendered Grievous who made it look like Ewan McGregor was having a lightsaber battle with a local TV weather forecast wall.

Plus, there’s no tension with robots. You could drop an atom bomb and it would have the emotional implications of shaking a silverware drawer. How about some moral ambiguity? How about some higher stakes? You don’t have to go full-Nolan but come on, let’s not forget how dark Empire got.

5. Never again speak the word “Midi-chlorians

Seriously never. Ever. Ne-Ver!

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Former Cinedome 70, Riverdale, UT

This should come as no surprise, but I watched a lot of movies growing up. Despite what I often say, it wasn’t EVERY Saturday that my parents would round all 5 of us Wood kids — or at least those of us that were still young enough to not have “better things to do” — and head to Ogden for a show, but just about.

A fairly typical Saturday at the Wood home would consist of completing our chores in the morning — after cartoons of course — a quick lunch, then down to the Newgate mall for a dollar-movie in the afternoon. After the show we’d stop at the Smith’s on 12th street, where each child was given $1 — sometimes $1.50 on special occasions — to purchase whatever they could to take back home and cook for dinner. I was always a sucker for frozen burritos, they came 3 for $1 back then. Or some days I would get a frozen personal pizza (75 cents) and a yogurt, or I’d pool my money with Leah for a more elaborate dish like Ravioli.

Smith’s was good for two reasons. First, there was a video rental store inside the smiths. We had a very democratic system for selecting a movie that would please anywhere from 4 to 7 people, consisting of a piles of ‘yes’, ‘no’ and ‘maybe’ and multiple rounds of voting and vetoes. Once Mandie and Jake grew up and had friends, Dad and I were often outnumbered by the women but still managed to squeak a Bond or Rocky movie through. Then of course there were mom’s choices; strange, obscure, sometimes disturbing selections that she had ‘heard about somewhere’ and to this day provide our family with converstion points at Thanksgiving.

The second reason? Smith’s on 12th street was right next to the Mini-mart and if we could subliminally remind Dad that he needed to fill up the car (you had to be subtle, or else the jig was up) then he would buy us 3 for $1 corn dogs and tater tots if we were extra lucky. We’d run home and clamber around the kitchen, a din of madness as 4-7 people cooked 4-7 seperate meals, and then we’d head downstairs for our second movie of the day. We didn’t do popcorn, we did ice cream and if you’ve never had to divide a quart into 7 equal portions (yeah, SEVEN!) then you’re luckier than my mother. (Tip: get the box quart, not the bucket)

Like I said before, these were the days before Megaplexes, when actual Moviehouses still reigned supreme. The Newgate was our go-to for the price. Around the time I was 12 they gutted the theater to make way for a new, shiny, 14-screen mall stain that, to this day, is overpriced. When you make a habit out of taking 7 people to the movies, you have to look for a bargain: matinees, discount theaters. Now that I’m older, my friends think I’m crazy when I suggest a Saturday morning movie, but I still believe it’s the only way. Easy on the wallet, less crowds, and when you come outside the sun is shining and you have the whole day ahead of you.

Discount theaters come at a price, however, and for a family of movie buffs sometimes you have to see the new release and sometimes you have to see it right. In the 80s and 90s, in Ogden, Utah, there was one place to really see a movie, and that was at the Cinedome.


In hindsight, the Cinedome was too good for Ogden. It was too good for the lot of us, but for a few years we had it. It was the antithesis of today’s movie market. An independent theater, consisting of only two giant screens housed in arching domes. It was more than a theater, it was a shrine to cinema, a mecca for cinemaphiles. The seats were concave rows of plush at stadium slope (before that was common). The screen was framed by draping red curtains. The roof of the theater towered over you and the circular space seemed to vanish altogether when the lights dimmed and the fanfare began. To this day I have never lost myself better than I did in the Cinedome.

I remember seeing Jumanji there with all of my cousins. When the original Star Wars trilogy was re-released in the late 90s we saw each and every one at the Domes.

The Cinedome shut it’s doors in 2001. It was demolished last year.

Last weekend I found myself thinking about the old Cinedome. I was at the Lincoln Center 13 in New York watching Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. Lincoln Center is one of the finest moviehouses I’ve visited and my experience watching that movie, perched on the front row of the upper mezzanine watching a slow-burn throwback to 1970s British espionage, was one of the best I’ve ever had. After the movie I was so delighted, I found myself running through great movie memories: Inception at Midnight at the University 6 in Logan, Serenity with my freshman roommates at the Providence 8, Alien vs. Predator at midnight with Jesse at the Tinseltown Newgate, Spider-man at Jordan Commons, Fellowship of the Ring at the Cineplex Oedian in Layton, Jurrasic Park with my cousins at the Layton Hills Mall — I remember hearing my sister screaming from the other side of the theater — Hellboy at the Provo Town Centre, sneaking into Blade 2 at The Reel Theater on 12th, Finding Nemo (my first date) with Kelsey at the Northpointe.

It didn’t take long before I got to Jumanji, sitting between my cousins Nick and Tony sharing a giant tub of popcorn — I swear they were bigger back then — and being dazzled by the indoor monsoon scene or the giant spiders (they’ve aged, obviously, but they still look pretty good all things considered).

People often ask me what my “dream” is. They assume that if all barriers were torn down I’d be some hot-shot reporter, a movie reviewer, or maybe even a Hollywood screenwriter. I wouldn’t. If I had a million dollars I would rebuild the domes. I’d operate it at a loss if I had too. We’d show two movies, hand selected for their quality and their ability to make your eyes go wide. I’d boot you for texting, and shine a flashlight in your face if your phone even rang. During the week we’d show vintage classics on one screen: Casablanca, Strangers on a Train, It’s a Wonderful Life. I’d figure out a way to bring the limiteds, like this year’s Tinker, Tailor and The Artist. But most importantly we’d have The Cinedome. We’d have the red curtains. We’d have the magic.

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