At the risk of sending off strong “old man yells at cloud” vibes, I had to roll my eyes when I saw this as the lede to a story on a major entertainment news site:
Filmmaker Anthony Hemingway has signed on to direct a present-day remake of the 1996 film “The Preacher’s Wife” from Bassett Vance Productions and Anthony Hemingway Productions.
That lede raises the question of what counts as original source material.
1996’s The Preacher’s Wife, starring Denzel Washington, Whitney Houston and Courtney B. Vance, was itself a remake of the 1947 movie The Bishop’s Wife with Cary Grant, Loretta Young, and David Niven, itself an adaptation of a 1928 novel.
The slight name change was due to the idea of a bishop seeming a bit outdated and…well…white in 1996 if I remember correctly, though the story remained largely the same. But it’s still marked as a remake of the original. At the very least it’s another adaptation of the novel. Either way the foundation of the material goes back to the first half of the 20th century.
It would be like referring to a new version of Miracle on 34th Street as a remake of the 1994 movie instead of the 1947 original. Or someone’s recording “I Will Always Love You” as a cover of Whitney Houston’s song instead of it being Dolly Parton’s.
Then again even the BBC’s YouTube channel has Taylor Swift singing “Can’t Stop Loving You” designated as a Phil Collins cover instead of a White Horse/William Nicholls cover. So I’m not sure why I’m surprised.
It’s somewhat understandable that artists and fans may not always make this kind of distinction. Someone who grew up solely with the 1996 The Preacher’s Wife may simply not have the context to frame a new version appropriately. Just the other day I was thinking about how I grew up with the Kenny Rogers/Sheena Easton version of “We’ve Got Tonight” and went the better part of 10 years before learning Bob Seger wrote and recorded the song five years before it showed up on a record from Rogers.
But we live in the age of the internet and a simple Wikipedia search would provide the necessary background. And the expectations should be higher for anyone calling themselves a reporter. A decent editor should have caught it before the story was published.
To a great extent this tendency to reference the most recent iteration instead of diving all the way back to the source material is a product of the entertainment industry’s fascination with endlessly remaking the same properties over and over again.
That’s not new, either. The Philadelphia Story began life as a play before being made into a theatrical feature twice and adapted thrice for TV productions. But it’s only going to get worse as originals (or initial adaptations) from the early- or mid-20th century are superseded in the public consciousness by new versions from the 90s or 00s which have become for many people the de facto originals.
While I’m certainly not going to insist that everyone see the *actual* originals in order to appreciate the remake – just like I’m not going to insist everyone watch Rashomon in order to fully appreciate the genius of Star Wars: The Last Jedi, though they really should – we can at least ask the people who are bringing us the news of remakes, reboots and reimaginings to frame that news accurately and appropriately.
Before there was a shared cinematic universe. Before there was Edward Norton, much less Mark Ruffalo. Before he was part of a team. Before all that there were…Hulk Dogs. And they were awesome.
This might seem like a massive troll coming a few months after the release of Avengers: Infinity War, but it’s not. I come not to simply take a position opposite that of conventional wisdom but to earnestly and unironically praise 2003’s Hulk as directed by Ang Lee.
No, the movie does not have a good reputation, having failed to a large extent to counter the negative reaction to a disastrous Super Bowl commercial that offered the first look at a CGI Hulk, reportedly before visual effects work was complete. That it was rebooted just five years later with a new actor as part of the launch of the Marvel Cinematic Universe is a testament to how Universal Studios wanted to unremember the divisive 2003 film
I am telling you, though, that the movie is worth a fresh look. It’s not exactly tied directly into the MCU as it exists today, but if you squint you can make certain elements of it work as the backstory that’s alluded to in 2008’s The Incredible Hulk, but it’s also alright if you don’t want to put in that much effort. Even standing on its own the movie has a lot of positives working in its favor.
The Visual Style
Even as this is the least controversial position you can possibly take on the movie, saying it out loud will still get you run out of Comic-Con on a (light) rail. Lee’s decision to incorporate comic book-like panel structures to some of the scenes in the film turned a lot of people off in 2003. It was too confusing for many and didn’t win it any new fans.
Darnit, though, if the movie doesn’t have a wholly unique and captivating vibe when that conceit is employed, though. It’s shocking to me that so many subsequent movies have been praised for “really looking like a comic book” when this one *literally* looked like a comic book. Watch this scene and see how you can follow the conversation characters are having with each other because of the panel structure. You’re able to see everyone who’s talking without contrived cutaways or off-screen dialogue
If there’s a problem with this idea it’s that it’s not executed often enough. Good stretches of the movie go by without it being used, so when it does come back – usually during action sequences – it can be a bit jarring. It certainly is memorable, though, and Lee deserves a lot of credit for experimenting with the look and feel of the super hero genre before it succumbed to producer-inflicted uniformity.
Finally, I don’t mind the bright green version of Hulk used here. I think most of the blowback to this look for the character came more from that just three years earlier Cyclops, in X-Men, had mocked the idea of “bright yellow spandex” costumes. The black leather costumes there, the subdued colors of Spider-Man’s outfit…we were still coming out of the 90s and the dark, gritty vibe comics had adopted for over a decade. The conventional wisdom at the time held that comic book movies couldn’t look too much like comic books with their vibrancy. It would be another five to 10 years before The MCU changed that.
The Hulk as Petulant Child
One of the problems with the Hulk as a character is that his motivations are often ill-defined if they exist at all. In the comics he’s gone from the lumbering Hyde-like incarnation to a semi-literate ape to a Vegas casino bouncer to an interplanetary gladiator and more. Hulk’s retention of Banner’s intelligence has ebbed and flowed from one character to the other, but it’s been hard to paint him as Captain America-like hero because he never seems to have a driving ethos aside from “rage” or “anger.”
The version created by James Schamus, who wrote the film’s screenplay, positions him as Frankenstein’s monster, freshly born from the lab and confused about his identity and place in the world. He is lashing out because he doesn’t know the consequences of his power and has no one there to explain things to him.
In this way, Hulk here is not necessarily the pure-Id he’s sometimes painted to be. He is not acting out because he is raw power unleashed, free from conscience and norm. He’s a toddler with the power of Hercules at his disposal. The one tether he retains to his Banner persona is the trauma inflicted by the actions of his father, trauma he doesn’t have the means to express in a healthier manner. A 1-year-old does not cry when he can’t reach the cookie jar because he’s an entitled jerk but because he lacks the language to communicate more effectively. The 28-year-old who screams because his soy chai latte isn’t hot enough…that’s the jerk.
Here’s where I’m going to defend the narrative purpose served by the much-maligned Hulk Dogs. Yes, they’re kind of goofy and certainly came out of nowhere. What they show, though, is the indifference with which Banner’s father sees his son. He was just another means to an end, an attitude represented by the fact that animals were his next attempt. View them as part of his overall character and his callous disregard for scientific protocols and human life and you see how they fit into the story.
Again, if there’s issue to be taken with this portrayal it’s that it doesn’t go far enough while also getting bogged down in the story of how Banner’s father used him as an unwitting test subject as a child. The stronger story there is how children who grow up after losing both parents might harbor resentment they are still dealing with later in life, resentment that when triggered can lead to lashing out and heightened feelings of anger.
The Hulk’s Evolving Powers
Building on that point above, one of the more interesting elements utilized by Schamus and Lee is the idea that Hulk grows not only stronger the angrier he gets but physically larger. That’s something that, again, has been inconsistently explored in the comics over the years but it makes as much sense as anything else about the character. If he goes from human to jade giant because he’s angry it stands to (suspension of disbelief-aided) reason that he would become even bigger the more he’s provoked.
Watch this clip from shortly after Banner’s first transformation into the creature. He’s grasping desperately at the device as if he’s unsure if he can handle it or not. Contrast that with scenes later in the film where Hulk handily grabs a missile from mid-air and flings tanks left and right. Also note how Hulk’s initial leap from the rooftop isn’t very strong or very far, while later he’s seemingly covering miles at a time, practically flying through the air.
An All-Time DGAF Nick Nolte Performance
Nolte’s performance ranks as one of the great “I don’t even know what movie I’m in, I’m just going for it” turns in cinematic history. Your tolerance and taste for this will certainly vary, but for my money when he mocks his son’s whining while they’re both strapped in by Gen. Ross…it’s just fantastic, while also being a reminder that Bruce is dealing with a father who saw him as just another variable in his experiments, not a human being who needed love and caring.
OK, There Are Issues
Eric Bana just can’t summon enough personality for us to really care when Banner is on screen. He’s giving Episode II Hayden Christensen a run for his money in the “Most Bland Performance Of The Early 2000s” here. Also, How can you give Jennifer Connelly that little to do? More broadly, why does Hollywood keep giving talented actresses so little to do in super hero movies as a whole? I’m looking at you Zack Snyder, and your constant wasting of Amy Adams.
Those performances are contrasted against Sam Shepherd, who’s able to do more with his role as Gen. Ross than he should be able to. And Josh Lucas as Glenn Talbot is so mustache-twirling broad in his performance you’d think he was selling it to the cheap seats, blowing past caricature to be…not bad.
The future incarnations of Hulk, both from Norton and Ruffalo, had the advantage of not needing to cover the origin details. Again, if you want to make the end of Hulk, where Banner goes off to live in South America, fit with the opening of The Incredible Hulk where he’s keeping a low profile working in a bottling plant, you can. And if you want to make the end of that movie, where he’s gone off to get zen about his powers, fit with where we find Banner at the beginning of The Avengers, you can. You don’t need to, but you can. Both, though, were able to portray a weary Banner who had experience with the monster inside, something Bana couldn’t.
Hulk as (Fill in the Blank)
As I said above, Hulk has never been an easy character with one *definitive* interpretation that’s held fast over the last 50 years. What the version envisioned by Ang Lee and James Schamus offer here is one who represents the dangers of unexpressed emotions built up over a lifetime. Put aside the science and military elements of the story and you have someone struggling to simply come to terms with what he’s feeling and process that in a healthy way.
Those have, for me, always been the most interesting Hulk stories. When he was introduced in the 60s he was the lumbering brute representing the darkness that simmered under the surface of polite society. That version has come back over the years a few times with various twists.
Perhaps that’s why Ruffalo’s Hulk in The Avengers was so intriguing. At one point he talks about how if Nick Fury’s plan is to kill him it’s not going to work. “I got low,” he says, and tried to kill himself, only to have “the other guy’ spit the bullet right back out. Then, during the final battle, he reveals his secret to maintaining control: “I’m always angry.” That idea of anger – expressed, repressed and under control – is setup in Hulk and Avengers, but almost completely abandoned in Incredible, where the secret to not Hulking out is (checks notes) not letting your heart rate rise too high.
There are certainly issues with the movie, as there are with most. Sure, you can laugh at the Hulk Dogs if you want. But appreciate how Lee and Schamus weren’t making a super hero movie but one that held a mirror up to the dark places found in the human psyche with Hulk as metaphor and allegory and you have a much different film, one that deserves at least a second look.
If you remember back to late 2016, the internet was hotly debating the topic of cultural appropriation. The conversation was centered around La La Land, the latest movie to signal a resurgence of musicals that’s failed to take off any of the last six times in the previous 15 years it’s been pegged as the next big genre because of one movie’s success. People were upset, often seriously but sometimes jokingly, that Ryan Gosling’s struggling club musician was being positioned as the savior of jazz, a traditionally black musical art form.
This debate came back to mind recently as I was listening to the radio and “Soul Man” from The Blues Brothers came on. It occurred to me that I’ve heard this version more often than I have the original from Sam & Dave and I started thinking about The Blues Brothers movie in general. The story involves two white guys from the south side of Chicago who, essentially, set out to save the blues. Yeah, they want to preserve the orphanage where they grew up, but that’s not because of the nuns who ran the place but the relationship with Curtis (Cab Calloway), who introduced them to the blues greats. Along the way they interact with characters played by some of those icons, including Ray Charles and Aretha Franklin. So black people are relegated to supporting roles in the story of a musical genre that they created and mastered, while we’re asked to root for the white guys who perform watered-down, overly-showy versions of soul classics.
It’s a mystery to me why this movie, which I still love and hold up as a classic in many respects, hasn’t come under more fire in the last few years. It’s a pretty blatant example of cultural appropriation, which as a recent NPR op-ed points out is never truly alright, regardless of intent. That’s going to be disappointing to many people, especially the millions of white guys who randomly drop Kanye lyrics into their Facebook posts or white girls who post “YAASSS QUEEN” along with an inspirational quote photo of Beyonce.
Were the movie to come out today – or even if it were to get some sort of substantial theatrical re-release (it will turn 40 in three years) – it would rightly get slammed for its depiction of the white savior who adopts black culture as their own and decide they are the best one to defend it. The way black people are portrayed as secondary participants in their own culture is…not great.
The Blues Brothers isn’t the only example of this by any means. But it’s a stark example of how the problem many people had with La La Land is by no stretch of the imagination new. There’s a place for white people to signal their enjoyment and appreciation for art forms that have traditionally been associated with other ethnic or racial groups and even champion them, bringing the attention of a larger audience to them. There’s a line, though, where that championing and appreciation crosses over into ownership and *that’s* where we, as white people, get into trouble. That’s the line The Blues Brothers crosses a bit too often.
This is not me knocking down the movie entirely. As I said, it’s absolutely a comedy classic and one of my favorite movies of all time. And I’m not taking the position of many who read Huck Finn or other novels and want to flush them down the memory hole because the society portrayed in them is no longer acceptable in polite society. I believe we need to view these cultural artifacts as what they are, snapshots of where we were at the time and reminders to not return to those mores and attitudes. The movie has value and we can enjoy it while not endorsing its attitudes and approach. But we *do* need to be aware of what it’s saying and view it with open eyes. Cultures change and art from the past needs to be reevaluated, not forgotten.
As Marvel Studios makes all sorts of hay about this week’s big release of Avengers: Infinity War, one of the common themes of the campaign has been that this is the culmination of a decade’s worth of storytelling. The studio and its producers and creative guides have told anyone standing still long enough that this is a remarkable achievement, unparalleled in cinematic history.
They’re right, of course. It’s unprecedented for a studio to put out 19 interconnected films, each building on the last and building toward what’s to come. And while these films have certainly been in production for a decade or more, it’s also worth noting that the last 10 years have not seen an uninterrupted string of Marvel Cinematic Universe releases.
As hard as it is to believe now, when each year brings at least two if not three MCU movies, 2009 saw none. That’s right, none. After 2008 saw Iron Man kick things off and The Incredible Hulk start to explore the interconnectedness of the universe, things went dark until Iron Man 2 in 2010. That gap speaks to how Marvel Studios doesn’t seem to have been as sure as they make themselves out to be now about how successful this venture was going to be.
Elliott Gould turns 79 today, providing as good a reason as any to revisit some of my favorite screen roles of his.
Gould has had an interesting career. A frequent collaborator with director Robert Altman, Gould was often cast as the comedic, slightly schlubby everyman. As the years changed so did the prestige of his roles. While he’s consistently worked, it’s hard to match the avant garde heights of his 1970s, particularly those Altman films.
Here, then, in no particular order are four of my favorite Gould performances:
I’d been watching reruns of “M*A*S*H*,” the TV show, for almost a decade before I ever saw Altman’s original movie, which cast Gould in the role of Trapper John McIntyre. So I was unprepared for his much darker, more reserved take on the character, which contrasted with Wayne Rogers on the show. But it’s a deeper character, one who’s more obviously using gallows humor and the occasional moment of relief to survive the horrors he’s faced with daily. Gould glides through the role, though, not missing a beat of the dialogue or the interactions that go along with it. His is a tragic, funny Trapper John powered by an effortless-seeming performance.
The Long Goodbye
Another of his four films with Altman, this time Gould was cast as Phillip Marlowe, the same character played by Humphrey Bogart in The Big Sleep. Gould plays Marlowe as a world-weary Los Angeles detective who gets mixed up in a mystery he has no knowledge of. His slouched shoulders and fast talk keeps the story moving along at a pace that’s both lackadaisical, taking its time to get nowhere in particular and speedy, everyone getting there as fast as they can.
I always felt Gould was a bit too broad in his recurring role as Jack Geller, father of Monica and Ross, especially compared to his earlier, much more restrained work. But it kept him in front of the camera and hopefully helped younger audiences discover him and then explore his earlier roles, so it has to make the list.
Ocean’s Eleven etc
Reuben seems like a cast-off character in this and the following sequels, but it was his expertise and savvy were essential to the story and the dynamic of the group. Here Gould was back to his effortless, breezy performance style, which was in keeping with the story and style. He, along with Carl Reiner, brought a sense of old Hollywood to the production and went toe-to-toe with all the young bucks vying for dominance, commanding the screen away from Clooney, Pitt and the others by virtue simply of knowing how to play to the camera without breaking a sweat.