Tootsie and Sinatra, some thoughts on some movies

Depressingly, while I was looking for a good photo of Tootsie I found a blog entry by some other guy, who seems to be a Clevelander, who summed up what I wanted to say even better than I ever could, but I will champion on anyway. Tootsie is NOT the God Of All Comedies. I am not sure what film that title would go to, though I have always remembered the first time I saw Dumb and Dumber, with Jon Park. We got into the end of the early showing and without having any idea of the plot watched the last half hour. We were laughing so hard that our sides ached before we ever even saw the last of the credits. By the time the movie started over we had calmed adequately to be able to breathe. But from the first moment seeing Jim Carrey's absurd haircut again we were rolling. I think I laughed more in that movie than at anything in my whole life. But I WAS 16, so I probably had hormonal issues going on. Or perhaps what I thought was laughter was actually some sort of internal zit popping.

My point, I promise there was one in there, is that Tootsie is ok. It's not great. Bill Murray is far and away the best thing about the movie. Without question, his last line, sitting in an easy chair and reading Dashiell Hammett, is the best line in the movie. If the film had ended right there, I'd have been happy.

The music is embarrassing. Jessica Lange... let's talk about Jessica Lange. She got an Oscar for this? Really? And why is she considered better looking than Terri Garr? Terri Garr is WAY more attractive than Jessica Lange, and more fun, seemingly. I mean, at least she gives it up, and on virtually no effort. For Hoffman's character, I mean, this guy is BEGGING women to talk to him and he had Terri Garr sitting right there? What's his problem? (Admittedly she is shown to be a little cuckoo, but isn't that what women in romantic comedies are supposed to be?)

The supposedly feminist slant was ludicrous. The only way I could see it was that if a woman was more like a man, or indeed a man, then she would be more like what women want to be. It is like when Hooper breaks down the racism of Return of the Jedi in Chasing Amy. I wish I wasn't at work so I could put up a YouTube of that scene. The crux of his argument is that Darth Vader indicates the filmmaker's vision of African Americans really desiring to be white men. It seems that this goes double for Tootsie.

But man, Bill Murray slumming is still better than anyone else doing anything, ever.

Then we come to The Son Of A Bitch, Frank Sinatra. Even before I really understood who Frank Sinatra was I knew that my Aunt Mae hated him. I remember before going to Florida for the first time, when Grandpa Pitrone told my parents all about Aunt Mae's habits. I think that I was eating Kix at the time. Anyways, he was saying the she never swears, something like: "She says Jimminy Christmas and things like that, but she does say SOB whenever Frank Sinatra is mentioned." I was little, younger than 10, so this mostly flew over my head, except that I liked the phrase Jimminy Christmas. It then became this little joke between Tom and her. Or at least Tom used it to make fun of her, which was always funny. An Aunt Mae a little irritated was an Aunt Mae happy, so that worked well.

In later years I have always wondered, given Aunt Mae's life and Frank Sinatra's reputation, whether or not they had had a fling at some point, or if her distaste was more of a second-hand thing. I like the idea of Aunt Mae being on Frank's arm and some ding-a-ling function, but it is probably just a figment of my over-active imagination.

Again, sort of a rambling method to get to what I wanted to say, which is this: Frank Sinatra really kind of seems like a Son Of A Bitch in this movie. I could kind of believe that Aunt Mae just saw this in the theatre and decided he was scum from there.

I really like the movie, for the most part. It starts out really strong. The story of a cabaret singer in 1920s Chicago, defying the mob to do what he wants. Lots of renditions of All The Way. This seems to have everything you could want. Then, tragedy. He gets beaten up and, as one character puts it, "They slashed his vocal cords." (This seems unlikely to me. It's a pretty careful surgery to have random thugs perform. There is no evidence here, but I suspect they just slit his throat.) Then he disappears from the hospital and all of a sudden it's 1937. Time jumps around a bit in this movie, but it's worth it.

There are some really terrific little things here:

There are scars on Frank's face that no one mentions in the whole movie.
There are two women who love him, and he is just a jerk.
His marriage falls apart and it is indicated that it is all his fault, but watching the film I can't figure it out. It seems like his career-girl wife is to blame. Or at least, it seems so to me. Margaret says I always take the man's side. I argued my point pretty loudly, and I suppose too long. Finally she told me I was right and could we please watch the movie again.

However, the end is terrible. It has some thematic significance, but ultimately it just feels like the writers ran out of steam.

Oh, and the jokes are so bad that it reminds you that comedy was a bizarre wasteland for a long time. People sing the praises of Lenny Bruce, people including Bob Dylan, but come on, that stuff wasn't funny. Was it provocative? Possibly. Was it satirical? Probably. Was it funny? Hell no.

Sam Kinison is the same thing. And Andrew Dice Clay. What the heck are people laughing about there?

So maybe Tootsie really seemed like The God Of All Comedies when it came out.

Finally, I am making another, by now routine, impassioned plea for further Uncle Michael stuff. I am adding everything I get to the site, as I get it. If you have anything you'd like to see, or would like others to see, send it on over to my e-mail and I will post it. Thanks.

Thoughts?