Why Found-Again? Philosophically, because I was around this show a lot when I was younger, even if I never paid it much attention beyond “Why is that guy from Riptideon the TV again?” Practically, because I am starting to run out of DVDs to put on my Netflix queue—I tried adding Shogun first, but believe me, this is better. Or at least faster…which is better.
The Premise: Jake (Joe Penny) is a cop; he works with District Attorney J.L. McCabe, the titular Fatman (William Conrad). Jake has an awesome (if waaaaay too ’80s) apartment; McCabe has an office full of antique weapons—did someone say swords??—and an adorable bulldog named Max. Together they solve crimes…although how they do that is somewhat less than clear; like Columbo, Jake seems to intuitively know who the bad guys are.
Admittedly, I’m only partway through Volume 2 of the Season 1 DVDs (and I’d like to have a word with some manufacturers about these numbering systems, but not before I exact vengeance for the lack of a “Play All” option. Don’t get me started on the sadist who designed the Remington Steele DVD menu. But I digress.), but rewatching has proved interesting. I remembered this as a “cop show,” but I find my favorite parts of Jake and the Fatman inevitably involve McCabe cross-examining the heck out of hapless witnesses. Much more of this and I’m going to be driven to a McCoy-era Law & Order marathon. The guests stars are also pretty good, including Jeffrey “Re-Animator” Combs, and there are enough regulars on the show that we get a little insight into the main characters’ relationships with people in the office.
The Verdict: I feel like I’ve written up enough of these to offer a ranking, so here we go: I’d put it above Hart to Hart unless you’re looking for sheer whimsy, and it ranks around Simon & Simon without having a theme song that makes you want to rip your own ears off. Solid, but no Magnum, P.I.
Might go well with: Whatever it is, you should be hanging out with your pets when you eat it.
Next time: More polar adventuring with the Quest family.
Synopsis: When an experimental missile goes down in the Arctic, the Quests try to find it before enemy agents do. They fail in this and are captured, but manage to detonate the missile, keeping its secrets safe. They also see a lot of wildlife.
Tip 4: Plan, plan, plan.
No expedition is complete without putting a lot of thought into things like food, shelter, transport, and who or what might’ve knocked a secret weapon into the polar regions. Make lists! Draw diagrams! Check your ideas with friends!
Build small models even though you have perfectly good access to specs and a video feed, and leave them lying around your office!
Details count.
Next time: I’ve been too long away from old cop shows…until now.
Next time on TQfM!: If you thought polar bears were already in trouble, just you wait.
I suspect I’m one of the only people who saw 2002’s The Truth About Charlie, the remake ofCharade, before seeing the original 1963 movie. And I didn’t like it initially, perhaps comparing it in my head to what the old-movie buffs I knew insisted was perfection.
When I finally saw Charade, then, it was with a sense of wonder and relief: the movie, though fantastic, is not a classic in that parlor-furniture, mustn’t-be-touched sense that my friends and family insisted it was. In fact, my appreciation for both versions has only grown over time.
The storyline for the movies is more or less the same: After some time away to think it over, pretty Regina (Audrey Hepburn/Thandie Newton) is just about to divorce her husband Charles when he turns up dead. And not only dead, but crooked—Charles was carrying multiple passports under various aliases, and the life Regina thought she had is revealed to be a lie. An attractive man she met on her vacation (Cary Grant/Mark Wahlberg) seems to have followed her home, but why? And what’s his relationship to the sinister trio who begin to stalk her, looking for a fortune Charles stole long ago?
Things only get more complicated when she’s asked by a sneaky American to spy on the whole cat-and-mouse game.
That makes it sound grim, but the original movie is anything but; it’s suspenseful yet witty and fast-paced, with a solid romantic subplot and interesting relationships, all set against the gorgeous backdrop of Paris. The opening has dialogue worthy of The Thin Man, in my opinion:
So how do Charade and The Truth About Charlie stack up?
The Cast:
This category does have a clear winner: in The Truth About Charlie, Thandie Newton is suitably spunky as Regina, and Mark Wahlberg takes on a rough-edged version of the Cary Grant role, with Tim Robbins as the would-be spymaster (a role Walter Matthau played in the 1963 film). They do their best against the unbeatable originals, but it’s a necessarily losing battle.
Regina 2.0, walking in the shadow of the original movie.“You mean someone did this before?”
And while I applaud tTaC director Jonathan Demme for using a more diverse cast for the three thieves, it’s hard to compete with James Coburn and friends from the original film.
…even when they hurt Cary Grant.
Advantage: Charade
The Music:
Charade’s soundtrack is the work of Henry Mancini, a man famous for the Pink Panther theme but who had a widely varied career, including doing the music for Remington Steele. The man likely never hit a wrong note in his entire life.
Even so, I often think one of my problems with The Truth About Charlie was the plot’s failure to match the adventure quotient of its soundtrack, which is one of those albums I find essential for road trips. This is the first thing you hear as The Truth About Charlie’s credits start:
I love it! There are also tracks by Asian Dub Foundation, Gotan Project, and Charles Aznavour, among others. The techno vibe isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but to me? It sounds like intrigue.
Advantage: The Truth About Charlie
The Setting:
I doubt real Paris was ever the lily-white location of the first Charade film, where the most “foreign” thing the viewer sees is the German tourist Regina uses for cover while surveilling her new friend. The Paris of The Truth About Charlie is more varied: there’s even—gasp!—graffiti. I hate the word “gritty,” but when a movie’s plot features people ruthlessly chasing after stolen war loot, a little grit is probably a good thing.
Advantage: The Truth About Charlie, but only slightly; fantasy-fashion-shoot Paris from the original film is also pretty cool
The Verdict: Mixed. Charade and its remake share the same flaws, really: some parts are more goofy than they need to be, and some of the tonal shifts between terror and whimsy are more jarring than I suspect was intended. As a caper/spy film, I find The Truth About Charlie, and its version of Paris, slightly more believable. But when it comes to heart…much as I hate dinging The Truth About Charlie for not having Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn when it couldn’t, the two leads make Charade the timeless film it is. Put bluntly, I’d watch either on TV on a weekend, but only Charade would cause me to say “I love this movie!” aloud as I settled in for the duration.
At some point, every kid will beg their parents to let them see an R-rated movie. I was an only child, so I say without shame that my nagging skills—in this and every other regard—were highly advanced, and so Mom took me to see my first R film in the theater when I was 13.
A sort-of art film based on a play.
Why did I waste my +20 Tongue of Nagging on such a thing? In other words, Why Found-Again?–or indeed, found in the first place?
For obvious reasons.
Indeed, this movie represented for me some sort of zenith (nadir?) of Goldblum-fan dweebdom.
And for reasons that are obvious if you’ve seen American Dreamer.
I don’t think it’s actually possible to make Tom Conti not cute, but they certainly had a go at it.
The Premise: I think you have me stumped there. The romantic foibles of some incredibly neurotic people?
Bisexual Bruce (Goldblum) attempts to date homophobic basket case Prudence (Julie Hagerty) while still living with his boyfriend Bob (Christopher Guest). Both Bruce and Prudence are in therapy, with counselors (Tom Conti and Glenda Jackson) in adjacent offices who meet up for quickies during particularly boring sessions. Add in Bob’s excitable mother and a number of minor characters from a French restaurant, and you have a recipe for a nervous breakdown—on the audience’s part, also.
I had an “aha!” moment when I saw that Robert Altman directed Beyond Therapy. While it’s not a comment on the quality of the man’s body of work, this proves Altman’s movies have been Not Doing It For Me since I was a tween (the sole exception: Prêt-à-Porter), and that made me feel a bit better about my initial reaction.
However, it seems to have also shot my usual methods straight to hell. This movie is so scattered, it deserves a scattered writeup. Brace yourself for incoming bullet points!
I think this must mark the beginning of Goldblum’s European period, so I did learn something!
The set design in this movie is fantastic, from the paintings in the Tom Conti character’s office to Bruce and Bob’s apartment.
Christopher Guest with facial hair will always ever be Count Rugen to me, which makes his turn as Bob a bit…odd.
At the restaurant, Prudence says she writes for People magazine, just like Goldblum’s character in The Big Chill.
There’s what I am pretty sure is an Airplane! in-joke referencing Ethel Merman.
While it’s neat to see a movie from this far back with a bisexual protagonist, really, did it have to be like this??
There is a very cute rabbit hand-puppet.
The Verdict: This didn’t even make my worst-movies list back on my old site, because in spite of its flaws, Beyond Therapy was kind of forgettable in 1987, and I suspect it will be this time too. As I haven’t yet forgotten it, though, my advice is this: treat it as you would treat the Ark of the Covenant. This is a film whose one sound decision, other than set design, was “Let’s put a vest on Conti.” Unless you too are on a quest to see everything Goldblum ever made, avoid avoid avoid.
Might go well with: Leaving the room, watching a better movie in another room, and having a good, stiff drink.
Synopsis: A group of bad guys blows up ships while testing their new laser weapon. Being expert in all things sciency, Dr. Quest and family are asked to investigate: eventually they defeat the enemy using a big mirror.
Tip 3: Everyone makes mistakes…no, really!
It’s a tough world out there. One minute you’re out seeking the Lost Temple of the Bewildered Goldfish God and the next you find out the curse wasn’t even real. (Well, it was, but only for eleven seconds.) And so it is with the Quests, who quickly realize the Lizard Men are just laser-wielding scuba divers and deal with them accordingly…with science!
Take a good look while you can…there’s a mirror aimed at his laser beam. (And why did the people reporting frog-men not add “CYCLOPTIC” to that description? It seems important.)
But while all’s well that ends well, this adventure only goes to show the importance of bouncing back when you make mistakes—mistakes like, oh, I don’t know, overestimating the load-bearing capacities of a rope.
And by “bouncing back,” I mean “…after first falling down a hatch and knocking yourself out cold.”
Resilience, my dears.
Next time: I have the perfect Found-Again movie. I can tell because I hate the very idea of rewatching it. Also, as I said last time, I’ll be participating in the They Remade What?! Blogathon hosted by Phyllis Loves Classic Movies. Like Charade? Like The Truth About Charlie? Hate either and have really good reasons why? Come comment on my upcoming post!
Next time on The Quest For Monday!: The Quests head north. Pack your thermals!
Why Found-Again? As usual, darned if I know. I’ve read a lot of Barbara Michaels novels and I own my favorites, but this 1986 book is the only one that doesn’t get a yearly re-read, even though it’s set in the general area where I grew up and is in other ways relevant to my interests.
The Premise: Broadly, the premise of most Barbara Michaels books: a heroine finds herself in a creepy old house that is filled with danger from forces both spectral and human. The genre is gothic/romantic suspense, which can definitely stray too far into its own silly conventions: then again, which genre doesn’t from time to time?
In Be Buried in the Rain, our heroine Julie has a lot to be cynical about: the moment medical school isn’t keeping her busy, she’s asked to spend the summer taking care of her (evil) grandmother at a run-down farmhouse somewhere near Tidewater. Julie finally agrees, which brings her into contact with a former lover, a smarmy politician who happens to be her cousin, and an assortment of zealots, religious and New Age alike—all of whom are very interested when two skeletons turn up on the road. What secret from the past is hidden in those bones?
My hardcover. Not sure what that well-landscaped mansion is supposed to be, but I bet our main character would’ve had a much nicer time there.
Instead Julie takes matters into her own hands, reading to her grandmother by day—if you break it down into real time, this is probably a book about a woman reading Bleak House aloud—and looking into the mystery in her precious free time. This is a mystery story, but it is also a book about family and…well, how family can screw you up.
The Verdict: Only this year have I come to realize how much these books, which I first read as a young teenager, have influenced both the way I write and what my concept of “a novel for grownups” should resemble in general shape and tone. That said, I think in this case the similarities to my own experiences are working against it, making it less interesting than the Michaels books set in Georgetown or farther abroad.
(…And while I was writing this, I remembered that somewhere in my hometown, there may still be video of me doing a book talk for this in the eighth grade. Talk about horrors from the past…)
Might go well with: Country ham biscuits, Dickens, a nice nightgown.
Next time: The hiatus will come to an end and we’ll catch up with the Quest family. I will also be doing something fun here next weekend—by which I mean the weekend after the approaching one.
We’re going waaaaay back this time, to the music I heard as a very small child. My dad grew up on a farm and liked to listen to a lot of WCMS FM, our country station... and as a result, so did I.
Listen, at least. Like? Sometimes.
Every few years, I am distressed to discover I still remember the chorus to this one.
This next one was one of my favorites when I was three or so— pretty embarrassing given what I can’t even really call the subtext. It’s just…text:
By the time I was five, I was just barely starting to grasp that whole subtext thing, though.
I’ve been trying for years, but have never managed to reconcile Conway Twitty’s lyrics with…well, with his hair, for one thing.
And there’s no way to make a list like this and not end on Dolly Parton. Pretty sure that’s a law.
Inspired by watching Heaven’s Prisoners last week, a list of (other) books I stopped reading because they were getting too depressing, with the reasons:
The Repairman Jack series (F. Paul Wilson) <—- Apocalypse seemed nigh (may have occurred in later books I haven’t read).
Hellboy (Mignola et al) <—- Apocalypse definitely occurred.*
The Kay Scarpetta books (Patricia Cornwell) <—- Unrelenting human malice, from the killers and from not a few of the recurring characters.
Charles de Lint’s novels <—- Unrelenting human and supernatural malice; it’s a bad old world out there, and the presence of magic just means more of it can literally steal your soul before it harms or kills you.
The Amelia Peabody Mysteries (Elizabeth Peters) <—- WWI. ‘Nuff said.
The V.I. Warshawski books (Sara Paretsky) <—- Unrelenting human malice again, with a soupçon of hideous sexism on top.
The novels of Thomas Hardy <—-To be fair, I barely started these, because depressing is what Hardy is known for. Hardy’s books are all beautifully written—but my god, at least none of the V.I. Warshawsky novels has anybody being sold at the farmers’ market.
King Lear <—- I used to think Hamlet was a little depressing, and then this. I’m not even going to give it the same semi-endorsement as Hardy, because even the power of Shakespeare’s writing can’t mitigate how much I hated King Lear. I’ve read less nihilism in actual nihilist philosophy.
*I’ve noted before that I find it really hard to stay away from Hellboy, but at the moment I’m holding strong.
Next time: On Friday, I continue this mournful theme with another Musical Interlude.
This one’s iffy: while it’s true that I once sat down to watch Heaven’s Prisoners and remained in the room the whole time, I fell asleep and never followed up until last week. After all, it seemed incomprehensible that anything with Eric Roberts as the bad guy could be dull enough to incite sleep. It might not be good, but it shouldn’t be dull.
Good news, kind of!
The Premise: This is one of two film adaptations of James Lee Burke’s Dave Robicheaux books: regular readers will remember that these often have a similar structure to episodes of Highlander: The Series. Alec Baldwin stars as Robicheaux, an alcoholic ex-cop who tries and fails to shake his past by leaving New Orleans and opening a bait shop in the bayou. A plane crash lands him with both a foster child and a mystery, and the answer lies with his childhood friend, mobster wannabe Bubba Rocque (Roberts).
People forget Alec Baldwin could noir like a champ back in the 1990s. Then again, I also liked The Shadow.
The good news is that if you get past the first 40 minutes or so without pricking your finger on a magic spindle, Heaven’s Prisoners picks up considerably, with some nice action sequences and interesting secondary characters. (The other good news is the soundtrack, which is naturally blues-heavy.) The bad news is that it’s often a colossal downer of a film; if you’ve read the books, you know Robicheaux is what you might get if Thomas Hardy had a bowl of jambalaya, watched a few cop shows, and decided to write a mystery series, so this is not surprising. And then there’s Bubba Rocque. Did I mention Eric Roberts sports a distracting combination cornrows/French braid/man-bun for most of the film? You won’t be able to forget it.
The Verdict: Definitely better than I remembered (in that I got all the way through it), but still not quite the movie the books deserve.
Might go well with: Etouffée, beer, and the much sillier The Big Easy, since I’ve got to admit I’ve never conked out on that one.
Why Found-Again? For personal reasons too depressing to go into, I don’t watch this very often—which is, as you know if you’ve ever seen it, a total shame. 1999’s Thomas Crown Affair is a wonderful movie, and I don’t say that often enough.
The Premise: Bored gazillionaire businessman Thomas Crown (Pierce Brosnan) turns to art theft for a little excitement and gets more than he bargained for when the theft brings ruthless insurance investigator Catherine Banning (Rene Russo) into his life. It’s a cat-and-mouse game, if you’re the sort of person who thinks a cat and a mouse might hook up at a fancy-dress ball.
The Thomas Crown Affair—a quasi-remake of the 1960s heist film with Steve McQueen—is a mystery movie. It’s a heist movie. It’s a romance movie. It’s an art-museumgoer-geekery movie. It has an amazing soundtrack. It’s a worthy successor in wit and pace to The Thin Man, the movie that is my gold standard for non-supernatural films.* And more to the point, Crown is the other role Brosnan was born to play—after Remington Steele and that shooty guy with the short name.
This film is so. Much. Fun.
The Verdict: Sorry, I couldn’t hear you: I was too busy bouncing on my couch in joy as Nina Simone wailed on my television. Are you watching this yet? Why aren’t you watching this yet?
Watch this!
Might go well with: Champagne, the first season of Remington Steele, apples.
*I’m classifying sci-fi in the supernatural category for the purposes of this review, although there are lots of excellent arguments as to why I probably shouldn’t.
