John Lithgow

  • The Tomorrow Man (2019)

    The Tomorrow Man (2019)

    (On Cable TV, June 2021) There’s something half-clever in the conceit at the heart of The Tomorrow Man if you see it as a romantic comedy of sorts — the opposition between a doomsday prepper and a borderline hoarder. It works even better considering that John Lithgow (a master of implicit comedy, helped by a refusal to go manic) and Blythe Danner (as attractive now as ever) headline the film and can easily earn sympathy even when playing flawed characters. The prepper mindset carries a certain topicality, but it’s clear that, as the film digs into the tortured psyche of its characters, it has more to do with a certain kind of paranoia than a current-events commentary. I have to admit that I’ve got a certain innate sympathy for Lithgow’s character here — I’m maybe twenty-five years, one mental breakdown and one tumble down the conspiracy cliff away from him. As an elderly romance (both actors are in their mid-70s), The Tomorrow Man is cute and rather straightforward once a few initial mysteries are resolved. It does have its clunky moments, some at the beginning (it’s not clear why she doesn’t view him as an alarming stalker) and many more at the end (with some idiot plotting, unearned changes of opinion and unsatisfying developments). But writer/director Noble Jones is going for something a bit difficult to full define, perhaps because the script so often slips and falls. The ending sequence, which throws the film in a somewhat different genre simply for the sake of a good ironic joke, is a bit like that: Sure, it’s a surprise, but does it fit? Does it finalize the character’s journey, or does it negate it? As I’ve said: half-clever. Halfway there, but not there. Maybe tomorrow.

  • The Tuskegee Airmen (1995)

    The Tuskegee Airmen (1995)

    (On Cable TV, February 2021) It’s interesting to go spelunking into movie archives and unearth films that should be better known. At times, others do it for you—which explains why The Tuskegee Airmen gets a TCM airing in the middle of Black History Month as a reminder not only of the WW2 all-black fighter squadron, but also of the film’s existence—I could have named George Lucas’ 2013 film Red Tails as a Tuskegee film, but this first one dates from 1995 and seems to have slipped through the cracks of movie memory. To be fair, these are a few practical reasons for this — produced by HBO at a pre-digital time when TV movie budgets were synonymous with low production values and cut corners, The Tuskegee Airmen does amazing things with meager means (most notably by reusing historical footage and snippets from other WW2 movies, or cutting away when there’s a crash) and never got the kind of wide-scale theatrical or home video release that would have enshrined it as a reference. But that obscurity means an opportunity for rediscovery, especially given how it features Laurence Fishburne, then-recent Oscar-winner Cuba Gooding Jr. and John Lithgow in a supporting role as a senator. The script itself is decent without being overly remarkable, taking us through training and deployment to the European front, constantly reminding us of the opposition and outright racism that the airmen experienced throughout the war. The historical details are reportedly more faithful than you’d expect from a Hollywood production, which does help a film that sets out to remind us of a remarkable historical fact. The Tuskegee Airmen is not an ideal film, but neither was Red Tails, so the definitive Tuskegee film remains to be put together. In the meantime, have yourself a double-bill if you can find the film — and you’ll find that Cuba Gooding Jr. stars in both!

  • Rich Kids (1979)

    Rich Kids (1979)

    (On Cable TV, November 2020) I wasn’t looking forward to watching Rich Kids—tales of divorce as seen from the eyes of children (well, young teenagers) are almost too sad to contemplate, and I wasn’t sure I was up for it. But the film turns out to be easier to take than I expected—funnier, more optimistic, not quite as centred on the kid characters (although it’s a gradual process) and somewhat wittier than the usual drama on the topic. While the “rich kids” of the title are played by debut actors Trini Alvarado (who went on to have a significant career) and one-time actor Jeremy Levy, the parents of the female lead are played with Kathryn Walker and John Lithgow. The territory here is familiar from many other films—rich intellectual New Yorkers splitting up and kids making sense of it. But compared to the dreariness of (say) The Squid and the Whale, Rich Kids is far more entertaining to watch: The kids are admittedly written as precocious sages (as per the “here’s how your parents are going to announce their divorce to you… pick a restaurant you don’t like” scene), but their wisdom continually decreases throughout the film until the parents race to their rescue later on. Plenty of amusing secondary subplots and details enliven things, especially when it comes to how the parents are facing their divorce—the film opens with an elaborate charade by the protagonist’s father that doesn’t even fool the intended audience, and eventually paints a nightmarish portrait of another man in the throes of a stereotypical midlife crisis. It all amounts to a moderately good comic drama that exceeds expectations: much easier to watch than I expected, and not without its share of darker comedy.

  • The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension (1984)

    The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension (1984)

    (Youtube Streaming, September 2020) This may count as my second viewing of The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension, except that my first viewing, decades ago, left me with disconnected, confused memories. Not that this second viewing is any different because this film really feels as if it’s a mashup of about six different movies thrown in a blender, with the protagonist somehow inheriting the characteristics of all six leads. Buckaroo Banzai, after all, is a physicist, neurosurgeon, test pilot, and rock star whose various specialties (and equally diverse collaborators) are ideally suited to detecting and countering an alien invasion of Earth. Filled with non sequiturs, outrageous contrivances, deadpan humour and bizarre combinations of tossed-off awesomeness, The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension is a cult classic in the purest sense: It’s going to be incomprehensible to most, and beloved by a few. I’m firmly but not obsessively in the second camp—this is brilliant, off-beat stuff, the likes of which only the 1980s were capable of producing. Peter Welles is unflappable in the lead role, while Jeff Goldblum is hilarious as a supporting player, and John Lithgow chews all the scenery he can find in what feels like an audition for 3rd Rock From the Sun. Even its dearest fans will tell you that The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension has the flaws of its qualities: that it’s ridiculously undisciplined and that at least another script rewrite to bring it all into focus would have produced wonders. But when it works (or rather, if it works), then it really works. The biggest surprise, frankly, is why there hasn’t been a remake since then—this strikes me as the ideal fixer-upper; the best Doc Savage film ever made under another name. Even thirty-five years later, we still stare at it in awe.

  • The Manhattan Project (1986)

    The Manhattan Project (1986)

    (Second Viewing, On TV, August 2020) If I’ve got my dates right, I first watched The Manhattan Project almost exactly thirty years ago, a few days before starting eleventh grade. I remember that because I met one of my favourite high school teachers a few days later, and he did look rather a lot like John Lithgow in the movie. Thinking back, it does feel as if The Manhattan Project was a suspiciously appropriate film for my teenage self: after all, it’s about this very arrogant, smart yet somewhat dumb kid who decides to steal some plutonium from a nearby secret lab and uses it to create a nuclear bomb with household equipment just to prove that he could. Now, I never stole plutonium nor tried building a nuclear bomb (I swear!), but there’s something about the protagonist’s flaws that reminds me of my own worst teenage traits… some of them persisting to this day. Three decades later, though, The Manhattan Project now strikes me as a teenage power techno-fantasy, with hazily sketched motives in the service of the set-pieces planned for late in the movie – wouldn’t it be cool if a teenager actually built a nuclear weapon and had to disarm it? It does work as a film, although it’s clearly aimed at a teenage audience. There’s a kinship here with Wargames from three years earlier. Lithgow is quite likable as the kind of eccentric academic ready to step in a surrogate father – John Mahoney also shows up toward the end of the film as a high-ranking military officer, and a young Cynthia Nixon has an ingrate role as a new girlfriend who seemingly doesn’t have any more common sense than our young protagonist. While my perspective on The Manhattan Project may be more detached than as a teenager, I still had quite a good time watching it – despite some less-than-convincing plotting, it moves fast, benefits from Lithgow in maximally sympathetic mode, and it builds up to a very nice climax. Even in contemporary terms of films aimed at teenage audiences, it’s a cut above the norm.

  • Harry and the Hendersons (1987)

    Harry and the Hendersons (1987)

    (On TV, July 2019) I expected quite a bit less from Harry and the Hendersons. There are only so many ways that a family film about vacationers picking up a Sasquatch can go, and I thought I had a handle on the film as a kid’s movie before it even started. But as it turns out, Harry and the Hendersons goes a bit wider, to include quite a bit of dramatic material for the father character, as well as a dogged antagonist with a dramatic arc of his own. I’m not saying that it’s a particularly good movie—but it is more entertaining and interesting than expected. Very good makeup effects still work today, but it’s the script that works best despite using well-worn tropes unapologetically: it’s best when it goes beyond those tropes. John Lithgow turns in a decent performance as the patriarch of the family, with some added visual interest when you see the Sasquatch character towering above an already-imposing Lithgow. Not particularly sophisticated but well executed, Harry and the Hendersons proves to be a more decent than expected product of the 1980s.

  • 2010: The Year We Make Contact (1984)

    2010: The Year We Make Contact (1984)

    (On Cable TV, June 2019) The most common criticisms of 2010: The Year We Make Contact usually compare it to its illustrious predecessor and find it wanting. This, of course, is damning a film with excessive expectations: While 2010 is no transcendental experience like 2001: A Space Odyssey was, it’s a terrific science-fiction adventure with one heck of a send-off. It has the joy of the kind of nuts-and-bolts hard Science Fiction that I used to read by the truckload a decade or two ago—starting with the Arthur C. Clarke novel from which the film is adapted. Even the mid-1980s visual sheen to the film, grimy and realistic in the tradition of somewhat realistic Science Fiction, is a welcome sight. The plot takes a while to get going and usually operates at half-speed, but it does blend a delicious mixture of mystery, suspense, Cold War stakes and mind-blowing concepts. I particularly enjoyed the suspenseful sequence midway through in which two astronauts board the deserted Odyssey from the first film, their breathing setting the pacing of the action. The special effects are still good, even incorporating early photorealistic CGI in portraying the transforming Jupiter. The lead cast is star-studded, from Roy Scheider as the protagonist scientist, Bob Balaban as an AI expert of dubious loyalties, John Lithgow as an engineer pressed into service as a space traveller, and the timelessly beautiful Helen Mirren as a Soviet commanding officer. Writer-director Peter Hyams is near the top of his filmography here, keeping action going at a slow burn. The film’s science is not bad at a few gravity-related exceptions, but then again those effects were nearly impossible to do convincingly in a pre-CGI era. All in all, I really enjoyed 2010—it’s not 2001, but then again only one movie is 2001. This is an entirely acceptable follow-up, and a solid space adventure in its own right. There are even no less than two Arthur C. Clarke cameos!

  • The Life and Death of Peter Sellers (2004)

    The Life and Death of Peter Sellers (2004)

    (In French, On Cable TV, May 2019) Few biographies have as much naked contempt for their subject matter as this unexpectedly fascinating biography of famed comedian Peter Sellers. After all, The Life and Death of Peter Sellers exposes Sellers as an unstable, gluttonous, credulous, and self-hollowed figure, cruel to children and lovers, unable to depend on a solid inner core and all-too-willing to escape through his characters. I suspect that my admiration for this film has as much to do with its willingness to break down the structure of typical biographies than my growing knowledge of Sellers’s work (It’s a lot of fun to see the film recreate and nod at movies of the period, even some Sellers-adjacent ones in the Kubrick repertoire—the 2001: A Space Odyssey reference is blatant, but there’s a not-so-subtle one to The Shining as well). Structurally daring, The Life and Death of Peter Sellers reinforces its thesis about Sellers taking on roles as a substitute for his inner life by having Sellers occasionally portray people around him, delivering monologues that either reflects these people’s opinions of Sellers, or Seller’s best guess at what they thought of him—it’s not rare for the film to step in and out of sound stages, further breaking the thin line between fiction and moviemaking. The all-star cast helps a lot in enjoying the result: Geoffrey Rush is surprisingly good as Sellers, the resemblance between the two getting better and better as the film goes on. Other notable actors popping into the frame include Emily Watson and Charlie Theron as two of his four wives, John Lithgow as Blake Edwards and no less than Stanley Tucci as Stanley Kubrick. The tone and look of the film shift regularly to illustrate Sellers’s state of mind, his circumstances or simply the movies he played in—as an expressionist take, The Life and Death of Peter Sellers is frequently surprising, delightful and rewarding the more you know about Sellers. It did cement my unease with Sellers’s work (you’d be surprised at how many Sellers movies I don’t particularly like—click on the Peter Sellers tag to know more) but it informed my half-grasped notions about his life. Now I’ll have to read a biography to know more. [June 2019: And I did! As it turns out, the real story is even stranger, even worse for Sellers and just as disdainful for its biographer.]

  • Raising Cain (1992)

    Raising Cain (1992)

    (In French, On Cable TV, March 2019) If, for the sake of argument, we consider that Brian de Palma’s best body of work roughly dates from 1976 (Carrie) to 1996 (Mission: Impossible), then Raising Cain is perhaps the last pure-crazy de Palma thriller, the last to bear his imprint absent commercial imperatives or budget limitations. It’s completely ludicrous like few of his other films, meaning that it flirts with meaninglessness but remains perversely entertaining. The first few minutes set the deliberately confusing tone, what with split personalities and dream sequences creating a constant sense of reality anxiety. John Lithgow is suitably unhinged in the lead role, playing multiple parts that are not always in his own mind. Much of Raising Cain stretches believability, with some sequences only making sense when shot in their close frame—a wider composition would make the entire thing look silly. People being dead but not really, fake-outs and dreams-within-dreams sequences ensure that the film, for all of its twists and turns, isn’t really meant to be taken seriously, and that includes the end—it’s a good thing that the film doesn’t even make it to 90 minutes, because it does feel like a big ball of nonsense by the end. In some ways, Raising Cain is perhaps the last and most depalamaesque of de Palma’s trillers… bless his twisted shrivelled heart.

  • The World According to Garp (1982)

    The World According to Garp (1982)

    (On Cable TV, March 2019) I recall reading The World According to Garp in high school and being bemused at the novel’s obvious artificiality, going from one attempt to shock to another. Even today, it would probably be seen as a checkmark exercise in hitting as many hot-button issues as possible, from violent feminism to adultery to transgender characters to sexual assault to many other issues. The film adaptation, for all its faults (most of them self-inflicted) is relatively faithful to the book, although the actors do an incredible job in humanizing what, on paper, often feels like an exercise in authorial fiat. Should we give a bullhorn to John Updike? Many smarter people than me haven’t come to a conclusion. So it is, though, that the film adaptation is a blend of extreme characters, out-there hijinks (many of them sex-related), a writer obsession about being a writer, and so on. A young Robin Williams is in fine form with a character that’s not entirely aligned with his later screen persona. Glenn Close is good as his mother, but John Lithgow is even better as a transsexual friend—and the film, fortunately enough, has aged far better than expected in this regard, largely because it treats its character with respect and affection, making up for an otherwise lack of sophistication. I’ll admit that The World According to Garp remains interesting on a basic what-the-heck-is-going-to-happen-next level, but there is an extreme contrivance to much of the plotting that make it hard to take seriously upon reflection. It was a weird book and it remains a weird film, so at least it has that going for it.

  • Daddy’s Home 2 (2017)

    Daddy’s Home 2 (2017)

    (Netflix Streaming, August 2018) Once you’re settled Daddy’s Home‘s daddy-versus-step-daddy conflicts in the first film (with Mark Wahlberg battling it out with Will Ferrell), what’s left to do? Bring in their fathers, of course. Following a surprisingly similar course to Bad Moms 2, this sequel brings in veteran comic actors to act as the fathers to the first film’s protagonists, while moving the story to the Christmas season to heighten the stakes. Of course, the fathers are even more extreme version of their sons, meaning that there’s a whole new level of embarrassment to be achieved. As far as family comedies go, Daddy’s Home 2 is pretty much the living embodiment of the usual formula. The situations are generic, the characters are superficial and while there is some fun to it all, it’s very familiar material throughout the entire film. While Mel Gibson and John Lithgow do get their moments, John Cena once again ends up stealing every scene he’s in. Otherwise, there isn’t much more to say about it—if you’ve seen and enjoyed the first film, then this is the same with added complications.

  • Memphis Belle (1990)

    Memphis Belle (1990)

    (On TV, May 2018) I saw bits and pieces of Memphis Belle back in high school, but sitting through from beginning to end doesn’t really change my opinion of the film: This is as basic a movie as it’s possible to make about WW2 bomber crews. It’s willfully schematic, reusing plenty of familiar wartime movie tropes in order to comfort its audience. It’s the story of a single bombing mission, supercharged with dramatic intensity (if they come back from their fiftieth mission, they can go home!) and every single incident of interest that may have happened at any point in WW2. It does work in that while Memphis Belle is familiar, it’s not really boring: there’s enough going on to keep watching the film without effort, and the familiarity ensures that the film will still make perfect sense once you come back from a kitchen snack visit. Don’t try to go read up on the film’s historical accuracy—it’s safe to say that most of what’s on the screen happened, but certainly not all at once. There is some additional interest in the cast, given that many of the young men in the Memphis Belle crew have gone on to other things: Most notably Billy Zane, Matthew Modine, Eric Stoltz, Sean Astin and Harry Connick Jr., with special mention of David Strathairn and John Lithgow in ground support roles. Much of the film was shot practically, making the rather jarring special effects stand out more—nowadays, much of the film would be a pure CGI spectacle, although whether this would be an improvement would depend on the director—see Red Tails for an example of going too far. The nice thing about Memphis Belle is that you get almost exactly what it says on the plot summary. Nothing transcendent, but nothing terrible either.

  • Blow Out (1981)

    Blow Out (1981)

    (On Cable TV, March 2018) I hadn’t seen Blow Out in at least thirty years, so it’s funny to see what sticks and what doesn’t—my childhood memories of seeing the film (in French, on broadcast TV “prestige” Saturday evening showing) included the ending shot and the “animated film” sequence but little else. I think I learned of the Chappaquiddick political scandal after watching the film, which is really weird in retrospect. Watching the film as a seasoned thriller fan, I was a bit more impressed by director Brian de Palma’s ability to create suspense and memorable sequences through directorial audacity. John Travolta is surprisingly good (and young!) as a sound-effect technician who ends up embroiled in a political assassination conspiracy—with no less than an even younger-looking John Lithgow as an effectively creepy antagonist. Blow Out moves quickly and doesn’t have too many dull moments. While some character motivations are suspect (as in; the protagonist seeing the heroine again for no other reason that she’s attractive) and the coincidences in the plot defy credibility, but de Palma knows what he’s doing (just watch that opening shot) and the look at exploitation filmmaking at the eve of the eighties is simply fascinating—the period feel of the era’s technology, complete with tapes and physical cutting, is now one of the film’s biggest strengths. The ending is a downer, but it’s almost entirely justifiable through the film’s atmosphere and thematic resonance. Blow Out remains a remarkable early-eighties suspense movie that clearly owes much to the conspiracy thrillers of the seventies.

  • Footloose (1984)

    Footloose (1984)

    (Netflix Streaming, April 2017) While I can recognize that Footloose isn’t a great movie, it’s easy to be swept along by its charm, clearly-defined stakes and infectious energy. I happen to like the song itself a lot, and the clever opening sequence is a lot of fun to watch. Then it’s off to rural America, when a stranger, our protagonist, comes to town to bring some wholesome urban values in the Midwestern wasteland. As a treatise on blue-versus-red America, Footloose has a lot to say and did so decades before the US electoral map ossified to the point that brought you president 45. But there I go tainting Footloose’s innocent fun with not-so-fun stuff. It’s far better to focus on Kevin Bacon’s career-making performance, the ludicrous chicken-tractor sequence, or John Lithgow’s turn as a persuadable preacher. Footloose, alas, does run out of steam a bit too quickly: the ending seems to peter out after resolving itself ten minutes earlier, not quite managing to deliver a decent finale. Still, it’s a fun movie with a bit of depth to offer regarding the rural-vs-urban divide. The music is also quite a bit better than that other early-eighties musical Flashdance.

  • This is 40 (2012)

    This is 40 (2012)

    (Video on-demand, March 2013) Aimless character-driven comedy about the humanity of relationship makes for a nice change of pace from a diet of highly-plotted action-driven special-effects extravaganza, and you couldn’t ask for more amiable actors than Paul Rudd and Leslie Mann as lead protagonists.  This is 40 aims to provide a warts-and-all look at the dynamics of an established marriage, and it doesn’t take a lot to see echoes of universal experience in the sometimes-horrid thoughts expressed here.  Still, it’s about sticking together no matter how difficult circumstances can be, and it helps that the dialogue is both cutting and revealing.  There is a lot of depth to the ensemble cast, with particularly challenging roles for Albert Brooks and John Lithgow as polar-opposite grand-dads.  Everyone is playing their part in a very relaxed fashion, which may explain how and why such a seemingly plot-less film can sustain attention for so long.  Where the film falters is in its coda, which wraps up too quickly without giving decent send-offs to the myriad subplots introduced throughout the picture.  Still, this is a film about moments, not dramatic arcs: Writer/Director Judd Apatow’s been mining the less-romantic aspects of romance throughout this career, and This is 40 fits squarely in this niche.