#ron howard

There’s a subtle dirty joke in this one too: in his tent having martinis with Nancy, Hawkeye complains about the black market Chinese olives: “You can’t conquer the world with a shoddy olive. Hitler found that out.” That this remarkable episode, which moves so effortlessly between comedy and tragedy, found time to include a jab on Hitler’s testicle is just one more reason it’s a masterpiece.

Let’s be real here: “Bullet” is the best episode of M*A*S*H season 1; the best episode of M*A*S*H, period; and almost certainly in the top 20 TV episodes of all time, of any series. I have my own favorites, but even I must admit this. Larry Gelbart et al set out to take a compelling story about horny war doctors and give it something extra, push the existential element to a bigger, universal place. With “Bullet,” they achieved what they were going for. It’s the yardstick against which all other MASH shows can be measured, and should be.

Hawkeye’s heart breaks when he’s unable to save the life of his childhood friend Tommy Gillis. Tommy has enlisted in a regiment so he can write a book, with the working title You Never Hear the Bullet, and pops by the Swamp for a rowdy, joyful visit. He returns mortally wounded—telling Hawk, with his last breath on the operating table, that he heard the bullet after all. His death, and Hawk’s grief, give rise to Henry Blake’s famous speech of comfort, repeated by fans frequently. “Rule number one is young men die. And rule number two is, doctors can’t change rule number one.”

Subject matter with this kind of weight might seem out of place in a comedy, and it was indeed an extremely daring thing to try. MASH swung for the fences, with miraculous success. Part of why it succeeded, though, is that amid its wrenching drama the show is funny. Frank throws his back out while trying to sail into Margaret, and decides he deserves a Purple Heart for it. Incredibly, he gets one—which Hawkeye steals to give to Walter Peters, a boy who lied about his age to become a Marine (in order to impress a girl, who will flip when she sees the medal). Ron Howard is impeccable and the interplay between Peters and Hawkeye, while still serious, is lighter, providing a balance with the bleaker half of the story.

Finally, we will never forget the way Tommy planted one on Henry at their first meeting, shown again as a freeze-frame in the closing credits.

Love, without inferior olives, really does conquer all.

Ron Howard and Don Knotts unwind with some baseball.

The Grinch (movie review)

Dr. Seuss was a one-of-a-kind original, and a true genius to boot.  The poet laureate of a generation, his mastery of the language enabled him to construct a whimsical fantasy world that even the youngest child could relate to, and in there lied the good Doctor’s brilliance.  His legacy is a brilliant art form all his own, the linguistically simple yet thematically complex children’s book.

Ron Howard (Splash, Apollo 13) may be a great director, but he’s no Seuss.  While “The Grinch” adheres tightly to the original text (extended segments are included verbatim, both in voiceover and dialogue), the final product feels kind of slight and simpy – the magic slowly dissipates over the movie’s 100-plus minutes, until we’re left with the sort of simplistic morality play that Seuss himself so perfectly avoided in his work.

Maybe simplistic isn’t the word.  Perhaps confused is more accurate.  The familiar tale, in which sage innocent Cindy Lou Who saves Christmas for the citizens of Whoville by making nice with the dastardly Grinch, is full of the stuff that makes for good reading, but its complexities get muddled in the screen production.

The movie indicts the citizens of Whoville for making the Grinch what he is (and rightly so).  On the other hand, it also insists that anyone who denounces the capitalistic greedfest of modern Christmas is acting downright Grinchy for spoiling the fun.   Ultimately, the Whos themselves are torn as to whether Christmas is about sharing gifts or simply sharing joy.  (Woe be to those who think Christmas has something to do with a Messiah baby, because this sure ain’t the movie for you).  

Out of this confused mess we get a Grinch who insists Christmas isn’t about shiny gifts despite the Whos’ objections and subsequently steals their presents to try and ruin Christmas for them. Yet the Grinch later undergoes a seeming epiphany when he discovers that…well, that Christmas isn’t really about the presents to begin with?  Was someone not paying attention before?

Don’t fault the actors for this one – all of the talent is absolutely top notch, starting with leading man Jim Carrey (Ace Ventura, Man on the Moon).  Carrey plays the Grinch with both sweetness and swagger, in a role most akin to that in his underrated classic “The Mask.” He nails both the Grinch’s outrageous, cartoonish exterior and his sad, needy soul, almost completely losing himself in the role (save for a few explosions of classic Carrey humor).

But for all of Carrey’s brilliance (and yes there’s quite a bit here), the true scene stealer is eight-year-old Taylor Momsen, playing Cindy Lou Who with the perfect innocence and unconditional love that only a child can bring.  Momsen gets everything just right; she’s the wide-eyed naif and loving inner child that even us grown-up kids can connect to.  Forgiving the Grinch at every turn, trusting him wholeheartedly regardless of his actions, Cindy Lou is the one Who who sees the Grinch for what he is on the inside, and Momsen draws it out with a true artistic beauty.

Also artistically beautiful are the costumes and sets, which seem to truly embody Seuss’ vision down to the most minute details like the curling tops of the mountains and clouds.  The toothy, high-nosed Who’s come off as a group of natural holly-jollies, and Carrey’s Grinch getup is utterly transformative.  The twisted décor lends to a wonderfully surreal world – think Salvadore Dali, but full of love.

“The Grinch” is far from the perfect movie, but then again the Seuss legacy is an incredibly high bar to live up to.  Perhaps the biggest flaw was unavoidable – there’s really no way to turn a 200 word book into a two hour movie without some serious retooling to the plot, and while the additions are welcome the execution often falls short.  It’s unfortunate, but it really drags the rest of the movie down.  Watching “The Grinch” is like watching an ice skating routine where the skater falls – most of the performance is great, but you just can’t come out of it feeling too good about the whole thing.  

originally written 11/18/00