In my opinion, we've reached a turning point in popular culture. We are living in a moment during which camp and irony has been so wrung out, so overplayed, that it's almost impossible to distinguish genuine, sincere content from its silly, out-for-laughs siblings. In what might be referred to as post-camp (by those, like myself, who really have no idea nor the credentials to make such a claim), certain content that is "so bad, it's good" is, in a way, re-emerging as the ultimate camp. Snakes On A Plane knew what it was doing. It didn't work. Napoleon Dynamite worked, but I never bought into it (and I still consider it a pop cultural travesty).
Something's Gotta Give? He-llooo, funny!
I have no recollection how I did it, but a couple of years ago, I managed to drag my friends (who began to distrust my cinematic intentions after their being forced to watch a copy of Nunsense: Live starring Rue Maclanahan) to a showing of Something's Gotta Give, the Nancy Meyers-penned, by-the-books romantic comedy starring Diane Keaton, Jack Nicholson, Amanda Peet, and [get out of there, immediately!] Frances McDormand.
Here's a little story about Jack and Diane:
Ladykiller Harry (Jack Nicholson) is at the top of his game as a cosmopolitan hip hop mogul (a sign that the film's Casting Director probably scored lowest on the Sentence Completion section of the SAT's) infamous for courting significantly younger women. We are introduced to Harry and Marin (Amanda Peet) amidst a weekend getaway to the Hamptons. In a disturbingly unerotic, nauseating foreplay scene, Peet hovers above Grandpa Jack's orange skin in a position that would make even Michael Jackson shudder. But before anything can happen (Meyers wouldn't do that to us, would she? WOULD SHE?), Ol' Jack has a heart attack, gasping on the floor for breath, forehead gleaming with "sweat" (or lighting, as them Hollywood folk tend to say). Thus, Marin, her mother (Keaton), and Aunt Zoe (Frances McDormand, in a mildly pathetic supporting role in which she wears a "Boys Lie" tee shirt, apparently because she teaches Women's Studies -- ha...ha??), whisk Harry to a hospital for proper treatment.
::Viagra joke here::
::Old people on cell phones jokes there::
Incase you didn't figure it out, Marin eventually dumps Harry, Harry falls for Erica, Erica falls for Harry, and then what happens? Well, get this: handsome Dr. Keanu Reeves, while treating Harry, gets all up in Diane Keaton's shit! ...Because she's intellectually stimulating! Nonetheless, it takes about 120 unnecessary minutes for Diane to figure out what she wants: a crotchety old cradle-robber who can't commit (to neither women nor his own health) or a handsome professional of the same age as her daughter who adores her work and can freeze, mid-air, in a full-length leather coat!
There are several points during Something's Gotta Give when the plot becomes so desperate, so shallow, so needling of the audience to get the joke, that its lameness makes it automatically campy. However, in the very same moments, we are supposed to believe (and, in a sense, relate to) instances that, while intended to be cute, come off as absurdly unfunny, if not a little disgusting.
Yes, the young-at-heart-but-total-old-fart thing going on with Nicholson's Harry is mildly amusing, especially if the thought of Nicholson standing in on a recording session with Nas tickles you as much as it does me (a scene I can only dream was left on the cutting room floor). However, the joke gets old quick, but not long before we are treated to plenty of precious screen time dedicated to gratuitous ass shots. His Harry, a distracted, fogey mess in a hospital gown, endures the cliche of the "cute old man," yet it doesn't [no, it can't] work when you know that the tethered, jaundice-y fingers of Lara Flynn Boyle have dug deep into that wonderland of manflab.
Diane Keaton, as well, gets her nudie on, when we are treated to a gratuitous full frontal shot of what she's 'got to give' when walked in upon by Harry. Admittedly, for her age, Keaton looks amazing. But let's stay grounded here: is a naked, jumpy Diane Keaton totally necessary? Like, again? Haven't we seen this before, just clothed? How I love Baby Boom so, but there's only so much one can take of the lady playing neurotic and loopy - especially with her cootch, like, there! Right there! Ka-POW! Maybe they were just trying to balance out the unequally excessive amount of titty action we get from from Nicholson. Who knows what Nancy Meyers was thinking?
Most importantly, Something's Gotta Give manages to pull off the enigmatic task of reminding us that although old people have trouble seeing, hearing, and functioning normally (don't miss the scene in which Erica takes Harry's blood pressure before engaging in sexual intercourse!), there is always room to laugh at it, though likely more than the director had intended. (In the aforementioned sex scene, Captain Jack gets ready to "put it in her" before asking, "What about birth control?" ...Dude, didn't you know? Ladies can't get pregnant after they turn 70!)
But my favorite part about Something's Gotta Give, the ultimate answer to the question of How To Make A Movie Blow But In A Kind Of Awesome Way is the implementation of ::drumroll:: ADULTS USING COMPUTERS!
How many times has your mother or father (or, God forbid, Grandma or Grandpa) sent you an Instant Message that read like a letter, concluded with "LOve,mom"? Did you ever try explaining to computer-savvy Nana that, when writing an e-mail, one may want to turn off the "Caps Lock" button?
In the best scene since Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks found love via the World Wide Web, Harry, or "Harry47," lies in bed in a silk night robe beginning a conversation with Erica on AOL (get this: she's in another room of the same house!) with "Hello. How R U doing?"
Niiiiice. Bringin' on the net jargon now, are ya? Casual, smooth, totally comfortable. Hey, a grown-up could get the hang of this Instant Messaging thing!
The brilliance is not just the forced ease with which both Harry and Erica poke away at their laptops feverishly, but it's the extra push by Meyers to have the characters narrate aloud as they type that really seals the deal. Nearly every single phrase Erica or Harry enter in the computer is followed with their whispering it aloud, as if it's a mere method of reassurance that says, yes, I am communicating through electronically written, live correspondence (Harry uses the default font while Erica prefers Georgia, size 12, by the way. That's called class, motherfuckers - learn it.)
I have my Wet Hot American Summer DVD and Christoper Guest canon at the ready when I'm in need of some subversive, intellectually inspiring comedy. But, once in a while, the moment calls for an appropriately bad movie that successfully employs lame cliches, predictable, cinematic drivel, and Jack Nicholson [finally] embracing old Wizard's Sleeve.
From Art and Language: "Letter to a Canadian Curator" Jan 1982, M. Baldwin, M Ramsden, C. Harrison.
"...it is difficult to distinguish between 'genuine' hysteria and malingering..."
Sincere Gestures and Campy Gestures are now indistinguishable in our culture. Sincere statements will always either reference camp, or be camp. The difference is dependent on each individual based on personal cultural history.
Romantic Comedies are just a machine at this point, but they fulfull human needs for repetition with (apparantly very little) variation.
Cheers
Posted by: Patrick Groneman | January 09, 2007 at 12:12 AM