So there you are, sitting in your comfy chair popping the remote, and suddenly you’re stuck as if you’ve plopped into Krazy-Glue-based quicksand: It’s that movie, the one from which you just can’t turn away, no matter where you came in.
The starting point doesn’t matter; it’s such a favorite you can pick it up anywhere, never tiring of the dialogue you know by heart, the characters you may be more familiar with than some of your family members.
Like Reggie Dunlop (Paul Newman), coach of the Charlestown Chiefs. “Slap Shot” (1977) is one of those movies that some of us low-brows just can’t get enough of, and whether I start with the introduction of the rowdy Hanson brothers or Reggie’s assault on the “Lady of Spain”-loving organist or Ned Braden’s (Michael Ontkean) chilly striptease, I can’t turn away. Sad, but true.
I asked some of my co-workers to share their not-so-guilty pleasures for this week, and I ask the same of readers for next week. Please send your faves by Tuesday to ctc-movies@tribune.com or write to Movies, Chicago Tribune, 435 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, IL 60611. Keep it clean and we may select your entries for publication June 2.
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I am desperate to see “The Money Pit” (1986). Sadly, I am always desperate to see this movie, even after watching it two or three days in a row. Trust me, I’ve tried that tack. I just can’t get enough. Whether I happen upon the scene where Walter Fielding (Tom Hanks) has been swallowed up to his elbows by a gaping hole in the floor, and is stuck there, singing energetically to himself, or the one where he’s dancing happily on his recently rebuilt stairs, I’m tuned in for the duration. I find the slapstick hilarious, the ridiculous plot line hilarious, the verbal sparring hilarious. You get the idea. Interestingly (although that may be pushing it), I’ve never been tempted to buy the movie. I suppose I worry that owning “TMP” and gaining the ability to watch it whenever the urge struck would sour my long and fruitful relationship with Hanks, Shelley Long, et al. Besides, there’s something almost pathetically exciting about stumbling upon it during mindless clicking. It’s a feeling akin to arriving at, as Walter puts it, “Home, crap home.”
— Jessica Reaves
The essential brilliance of “Nobody’s Fool” (1994), from the Richard Russo novel, is that everybody is elevated by the acting clinic being put on by Paul Newman and the late Jessica Tandy. Newman is Sully, a ne’er-do-well resident of a small town. He has a heart of gold, something that is clearly discerned by his long-time landlady (Tandy). This movie is filled with priceless scenes, particularly when Sully wins the town judge’s artificial leg in a poker game, then helps his fearful grandson become less so by helping him give the judge his leg back. And the snow blower exchange moments are priceless. Even Bruce Willis turns in a good performance. Go figure.
— Kevin Williams
The problem with “The Godfather” (1972) isn’t its almost three-hour length. It’s the fact that no matter where you find it, there is a compelling scene that will suck you in. For a time, I seemed to always show up when Sonny Corleone (James Caan) has just assumed the role of godfather, and is about to hit the tollway, and fate. Whenever, wherever you catch this one, you’re in. My wife warns me every time about this movie. “Don’t stop on that channel,” she says. Do I listen? Nope. And there I am, on the sofa, nodding into late-night snacks.
— K.W.
I’d like to honor a movie that, over the years, has given me more sheer pleasure than any other. That would be director Howard Hawks’ lean and handsome 1944 adaptation of what he always insisted was his pal Ernest Hemingway’s worst novel, “To Have and Have Not.” Set in wartime Martinique, “Have” stars Humphrey Bogart as fishing boat captain Harry Morgan (grace under pressure personified), Lauren Bacall as his inamorata Marie or “Slim” (named and modeled after Hawks’ then-wife Nancy, a.k.a. “Slim”) and Walter Brennan as Harry’s rummy chum Eddie, whose trick opening line is “Was you ever bit by a dead bee?” The movie is a non-stop treat. Most of all, it gives you the hard-core joy of watching Bogie and Bacall fall in love. (“You know how to whistle don’t you? You just put your lips together … “)
— Michael Wilmington
Another movie I’d never miss is Jean Renoir’s 1939 masterpiece “Rules of the Game” (“La Regle du jeu”), one of the all-time great ensemble films–a giddy, wonderful mix of comedy, romance, drama, farce and tragedy. Upstairs, a straight-arrow aviator hero, Andre (Roland Toutain) is in love with Christine (Nora Gregor), adventurous wife of the host, the Marquis de la Chesnaye (Marcel Dalio), who’s tolerant of adultery if it doesn’t get serious. Downstairs, a randy little poacher turned manservant, Marceau (Julien Carette) pursues Christine’s maid Lisette (Paulette Dubost), the flirtatious wife of dour gamekeeper Schumacher (Gaston Modot). Renoir himself plays everybody’s buddy Octave, and the film’s great signature line is the Marquis’ sadly tolerant “Everyone has his reasons.” The actor who says that line, by the way, is also in “To Have and Have Not.” In that movie, Dalio plays Harry’s friend Frenchy, one of the happy few who guess the right answer to Eddie’s dead bee riddle.
— M.W.
I don’t like baseball, but I like “Major League” (1989)–except for the silly love scenes between Rene Russo and Tom Berenger. The Cleveland Indians stink, and their former showgirl owner wants them to sink even lower, so she can move the team. She hires a bunch of has-beens and never-will-be’s. They unite in anger against her, and you know the picture, because you’ve seen it about 14 times. Charlie Sheen as the California Penal League pitcher is every bit as memorable as Wesley Snipes’ Willie Mays Hayes. And gravel-voiced James Gammon as the team’s manager steals the show.
— K.W.
In the summer of 1978, two 11-year-old girls locked themselves inside on a hot summer day, pulled the curtains and proceeded to watch “The Sound of Music”(1965) over and over and over. The novelty of a brand-new Laserdisc player allowed us (yes, I was one of the girls) to hit play, sing with Maria and Mother Abbess and the entire Von Trapp clan through the 2 1/2-hour movie–and then just hit play and start again. Over the course of a week, we must’ve watched the hills come alive a dozen times. I still know most of it by heart, and when it pops up for its annual network airing I can never resist watching. That house! The mountains! That dreaded whistle! The clothes made of curtains! So much to take in. And then there’s the pining for Rolfe and, oh, if only to be 16. And the suspense of the great escape. Phew! It still sweeps me away every time.
— Lara Weber
The Coen Brothers have never topped “Blood Simple” (1984) for movie irresistibility. This is the tale of a body that won’t go away, and wherever it shows up, there’s lots of blood in attendance. It’s a murder mystery/love triangle at heart, but it’s also a character study, and a showcase of the great actor M. Emmet Walsh and the unctuous, reach up to scratch a snake’s belly private eye Loren Visser. You could see the Coens getting all full of themselves already, but this one’s priceless.
— K.W.
So many cable channels, so many movies, so little time. Since they rarely show my all-time favorite movie, “Wings of Desire,” or other favorites from Robert Altman such as “Nashville,” what stops me depends on who else is in the room with me (anyone with pre-teen girls knows dad surrenders the remote to them … always) and where I am. For the big plasma, almost anything in HD does the trick (“War of the Worlds,” “Sin City” and “Batman Begins” have been in recent rotation). For other TVs, there’s something hypnotic and glowing about latter-day Kubrick (“Eyes Wide Shut,” “The Shining”) and Spielberg (“A.I.” and “Minority Report”), and two classics by Woody Allen (“Annie Hall” and “Hannah and Her Sisters”) that conjure emotions from what seems like lifetimes ago).
— Scott L. Powers
Quentin Tarantino has delivered some great ones, but I have to avert my gaze when I even see “Pulp Fiction” (1994) on the channel grid, because once you start . . . . So many great lines, so much screen time for so many memorable characters. Samuel L. Jackson’s Jules rocks the house, particularly when telling would-be robber Tim Roth which wallet is his. And has there been a more malevolent character than Marcellus Wallace? What was in the case doesn’t even matter. Or perhaps what’s in the case is the time this movie will cost you if you start watching it.
— K.W.
It all depends on our moods, which depend on the quality of the take-out. But three or four times across the last three or four years, my wife and I have considered ourselves fortunate to come across “Jaws” (1975) on the telly, just after the Thai Valley pork with spinach curry and chicken coconut soup has arrived. Thai Valley take-out and Steven Spielberg’s merry gut-grinder: It’s a better combination than “Anaconda” and Mr. Pollo even. Or a land-based killer-monster movie like “Tremors” with a New York style pizza from Noli’s. So: Why “Jaws”? Have you seen it lately? It’s exciting as hell. Realizing they’re different sorts of movies I prefer it by miles to “E.T.” as well as to most of the large, weighty Spielberg pictures that followed. It’s better than practically all of them, in fact, in more ways than it feels proper to admit.
— Michael Phillips
“When Harry Met Sally” (1989): Billy Crystal isn’t even attractive. But there’s something about the chemistry between Crystal’s wise-cracking Harry Burns and Meg Ryan’s persnickety Sally Albright that is magic–or, at least, perfect romantic comedy. They hate each other, they become best friends, they sleep together, they hate each other. And yet. . . . Can a man and a woman be best friends? Well, judging by the last speech, when Harry tells Sally, “And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night,” the answer is no. That Harry–he makes me cry every time.
— Linda Bergstrom
“Batman.” The original with Michael Keaton and Jack Nich-olson. I cannot move, and I get ugly with whoever tries to change the channel–even though we own the VHS and DVD versions! Even when I’m in a mall and it’s showing on the floor-model TVs, I just stand there, transfixed. What hypnotizes me every time is the Caped Crusader’s costume, come alive from the comic books of my youth. I cannot wait until the Joker shoots down the Batwing with a pistol with an impossibly long barrel. During the confrontation in the belfry, I almost mouth the words when Joker says, “You wouldn’t hit a man with glasses”–and Batman punches him in the face. My other favorite line: The Joker says, “You made me,” and Batman replies, “You made me first.” Then there’s the wonderful climax, wherein the Joker is about to escape via helicopter but gets all tied up in Batman’s grappling hook and a gargoyle ornament outside the belfry and falls to his death. But we can’t celebrate just yet, because Joker’s only seemingly dead on the pavement many stories below. But that maniacal cackling is from his broken laugh machine.
— Geoff Brown
I can’t pass up Billy Wilder’s “Stalag 17” (1953), a mystery wrapped in a war movie. The Nazis’ preternatural knowledge of escape plans cause POWs to turn on wheeler-dealer barrackmate Sefton (William Holden), whose trading with the guards has netted a trunk full of goodies (cameras, wine, cuckoo clocks), visits to the Russian women POWs in an adjacent camp and the suspicion of his companions. Comic relief comes from Harry Shapiro (Harvey Lembeck) and Stanislas “Animal” Kasava (Robert Strauss), who briefly succeed in a ruse to enter the Russian women’s compound, and a Christmas dance scene where Animal pledges his love to partner Betty Grable (Shapiro through wire-happy eyes). Sefton’s discovery of the real spy feeding info via Sgt. Schulz (Sig Ruman) to commandant Col. von Scherbach (Otto Preminger), and his plan to rid the barracks of the Nazi rat is inspired.
— Michael Esposito
Any chance I get to control the remote is rare and means a respite from juiceboxes, “Arthur,” and PBS Kids. If it’s just me, then a cold Guinness and “Platoon” (1986), Oliver Stone’s gripping account of the Vietnam war, or Lewis Gilbert’s “Sink the Bismarck” (1960) from the days of the Big Three–NBC, CBS, ABC–and WGN. The latter is one of the great sea hunts from WW II, shot in black and white in a docudrama style. Now if I’m with my wife, I have to give peace a chance and watch Howard Hawks’ “His Girl Friday” (1940), with Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell. The wonderfully witty dialogue, with a glass of our favorite red wine, still manages to entertain and delight. Depending on the circumstances, any of these three movies will do it for me.
— Geoff Black
“Don’t touch the chrome, don’t touch the upholstery, don’t touch nuttin’,” screams the late wrestling great Captain Lou Albano at the hapless hoods portrayed by Joe Piscopo and Danny DeVito in “Wise Guys” (1986). This movie fundamentally stinks, so why it has such a place in my heart I couldn’t tell you, but it does. Albano steals every last scene he’s in, and Harvey Keitel is just plain thuggish. A classic.
— K.W.
“Terms of Endearment” (1983): Sure, Aurora Greenway (Shirley MacLaine) and Garret Breedlove (Jack Nicholson) have a rousing, laugh-inducing time, but inevitably the tears fall when constantly bickering mother Aurora and daughter Emma Greenway Horton (Debra Winger) pair up. (A: I just don’t want to fight anymore. E: What do you mean? When do we fight? A: WHEN do we FIGHT? I always think of us as fighting! E: That’s because you’re never satisfied with me.) Ouch. Yet, in the final scenes when mother and daughter stick by each other, the faucets gush full force.
— Judy Hevrdejs
Good luck getting past “Midnight Run” (1988), the buddy flick starring Charles Grodin, Robert De Niro and Yaphet Kotto and his terrible hair. De Niro has a great flair for comedy, and this 1988 flick was when he was still acting, instead of playing Robert De Niro all the time. You know the tale: De Niro is a bounty hunter who is trying to get Grodin, a mob accountant, back to L.A. by midnight. Along the way the pair encounters misadventures galore, running afoul of another bounty hunter and the FBI. Dennis Farina’s increasingly violent mob boss is the pinnacle of tongue-in-cheek brilliance.
— K.W.
What can I say about Mel Brooks’ “Young Frankenstein” that hasn’t already been said, except I think it’s a lot funnier than “Blazing Saddles.” From an insane cast–Gene Wilder, Marty Feldman, Cloris Leachman and Madeleine Kahn, etc.–to goofy lines like “Werewolf.” “Werewolf?” “There.” “There what?” “There wolf.” “There castle.”–to Frau Blucher’s (Leachman) “Yes, yes. Say it . He vas my…BOYFRIEND!”–to sight gags (“Walk this way” at the train station, “What hump?”) to jokes that can’t be repeated here…
— J.H.
“Ferris Bueller’s Day Off,” to see that impish Matt Broderick (I call him Matt since we’re so close after seeing his movie a jillion times). It’s always worth a watch to see exasperated sister Jennifer Gray, the parade scene, the … oh, you get the picture.
And “Airplane,” just to hear Leslie Nielsen answer, “Don’t call me Shirley.” OK, now I find the movie interminably slow, but I still sit through it.
— J.H.
