An Analyzation of the Targets of the Past Forty Years of Comedy Films

It's interesting to determine what spurs the conversation on the Internet. You'd think that in general, with instant and continual access of every bit of information known to humanity, we'd talk about everything all the time. Instead, there is a steady stream of contemporary events that inform pop culture discussion. This week, even though it hasn't really been a domineering critical or commercial success by any means, everyone seems to have either the revitalization or desolation of sword-and-sandal epics in the wake of 300: Rise of an Empire (2014). Likewise, a few weeks ago in the wake of the death of Harold Ramis, everyone couldn't stop talking about the monumental influence he had on the modern comedy, even if Chevy Chase, Bill Murray, Doug Kenney, and John Landis are probably equally to blame.

Still, I was attracted to this piece by the New York Post, which essentially lamented the fact that the comedy films of old drove their satire through targeting venerable but corrupted institutions while the comedies of today only target poop and vaginas. While any kind of nostalgia-thumping like this is basically selective remembering (if you look at a list like this, most of the films we remember and talk about today are mostly satires - which is fair to say that they have perpetuated in our culture, but were far from the only films being produced or popular), it also drew me into a larger conversation - how do we judge the evolution of the modern Hollywood comedy film based on its target?

1970s: Institutional-Smearing Comedy

If we're looking at the big 70s films that we remember today - Robert Altman's M*A*S*H* (1970), a few Mel Brooks opuses (Young Frankenstein [1974] and Blazing Saddles [1974]), a few Monty Python opuses (Holy Grail [1975] and Life of Brian [1979], Burt Reynolds' role-defining Smokey and the Bandit (1977), Ramis' aforementioned Animal House (1978), and the greatest comedy of all time, Steve Martin's The Jerk (1979) - we do see a lot of busting on the stodgy and pompous institutions that control aspects of society, social customs, or even the acceptable narrative structure of Hollywood films themselves.

The target in a comedy is the butt of the joke. The Post piece suggests that targets in the 70s and 80s were great and powerful, compared to the crass subject matter of today. That's largely true. From the list above we see targets including the Korean War, racism, zealous religious followers, good ol' boy law enforcement, and academia. I'm for a bit of a loss, though, who the targets were for  Young Frankenstein, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and The Jerk. Do we have, respectively, Old Hollywood, English Legend, and uh, biker chicks?

The 70s were full of irreverence. As New Hollywood emerged through the collapse of the production code as well as the advent of modern blockbuster filmmaking, comedy reflected these thrown off shackles through its gutting of societal structure and thriving on high concept ensemble pieces. There's no central star in most of these films - it's more groups of people getting together and lampooning an established part of society.

1980s: The Satire Evolves on a Grand Scale

Comedies from the 80s explode a bit, though that may be due to the fact that as of late the 1980s have sort of been canonized as this decade where everything awesome originated - after all, the toys of the 80s are the biggest films of today. We have this strange adoration for the slick veneer of the 80s, even though it was really as shallow and money-driven as it's usually stereotyped. It still offered some of the best big-movies of its time - what other decade could we find so many forgettable Best Picture Winners and so many adored blockbusters?

When I think 80s Comedy my mind turns to Airplane! (1980), Caddyshack (1980), The Blues Brothers (1980), Stripes (1981), Vacation (1983), Beverly Hills Cop (1984), Ghostbusters (1984), This is Spinal Tap (1984), Back to the Future (1985), Ferris Bueller's Day Off (1986), Planes, Trains, and Automobiles (1987), Coming to America (1988), Who Framed Roger Rabbit? (1988), and Major League (1989). Who are our targets? Or another way we can look at it - who are our villains?

There is a bit of a mix here for sure. From this list we can see country clubs, Illinois Nazis, the Army, the police force, the EPA, and school administrators. There are, however, already a good mix of the kind of personal comedy that would define the Apatow era. Vacation and Planes, Trains, and Automobiles are both disastrous road trip movies where the greatest obstacles to the characters' final destination are the characters themselves. The high concept for Coming to America is an African Prince traveling to the United States to find a bride, but neither love nor Africa is really lampooned. Well, maybe the latter. Other films like Airplane! and This is Spinal Tap have achieved immortality through defying convention and digging more into specific characters with quick and dirty jokes than having a major target.

The 80s still evokes a lot of ensemble, but there's a bit of a paring down throughout the decade, so that eventually we see all these duos popping up. Doc and Marty, Neal and Dell, Eddie and Roger. Hell, Eddie Murphy's Black Cop / White Cop shtick defined a whole genre of buddy action films. There is still a lot of institution-bashing, but there is more introspection going on. More than that though, there are actually strong themes of convention shifting, whether it be from the improv-driven Spinal Tap, the animated Chinatown-esque Roger Rabbit, or the slapstick-or-bust rapidfire nature of Airplane!

1990s: The Megastar Era

These films keep paring down. From the 80s duos we see instead these big star-driven vehicles in the 90s, mostly for Jim Carrey, Adam Sandler, or Ben Stiller. There is still this mixture of targets, though, and the most successful of these 90s films are those that emulate the standards of the 1970s. Our list of general 90s comedies we're still talking about includes, Home Alone (1990), Wayne's World (1992), Cool Runnings (1993), Groundhog Day (1993), Ace Venture: Pet Detective (1994), Dumb & Dumber (1994), Clerks (1994), Billy Madison (1995), Friday (1995), Tommy Boy (1996), Happy Gilmore (1996), Austin Powers (1997), The Big Lebowski (1998), There's Something About Mary (1998), American Pie (1999), and Office Space (1999).

Now, feel free to debate my selection here (Why for instance, do I feel like Tommy Boy is more relevant than Black Sheep [1995]? I don't know. It just seems to me based on no evidence that more people like it and it's a bit of a better movie. Ditto with leaving out The Mask [1994]), but I'd call these in general the crop of 90s Comedy Films that peaked commercially (sometimes critically), but everyone's pretty cool with still watching today. So, what kind of institutions are we still targeting?

Olympic bobsledding...and uh...school administrators and golf again. That's about it. Suddenly these movies are about one central doofus character, sometimes a duo again like Wayne and Garth or Harry and Lloyd. Gone are the teams or camaraderie, though it returned a bit with fare like Lebowski, Pie, and Office Space by decades' end. The 90s are probably our most vapid decade. It's fitting for a decade where we were on top. With a booming economy and a Cold War victory in hand, it seemed like for all our angst, our institutions seemed to be working - so why target them? We lost a bit of that critical eye, because we weren't in fact as angry as we probably should have been. We had a pot-smoking, saxophone-playing president and Arsenio had his own TV show. We're pretty close to that point again, so who knows how the rest of the 2010s will play out.

There is some saying that comedy fails during really good times, which is perhaps why when looking over this list you don't get quite the feeling as you do when checking out the flicks from the 70s and 80s. These are classics, but more in a really frat-y way, and even though There's Something About Mary is really just as classy as Animal House it loses some charm, maybe because Stiller somehow is less charismatic and more neurotic than John Belushi. Or maybe it is because the 90s asks us to question less. It's more complacent with its authority figures. EXCEPT for Adam Sandler movies - which is why in the 90s Sandler was really the most brilliant auteur out there and truly emulating Ramis' efforts a decade and a half earlier.

2000s: Character and Self-Reflexive Comedy

This is tricky, because as I pick the most representative films of the 2000s there is sure to be more debate over what has really had the most influence. Still, when I think of 2000s people still talk about today, I think The Replacements (2000), The Royal Tenenbaums (2001), Super Troopers (2001), Wet Hot American Summer (2001), Zoolander (2001), Old School (2003), Anchorman (2004), Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle (2004), Napoleon Dynamite (2004), Shaun of the Dead (2004), The 40-Year Old Virgin (2005), Wedding Crashers (2005), Beerfest (2006), Borat (2006), Talladega Nights (2006), Knocked Up (2007), Superbad (2007), Tropic Thunder (2008), Pineapple Express (2008), Forgetting Sarah Marshall (2008), Step Brothers (2008), and The Hangover (2009).

Now, how come I can only name eight films from the 70s I'd consider relevant and twenty films from the 2000s? Well, time hasn't yet sorted out the best from the only very good yet. But to be honest, if you look at what these films are doing, you'll find a couple things that begin to circle back to what the 70s was doing - ensemble satires, with most importantly, the addition of a ton of character-driven comedy.

Ensembles are most visible in Wes Anderson, Broken Lizard, and Judd Apatow films. Even Will Ferrell comedies are pretty scared of leaving him up there alone to do Jim Carrey-like shtick. It's why the Ace Ventura-like extremely annoying character was brilliantly lampooned in a film like The Cable Guy (1998) - because in reality, no one could buddy with that kind of person and emerge with a complete life. Ferrell is much softer, and has made headway into these sort of buddy comedies reminiscent of the 80s. So, targets?

NFL Unions, family structures, highway patrolman, summer camps, male models, the fraternity system, local newscasters, racism, nerds, horror films, antisemitism and jingoistic beliefs, NASCAR, big budget Hollywood filmmaking, and anti-marijuana laws. I would contend that a film like Pineapple Express encourages questioning of authority at least as much as Stripes does. For the rest, the targets are smaller, more intimate. You can see a clear declining of really solid targets from about 2006 on. Forgetting Sarah Marshall and The Hangover, again the largest obstacles characters face are themselves. These films really dig into interpersonal relationships across their ensemble as the cause of conflict rather than an outside antagonist. I do, however, want to focus on one more decade, even three years' worth, to at least suggest that we're starting to be encouraged to question again, perhaps because we're once again in a time of absolute shit.

2010s: What the Hell do We do Now?

We're far too close to the past three and a quarter years of film to really figure out who is influencing who and how this decade is developing. I can, however, give you three films that have succeeded in being just as subversive as anything the 1970s gave us. For better or worse, they are three Will Ferrell movies: The Other Guys (2010), The Campaign (2012), and The LEGO Movie (2014).

The Other Guys had a lot to say about the foreground and background characters of action films, but as per Ice T's narration, the core Madoff-esque scheme that drives the plot, and the end credits infographic, it's really taking a very sly dig at the financial industry under the silly sheen of a buddy cop comedy film. In an age where we're more ostrich-like than ever while getting screwed over a rapidly growing income gulf, it's startling that such a mainstream comedy featuring A-List actors of both comedy and drama would contain such a subversive message.

Likewise, The Campaign is one of the more underrated films of 2012 with its virulent but believable take on the rigors of political office-seeking. It offers a brutal glimpse into the insane lengths it takes to win one of these contests, the rapid reaction of middle America to slight changes in public figure perception, and of course, the vested interest of nefarious corporations looking out for not the country's interest, but their own. It's another film that strongly asks us to question everything about our electorate institution.

Finally, The LEGO Movie is probably one of the most subversive films of all time, as I've recently and neatly outlined here. It pleads for a line to be drawn between creative thought and stuffy mind-destroying cultural oppression. Its largest target is the banality and unoriginality of pop culture itself.

You know, we could also throw in Anchorman 2: The Legend Continues (2013) for its succinct skewering  of the 24-hour news cycle, but that would be a little much, wouldn't it? It also features an ensemble cast and a tendency towards slapstick and silliness over crudity. So, why would anyone complain about this film? It's everything the 70s and 80s wanted to be. Which is why it's set in 1980. Adam McKay and Will Ferrell are truly the Ramis / Murray of this generation. Actually, it's more like Ramis and Murray were the McKay / Ferrell of their generation.

I have a lot of confidence for the future of comedy. I'm not sure that institutionally-targeted comedy makes the best kind of film, or that satire is even justifiable in the sense that it leads to comfortable inaction rather than actual policy change. In the end, none of this really matters. As long as it's funny.

The Best Brians in Media

Well folks, it's my birthday today. As far as egos go, mine is huge. In honour of that, I thought I'd take a moment today to talk about all the great Bryans in popular culture. Now, the actual count of properly spelled "Bryans" is painfully low. Luckily, my name is so cool I can pass off as a 'Brian" without anyone knowing the difference. Still, to some extent, masquerading as a "Brian" makes me feel gross and dirty inside. Just the way I like it. Let's put it to it!

Fictional Characters:

There are plenty of crappy Brians out there. There's Brian Fellows, Brian Piccolo, and Brian Flanagan. Don't know Brian Flanagan? It was Tom Cruise's character in Cocktail (1988). I had to look it up myself. I know what you're thinking, a pretty pathetic group here. I also just found out that Brian Piccolo was a real dude. Our numbers of great Fictional Brians decrease even more.

But wait - what's that? Brian Griffin comes to save the day! Peter Griffin's Dog and Lifemate from Family Guy is a cultured mutt and ever social drinker - a true testament to Brians everywhere. To same wit goes Brian Fantana, Paul Rudd's character from Anchorman (2004). The flowing locks and thick stash makes all us other Brians proud and envious simultaneously. To round out the drug abusing Brians, Jim Breuer's character from Half-Baked (1998) is another Brian who we can all aspire to. It's like our dreams have come true.

We next move on to two of the greatest Brians. The first is Brian Cohen from Life of Brian (1979), played by Graham Chapman in perhaps one of the greatest comedies of all time. As a child I often thought that the film was somehow about my life. In many ways it is about the life of all Brians. The other great Brian is of course Brian O'Conner from the Fast and Furious series of films, played by Paul Walker. Is it wrong to hold both of these Brians in identical esteem in the same paragraph? Probably, but a Brian action star is a rare find indeed. It kind of plays into his underrated white boy character in the first film. No one is going to respect some scrawny white boy named Brian who is trying to race against the Diesel. That is of course, unless he blows his NOS in epic fashion. We salute you, Paul Walker, for Brians everywhere.

We will also gladly lay claim to Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Because in our growing Brian Army, we need one of the Greatest Wizards of All Time fighting alongside Paul Walker and Brian Griffin. That's a sight to see, baby. Imagine the bar at that battle, to be honest (or at least the flask use), between Griffin and Fantana. Dumbledore would probably jump in on that, too. Get a little saucy and awkwardly hit on Brian Cohen, making him squirmily uncomfortable. These are our people. It's awesome.

Real People:

We have some pretty good real life Brians to help fill out our army. First we've got Brian De Palma, director of movies like Scarface (1983), The Untouchables (1987), and Mission: Impossible (1996). Not bad. From there we have character actors Brian Doyle-Murray and Brian Cox. Doyle-Murray had roles in everything from the Bill Murray movie Caddyshack (1980) to the Bill Murray movie Groundhog Day (1993). But really, of all the Murray brothers who aren't Bill, Brian Doyle- is the best. That's with a nice acknowledgement of Joel Murray's excellent role in God Bless America (2011). I do feel like I'm overly dissing Doyle-Murray here, he has some great stand-out roles in a few Vacation movies and as Captain K'nuckles in The Marvelous Misadventures of Flapjack - great show.

We can round out our Brian Brigade with Brian Posehn and Brian O'Halloran. The first is a big giant comedian who loves Metal and is a hilarious part of the Comedians of Comedian quartet that also includes Zach Galifianakis. The latter is that dude from Clerks. (1994).

The Bryans

Like I said, this is all well and good, but something just doesn't feel right honouring all these Brians. It's like homo sapiens honouring Neanderthals. We're pretty close but for a chromosome or two - and that makes all the difference. There are only two really great real-life Bryans and a single great Fictional Bryan that I found after literally minutes of IMDB searching.

The first is director Bryan Singer, who has created such epic films as The Usual Suspects (1995), X-Men (2000), X2 (2003) and...other films like Superman Returns (2006) and Valkyrie (2008). Even on his mainstream misses he gets points for pushing a more classic narrative in ways that buck against current trends, so we can take him in for it.

The other actual Bryan is Bryan Cranston, who is hotter than Hansel right now. He had us as Tim Whatley on Seinfeld twenty years ago, but in other roles such as Hal the Dad on Malcolm in the Middle and as Walter White on a little show called Breaking Bad, he's got us hook, line, and sinker. Even as the Colonel with one arm in Saving Private Ryan (1998) and as the old mechanic dude in Drive (2011) he's shined. Actually, you notice how every good movie suddenly has Bryan Cranston in it now? Or at least, every movie that's trying to be good because it has Bryan Cranston in it now. This ranges from Contagion (2011) to John Carter (2012) to Rock of Ages (2012) and Total Recall (2012). Wow. Actually about 3/8 of those are terrible (we still want to give John Carter some credit...). He's coming at us again in Ben Affleck's Argo (2012). Sounds good to us.

Well, our massive list ends with the greatest Bryan of all, Bryan Mills, more properly known as Liam Neeson from Taken (2008). He is quite simply, the coolest Bryan of all time. And he spells his name correctly, which is a plus. Not only is he a complete badass that simultaneously emits insane intense anger towards his enemies and warm daddy hugginess towards his family, but he's fully capable of killing anyone ever. He might as well be featured in that upcoming Deadpool comic where he kills the entire Marvel Universe. He could do it. Or at least deal out some flesh wounds. What a time to be a Bryan. Bryan Mills will lead us. Possibly to a drunken orgy if Dumbledore get his way, but hey, you gotta be one with your inner Bryan.

Celebrate me with me - watch some Taken.

Because They're Everywhere: 9 Parts of Mainstream Culture I Hate

In honour of Mike Posner's "Cooler Than Me" which makes me want to drown and kill cute puppies whenever I hear it, I thought I'd take a moment today to go on a nice ramble about other parts of Pop Culture I absolutely despise. See, this is relatively exceptional. Even shows like Jersey Shore or films like Transformers (2007) I'll watch and even enjoy. They are incredibly stupid and of no artistic or spiritual merit, but I find myself able to enjoy them. No, today we're talking about three movies, three television shows and three bands that I absolutely can not watch or listen to because they just anger up the blood. They fill me with such unsustainable rage that I get into Baby-Punching Mode. Films like Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer (2007) that are absolutely atrocious and clearly deeply flawed can still have some cool parts, some reason for enjoyment even if it's only to get over a massive Sunday Hangover on F/X. The following are those that commit the Deepest and Darkest of Sins. And going into this article I admit forthwright that yeah, these are pretty mainstream and for the most part, massively popular. You're going to be surprised. Let's begin:

Three Films that Make Me Want to Strangle Kittens:

I'll also admit that for some of these I don't really have an explanation. Such is the case of Miami Vice (2006) and Paycheck (2003). I was prepared to turn my mind off for both films but instead they obnoxiously demanded my attention for needlessly complicated plots and attempts at deep, brooding character interaction that was totally uncalled for. Michael Bay is a fucking visionary because he delivers exactly what the audience wants. He doesn't pretend he's an auteur. Michael Mann's Miami Vice is such a pretentious piece of shit, the kind of piece of shit that considers itself an excellent, thinking action film. Instead it's a boring, dumb action film without the requisite action necessary to justify it's viewing. I mean, Face/Off (1997) is implausible, but awesome stuff happens on a second-by-second basis, which is backed up by actors playing slimily against each other with a whole lot of fun involved. Paycheck involves Assfleck at one of his Unrelentingly Douchiest and Colin Ferrell and somehow-Oscar Winner Jamie Foxx commit sins against got in Miami Vice. I can't bother with either one.

Another film I actively hate and will always refuse to watch is X-Men Origins: Wolverine (2009). I already summed up most of my feelings here. Everything is wrong with this movie. It's a non-hardcore movie that tries to be violent, it's a comic-reference heavy film that gets all its references wrong. Hugh Jackman acting in any movie that doesn't begin with "The Prest" and end with "ige," should be shot on sight without question. Damn is this film bad. It's so bad it really insults Comic and Wolverine Fans everywhere, and that is the truest sin of all. See also: Avabar: The Last Bartender (2010).

Three Television Shows that Make Me Want to Eat My Own Dick:

You're going to think I'm absolutely crazy but I absolutely hate The Colbert Report. I fucking hate it. Steven Colbert is plenty talented on his own and I enjoyed the first couple years but after that we have problems. Part of which is that Steven Colbert IS really funny on his own! The Colbert Report has all but prevented him from doing other fantastic voice work as well as comedy much more innovative that The Fake News. The fake gimmick of The Colbert Report has become stale, far too political (Again, I have admittedly gone to the point where this and The Daily Show actually give me more non-NFL news that I'm prepared to handle in a single sitting) and even hipster-ish. It panders to a half-educated drunken college crowd that pretends to understand the jokes and arbitrarily assigned Colbert the mantle of Generational Icon long ago and has since ceased to question it. It's a bland repetitive humour that feeds off its audience rather than the other way around. The subversion is complete. Move on. At least whoever did this agrees.

Do I even have room for two more TV Shows? I hate every possible incarnation of Scooby Doo. It's worked itself into such a limited paradigm - oh hey, it's not a ghost, it's Old Man Jenkins! Every once in a while they introduce REAL Monsters which is completely contrary to the determined Rules of its Universe, thus altering Suspension of Disbelief. There's no winning with Scooby Doo. Predictability or Destruction of Universe. Once you've seen a single episode you've seen every one (wait, fuck that, Scooby Doo is so ingrained in our Pop Culture that you could recite a Scooby Doo episode from memory without ever seeing the show). Awful, awful lazy writing. Despite Trope Innovation, Scooby is Bullshit.

Speaking of Lazy Writing, let's talk Family Guy. Not unlike similar bullshit shows like Wonder Showzen and Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job!, Family Guy relies on a stretched out, Discomfort Humour that seeks to test and annoy its audience rather than enlighten them. Hidden under guises of "surreality" and Nostalgia-Pandering, Family Guy is an awful awful show that tricks its viewers into thinking it's funny. This shit is not surreal. People throw around the term Surreal as an excuse for most of Adult Swim's bullshit to fly across their faces without just criticism. Monty Python's Flying Circus is the definition of surreal, even The Other Guys (2010) can fit the description very accurately. It is disorder presenting itself as order, thus becoming subversive, innovative and requiring the audience to think in ways it hasn't (or couldn't) before. The Superior Shows on Cartoon Network's Late Hour right now are The Venture Bros and The Boondocks, shows reliant on heavy, lasting character development to fuel jokes both subtle and outrageous whilst allowing for greater commitment to story that rewards the viewer both aesthetically and intellectually. Family Guy does none of this. Random for the sake of Random is pitiful. Devoid of meaning there is no meaning. South Park, better than any show or article has nailed it better than I ever could.

Three Bands that Make Me Want to Blow Coke and Rape Some Nuns:

I'm getting angrier and angrier as I'm going through this so I'll try to wrap this up here, especially because as you can tell, I take my Music pretty seriously. I can't stand Asher Roth for reasons similar to my hatred of a College Crowd that adores Colbert. Props to Spose who made Asher's genre awesome while dissing him. It's a stereotype, simplification and glorification of the College Experience. Actually for the most part it's far too tame. Where is the herpes, Asher? And what parties are you at that end at 3 AM? Who the fuck uses condoms in college, anyway? Get the fuck out of here. For the most part, it's the kind of winking pretension that really irritates me. It creates Artificiality out of the college experience instead of Organic Fun. I mean, there used to be propriety and shame over college alcoholics failing out due to over-partying. Asher made a hit single about it. I- dammit, this is how aneurysms start.

Alright, there are two more bands that I cannot listen to for more than two or three seconds, yet both are commonly hailed as Classics, which I believe was uncalled for. I speak of U2 and Dave Matthews Band. I can't stand either of this shit, mostly because both of these guys' voices would sound perfect playing over parties where a bunch of dudes get blown by other dudes. Dave, what the hell is wrong with Dave? It sounds like Bruce Vilanch stomping on an angry badger. It's a Crime against God. And Bono, oh fucking Bono. Just die, Bono. Die a horrible death. How can this cat give so much and still seem so full of himself? Oh right, South Park nailed that one, too. And speaking of South Park, what the fuck is up with that show? As for Bono it's probably something like I get the impression that he's not truly altruistic, he helps out because it's expected of him, not because it's his true wishes. It's why he's still rich as shit, I mean, don't give half, Paul, you want to truly become enlightened give it all up, join an Ashram somewhere, don't prance around Africa in your Gucci Loafers you arrogant son of a cock. Since when did U2 become classic rock? Why the fuck do I turn on my Classic Rock Station and the setlist goes Stones, Beatles, Zep, Doors, U2? How the fuck did U2 get in that crowd. This is fucking bullshit.

Now I'm really angry. I hope none of you like Steven Colbert anymore.

Trends: Robin Hood, the Alamo and Our Bizarre need for Historical Accuracy, 2004 - Present

This has bothered me ever since the first trailer for Robin Hood (2010) came out. The whole advertising campaign brands this thing as a wholly "untold story" presenting a very realistic version of the Man in Tights. What the hell? It's all grimy and bloody and intense. I was pretty miffed by the whole thing until I started opening my horizon a bit and noticed that this trend extends far beyond the Merrie Men. This is a big trend of the past decade, and if 'Hood's success will be any indication, this decade as well. Let's call it Needless Historical Accuracy.

Let's go way back. Commentators on Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975) remark that part of the reason the absurd humour works is due to the intense realism of the scenes. Think of the "Bring Out Your Dead" scene. How dirty and miserable that is. The bizarre jokes provide a higher contrast and thus a greater laughing jolt. But we're getting off point, the reason I mention this at all is that the level of realism in scenes like that is equal (or surpasses) many of the films I'm about to mention. Just let that sit a minute.

A friend of mine (you can read him here actually) recently pointed out the differences between the original version of The Alamo (1960) with John Wayne and the more recent "retelling" of the battle with Dennis Quaid (2004). The first film was notable for terrible historical inaccuracies, liberties regarding the premise and causes for battle and generally glorifying American Manifest Destiny attitudes. The second film, while attempting to rectify some of these problems, still had its share of inaccuracy, but purported itself as superior to its predecessor based on its strive for greater realism, both with the battle effects and attention to History.

But The Alamo (2004) is a worse film than The Alamo (1960). Thus we need to ask ourselves: Does greater realism provide for a better movie?* Why bother at all? I remember another 2004 film, King Arthur, which had virtually an identical ad campaign as Robin Hood (plus a blue Kiera Knightly for some reason). Just look at that. The King Arthur media campaign touted the film as the "REAL" story of King Arthur, literally "The Truth behind the Legend!" But of course, try as they might, there really is NO unifying story of King Arthur and his Roundtable, moreover just a wide collection of legends and stories concerning the mythical king. While some Historians for some reason actually defended the research in the film it's stunningly clear that even if the story was remotely true, it remains one of many versions of the legend, all considered legitimate in different circles (side note: while researching this post I found a great piece of King Arthur's marketing program on Wikipedia - take a look).

This trend however, certainly does not extend only to historical epics. The two biggest Superhero films of the past few years have succeeded exactly because of the amount of real they have injected into their respective universes. I speak of the Batman "Nolanverse" as well as the Iron Man franchise. I've already written a bit about how "real world" Iron Man (2008) was (trial and error creation of a suit based on possible technology, fighting ACTUAL American enemies in the Global War on Terror, later in Iron Man 2 [2010] Stark's dealing with some factual political and personal consequences of his reckless actions in the first film). In fact, the largest extrusion of major villain the Mandarin in Part 3 is the fact that his main magic power doesn't click with the establishment of the universe in the real world. Jon Favreau even seems to assume his background will need to be shifted to accommodate his acceptability (some of this is dependent on how Thor [2011] is both treated and received by audiences).

Both Batman Begins (2005) and The Dark Knight (2008) succeeded because of their emphasis on a gritty reality that they simultaneously made palatable to audiences. This style has been attempted again and again to lesser effect. Fans now desire villains that could exist in the real world, or at least a realistic treatment of the fantastic. Villains like Killer Croc, Clayface or even The Ventriloquist are certainly out of the question for future Nolan films (meh, they all kind of suck anyway), but even something that barely stretches the imagination like Poison Ivy or Bane would certainly be out (wait...that's probably a good thing...). It's not necessarily filmmakers fault at all, but it seems as though fans want this real-world treatment in order to accept the story. It's bizarre really.

Even the Good Unfunny Comedy I delved into last month tends to show more realistic reactions to situations and violence than prior years' films have done. Let's expand further to incorporate the documentary-style shows like The Office and Parks and Recreation (or just go straight to Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan [2006] to prove my point).

What did we start this with? Robin Hood? Right. There's no fucking untold story of Robin Hood. The only untold story is some story that some other Hollywood film or TV show hasn't mentioned. Which, if you have a brain you can figure out is any story anybody just makes up about Robin Hood. Men in Tights (1993), THAT was an untold story about Robin Hood. The Crowe Robin Hood may in fact be a very good film, Ridley Scott, if judgment of Robin Hood's trailer is any indication, certainly appears to know how to rip off his own good films. Its marketing is hokey though, and its place within the Needless Historical Accuracy films that place an over-reliance on realism should be assured.

Hey and you heard it here - I warned you guys.

Ugh.



*I'll immediately say a big yes if the film is The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007) which is a fantastic film (deserved to be on this list) and is supposedly incredibly accurate according to the historical figures' descendants.

The Very Very Silly Post Concerning Monty Python

It's....

Welcome to the obligatory Monty Python 40th Anniversary Post. This post will forever be notable for its longevity, general admiralty and repeated references to fried haddock. This is a wholly compulsory post, believe me I'd rather be out drinking a Graham Chapman worth of vodka. The post must go on like any other, so now for something completely different:

The Owl-Stretching Inspiration - I've managed to catch three parts so far out of the Six Party IFC Documentary, Monty Python Almost the Truth (The Lawyer's Cut) (2009), which you all can watch at 9:00 pm this very night and the next two nights after. Or catch the whole mess on DVD. I've gotten most of me info from the doc, but it's also notable to scribe to all the universe here my thoughts in general on the slimy scaly comedians.

Days of Yore (When the Parrot was Still Alive) -

Python was very influential in a tremendous consortment of ways. Prior to the show, which admittedly was inspired by Spike Milligan's Q5 series among others, most comedy was pretty flat. There'd be a joke, punchline, everyone laughs, move on. The swarthy Pythons however, were never very satisfied with that. They burst free from a lot of restraints that comedy had (and still does), fiddling with joke and plot structure and sketch show narrative (with mind you, good and ill results). It became and still is one of the freest shows ever put on television. This of course also makes it one of the weirdest.



It's funny though. Like a horde of angry foaming badgers descending on a small English village, pillaging and hording, eventually electing a king who imposes unadjusted tax breaks for those who stand in shallow water as opposed to land.

"I'll have the lot."

While on land, the badgers watched the Pythons make five feature films, about three of which are wholly original and one of which has a consistent plot. I consider Meaning of Life (1983) to be by far the funniest, but Life of Brian (1979) is artistically the best from a film standpoint. I honestly don't give a lot of props to Holy Grail (1975), which should be heresy to most of you k-nigts, but I don't care. More of the film is miss than hit and there's enough cop-outs to be frustrating to me.



It's interesting that they pulled off any movies at all, and I feel like they hit their timing perfect by Meaning of Life. Loaded with offensive and barely watchable material, it's the closest thing you could get to a true translation of what Flying Circus should have been on the big screen. What made the show so revolutionary is its reliance on sketch jokes, but freedom from sketch parameters. They blew the frame like a penguin sitting on top of a television set.

"Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Baked Beans, Spam, Spam, Spam and Spam"

In your face it explodes. One thing besides Lorne Michael's thining hairline that has been with Saturday Night Live since the beginning is a chronic inability to finish a sketch. It's tough because in sketch comedy typically a bizarre situation is presented simply for the given joke and then a forced ending can be pretty awkward. Python realised this very early on and decided to just ignore this problem. This aspect both makes the show revolutionary and alienates it from people who don't "get" it. Many viewers (typically American) are so inundated with a stale form of set-up/pay-off comedy that Python is weird and scary to them. If you don't get Python and consider it weird and scary it may give you some rest that those of us who do get Python still consider it weird and scary.

It works because once the joke is done, the sketch has no more purpose. There is no need to awkwardly finish. Instead Terry Gilliam as a knight with a chicken or Graham Chapman as a General comes on stage and ushers the sketch players off. It creates a feeling of abandonment in some I believe, not unlike the equally revolutionary plot turns of recent Coen Bros films No Country for Old Men (2007) and Burn After Reading (2008). The narrative structure of these movies as well as much of Python is so lose and constantly toyed with that there ends up being little to grab on to. The effectiveness of this style in Coen films is debatable, but within television sketch comedy it becomes very liberating and provides many more jokes and sketches a quicker pace than would normally be allowed with a conventional structure.

"I'd like to answer this question if I may in two ways. Firstly in my normal voice and then in a kind of silly high-pitched whine."

Modern Comedy while is also conventional in a narrative sense also tends to be much less silly than Python. The heartfelt aspects of Apatow Comedy has been praised with giving a film like Knocked Up (2007) much more depth than it would contain otherwise. Indeed without scatological male-centric humour the film would be little more than a chick flick. Again, Python really understood the meaning of comedy and realised that this was also unnecessary. There is a much greater degree of pure silliness, comic actors going all out for their dollar here.



You can see a lot of this silliness in surreal shows like Family Guy and South Park, the latter of which actually directly inspired by Gilliam-style cut-out animation. There is also a huge influence in The Simpsons, as well as most surreal cartoony Adult Swim programs. I miss a time when live action comedy was this goofy; yet the audiences of New Millennium are far leaning towards reality. The immense popularity of Chris Nolan's realistic take on Batman (Begins [2005] and The Dark Knight [2008]), the upsurge of reality TV since Survivor in 2000, and finally the popularity (or at least commonality) of single-cam set-ups such as The Office and most of this line-up as well as critical hits Arrested Development and Curb Your Enthusiasm attest to this notion of anti-silly.

This post has become too long and annotative, it must be cut short. Move on to the next one about movies.