Nicolas Winding Refn’s “Drive” is the essence of crime cinema cool boiled down to its bones, combining the spartan feel of Jean-Pierre Melville’s “Le Samourai” with the sheen of Michael Mann’s ’80s output like “Thief.” Throw in a protagonist reminiscent of Ryan O’Neill’s strong silent wheelman in Walter Hill’s “The Driver,” and you’ve got a shiny movie buff confection.

Ryan Gosling completely owns the nameless lead role, shiny scorpion jacket and all. The year Gosling had in 2011 effectively silenced his critics who wrote him off as a pretty face in “The Notebook,” with “Drive” standing at the head of the pack. His soft exterior makes his cool-yet-vicious character in “Drive” all the more potent whenever he has to stomp some poor henchman’s head in.

I love grizzled, masculine action heroes like Liam Neeson and Lee Marvin as much as the next red-blooded American, but Gosling steps up to the plate, points to the outfield, and knocks the ball straight into the spark-spewing lights. Don’t let his soft features or feathery surname fool you. Gosling brilliantly channels the brand of cool perfected by Alain Delon in Melville’s quiet heist & hitman sagas.

Another great turn is given by Albert Brooks, normally known for playing lovable characters with low self-esteem in “Broadcast News” and “Defending Your Life.” Any trace of Brooks’s natural likability is nowhere to be found in “Drive.” He completely embodies a truly frightening gangster heavy with a penchant for fileting his enemies with a razor. In a conversation with Gosling, he says, “I used to produce movies, in the eighties. Kinda like action films, sexy stuff. One critic called them European. I thought they were shit.” This makes me wonder if Brooks’s character isn’t a homicidal take on Menahem Golan or Andy Sidaris. Maybe both?

As my co-host on the HomeVideodrome podcast pointed out this week, “Drive” was snubbed at the Oscars this year, garnering only one nomination for Achievement in Sound Editing. There were only nine nominations for Best Picture, as opposed to the ten from last year. So it would seem one of the year’s most acclaimed movies was snubbed in favor of … nothing. Ouch. But “Drive” seems like too much of a weird, arty genre outsider to get a nod from Oscar.

Thankfully, “Drive” doesn’t need the potential for gold statues to boost its cred, as it’s already gained a fanatical following from movie fans (when I stopped by Best Buy to pick it up, the racks containing it were almost empty). Excuse me, but I’ve gotta crank Kavinsky & Lovefoxxx’s “Nightcall” while I write the rest of this article.

Available on Blu-ray, DVD, and Amazon Instant

Speaking of Michael Mann, he produced a new flick that’s out this week, and his daughter, Ami Canaan Mann, took up the directing duties.  The title is ridiculous and intriguing all at once: “Texas Killing Fields.” Being a man who has a taste for Texas-fried genre fiction by guys like Joe R. Lansdale, this sounded like a yarn that could be right up my alley. I love sweaty, southwestern noir like “No Country for Old Men” and “The Killer Inside Me,” and “Texas Killing Fields” promised some solid talent, including Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Chloe Grace-Moretz, and Jessica Chastain, who had the best year of any actress in 2011 (Sam Worthington’s in there too, but he ain’t really a “draw” for me). Shame what they served up was just a bland, boring mess.

“Texas Killing Fields” is about as dull as murder mysteries get, it’s characters are burdened by cliche, and the story lacks focus, and happens to be devoid of meaning to boot. A hothead small-town cop (Worthington) is paired up with an emotional detective from New York (Morgan) to solve a string of murders, and a bunch of stuff you won’t care about happens in the meantime. You know the drill, crime scenes procedurals, cliched cop dialogue, it all adds up to something you’ve seen done better a gazillion times before elsewhere.

It could only help the film if it could be called “formulaic,” because at least formula means it would at least hit the proper beats. Instead it’s a ball slow, muddy sludge, with fruitless subplots and a boring mystery. The story might not be such a drag if Mann’s direction added any flavor, but it just lies there on the screen like a dead fish. I would say it’s “television quality” direction, but doing so would be unfairly dismissive of the far more satisfying work in the genre that we see on TV every day.

It’s wildly disappointing when such a talented cast and crew cooks up a big fat nothing-burger like “Texas Killing Fields.” Even the most brilliant talents squeeze out the occasional turd, they are human after all. This is one of those movies that you might come across flipping through the NetFlix Instant Queue one night after you’ve had a few too many beers which might arouse your curiosity, but trust me, hombre, just keep flipping until you find something else.

Available on Blu-ray and DVD

Other Noteworthy Releases

Transformers – Dark of the Moon 3D: Michael Bay’s celebration of boys & their toys finally comes to 3D home video. I sort of admire Bay for making something as unapologetically vapid as this movie is, it’s pretty much a Bay’s trademarks blasted straight at your face without any hint of pretensions towards character and coherent storytelling. You can also grab the entire series in a deluxe box set, which should make for a remarkable tool if you’re into marathon S&M sessions.

Available on 3D Blu-ray

Star Trek – The Next Generation – The Next Level: I loved the Blu-ray releases that were put together of the original series, and it looks like they’re doing something similar with “The Next Generation”, offering re-created effects for high-definition. This three-episode set is a taste of what the full season sets will offer, serving three episodes that have been given the hi-def treatment: “Encounter at Farpoint,” “Sins of the Father” and “The Inner Light.” The beauty of what they did with the original series was they offered you a choice: you could watch it with the old effects, or the flashy CGI stuff, whatever floats your boat. Hear that, George Lucas? Choice. We like that. This release comes at an affordable price, but it’s a release for the impatient. If you’re gonna buy the whole shebang anyway, save your money and wait for the real deal.

Available on Blu-ray

In Time: Andrew Niccol’s stuff hasn’t ever really scratched my sci-fi itch, though “Gattaca” was pretty sweet. I love how Harlan Ellison sued the makers of this film for ripping off “Repent, Harlequin! Said the Ticktockman”, only to drop his lawsuit once he saw the film. I guess he only likes to take credit for stuff that’s good.

Available on Blu-ray, DVD, and Amazon Instant

The Thing: Back when I would gobble up any horror film I could get my hands on, curiosity would’ve been a good enough motivator to see this one. It doesn’t seem like it’s sure whether it’s a prequel or a remake, so I’ll just stick with the John Carpenter one, thanks. Also, the Christian Nyby/Howard Hawks classic is pretty swell too.

Available on Blu-ray, DVD, and Amazon Instant

The Big Year: A film starring Steve Martin, Jack Black, and Owen Wilson about bird watching … which bombed badly at the box office. Given that my Father is an avid birder, I’ll be watching this one with him for kicks some day soon.

Available on Blu-ray, DVD, and Amazon Instant

Dream House: Another bomb, this Jim Sheridan film starring Daniel Craig looks like a script someone dug out of M. Night Shyamalan’s garbage can. A sure sign a movie needs to make some fast cash after a bad box office draw: it’s available for rental on Amazon Instant the day it comes out, instead of making you purchase it for streaming. Not a rule, but it’s interesting how duds often come out of the gate accepting rentals there.

Available on Blu-ray, DVD, and Amazon Instant

The Double: In case you were wondering what Richard Gere is up to.

Available on Blu-ray, DVD, and Amazon Instant

Outrage – Way of the Yakuza: A new Takeshi Kitano film?!  Sign me up!  Ever since I saw him terrorize high schoolers in “Battle Royale”, I’ve been a fan.

Available on Blu-ray and DVD

The Magnificent Ambersons: Orson Welles’s half-masterpiece finally gets a stand-alone DVD release.

Available on DVD

Blubberella: I just wanted to point out that this exists. Of course, Uwe Boll is involved. Note how the titular character is firing off machine guns while gripping the clips in the cover art. Just sayin’.

Available on DVD

To Kill a Mockingbird: Man, it’s been a long time since I’ve watched this. Time to give it another look now that it’s got a Blu-ray dip coming out.

Available on Blu-ray, DVD and Amazon Instant

Adaptation: The best Charlie Kaufman creation, “Adaptation” is as brilliantly meta as it gets.  Nic Cage haters need to remember that the man is great when he’s in the right movie.  This one, “Moonstruck,” “Wild at Heart,” “Raising Arizona,” “Leaving Las Vegas”… recognize.

Available on Blu-ray

Shakespeare in Love: It’s Oscar season, so a bunch of movies that got a bunch of wins/nominations are getting Blu-ray dips. I couldn’t ever muster up the will to force myself to watch this movie. Now that it’s on Blu-ray, I’m not shocked I still don’t care.

Available on Blu-ray

The English Patient: Anthony Minghella’s middle name was “Oscar” during his career. Another one of his movies, “Cold Mountain,” also comes to Blu-ray this week.

Available on Blu-ray

The Piano: When I think of tortured female-driven dramas, I think of Jane Campion’s “The Piano” starring Holly Hunter and Harvey Keitel’s penis.

Available on Blu-ray

Frida: Being an admirer of Diego Rivera’s murals, I really enjoyed Julie Taymor’s biopic on his wife, Frida Kahlo, which covers her career, and their tempestuous relationship. Taymor’s such a visually-driven director that this Blu-ray release should look fantastic.

Available on Blu-ray

Malcolm X: He may have blocked my mouthy self on Twitter (hey, shameless plug time, follow me because you love me), but I do enjoy me some Spike Lee movies when he hits the right notes. “Malcolm X” is one of those times where he knocked it out of the park.

Available on Blu-ray

This article originally appeared over at Parcbench

But with Bialek’s tale of how Cain allegedly came on to her years earlier coming to light, celebrities have a new reason to smite him. A gaggle of famous folks rushed to Twitter this week to share 140 characters worth of disdain for Cain:

Bette Midler:
“Herman Cain was never vetted About the women he had petted Will all accusers form a line? We have to stop at 999.”

Warren Leight, Showrunner for Law and Order: SVU:
“Memo: to Herman Cain/ From SVU Writers Room: This is the moment in the story when your lawyer should ask about cutting a deal.”

Joy Behar:
“Next Godfather’s Pizza promotion: if Herman Cain doesn’t harass you within 30 minutes, your pizza is free”

Holly Robinson Peete:
“NOBODY is happier than Herman Cain that the #conradmurray trial verdict is in…time to get his story tight. How do u think he will respond?”

Steve Martin:
“Just realized that Herman Cain is an anagram for Reachin’ man.”

Conan O’Brien:
“With all this negative attention on Herman Cain right now, I’ll bet Little Caesar is grabbing boobs like there’s no tomorrow.”

Perhaps the only celebrity of note rallying to Cain’s side of late is Clint Eastwood, who called Cain’s life story inspiring and applauded his straight-talk approach.

EARLY REVIEWS OF SPIELBERG/JACKSON ‘TINTIN’ SUMMED UP

From my read, this line best sums up the ‘Tintin’ reviews that are just now rolling in: …”perfectly decent animated adventure, comparable to the better output of DreamWorks if perhaps not Pixar.”

I can wait.

ZACHARY QUINTO IS GAY

Please register your indifference to:

The Department of Not Giving a Damn
PO Box: Nobody Cares
You’re Boring, ME 90210

The best news is that Quinto will now lecture us about bullying:

when i found out that jamey rodemeyer killed himself – i felt deeply troubled.  but when i found out that jamey rodemeyer had made an it gets better video only months before taking his own life – i felt indescribable despair - i also made an it gets better video last year – in the wake of the senseless and tragic gay teen suicides that were sweeping the nation at the time.  but in light of jamey’s death – it became clear to me in an instant that living a gay life without publicly acknowledging it – is simply not enough to make any significant contribution to the immense work that lies ahead on the road to complete equality

Cuz it’s all about you, and the SHIFT is just to the left of the letter “z.”

Thankfully, Quinto has also pledged to  now “live an authentic life of compassion and integrity and action,” so with any luck that will soon be adapted into a very special coffee table book.

HOLLYWOOD NEEDS TO RERELEASE MORE FILMS

Agreed.

After the incredible success of the “Lion King’s” re-release, AICN’s Quint argues Hollywood should do the same with any number of movies, especially now that digital projection makes this possible without having to invest in a bunch of new expensive prints.

Think about this: Would a re-release of John Carpenter’s ‘The Thing’ and the original ‘Footloose’ have fared any worse than the prequel/remakes that bombed over the weekend?

What movies would you like to see return to the big screen?

Fortunately for me, after living in Los Angeles for nearly nine years, my top five ended up being fulfilled: ‘Ben-Hur,’ ‘Spartacus,’ ‘The Ten Commandments,’ ‘Lawrence of Arabia,’ and ‘Dr. Zhivago.’ And let me tell you, even though I had seen them dozens of times on DVD, the experience of seeing those films on the big screen was everything I hoped it would be. Even smaller films not filmed in widescreen like ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ and ‘An American In Paris’ popped to life thanks to the theatrical experience.

What would you like to see receive a national theatrical re-release?

‘THOR’  AND ‘STAR WARS’ SURGE BLU-RAY SALES

From a press release emailed to me last week:

Strong sales of “Thor” and the “Star Wars” saga on Blu-ray Disc(BD) prompted a 156 percent surge in U.S. sales of the format in the release week ending September 18, possibly pointing to brighter days ahead for the overall market for movies on disc, accordingto the new IHS report “Star Wars Shines in its BD Debut,” from information and analysis provider IHS (NYSE: IHS).

That triple-digit year-over-year-growth caps a period in which U.S. BD sales already were starting to post the kind of robust growth rates the new format’s backers had hoped for following its 2006 launch.

COMEDY WITH STEVE MARTIN, JACK BLACK, AND OWEN WILSON FLOPS

When you have stars of that caliber in a comedy and your film only grosses $3.2  million,  people need to be fired. Moreover, ‘The Big Year’ was directed by David Frankel, who helmed the monster hits ‘The Devil Wears Prada’ and ‘Marley and Me.’

Heads need to roll. Many of them. Down a flight of stairs and onto the 101 Freeway during rush hour.

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SCOTTDS’ EPIC LINK-TACULAR

RIP: TOP HOLLYWOOD AGENT SUE MENGERS DIES

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANGELA LANSBURY

ANDREW KLAVAN TO ADDRESS WEDGWOOD CIRCLE

‘SYBIL’ WAS A SCAM?

SCREEN RANT REVIEWS ‘WALKING DEAD’

FIVE CLASSIC PAULINE KAEL REVIEWS

IT’S LEO VS. LEO THIS CHRISTMAS

NOT NEWS: ‘AVENGERS’ PRODUCER HINTS AT SEQUEL AT NEW YORK COMIC-CON

AUDIO SAMPLES OF JOHN WILLIAMS’ ‘TINTIN’ SCORE

SIMON COWELL’S PANIC CALL TO NEWSPAPER COLUMNIST

‘PARANORMAL ACTIVITY 3′ REVIEW

FILMING BEGINS ON ROB ZOMBIE’S ‘THE LORDS OF SALEM’

‘LET ME IN,’ ‘CLOVERFIELD’ DIRECTOR LANDS ‘TWILIGHT ZONE‘

‘THE WALKING DEAD’ PANEL & GALE ANNE HURD SPEAKS!

24 BEST AND WORST REMAKES

TOP 10 MOST DOWNLOADED MOVIES OF ALL-TIME

YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO SEE: A LOOK AT DONNY BONADUCE’S CRIB

AWESOME ‘PUSS IN BOOTS’ POSTER

AWWWW…

SUPERCUT OF ANTI-DRUG PSAS IN 80S AND 90S SITCOMS

SHAWN LEVY TO DIRECT ‘PINOCCHIO’ PREQUEL

GREAT BLU-RAY DEALS: ‘SOUND OF MUSIC’ AND PEANUTS

SOMEONE HOPES ‘GREEN LANTERN 2′ WILL HAPPEN

‘TOP GUN 2′ CLOSER TO REALITY

LINDSAY LOHAN SERIOUS ABOUT COMPLETING HER PROBATION

WHO GAVE US SCARLETT JOHANSSON NAKED? FBI SAYS CHRISTOPHER CHANEY

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LAST NIGHT’S SCREENING

The King’s Speech (2010): What a marvelous film and one that might play even better in the intimacy of your living room than on the big screen. And it’s also a pretty conservative movie, especially in the department of theme. You would expect the hedonistic brother who gives up his duty as king for “true love” to be the hero of the story. Instead, he’s portrayed as selfish, petulant and irresponsible while the rather bland brother who believes in serving his country is the hero.

Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush are marvelous together, but I have to say that Helena Bonham Carter is a very special actress and too often overlooked. She’s beautiful, always interesting, and has a marvelous range.  What a shame it would be for the Academy to fail to recognize her someday.

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CLASSIC PICK FOR TUESDAY, OCTOBER 18

FMC:

2pm EST: SNAKE PIT, THE –While in a mental institution, a young woman (Olivia De Havilland) learns the reasons for her neuroses from a brilliant doctor (Leo Genn). Cast: Olivia De havilland, Celeste Holm, Mark Stevens, Leif Erickson, Leo Genn. Director: Anatole Litvak.

A class in how to make an “important” piece of Oscar-bait that isn’t pretentious or preachy. And I must say in all fairness that ”The King’s Speech” is as well.   

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--Please send tips/suggestions/requests/complaints to jnolte@breitbart.com

And when they leave the theater they won’t know much more about the wonderful world of birds.

‘The Big Year’ illustrates the pitfalls of being a “birder” – the sudden travel, the pricey hotel fees and the risk of alienating the ones you love. But where’s the joy, the sense that we’re watching nature’s handiwork up close and personal?

We’re left with a trio of comic actors rummaging for narrative scraps, let alone enough laugh lines to justify their respective paychecks.

‘Year’ casts Steve Martin, Owen Wilson and Jack Black as three very different men united in their love of birding. Ken Bostick (Wilson) is the reigning Big Year champion, meaning he personally spotted 732 bird species over a 12-month span. Now, he wants to break his own record, even if it means spending weeks away from his frustrated wife (the luminous Rosamund Pike).

Stu Preissler (Martin) has everything a man could want – a loving wife (Jobeth Williams), beautiful children and a thriving business. But he’s willing to set them all aside to complete his own Big Year.

And then there’s Brad Harris (Black), an IT shlub who listens to bird calls on his iPod at work. He thinks winning the Big Year competition will prove his self worth, much to the dismay of his grumpy dad (Brian Dennehy).

The three repeatedly bump into each other on their mad dash to spot as many bird species as possible, a competition ruled by the honor system. That concept itself sets ‘The Big Year’ apart from other male-bonding comedies. But there’s little about ‘Year’ that bothers to peer beyond the surface.

Director David Frankel, who had far better success with the animal-centric ‘Marley & Me,’ fails to capture the warmth and vitality of birding. And the script can’t decide if Ken is a cad or a clown, robbing the film of a potentially intriguing villain. Ken’s wife desperately wants a baby, but Ken seems more interested in migration patterns than painting the nursery. Yet Ken refuses to cheat in order to retain his title.

Wilson proves a poor choice for a role crying out for clarity. He’s in slacker mode, again, a scruffy chap you can’t stay mad at for long.

Black, in comparison, can bring an outsider’s point of view to an iconoclast like Brad, someone who thrives on the poetry of a bird in flight. But his character remains just out of focus, particularly when he’s trying to woo a fellow birder (Rashida Jones).

‘Year’ squanders not just its lead but a gaggle of ripe supporting players. Blink and you’ll miss Jones, Steven Weber, Kevin Pollack and ‘Community’s’ Joel McHale.

‘The Big Year’ lacks purpose as well as laughs. It’s far too bland to be a straight character study, and the film’s talents aren’t tapped for any comic set pieces of consequence. Couldn’t Martin have attempted one signature pratfall to break up the monotony?

Based on Mark Obmascik’s 2004 nonfiction book ‘The Big Year: A Tale of Man, Nature, and Fowl Obsession,’ this ‘Year’ ends on a note that essentially tells us birding is, well, for the birds if it means losing the ones you love.

Audiences should walk out of ‘The Big Year’ eager to scour their neighborhoods for bird species they never gave a second thought to before. Instead, they’ll likely wonder what the fuss is all about.

Besides, that was then and this is now. In this time of excruciatingly mediocre talent, where the line between reality show contestants and some of our entertainment superstars is…ummm…blurred, Steve Martin’s talent is proof one need not settle for second best. In Hollywood, the worlds most famous, over-crowded town of wannabe-wannabe’s (yes, the bar has been lowered that much), he’s the real deal and more.

Not only is he one of America’s most famous comics, who actually happens to be LOL funny, Steve Martin is an accomplished actor, a successful writer and a talented musician. Some of his accolades include: an Emmy, four Grammy’s and a Disney Legend Award. He was awarded the 2005 Kennedy Center’s Mark Twain Prize for American Humor and he is one of the Kennedy Center’s 2007 Honors recipients.

As if that weren’t enough, he also happens to be one serious art collector. I found out about this side of him, around twenty years ago, at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. There was an exhibit of contemporary art and I came across this fantastic, representational abstract. The painting was by Neil Jenney, an artist I was unfamiliar with at the time, and it was on loan from the collection of a Mr. Steve Martin. I wondered if it was the “Steve Martin?” It was.

His latest novel: “An Object of Beauty,” reflects his passion and knowledge of the art world, and that brings us to this: On Nov. 29, 2010, Mr. Martin was at the 92nd Street Y in New York City to promote “An Object of Beauty,” when something rare happened; he disappointed.

Apparently, he thought it appropriate to talk about the novel and the art world it was about, without so much as putting on that gimmicky arrow-thru-the-head thing. About a half hour into the talk, a note was slipped to the host, Deborah Solomon, informing her that they were receiving emails from the closed-circuit television viewers…they were not amused. When she read the note out loud, the audience came to life and cheered. The Y wasted very little time and voluntarily offered to refund the evenings tickets with same-price-as-paid gift certificates to future events.

Personally, next to a roomful of full-of-themselves progressives, few things can ruin an evening more then some insecure comic, constantly interrupting whatever is going on at the moment, with nervous attempts at humor. Clearly, that is not a problem for Mr. Martin and that makes me like him that much more. Not an easy thing to do, when I consider that he co-wrote and starred in “The Jerk,” one of the funniest movies ever.

To his comic credit, Mr. Martin pointed out: “As for the Y’s standard of excellence, it can’t be that high because this is the second time I’ve appeared there.” Channeling a little Groucho Marx…perfect.

So, let’s see: he’s an award winning comedian, actor, novelist, playwright, producer, musician, composer, business man, art collector and, a pretty decent guy.

Yeah…Steve Martin: Renaissance Man…works for me. Let’s show a little more respect.

The Academy Awards show has a fine tradition of pampered celebrities popping off with something stupid when they hit the stage.  It must be something about TV cameras and the opportunity to make damn fools of themselves before tens of millions of people around the world that the Hollywoodoids find irresistible.  Notice how you never hear any fallout from the “technical awards” ceremony?  You know, the non televised ceremony recognizing the boring technological stuff that actually makes movies possible that is usually held at the Beverly Hills Elks Lodge with hosts Steve Guttenberg, Charo and/or one of the lesser Sweathogs.

Some of the past magic moments are legendary.  Remember back in 1993, when Tim Robbins and his then-gal pal, tranny vomit insanity enthusiast Susan Sarandon, harangued the crowd about the detention of Haitian refugees?  Of course, right after that these stars led the way by opening up the grounds of their mansion to these huddled Haitian masses.

Roberto Benigni engaged in memorably tiresome antics after winning “Best Foreign Language Film of 1997” for the Worst Film of All Time, the insanely appalling Life Is Beautiful.  Life has certainly aged well, and Benigni’s shtick has only gotten fresher, contributing to the runaway freight train of success that his career has become since then.

Another highlight was the 1973 appearance of Indian activist Sacheen Littlefeather to accept Marlon Brando’s Oscar for The Godfather.  Of course, after that powerful indictment of American society, things began to change.  Her earnest speech was the inspiration behind the movement to allow Native Americans to reject reservation socialism, to fully embrace the free market model, and to find prosperity delivering quality entertainment, gaming and vacation opportunities to their fellow Americans.  Or so I’ve heard.  Little known fact:  She convinced Brando to let her accept the award by offering him a muffin.

Occasionally the real people who actually make movies happen – the teamsters, the grips, and the other hardscrabble folks behind the scenes – will make their presence known during a particularly stupid speech.  For example, back in 2003, Michael Moore decided to use his win to spout off as America headed to war in Iraq.  Running down our country in front of a teamster?  Bad, bad idea.   The thunderous booing of these all-American Joes and Janes humiliated the clown who fancies himself their voice – not that he’d be caught dead within a dozen miles of blue collar Americans.  It also led to Steve Martin’s joke about Big Mikey being helped into his limo’s trunk – a zinger on a couple levels.  Moore was lucky to get out of there without an Oscar suppository.

So who is going to spout off this year?  Oh, the competition is fierce.

Let’s look at the Best Picture nominees.  There’s what – 37 of them this year?  So many opportunities to say something dumb.  

The Blind Side and Up are positive pictures with important messages of hope, so we don’t need to bother with thinking about what happens if they win because they won’t.  A Serious Man takes religion kind of seriously; count that out too.

The same with District 9, though if it does sneak through – remember 3-6 Mafia – then expect the producers to repeat, in an indecipherable Boer accent, its profound message that apartheid of intergalactic crustaceans is very, very bad.

Up In The Air is a movie about (among other things) the trauma of losing your livelihood.  Don’t hold your breath for an unflattering reference to the current Administration’s campaign of employment extermination.  At best, watch for an “It’s still all Bush’s fault!” sideswipe if George Clooney takes Best Actor.

The same is true of the urban nightmare Precious.  As we know, the ghetto was a fairytale wonderland before the BusHitler contingent came in and ruined it.

A win for An Education, a tale of a teenage girl having sex with an adult, is the perfect moment for a shout-out of solidarity with Roman Polanski – who, after all, is the real victim.   

If Inglorious Basterds wins, look for lots of log-rolling about how brave the Academy was to choose it, with its graphic violence, interminable stretches of over-praised dialogue and coherence-optional story line.  The courageous ballot-casters of Hollywood are the real heroes.  And heaven forbid chatty Quentin Tarantino win as Best Director.  First, he’s an overpraised hack.  Second, his speech will take 20 minutes out of our lives that we’ll never get back.

You’ll hear plenty about how the producers “support” our soldiers if The Hurt Locker pulls off Best Picture.  It would be nice to hear some support for servicemembers not just as tragic victims but for their performance in winning the war they found (and still find) important enough to volunteer to go off and risk their lives fighting.  In the off chance that someone, somehow should utter the word “victory,” watch the entire proceedings come to a flying stop.

If Kathryn Bigelow becomes the first woman to win Best Director, expect lots of talk of glass ceilings, breaking barriers and “the pioneers who came before me.”  That’s all okay – she really is a trailblazer, you know, kind of like Sarah Palin.  Nice to see Hollywood finally catching up with the Republican Party on gender diversity.

Now, if Jeremy Renner wins Best Actor for The Hurt Locker, I expect nothing but class.  This is a guy who seems to have worked hard, perfected his craft, and finally caught a break.  In interviews he seems not entitled but – gasp! – grateful, and he always gives credit to others like Anthony Mackie, his co-star who was freakin’ robbed of a Best Supporting Actor nomination.

Similarly, if Sandra Bullock wins for her role as a decent human being – for many other actors, this is a huge stretch – I expect a classy speech.  The same is true about Meryl Streep and the rest of the Best Actress contenders.  However, in the Best Supporting Actor category, we might have some awesome opportunities for inanity. 

Matt Damon is nominated and he’s sure to pick up Tim Robbins’ Torch O’ Stupidity and carry it aloft.  There’s health care reform, climate change and, of course, supporting the troops but not the war – it’s a cornucopia of topics upon which he can offer the full benefit of his inexperience.

Woody Harrelson plays a soldier, so should he win, look for some “We support the soldiers but not the war” nonsense – assuming he moderates his pre-ceremony bong hit intake enough to find the stage.

And then there’s Avatar, the bête noir of Big Hollywood.  Will we see James Cameron issue a humble statement of regret that its giddy depiction of American soldiers being slaughtered was misconstrued?  Doubtful, since it hasn’t been misconstrued.  Cameron’s petty god complex has been in full effect for a couple of decades now, so don’t look for humility.  More likely, if the King of the World wins we’ll see shrill crowing about his come-from-behind triumph over the unnamed “critics” who refuse to suspend their disbelief and love of country and embrace the magic that is his masterpiece, Space Fahrenheit-Pocahontas 9/11.  

And, no matter what, to the extent it comes up, he’ll “support” the troops.  They always support the troops.  Just not anything the troops actually do.

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But America’s abundance does not apply to movies about Thanksgiving.  Certainly some exist, but if you review a list of movies about Thanksgiving, the sad fact is that there are very few good ones.  Many are PC retellings of the original Thanksgiving story – one guess as to who the villains are (Hint:  It’s the dudes with buckles on their hats).  Others are tiresome melodramas about “quirky” families that reaffirm their bonds over plates of turkey, with “quirky” — meaning “annoying.” 

There simply is not a worthy list of Top Movies about Thanksgiving to be made, but there is a solid list of Eight Great Movies for Thanksgiving.  These are films that embody, in some way, what Thanksgiving really means.  You are free to disagree with the choices – as some Marines recently did regarding another list – but the freedom to think for yourself is but one of many things to be thankful for.  Maybe these movies don’t all feature turkey and trimmings – though a couple of them do – but you can’t go wrong with them this Thanksgiving Day:

1.   A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving:  No, this is not a movie.  So sue me.  Anyone who grew up in the 70’s or 80’s remembers this classic cartoon version of Charlie Brown and the Peanuts gang’s turkey day.  But this is not just for kids.  One of the interesting things about Charles Schultz’s kid characters is how utterly mercenary and oblivious they can be, latching onto the crassest materialism and taking what they have completely for granted.  Their behavior is really awful – much like the behavior of many adults.  But leave it to good ole Charlie Brown and his quietly intelligent pal Linus to get them to focus on what’s important.  There is a reason that, even today, every kid my kids have a play date with has a DVD of this treasure on the shelf between the Dora the Explorer and the Robo-transmorphatron adventures.

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2.  Bolt:  You know, Disney sure comes in for a lot of grief – some of it deserved – but this animated story of a little girl and her loyal dog is fantastic on every level.  It’s a technical marvel – the visuals are stunning.  But it’s more than that.  The ending is a powerful evocation of a family learning to appreciate what is important.  Throughout, it’s sad, funny, and stirring, plus it carries a powerful message about bravery and sacrifice.  When Bolt refuses to leave his little girl as a building burns around them, all I could think of is how great it was to finally see a movie that honors courage without turning it into some sort of ironic joke.

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3.  The Wizard of Oz:  This is a Thanksgiving perennial on those non-communist Ted Turner networks.  This vivid fantasy is celebrating its 70th anniversary this year and still kicks butt over just about everything that’s been released since.  You can even see its cultural impact in the Avatar trailer, where the grizzled Marine commander announces to his troops: “You’re not in Kansas anymore.”  There are flying monkeys, melting witches, dwarfs and/or midgets – plus a wonderful lesson about being thankful for what you have been given.   What more could you want?

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4.  The Shawshank Redemption:  This grim prison drama is included for one reason – the scene where the clever Tim Robbins makes a deal with the guards to do a hot, dirty job for them and ends up enjoying a bucket of cold Cokes on the roof with Morgan Freeman and their pals.  That scene provides some useful perspective about the meaning and value of material goods, enjoying the fruits of one’s labors, and the importance of freedom.

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5.  The Sound of Music:  Yeah, it’s a little on the sugary side.  And yeah, I have a beef with it because it gave my mother the bright idea to inflict the first name of one of the lederhosen-clad yodelers upon me.  But this is a true family film in every sense of the word – it both celebrates family and you can safely watch it with your family without having to worry that you’ll end up having to explain some manner of perversion to your five-year old.  The widower Baron von Trapp falls for the beautiful governess he hires to wrangle his Teutonic task force during the first two thirds of the film.  The last act focuses on their attempt to flee Austria after the Nazis decide to “invite” the Baron to take a commission in the German navy.  Christopher Plummer’s righteous anger as he tears down a swastika flag will thrill anyone with a love of freedom, and his composure as he faces down the young brownshirt is awesome.  The von Trapps do, of course, escape (though not necessarily to “Climb Every Mountain”) and in reality they ended up in America.  We can all be thankful that we are lucky enough to live in the place where the world’s oppressed want to be.

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6.  Mr. Smith Goes to Washington:  We can be thankful both for a government where, despite all the corruption and cronyism, our voices will eventually be heard.  And we can be thankful for men like Jimmy Stewart, not only a great actor but a veteran who flew perilous bomber missions over Germany when he could have safely flown a desk.

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7.  Blackhawk Down:  Why list a war movie on a list of Thanksgiving films?  Because we should all be damn thankful that we have men (and women) out there like the Americans who fought it out against overwhelming odds in Mogadishu in October 1993.  The fierce loyalty those troops showed, braving incredible odds to rescue their comrades from the Somali militia hordes, should give us pause to reflect on the price of the great material and spiritual bounty our nation enjoys.  America didn’t just happen – it was earned.  Today, tens of thousands of Americans are overseas continuing to earn it this Thanksgiving.  And if you are so inclined, you might want to say “Thanks” with a donation to The Wounded Warrior Project.

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8.  Planes, Trains and Automobiles:  The best John Hughes “adult” movie, and possibly his best movie overall.  Steve Martin is the uptight businessman trapped in a hilarious odyssey of misfortunes with John Candy’s lovable slob as he desperately tries to make it home to his family for Thanksgiving.  It’s funny.  It’s really, really funny, as literally everything that can go wrong goes astonishingly wrong.  Cars catch fire, wallets are stolen, deer are resurrected and buns are mistaken for pillows.  But beneath it all is the kind of heart missing from so much of the soulless, cookie-cutter dreck that passes for comedy today.  The ending truly sums up the spirit of Thanksgiving and highlights the kind of generosity of spirit that comes naturally to most Americans.  And there is another thing to be thankful for – the joy that John Candy brought to all of us during his far too short life.

This year, I’m particularly thankful to be in the USA for Thanksgiving.  Whether you are home with your loved ones, or serving our country overseas, Happy Thanksgiving.

Natalie, whoever’s advising you … fire them. If no one’s advising you, find someone who doesn’t carry a small dog in their purse or dates someone who does. Look to the real world for help. Look to someone who’s spent a few years in a land where the zip codes don’t start with “9-0.” Someone who cares enough about you and your career to say (without any “Honey, babys”):

“Nat, past the gates of your community and away from the hills of Hollywood losing your job doesn’t fuel passion, it fuels despair, and working a job you hate is almost as bad because of the big black  permanent ball of dread it plants in your gut. I know you dig Barack, I did too before he targeted my children and health care, but you can’t flak for his recession. That’s what the mainstream media is for. You have to empathize with your audience, build goodwill. Besides, you’re closing on that castle tomorrow, so today wouldn’t be a good time to get all gushy over how exciting Barack’s recession is. And if you do, I quit.”

Now I don’t mean to pick on Natalie (much), but this goes to a larger problem facing both Hollywood and those of us who love movies: The death of the movie star.

One of the big entertainment stories this year is how well starless films like “Star Trek,” “Up,” “The Hangover,” and “District 9” did while Johnny Depp, Christian Bale, Denzel Washington, Julia Roberts, John Travolta, Jack Black, Eddie Murphy, Leonardo DiCaprio, Russell Crowe, Will Ferrell, Jamie Foxx, Steve Martin, Robert Downey Jr., etc… fizzled in blockbusters and mainstream films aimed at a wide audience.

Once upon a time stars worked as a kind of insurance. No matter how good or bad the product, a strong opening weekend or two was assured followed by home video sales that pretty much guaranteed the film would at least break even. Once upon a time people wanted to see a INSERT NAME HERE movie.

No more.

Some will float excuses like the “Twitter Effect,” but that doesn’t explain crashing DVD sales or historically low ratings for the Academy Awards’ telecast. Spin it any way you want, thanks to a decade-plus of arrogant unforced errors and self-inflicted stupidity, we are no longer enamored with … The Movie Star.

The problem isn’t each individual star – who doesn’t love them some Denzel? – the problem is those damaging the brand as a whole. Airheads and insulting big mouths like Portman, Julia Roberts, George Clooney, Alec Baldwin, Streisand, Matt Damon, Sean Penn, Susan Sarandon, Tim Robbins…

Year after year after year the bad apples have so soured so many of us that we no longer look at the name above the title. We don’t care who’s in it. Instead it’s, “What’s the concept, is it safe or familiar?”

In other words, “I’d rather have my intelligence insulted than who I am or what I believe in.”

For those of us in love with the movies, this is an awful trend. We love being in love with movie stars. And we don’t care how they vote or live their lives… There were all kinds of liberal stars during the Golden Age who supported all kinds of causes. No one cared. I don’t care now.

The difference between John Garfield and Sean Penn isn’t talent or politics … it’s a little thing called “class.”

Just shut up and be awesome.

This is, perhaps, one of the most interesting things about human beings: Our unique capacity for deception. Not the deception of others. Most animals are capable of that sort of deceit. No, it is the ability of man to deceive himself that is so remarkable, and not just the ability, but the proclivity to do it. Like Steve Martin’s character in the film, man seems ever determined to create his own definition of himself based not so much on what he is, but on what he would like to be. This self-image certainly has some effect on what a person does, but strangely, it almost never changes or constrains what they actually are. Despite his efforts to be what he believes himself to be, what he is almost always dominates him. The inner-white-man always emerges if you will. While the human mind seems perfectly capable of believing two mutually exclusive things at the exact same time, it is perhaps only able to consistently act from one of them.

Examples of this inner-human conflict seem to be everywhere, and they manifest themselves in the culture all around us, obscuring our ability to perceive who we actually are. A man who elevates another man above the reach or criticisms of his peers through hero-worship or demagoguery is clearly acting from an intrinsic religious belief, but quite often the people who do this consider themselves to be the most secular atheists around. They aren’t, of course, any more than Steve Martin is black, but that fact seems perfectly lost on them because they believe their own lie about themselves over reality.

Likewise, most of the people who identify themselves as anti-establishment individualists are almost always the ones voting for more government intervention, more government control. They believe they are against ‘the man,’ but they almost never meet a problem they don’t think should be solved by, well, more ‘the man.’ People who claim to love the poor almost always favor policies that prevent the creation of wealth and jobs, the only two things that have ever consistently elevated men out of poverty. People who claim to be the most tolerant are almost always hostile to any opinion other than their own. People who believe themselves to be the most color blind and supportive of racial integration seem to be most in favor of holding people to different standards of accomplishment and conduct based on the color of their skin.

The list is endless, and it seems that the distinction between self-image and reality is never a subtle one. Rather, what a person believes about themselves is often so fundamentally at odds with who they naturally are that the person they see in the mirror may in fact be the antithesis of their true self. Perhaps self-image then is actually a defense against having to confront who we really are.

To the Christian, this concept is as old as time itself. God made Adam and provided him with all things, even access to Himself. Man literally wanted for nothing. All that God had created was his. Of course, this was not good enough for man. Rather than accept the beauty that he was who God made him to be, man sought instead to be what God was. “You will not die,” said the enemy, “you will be like Him.” Even though Adam knew God, knew his greatness, knew that he had made all things, provided all things, had power over all things, Adam yet believed himself to be God’s equal, or at least worthy to be. We all know how that one turned out: Not well. For the Christian, it is only when man makes recognition of who he actually is, and who he isn’t, that he can come to see the value of what God has done for him in Christ. Trying to be like God never worked.

And perhaps that is the lesson to be learned. Who we actually are may not be who we want to be, but lying to ourselves about it doesn’t change the fact. Instead, it blinds us to our own faults ensuring that we never deal with them, just ignore them. In “The Jerk,” Steve Martin, at the behest of a family that loves him, begins a journey to discover who he actually is, not because who he is is perfect, but because it’s him. He stumbles along the way, slams up against his own limitations and flaws, but in doing so, he is able to grow and change. In fact, he becomes more of who he desires to be when he stops pretending he isn’t who he is. It’s a rough and tumble ride; life always is. Let’s face it, there are people out there who just don’t like cans. But it is clearly the journey we were meant to take, and no true progress, individual or societal, is ever based on ignoring reality.

Our Founding Fathers were unique in that they knew their limitations. They didn’t subscribe to the lie that they and all of the rest of mankind were good, but rather took a firm look at the reality of their limitations and sought to create a form of government that considered and could respond to their flaws. It is a form of government that constrains man’s ambition, puts checks on his power over others, but that removes the constraints on man’s potential for growth and self-improvement, and self-betterment both philosophical and financial. It is a form of government that, as has been often said, unlocks the human potential in unimaginable ways, and creates an environment where one man pursuing his own interests can create waves that cause all of the ships on the ocean to rise with him. We ignore their wisdom and self-honesty, and our true nature, at our own risk, for self-governance and self-betterment are not possible for people who do not know themselves truly.

Looking back at The Karate Kid (1984), which turned twenty-five years old this week, a thought keeps recurring.

Wow. . . Avildsen made it work twice.

John G. Avildsen is, in some ways, a director of little distinction when compared with well-known marquee names like Spielberg, Scorsese, Nolan, and Tarantino. The vast majority of his movies are utterly forgotten by the average filmgoer — indeed, he’s been nominated for Worst Director at The Razzies three times. And yet, like Victor Fleming decades earlier with his twin successes The Wizard of Oz and Gone with the Wind (both 1939 — read a great recent article on Fleming here), Avildsen has twice punched way above his weight, netting himself an Oscar for Best Director and giving birth to some of the most memorable moments in motion picture history.

His first triumph, made on a shoestring budget and a scant few weeks of shooting time, was a little picture called Rocky (1976). He had no money, no stars, no amazing effects, and yet Avildsen used camera, music, and editing to craft scenes of immense power and impact. Has there ever been a film, before or since, that ends on a more rousing wave of uplift? That takes such pains to create identification and empathy with its wide array of characters? That more patiently or expertly builds up to its cataclysmic swell of emotion? That has the guts and sense of timing to fade to black at the exact peak, frustrating our desire to know what happens next even as it leaves us too blissful to care?

Rocky did all of that and much more, and despite its fight scenes now looking like slow-mo hokum compared to the MMA-style mayhem that now rules on TV, it remains the most memorable and effective boxing film ever made. That’s really saying something, given the immense amount of solid competition the genre boasts.

But as other directors began ineptly looting and mimicking Avildsen’s style and innovations, it looked as if everything that made Rocky great would quickly become so cliché as to make a repeat impossible. We all know that sinking feeling when we begin perceiving the clunky wheels of the typical “Hollywood sports plot” turning — that excruciatingly slow crawl towards the utterly predictable final showdown, where the very last seconds of a contest are shamelessly milked until the hero finally hits the last shot/punch/goal/basket. Even the Rocky sequels couldn’t escape these pitfalls, and it would be hard to blame an audience for glumly concluding that Avildsen’s 1976 artistic triumph had spoiled the sports movie for all time.

So who would have guessed that, eight years later, Avildsen would essentially pull off the same trick again? How on earth did he once again make a Rocky-style plot arc work, without the end result becoming a pale pastiche?

He achieved this feat in large part by turning everything we remember from Rocky on its head. Ralph Macchio’s Daniel Larusso is played not as a thickheaded lummox, but as a fast-thinking, bone-skinny teen whose nasal Jersey whine sounds more like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer than Sylvester Stallone. He’s neither a down-and-out fighter with his best years behind him, nor is he looking to “go the limit” to prove something profound to himself. He’s just a kid at the very beginning of his adult life, who for most of the film limits his ambition to simply not getting beat up. Similarly, Elizabeth Shue’s Ali Mills is light years away from Talia Shire’s Adrian Pennino: rich instead of poor, charming rather than an ugly duckling, sociable not shy. And Pat Morita’s unforgettable Mr. Miyagi isn’t washed up or pathetically ambitious like Burgess Meredith’s Mickey Goldmill — he’s the very epitome of contentment and balance and wisdom.

Rocky achieved its verisimilitude with generous dollops of grime, rust, blood and profanity, whereas The Karate Kid is notable for its relative wholesomeness (note how Elizabeth Shue even wears a one-piece swimsuit to the beach instead of the obligatory teen-movie bikini). The music marks yet another telling departure. Rocky’s iconic score, by Bill Conti, was a mix of 1970s funk, heroic brass, and a choir acting as a Greek chorus, all combined into a sonic brew that still ranks as one of the most recognizable and rousing in film history. For The Karate Kid, Conti was once again brought in as the composer. But this time, in between pop songs like Bananarama’s “Cruel Summer,” he chose a light mix of delicate strings, only occasionally allowing them to burst forth into full orchestral splendor. For the training montage, Conti completely eschews Rocky’s reliance on trumpeting brass and instead opts for the lonely skirling of Gheorghe Zamfir’s pan flute, creating a more spiritual and intimate vibe.

Avildsen’s camera, for its part, is probing and observant, often making excellent use of telephoto lenses to highlight what would otherwise be a missed reaction or expression. He achieves true poetry in the training scenes: on the beach among the circling cranes, on the lake amidst glittering golden waters, and even in the fights and strategies that pulse through the climactic tournament. He also warred with the studio when necessary to protect certain crucial scenes, such as the one where a drunken Miyagi reveals his service in WWII to Daniel. That one adds a whole new layer of depth to what was already a touching and authentic relationship, and yet the studio wanted it cut, deeming it superfluous.

On top of all that, the excellent screenplay by Robert Mark Kamen (who distinguished himself more recently by penning the immensely satisfying kidnap flick Taken) consistently leads Avildsen down novel paths. The teen villains of the story (portrayed by, among others, Steve McQueen’s son Chad and Elizabeth Shue’s brother Andrew) are refreshingly human, at times even gaining our sympathy. Unlike the usual faceless, gormless teens in Hollywood fare, this group is delineated exceedingly well, and remain recognizable as individuals even when hiding behind Ray Harryhausen-esque skeleton makeup in a genuinely chilling night scene. Kamen fleshed out his bad guys so well that the Cobra Kais, led outside the dojo by actor William Zabka’s smirking blond-haired bad boy Johnny Lawrence, now have a sizable fan following among Karate Kid aficionados. One admirer even made a clever YouTube re-edit of the final fight so that Johnny wins:

Meanwhile, a band called No More Kings has made a song about the redemption of Johnny called “Sweep the Leg,” with a fun “Karate Kid continuation” music video written and directed by Zabka himself:

In interviews, Zabka has expressed pleasant surprise that The Karate Kid remains so alive in the popular culture, calling it a “sacred film” and noting that there are even Cobra Kai bowling teams out there. It’s enough to convince me that The Karate Kid II should have been all about Miyagi reforming the Cobra Kais, slowly rehabilitating them into good guys.

In so many ways, Avildsen’s 1984 film is courageous in the way it deviates from the instantly recognizable Rocky formula. How strong must the pressure have been on Avildsen to make the easy, safe choices, mimicking his earlier masterpiece in every detail? His resistance to those impulses does him credit, and hence to dismiss The Karate Kid as a mere Rocky clone is to do it an injustice.

But if there is one overriding secret to the success of The Karate Kid, it is the transcendent performance of Pat Morita as Mr. Miyagi. In 1984, most Americans still conceived of the East, at least in cinematic terms, as a mystical wonderland of Kung-Fu magic and swordplay. Hong Kong directors like Jackie Chan, Sammo Hung, John Woo, Tsui Hark, and Ringo Lam were only beginning to create the explosion of masterful, modernized pictures that would eventually change the entire way the world looked at Asians on film. It’s hard to remember how utterly fresh a character like Mr. Miyagi was to 1984 audiences, completely unexposed as they were to the renaissance happening in Hong Kong. Fully fleshed out, with a compelling backstory and potent motivations, he was written as charmingly colloquial and disheveled, a character who could consistently shatter the stereotype of the “magic Asian” to raucously humorous effect.

Almost always in American cinema — to this day — Asian protagonists are depicted as cardboard caricatures at best and laughingstocks at worst. Avildsen rejected the initial front-runner for the part of Miyagi — the great Japanese actor Toshirô Mifune — and instead bet his entire film on the talents of a thoroughly Americanized stand-up comedian, one who in his salad days used to bill himself in comedy clubs as “the Hip Nip.” Comedians have a strangely robust record of shining in good dramatic roles — think Robin Williams, Bill Murray, Jim Carrey, Tom Hanks, Billy Crystal, Steve Martin, et al. — and they often manage to strike a solid balance between laughs and drama. Morita did exactly that in The Karate Kid: affecting just the right Japanese accent, leavening his character’s power and seriousness with just enough comedy, and always figuring out ways to make you laugh with Miyagi instead of at him.

If you haven’t seen The Karate Kid in awhile, you’re in for a treat — Mr. Miyagi was no fluke, he remains one of the most winning characters in the history of cinema. It was the role of a lifetime for Morita, who garnered a well-deserved Oscar nomination (as it happened, he lost that year to Haing S. Ngor in The Killing Fields, who himself became the first Asian to win an acting Oscar). Any number of others would have played Miyagi as either an embarrassing joke or an irremediably grim Samurai grandmaster. But in his every glare, mannerism, and pose, Morita elevates the character into a veritable Gandalf. Look closely at the scene when he bows gravely to a shocked Daniel (who has just discovered that his hated chores were actually important lessons), or when towards the end he smacks his hands together with such orchestra-enhanced thunder that the audience jumps. In those moments The Karate Kid — so often seen as an also-ran and afterthought to Rocky — breaks away from that film’s orbit and soars free all on its own.

So Avildsen pulled it off not once, but twice — I still can’t believe it. And if he never makes another great movie, he can still sit back and rest easy, secure in the knowledge that two of the very best fight pictures ever made have his name on them. That he did both of them on such low budgets should give hope to conservative filmmakers who assume liberal Hollywood will never give them a chance. There is nothing in The Karate Kid that couldn’t be accomplished on a micro-budget — all you would need is the gumption to dream up the script.

But will anyone take on the challenge, as Avildsen did those many years ago? Only time will tell. Until then: wax on, wax off. . . wax on, wax off. . . .