Moonstruck
(1987)
Recently a colleague and I were discussing the phenomenon of finding something at the top of your Netflix queue and having no recollection of having put it in the queue, or or why you would have. But she was talking about Moonstruck, which she had just seen for the first time and was still wondering why she'd bothered.
Well, golly!
She is young, but she has never shown any signs before of deficiency in intelligence or taste. I was so stunned I didn't even have a chance to question her about it--or to do much but stammer in confusion. So I can only chalk it up to aberration. 'Cause really: has there been, in the past half-century, in the past sixty years, even, a better romantic comedy--more beautifully written, with more good actors giving career-best performances, with better contributions of mood from location and interior looks? Not to mention the dogs! And the Darryl Strawberry poster in the bar! Damn near perfect--I don't even mind listening to Dean Martin and Vicki Carr a little!
And now, I just heard the news: join me in raising a glass to Paul Newman.
4 comments:
Youth.
Moonstruck is a wonderful, under-appreciated film: an over-the-top snapshot of Italian-American culture, a meditation on fidelity and infidelity, and the best role Olympia Dukakis (tragically underemployed, imho) has ever been allowed to play on film.
Nicholas Cage--well. Youth. But Cher and Dukakis make up for it.
Besides, we all need the "I don't wanna talk about it!" line every know and then.
I agree w/ everything you say, except that Nic's overacting is better employed here than ever before or since--and the best performance ever for Vincent Gardenia, and for Danny Aiello (also perfect overacting--if only for the first time he mentions Ronny, looks at his open hand, and cringes), and for my fellow Quincy College (now University) alumnus John Mahoney.
Vincent Gardenia and the plumbing explanation to the mistress--it is the source of one of our favorite lines: "You have such a head for knowing."
Yeah, that was a cadidate for the headline. But aside from the perfection of that scene, how the heck does a 100-minute or so film give such generous attention to Cosmo's affair, Rose's flirtation, Pop's dogwalking, even the ostensibly minor John Mahoney character's midlife crisis without ever losing focus on Johnny & Ronnie & Loretta? Alla famiglia!
(Have I mentioned that Mahoney is a fellow Quincy College alumnus?)
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