In Memoriam: Harold Ramis

Of all the different genres of film to create, I believe that comedies are the hardest to create. Humor has an ethereal quality that ebbs and flows as society changes. With that said, it's an amazing accomplishment to make a comedy film that is actually able to stand the test of time. Most comedians are lucky if they can perpetuate one joke, so no one could possibly mistake Harold Ramis's career as anything but pure skill and talent. Since the mid-1970s, Ramis had an immediate impact on popular culture. He was a member of the Second City comedy improv group that featured contemporaries like John Belushi, Bill Murray, and Gilda Radnor. Moving from the stages of Chicago, to the radio with National Lampoon's Radio Hour, to the small screen with the pre-SNL sketch show SCTV, Ramis's unique combination of subversive social class commentary and blue, dorm room sensibilities could not be contained. Ramis's talents belonged on the big screen, and his first screenplay credit, National Lampoon's Animal House proved it with flying colors (or food).

Whether he was acting on screen, wielding a pen, or behind the camera, his charm permeated the movies he made. I wouldn't be surprised to still here people quoting Caddyshack 30 years from now. Every new generation will be treated to Ghostbusters. It will continue to be hard to not visualize the Griswold family's ridiculous adventures when driving in the car 8 hours to your long-awaited or dreaded destination. One of the most amazing qualities of the 4 films I've mentioned so far is their ability to make people laugh of different ages, genders, and cultures. Humor is fleeting, and audiences are fickle. When the zany humor of the 80's gave way to the cynical, snark of the 90's, Ramis was right on the cusp with the coffee-black film Groundhog Day. He even tried to transition into the current generation of comedians with the lackluster Year One, which ultimately just dreamed too big.

It's unfortunate that Ramis had to die of a disease that was so debilitating. He had to learn how to walk again but was yet again forced back into a chair. Autoimmune inflammatory vasculitis kills your blood vessels through chronic inflammation, so it slowly took away his legs. One thing that disease could never take away was his ability to laugh and to make others laugh, which are equally important in the comedy business. For an example of how amazing of a career he had, I haven't even mentioned his roles in making Meatballs, Stripes, Analyze This, and Multiplicity. Even his lesser films like Bedazzled, The Ice Harvest, and Year One have good qualities that just couldn't make an great whole. Harold Ramis, you will be missed.

Hidden Gems: Michael Mann's Thief (1981)

Since I have some newly available time on my hands, I wanted to blow the dust off of this blog because I clearly can't get enough of my own voice. My plan is to break the blog down into several columns that feature different media within the realm of my favorite topic: popular culture.

Hidden Gems is a column that highlights films featuring famous directors, writers, or actors that may have fallen to the wayside by time or by unfavorable situations. That's not to say that any of the films in this column are masterpieces. No film is perfect. What would be the fun of that? Anyways, the first film featured in this column is Michael Mann's first studio feature film Thief.

Michael Mann's influence on American film is pervasive. From the minute Miami Vice hit network airwaves in 1984, many shows and films would copy its trademark, sun-soaked sheen, and its workman-like blend of action sequences with steamy locales all bolstered by a soundtrack pulsating with some of the most popular songs of the decade. However, Michael Mann really developed much of his signature style with 1981's Thief.

Right off the bat, the movie seems defined by its simplicity. The opening robbery sequence is vividly shot with only the slightest utterance of dialogue. There is a slight tension building as the robbery progresses through its blueprint-drawn stages, which almost work with the efficiency of a Rube Goldberg device. This 5 or so minute sequence sets the tone. These men care about their business, and they only truly feel comfortable in the heat of a heist.

The film follows Frank (James Caan) as he looks for a new life that will take him away from the inherent loneliness of being a career criminal. He wants everyone else's American Dream. That yearning leads him to develop a slapdash relationship with a waitress (Tuesday Weld), and in one of the movie's most telling sequences, Frank shares with her something he hasn't ever told a woman: his past and his career, both littered with violence and emotional distance. In fact, the only two people that Frank seems to care about are Okla, his criminal mentor, played by a sad, desperate Willie Nelson, and his mentee, a fresh-looking James Belushi.

Frank's ambition for the perfect life leads him to accept a job from a new employer. He needs the money to get Okla out of jail before he dies of angina and to buy the perfect house with the white picket fence. As Frank gradually gains all the things he's always dreamed of, he finds himself in a new position: having something real to lose.

There's nothing amazingly clever about the plot in Thief. It follows a pretty standard heist movie plot line. The crew scouts a location, develops a plan, gain some rapport, and then put the plan into action. One of Michael Mann's talents is elevating standard genre narratives with breathtaking visuals and slice-of-life dialogue. Mann is notorious for doing extensive research into the lives of the characters he is portraying. This film is no different with the addition of a recently paroled thief as the film's technical adviser and on screen as one of the dirty cops ruining Frank's day. The film also features the first performance from veteran character actor Dennis Farina, who was a cop before becoming an actor. The inclusion of these men help the film seem even more realistic.

Besides James Caan's silent but deadly lead performance, the character with the most screen time is the city of Chicago. Much like Scorcese's positioning of New York as a setting that's just as alive as its citizens, Chicago teems with neon lights, seedy alleyways, and looming skyscrapers. One scene in particular on the rooftop of one of the aforementioned skyscrapers is particularly reminiscent of the opening heist sequence in Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight, for which he has credited Mann as an influence. As events turn bad, Chicago reflects this transition. Neon lights get eclipsed by flames and smoke. The grit of the city gets washed away by the sterile suburbs, the setting of the film's finale.

Fans of Nicolas Winding Refn's Drive will find a spiritual brother in this film. Many of the sequences show instead of tell, and tension always seems to boil a little hotter when no one's speaking. Viewers looking for romance, wittiness, or elaborate, effects-driven action sequences should look elsewhere. James Caan's performance is surprisingly impressive with such little dialogue. His emoting is so subtle, but he's able to express a gamut of emotions from blind optimism to utter nihilism by the film's end.

I included this film in my hidden gems segment because it seems to take a backseat to some of Mann's more recent work like Heat and Collateral, which are both awesome films. Criterion recently released the film as part of its blu-ray collection, and critics have slowly started to revisit the film, pointing to its influence on the hyper-realistic films of the early 90's like King of New York and Reservoir Dogs. I highly recommend this film for a night where you can really pay attention to all its pieces. It's not the kind of movie that reaches out and grabs you from the beginning, so I wouldn't recommend it for social showings. If anything, fans of amazing cinematography will love it.

For Fans of: Drive, The Dark Knight, Bad Lieutenant, Taxi Driver, and the French Connection