The plot is nothing new or exciting. Maggie Johnson (Pickford) is a stock clerk at a five and dime store where she meets new fellow clerk Joe Grant (Charles Rogers) and takes him under her wing. Only he’s actually the owner’s son, there to prove himself before his engagement to a society girl hand picked by his parents. But he and Maggie, of course, fall for each other. What will happen when the rich Merrill family finds out about poor Maggie?

Maggie is so the romance heroine martyr. Her mother spends her days attending funerals – doesn’t matter whose – while her henpecked father waits around at home. Meanwhile wild sister Liz is going out with “sporty” men and getting into all kinds of trouble. Maggie seems to be the only one who works – all day – then she comes home to make dinner and clean up the family messes.

The other girls at the store might joke with Maggie about her interest in Joe but he’s just as interested back as we see in two charming scenes when he rides home with her in the back of a truck before meeting her family in an especially raucous mood. Then later they eat lunch in a packing crate, laughing together and annoying an older supervisor before even he is won over by their obvious love for each other.

But Pickford never lets us feel sorry for Maggie. She loves her family and only stays out one night when Joe talks her into going with him for dinner – to his family’s house when they’re out. She’s horrified at the thought while Joe mimes and winks his plans to the butler behind her back. What follows is a funny scene of Maggie flustering the footman and quietly telling Joe that the service is excellent even if the food is poor.

Then the Merrill’s arrive home and before she flees into the rainy night Maggie finds out just how much Joe has lied to her. As she wanders the streets and dreams of what might have been, Joe frantically searches for her. Only to find her talking the night court Judge out of jailing her sister who’s been arrested. Joe declares his love but Daddy Merrill has to make a final play at getting rid of Maggie before true love prevails.

This is the only scene which I thought Pickford played too broadly but the following reconciliation with Joe was worth it. For the rest of the movie, the actors mainly underplay it and there’s a lack of the overwrought facial expressions and exaggerated acting which I associate with silent films. Here the physical comedy is fantastic and usually had me in stitches. There’s not a lot of dialogue but the actors are so good that it’s not needed to follow what’s going on and being said. I also like that there are a few sound effects and the background music is played by a full orchestra instead of only a piano.

It’s also clear that the film was made before the Hays Code as seen in a funny early scene when an overloaded Maggie is attempting to bring out more stock in the store and accidentally drops a pair of ladies underwear. An unknowing female customer walks onto them then looks down and is horrified at the thought that she’s dropped her drawers in public. During the final reconciliation scene, Maggie initially turns him down saying, “It’s my family, Joe…they need me more than you do.” Her father overhears at which point he finally grows a pair, stands up and yells, “Like hell we do!” before he takes charge and kicks his lazy family in the collective ass. Color me shocked when he said that! But it’s funny as …well, hell.

The movie is only 87 minutes long but it’s one I didn’t want to end. It’s filled with humor, creativeness and wit. Pickford and Rogers, who would later marry, have wonderful screen chemistry and are backed by a great cast. If you’ve never tried a Pickford movie or a silent one, here’s a great place to start.

~Jayne

Amazon

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Easy Rawlins: A man once told me that you step out of your door in the morning, and you are already in trouble. The only question is are you on top of that trouble or not?

I hesitated a bit about reviewing this movie for the sole reason that it has no romance in it for the lead character – not even a bromance as the friend of the hero is a bit more on the psychotic side than anything. But it’s so well done, lovely to look at and evocative of the age that I can’t resist. I watched it recently and then immediately watched it again with the director’s commentary – something I’d recommend in order to catch small nuances of the time and characters. The mystery might not be that hard to figure out but the journey to solving it worth the trip.

Easy Rawlins (Denzel Washington) is a black man in 1948 Los Angeles who’s just lost his factory job and has mortgage payments to make. As he’s reading the want ads in a bar owned by a friend from back home in Houston, that man introduces Easy to a possible source of quick money. DeWitt Albright (Tom Sizemore) says he works for a man named Todd Carter – who just recently dropped out of the mayoral race – who is looking to find his estranged fiancee Daphne Monet (Jennifer Beals) and who will pay well for information as to her whereabouts. The $100 (remember this is 1948 and that’s a shitload of money) proves too much of a temptation to a man behind on his mortgage despite the fact that Easy has a decidedly uneasy feeling about all this.

He begins to inquire in the hidden bars and night spots where he meets up with another friend from home and that man’s girlfriend who drops hints that she knows something about Daphne. Easy yields to another temptation and has a one night stand with the woman Coretta (Lisa Nicole Carsen), leaving early the next morning with a bit of information he then passes on to Albright that evening. Arriving home, he’s confronted by detectives from the LAPD who question him – while beating him up – about the murder of Coretta. Eventually released from custody, Easy is picked up and questioned – yet again – on his way home, this time by the other man running for mayor who claims to be concerned about the murder of Coretta, who worked for him.

By this point, it’s dawning on me and Easy that all these important people must want Daphne pretty badly for some nefarious reason and not just to kiss and make up. When the woman herself appears and contacts Easy, the mystery and danger only deepen as still another body is found. After a tense confrontation proves to Easy that he can’t trust anyone and that he’d better start moving fast or be set up for murders he didn’t commit, he calls in reinforcements from Houston in the person of Mouse (Don Cheadle) who’s the fastest draw in Texas but also one of the most unbalanced. With Mouse watching his back, can Easy dig to the bottom of this nasty brew of blackmail, death and worse?

I haven’t read the book this film is based on but I understand that some major changes were made. Since I didn’t know any better while initially watching it, those didn’t bother me and once explained they make sense in the context of condensing a book into the confined time frame of a movie. There are places where the film drags a touch but to have eliminated certain scenes would have removed some of the evocative atmosphere of the age. There are definite moments of light vs dark as Easy moves from his normal environment of a bright, two bedroom bungalow in a neighborhood filled with children, pets and black families just trying to get their slice of the post war American pie and into the dark world of crime and corruption. But then his character is being shown transitioning from a 9-5 factory worker only concerned with his lawn to that of a man who’s gone through a cesspool, lived to tell the story, and who has made the decision to see where his new skills could lead him.

His P.I. persona has to develop and we, the viewers, need a window into the world he has to move through – where racism is rampant, the LAPD is to be feared and black people don’t go to certain areas of the city or certain parts of buildings. Merely replying to the random conversational overtures of a white woman can quickly land Easy into a ton of trouble and driving through a white neighborhood, with a white woman in his car could lead to disaster. Yet there are other sides to his life as seen in the homey scenes of him planting trees and tending to his landscaping, talking to his neighbors and dealing with a strange older man obsessed with chopping down trees. Washington effortlessly conveys all this and his performance is one of the chief reasons to see the film. Another is Don Cheadle who is riveting to watch as the childhood friend from Houston who shoots first – with a smile on his face – and doesn’t even think to ask questions later. There is one chilling line he utters which reminds me of the various fables of the scorpion and the frog or the snake and the woman. Easy knew Mouse’s nature and thus shouldn’t be surprised at something Mouse did. Cheadle makes me believe in this man who is cheerfully amoral as he’s willing to threaten people, shoot them and even kill them without a second thought – all in the name of friendship for Easy.

As I said, the mystery begins to reveal itself fairly early on and I guessed a lot of what is the driving force behind these powerful men who have money to throw around, henchmen on hire, power to gain and yet who are in certain ways as hampered as Easy by the times and social mores. Beals is a nice mixture of naivete and sultriness while Sizemore provides an almost casual, thoughtless menace. The other actors are well cast and good in their roles but many of them have little screen time in which to develop those. The real strength of the film is in the fabulous sets, music, costumes and cars. In the way it takes the viewer into another world and time. It is violent, it is disturbing with its blatant racism but it also manages to end on an optimistic note as Easy and we see that friends and a place to call home are just fine.

~Jayne

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“There’s sex, snotty people and flamboyant costumes. What more could you want.” – Spanky and John Go to the Movies.

I’m almost hesitant to recommend this film just because I know a lot of people probably won’t like it. Note I’m not saying you won’t get it, just that you might not like it. I had read many of the reviews in which people who’ve seen the film praise it to the heavens – and also say that many viewers won’t get it – or conversely damn it as totally unwatchable. But with the film also getting heaps of praise for its costuming and music I decided to give it a go.

The plot is very complex so I’m just going to steal what they say at Netflix: “In 17th-century England, aristocratic Mrs. Herbert (Janet Suzman) commissions handsome draughtsman Mr. Neville (Anthony Higgins) to produce a dozen sketches of the family estate to surprise her absent husband. Neville accepts the project – in exchange for 12 sexual favors. The exceedingly smug Neville is in control till Mrs. Herbert’s daughter (Anne Louise Lambert) — who has her own agenda — outfoxes the arrogant artist.”

The film is gorgeous to watch. The costumes, which are exaggerations of the current fashions of that day, are fabulous. As one reviewer said as many ribbons and lace as money could buy and then some. Plus wigs which are fantastic in length as well as amazing in the slight horned shape that some of the men wear – and which is very apropos for one of the men in particular if you know what the phrase “made to wear horns” means.

The Jacobean house and gardens used in the production are beautiful and good use is made of all views and angles. Greenaway mentions that the antique tea set seen in one scene belongs to the owners of the house who kindly allowed them to be used and which were insured for more money than the entire budget of the film. The lighting, which is often just candles or lanterns, deserves praise as well as it helps set the mood for many shots.

Greenaway set many of the scenes up as tableaux with few cuts and changes of viewpoint in order to make them look more like staged plays of the age. And the wide angle often used means that the actors’ faces aren’t close up enough for us to gain a lot of insight into what their characters are thinking – thus requiring the watcher to pay close attention to the many meanings of what is being said. I also love the music which riffs on Purcell.

But it’s the layers within layers of the plot that makes you pay attention. I knew to be looking for the little items which appear in the views that Neville is drawing of the house and gardens. Items which on their own mean nothing but which put all together can make a case for murder. Because, yes you guessed it, this is actually a Glorious Revolution country house murder. Someone is dead, someone is going to get blamed for it and lots of people stand to gain from the death. Greenaway presents all the clues, shows who is responsible without coming right out and saying whodunnit and then has the culprits eliminate all those clues in order to wrap things up. And what had started out as a film showing Neville in control suddenly switches to reveal who has truly been in control all along and exactly what was needed from Neville.

But wait, there’s more. Maybe. Even though Greenaway doesn’t mention this in his commentary on the film, a few reviewers have mentioned that the characters can also stand in for the great political figures and tumultuous situations of the day: William of Orange, James II, Queen Mary, Princess Anne, Prince George of Denmark, George of Hanover and England herself. I must admit I had fun listening for these allusions. There are allegories and symbolism in regard to fruit and paintings. The film tackles issues about Protestants and Catholics, servants and masters, sex and power.

The pace is stately, the camera is fairly static, the dialogue – which the actors deliver with careful pronunciation – is period without being too archly stuffy, there is a moving statue – who is mainly naked and pees in one scene, there is no romantic love involved and one can’t mentally drift off or fast forward at the risk of missing something. In short, there are many reasons this film won’t appeal to a broad audience. But if you’re looking for something lovely to look at, beautiful to listen to and a puzzle which will keep you wondering and thinking – and rethinking – on what you’ve seen, this one is superb.

~Jayne

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Dear readers,

A few months ago, I read the first volume in this wonderful series by Fumi Yoshinaga. The premise is deceptively simple: What would happen if a plague wiped out the majority of the male population in Tokugawa era Japan? How would that affect Japanese society and culture? The answer proved to be thoroughly engrossing and fascinating.

At the end of the previous volume, we were introduced to the newest shogun to ascend the title, Yoshimune. Unlike her predecessors, Yoshimune has very strong opinions about how the country should be run, particularly with regards to its financial sector. She’s strict and frugal, and I thought she was an absolutely awesome interpretation of one of the Japan’s most beloved historical figures. Volume 1 ended with Yoshimune delving into the history of the Redface Pox and how it changed the course of Japan forever.

Volume 2 opens several decades before, when the Redface Pox was beginning to spread through Japan and before Yoshimune assumed the title of shogun. In this early pages, we witness the death of Iemitsu, the third Tokugawa shogun, at the hands of the plague. For a bit of historical context, such an event would have catastrophic had it happened in reality. As being only the third shogun, it was his task to continue solidifying Tokugawa rule. His death in such a precarious time would have been disastrous.

In the pages of ÅŒoku, this is a fact that hangs over everyone. You see, Iemitsu had no interest in women much to the dismay of his nursemaid-turned-attendant, Lady Kasuga, and left no heir. With the death of the last male shogun and no claimant to the title, the country was left without a ruler. Considering the chaos that consumed Japan while the Tokugawa clan fought to gain control of the country, everyone dreads what would happen if the general populace were to find out what had happened.

Several years after Iemitsu’s death, the monk Arikoto travels to Edo castle to present himself to the shogun before assuming his new role as an abbot. Unfortunately, he soon finds himself held hostage in the castle, barred from leaving. And it is here that he learns the truth: Iemitsu died six years ago, a fact that was kept secret from everyone and the person who sits in his place now is his illegitimate daughter. It is a masquerade carried out for one purpose alone — for Iemitsu’s daughter to live long enough to conceive and give birth to a male heir, who will then be a legitimate bearer of the shogun title. The reason why Arikoto has been barred from leaving the castle is because Lady Kasuga intends for him to enter the Ooku and become a member of the meager harem to encourage Iemitsu’s daughter to carry out her duty.

If I thought the first volume was amazing, the second volume matches that and goes beyond. Desperate times lead to desperate actions and while I have no doubts that Lady Kasuga’s motives for taking Iemitsu’s daughter and having her assume the identity of her father were less than stellar, it doesn’t change the fact that it was one way to keep the country under orderly rule. Japan was already in chaos due to the Redface Pox. Society was already facing upheaval because of the large numbers of men dying; to add the destruction of shogunate rule after such a short period of time would have been more than the country could have beared.

At the same time, we also see how such measures completely destroyed the people involved in its schemes. Despite being of noble birth, Arikoto wanted nothing more than to be a monk so he could bring succor and peace to the general populace. But even more so, my heart wrenches for Iemitsu’s daughter — in order to fulfill Lady Kasuga’s plan, she’s had to throw away her femininity and be forced to assume that of a man. She doesn’t even have her own name anymore; people call her Iemitsu, which is sure to be damaging. No one cares for her as a person either. They only care for the fact that one day she will hopefully bear them a son who can bring back the order they’re used to having.

Much of the plot in this volume delves into the ways people cope. Arikoto bears it as best he can, with the gentle strength that is his trademark. But there is doubt that deep inside, he is bitter and angry at what has happened to him, particularly when it becomes apparent that his noble family has abandoned him to this fate. Along those lines, Iemitsu is angry and bad-tempered, unleashing it upon everyone around her. But deep inside, she is deeply hurt and wounded and terribly sad. It is a love story that may not fit the traditional definition as such, but it is one nonetheless.

In this volume, we also learn the origins of the customs we were introduced in the previous one, such as why the ÅŒoku exists and why the secret swain meets the fate he does. It was interesting to see how such things get altered from their actual origin to the ritualized practice we saw demonstrated in volume 1. The origin of the secret swain, for example, was horrifying and yet all too believable for me and to see how its roots led to the practice subverted by Yoshimune was a sad one.

I still recommend this series to fans of historical and political manga as well as to readers interested in stories that comment on gender dynamics. The first volume set a high bar and it pleases me to say that this one meets that standard and exceeds it. A-

My regards,
Jia

This book can be purchased at Amazon.

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I first heard of ÅŒoku about a year ago from a friend.   The premise, she said, was that due to a disease that targets only men, the power hierarchy in Japan was genderflipped.   Women filled roles that had, up until the disease struck the male population, been traditionally done only by men — including that of the Tokugawa shoguns.   It sounded completely like something I would like but since I’m unable to read Japanese, it was one of those things I resigned myself to never having access to.   Thankfully, other people thought it sounded interesting too and it’s now available in English.

In ÅŒoku, a strange new disease breaks out among the Japanese male population.   It’s characterized by a high fever that’s then shortly followed by red pustules that spread all over the body.   These pustules soon fester and the victim dies within a few days.   Because of these symptoms, the disease is dubbed the Redface Pox.

Although the Redface Pox originated in a small farming village, it becomes apparent that the plague is highly contagious and virulent as well.   It spreads from one village to the next, striking down only the men.   And unfortunately, no cure is ever found so it becomes a common disease that’s simply a part of life.

Eighty years after the Redface Pox first appeared, the male population has stabilized at 25% that of the female.   Because of their low survival rate, men are carefully protected as seed-bearers while women took over the labor in the land.   Another result of the decreased male population is that marriage as an institution collapses.   Poor women had no hope of ever taking a husband, a right now reserved only for the samurai class, wealthy merchants and government officials.

The only exception to this, of course, is that of the Tokugawa Shogun.   As the supreme leader of Japan, she alone is allowed the luxury of keeping an interior palace populated solely by 3,000 beautiful men (this number later turns out to be an extreme exaggeration) and from which all other women are banned from entering.   This interior palace is called the Inner Chamber, or the ÅŒoku.

One thing I didn’t expect when I started reading this first volume was that while the gender roles are inverted, the Japanese history portrayed in ÅŒoku is pretty much identical to that of our own.   For example, when the sixth shogun dies, her daughter assumes the title.   But the seventh shogun is merely a child, and a sickly one at that.   When she dies, so does the main bloodline of the Tokugawa clan, which means the mantle of shogun falls onto one of the three branch bloodlines, ushering in the era of the eighth shogun, Yoshimune.   How it plays out in ÅŒoku is nearly identical to how it happened in our history, right down to Yoshimune’s background.   I found that I really liked this choice because in keeping the major details the same, readers can focus on the alterations that inverting the gender roles causes and the social critiques that I believe Yoshinaga is making about traditional gender roles.

That said, I was initially put off for the first half of this volume.   The main story begins with Mizuno, the handsome son of a poor hatamoto (shogunate retainers) family who is in love with his childhood friend, O-Nobu.   O-Nobu, however, is the daughter of a rich merchant family and thus, Mizuno is an unsuitable marriage match for her.   Spurred on by the fact that he can never marry the one he loves, he chooses to enter the service of the Inner Chamber.   To be honest, I actually have no problem with this storyline in and of itself.   It’s just the manga is about a historical Japan in which the gender roles are switched but yet we still begin with a man and his angst.   That isn’t exactly what I signed up for.

But through Mizuno’s eyes, we catch a glimpse of the Inner Chamber and the politicking that’s a daily way of life for the men who live there.   It’s a fascinating contrast to see the coping mechanisms and machinations of men in a situation that, traditionally speaking when it comes to fiction, has belonged to women.   This fact alone is what carried me through the first (80-page) chapter.

Thankfully, the second chapter introduces Yoshimune and with her entrance, my interest substantially increased.   In our history, Yoshimune is widely considered to the best of the Tokugawa shoguns, instituting a lot of financial reform during his reign.   The female Yoshimune of ÅŒoku is no different.   Because she comes from a far province, she finds the excesses of the Inner Chamber distasteful, particularly when Japan’s financial situation is in dire straits.   I’ve seen various portrayals of Yoshimune over the years, in period dramas and movies, but I really enjoyed this version of a no-nonsense, pragmatic female Yoshimune who refused to put up with any B.S. And not only that, but one who is unapologetic about her sexual appetite.

Knowing what I knew about the historical Yoshimune Tokugawa and the decisions he made during his reign, I was really interested in seeing how his decisions would play in the manga via this alternative female version — particularly with regards to the Inner Chamber.   The translation of Yoshimune’s historical decision to the female Yoshimune’s edict in the manga takes on a completely different note given ÅŒoku‘s premise.   It’s a brilliant reimagining in that sense.

I do think I should point out to potential readers that the dialogue used in this manga might take some getting used to.   It is accurate because the manga does take place during the Edo Period and most of the characters belong to the upper classes.   Even so, the old-fashioned formality might be a shock at first, especially when compared to other manga set during this time period and which show virtually no difference between the dialogue depicted and that of our own.

Because this is a Viz Signature title, the production values of the actual manga itself are beautiful.   Both the front and back cover have fold-out flaps, and the first page in this volume is black with translucent lettering for the title. I initially thought it was vellum but under further examination, I don’t think it is.   All of this frames Yoshinaga’s artwork, which is lovely.   The chapter pages are gorgeous.   I wish my scanner was working so I could include a sample.

So despite a rocky start, I really ended up enjoying this volume and I look forward to the next.   I do wonder how the publisher intends to handle the English release since ÅŒoku is infamous for having a slow release schedule in Japan — one volume per year versus the multi-volume releases that characterize other manga series.   I checked the release date for the next English volume and it’s at the end of this year.   That’s already half of what’s available in Japan.   This might pose a problem in the future but for now, I’ll look to volume 2.   I can’t wait to see what Yoshimune learns about the history of the Redface Pox and how the transition between male shoguns to female ones occurred.   B+

My regards,
Jia

This book can be purchased at Amazon.

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Dear Taylor Hackford,

Although I had heard of An Officer and a Gentleman (who hasn’t?) and seen many parodies of the legendary ending, I never got around to seeing it until I watched  Searching for Debra Winger (2002) last week.

The Rosanna Arquette directed documentary consisted of a series of interviews with a number of high-profile lead actresses about working in the entertainment/film industry and the pressures they had to face. The title was inspired by a time when actress Rosanna Arquette was shocked to learn that successful and Oscar-nominated actress Debra Winger decided to retire from acting in 1995 when she was only 40 years old.

Arquette ultimately decided to explore the question why so many successful lead actresses dropped out suddenly after reaching a certain age, and why fewer "meaty" roles were offered when they grew older. But I digress. Despite the uneven quality of the documentary, I enjoyed Arquette’s interviews with Jane Fonda, Martha Plimpton and Debra Winger. It was a brief discussion about An Officer and Gentleman that got me curious enough to overcome my dislike for Richard Gere to watch the film. (I’m sorry that your name and filmography weren’t enough.)

The film opens with Zack Mayo (Richard Gere) in a Seattle apartment, remembering his childhood days. Cue the flashbacks: eleven-year-old Zack (Tommy Petersen) arrived at Manila airport where Byron Mayo, his U.S. Navy sailor father (Robert Loggia), was waiting for him. While offering the condolences to Zack about his mother, Bryon made it clear to Zack he would be at sea for three weeks every month and that he hasn’t the time for "all this Daddy stuff". A further exchange between them made it clear that Zack held Byron partly responsible for his mother’s death. Bryon rejected this accusation; implied that the mother was at fault for her own death; and that Zack should simply grow up.  

Back to the present day, Zack wakes his aged father from a drunken slumber and makes a casual announcement he’s joined the Navy with an intention of becoming a jet pilot. His father doesn’t react well as he says, "Officers aren’t like you and me. They’re a different breed."

With determination and ambition behind him, Zack Mayo ignores his father’s warnings and travels to Port Rainier where the Officer Candidate School is located, which would be his home for thirteen weeks. On the first day, he meets Gunnery Sergeant Emil Foley (Louis Gossett, Jr), a tough and larger-than-life personality that has no qualms with bullying and shouting at his charges.

Quite quickly, it’s clear Zack is indifferent to Foley and Zack’s fellow classmates. He quietly earns the reputation of being a dishonest cynic-’selling a service to fellow school candidates for money-’while holding himself aloof from his classmates. He just wants to get through the training quickly and effectively, and alone. In spite of all this, happy-go-lucky classmate Sid Worley (David Keith) persistently makes friends with Zack.

Meanwhile local factory girls, Paula Pokrifki (Debra Winger) and her best friend Lynette Pomeroy (Lisa Blount), have big plans. They view Navy boys as their potential passports out of their drab working lives and would do what they can to snag a Navy husband. Once in a while, they dress up and visit the Officer Candidate School to meet with respectable wives of officers and attend social events.

At one such social event, Zack and Sid are introduced to Paula and Lynette. Both sets are paired up; Zack with Paula and Sid with Lynette. Zack is mildly amused to find Paula a quick-witted and headstrong woman. He chooses to play with her to pass time during the training course. Sid, however, falls for Lynette hard and fast.

Drill instructor Foley disapproves Zack’s indifference and aloofness, and his times with "local girls".   Under intense scrutiny from Foley and brutal drills, Zack is forced to face up to the truth about his reason for joining the Navy.   

Where will he go from there now? How would it affect his future, his deepening but still fragile relationship with Paula, and his friendship with Sid and others? And above of all, will he ever come to terms with his past? Will he graduate from the School with full honours?

All these years I thought An Officer and a Gentleman was a poor-boy-makes-good film with a dollop of romance, similar to Rocky and Top Gun, but I was wrong. It’s much more than that.

It’s a battle of wills, wits and beliefs. An everyday tale of an emotionally wounded young man who was convinced his driven ambitions and determination alone would get him to wherever he wanted to go. After experiencing a number of situations and confrontations, he consequently discovered no one can make it through alone. It’s a simple story, but it’s the oft-difficult progress of Zack’s emotional journey that made the film compelling to watch.

It wasn’t all about Zack. The story briefly touched the lives of people around him; the people who make Zack what he’ll become. Zack’s classmates: optimistic Sid Worley (David Keith), rigid Topper Daniels (David Caruso), preppy Emiliano Della Serra (Tony Plana), quiet giant Perryman (Harold Sylvester) and the only female classmate, Casey Seeger (Lisa Eilbacher) whose physical weaknesses constantly frustrated her. They slowly formed a sense of kinship as well as recognising their weaknesses and strengths while struggling through their thirteen-week training course.

Paula and Lynette who struggle with the knowledge that they may be like their families that spent their entire lives working in a world that Paula and Lynette hated. They were ambitious enough to do what they can to get out of it. This is where the film stumbled, I felt. At best they were portrayed as opportunists that don’t shy from using their bodies and other people to escape from a life of drudgery. It seems that the difference between Paula and Lynette lies with this question: how willing are they to stand by their men when the going gets tough? The most willing is the Good Woman and the least willing is the Bad Woman. Guess who won that Good Woman award? And what was her reward? We find out from watching the ending.

It bothered me that these women didn’t seem to think of doing it for themselves. Go to a bloody college, get a job outside the town, do whatever you can to escape without relying on men. If you want to shag a Navy boy, do it because you want to, not because it could snag you a husband. Yet the film made it perfectly normal while subtly condemning these characters, even Paula. Then again, it was pointed out to me that this was made during early 1980s. A different era, another world. Um, I’m not that convinced. Regardless, that was my only serious issue with the film.

Paula, to be fair, didn’t always take the crap from Zack when he had one of his usual arsehole moments, though. That partly redeemed her. I also liked her scenes with her concerned mother.

The relationship dynamic between Lynette and Sid was more fascinating than the one between Zack and Paula. Zack’s reaction-’and Lynette’s-’to Sid’s fate was gut-ripping as well. My friend actually cheered when Zack called Lynette names. But I felt sorry for Lynette because while I didn’t approve what she did, I thought I understood why she was driven to do it. In her own way, she was honest in her reaction to Sid’s decision.   My friend and I remain at odds over the demonization of Lynette  which is a mark of a good film.

I loved Louis Gossett, Jr. Loved, loved the man, so it was great to see him in this film. He unsurprisingly didn’t disappoint me with his performance, even though what came out of his mouth shocked me now and then. I’m not sure why it shocked me. I have seen films with similar characters including Full Metal Jacket. I think it was the way he said these things that made it so startling, attention-grabbing and effective.

I had no idea he won an Academy Award for Best Actor in a Supporting Role. (I already knew about the Best Original Song award for Up Where We Belong.) David Keith’s performance surprised and delighted me. And leading man Richard Gere did well as Zack, (said I, begrudgingly). I always saw him a mediocre actor, but this role suited him very well because he seemed surprisingly naturalistic. Not so obnoxiously smug nor wooden. I wonder if it was because his character Zack can be such an arsehole that he fitted in well? Perhaps it was your direction that helped him to be a bit more likeable. I think it’s the latter.

The legendary ending was cheesy as hell, but despite my issue with its message, it worked, oddly enough. Worked well enough to make me sniffle. Just a bit.

In short, An Officer and a Gentleman is a gritty yet optimistic tale that will leave viewers with a sense of satisfaction and optimism. It gets B for that.

Be good, be bad & be safe,

Jaili
An Officer and a Gentleman trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l1Ehz_cAMGc

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