The Lion Sleeps Tonight

"All that lives must die, passing through nature to eternity." ~William Shakespeare, Hamlet




I have a soft spot for Disney. I wish I could write up some diatribe about the evils of Disney, with their blatant misogyny; their recycled story lines, characters, and even whole animated sequences; or even their weird obsession with orphans, but i cannot. I was a Disney kid. Thanks to the Magical World of Disney, I set sail around the world in search of flying elephants, ostrich-riding island children, and BDSM. It was a joyous time indeed.

 ~"You've been bloody naughty. You deserve a proper spanking."~

SWOON!

So I jumped at the opportunity to re-view one of the best, The Lion King (1994). It is the retelling of Shakespeare's Hamlet on the Serengeti, with a pride of . . . LIONS! That's right, Disney doesn't want to confuse the children.  Let's see here. The story centers around Simba, the new cub (voiced by Jonathan Taylor Thomas of Home Improvement fame, oh and apparently the wall of my girlfriend--she obviously had bad taste from an early age) to King Mufasa (voiced by Darth Vader James Earl Jones.) Our conniving uncle Scar (brilliantly voiced by Jeremy Irons) concocts a double-assassination attempt with his hyena friends to initiate a   coup, allowing both lion and hyena to coexist in fascist harmony. Seriously, have you noticed the not-too-subtle visual references to Nazi Germany.

So Spoiler Alert after Darth Vader Mufasa dies, Simba is ran off by the Hyenas into the wilderness. What got me, even as a child, was the hyenas used the word "KILL." I don't believe that movie had ever been uttered in an animated Disney classic before. Another first is, THE FATHER DIES. Seriously, in every other fucking Disney classic, it's the mother who gets whacked. Bambi, Snow White, Cinder-fuckin-ella, each had their mothers ripped away. I suppose you can't have a Hamlet story without a dead father, the male lion is where all the action is. Even if they are a bunch of lazy fucks.

~Look at my noble nuts, bitches.~

So the newly orphaned, newly homeless, still-fucking-maneless Simba befriends the comic reliefs of Timon and Pumbaa, and learns all about the carefree life of taking care of numero uno. They even have a fucking montage song. (They seriously sing that song for about 2 years.) 

But it's Disney. They like music. This time, they opted to have a real rockNroller into the Magic Kingdom, Sir Elton Fucking John. *bows* No one can write a ballad like that ball-licker. (And I mean that with the utmost respect, Sir Reggie.)

~Disney's Liberace~

Then there is the long-lost love thing, the monkey-whacking thing, the "oh fuck, i'm my father!" thing, the back from the grave thing, the kill your uncle thing. But you know, with whimsical talking animals and shit.

The Downward Spiral

"Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must live." ~Charles Bukowski




"People are always asking me if I know Tyler Durden." So began Fight Club (1999), quite possibly the most quotable movie. Ever. Period. Our protagonist (Edward Norton), whose name is never given, is an insomnia-stricken automobile recall specialist who finds inner peace (and sleep) when he begins frequenting support groups. A good cry equates to a good sleep. All is swell and proper until Marla Singer (an exquisitely crazy Helena Bonham Carter) invades the support group circuit.

~Crazy never looked so good.~

Marla's lie reflected our narrator's lie and insomnia ensued. 

It was then we are introduced to Tyler Durden (pre-tabloid Brad Pitt). After our narrator's condo explodes, he goes to live with Tyler and the two of them start Fight Club. Oh the anarchy, the sweet anarchy. 

What started as an underground fighting club grew into an elite militaristic troupe of Space Monkeys causing chaos and mayhem all around, eventually leading to an intricate plan to blow up the credit card companies. When BitchTits Bob (Meat Loaf) is shot in the head trying to destroy a piece of public art, our narrator thinks it has gone far enough, and tries to stop Tyler. 

And this is where the movie gets really fucked up! Our narrator and Tyler Durden are . . . the same fucking person. It's like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde on 'roids.

~(and by 'roids I mean tea and crumpets)~

Fight Club is a satire of the consumerism of America. We are at conflict with our two halves everyday, our consumerist self (eating, working, spending) and our animal self (fucking, fighting, killing). Our homes are broken, our spirits are broken, our vision is broken. We are all misguided orphan bastards with spear in one hand and briefcase in the other. We don't know where are we and we don't know where we're going. This movie at least tries to find the hope in hopelessness, the faith in faithlessness, and the comfort in the fact that the bottom is only as far down as your imagination can go.

Again I Go Unnoticed

"Everything has its beauty, but not everyone sees it." ~Confucius.

Look Closer. These words are not just the logline of American Beauty (1999), but also echo our own voyeuristic nature. It opens with a beyond-the-grave narration from our protagonist, Lester Burnham, (played exquisitely by Kevin Spacey, earning him his second Oscar in 3 years), foretelling his own death within the year. His lovely, yet highly anal-retentive real estate wife, Carolyn (Annette Bening, Oscar-snubbed by gender-bending Hilary Swank) obviously wears the pants in the relationship, emasculating Lester on a daily basis. Daughter, Jane (Thora Birch) is dealing with body-image issues while saving up for breast augmentation.

New neighbors move into the empty house next door. homophobic Colonel Fitts (Chris Cooper) his reclusive shell-of-a-wife (Allison Janney), and their drug-dealing videographer son Ricky Fitts (Wes Bentley), who has more than a modest crush on Burnham's Baby Jane.

Lester awakens from his comatose life when we encounters Jane's cheerleading friend, Angela (Mena Suvari), practically nutting in the bleachers. Oh, and just so we're on the same page here--Lester is 42, Angela is 16. Yep, our protagonist is a an ephebophile (yeah, I had to look it up too.)

 

So now Lester makes it his mission in life to bang Angela. Maybe not the noblest of goals, but a goal nonetheless. He blackmails his boss, grows a pair concerning his wife (who, might I add, becomes a gun-toting adulterer), and  starts a $2000/oz weed habit. 

Things get really bat-shit weird when Colonel Fitts throws Ricky out of his house after witnessing a drug deal with Lester and assumes his son is top-of-the-line cocksucker. Afterward, the Colonel visits Lester......for some man-on-man liplocking (WTF!......That explains SO much!)

Don't worry folks, when Lester is thrust into the itty-bitty titty committee, the father figure reawakens and the audience doesn't feel completely icky for rooting for the pervert. All seems to be well and fine in Lester's world until . . . 

~"I would like to thank the Academy."~

So the question still remains

Who killed Lester Burnham?

(My vote is the CIA, but I'm a conspiracy nut.)




The magic world of American Beauty is the brainchild of mastermind Alan Ball (who afterward went on to create the BEST SHOW EVER, Six Feet Under.) In this story, we are witnessing not only the sexual reawakening of a lonely, emasculated man, but also his rebirth into humanity. By the end of the movie, Lester has broken free from the chains that bind so many of us down. He finally knows who he is and what he really wants. It's true that none of these realizations are able to be brought into fruition, but tragedy is a part of life.

The message is a hopeful one--Embrace life tightly with both arms, because you never know who owns a gun.