Rayette Breaks My Heart

The last time I watched "Five Easy Pieces" I was probably 15 years old.  I didn't like it.  I don't really remember any of the reasons why other than Jack Nicholson's character Bobby treated his poor, sweet, dim-bulb girlfriend Rayette so very bad that it made me want to reach into the screen and strangle him before giving her, I don't know, ONE compliment, about SOMEthing, just ONCE - would it have freaking killed him?

I get that I missed the much larger messages and themes carried by the movie based on my sappy heartbreak over (to me) one of the great tragic characters of 1970's cinema - Rayette, as masterfully portrayed by the great cult icon Karen Black.

I watched the movie again today, and I could certainly relate to it more than I did at 15.  I went into it knowing that Rayette was going to break my heart, but trying to keep an open mind.  The movie certainly is a masterpiece, and Nicholson's performance is perhaps the greatest of his career, but I still found I couldn't take my eyes (or mind, when she wasn't on screen) off of Rayette.  I'd think about her all alone waiting for some sign - some olive branch of affection - from her aloof, self-loathing boyfriend, understanding fully how impossible their situation was, their emotional and intellectual incompatibility staggering.

The little details are what get me.  In one scene during the long road trip north for Bobby to visit his ailing father, Rayette wears a negligee to bed and attempts, in her own (simultaneously grating and endearing) way to seduce a thunderously apathetic Bobby.  Only moments before in the movie, Bobby had attempted to end their entire relationship before caving to a sobbing, suicidal Ray and asking her to make the trip with him.  In the few minutes she had to pack her bag before they headed out, she composed herself enough to have the presence of mind to pack lingerie for some potential late night tryst.  After all, Bobby's her man, and she loves him.  That is so pure - so simple - so sweet, and so tragic because Bobby is none of those things, and absolutely unable and unwilling to try to become them. 

When he sticks up for her late in the movie it's more out of protection than love - perhaps he feels about her the way I feel about her, after all - but it changes nothing about the dynamic between them.  He reaches a small sort of resolution with his family and before he and Ray leave she asks his sister to take a picture of them in front of the house.  Bobby scoffs and doesn't slow down.  Ray grins sheepishly before telling Bobby's sister, "If any of y'all are ever down our way, know our home is always open to you!"  She is like a cork bobbing on a sea of great, unfathomable depths.

It's that buoyancy that lets you know, threats of suicide or not, Rayette will more than likely end up on her feet in the end.  If Bobby left, she would cleanse her emotions in a very honest way, pick herself up and go about her life.  The best I can hope for her is that she will meet a man somewhere on her journey who can treasure her sweetness, protect it, and nurture it.  Someone as sweet, stupid, and naive as her.  When I was 15, I thought that person could be me.  But at 29, I can see more of myself in the character of Bobby than I was prepared for, so I know that's not the case.  All I can hope is that she doesn't have to meet many more like us before she finds what she needs.  She's a good person.  She deserves that. 

Wide Eyed Wonderment

"The Wizard of Oz" is as much an American institution as apple pie or the 4th of July.  Dog on the movie in mixed company and the room is likely to go silent, everyone present looking awkwardly down towards the floor, one brave soul managing through gritted teeth and a pained expression, "Don't, dude...just...don't."

It's worth noting that the only people I've ever discussed the movie with who did not idolize it were people who didn't see it until they were older - teenagers or beyond.  I guess there's a certain childlike suspension of disbelief needed to see beyond the seams and paint and strings holding the movie's primitive illusions together.  But it's also worth noting that the millions of minds that have been blown by the movie as children tend to stay blown. 

Like many people, I can't remember the first time I saw "The Wizard of Oz," and I've lost track over the years how many times I've seen it since.  Dozens.  My adoration of it, rather than being dulled by age and experience, has only grown deeper.  It's one of the few things in the world I can always count on to make me feel like a kid again - when everything around me was amazing because there were so many things I didn't yet understand and which were out of my control.  I WAS Dorothy - every kid is - swirled up into the tornado of life, a situation utterly beyond our control. 

I've always been frustrated by the lack of "Oz" movies that have followed in the wake of "Wizard of Oz."  I though the dark, spooky "Return to Oz" from the 1980's was excellent, but other than that...nothing.  So my heart began to race with anticipation at the announcement of "Oz: The Great and Powerful," the new movie starring James Franco.  When it came to Berryville, I was sitting in the theater on opening night to drink it in.

All I can say is...wow.

In spite of some bizarrely leaden acting (especially from Franco) and a few moments and plot elements that felt more derivative than tribute, the movie manages to conjure up a hefty dose of magic all its own.  A prequel to the events of "Wizard of Oz," the movie tosses in some backstory about how "The Great and Powerful Oz" (the "man behind the curtain" in the 1939 movie) happened to make it to Oz in the first place.  Add in a trio of beautiful, scheming witches (one of whom undergoes a transformation comparable to the impact of seeing Darth Vader's mask get lowered onto Anakin's head in Star Wars Episode III and hearing that first iconic breath come rasping out), some amazingly rendered CGI supporting characters, and even a classic "finding the potential within oneself" underdog story, the movie is one of the most enjoyable I've seen in a long time. 

As I sat there in the darkened theater, letting the spectacular visuals wash over me, a peculiar transformation began to occur - I reverted back in time to the child I used to be, sitting in wide eyed wonder as the magic of movie worlds slowly sucked me in and zonked my impressionable mind.  I used to commonly experience a tremendous sense of disappointment after a movie was over that the world created in it wasn't real - the magic was so powerful that having to head back to "real life" was nothing but a letdown.  I hadn't felt that for a long time, but I felt it last night.  For two hours, I was utterly transported from reality into a world beyond imagination. 

There were times when I was overcome by emotion - not at the events onscreen - but at the effect they were having on me.  It was so wonderful to be brought back to that place...that place I didn't even realize I had lost sight of until I felt it come rushing back.  That is the magic of the movies as pure escapism.  I'm back in reality now, but my step is lighter and my mind is brighter, filled with optimism and wonder at the world around me - perhaps the most amazing place of all.