100
Bridget Jones’s Diary (2001)
Photo : Courtesy of Universal Pictures
It will often be said of a movie, “They could never make that today.” In the case of “Bridget Jones’s Diary,” it’s closer to: They
wouldn’t make that today. And that’s a damn shame, since the cathartic thing about Renée Zellweger’s Bridget Jones is precisely what a bad role model she is. She’s an effusive mess of a London publishing PR assistant who drinks and smokes too much, binges on junk food and sleeps with her cad of a boss — and if you want to see the film try to justify that, just know that he’s played by Hugh Grant at his most dreamboat smarmy. What makes this adaptation of Helen Fielding’s 1996 novel a singular screen comedy is the way the entire film is blithely amused by the casualness of Bridget’s transgressions. Zellweger plants herself inside the soul of this disreputable British singleton, playing her with just the right touch of exuberant masochistic style to turn the movie into “Pride and Prejudice” for the age of train-wreck hedonism.
99
Wayne’s World (1992)
Photo : ©Paramount/Courtesy Everett Collection
Ah, the “Saturday Night Live” spinoff movie! It was a form that regularly popped up in multiplexes, yet almost inevitably it was not very good. It took characters like Stuart Smalley and the Coneheads and the Roxbury Guys and plopped them into feature-length comedies that just wound up making you realize how perfectly suited they were to late-night sketches. But “Wayne’s World” is different. Mike Myers and Dana Carvey, as the arrested but blissed-out suburban-basement metalhead teenagers Wayne Campbell and Garth Algar, created characters who exerted a resonance far beyond how funny they were. In some weird way they seemed to be just like us, and the first “Wayne’s World” movie is a glorious slapdash headbanger full of savory moments, all rooted in the joy with which Myers and Carvey enact the magnetism of eternal adolescence.
98
Pretty Woman (1990)
Photo : ©Buena Vista Pictures/Courtesy
Even as it turned Julia Roberts into a singular and transcendent movie star, Garry Marshall’s so-big-it-shook-the-culture love story was greeted by a fair amount of huffing and puffing over the incorrectness of its premise: Edward (Richard Gere), a wealthy, buttoned-down corporate raider (i.e., the dreamboat everyman of the future), offers to pay $3,000 to Vivian (Roberts), a brash Hollywood sex worker in black vinyl boots that practically go up to her neck, if she’ll stay with him for a week. What the scolds missed is this: Every rom-com must have its obstacle, and in “Pretty Woman” it’s the off-puttingness of the arrangement that’s the stumbling block. This was the movie that elevated Roberts’ supersize smile into a national treasure, but the film’s secret weapon is that it’s a duet of smiles, with Gere’s wry smirk expressing a silent affection that grows in every scene. And when Héctor Elizondo and Jason Alexander enter the picture, “Pretty Woman” becomes classically hilarious. The movie helped to usher in the age of princess feminism, but what’s memorable about it is also what’s slyly funny: that anyone who thinks money can buy love is a joke.
97
Born Yesterday (1950)
Photo : Courtesy Everett Collection
Every so often, a comedic supporting role comes along that’s so funny, a star is born. Think Marisa Tomei in “My Cousin Vinny” or Mira Sorvino in “Mighty Aphrodite” — parts that likely wouldn’t have existed if not for Judy Holliday’s Oscar-winning helium-voiced turn in George Cukor’s irresistible version of Garson Kanin’s stage play. The “Pygmalion”-esque concept is simple enough: Belligerent small-time criminal Harry Brock (Broderick Crawford) brings his gal Billie Dawn (Holliday) to Washington, D.C., but worries that she’ll embarrass him, so he hires a reporter (William Holden) to tutor her. Only the more education Billie gets, the less she appreciates being ordered around by such a thug. “Drop dead!” she squeaks, getting laughs with practically every line. Holliday’s performance is a master class in comic timing, occasionally working without dialogue at all, as in the gin rummy scene, when she sings and constantly reshuffles her cards, beating her “not couth” boyfriend at his own game.
96
I’m Gonna Git You Sucka (1988)
Photo : ©United Artists/Courtesy Everet
The rib-joint scene, in which Chris Rock plays a customer too poor to afford a full order who tries to haggle for one rib, should be enough to place Keenen Ivory Wayans’ directorial debut in the comedy hall of fame. As a kind of warm-up to “In Living Color,” Wayans took the ZAZ formula and twisted it into a full-blown spoof of Blaxploitation movies. Behind the counter in that rib scene are ’70s screen legends Isaac Hayes and Jim Brown, whose good-sport participation gave the film cred. Instead of repeating tired stereotypes, Wayans turned them on their head, serving up memorable parodies of ’80s excess (like the guy who overdoses on gold chains) and a Mr. Big who’s white for once. Another classic moment: the post-club sex scene, when Anne-Marie Johnson sees Wayans’ “12 inches” and raises him a wig, falsies and a fake leg.
95
Brazil (1985)
Photo : ©Universal/Courtesy Everett Collection
Franz Kafka and George Orwell have been adapted more times than one can count, and yet none of those movies comes as close to the dystopian nightmare societies they forecast as Terry Gilliam’s visionary satire. The Monty Python veteran’s magnum opus was badly compromised by the studio when it came out, and though there is no entirely coherent version of Gilliam’s anarchic cri de coeur, the 142-minute director’s cut suggests the impressive scope of the oppressive society he imagined, where military police burst in and arrest citizens without warning and cumbersome paperwork makes even the slightest task impossible. Naturally, the guy who swoops in to skip those hurdles is labeled a terrorist (a rare comedic role from Robert De Niro), while the film’s real hero is its bumbling dreamer (a bureaucratic functionary played by Jonathan Pryce, who snaps out of it “Matrix” style). Like “1984,” “Brazil” was undeniably ahead of its time, delivering a warped looking-glass prophecy that’s at once authentic and laughably absurd.
94
Clerks (1994)
Photo : ©Miramax/Courtesy Everett Collection
Martin Scorsese described how a generation of budding filmmakers saw John Cassavetes’ low-budget, shot-on-the-street “Shadows” in 1959 and thought, “Hey, we could do that too.” That’s the primal indie spirit that animates Kevin Smith’s exhilarating first film. It’s a movie about two listless slacker dudes, Dante (Brian O’Halloran) and Randal (Jeff Anderson), working at a Quick Stop Groceries convenience store in Leonardo, New Jersey, as they while away the hours talking about “The Empire Strikes Back” and infidelity and porn and God knows what else. And that’s all it is. But the beauty of “Clerks” is its form-follows-function hipster primitivism. Shot in glarey black-and-white in an actual convenience store (the fluorescent schlock-food-and-beer market as ready-made movie set), it has the feel of a slacker documentary that’s making itself up as it goes along. This, the movie seems to be saying, is where America is headed, or where it already is: a collection of short-shrift lives that keep laughing at themselves.
93
Hairspray (1988)
Photo : ©New Line Cinema/Courtesy Everett Collection
John Waters began his career making underground movies with his outsider friends, priding himself on his capacity to shock. But the bad-taste auteur reined it in for “Hairspray,” giving New Line the only PG-rated entry of his career. Political correctness notwithstanding, the project — which was inspired by “The Buddy Deane Show,” a segregated dance program in Waters’ native Baltimore — was subversive in other ways. There’s the casting of Divine as a corpulent housewife, plus the unconventional choice of newbie Ricki Lake to play teenage Tracy Turnblad, the “pleasantly plump” young woman who forces the TV show to integrate. Although the jokes may be gentler than singing assholes and scratch-and-sniff farts, “Hairspray” only pretends to be wholesome, demoting the popular kids in everyone’s eyes, while giving the underdogs a boost via scandalous dance moves and outré looks, like the roach-print formal gown Tracy wears for the finale.
92
The Jerk (1979)
Photo : Courtesy of Universal Pictures
“I was born a poor Black child,” opens the film that made arena-filling stand-up comedian Steve Martin into a movie star. The line always killed when Martin delivered it in his live act, so director Carl Reiner and co-writer Carl Gottlieb decided to take it literally, building a movie around a white guy named Navin R. Johnson who’s so naive he doesn’t notice even the most obvious things. When an assassin tries to shoot him at a service station, missing Martin and hitting the oil cans right behind him instead, Navin shouts, “He hates these cans!” Where so many of Jerry Lewis’ characters were dumb, Martin went dumber, committing to a character whose idiocy became endearing, elevating silliness to the sublime. In doing so, he paved the way for films based on “Saturday Night Live” sketches (“The Blues Brothers” landed the following year) and a panoply of other dimwit characters.
91
She Done Him Wrong (1933)
Photo : Getty Images
“Listen, when women go wrong, men go right after them,” quips Mae West, who could turn any line into a double entendre with a voice that made clear what she was really talking about. No wonder the bawdy blond was considered such a headache for the Hays Code, which put strict limits on how movies dealt with subjects like sex and prostitution. West had to tone things down when adapting “Diamond Lil,” a racy play she’d written and starred in on Broadway — though it still sizzles all these years later. Among her tactics, West always made a late entrance, strutting in after other folks had talked her up. According to legend, West didn’t care for the male co-star Paramount had in mind for the movie. Then she spotted a suave young Cary Grant crossing the studio lot and said, “He’ll do for my leading man.” The pairing is perfect, as the 38-year-old West works her charms, bending the moral up-and-comer to her will.