The Bridges at Toko-Ri

The Bridges at Toko-Ri is the best movie I've seen this summer.

Adapted from the novel by WWII Sailor James Michener, The Bridges of Toko-Ri tells the story of LT Harry Brubaker, a Reservist called to active duty to fly and flight in the Korean war. It's a serious film, one that grapples with the realities of family separation, mortal peril, and profound loyalty that are the weft and warp of naval aviation. The Navy cooperated in its production, granting access to USS ORISKANY and USS KEARSARGE, as well as extensive opportunities to film its mighty F9F-2 Panthers in flight. Its star, William Holden, had a personal link to the material: his late brother, a naval aviator, had given his life in the Pacific.

Pedigrees, however, don't guarantee a great film. The Bridges of Toko-Ri succeeds not because of its authenticity, but because it's a thrilling and gripping tale. It begins in the best possible way, with a helo bubba (played by Mickey Rooney) pulling a jet bubba (Holden) out of the water following an ejection. As a former Navy helo bubba, I could have spent the next ninety minutes watching Rooney rescue people. That's not the way the world works, however: the world cares about jet bubbas.

This particular jet bubba has a beautiful wife (Grace Kelly), two charming daughters, and every reason to get home alive. The Bridges at Toko-Ri is built around the early warning, planning, execution, and aftermath of a mission that puts that eventuality very much in doubt: an airstrike on a cluster of North Korean bridges deemed vital to the war effort. Because the film walks us through all the steps in the runup to and execution of this mission, we in the audience get time to bond with its characters both at sea and ashore. Because the film takes pains to achieve maximum authenticity in its depiction of life afloat and airborne, we get to live vicariously in another world at another time. Because the mission itself is so hazardous, and filmed so well, we get to spend the last half-hour of the film on the edges of our collective seats, rooting for Holden's character to make it back to Grace and the girls.

This is a great film. It's close enough to real life to stand in for historical footage (though the F9F-2 wasn't flown in the Korean War – the filmmakers had to work with what they had). Its characters are compelling enough to make us care about them. Its story is tight enough to keep us on the hook for two hours and reel us in at the climax. The Bridges at Toko-Ri belongs at the top of your queue.

Words and Music

"Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Rodgers and Hart Songbook" is the soundtrack of heaven. I discovered it in the CD collection of a girl I was dating in 1989. I married the girl and, twenty years later, we still have the CD. So when I heard that there was a Rodgers and Hart biopic and that it was pretty doggone good, into the queue it went. I wanted to learn about these guys and their music.

I learned that the music is good, but it’s really the performer who makes it live.

WORDS AND MUSIC follows the Rodgers and Hart career arc, but it's more a retrospective, with moments of story serving mostly to segue between performances by distinguished artists of the day. But here's the problem: in the hands of wrong people, R&H's music goes from smart and sly classics to dated pop. Lena Horne is great and all, but her rendition of “Lady is a Tramp” in the film just can’t stand up to Ella’s on disc. June Allyson’s “Thou Swell” is a wet noodle compared to Nat King Cole’s in “Live at the Sands.” And don’t even get me started on comparisons with Sinatra.

Don’t get me wrong: the movie’s ok, particularly if you’re interested in even a fictionalized biopic of Rodgers and Hart. It’s just that nearly every time someone sang, I found myself comparing the performance with that of a better artist. All things considered, I prefer to remember Rodgers and Hart with the help of Fitzgerald and Cole and Sinatra, not the folks behind this picture.

Night at the Museum

I wanted to hate NIGHT AT THE MUSEUM. I really did. I'm tired of Ben Stiller. I'm tired of Robin Williams. I'm tired of Owen Wilson.

I'm in the process of teaching my spawn theater etiquette, however, and matinees of kids' shows provide a forgiving environment. NIGHT AT THE MUSEUM hooked both of us, much to my surprise, and we had a good time in the theater.

Here's the hook: Ben Stiller's a divorced dad trying to set a good example for his son. He takes a job as the night guard at New York's Museum of Natural History and, as guards Dick Van Dyke and Mickey Rooney (!) already know, the place literally comes alive at night. Personal growth, and the earning of respect in the little tyke's eyes, follow as surely as landings follow takeoffs.

The thing that makes NIGHT AT THE MUSEUM worthwhile isn't the by-the-numbers plot or even the CGI workmanship, however. Stiller carries this movie, bringing a charisma to the project that I thought he'd lost sometime after MYSTERY MEN. He sells the idea of running from a reanimated dinosaur skeleton and brokering peace between the Western and Roman dioramas. He makes the tired routine of winning his child's respect breathe, and he made me interested in his work again.

Then there's another thing: the chance to see Van Dyke and Rooney is a major theatrical relase. In a sense, I felt like I was bringing my child to the museum: "Hey, that's the guy from MARY POPPINS! That other guard is from -well, I'll have to rent something for you. But he's been around nearly as long as talkies!" What a pleasant surprise.

I honestly thought NIGHT AT THE MUSEUM would be an exercise in tedium, useful only for giving my boy a place to practice whispering and not kicking the seat in front of him. Who knew it would come alive, and prove to be such a fun place to hang out?