TED: This is the Theme Song from the Movie Octopussy

Ted (Theatrical Cut; 2012) – Directed by Seth McFarlane – Starring Mark Wahlberg, Mila Kunis, Seth McFarlane, Giovanni Ribisi, Joel McHale, Patrick Warburton, Matt Walsh, Jessica Barth, Bill Smitrovich, Ralph Garman, Alex Borstein, Laura Vandervoort, Ryan Reynolds, Sam Jones, Norah Jones, Tom Skerritt, Ted Danson, and Patrick Stewart.

Any movie that shows this much love for Flash Gordon and Octopussy and Fenway Park is going to score points in my book.

That’s not why I like TED, though, as Seth MacFarlane’s first foray into live-action movie making is the kind of movie that if I were 15 I’d watch a billion times. Heck, forget 15. When I was an undergrad at Syracuse, there were a handful of movies we watched over and over again: Dazed and Confused, Searching for Bobby Fischer, whatever Bond movie TBS was showing in their annual marathon. TED is that kind of movie, the kind that I just want to watch on permanent repeat, and it’s not because it’s funny (because it is), but because it’s a really well told story. Truth is, I’d watch it even if I didn’t laugh at it because I don’t really care if comedies are funny, so long as they’re good.

It may sound odd to hear me say that I don’t really care if comedies are funny, but I’m much more interested at this stage in my life in a comedy telling a good story than I am in how many laughs it generates. Certainly, I like to laugh and certainly, I want to laugh at a comedy, but simply stringing a bunch of funny jokes together isn’t really enough for me. If too many of the jokes fall flat, I lose interest and it’s not a movie I’m going to want to come back to over and over again.

That means I’m not going to buy the Blu-ray, Hollywood.

Great comedies like The Hangover, Young Frankenstein, Ghostbusters, and South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut are funny, but they all tell engaging stories, too, and it’s that narrative element that had me worried before seeing TED.

Look, I like Seth MacFarlane. I like The Family Guy and The Cleveland Show and, well, not so much American Dad, but they’re successful more because they do funny bits or create funny situations rather than because of any narrative strength. If one looks closely at these universes, they fall apart, and I largely agree with the infamous Eric Cartman takedown of The Family Guy on South Park where he railed against the show’s style of humor. Cartman discovers that Family Guy is actually written by manatees pushing balls around a fish tank, arguing that MacFarlane’s signature show is often built on weird associations. Unlike Cartman, I can acknowledge that style and still love it, but there’s a huge difference between a 22 minute cartoon and a 106 minute live-action movie.

And yes, I said 106 minutes as Netflix doesn’t send you the unrated version of the movie. If you get TED through them, all you get is the theatrical release, so that’s what I’ve watched. It’s a shameless attempt to get you to buy the Blu-ray.

In this case, it’s worked, though I’m buying that Blu-ray less because of the extra six minutes and more because I dug this movie so much.

How can you not love a film where Norah Jones jokes about f*cking a teddy bear in a closet?

Or maybe that’s just me.

I was so worried I wouldn’t like the film that it actually sat on my counter for over a week before I watched it. I like the idea of TED so much, of a kid’s wish granting life to his stuffed animal which then grows up alongside him, that I thought watching it could only ruin what the film was like in my head, but those fears were totally unfounded as the film was strong from start to finish, with excellent performances from Mark Wahlberg and Mila Kunis as John Bennett and Lori Collins, a couple about to celebrate their four-year anniversary as the film opens. Perhaps as a hedge against his own style to toss innumerable random jokes at the audience, MacFarlane (who also voices Ted) populates TED with a whole host of secondary characters who might get a single joke or two and that’s it. Just when you’ve figured out that the gorgeous blonde in that one scene is Laura Vandervoort (but before you can remember how to spell it), you realize you’ve seen her second and final scene.

TED opens in a winter early in John’s life, and we see he’s the unpopular kid in his neighborhood. His parents get him a huge teddy bear for Christmas, and John makes a wish that the bear was alive so they could be real friends. The wish is granted and John wakes up to find his teddy bear walks and talks and just wants to be his best friend. John’s parents freak out, as one would expect, but Ted wins them over and soon he’s a national celebrity, appearing on covers of magazines and making a guest appearance on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson.

I love this part of the movie for two reasons. The first is that it’s great to see the film build in a backstory that explains why people aren’t always freaking out when a big teddy bear starts walking and talking. We don’t have to get all those silly reactions and watch as everyone adjusts. Everyone already has so we can just get on with the movie. The second reason I love it is that it gives us a chance to hear Patrick Stewart as the narrator being one of the funniest parts of the entire movie.

Stewart’s voice is so rich, so strong, so British, that when he recites something completely inappropriate, it’s extra funny just because of is manner of speaking. “Now if there’s one thing you can be sure of,” he tells us after John makes his wish to bring Ted to life, “it’s that nothing is more powerful than a young boy’s wish. Except an Apache helicopter. An Apache helicopter has machine guns and missiles. It is an unbelievably impressive complement of weaponry, an absolute death machine.” Stewart delivers these lines with such glee that it sets a perfect tone for the film. There’s bits that made me laugh out loud, but mostly TED is just constantly amusing, wonderfully blending real sentiment and absurdity.

At it’s core, of course, TED is a movie about a guy unwilling to embrace the idea of growing up. That he lives with his teddy bear is the primary image of this Peter Pan Syndrome, but he also has a “career” working at a car rental company, smokes pot (with Ted) whenever he can, and is still afraid of thunder. A moment that perfectly blends MacFarlane’s mix of sentimentality and absurdity comes when John and Lori are in bed and a massive thunderclap hits. John freaks out and Ted comes running into the bedroom, shouting, “Thunder buddies for life, right, John?”

“Thunder buddies for life!” Ted yells back as the best friends launch into their “thunder buddy” song.

That scene also perfectly encapsulates the cleverness of TED’s script. This isn’t just a movie about a guy you refuses to grow up and make something more of himself, but it’s also a film about a guy caught between his best friend and the woman he loves.

Mila Kunis is really fantastic in TED as Lori, the girlfriend who’s “too good” for John (according to her friends) but genuinely loves him in spite of all his flaws. She’s got a successful, professional gig and a boss (Joel McHale) who constantly hits on her. Lori isn’t looking to radically change John, but she is looking for him to advance a little. It’s to the film’s credit that Ted is such a real character that when she wants John to tell Ted to move out, we don’t immediately think, “You’re kicking a teddy bear out of your house?” Instead, I was on her side. Ted, after all, greeted John and Lori’s return home with the image of him sitting on a couch with four hookers – one of whom had taken a sh*t on the carpet. That’s not funny (or acceptable) to Lori, but she does think its funny when John drops a massive fart in a bar. Her final straw with John is when she’s understandably furious when he ditches her boss’ party to go hang out with Flash Gordon at Ted’s place.

Ah, Flash.

Or is that … Flash, ah ha!

Yes. Yes, it is.

I knew TED had an appearance from Sam Jones, the actor who played Flash in the classic 1980 movie, but I was unaware at how large a role Sam had. Flash is one of the movies that Ted and John bond over as kids, and it’s Sam’s appearance at Ted’s party that convinces John he has to exit the party at Lori’s boss’ house to go do shots with Jones.

There’s plenty of crude jokes sprinkled throughout the film – plenty of them sexual. Ted is forced to get a job after he moves out of John and Lori’s place and he’s rude at the job interview and then rude once he gets the job, telling his boss how last week he had sex on some asparagus and then sold it. Instead of being horrified, his boss (Bill Smitrovich) keeps promoting him. There’s jokes about sex with Norah Jones (“Thanks for 9/11,” is the most hilariously inappropriate joke of the movie on two levels) and sex without a penis and they often generate the biggest laughs, but it’s the smaller jokes built around John and Lori’s relationship that win me over.

When Lori is out on a date with her boss, Ted gets Norah Jones to allow John to sing a song during her concert at the Hatch Shell in an attempt to win Lori back. The song John sings is a song from the movie they watched the night they met – the theme from Octopussy. John butchers Rita Coolidge’s “All Time High” and the crowd turns on him, booing him offstage. Lori’s boss rips John in the parking lot, but Lori neither joins in mocking John nor runs back to him. It’s small moments like this that help to make the characters in TED feel real – even if they’re a walking, talking, cocaine-snorting teddy bear.

I’ve long stopped looking for the funniest movie ever. I like Hangover II almost as much as The Hangover because I like the characters and because the story’s good, even if it’s not as funny. I really like TED. It’s not the funniest movie ever, but it is funny and I really like hanging out with John, Lori, and Ted. Giovanni Ribisi provides just enough creepiness to give the film a shot of darkness and Mark Wahlberg proves again that while he is definitely not the most wide-ranging actor on the planet (or in whatever room he’s standing in), if you give him a role that plays to his strengths he’s a blast to watch. It all adds up to a very enjoyable film.

Plus, it reminds us we’d all be better off if Patrick Stewart narrated our life story.

I know he allows me to believe in magic.

And Apache helicopters.

SINGLES: I Was Just Nowhere Near Your Neighborhood

Singles (1992) – Directed by Cameron Crowe – Starring Matt Dillon, Bridget Fonda, Kyra Sedgwick, Campbell Scott, Sheila Kelley, Jim True-Frost, Bill Pullman, James LeGros, Ally Walker, Tom Skerritt, Peter Horton, Jeremy Piven, Eric Stoltz, Victor Garber, Paul Giamatti, and Tim Burton.

I kinda love that the message of SINGLES is not just that to find romantic happiness you have to stop being full of sh*t, but that you have to find a partner who’s also willing to stop being full of sh*t.

I was a sophomore at Syracuse when SINGLES was released in the fall of 1992, but as much as I loved Cameron Crowe’s SAY ANYTHING it was the music that initially attracted me to this movie of folks that were dealing with issues that would be coming my way in a few years. Before arriving at SU in August ’91, I was a huge fan of Mother Love Bone’s Apple album, and crushed (as much as high schoolers can be crushed about the death of a musician who had passed before the band’s one album was even released) that the band I had just discovered was already finished. I knew some of the members of Love Bone were forming a new group, but I didn’t know what that group was called. (Remember, kids, this in the pre-internet days.)

I hit the campus record store in the Schine Student Center constantly. We had already heard rumblings (which meant from Rolling Stone or Spin, really) about this new group, Nirvana, that was releasing an album that was going to blow everyone away, but I was more interested in following along with the guys from Mother Love Bone.

I just wish I knew what their new name was.

Flipping through both the CDs and cassettes and looking closely at any group I had never heard of, I found a group called Temple of the Dog. Recognizing that assemblage of words as a lyric from a Love Bone song, I bought the cassette and discovered it was a tribute album, and not the new group. A few days later, I found a cassette from a group called Pearl Jam, which had a sticker on it announcing, “Featuring former members of Mother Love Bone.”

Bought it. Listened to it. Hated it.

So I listened to it, again. Gah. I paid for this?

I distinctly remember I was writing a letter (a letter!) to my pal Chad back home on yellow legal paper, and the need for a soundtrack to my background scribbling is maybe the only reason I listened to it a third time. And this time … this time when the opening guitar chords of “Alive” cranked out of my crummy boom box, it was like looking into the sky, seeing the clouds part, and the hand of Zeus hurl a thunderbolt at you. That riff was transcendent, and opened up the entire album. I listened to Ten over and over and over again. I listened to Ten, Temple of the Dog, and Nevermind so much that year, that my only brush with popularity on the first floor of Marion Hall that year was when people started recognizing me as the guy who was listening to the cool music before it became cool music.

A year later, SINGLES was released and it was the music, not the romance, that drove me to see it.

By the fall of 1992, though, our world had dramatically shifted. It was a weird feeling for those of us that hadn’t been huge fans of the popular music of the day to now find “our” music taking over. When I walked down any of the various Frat/Sorority Rows and heard “my” music pumping out of the buildings that blissfully pumped out whatever music was cool that week, I didn’t know whether to feel happy, sad, or bemused.

A year earlier, when I was the only person at Syracuse I knew that had the album, I’d gone to a Red Hot Chili Peppers concert at the Landmark Theater in downtown Syracuse, where Pearl Jam was the opening act for the opening act (Smashing Pumpkins). Hardly anyone was in their seats when Pearl Jam took the stage, but me and Nate (who’d bussed over from Utica) had made damn sure we were there because we’d come to see Pearl Jam. As their 30-minute set unfolded, you could see people getting excited about this group most of them had never heard of before that night. (Pearl Jam’s name isn’t even on the ticket.) It was one of the few times I can ever remember being in a place where buzz was being born.

When SINGLES was released, however, words like “grunge” and “flannel” were becoming part of the cool crowd’s vernacular, and those of us who were there before the buzz were confronted with a new question of what to do: stay true to the music we had been championing, or admit that, on some level, our dislike for the popular music of our high school days was linked with our being not part of the cool crowd.

Without being overtly about this particular question of self-identity, SINGLES is full of people navigating their private vs. public selves, with the public self always some altered version of the private, true self. Crowe revolves these questions of self identity around relationships, specifically the relationship between young professionals Steve and Linda (Campbell Scott and Kyra Sedgwick) and struggling dreamers Janet and Cliff (Bridget Fonda and Matt Dillon). There are friends of these four characters to help round out the various approaches to love, but these are the relationships at the center of the film.

Crowe sends these two relationships on opposing arcs. As the film opens, Janet and Cliff are ostensibly seeing each other, though Janet believes them to be in a committed relationship, and Cliff believes Janet to be one of the multiple women he sees. Janet is in love with Cliff and Cliff is in love with his dream of being a rock star, casting their relationship as one part tragedy and one part comedy. Full of bubbly positivity, Janet is that achingly cute friend we all had in college going out with the total doucebag. If SINGLES were remade today, she would undoubtedly be recast as a hipster, so let’s all take a moment to thank our deity of choice (as an agnostic, I will thank the sun, Cherry Coke Zero, and Kate Beckinsale in a catsuit) that SINGLES was made pre-hipster.

There’s a tragic aspect to Janet, too, of course. Stuck in that liminal state between girlish fantasy and grown-up realism, Janet has to realize that Cliff sees other women, but refuses to acknowledge it during the first half of the movie. Confronted by Cliff’s statement about seeing other women, she just smiles warmly and awkwardly, and keeps pushing forward with her fantasy that they’re a couple. When Janet has a rare moment of confrontation with Cliff, it leads to one of the more honest and perfect moments in the film.

“Are my breasts too small?” she asks Cliff.

“Sometimes,” he admits.

This admission spurs Janet to seek breast enlargement surgery, where she meets plastic surgeon Jeffrey Jamison (Bill Pullman). On the day of her surgery, Dr. Jamison breaks down and admits that he doesn’t want to perform the surgery because Janet is perfect just as she is. As the stand-in for nice guys, Jamison is awkward around women despite operating on them every day. “I’m thirty-three years old,” he laments, “and I don’t know how to have fun.” If SINGLES were a two hour movie instead of 90 minutes, Jamison and Janet would probably go on a date before things inevitably work out with Cliff, but Crowe thankfully saves us this subplot. Instead, Janet eschews the surgery and breaks up with Cliff, gaining a bit of independence, and taking a step towards adulthood and away from her fantasies.

The other relationship involves Steve and Linda. Steve is looking for a new relationship, but Linda is hesitant, having just been worked over by a guy pretending to a university student whose visa is about to run out. They spend a week or so together before consummating their relationship the night before he has to return home to Spain, but then on her next night out, Linda sees him hitting on someone else. She’s crushed and in no mood to jump into a new relationship, but after rejecting Steve’s advances, they run into each other at a newsstand and away they go, struggling with the idea of being in a relationship with one another. When Steve and Linda are simply together, they’re fine, but when they start thinking about themselves not only as a couple, but as the (hopefully) eternal couple, they over-think their situation.

SINGLES does a really nice job of keeping everything moving and the film works as an American antecedent to the Richard Curtis-styled British romantic comedies. Crowe does a good job keeping things light, and the storytelling technique of having characters speak to the camera on occasion works really nicely. Steve talks to the camera near the beginning of the film, Janet gets her turn a bit later, and then Cliff becomes the mature voice of reason late in the film. All of them are smarter than their in-world cinematic versions, which suggests the entire artifice of the faces we put on to impress other people.

While neither deep nor moving, SINGLES manages to be a tasty snack of a romantic comedy. There’s a bunch of “Hey, is that ____?!?” cameos from Paul Giamatti, Victor Garber, Eric Stoltz, and Tim Burton that are always nice to see, but the success of the film is really thanks to the four leads and Crowe’s breezy, quotable script. The message of the film makes a good answer to all that angst me and my fellow Gen-Xers were feeling back in the early ’90s – just stop being so full of sh*t and go after the things that you want, not the things you think you’re supposed to want.