Well, given the absolutely titanic response that has come regarding my first post, I have decided to press on anyway. Critics were quite diverse in their opinions. I read opinions ranging from “tired” to “overwritten and tired” to “sad and tired” and took those to heart. Obviously the phrase “more articles like this will bring about the apocalypse” was in reference to something off of the HuffPost and was mistakenly left here instead.
Through sheer tyranny of will, I am going to continue to fill up space on the Interwebnet. By proving that I am as hip and with it as the rest of those Internet fillers out there, I shall now start with something that is never done on any other website, blog, email, or just randomly abandoned Word files: a movie review. That’s right. I am taking the big step to be real, relational, and relevant. But which film shall this inaugural review be based on? Something from Bergman or Fellini or Kurosawa? Mayhap something from the rich film catalogues of Scorsese or Spielberg or Stallone? Nay, I shall sally forth and use something out of left field entirely by looking upon a film that is quite fond to me, as my opinion is one of the only ones that matter. This film is of course the magnum opus of 1978: National Lampoon’s Animal House.
I can remember back in the dim dark past of my youth that often my brother and I would be minded at my grandparents’ house during the summer months. And after we had completely exhausted my brother’s reasons to be outside doing sporty things, we would retire to the house for a bit. We then had carte blanche in regards to picking movies to watch from the video library. Even at that young age, we had the wherewithal to avoid the movies that my aunt loved. A more sickening array of romantic “comedies” is hard to find I’ll warrant. (Movie Fan ProTip #1: Any movie with Meg Ryan that isn’t Armed and Dangerous, avoid like the plague. You’ll thank me. Movie Fan ProTip #1.1: I can allow for The Presidio, but only if you promise me you’ll skip over Meg’s parts as much as you can. Concentrate on Sean Connery instead. You’re welcome.)
Going past that collection of supreme banality, our preteen eyes would fall upon the films that made up our youth: Fletch, Fletch Lives, The ‘burbs, and Caddyshack. But wedged in there was yet another comedy that we were far too young to watch at the time, the aforementioned National Lampoon’s Animal House! (See, it all comes together now! And I shall be referencing this film as simply Animal House for the rest of the post because A) no one calls it by the full name and B) National Lampoon put out far too many bad films that smeared its stellar reputation to be given any grace at this point.)
For some reason my grandparents let us watch this movie. Why did they do it? Was it the proper Elmer Bernstein score that lent an air of credibility to the proceedings? Was it the cast headed up by that nice and charming Belushi boy? Did they secretly hope that despite all of the shenanigans we’d end up wanting to be more like the Omegas? I was either around nine or ten years old at the time, my brother younger than that. Yet this film, which does indeed earn its ‘R’ rating, was popped in wholeheartedly whenever my brother and I wanted to watch it. Perhaps they just wanted a well-earned quiet moment from the two massively distracting boys that rampaged through their home. I don’t know and part of me never wants to know as I like the mystery behind the decision. I can’t explain it, but I love them for letting us do it because that anarchic little comedy-that-could wedged itself in my heart from that day forth.
When time came for me to go off to college, I was wondering if my experiences would echo any of the exploits of the Delta fraternity. But when you go to a Not-That-Great-Small-Lutheran-College in the middle of Minnesota, you’ve set yourself up for failure on all counts. A student there thinks more about how to stay warm from the arctic blasts and how to stay alive on the cruel gruel they passed off as “food”. Everybody knows everybody else on the campus; there is no anonymity whatsoever. The college was truly a high school after high school, minus the fun antics of going to high school but plus the fact that you were in Minnesota. Minnesota is taken from the Native American word “Minnesota” which means “No, we’re not kidding, that is all the land has to offer”.
Being a Lutheran campus, the school not only had a faculty of Dean Wormers, but a student body that was made up of them as well. These were people that blanched if they overheard you say a risqué phrase such as “What the hell?” They went pale if you dared to say that you love Monty Python’s Life of Brian. There was no Homecoming parade to ruin. There was no ROTC to drive golf balls towards. There were no fraternities.
The only thing that came close was the drinking on campus, but it was a crew of angry, sports loving drunks, not fun-loving ones. Also there were sexual encounters but, to put it nicely, my campus didn’t have a bevy of Mandy Pepperidges in the woodwork. (To be fair, there wasn’t a romp of Otters either, but as this is from my skewed perspective, I’m passing over that point.)
Time passes and I ensured that I would have a copy of this movie for my very own, first on VHS, then on DVD and then on DVD again, even though the 2nd time on DVD can be accurately called a “cash grab for the studio”. More time passes as days stretch into weeks, weeks stretch into months, months go on a diet and become days again, the days, realizing they are too thin, overreact and become full blown seasons, and so forth. So through just sheer exhaustion of day to day married life with children and a job combined with the arduous and painful experience writing the previous sentence, I wanted to watch something comfortable that I already knew. No surprises, not today thank you very much. Just something familiar will occupy my magical TV tonight. I chose my old friend Animal House and popped it in the player.
It hasn’t aged a day, just like me as I was born the same year the movie came out. The film is as great as when I first witnessed it with my underage eyes. The direction from John Landis is tight, the film wasn’t shot to look like a comedy (which is a plus by the way), the cast of then unknowns shine brightly, Belushi was a comedic star that burned too quickly, Donald Sutherland plays Donald Sutherland and does it very well, and I still get invested in the actual story, which is a rarity for me with any movie coming out in recent years.
The bottom line is that given my college life compared to the one depicted in this movie, I will always prefer to think of Animal House as my college flashback. The shame of it was that not-that-great-college was far more expensive than my purchasing Animal House over the years, even with the multiple formats. I also believe I might have had a better education had I just stuck with rewatching this movie instead of obtaining a degree that has gotten revenue for the company that matted and framed it and that’s about it.
I must make special mention of the late John Vernon as Dean Vernon Wormer. His role is one that could have been played with ham-fisted, scenery-chewing glory. Instead he portrayed a terrific comedic menace, which is incredibly hard. There is a fine line that he had to walk and he did it brilliantly. I always thought that his character got the job as dean after he failed as mayor in Dirty Harry. When placed in that context, it is understandable as to why Dean Wormer was such a prick, but a well-played prick nonetheless.
So what have we learned? We’ve learned that this film still stands out among all other comedies even after this much time has passed. We’ve learned that John Belushi was never better in any other film role. (Yes, even 1941.) Above all else, we’ve learned that no matter what; go to a better college for your education. They have the finances and resources available to make your studies and campus living worthwhile. At the very least when you go and destroy their Homecoming parade in a futile and stupid gesture, the school will actually notice.
