The Quest Continues: The Blockbuster Jams Of 1998

I'm so weary about 1998. I mean, the purpose of this Quest for the Single Finest Film of Our Generation is to find the film whose nostalgia value equals its current re-watch value. These two requirements (nevermind the fact that the Quest officially ended months ago with Home Alone ultimately clinching the title, thanks to your votes) coupled in my mind with the films of 1998, a year when most of us started legally driving cars, either with or without parental supervision. This is a significant year (don't worry, we'll go back to the 80s next month, or you can vote for 1988 here, but I must air these grievances before they make my head explode) because either movies started sucking entertainment value-wise or my brain started idiotically maturing and craving pretentious artsy stuff. Case in point: Saving Private Ryan, A Bug's Life, The Waterboy, and Doctor Dolittle. These four films, all top ten box office grossers for the year in question, all sucked (full disclosure: I never saw A Bug's Life). Sure I gobbled up Spielberg's war epic like everyone else, but I don't think I ever had a desire to see it again or talk about the suspense-riddled battle sequences. Other than that though, I did not enjoy my time at the theater for any of these films. However, I was able to find five films in the top ten that did tickle my proverbial cinema pickle that year, and they are laid out (vote for your fave!) below...

Armageddon: My admiration for this atrocious film proves that I was not as smart as I wanted to be as a 15-year-old, and thus suggests that 1998 does deserve to be a year included on the journey of the Quest (redundant?) as I originally thought (1998 was considered in my original post that kicked off the Quest, but ultimately ignored as the Quest dwindled to its first close). Where's the proof? Well two things come to mind: 1) I once cried at the ending, when the courageous Bruce Willis gave his life so his daughter Liv Tyler could marry Ben Affleck (paging Dr. Freud) as I viewed it for the third or fourth time while sick from school my junior or possibly even senior year, and 2) it was presented in my first college film study class as "the worst movie ever made" with a lot of good arguments made, including the fact that no shot lasts for more than 2-3 seconds, providing a launchpad for the ADD generation that was to follow. Too bad that just made me like the film more. Thus, my official vote goes to Armageddon.

There's Something About Mary: I won't lie. I absolutely loved my first time seeing this movie. Saw it with my brother at the hometown theater on a hot summer weekday afternoon when there were approximately six other people in attendance. The movie had been out for a while at that point and I was excited to finally see that movie that critics both acclaimed and called "gross" simultaneously. A rare treat for teen film dweeb boys. Upon my first viewing (which I'm emphasizing multiple times here on purpose) I was geeking out alongside my brother at all the disgusting gags that (deservedly or undeservedly is up for debate) the Farrelly brothers got away with. That said, upon repeat viewings the only thing that stands up is the Brett Favre joke and Jonathan Richman as the town troubadour. Other than that, it's a big mess of a movie, lacking sympathetic characters and timeless humor, especially because it's the sad kind of funny that can easily get one-upped a couple years later by the next "breakout comedy" - cough cough The Hangover.

Rush Hour: Okay, get over it. I remember vaguely liking Rush Hour when I first saw it. I was one of those pre-teens that went to see those dubbed Jackie Chan movies, so when he finally got a starring role in a big-budget English-language flick, I was interested. Also, Chris Tucker's portrayal of DJ Ruby Rhod in The Fifth Element is one of my favorite performance of all time; nostalgia doesn't even play a factor in that decision. So I just assumed I would think Rush Hour was a hilarious buddy action flick reviving the great tradition of Lethal Weapon or Beverly Hills Cop. Well, I was wrong, and I was also very wrong. But this grand illusion in my 15-year-old brain at least held strong through 1998, and I still have guiltily fond memories of the racist "Do you hear the words that are coming out of my mouth?"-type moments as Chan and Tucker glazed through an uber-mediocre script and came out as two of the worst contributors to late-90s cinema. They shall never be forgiven. [Prediction: Tucker wins an Oscar in 2019.]

Deep Impact: Even as I google image search Deep Impact I swear some of the results are stills from Armageddon. It's too bad because while it doesn't have the laugh-a-minute re-watch value of its more successful competitor, as recent as two-ish years ago I probably would have told you it's the better movie. And in many ways, it is. It's more thoughtful (even if it's equally as saccharine), it's less tacky (even if its emotional manipulations are just as gaudy), and it has freaking Morgan Freeman as president. All that aside, I don't remember anything about this movie and I think I only watched it one additional time when it came out on video. However, I do remember being more touched by it (rather than, say, exclaiming "hellz yeah Amerika!" in my head) than its more brutal and star-studded counterpart.

Godzilla: This is a very bad movie. Very bad. I remember watching it on video a few times when putting together a music video project for my high school Radio & TV class (showing the Chrysler building exploding to stupidly 'symbolize' the lyric "A man drives a plane into the Chrysler building" from Soul Coughing's "Is Chicago, Is Not Chicago") and thinking to myself, I wish this was just a movie about Matthew Broderick's character, and no big monster destroying New York City. On the same token, it was the big event movie of the year and it was also the death knell of big event movies for the next couple years. In that way, it was kind of important I guess? Roland Emmerich went to the ends of the earth special effects-wise (oh the soundtrack too was a sort of death knell of event movie soundtracks, with the Puff Daddy rap over Led Zep's "Kashmir") and still came up short. Nevertheless, I remember being entertained in the theater much in the same way I was during Rush Hour and only harbor minor ill will toward it. As a blooming pretentious kid, I also thought the fact that two characters bearing the resemblance/nomenclature of Siskel and Ebert was clever at the time, although now I just see it as mean-spirited.

The Quest Continues: The Films Of 1988

So here's where things start getting tricky. I only believe I saw two of the films below in the movie theater. But the other three were such monumental staples in my cable TV watching habits as young 'un that they deserve the extended nomination as well. On the outset of the chosen five of the top box office champs of 1988 are two films that I did indeed watch without much concentration one or twice some rainy afternoon: Twins and Rain Man. I believe they deserve mention here, because some of you out there might want to make an argument for them. I do not. Judge Wapner and hilarious mix-ups at birth never tickled my fancy. But if they did for you, let it be heard. For now, let's look at my personal suggestions for the first round of standouts from 1988, after a particular stinging defeat of Honey I Shrunk The Kids by Indiana Jones And The Last Crusade. What will join the ranks of the classic Harrison Ford and Sean Connery team-up vehicle? Let's take a look-see...

Who Framed Roger Rabbit?: As usual, let's start with what gets my vote. Let's face it. Not only was this revolutionary (though can it really be called revolutionary when the only movie that tried to follow in its wake were Cool World?) piece of cinema the original Avatar, where people oohed and ahhhed at something newfangled that the technology of the movies brought to our eyeballs, but gosh darnit, this movie has a great story behind it too, unlike the other. Bob Hoskins proved he could carry a film (though it would be his last time) as a rather dark alcoholic anti-hero (to think I was watching glimpses of film noir when I was only five!) and Christopher Lloyd proved he could be one of the scariest villains ever (my stomach still reels at the thought of that shoe being lowered into that vat of cartoon-killing acid!) and in between them both were layers and layers of intrigue and mystery. Man I wanna watch this right now! Which is exactly the kind of feeling that should be considered most when voting for The Quest.

Coming To America: Then again, we shouldn't just ignore the power of TBS. The network had a profound effect on me as a child, introducing me to the gargantuan subgenre that is the 1980s adult comedy. And yes, the film was largely neutered to the point of inanity, but that's where the video store came in handy. You'd see a film like Eddie Murphy's Coming To America, the first of his movies (by the way) to feature the man playing multiple characters, a motif that America would love for years to come (often, if not always, with little to no reason), and you'd giggle at the way the main characters smiled and didn't understand the ways of the modern world (because he was from Africa, you see, where people talk funny and marvel at consumerist conveniences), but it seemed so harmless. Then you got your mom or your friend's mom to rent the unedited version from Blockbuster for you so you could see the boobs. Double-score!

Big: I think this was more often seen on TNT, often alongside Turner & Hooch (which I hope will be covered at some point during The Quest). Now I've always appreciated the whimsical fancy of Big just as much as the next guy, but I was never really bowled over by it. Even to pre-teen me, I just always found the story and its execution so...vanilla. There's was nothing outstanding to it, nor was there anything particularly unappealing about it either, but it was just there. The FAO Schwartz scene is memorable, yes, as is the jumping-on-the-bed-as-an-adult revelation (I continue to do this at every hotel I frequent to this day), but other than that, Tom Hanks and Penny Marshall seemingly teamed up for a simple, serviceable parable that would attract parents and their kids simultaneously, and for that, it's an admirable business achievement. It's just that it's almost so universal of a tale that it gets bogged down in its lack of definable personal connection. That said, I would love to revisit this in a non-casual non-cable-on-a-laundry-day setting someday to properly evaluate it.

Crocodile Dundee II: Yup, this was one of the highest grossing movies of 1988. And yes, I saw it. In the theaters. Twice. Both with my mom. I was five! Once when it first came out (the original Dundee was a favorite of my dad's, apparently, right next to his favorite film, Das Boot - what a weird spectrum of movie-loving, huh? - so I think we kind of went just out of solidarity for my dad's taste in movies) and another when it was at the second-run Budget Cinemas. I remember busting a gut ten times over...both times. I remember my mom busting a gut ten times over...both times. I don't remember a single thing except for Paul Hogan's leathery tan. Do I ever want to see this movie again? I don't think so, but I wouldn't change the channel if I came across it.

Die Hard: I remember getting little to no echoed sentiments re: Die Hard With A Vengeance after the ill-fated 1995 entry of The Quest, so it is with much trepidation that I even bring up the original here. But by Jove, this little flick (so much more so than any of its successors that it's almost ridiculous) should be viewed at least five times by anyone wishing to call themselves a fan of the bloated American action film. It's such a simple premise (skyscraper held hostage, down-on-his-luck detective has to save the day) that has been done over hundreds of times by now, but none has equaled its brutality, its balance of humor and terror, or its layers upon layers of potential film geek analysis of how Hollywood peaked at its representation of American/foreign economic relations in the 1980s with this movie (sorry, CSCL 1920 is still the best class I ever took!). John McClane is the action genre's most lovable eff-up and Alan Rickman's Hans Gruber still tops the list of best action villains. Yippe-kay-ay, motherlovers!

The Quest Continues: 1989, Or The Year Before The Beginning

What's that, you say? You thought The Quest For the Single Finest Film of Our Generation was over? Well, think again. I just couldn't let go of what quite possibly was the highlight of my 2009 blogging year; I had to bastardize it into an ongoing series. Kinda like when they tried to make a television show out of The Crow. Remember that? Yuck. Ooh, though that move might get a mention when and if we come back around to 1994. You see, what I'm planning to do is just explore years both left undiscussed during the original Quest and those that brim with possible nominees. But we're no longer searching for one particular film to define our ear of cinema adoration. No, we are simply marauding through the ocean of films that in some way helped shape our youth, dropping anchor every month or so to say, "hey! that movie was a blast to watch when I was 10 because ____." If it feels like I'm cheapening the original journey, I'm sorry, but there's just too many pieces of nostalgia to cover in one five-month blogging feature, as ridiculous as that sounds. So once again, I'm going to start with the biggest box office successes of each year I talk about, and work my way down if I come back to that year. Let us start with 1989. Vote for your favorite of the five in the comments and we'll either pretend it will mean something later or if I get ambitious and there's a lot of participation, I'll do another tournament-style face-off of the ten winners after we go through ten more posts!

Batman: My first memory of this film is fuzzy at best. I remember Batman Returns a lot more vividly as it freaked the bazonkers out of me in the theater and as I still maintain to this day that it's Tim Burton's most fully realized fantasy (and should have quit attempting to recreate that for years to come). But other than Jack Nicholson as The Joker, nothing really stands out to me about the original Batman, to be completely honest. But despite Heath Ledger's recent one-upsmanship of the character, up until then I think we can all agree, that Nicholson was the center of attention in this film as well. Let's admit it; Ledger outdid him simply by the fact that he doesn't act like The Joker in public or in other films, whereas Nicholson does, admittedly often to the point of obnoxiousness. But between the years of 1989 and 2007, Nicholson's already solidified persona combined with the mythical excitement of a character like The Joker inside a mainstream flick with flashes of an iconic style that Burton was in the midst of developing is what I believe sparked the Batman character film craze in the first place. Which is prolly pretty important.
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade: I'm going to be honest - I had much better memories of the Indiana Jones series in general before Crystal Skull was unleashed upon us, including an exciting recollection of Temple of Doom. Revisiting all three films in preparation for the fourth's release was probably one of the lamer things I've done in recent years. Raiders still has a little appeal because it started the whole thing and the most famous feats of adventure sequences were in the original, I finally realized why Temple was a joke to most people, and watching Indy and his dad bicker back and forth was entertaining for all of the first 20 minutes of Crusade and that's it. I thought the familial relationship and the sentimental-yet-suspenseful Holy Grail ending made this movie especially memorable not more than a year-and-a-half ago, but Spielberg's half-assed foray back into the legendary character completely ruined all that. Well, maybe I should thank him, otherwise I would have gone on thinking these movies would still be fun to watch 15-20 years later. They're not, and it's sad. But we must move on.

Lethal Weapon 2: Now here's what I'm afraid of. Richard Donner comes out of retirement (oops, my bad, he made 16 Blocks in 2006 starring Bruce Willis as Riggs and Mos Def as Murtaugh) thinking that the Lethal Weapon franchise needs a reboot. Only this time it's not too amiable and arguably talented people like Willis and Def, it's hot young things like Chris Pine and Nick Cannon. Oh how my heart would break. But, at the same time, I would also certainly put myself through a marathon of the original buddy cop movie trilogy (maybe even Lethal Weapon 4 if I found the gall) as I eagerly anticipated the return of the famed line "I'm gettin' too old for this shit!" I am deathly afraid that if this happened, we would have a repeat of the Indiana Jones fiasco. I'm particularly fearful because I cannot tell the difference between any of the first three other than the fact that I know Pesci isn't in the first one. On the other hand, in my head, they're all awesome, full of bomb diffusing, random shootouts, and hilarious quips between two best friends, one of which is the lovable family man and the other the archetypal depressed rogue agent, who inspired everyone from Jack Bauer to Mike Lowery (that's a Bad Boys reference!).

Look Who's Talking: A baby that talks. Voiced by Bruce Willis. And if that doesn't drive you away - his parents are John Travolta and Kirstie Alley. Still interested? Really? Interested enough that not only will you help make the #4 grossing film of its year but also your $4 evening ticket (srsly, isn't THAT depressing?) will go directly toward inspiring TriStar picture to greenlight not one but TWO sequels, the first of which will also feature a baby voiced by Roseanne, and the second of which will feature talking DOGS. Mega-sigh. I deeply regret, America, that my mom and I contributed to the disease known as the Look Who's Talking trilogy not once, not twice, but THRICE. Wow I sure am CAPITALIZING a lot of words in this paragraph! Maybe I'm pissed because this film made almost six times as much money as Sex, Lies, and Videotape that year, or maybe it's because I actually remember laughing hysterically while also being disturbed by the idea of talking sperm along with my mother, but mostly I just think it's because this movie and its sequels plague my memory more so than any of the other movies nominated here, except...

Honey, I Shrunk the Kids: Thank God for Rick Moranis. That's all I have to say. Well, no, it's not, but that's just an expression anyway, right? This is my official vote for this bank of five nominees for 1989. The giant lego, the giant oreo, the giant ant (I shed tears when he passed, SPOILER ALERT), and more all contributed to this being one of, if not the most, eye-widening and deeply entrancing fantasy worlds of my youth. I still remember sitting in that Hartford, Connecticut movie theater and straining my neck to fully take in the enormity of the entire backyard as our protagonists traversed it, inch by adventurous inch (much like how it feels in general for a child in a movie theater full of gigantic figures and special effects, I might add), back into the arms of their parents. Out of all the movies discussed herein, this is the one that I have the most urge to fire back in the DVD player and enjoy with everyone from start to finish, reliving all those glorious moments of mind-boggling absurdity and harrowing escapism. I think I could definitely get back into that groove with ease. Anyone up for trying this one out again with me?

The Quest For The Single Finest Film of Our Generation.

[Cue "The Final Countdown".] Ladies and gentlemen, we are here today to pay special tribute to the films of 1990-1997. Over the course of the past four months, we have discussed together choice box office blockbusters of this particular time period that we do not hold a special place for in our hearts because they are fine works of art, but rather because they are spectacles of the soul. Many may argue about the value in trying to recapture, re-document, or even understand the past, but everyone I believe can agree that the vivacity of nostalgia, the bold currents of electricity that jolt our minds into tizzies of wonder with the thought of a pleasant memory, is strong enough to at least tempt us. And succeed it shall in its temptation, for what other purpose does a pop culture blog hold than to celebrate a life of appreciating the stories that bound us together as a universe of awkward adolescents, the special effects that wowed us with awe, or the sentimental heart string-pulling that let us know emotions could be felt in the safety of a large dark air-conditioned room? Now it is your final task, if you so choose, to declare one of the ten final nominees below as the Single Finest Film of Our Generation in the comments. I bid you good luck and Godspeed, and hope we meet again, in future attempts to hold in our minds (if only for a moment) the unadulterated joy of entertainment cinema...

Home Alone (1990): In an attempt to not repeat myself and also because there's fricking ten movies to talk about here, these blurbs will be short and sweet. Click the title links to revisit the post from which the nomination was originally made. In many ways, it's appropriate that our first nominee on this cumbersome (but totally necessary) list of ten is the famous Macaulay Culkin vehicle. Foremost, I think we all found such a strong connection to the misadventures of solitude that Kevin McCallister endured in 1990. Just like our protagonist did not fully understand the consequences of a life of loneliness until he experienced it firsthand, we only fully immersed ourselves in ultimate fantasy fulfillment when we witnessed the child without the parents, the boy without the adults, alone in our own little world of escapism in that movie theater during the holiday season.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (1990): Pushed in by a one DoktorPeace (and rightfully so) during the last-minute wild card round. I believe I originally claimed it ineligible due to what I remember being an astonishing amount of artfulness for a movie about anthropomorphic amphibians. And while that deduction still rings true, it does not preclude the very true fact that it is indeed still a movie about naked 14-year-old turtles whose fetishes include early-90s surfer slang, a killer combo of pepperoni and extra cheese, and Judith Hoag (a veritable human hottie). Arbitrary art vs. entertainment debate aside, the original TMNT does indeed deserve proper consideration for your vote because not only is it the quintessential action figure/cartoon/comic book adaptation from our youth, but because as much as we were amused and fueled by little boy testosterone to watch it umpteen times, in its quite literal interpretive translation, there was a turtle living in a sewer, trying to do good, in all of us. Some of us were natural leaders, some of us were tantrum-prone jerks, some of us were goofy class clowns, and some of us were...uhh...Donatello. But the one thing we all had in common? We had yet to become accepted by surface-dwelling adults who had shed their shells long ago.

Point Break (1991): Okay, so forget the whole "brief" thing. I'm just gonna write what I want. Deal with it. Moving on, I'll be honest. Point Break is the only movie on this list of ten that I did not see in the theater when it came out. I didn't see an R-rated movie in the theater until The Crow in 1994 with my brother posing as my "legal guardian." But he was also my gateway into the world of screen violence (and as he told me early on, "the mandatory sex scene") present in the glorious universe of Restricted cinema on home video. The Keanu/Swayze surfing bank robbers action bromance had no resonant emotional connection to the younger, more impressionable version of myself like the aforementioned films, but its ability to morph throughout the years in different capacities of "entertainment" should be noted and considered, as it very well may have been the first 90s action film to successfully retain its seriousness while simultaneously becoming 100% unserious 17 years later.

The Mighty Ducks (1992): You guys voted for this one; not me. I held steadfastly on the strength of Encino Man, and while my ardor for that film has diminished, I can still firmly say that if I had to eliminate one nominee from this otherwise practically flawless list of ten, this would be the one. I'm sorry, folks, I know many of you wear your love for Emilio and his gang of misfits on your sleeves, but I have to be honest here. I only offered up TMD as a possibility in the first place because I felt some kind of vague obligation to do so, like I would be banished from Childhood Film Recollection Club if I had left it off the table for discussion. Did it instill some kind of underdog belief system in so many of us at such an influential age that to leave it in the past would be some kind of heinous act against our own code of ethics? Possibly. Or maybe it's just that it really is the perfect "buck up, nerd!" story of our youth and to deny its supremacy is to deny our own former selves. Maybe.

Jurassic Park (1993): I think we all know it sticks out like a sore thumb, and unlike my dissent of the only film to inspire a professional sports team name, I can speak to little to no ill of the one, the only JP. I, like so many others, had been fascinated by all things dinosaur years prior to Spielberg's stab at the subject, so much so that one of my mom's favorite stories is when our priest asked me once "do you have any questions about what you're learning in Sunday School?" and I responded, "no, but why did God kill off the dinosaurs?" I don't think he answered my question, but I knew the answer some years later when I sat in a sold-out theater, mouth agape with Milk Dud residue on my teeth, scared out of my wits that Newman would get eaten by those oil-spitting creatures. If God didn't kill the dinosaurs, we wouldn't have Jurassic Park eons later. And thus, for a brief moment in time, the cinema became a twisted house of prayer.

Speed (1994): For everything Point Break did for the action genre three years earlier, Speed arguably did better only three years later. So much so that, as Qualler has pointed out, it may even transcend entertainment value and head into downright art territory. But we can't dwell on this kind of nonsense too long. The truth of the matter is that Speed is possibly in my opinion, Jurassic Park included, the only film on this list with infinite re-watch power. Its distinct three gimmicky acts (elevator, bus, subway) are so meticulously crafted with such an endless supply of taut tension combined with the dopey heroism of Keanu, the manic obnoxiousness of Sandra Bullock, and the crazed villainy of Dennis Hopper that its magnetism is impossible to deny, much less quantify. It was childish and kooky enough to wrap me into its tentacles of velocity and intensity, but also masterful enough in its ridiculousness to admire as an adult, and hopefully, for years to come.

Batman Forever (1995): The second and final last-minute addition to the list of nominees due to a well-justified double-vote in the wild card round. Bravo and kudos to Unspar and Qualler for their incredibly thoughtful cases presented in favor of including the death of the greatest superhero franchise ever began into the Quest. They opened my eyes to understanding, nay, appreciating, what was once viewed by many (present company included) one of the worst pockmarks on the history of American cinema (which in my experience, included only the films of the 90s, and some from the 80s). It is, still, without a doubt, one of the most heartbreaking memories of all time, going to see Batman Forever on opening day, waiting in line, and hearing some jackass say "Batman dies in the end!" as he leaves the theater. Possibly more heartbreaking? Batnipples. But as Unspar points out in his comment nomination, the very reasons Batman Forever seemed so terrible back in the day are what make it so appealing to revisit again today.

Bad Boys (1995): Okay, so screw you guys. I know it has no chance whatsoever at winning, and would inevitably place last if these ten films were ranked amongst us all. And I know I threw a little bit of a hissy fit when seemingly no one besides myself had even seen the should-be infamous buddy action flick starring Will Smith and Martin Lawrence during the original Quest of 1995. And I know no one should really be exulting and waxing nostalgic about the film that catapulted Jerry Bruckheimer and Michael Bay into Hollyweird's spotlight. And I know it's just a watered down version of 48 Hours, the Lethal Weapon series, and Beverly Hills Cop, all of which are B-grade action flicks from the 80s. But C'MON! This was MY watered down buddy action flick starring former sitcom actors with hyper-stylized editing and flashy gunfights and subpar quips only made notable by the volume and density of cuss words delivered by Smith and Lawrence's characters. I mean, seriously, C'MON! Where WERE you people in 1995?!

Independence Day (1996): It wanted to be the event of the decade so bad that it practically willed itself into being such. If Will Smith didn't get his just desserts a year earlier in a drug bust/machismo cop flick, he surely did as the dude with an underdeveloped bromance with Harry Connick, Jr. and a knack for punching squid aliens directly in the face. Basically this, Vivica A. Fox's dog somehow jumping out of the path of a booming city-wide fireball at the last second, and Bill Pullman's "thinking face" remain the most memorable points of this generation-defining film, even after dozens and dozens of viewings. A less thoughtful me would vote ID4 with unyielding enthusiasm and blind joy, but upon further inspection, while it is and forever will be a high point of my movie-going youth, it by no means is a masterpiece, either in the moment, or in retrospect. But then again, maybe that's exactly what makes it the Single Finest Film of Our Generation? [Slight pause.] Naw.

I Know What You Did Last Summer (1997): And once again, if these films were ranked, as we faded from the glory of pure movie enjoyment in this final year post-ID4 apex, Kevin Williamson's prime example of "coattail cinema" would surely be toward the bottom, just above the film that no one besides me saw during the 90s. Was the slasher boom of the late 90s that followed this formulaic yet admittedly satisfying both terrible and awesome? Surely. Can the source that it's attributed truly be the Single Finest Film of Our Generation? Surely not. As we officially became teenagers as the teenagers of this film got killed off one by one, we as well died a little on the inside as we came to coat a new lens of film appreciation and analysis over our eyes, so as a turning point, IKWYDLS is the perfect transition piece. But like the falling action of every movie's plot, the falling action of our most viciously vivid love with the silver screen is not as notable or enjoyable, but is necessary. So thank you Mr. Williamson, for partaking in our journey through the years; be proud enough to be the man that killed our youth and let us enter into a new dark and scary world of endlessly trying to recreate our salad days.

"So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past." -F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

The Quest of the Wild Card: The Single Finest Film of Our Generation?

We have traversed through booby trap-laden hallways. We have skated swiftly on the ice of Midwestern team spirit. We have surfed vehemently into epic crashing waves and Presidential-themed bank robberies gone awry. We have journeyed amongst majestic prehistoric creatures and Jeff Goldblum's sweeping neuroses. We have driven wildly past the heart of danger that is the Los Angeles freeway and entered the chasm of terror known as Dennis Hopper's maniacal laugh. We have battled notoriously against extraterrestrial invaders of our planet with the help of a truly Fresh Prince and other, more forgettable menfolk. And most recently, and almost certainly most benignly, we have been slashed and hooked amidst supple teen flesh on the docks of a pleasantly generic upper-middle-class seaside American town. The Quest for the Single Finest Film of Our Generation, my friends, is nearly over. Here are your finalists...

Home Alone, The Mighty Ducks, Point Break, Jurassic Park, Speed, Independence Day, and I Know What You Did Last Summer

Think hard. Think deeply. Use the gut and whimsy that led you to so many ill-fated but eternally nostalgic decisions from your youth to ponder over the next two weeks your number one from this group of fine fine films. Because, in the end, only one can be the finest. Only one can outrank all other films (as narrowed down by me) from our glory days of cinema (as determined by me). Yes, I seem to have usurped much power from this process, but thus, my friends, is the beauty of democracy. I use you as my pawns to determine my own feelings about my childhood. Hopefully you can find some blah blah blah to help you understand your own past love for cinematic blah blah, but ultimately, I think we all know this Quest is as personal as it is universal, if not more so. So, let me use you, and allow these two weeks to help you in some way identify your own number one theatrical high from your youth. What grabbed you by the balls/uterus and didn't let go upon that first viewing, only to find years later that that pure childlike wonder not only translates to an enjoyable viewing in your twenties, but also makes for a fine laugh-out-loud rebuke of past tastes and treasures. What brings you to a Road House-esque level of bewilderment and riotous raucous that adolescents from the 80s certainly experienced?

But before you answer that on November 10th, there is another, more treacherous element of democracy that we indeed must consider as well. The Wild Card. As your benevolent dictator of cinema nostalgia, I must at least let you grovel for a bit until the final voting period opens up. So let this be your forum. What films from your youth signify not only a time and place in which your tastes were unbound by artfulness or intelligence, but also now represent a conscious shift in movie enjoyment? What cinema treasure beckons you to find its curious entertainment value all over again 11-19 years-ish later, only to be rejoiced with crowded apartment viewing featuring snide comments and snobbish laughter? The joy is still there for me when watching these movies, it just manifest itself in a new and exciting way, equally as relentless, but magnified through a different lens. You are by no means required to follow my convoluted mess of rules when nominating Wild Card candidates, but in case you're curious, here are my guidelines once again...

-Released between 1990-1997, the most vividly joyous years of adolescent cinema-viewing, in my estimation
-Must be in the Top 50 of the Box Office for its year, to satisfy the argument of universal cultural relevance
-Must have been viewed at least three times during the years in question, plus at least a desire to rewatch again as an adult must be prevalent
-The first viewing(s) must be concrete nostalgic memories of epic proportion, constituting an impactful childhood movie-going/renting experience
-Cannot be genuinely good, meaning the emotions derived and artfulness learned from said film in one's youth cannot be directly similar to the emotions derived from or artfulness appreciated from viewing as an adult

Let the Wild Card ranting begin! Fill the comments with the films that have not been mentioned that you would like to make one final argument for including the final nominations. I will choose between 1-3 of the best arguments (or most backed up, so second someone else if you agree with them) from the comments section to add to the current list of seven. Here are some examples that have come up throughout the Quest to start you off...

Mrs. Doubtfire, Free Willy, Under Siege, Little Big League, Dave, Sleepless in Seattle, Rookie of the Year, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, The American President, Apollo 13, French Kiss, Now and Then, Mallrats, Sneakers, The Fifth Element (begrudgingly)

And some others grabbed from Googling the Box Office receipts for 1990-1997...

Ghost, Total Recall, Kindergarten Cop, Flatliners, Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, City Slickers, The Addams Family, Father of the Bride, Backdraft, Hot Shots!, Lethal Weapon 3, Sister Act, A League of Their Own, Patriot Games, Honey I Blew Up the Kid, Cliffhanger, Cop and a Half, The Three Musketeers, The Santa Clause, The Flintstones, Clear and Present Danger, The Mask, Maverick, Batman Forever, Casper, Waterworld, Species, Mission: Impossible, The Rock, The Nutty Professor, Phenomenon, Eraser, Men in Black, Liar Liar, Conspiracy Theory, Dante's Peak, Anaconda

The Quest of 1997: The Single Finest Film of Our Generation?

Here it is, folks. The last official round of voting for determining the final nominees for the Single Finest Film of Our Generation. Yes, I will post a quick Wild Card round post next week touching on all the random flicks from 1990-1997 that I missed during my initial aggregation of contenders and/or have been nominated by you, the readers, at some point in the comments section, but other than that, this is it. Then, on November 10th, we will find ourselves with a winner from the following list of eligible films (plus two): Independence Day, Speed, Jurassic Park, The Mighty Ducks, Point Break, and Home Alone. It'll almost be as confusing as having eight (much less ten!) Best Picture nominees. Whoa, that just gave me an idea. What if there was an All-Time Oscars? Or even just a Decade Oscars? That would be awesome. Anyway, enough of that. The nods for the least nostalgic year and/or the year where our intense love for the cinema dominated and sometimes overly influenced our tastes as adolescents for approximately the last time, go to...

Air Force One: I ran out to the mailbox to get my hands on it, as I did every week. I thumbed straight through to the movie review section. Yes, it was true. Entertainment Weekly gave the Harrison Ford-as-president movie an A. I still remember what that issue felt like in my hands when, for the first time in my recollection as a budding teenager, an action film was "given the recognition it deserved" by a major critic. Some of the words that Owen Gleiberman (or Lisa Schwarzbum, I don't remember) used were beyond my understanding, but from what I could tell, they finally gave an A to a guns-n-explosions flick because it was "serious" and "triumphant." This is all in my head, mind you. I have no desire to go re-read that review for fear of interpreting it a completely different fashion. But that was it for me, for better or worse. I loved the mildness and sterility of Wolfgang Petersen's venture into the airplane action-drama subgenre (I also loved Executive Decision!) because EW told me to. But what matters is that at the time, it felt so good to cheer in my head when Ford yells at Gary Oldman, "get off my plane!" even though the movie was kinda boring.

Con Air: Now "mild" and "sterile" are definitely two adjectives not to be uttered when discussing the great Con Air. Instead, I would suggest that "fireball!" and "shit yeah!" would be more appropriate. And yes, the exclamation marks are totally necessary. Man, where to start with this one. Let's free associate, as I'm sure that's what Bay and Bruckheimer did while sculpting this piece of work. Dave Chappelle running and trying to catch up with the plane, Nicolas Cage's mullet and southern accent, John Malkovich giving this movie as much energy (if not more) and vitriol as any other film or play he's ever acted in, Ving Rhames being quintessential Ving Rhames, John Cusack and his hippie sandals and sunglasses, "Sweet Home Alabama" ad nauseum, and last but certainly not least, Steve Buscemi talking about wearing someone's head as a hat. What else do you want? That list right there should have made making this movie illegal, but it somehow found its way into cinemas with myself trembling with excitement as it began. (I felt really nervous about sneaking into this one at 14! I thought for sure Austin Powers would be the only awesome movie I saw that day!) All this and yet, there's still something that it's missing to really clinch the deal. What is it? Oh, methinks the answer lies below.

The Devil's Advocate: One simple beautiful word/extraterrestrial-sounding moniker, my friends. Keanu. Yes, I'm sorry, but I believe my hypothesis made about Keanu being our generation's Swayze may indeed be true. In fact, he may be even more than that. Already he's the only star to be in two of the final nominees for The Quest, possibly soon to be three, but instead of transitioning into a new "Finest Films" star for the 00s as his reign over the 90s came to a close, the man starred in the mothereffing Matrix. Mr. Reeves is so powerful that instead of passing the baton to a new so-bad-it's-good star, he retains his status and ups it a notch by starring in a film millions of people loved totally un-ironically. Amazing, right? Well, The Devil's Advocate may be one of his lesser-appreciated works, but it shouldn't be. Especially with Al Pacino playing the ACTUAL devil (unlike Meryl Streep totally NOT playing the devil in The Devil Wears Prada). And what happens when you have an already hyperactive insidious star like Pacino play the devil and Reeves as the doe-eyed protagonist? A dark delight of sinful pleasure and magnificent terror. That's what. It was even more scarring to watch than Con Air, and while this one I saw "legally" with my brother as my official guardian, I still remember feeling all icky and freaked out when leaving the budget theater. Then I realized that was just the Dots on the soles of my shoes, so I bought my own copy of this convoluted thriller previously viewed at Blockbuster and got totally mesmerized by how Keanu fights and (spoiler alert!) somehow wins against moral turpitude and demonic grandeur. It's a ridiculously awesome movie that I want to watch every time I think about it. That's a surefire sign of a bonafide Quest candidate.

I Know What You Did Last Summer: I don't want to diminish the competition though. Yes, Con Air and The Devil's Advocate are two of the most high octane mind-melters discussed throughout this entire journey, but there's something to be said for a warmed over teen slasher flick like IKWYDLS. First of all, take a look at that mouthful of a title. Wowzers! I've always been fascinated by titles of things, especially when they're even the least bit unique, so of course add an awkward title, the screenwriter from Scream, and the fact that it's based off a Lois Duncan novel (yeah I ate all her crap up during middle school silent reading), and you're guaranteed at least three viewings. Oh and don't forget about my first official teen crush: Ms. Jennifer Love Hewitt. I still kinda crush on her, but back in 1997, hoo boy, you did not want to hand me a magazine with her on the cover while I was standing up with nothing to hide my bottom front quadrant behind. Even better? The plot and actors were terrible, but Williamson knows how to deliver shoddy entertainment in a serviceable way no matter how bland or milquetoast its contents are. Everything was dark blue at night and bright yellow in the day time, making it visually striking to my 14-year-old brain while not being too weird, and it was essentially just a string of foot chases put together into a loose narrative. And I HEART foot chases! Way better than car chases. Some of you may have heard me rant about this before, so I'll stop before I get ahead of myself.

Breakdown: But there's always gotta be a dark horse. And here it be. If I were a braver person, I would put all my money behind this Kurt Russell suspense vehicle. In fact, just last night, Brigitte, Qualler, and I were discussing the severe absence of true suspense movies in the film landscape nowadays. Like suspense movies that are actually thrilling, sometimes even bordering on the horror genre. And I tell you what, the dearly departed JT Walsh as a morally ambiguous truck driver would still haunt my dreams if I were to revisit this classic, which I have wanted to do for a very long time, but I have never found a reason to replace my now-lost taped-off-HBO VHS. Anyone interested? This of course almost immediately disqualifies Breakdown, in which Russell and wife Kathleen Quinlan encounter the eponymous problem, only to be helped/kidnapped/terrorized by Walsh and crew for a relentless 90-some minutes, from getting my vote for the Quest, but it does deserve at least this much recognition. It's an intense film that takes place almost completely in the desert, and Russell is one of my all-time favorites (have I mentioned my love for Executive Decision yet? I wish he got more work nowadays!), therefore when you see sand stain Russell's jeans or the humidity cause him to sweat non-stop, you almost feel it yourself. That's how intense it is! I'm serious! Let's all go watch Breakdown! PLEASE?!?!?!!!

Vote for your totes fave in the comments, of course!

The Quest of 1996: The Single Finest Film of Our Generation?

Let us never speak of the year 1995 again. Not only am I hereby erasing it from the Quest, I am deleting it from my own personal history of the world/mankind. Two weeks ago, when I received feedback largely consisting of either "I have never seen any of these films" or "All these movies suck," I almost took this Quest and shoved it up my own you-know-what. To say nothing of the fact that I apparently remain the only person left on the planet who appreciates the glory that is the original Bad Boys (at least I know the Hot Fuzz peeps have my back on its sequel), I would rather we just focus on the winners for the years 1990-1994 thus far. They are: Home Alone, Point Break, The Mighty Ducks, Jurassic Park, and Speed. Two more films (one from 1996 and one determined from a Wild Card post) will join the ranks of these five films over the course of the next month and then finally, on November 10th, 2009, a mere two days before I am officially 20 years removed from the approximate start of my golden age of cinema enjoyment, we will decide together what is the Single Finest Film of Our Generation. But first, let's not forget the gem(s) of 1996...vote for your fave!

Independence Day: So like the fateful year of 1993 and Spielberg's dinosaur epic, there might not be much of a competition for the year of ID4. And while Jurassic Park managed to age 16 years in a respectable fashion based on its use of special effects and imagination/wonder-fueled storyline, I'd like to imagine that people are on the surface too harsh toward its brasher and somehow even less artful bastard cousin of a summer blockbuster, Independence Day. Yes, yes, neither Dean Devlin nor Roland Emmerich have shown any sort of growth or even twice-struck lightning with their ongoing dedication to the overblown disaster genre throughout their tenure in Hoyllweird (The Day After Tomorrow and soon now 2012), but forget that. Also forget that ostensibly, their original breakthrough feature was just a boisterous and jingoistic version of any alien invasion story from the past 100 years of science-fiction. What makes ID4 worth continued watching every July since its release (and into the future) are its stellar scene-chewing performances from Bill Pullman (this man's our president?), Will Smith (he punches the alien in the face!), Jeff Goldbum (stuttering was never funnier), Brent Spiner (Data!), Randy Quaid (now that we know the dude really is crazy, it makes it that much better), and many more. Put these people in high-ranking roles while squids take over the planet with tons of ridiculous explosions of famous cities and buildings and you've got me hooked for eternity.

Twister: But if there is one film that can beat out a creatures from space flick starring Bill Pullman as our hero, it's a tornado movie from the director of Speed starring Bill Paxton as our hero. This movie may have blindsided the American public even more so than Independence Day, what with its pedestrian cast of characters, plain American prairie setting, and obscenely absurd premise. These people chase storms. We accepted that. There are two groups of storm chasers that hate each other. We accepted that. Cary Elwes was our villain. We accepted that. Because he was corporate-sponsored and smiled like bad guys do, we rooted for Bill Paxton instead. Phillip Seymour Hoffman put cucumbers on his eyes, had a redhead mullet, and wore a sweatshirt around his waist, and still went on to win an Oscar for portraying one of the greatest American authors who ever lived. And then there's Helen Hunt. Quite possibly the most boring actress who has ever lived (maybe beaten out just by a hair by Andie MacDowell), Ms. Helen Hunt. With Paul Reiser's better half, Paxton, Hoffman, et al., we tread down debris-laden highway after highway, figuring out a way to lift computerized sensors into tornadoes so we can learn more about tunnels of wind. And by more, I of course mean nothing, because once they uncover the power of (spoiler alert!) aluminum cans, we are left only with swelling music, and a divorced pair of protagonists realizing that the power of weather can bring them back together again. And we accepted that.

Ransom: "Give me back my son!" Do you remember the trailer for this Mel Gibson kidnap melodrama that just featured him behind a desk spilling over with money, looking dead serious into the camera, explaining how much he hates his son's captor? It sent chills up my spine. It grabbed hold of me, and much like ID4 did for science-fiction to my poor misled brain, made me fall in lover all over again with the kidnapping drama subgenre. In middle school, I had obsessed over learning everything I could about the Lindbergh baby, and so it makes sense that when a big budget movie gains traction at the box office shortly thereafter (despite it having little to nothing to offer in terms of unique storytelling), that I would dive deep into its convoluted plot of double-crossings and high-class corruption. What's most remarkable about Ransom, however, may be the fact that it is a Ron Howard film. Ron, effing, Howard. The man responsible for some of my most disliked films of all time, including A Beautiful Mind and The Da Vinci Code. Even now, I can still look back and find joy in the thrilling (albeit overwrought) and relentless suspense of Gibson's bulging veins, Russo's yelping cries, and Gary Sinise's intensely creepy Gary-Siniseness. How Howard lost this joy of movie-making once the 90s ended is unbeknownst to me, but I wish he (and you) would reconsider the awesomeness of Ransom.

Broken Arrow: Okay, you probably haven't seen Broken Arrow. That, or you only remember it sucking. Fair enough. It's a terrible Christian Slater/John Travolta action movie about a missing warhead. And while Christian Slater and John Travolta, when in action movie mode, are two of my utmost guilty pleasures (I watched almost all the aired episodes of My Own Worst Enemy and I was psyched when I finally got to see the mediocre but serviceable remake of The Taking of Pelham 123), I have just one 90s character actor name for you: Delroy Lindo. This man needs work again. Take a look at his resume for that decade: Broken Arrow, Ransom, Get Shorty, Clockers, Congo, Crooklyn, Feeling Minnesota, and A Life Less Ordinary. He was the go-to guy for the tough but amiable, incisive but genial authority figure. This film, in my personal opinion, was his high point because not only does he have more speaking parts here than any of the other blockbusters he appeared in (sure, the Spike Lee movies are where he truly shined, but I didn't realize that until years later), but also because he embodied (along with Travolta and Slater) what makes 90s action movies so lovable: equal doses intensity and inanity. Broken Arrow may be no different than your run-of-the-mill explosion flick, but it does everything with such gusto that its simplicity brings out its perfection. Plus, Travolta gets a warhead in the gut that pushes him out a train in the final scene. It's so cool!

Daylight: Sylvester Stallone and a bunch of whining commoner commuters get trapped in a tunnel when terrorists (I think?) blow it up at both ends! The gimmick is so lame that it somehow works. I specifically remember going into this movie thinking that Sylvester Stallone was kinda lame and I never liked any of those Rocky movies, but the second that they all realized they were running out of air, I was hooked. It was exactly like a short story I would have written for an English class, except its script (probably) had a better grasp on how to avoid comma splices. It was the kind of lame adventure plot that, yes, only appealed to the kind of kid who constantly imagined what it would be like to get stuck in random places and have to lead a group out of the rubble to safety, and that's probably about it. It's definitely the least memorable film of the five listed above, and that's saying something, because Broken Arrow and the impact Delroy Lindo had on me as an adolescent was just discussed in the paragraph above. But regardless, it's something of a curio in my collection VHS tapes in that it's a cookie cutter novelty that still reignites the desire for narrative creation that I will always associate with it in my mind. And yes, just like the rules of the Quest, it makes me want to watch it again.

The Quest of 1995: The Single Finest Film of Our Generation?

I was so sure we were on 1996 for this biweekly edition of the Quest for the Single Finest Film of Our Generation. I was mentally pumping myself up for writing about Independence Day so hard. How did I totally skip over the nominees for the median year of the decade and head straight into late-90s territory? Well, take a look at the films below and you might understand why. Right now as I'm typing this intro things aren't looking pretty for this week's entry, and I apologize for that (has ever intro paragraph for the Quest included an apology of some kind?) profusely. But who knows, sometimes wondrous memories pop up into my pop culturally fettered brain while I'm writing about the randomest pieces of nostalgia on this here Blogulator. So before I get too wrapped up in analyzes my own thought processes, let's kick this thang into high gear as we enter the final stretch of uncovering the Single Finest Film of Our Generation. Vote for your favorite from the listed nominees below via the comments, and if I'm forgetting something, lemme know. My ridiculous voting/nomination rules of the Quest in a nutshell: 1) throbbing nostalgia, 2) is it still entertaining?, and 3) how firmly does it set its feet outside of reality/high art? Remember, Road House was the inspiration for this journey.

P.S. After a tie-breaking vote from my dear Jerksica, Speed is the victor from the 1994 round. And I didn't even mention in the last post that a couple of Blogulator readers got in trouble in middle school for writing a "Bomb on Bus" note during a field trip! Ah, youth.

Die Hard With A Vengeance: While I mostly enjoyed Live Free or Die Hard, I have to admit it diluted the power of the Die Hard trilogy, like most tacked-on fourth entries do. And while it shouldn't by any reasonable form of logic, it also weakened the throbbing nostalgia I once had for the one film of the series that came out during my golden years of enjoying cinema. Then again, there are a lot of things illogical about nostalgia. Why did I go through various attempts of taping Bruce Willis and Samuel L. Jackson bickering at each other while bombs went off every 20 minutes during our month-long HBO preview at home? There's no logic there. Why did I, when my first few attempts with old VHS tapes failed, bike furiously to the nearby Osco Drug and back to buy new blank ones before HBO replayed the film for the thousandth time that month? No reason that I recall. I was a highly impressionable 12-year-old that had recently rented the first two Die Hard films and fallen for John McClane's brash heroics, and so when I heard that the guy from Pulp Fiction joined him in the third entry to the franchise, I nearly wet myself. Simple as that. Now, I remember nothing enjoyable other than that there were fun tricks Jeremy Irons played on the duo. And then I kept that VHS tape (when I finally succeeded at recording the movie) next to the TV, ready to watch it again and again next time a sick day reared its head.

Congo: The term you're looking for is "coattails", I believe. While the half-assed attempts to turn Michael Crichton's books into a 90s film phenomenon didn't end with Congo, they certainly should have. I don't even remember the plot of Congo, except that there were scientists and gorillas. I also don't remember why I have such throbbing pangs of nostalgia for this film either. With Die Hard With... at least I can trace a path of understanding. Here, I just know that it was ostensibly Jurassic Park without dinosaurs or Spielberg's majestically overwrought/awesome direction. Who wants to watch a spectacle movie about scientists when there's apes instead of raptors?! Apparently 11-year-old me did. And not just once either! While I cannot remember the story, I have vivid flashes of Grant Heslov looking ugly and scared, Dylan Walsh (aka Sean of Nip/Tuck) looking curly-haired and oaf-ish, and gorillas looking totally fake and escaping...lava? Or am I combining memories of Heslov's other film, Dante's Peak? I don't even know. Oh well, at least I'm not writing about Sphere.

Outbreak: Okay, now we're cooking. It was pretty painful getting through those last two, I admit, but this film and the one that follows are the two reasons 1995 is worth giving a damn about. Hoffman. Russo. Spacey. Freeman. Gooding, Jr. And Sutherland! Donald Sutherland! Holy crap that cast still rocks. This is how you make a virus movie, ladies and gents. You put the six most dramatic actors that 12-year-old me recognizes, hire a director with a penchant for melodramatic white-knuckled suspense (Wolfgang Petersen, who two years later will make his career-high masterpiece Air Force One) and make it Rated R, but make it about something that doesn't necessitate a lot of blood-spilling so my mom not only approves of it, but likes it as much as I do. Seeing this film and loving every moment of scenery-chewing idiocy made me feel like an adult. It made me feel like movies could be serious and entertaining. Of course I wouldn't realize until years later that it's a mind-boggling mess of a film with convolutions aplenty, emotional manipulation poured on by the boatload, and a stupid little monkey that no one can seem to capture and/or realize it's the cause of the disease (I don't remember exactly)! Love it. Want to watch it right now.

Bad Boys: That was a close one, folks. I very easily could have been primarily inspired by Outbreak to grow up a bit too soon. It could have led me to enjoy the Jack Ryan movies more than anyone actually should, or it could have influenced me to actually see Jerry Maguire...ever (yeah, I've still managed to hold out somehow). But thanks to Bad Boys, another Jerry ruled my teenage years. One that may be more insidious but is infinitely more entertaining. Yes, Mr. Bruckheimer (and his even more moronic sidekick Michael Bay) came on my radar with what may still be the defining film of their career, in my eyes. This is because while the awesomeness of Bad Boys surely stems from the twinklings of beautifully idiotic ideas from "The Bay and Bruck" (action scenes with a glossy sheen, editing that rivals the speed of a cheetah, etc.), Will and Martin (as I like to call them) completely destroy the notion of the buddy flick. Like Qualler wavers on the level of art in Speed's commitment to ridiculousless, I, my friends, struggle with comprehending the level of art present in the interplay between Smith and Lawrence. The machismo riffing, the nonsensical screaming, and the downright ballin' facial expressions these two muster up is tantamount to Butch and Sundance, Jack and Ennis, or Abbot and Costello. It's dumb stuff, but it's so incredibly magnetic that while Bad Boys does get my vote, I finally understand and appreciate the monumental complexities present in voting correctly for this absurd Quest.

The Net: The day before middle school started. A double feature of Sandra Bullock freaking out about the Interweb and the live-action rendition of Mortal Kombat. My only true friend at the time, The Drax, and I sit in the theater after suffering through the redhead nervous faced lady from Speed running away over and over again from mean lean Jeremy Northam. We're about to sneak on over to see a darkly lit version of a video game universe we only knew peripherally, as both of us too often preferred the VCR over the SNES. I scoop up my last bit of nacho cheese. The Drax slurps up about half a straw full of Pepsi. There's a pause as we wait for everyone to leave so I can tell him The Net was kinda cool and he can tell me to shut the hell up. Before said moment can occur, dude spews everywhere. Everywhere. In my nacho tray, half into his cup as he's trying to open it in time to catch the yellow chunks, but mostly on the floor. Turns out he's totally nervous about starting middle school! We're best friends that pretend to hate each other but freely talk about the crap that makes us nerdy emotional boys and admit that movies are the best way to escape, so instead of calling my mom to pick us up early, we still go see Mortal Kombat and while he holds his stomach and looks like death, he calls me an idiot for thinking Sandra Bullock is kind of a good actress. Every time I watch my taped VHS of The Net, I remember this day.

The Quest of 1994: The Single Finest Film of Our Generation?

Well, nostalgia enthusiasts, we are officially halfway through our quest, depending on how you look at it. You see, I've decided to ixnay the 1998 round (the nominations are too weak, to say the least, if you check out my original post that kick started all this hoopla) and am instead officially going to include a "Wild Card Round" before the final post that determines the ultimate victor, or the Single Finest Film of Our Generation. This controversial mid-Quest tactic may indeed negate the entire process we'll have gone through by that point, but that's part of the fun. Nostalgia isn't something that is permanently implanted in our brains and doesn't let go as we grow older. No; instead it revisits us in bursts of unpredictable ecstasy and it is our job to document these irrational "past-gasms" not dissimilar to how my cat goes through phases of love love loving those salmon dental treats at seemingly random intervals. Also, yallz have come up with some solid arguments for films I left by the wayside and those should be discussed and officially considered before the final post as well. Lastly, this may indeed not be the halfway mark because I am also putting my proverbial tippy toes in the water re: a Quest for the Single Finest (For Realz) Film of Our Generation, in which we explore films such as (but certainly not limited to) Scream, Clueless, and Reality Bites, aka films that not only hold nostalgia value and are still entertaining to watch as a bonafide adult, but also are still genuinely great movies, totally unironically/mockingly. Feel free to rave/vent about this idea in the comments, along with your vote for the year of 1994...

True Lies: The final of three Ah-nold films covered in this informal exploratory research project may not be the best of his work (like Terminator 2) nor is it the worst (Last Action Hero), but it is quite possibly the least problematic. James Cameron straddled the line between art and action a wee too much in Judgment Day and the meta-trashiness of 1993's overly kid-friendly flick was just too chaotic and nonsensical to completely enjoy. However, True Lies is a beautiful film because it's 100% pure candy. It has all the trappings that an action film must have to be effective (just enough of a sketch of a character to feel sympathy, convoluted plots that your brain tricks you into thinking they make sense), but it also is painted with set pieces that make your eyeballs explode (jet planes on buildings and over the sea) and expertly crafted sequences of suspense (from attending a fancy dinner party to being an undercover sea diver) that make it the perfect candidate for the action film of our generation. However, Tom Arnold and Jamie Lee Curtis haven't exactly grown likable over the years, if you know what I mean...like not even in a Keanu sorta way. More like a Gilbert Gottfried sort of way.


Speed: Speaking of that man behind the legend, here's my personal choice for victor of 1994. Speed was one of the few American films that Quentin Tarantino remarked about in his recent list of "Top 20 Films Released While I Have Been Directing Movies" and while its kitsch value wasn't mentioned, the cold hard adrenaline factor was. And rightfully so, because while movies like True Lies and The Last Boy Scout are eternally entertaining in their ability to giddify the senses, nothing has ever been (and quite possibly, nothing ever will be) as white-knuckled and raw as the scenario(s) presented in Jan De Bont's landmark thriller. On the surface, the elevator, bus, and subway all seem like gimmicks tied loosely together to create the ultimate novelty action flick. But Mr. Reeves and Dennis Hopper, specifically, dedicate and commit themselves to these concepts with such blank-faced/devil-faced gusto that the movie's success in making you laugh hysterically just moment before and after you scream "what the shit?!" as the bus jumps like a 500 foot gap in the freeway, or Hopper gets his face taken off by a subway fixture, or whatever. It's beautiful, it's simple, it's perfect. It's mothereffing Speed, mothereffers.

Stargate: I was very close to going against my gut instinct and giving some much deserved love to this wacky sci-fi gem that regrettably spawned a subpar wacky sci-fi series by naming it my personal pick for 1994. Of course just thinking about Speed was enough to kick the moment of weakness to the curb, but I must admit that there's something almost indescribable about how James Spader bumbles his way through a story about a magical circle that brings him to a distant ancient Egypt-esque planet (he was famously reported as signing on to the because he was curiously astounded by how atrocious the script was) that I latched onto as an 11-year-old. He was a nerd and he was the main character! I'm aware that this is now (and quite possibly has always been) just as trite as the jock or brawny guy taking the lead, but oh how he butted heads with big scary military leader Kurt Russell (so badass he's almost unrecognizable here) and knew so many things about Egypt and hieroglyphics that it made the alien desert girls swoon! And of course got him back to Earth finally in the end (spoiler alert)! This may have been a way stupid movie, but it was uniquely stupid and still maintained the conventional structure of your average adventure movie to keep little 'ol nerdy me fascinated with fake Egyptian mythology for weeks afterward.


D2: The Mighty Ducks: I think the superiority of D2 to the original can be summed up quite easily in just one word (it may be the only sequel that can be so easily argued as better than its predecessor): knucklepuck. Just when you didn't think a movie about a band of misfits employing their 'Flying V' panacea/technique on repeat could bear an interesting sequel, all of a sudden we see the playing field (hardy har) upped on almost every level. Suddenly we're dealing with the Junior Goodwill Games (which I remember confusing with the real Olympics for the first few viewings), an even more wacky ragtag team of hooligans (the Bash Brothers!), and an even more insanely dangerous and badass winning strategy: gently standing up the puck with one's stick, and then smashing it across the ice as hard/fast as one possibly could. How many broken noses and bloody teeth that moment in film history ended up being responsible for is irrelevant; it changed every boy with roller blades and access to a nearby Dunham's life. It was a very rudimentary procedure for enhancing the original story and telling it again with more bombast and splendor, but boy did it work. D2 might even be the best strictly children's film on this Quest, and while I'd be up for a Mighty Ducks party sometime in the future, I would skip in favor of a "Need for Speed" gala hands down, without question. Sorry, Kenan.

Blank Check: Well this is anti-climactic. It's amazing how a movie about a kid who gets literally anything he wants is shown up with such ease by a movie whose greatest claim to fame is a puck-striking strategy. Nevertheless, Blank Check still is notable and worthy of inclusion in 1994's list of nominees for three reasons: 1) Tone Loc, 2) a waterslide coming out of a castle and into a pool, and 3) the ever appealing subtextual plot of a young boy attracting the creepy attention of a "smokin' older woman" (in 11-year-old Chris language), especially while running through one of those floor fountains where you don't know when they're going to spurt water and tee hee! All of a sudden we're both all wet and laughing and she looks at him longingly and then his dreams are crushed and he has to give up everything. Luckily in the world of the movies, we can pretend that sobering reality never happened in the film and the kid lived happily ever after as the mysterious "Macintosh", spending and spending until that $1,000,000 never runs out.

The Quest of 1993: The Single Finest Film of Our Generation?

This is a stone cold test of endurance. This is the crap-in-your-pants marathon of movie blogging. We are not even halfway through the necessary, yes, but mind-bogglingly painstaking process of selecting and subsequently exalting the official Single Finest Film of Our Generation and I already feel like I'm looking for my second wind. Luckily I'm not lumbering toward some nebulous point in the future that may or may not exist in which my leadership finally becomes meaningful because you, the people, the movie lovers of the blogosphere, are the reason I come back every two weeks after each much deserved respite to analyze a new year from our childhood/adolescent memories. Thus far we have pushed through the honorable finalists Home Alone, Point Break, and The Mighty Ducks and now we look to the year where I (and many of you) finally broke double digits. Ten years old we became and even deeper we did submerge ourselves into the majesty of the cinema. 1992 was a surprising hotbed of fury between an Emilio Estevez hockey movie and a Charles Grodin dog movie, so it will be interesting to see the intensity found in a voting period featuring Spielbergian dinosaurs, Jamaican bobsledders, an evil Culkin, peroxide-crazy Wesley Snipes, and a postmodern-fail Governator. Vote for your favorite (tip: think both in terms of "how much awesome is in my noggin thanks to this film?" and "how much do I wish I could be watching, laughing, and loving this movie right now?") in the comments!

Jurassic Park: The big kahuna. The whole enchilada. The top banana. When it comes to 90s cinema, hardly anything comes close to a film in which scientists bring dinosaurs (the ultimate childhood fascination as far as I'm concerned) back into existence, only to have them turn on their re-creators and run amok on an island. The best part? That could have been a terrible premise, but luckily Mr. Steven Spielberg combined the only three things he's good at (pulling heartstrings, creating there's-a-monster! tension, and communicating childlike wonder) to make JP infinitely memorable. Did The Lost World and the third one that I don't even remember ruin everything? Kinda. Is it almost unfair to include a movie that so closely straddles the line between entertainingly awesome (ah Goldblum) and genuinely awesome (my heart still almost ruptures during the kitchen scene)? Probably. But while JP might just be the only film covered throughout this quest to be both preposterous and genius, it's all about watching through a child's eyes, whether it be in the past or in the present. Even when I'm a grandpa I'll be wishing Dr. Hammond was mine.


Cool Runnings: Then again, if you wanted to be different, you could vote for what just might be the ultimate underdogs of the 90s, the Jamaican bobsled team! I have to say, even though a small corner of my heart is happy that The Mighty Ducks prevailed in 1992's vote, I personally think Cool Runnings is the most heartwarming sports movie of my childhood, and possibly, of my entire life. Man this is hard. John Candy had already won my affection in Uncle Buck and as "the polka king" in Home Alone (who was allegedly based on the "polka king of New England" that my own mother almost married in the early 90s, by the way), so when he came rolling through as the down and out Irv Blitzer, he not only creeped me out less than Gordon Bombay, but I always felt Candy had a earnestly jovial and carefree spirit that endlessly impressed me. Plus, Doug E. Doug's short-lived sitcom Where I Live was a favorite of mine that year when it premiered on (and sadly soon disappeared from) on TGIF, so I was stoked to see the two together on the screen. The one down note for CR is that I haven't seen it for years so I really have no clue if it holds up (though I'd love to give it a try). Also, a false rumor started around school after CR came out by a friend who shall remain nameless claiming that my mother stood up and cheered at the end of the film, yelling "Go Jamaica!". I don't know if that's a good or bad memory though.

Demolition Man: There's few movies I remember seeing as a kid and thinking they were totally strange, seeing as how I was a pretty forgiving critic back then as far as accepting the reality of an alternate verisimilitude, but this is definitely one of them. Even ten-year-old Chris couldn't understand why in this futuristic action film starring Sylvester Stallone and Wesley Snipes as cryogenically frozen criminals who are thawed (one on accident, one on purpose) and released to fight each other, Taco Bell remained society's only restaurant. Or why people only had virtual mind-sex, or why there was a shell in the bathroom instead of toilet paper that was never explained how it was used!!! Okay okay, as an adult, I understand these are all semi-failed tongue-in-cheek isn't-the-future-wacky jokes, but as a kid thinking he was seeing a wicked fight scene-fueled sci-fi shoot-em-up, I ended up severely confused throughout the majority of it all. Luckily, that just made it that much more entertaining and memorable for me, and revisiting it as an adult is quite the hoot, and one of a handful of flicks on this quest that I've actually sought out and done that for, proving its unpredicted stamina as a solid gem of WTF from the 90s.


Last Action Hero: Let me tell you the one and only thing I remember from my first viewing of Last Action Hero. It's not a scene from the movie that is almost nothing but a collection of random scenes as Austin O'Brien of My Girl 2 fame literally enters a world of explosions and guns as he becomes a part of a fictional action hero's life. It's not even an image or something in my peripheral from the theater excursion with my mother, who is by all accounts, no fan of action films. It was a feeling related to that last notion, though. I had, until that point, only watched action flicks with my brother. Maybe it was because it was PG-13 or maybe it was because the marketing for the film made it seem like more of a kids' fantasy than a straight-up kaboom-fest, but as I ended up seeing the film-within-a-film, a very specific feeling jolted up inside me that I'll never forget. I felt like I was escaping and was realizing that action of escaping as I was doing it. A stupid Schwarzenegger movie that tried so hard to be clever and often confused me as a child and proves almost to be unwatchable as an adult (so I guess you can see I'm not voting for this one) is indeed still responsible for a pretty eye-opening moment in my film-dweebification process. To be fair, I should give credit to the 1992 film Stay Tuned, which came before it, for setting up the bump-set-psychological spike.

The Good Son: First came the cookie cutter family comedy, then came the action film, and finally we have the horror movie. My brother had tried to get my teeth cut in the genre earlier, but I proved to be far too much of a wuss, closing my eyes and asking him to turn off a number of video rentals, including Dr. Giggles and The Lawnmower Man. But of course, somewhere between Pet Sematary 2 and Candyman, I finally experienced my own curiosity in the obscene, the gory, and the downright despicable with the help of two child actors crossing over from that very first genre that pulled me into a love of film in the first place. It was almost too perfect an idea to not garner fascination of all ten-year-old boys who were starting to finally get cocky and think a movie had to show gruesome deaths in it in order to be good, but this time the violence was committed by children. And not little dolls with red hair or who lived in a corn field, but by actors they recognized formally as the sweet harmless stars of My Girl and Radio Flyer. Yes, with the truly evil"Mac" Culkin as a disturbed orphan and Elijah Wood as the doe-eyed innocent facing off against each other was endlessly thrilling and jarring as a newly minted 6th grader. Finally the genre made sense to me, and from there on out I set out to discover more of the weirdly dark to experience that blithe rush of terror over and over again.