In Defense of Pee Wee
This past Sunday, I watched Pee Wee's Big Adventure at the Michigan Theater in Ann Arbor as part of their Summer Classic Film Series. Though I do admit, going in, I wasn't as excited as I'd been about, say, Jaws or Lawrence of Arabia. But I realized how wonderfully magic the film is, and that it is very much worth seeing on the big screen. Yet my friends (well, the ones that don't read my journal at least) disagree with me.
Based off the television series ('The Pee Wee Herman Show', the more adult-ish precursor to Pee Wee's Playhouse), it's a strange and wild ride in search of the greatest bike ever. To most, it's a screwball comedy that's targetted more towards kids than adults (and would lead to the Playhouse). Most people forget, however, this film was directed by Tim Burton, which lends a entirely different sort of feel to it.
Pee Wee is basically a Peter Pan figure, unwilling to grow up (he spurns the advances of the comely bike store employee several times throughout the movie), wishing more for everything to stay the same. He lives in a magical world of Rube Goldbergian technology (of which only he seems privy to), where everything is happy. He spends his day tuning up his bike and visiting the local magic shop to purchase tricks, seemingly living the life he wishes to, not a care in the world. The town in which he resides resembles those of Edward Scissorhands and Beetlejuice, sort of quaint, whitewashed, "nice" towns, with a dark underbelly hidden beneath the surface (it's quite literal here, as when Pee Wee goes to the fortune teller). Burton's America is something of the opposite, a dark and dingy place, with a sort of goodness and brightness inherent within (the bikers and the escaped convict are examples of that). This America is an odd, even sometimes dangerous place, but Pee Wee's naviete and childish charm always seem to help him through. Everyone he meets, he changes thier lives for the better, giving them hope, feeding their dreams and making the world better. His entire quest seems almost preordained, and the visit to the fortune teller would indicate this, that he was perhaps sent on some mission from God to make the world a better place.
But does this mean it's really worth watching on the big screen? For some, the philosophical undertones of the film are well worth the price of admission. The film is a visual wonder. The opening sequence of Pee Wee's morning, including the strange contraption to make his breakfast and his questionable sanity, is enhanced (as is the rest of the film) by Danny Elfman's brillant score to create ten minutes of well ordered insanity. There are dozens of visual oddities throughout the sequence, strange things happening off in the background (the fact that Paul Reubens's actual bedroom was used for the scene raises some interesting questions, but that's an entirely different story), something that would be hard to catch at home on the small screen. The sound in the theater is well beyond anything you would hear at home, and Danny Elfman's wonderfully quirky score is well worth hearing (it fits the oddball mood of the film perfectly). There is a visual wonder to the movie that is not inherent when watching it at home, from colors to cinematography. Tim Burton is a great director, and seeing any of his movies, be they action, horror or comedy, in an actual theater is always a great experience. But some people will never understand that (the same sort of people who wouldn't read this because it's so long). And that saddens me, just a little...
Based off the television series ('The Pee Wee Herman Show', the more adult-ish precursor to Pee Wee's Playhouse), it's a strange and wild ride in search of the greatest bike ever. To most, it's a screwball comedy that's targetted more towards kids than adults (and would lead to the Playhouse). Most people forget, however, this film was directed by Tim Burton, which lends a entirely different sort of feel to it.
Pee Wee is basically a Peter Pan figure, unwilling to grow up (he spurns the advances of the comely bike store employee several times throughout the movie), wishing more for everything to stay the same. He lives in a magical world of Rube Goldbergian technology (of which only he seems privy to), where everything is happy. He spends his day tuning up his bike and visiting the local magic shop to purchase tricks, seemingly living the life he wishes to, not a care in the world. The town in which he resides resembles those of Edward Scissorhands and Beetlejuice, sort of quaint, whitewashed, "nice" towns, with a dark underbelly hidden beneath the surface (it's quite literal here, as when Pee Wee goes to the fortune teller). Burton's America is something of the opposite, a dark and dingy place, with a sort of goodness and brightness inherent within (the bikers and the escaped convict are examples of that). This America is an odd, even sometimes dangerous place, but Pee Wee's naviete and childish charm always seem to help him through. Everyone he meets, he changes thier lives for the better, giving them hope, feeding their dreams and making the world better. His entire quest seems almost preordained, and the visit to the fortune teller would indicate this, that he was perhaps sent on some mission from God to make the world a better place.
But does this mean it's really worth watching on the big screen? For some, the philosophical undertones of the film are well worth the price of admission. The film is a visual wonder. The opening sequence of Pee Wee's morning, including the strange contraption to make his breakfast and his questionable sanity, is enhanced (as is the rest of the film) by Danny Elfman's brillant score to create ten minutes of well ordered insanity. There are dozens of visual oddities throughout the sequence, strange things happening off in the background (the fact that Paul Reubens's actual bedroom was used for the scene raises some interesting questions, but that's an entirely different story), something that would be hard to catch at home on the small screen. The sound in the theater is well beyond anything you would hear at home, and Danny Elfman's wonderfully quirky score is well worth hearing (it fits the oddball mood of the film perfectly). There is a visual wonder to the movie that is not inherent when watching it at home, from colors to cinematography. Tim Burton is a great director, and seeing any of his movies, be they action, horror or comedy, in an actual theater is always a great experience. But some people will never understand that (the same sort of people who wouldn't read this because it's so long). And that saddens me, just a little...