Thumbs Up and Much Thanks

"The movies that are made more thoughtfully or made with more ambition often get just get drowned out by the noise", Roger Ebert once said. Not if he and his colleagues Gene Siskel and Richard Roeper could do anything about it. Up until the recent invention (or heavenly design?) of StumbleUpon, television was the easiest way to develop tastes and expand horizonss, and for over twenty seasons, At The Movies, a recorded two-critic discussion of the latest releases, has done just that. Now, the show's getting the guillotine. Tomorrow, pundits AO Scott and Michael Phillips will consider the virtues (or lack thereof) of Julia Roberts, Sly Stallone, and Michael Cera. Then the lights in the balcony will go out for good.
Any attempt to explain how sad this makes me will fail to do my state of mind justice. I grew up watching the Ebert and Roeper edition, taking a morning dose of cinematic theory with my mini-wheats and milk. When Ebert got sick and Roeper quit and someone got that immeasurably dumbassed idea to turn the show into an E!-influenced calamity, I backtracked to the old Siskel shows for comfort, finding almost twenty years worth of fiery debate, ecstatic praise, and scathing put-downs. When AO Scott and Michael Phillips were brought in for the show's final years, I tuned in oncemore, a loyal viewer till the bitter end. I'll miss this show, and the public will too whether they know it or not. Too often, deafening hype wins the day; commerce kills art. But these critics were gladiators for the cinema. They fought to get the buried masterworks seen, be it Hoop Dreams or In the Bedroom. Every week, the average American could turn on their television and feel their knowledge of cinema deepen and widen. Now that's an absolute good. A thunderous round of applause to Siskel, Ebert, Roeper, Phillips, and Scott. You've turned movie watchers into movie lovers, and movie lovers into movie understanders. As a farewell gift, I present a list of the show's most memorable moments. I thank you. The movies thank you. And now, an early birthday present to myself-I get to write about la Streisand!

YENTL
The 25: Barbra's best. Tell me otherwise, but know you're wrong.
People who demand realism from their musicals always crack me up. I mean, based on their appellation alone, we know that the base concept here involves people who burst into song, accompanied by full orchestras and random, shimmy-shake-inclined people who strut in from the corner of the frame. And you expect realism? I expect you also take issue with Tom and Jerry's stubborn aversion to following the laws of physics. In short, anyone who knocks Yentl because Barbra Streisand does not make a plausible teenager, or because the accents aren't consistent or Eastern Europe looks too bright or the ending is too happy can go fuck themselves. Or they can attempt to lock their cynicism away for two hours and be greeted with an sumptuous, enchanting piece of personal filmmaking from the 20th's centuries greatest jack-of-all-arts.

We good? Good. I'll get the plot out of the way quickly; in a time where women are forbidden to learn Jewish philosophy, 18-year-old Yentl (La Streisand) disguises herself as a man and joins the yeshiva (Jewish seminary), only to find her simple plans of study disrupted by Avigdor (Mandy Patinkin), who she falls in love with (she can't act on it, she's a "boy!"), and his fiance Hadass (Amy Irving), who falls in love with Yentl (who can't opt out of it, she's a "BOY!")! It's a slightly confusing, fairly preposterous conceit (hell, it's based on a Yiddish fable), ripe with the ever-present possibility of careening out of control, sinking into sap or soaring up and away into the stratosphere of silliness. But it doesn't, not once, and here's why; Streisand is in control. Though I am the greatest fan of the greatest star, even I must admit she has a serious flaw in her artistic makeup; she's too gifted. She can hold notes too long, milk a comic line for more its worth; she's blessed with such righteous, roiling energy she could do a whole movie or song or what have you at about 1000 watts. The disadvantage here is, in the early-to-mid 60's, we got a lot of 100 watt work performed at ten times that voltage (check out her version of "Jingle Bells" and see what I mean). However, starting with Funny Girl and ending at its zenith with this picture, Barbra realized the key to greatness was actually in reigning herself in. Those who find La Streisand's vocals too screechy, her acting too hammy or her direction too heavy-handed will be all the more blown away by Yentl. Streisand directs with a swift, subtle touch, acts with impeccable focus, and sings with impressive variety, wisely holding back on the more showy vocal fireworks until the final act. I can't say whether or not she was responsible for the breathtaking camerawork, the commendably precise editing ("Tomorrow Night" remains one of the all time uses of the "match cut" technique), or the equally first-rate work done by Patinkin and Irving. What I can say is that what makes Yentl fundamentally underrated and unmissable is the fact that it presents on of the last Great Performing Personalities of our time at her peak in every way. If you aren't a Babs fan, this film will make you one.

Of course, I have to mention my insane bias towards the picture. It's not just Barbra. It's the story, the way it deals with Judaism and with fundamental questions of justice, honor, fate, and tradition. This movie is a virtuous one, not preachy but powered by a red-blooded good heart, with morals solid as rock and sweet optimism to bask in like a healthy does of sunlight. Yentl is my go-to catharsis, my pick-me-up-or-help-me-cry film, one that leaves me an sopping-wet idealistic mess before the credits roll, without fail. In short, I kinda like it.
The Singular Scene: "A Piece of Sky", Barbra's final solo, finally gives us the Streiso-gasm high note we've been building to all along. Behind and in front of the camera, it's her shining hour.