Shades of shadenfreude – Friday video distractions with Mike Norton

Movies by association. This is an odd category where, like modern particle physics, one isn’t concentrating on the thing itself, but on the effects of its interaction with something else. So, this week’s piece isn’t a set of offerings where I’m necessarily suggesting these films. It’s more a small museum of moviegoer-movie wrecks.

    Shadenfreude (SHädənˌfroidə) noun: pleasure derived by someone from another person's misfortune.

Sometimes my mind takes a shadowed path to entertainment. Or, less ominously, there are times when the most immediately memorable thing about a movie is the reaction someone had to it. That would seem to set this up as ripe to be filled with memories of people excitedly and enthusiastically telling me about their favorites… but it isn’t. (Maybe I'll try that another time.)
 For some reason, if someone I know was deeply disappointed in or embarrassed by their choice of, or especially if they hated, a movie, that can be what I’ll always, first, remember it for. Bitter disappointment, even a sense of betrayal of trust, in some cases, while in other cases a deep embarrassment at having dared to be publicly enthusiastic in advance, only to feel equally publicly shamed after the reveal.

  This week. I’m calling up some of the first ones that come to mind when I think of such this. Exhibits in a mental museum.
  One final note before beginning: This is all untested ice I'm walking on. Key to all of these is that this is what I took in, back in the day, and in none of these cases have I revisited the matter with the people involved. You know how these things can go -- it could very well be that I misheard something then, or misremembered it soon after hearing it, or there's a critical element missing that might turn it on its ear. As most of these involve people who are still around, following up with them is an option. It could be interesting to see if I got the stories right, and also to see which of these have stuck with them, and which have faded maybe to the point that they hardly remember mentioning them. I'd be surprised by the latter, but sometimes people's passions burn very hot and quickly. I have to remind myself that other people may have better means of processing and clearing out their reactions.
  Anyway, on to some exhibits:

A friend from comics fandom circles, Chris M., had been looking forward to what Mel Brooks was going to do with Spaceballs (1987).

 Chris is about seven years younger than me, he’d enjoyed the Star Wars films (there were only three back then), and was a fan of Brooks’ other films, so he was looking forward to this combination of good things.
 The film itself was a huge, lowbrow disappointment to him; a deflating anticlimax. I never took the extra step of teasing out the details of the experience, so I have an imagined scenario in mind, wherein he’d talked the movie up not only to himself in anticipation of it, but to a few friends, and maybe even made a minor event of them getting out to see it as soon as possible after it debuted.The idea that he maybe had to talk one or more people into doing this adds to the ultimate experience, making a little more piercing. This created a layered personalization of the experience, and at least circa 1990, seemed to have forever bonded it to him.
  A couple from the ‘90s, involved co-workers:

 Jim W. saw Leaving Las Vegas (1995), the Nicolas Cage-starring film about a Hollywood screenwriter who fell, hard, due to his alcoholism, losing everything, when then goes to Las Vegas on a mission to drink himself to death. He befriends a prostitute (Elisabeth Shue), and they agree on a non-interference pact concerning what they each can clearly see is self-destructive behavior in the other. 

Jim mentioned the movie in passing to me, back when the experience was fresh, having found the film so repugnant that it seemed like he was spitting out something vile he’d accidentally sipped. I suspect he expected what would ultimately be a story of romance and redemption, and instead got a very, very downbeat experience. This remains a rare case where I still haven’t seen the film in question, though I know the players and pretty much the full plot. And, after watching this trailer, yeah, I can fully understand how someone who was lured into the theater with that bait would feel betrayed by the actual film.
  In 1996, Kevin S. saw The Frighteners.

 A Peter Jackson-directed film back from before Jackson was a Big Name, and so it was in that era primarily a Michael J. Fox vehicle. I remain murky on what Kevin’s specific expectations were – was it that he was expecting more of a horror film? Or did he come at it anticipating Michael J. Fox in something closer to Ghostbusters, and expect it to be funnier than it ended up being? I still work with the man, so maybe I’ll get around to asking yet. For now, though, I know it stood as a disappointment to him, and so that’s my primary link to it despite having eventually seen it, too.

Finally, the topper for extreme and lasting impact – and the one in this category that precedes the others:

An old friend, Pat M., had an aunt and uncle, Mary and Rich. Somewhere along the line the topic of movies came up, and I found that they apparently wrote off going out to the movies ever again many years earlier. Why? Because they went out to see Frank Sinatra’s then-latest, The Man with the Golden Arm (1955), and were so put off by the tale of a would-be jazz drummer and relapsing drug addict that they forever associated it with the experience going to the movies. 

  That’s such a mind-blowing leap, to go from disappointment in a specific film to the utter damnation of an entire medium and recreational option, that I doubt it’ll ever be displaced as the gem of this particular wing of the museum.
    I’ll close on what might be a theme song for at least the personal embarrassment exhibits in this wing – perhaps something pumped in over the speakers – with lyrics scrolling on screens here and there for easy reference.

[Chorus]
This is Hell, this is Hell
I am sorry to tell you
It never gets better or worse
But you get used to it after a spell
For heaven is hell in reverse

[Verse 1]
The bruiser spun a hula hoop
As all the barmen preen and pout
The neon "i" of nightclub flickers on and off
And finally blew out
The irritating jingle
Of the belly-dancing phoney turkish girls
The eerie glare of ultra violet
Perfect dental work

[Chorus]

[Verse 2]
The failed don juan in the big bow-tie
Is very sorry that he spoke
For he's mislaid his punchline
More than halfway through a very tasteless joke
The Fraulein caught him peeking down her gown
He's yelling in her ear
And all at once the music stopped
As he was intimately bellowing "my dear . . ."

[Chorus]

[Verse 3]
The shirt you wore with courage
And the violent nylon suit
Reappear upon your back
And undermine the polished line you try to shoot
It's not the torment of the flames
That finally see your flesh corrupted
It's the small humiliations that your memory piles up
This is Hell, this is Hell, this is Hell
"My Favourite Things" are playing
Again and again
But it's by Julie Andrews
And not by John Coltrane
Endless balmy breezes and perfect sunsets framed
Vintage wine for breakfast
And naked starlets floating in champagne
All the passions of your youth
Are tranquilized and tamed
You may think it looks familiar
Though you may know it by another name

[Chorus]
This is hell, this is hell

  I prepped this as a potential fill-in, for when my personal and professional schedule tightens to a noose, or when I’m simply not inspired to recommend anything. At the moment this feels like a good fit as I head into this week, so you’re likely seeing this the same week it was written.
 If you, or someone you know, had a similarly crushing experience with what turned out to be a bad movie choice, please, feel free to add it in the Comments below.

  Next week I’ll aim to be back with, most likely, more recommendations or at least heads-up alerts. In the meantime, stay safe and well.    - Mike

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