"A Revisited Picture About Pictures"

After knocking the movies because there are no films for me to see, I have recently liked three.

I liked Eddie Murphy’s They Call Me Dolemite, a skillful depiction a show biz cult figure who refused to give up.

I liked Knives Out, a friendly, funny whodunit.

And now – adhering to the hallowed literary “Rule of Three’s” – there’s It’s a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood.

Maybe the classiest, and hands down the most elevating, film of the bunch.

And, of course, true to form,

I did not want to see it.

Why not?

Having already seen the Mr. Rogers documentary, Won’t You Be My Neighbor? – which I thoroughly enjoyed – I had no interest in seeing a biographical “Replay”, with Tom Hanks done up as Fred Rogers.

I was wrong. 

In two ways.

One, Won’t You Be My Neighbor? is not a biographical “Replay” of the documentary, with Tom Hanks done up as Fred Rogers.

And two, it was wonderful.  (To me.  Though savvy proximate seatmates thumbsed it down.) 

Okay.

Wait.  Not yet.

First, an amendment. 

Concerning my resistance to “Biopics” – because “It’s not them!” – to my exception of The Al Jolson Story, I should have added Jamie Foxx’s dazzling performance as Ray Charles in Ray.  The proprietors apologize for this oversight.

Now, where was I? 

Oh yeah.  The two ways I was wrong.

First, “The Structural Surprise.”

Hewing to the dominant writing instruction, “Show – don’t tell” It’s a Beautiful Day… shows Mr. Rogers not in biographical sequence but mounting an active campaign, bent on healing a cynical journalist, dispatched to interview him.

And he heals him!

Through a patented recipe of listening, empathy, natural insight and love.

So there’s that.  It was not what I expected. 

The other thing?

Tom Hanks is transformative.

Way better than his Bosom Buddies performances.   (How no one could tell he wasn’t a girl…)

Melting into the persona, you almost forget he’s Tom Hanks.

Which is not easy.

Because he’s Tom Hanks.

But he did it.

And more impressively,

He made the man credible in his inordinate kindness.

Hard to do if you are the real Mr. Rogers!

And he isn't!

I won't trouble you with the plotline, a typical father-son schism-reconciliation scenario.  (With a dreadful face-crunching fistfight I could have easily have done without.)  The powerful “take-away” is that Fred Rogers genuinely cared.  Not to be blasphemous but it was like Jesus, in zip-up sweater and low-top sneakers.

I walked out, committed to softening my sentiments all round.

Starting with giving the movies an accommodating fair shake.

My altered perspective?

As long as there are still some available for me,

I like movies

Just the way they are.