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“The Victorian monster myths leave a deep mark on our culture. We should remake these stories but in the modern cinematic style.”
“Which one?”
“Why, all of them. All of them together!”
Not too long ago, I was listening to a retrospection of Tom Hanks’ work, centering the analysis upon the movie Big. I had first watched the movie around the time it was out (1988) and now again just recently. It’s an enjoyable film, though I probably wouldn’t quite call it a classic. I had not recalled (although I vaguely remember knowing it at the time) that it was only the second film from Penny Marshal (i.e. Laverne) and established her as a director of note. It became the largest gross for a female* director in its time, breaking the $100 million mark, but it wasn’t exactly a novel concept.
Over the stretch of a few years, Hollywood gave us a small avalanche of movies about being trapped in child’s body or trading bodies between adults and children (or, in another popular theme, between men and women). In the conversation I had, several were mentioned – and sadly I don’t remember the one we were discussing as Big‘s “biggest” rival. With a little internet help, I can identify a handful of films to match the pattern.
- Like Father Like Son swaps Kirk Cameron with Dudley Moore in 1987.
- Vice Versa saw Judge Reinhold trade bodies with Fred Savage (1988).
- 18 Again with the at-the-time very popular George Burns (1988).
- 14 Going on 30 reworked the Big story as a made-for-TV movie (1988).
- Dream a Little Dream has the Coreys take on the subject in 1989.
I’m also going to throw in the Look Who’s Talking series, because we were talking about women directors. That take, putting an adult voice in a baby’s body, was written and directed by Amy Heckerling, she who brought Cameron Crowe’s Fast Times at Ridgemont High to the screen.
This conversation turned to the question of how do people all get the same ideas at the same time? The answer is, of course, “they don’t.”
What happens is that a huge chunk of screenplays end up floundering for years, many never to even start the process of being made. Studios happily snap up far more material than they know what to do with, one supposes in order to give them options in reacting to market trends. Example market trends might be the rumor that the folks over at TriStar have contracted with Dudley Moore to make a comedy about him turning into a teenager. That causes everyone else to dig through the big box of unmade scripts to find something similar. I suspect the made-for-TV knock-offs happen a little differently in that the TV production cycle is short enough to beat the theatrical releases to the screen. Back in those days, what with the long delay to VHS and even longer delay until movies hit the broadcast networks**, a TV knock-off could easily earn some dollars by coattailing off of a “big”-studio marketing budget.
I indulge myself in this bemused wandering because I’m thinking this same sort of thing must have happened in the early twenty-teens relative to the shows I’ve been watching recently. I did make it almost to the end of Season 2 of Ripper Street before it vanished from netflix streaming. This left me free to try another series. Having granted it a week or two of additional time, Netflix is allowing me to watch a season of the series Penny Dreadful before it, too, disappears. The two shows started their runs a little more than a year apart and both take place not only in the same year (more or less) but cover similar subjects. For first impressions’ sake, both shows open with a Ripper murder that isn’t really a Ripper murder, although it does take Penny Dreadful until Episode 2 to delve into the world of Victorian pornography.
Is this a pattern, or coincidence? Did Penny Dreadful copy what British audiences were enjoying or did 2012 see everyone digging for dark dramas set in Victorian London? The beeb’s Sherlock – which I haven’t watched despite it being very highly rated – may well have pushed this trend, itself having started its run in 2010. Certainly Sherlock‘s popularity inspired Elementary to transport Holmes to America and turn Watson into an Asian woman. As I allude to above, however, I think TV is very different than film in its ability to quickly throw up*** responses to competitors’ offerings.
Penny Dreadful is another Showtime series, which means some pretty solid softcore porn in every episode. It also means that the likely landing place for the streaming product is going to be Showtime’s streaming subscription. This being about as far from family fare**** as one can get, I don’t expect to be renting (or buying) the DVDs and finishing what I don’t get to on Netflix. Its a little too lurid for me to admit a strong affinity for it and not quite good enough to override my shame.
Penny Dreadful: Which one? Why, all of them!
a 1-line review
It does, however, do a few things right. As I said, the idea of resurrecting*** the Victorian monster legends is a smart one. It also mixes in a fair helping of embellishments from the variations with which I grew up. Via Anne Rice, we get the Egyptian foundation of the vampire legend. Via The Rocky Horror Picture Show we get a gay Frankenstein. I also must mention that watching Eva Green on-screen is genuinely a pleasure. In fact, I’d have to say this is production well cast all around. The real problem is, I think, is that they have tried to do a little too much at once.
*A quick search for top-grossing women results in a sign of the times. From what I can tell, the top two spots are held by (from 1988’s perspective) men. The Wachowski Brothers, as we would have called them then, tend to blow away any of the fairer-sex challengers with their massive earnings from the Matrix franchise. Progress?
**Yes… there was cable in 1988. I didn’t have it, but normal people did.
***Pun intended, I think.
****Although the series is targeted squarely at the adult audience, it’s the extended sexual congress that makes me want to hide my viewing from my mother. Yes, it is gory and filled with jump scares, but I think the modern viewing audiences is acclimatized to this stuff. Is the sex a part of the story, the art? Or is it just a necessary part of the Showtime marketing proposition? I haven’t watched enough to answer that question.