OK film fans, I'd love to post a happy new review for you tonight. I'd love to sit here and spin tales of enthusiasm, hope and joy. But I'm not feeling it. As for what I am feeling tonight, well there's a little self pity mixed in with some disillusionment but the rest is pure anger; mind warping, speech nullifying and soul numbing anger. I'd like to say the anger is aimed outwards, towards a person or problem, and to be sure there is some of that, but most of it is self castigation. As usual I hope the anger will force enlightenment and create resolve to act, but I can't say I think that works anymore. I used to believe in becoming "fighting mad" as a way to motivate yourself, whether it was in a game, the pursuit of a woman or in your career.
But after 20 plus years I'm not really seeing any results here. I seem to be stuck in a cycle of hope, action, disappointment and apathy. I don't think I'm the only one, but sometimes it feels like it. Or at the very least I'm the only one who's consistently angry about it. I've posted a couple of times before about nostalgia and how I feel it's been severely misconstrued in our culture. But our culture, along with most others, seems to have an arcane ability to reduce things to their lowest common denominator, separate the wheat from the chaff and proclaim the chaff delicious. Perhaps it's just me, perhaps I'm the odd man out and I just need to get over it. But I can't help but think sometimes the reason we as a society champion mediocrity is because we fear the truth; the vast majority of us are mediocre and all the aspirations in the world won't change the outcome.
Big Night is a great overlooked little film about a great overlooked little Italian restaurant named Paradise. The Paradise is going under despite the love and talent of the two immigrant brothers who run it, Primo (Tony Shalhoub), who's a master chef, and Secondo (Stanley Tucci), his younger brother who realizes his brother's genius but fears his inflexibility will cost them their dream. Primo creates only the finest dishes, served in a manner befitting their elegance. But the customers of the late 50s know nothing of classic Italian dishes; they only want spaghetti and meatballs with lots of red sauce. And down the road at a very successful Italian restaurant, run by the brothers' friendly competitor Pascal (Ian Holm), the customers get exactly what they want. Pascal has learned the lesson taught in America, the average man wants a meal and not a sumptuous feast. He is too tired from work to be enlightened by his food.
Even Pascal recognizes the genius of Primo, but when Secondo goes behind his brothers back to get a loan in hopes of keeping the Paradise afloat, Pascal refuses. Instead he makes a grand offer; he happens to be friends with the great Italian-American singer Louis Prima and will arrange for the singer and his band to stop by the restaurant. The visit will be reported in all the papers and create a boost in their business. The offer accepted, the brothers prepare a feast of epic proportions with all of their closest friends, secret lovers and prospective investors in attendance.
I'll not give away the ending, but in this little film about a small restaurant are lessons about many important things, the American dream, family obligations and love; but also about how much we lose as a society when we champion the mediocre. We lose the magnificent gifts of the geniuses amongst us and sometimes, without ever knowing it, we lose sight of the spark of genius in us all. I am by no means a genius, but I rightly fear losing my spark to the cycle of mediocrity burgeoning within the confines of my three walled servitude. And the fear, buoyed by anger, is rising.
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