I don’t think I saw a single Hollywood blockbuster last summer.
I didn’t see “Spider Man 3.” I didn’t see “Ocean’s 13.” I didn’t see “Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End.”
Certainly I was busy doing other things, but for the most part I just wasn’t that excited by the slate of big-budget sequels and franchise installments. I felt like I had seen them all before: the earnest Tobey Maguire as Peter Parker, the sly banter between George Clooney and his pals, and Johnny Depp’s fine work as Capt. Jack Sparrow. It all seemed very repetitive and boring, and I thought I might never go to a big summer movie again.
That was until I caught the preview for “Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.” It was all there: the stirring score, the iconic shots of Harrison Ford with his bullwhip and fedora, the breakneck chase scenes through exotic locales, the archeological mumbo jumbo. It had been a long time since I’d seen an “Indiana Jones” movie, and as the preview played I leaned forward in my seat. (We Fosses love “Indiana Jones.” My dad wanted to name the cat Indy, but we pulled another name — Dunbar — out of the hat.)
In an age of can-you-top-this? special effects, “Indiana Jones” seems to hearken back to a more creative and innocent age, when directors like Steven Spielberg entertained and energized an audience, rather than numbed them into submission with absurd visual pyrotechnics. I must see this movie, I thought. It was the first time since “Star Wars” and “The Matrix Returns” that I’d felt really excited about the return of a Hollywood franchise, and I didn’t care what the critics said, or if the movie was any good, I knew I would march to see “Indiana Jones” like everybody else.
The “Indiana Jones” preview whetted my appetite for summer movies, and I’m also looking forward to “The Dark Knight,” the sequel to “Batman Begins,” and “The Incredible Hulk,” with one of my favorite actors, Edward Norton. Not so much “Get Smart” or “The Love Guru.”
Got a favorite big Hollywood franchise or summer movie? Let me know! I’m pretty traditional — I like “Indiana Jones,” “Star Wars,” and the first two Superman movies.
Last night I sat down and watched the 2006 documentary “The Bridge,” which was inspired by a 2003 New Yorker article, “Jumpers,” that I’ve never forgotten. The article looked at the controversy surrounding efforts to erect a suicide barrier on San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge, where more people have gone to kill themselves than anyplace else on earth. Tad Friend interviewed a couple of the people who have survived the plunge from the Golden Gate Bridge, and what struck me was how these people instantly regretted their decision to jump. “My first thought was ‘What the hell did I just do? I don’t want to die,’” survivor Kevin Hines told Friend. Another survivor, Ken Baldwin, recalled, “I still see my hands coming off the railing. ... I instantly realized that everything in my life that I’d thought was unfixable was totally fixable — except for having just jumped.” (You can find “Jumpers” here. Having lost a close friend to suicide, I was haunted by these comments, and the idea that someone would decide to commit suicide, come up with a plan for doing so and follow through with it, only to regret it when it was too late to change course.
Eric Steel, who directed “The Bridge,” was also haunted by “Jumpers.” After reading the article, he moved from New York City to San Francisco, bought thousands of dollars worth of camera equipment and filmed almost everything that happened on the Golden Gate Bridge for one year. He captured most of the 24 suicides that occurred in 2004 on film, as well as an astonishing scene where a tourist reaches down, lifts a would-be jumper off the ledge and pulls her back to safety. The juxtaposition of the beautiful scenery and these scenes of intense personal despair is fascinating and disturbing, and at the times the film feels uncomfortably like a snuff film. (I was glad to learn, while watching the DVD extras, that Steel and his crew had the number for bridge patrol on their phones, and sometimes managed to make a call before a person jumped.) There are interviews with relatives and friends of many of the jumpers; survivor Hines recounts his struggles with bipolar disorder and his personal belief that God intervened after he jumped off the bridge. At times I found the film difficult to watch, but I was glad I did.
Much has written about Red Sox pitcher Jon Lester and his battle with cancer, and I’m not sure I have anything insightful to say. Lester was dazzling in the clinching game of the World Series last year, and last night he pitched a no-hitter, and if his story isn’t inspirational, I don’t know what is. In any case, congratulations Jon Lester. I can’t wait to see what you will do next.
