I love Elaine but, you know, in the building.

Seinfeld

2.8: The Apartment

The Premise

Jerry suggests Elaine rents the recently vacated apartment above him, but quickly regrets the idea.

Observational

This was Peter Mehlman’s first script for the series and, while you can see why Larry and Jerry instantly welcomed him into the fold, it’s a patchy affair. The two key plot threads are strong enough (the potential problems of having an ex living in the same building and the idea that a wedding ring is a chick magnet) but there is something of a standardised sitcom feeling to the structure.

Most evident is the awkward inclusion of Jerry’s landlord Harold (Glenn Shadix, of Beetlejuice and Heathers fame) and his partner Manny (Tony Plana). These scenes are clumsily constructed, with Jerry required to leave his apartment several times to engage in a stagey conversation in the hallway. This kind of interaction exposes Seinfeld’s shortcomings as an actor, and the scenes are heavy with dead air.

George’s subplot sees him in full miscalculating, misfiring mode as he decides to wear the aforementioned wedding ring (band) to improve his chances with the ladies (Kramer: You know, I don’t know why you’re fooling around with his ring. I’ve been telling you, get yourself some plugs – or a piece”). He gets to test his theory at a party hosted by one of Elaine’s friends, unsubtly waving his ring about (“Yeah, my wife couldn’t make it today”). Of course, he’s on the receiving end of a string of propositions, if only he weren’t married (“That’s too bad, because I really have a thing for bald guys with glasses”).

His back-and-forth with Jerry over how he is the world’s biggest idiot (“No one’s a bigger idiot than me”) displays classic George perversity; at least he gets to be good at something, even if it’s something not very good.

Elaine’s utters her first “Get out!” of the series as she pushes Jerry in response to the news that not only does she have an apartment but also it is dirt-cheap. Her jubilation over the death of Mrs Hudwalker (“She died!”) is just the kind of remote, empathy-free response the show will become famous for (and conclude with), as the characters put their selfishness front-and-centre without a semblance of moderation.

So Jerry’s reaction, which is underhand in the extreme, might be seen as justice if wasn’t aimed at one of the few people he might be expected to go that extra distance for. Getting cold feet over his idea (“I’ll be here all the time!” Elaine tells him), he is relieved to hear that the price has gone up (extoling a sudden, and brief, belief in a divine plan). Until Kramer volunteers him to lend Elaine the money.

Kramer: Wait, you didn’t want her in the building?

Jerry: No, I didn’t.

Kramer: Well, uh, why did you loan her the $5,000 then?

The solution arrives when Kramer finds someone will to put up $10,000. It’s pretty lowdown and remorseless (as far as we know, Elaine never finds out), and comes across as somehow different to the quartet’s usual misanthropy; his “I love Elaine but, you know, in the building” doesn’t really cut it. As it turns out, the guy who moves in above has regular band practice (Kramer: Oh, I love the one they do right after this one) so Jerry’s no winner (Elaine: Wow, you’re right. That is loud). But even that seems like pat sitcom justice, rather than something really clever.

Kramer is beginning to make more of a splash, putting his foot in it on Jerry’s behalf and then coming up with a solution that only makes things worse. He’s also sporting a different look (“I moussed up”). Jerry is quite ready to insult Kramer (“You see, you’re not normal. You’re a pod”) because he knows he won’t take offence; he really doesn’t perceive things the way everyone else does.

If the episode is a bit of shift down in quality compared to the last few, the stand-up bits are surprisingly good; Jerry’s explanation of why the bridge of the Starship Enterprise is the ultimate male fantasy (it’s the perfect living room, with a big screen TV in the middle), although the mistaking someone as pregnant is over-familiar. When the show actually does this within the story, with Kramer in the driver’s seat, it’s very funny, however.

Quotable

Jerry: She died.

Elaine: She died?

Jerry: She died!

Elaine: SHE DIED!

Elaine: Get out!

Woman: What does she do?

George: She’s an entymologist. Er, you know. Bees, flies, gnats.

George: You have no idea what an idiot is.

Jerry: This is an idiot.

George: Is that right? I just threw away a lifetime of guilt-free sex and floor seats for every sporting event in Madison Square Garden. So please, show some respect. For I am Costanza, Lord of the Idiots.

Verdict:

Your Mickey Mouse is one big stupid dope!

Enemy Mine (1985) (SPOILERS) The essential dynamic of Enemy Mine – sworn enemies overcome their differences to become firm friends – was a well-ploughed one when it was made, such that it led to TV Tropes assuming, since edited, that it took its title from an existing phrase (Barry Longyear, author of the 1979 novella, made it up, inspired by the 1961 David Niven film The Best of Enemies ). The Film Yearbook Volume 5 opined that that Wolfgang Petersen’s picture “ lacks the gritty sauciness of Hell in the Pacific”; John Boorman’s WWII film stranded Lee Marvin and Toshiro Mifune on a desert island and had them first duking it out before becoming reluctant bedfellows. Perhaps germanely, both movies were box office flops.

If I do nothing else, I will convince them that Herbert Stempel knows what won the goddam Academy Award for Best goddam Picture of 1955. That’s what I’m going to accomplish.

Quiz Show (1994) (SPOILERS) Quiz Show perfectly encapsulates a certain brand of Best Picture nominee: the staid, respectable, diligent historical episode, a morality tale in response to which the Academy can nod their heads approvingly and discerningly, feeding as it does their own vainglorious self-image about how times and attitudes have changed, in part thanks to their own virtuousness. Robert Redford’s film about the 1950s Twenty-One quiz show scandals is immaculately made, boasts a notable cast and is guided by a strong screenplay from Paul Attanasio (who, on television, had just created the seminal Homicide: Life on the Streets ), but it lacks that something extra that pushes it into truly memorable territory.

Say hello to the Scream Extractor.

Monsters, Inc. (2001) (SPOILERS) I was never the greatest fan of Monsters, Inc. , even before charges began to be levelled regarding its “true” subtext. I didn’t much care for the characters, and I particularly didn’t like the way Pixar’s directors injected their own parenting/ childhood nostalgia into their plots. Something that just seems to go on with their fare ad infinitum. Which means the Pixars I preferred tended to be the Brad Bird ones. You know, the alleged objectivist. Now, though, we learn Pixar has always been about the adrenochrome, so there’s no going back…

Other monks will meet their deaths here. And they too will have blackened fingers. And blackened tongues.

The Name of the Rose (1986) (SPOILERS) Umberto Eco wasn’t awfully impressed by Jean Jacques-Annaud’s adaptation of his novel – or “ palimpsest of Umberto Eco’s novel ” as the opening titles announce – to the extent that he nixed further movie versions of his work. Later, he amended that view, calling it “ a nice movie ”. He also, for balance, labelled The Name of the Rose his worst novel – “ I hate this book and I hope you hate it too ”. Essentially, he was begrudging its renown at the expense of his later “ superior ” novels. I didn’t hate the novel, although I do prefer the movie, probably because I saw it first and it was everything I wanted from a medieval Sherlock Holmes movie set in a monastery and devoted to forbidden books, knowledge and opinions.

No one can be told what the Matrix is. You have to see it for yourself.

The Matrix (1999) (SPOILERS) Twenty years on, and the articles are on the defining nature of The Matrix are piling up, most of them touching on how its world has become a reality, or maybe always was one. At the time, its premise was engaging enough, but it was the sum total of the package that cast a spell – the bullet time, the fashions, the soundtrack, the comic book-as-live-action framing and styling – not to mention it being probably the first movie to embrace and reflect the burgeoning Internet ( Hackers doesn’t really count), and subsequently to really ride the crest of the DVD boom wave. And now? Now it’s still really, really good.

All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies.

Watership Down (1978) (SPOILERS) I only read Watership Down recently, despite having loved the film from the first, and I was immediately impressed with how faithful, albeit inevitably compacted, Martin Rosen’s adaptation is. It manages to translate the lyrical, mythic and metaphysical qualities of Richard Adams’ novel without succumbing to dumbing down or the urge to cater for a broader or younger audience. It may be true that parents are the ones who get most concerned over the more disturbing elements of the picture but, given the maturity of the content, it remains a surprise that, as with 2001: A Space Odyssey (which may on the face of it seem like an odd bedfellow), this doesn’t garner a PG certificate. As the makers noted, Watership Down is at least in part an Exodus story, but the biblical implications extend beyond Hazel merely leading his fluffle to the titular promised land. There is a prevalent spiritual dimension to this rabbit universe, one very much

In a few moments, you will have an experience that will seem completely real. It will be the result of your subconscious fears transformed into your conscious awareness.

Brainstorm (1983) (SPOILERS) Might Brainstorm have been the next big thing – a ground-breaking, game-changing cinematic spectacle that had as far reaching consequences as Star Wars (special effects) or Avatar (3D) – if only Douglas Trumbull had been allowed to persevere with his patented “Showscan” process (70mm film photographed and projected at 60 frames per second)? I suspect not; one only has to look at the not-so-far-removed experiment of Ang Lee with Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk , and how that went down like a bag of cold sick, to doubt that any innovation will necessarily catch on (although Trumbull at least had a narrative hinge on which to turn his “more real than real” imagery, whereas Lee’s pretty much boiled down to “because it was there”). Brainstorm ’s story is, though, like its title, possibly too cerebral, too much concerned with the consciousness and touting too little of the cloyingly affirmative that Bruce Rubin inevitably brings to his screenplays. T

You ever heard the saying, “Don’t rob the bank across from the diner that has the best donuts in three counties”?

2 Guns (2013) (SPOILERS) Denzel Washington is such a reliable performer, that it can get a bit boring. You end up knowing every gesture or inflection in advance, whether he’s playing a good guy or a bad guy. And his films are generally at least half decent, so you end up seeing them. Even in Flight (or perhaps especially in Flight ; just watch him chugging down that vodka) where he’s giving it his Oscar-nominatable best, he seems too familiar. I think it may be because he’s an actor who is more effective the less he does. In 2 Guns he’s not doing less, but sometimes it seems like it. That’s because the last person I’d ever expect blows him off the screen; Mark Wahlberg.

Piece by piece, the camel enters the couscous.

The Forgiven (2021) (SPOILERS) By this point, the differences between filmmaker John Michael McDonagh and his younger brother, filmmaker and playwright Martin McDonagh, are fairly clearly established. Both wear badges of irreverence and provocation in their writing, and a willingness to tackle – or take pot-shots – at bigger issues, ones that may find them dangling their toes in hot water. But Martin receives the lion’s share of the critical attention, while John is generally recognised as the slightly lesser light. Sure, some might mistake Seven Psychopaths for a John movie, and Calvary for a Martin one, but there’s a more flagrant sense of attention seeking in John’s work, and concomitantly less substance. The Forgiven is clearly aiming more in the expressly substantial vein of John’s earlier Calvary, but it ultimately bears the same kind of issues in delivery.

Maybe the dingo ate your baby.

Seinfeld 2.9: The Stranded The Premise George and Elaine are stranded at a party in Long Island, with a disgruntled hostess.

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

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