Just go back. Pretend the whole thing never happened.

Seinfeld

2.12: The Revenge

The Premise

George tenders his resignation, hurling abuse at his boss. He thinks better of his decision and decides to show up for work on Monday morning, as if nothing has happened. Jerry believes the laundrette manager has stolen $1,500 he left in his laundry bag. George and Kramer plan respective revenges.

Observational

You might expect some of the more absurd elements here to come from Larry Charles (the Kramer plotline in particular) but this one’s from the other Larry, as anyone who has heard his Saturday Night Live story will know (half of the series’ more extreme ideas are rooted in David’s cantankerous experiences). Basically, he did what George does; resigned out of frustration, thought better of it, then returned to work.

Jason Alexander has told how he modified his initial Woody Allen-esque take on George after he realised that Costanza was David’s alter-ego. It would be next to impossible to imagine someone with the demeanour of Allen launching into George’s splenetic outburst. Wonderfully, it comes not out of some noble value system or sense of honour but because George has been barred from the executive bathroom (for one so bowel movement conscious it is a blow, but still). This bit did come from Charles; he would sneak a pee (or two) in David and Seinfield’s en suite toilet.

George’s self-programming (“You’re emotional!”) might have worked if not for a boss who reveals a particularly cruel streak. But then, Levitan (Fred Applegate) has to be mean enough that you’re at least half on board with George’s revenge.

Levitan: You can’t beat me. That’s why I am here and you are there. Because I’m a winner and I’ll always be a winner and you’ll always be a loser.

Patrika Darbo (who can be found in small roles in a couple of Joe Dante movies) makes an impression as the large, loud and abrasive Glenda ,whom George eventually persuades to do a runner by threatening to pull her wig off. His plan gets a fair-minded response from Jerry (“You’ve really gone mental!”) but is welcomed by Elaine. An unlikely team up between Elaine and George will often make for great chemistry going forward (both getting along and feuding); George’s “God, I’ve never felt so alive” marks him out as a much geeky version of David than David comes across as, though. The ensuing scene is a showcase for Louise-Dreyfus, and she and Applegate are a tour de force as she steams him up with a tall story about her passion for naturism (“I cook naked, I clean naked, I drive naked”). It’s a lovely twist too that Levitan is so upbeat he offers George his job back, yet is so insulting to him in the process (“our little shrimpy friend”) that George would rather face the unemployment line (“Drink up”).

Jerry and Kramer team up in what looks at first sight like a something-or-nothing plot. Jerry understandably doesn’t want his “guys” sharing a washing machine with Kramer’s (he pays to have them washed separately). Arguably, Jerry’s sudden remembrance that he left his money in the bag is a bit crowbarred. But it’s excused by the opportunity this gives Michael Richards (ever the perfectionist, using a real bag of cement) to give his most slapstick performance so far. Just the idea of filling one of Vic’s (John Capodice) machines with cement is lunatic enough, but Kramer’s acrobatic antics and Vic’s nonplussed response pay it off perfectly. That said, I don’t think it really needs them making amends when Jerry’s money shows up; it feels like a very “Network-friendly” moral ending (although I doubt Kramer would have been up for it on his own).

The Revenge is also notable for Newman’s off-screen suicide threats (voiced by Larry David but redubbed with Wayne Knight for repeats). This is very much pre-formed Newman, who has “no job, no women” (hasn’t he been a postman forever when we actually meet him?) and Kramer’s dismissiveness of his tendencies is pure David (Jerry: What did you say?, Kramer: I said, “jump!”)

Quotable

George: I’m done! I will not work for you again! You have no brains, no ability, no nothing. I quit!

George: “Just go back. Pretend the whole thing never happened.”

George: Do they pay people to watch movies? Movies, I like movies.

George: I’m going to slip him a Mickey.

Jerry: What, in his drink? Are you out of your mind? What are you, Peter Lorre?

Jerry: Maybe we should call this off?

Kramer: Come on, what’s the big deal? I’m just going to put a little concrete in the washing machine.

Elaine: So, I’m going to a nudist colony next week.

Levitan: Who are you?

Elaine: Oh, you don’t wanna know mister. I’m trouble.

Elaine: Would you close your eyes for a second? I want to tell you a secret about my bra.

George: I like horses. Maybe I could be a stable boy.

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.

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.

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.

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…

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

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.

He tasks me. He tasks me, and I shall have him.

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982) (SPOILERS) I don’t love Star Trek , but I do love Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan . That probably isn’t just me, but a common refrain of many a non-devotee of the series. Although, it used to apply to The Voyage Home (the funny one, with the whales, the Star Trek even the target audience for Three Men and a Baby could enjoy). Unfortunately, its high regard has also become the desperate, self-destructive, song-and-verse, be-all-and-end-all of the overlords of the franchise itself, in whichever iteration, it seems. This is understandable to an extent, as Khan is that rare movie sequel made to transcendent effect on almost every level, and one that stands the test of time every bit as well (better, even) as when it was first unveiled.

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

They say if we go with them, we'll live forever. And that's good.

Cocoon (1985) Anyone coming across Cocoon cold might reasonably assume the involvement of Steven Spielberg in some capacity. This is a sugary, well-meaning tale of age triumphing over adversity. All thanks to the power of aliens. Substitute the elderly for children and you pretty much have the manner and Spielberg for Ron Howard and you pretty much have the approach taken to Cocoon . Howard is so damn nice, he ends up pulling his punches even on the few occasions where he attempts to introduce conflict to up the stakes. Pauline Kael began her review by expressing the view that consciously life-affirming movies are to be consciously avoided. I wouldn’t go quite that far, but you’re definitely wise to steel yourself for the worst (which, more often than not, transpires). Cocoon is as dramatically inert as the not wholly dissimilar (but much more disagreeable, which is saying something) segment of Twilight Zone: The Movie directed by Spielberg ( Kick the Can ). There

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

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