JOSH AND S.A.M.
A film review by John Walker
Copyright 1993 John Walker
My form of "rating": I saw this first at matinee price--but to get
there, I had to take time off from work. Since I've used up
leave time, I took leave without pay. I don't really want to
think what it works out to, but I figure *it was worth it*.
I'll try to see it again this week at the (far cheaper for me)
full rate. If I can't, it'll be LWOP rates again for another
matinee. And I'll buy the video when it comes out.
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"Expectations" may be an obsession of mine, but I'll say it: *If you can park virtually every expectation at the door*, this will be a flick that can become addictive.
It will hit you on more levels than most three other movies. It's a romp--the sort of thing lots of us wanted to do as kids--screw everything, grab a car, and beat it for the border. It's an adventure--where the stakes are high, and the hero must play everything right or face disaster. It's a comedy--where adults are somewhat silly, and two kids create their own universe. It's sort of like a horror story, but without magic or the supernatural--where the demons are utterly ordinary people doing ordinary sorts of things. And it's a morality play--where the hero has to face himself and his own actions.
But if you can't park the expectations, you may very well hit a wall with this film. Others have.
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Josh (Jacob Tierney), a 12-year-old or so, and Sam (Noah Fleiss), 8 or so, are brothers. Their parents (Stephen Tobolowsky and Joan Allen) are divorced. Sam is sweet kid, a natural jock, and bright--but withdrawn. The other kids call him "Robot" and "Alien". Josh is one of those kids who has given the word "hacker" a bad name. Besides the usual computer stuff, he duplicates credit-card magnetic strips to use the accounts of his mother's boyfriend.
Josh also lies a lot. After the kids get sent to the father's for the end of the summer, Josh's opening gambit (besides previous stories about the boyfriend) is to tell Sam that he (Sam) is really a Strategically Altered Mutant (S.A.M.), and to generate documents to "prove" it. Sam believes it--and the further lies that he's set to be sold to the Pentagon to be a child warrior and that his only hope is to escape to Canada.
When the two are going to be suddenly shuttled back to Mom for a farewell because she's leaving for Europe and dumping them with Dad for a year, Josh embarks on still further lies, that lead to mistaken/fake identity, and a crunch where he has to kill a violent drunk (Chris Penn). (At least Josh thinks he's killed him; he can't find a pulse.)
By the way, have I said that Josh is the *hero*?!
In any event, now they *both* have reason to clear the territory. They steal the drunk's rental car and make their move. Along the way, they'll pick up a friendly hitch-hiker, Alison (Martha Plimpton). But it ain't gonna be smooth sailing.
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When I talk to anyone about a movie, I try to think of two things: what did I go through in seeing the flick, and what do I think other people will do. I'd like to flag things things that I think others have missed, either to warn people of a negative *before* they go, or to point out something that might be attractive.
Before I saw JOSH AND S.A.M., I had signals from two quarters: 1) Stanley Drew Rosenbaum (rosenbau@ucsu.Colorado.EDU); and 2) the reviews of a) James Berardinelli (blake7@cc.bellcore.com) and b) Scott Renshaw, Stanford University (AS.IDC@forsythe.stanford.edu (IDC Database)).
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Rosenbaum seemed to be describing JOSH AND S.A.M. as what I'd call "a romp"--fun, plain and simple. (I refer you to "The JOSH and S.A.M. Audience Participation Guide 1.2" rec.arts.movies thread, among others.)
Well, I'd give a note of caution there. (I'd caution you about doing the Guide's "vocal" parts in a first-run theater!) After the movie jelled, I was wired throughout it. It wasn't simply a nifty comedy. For me, it was an adventure.
The only image I have is that it was like falling onto a sled in winter and going down a totally new hill. In one sense, you're in complete control: turn left, turn right, shift your weight here, drag your foot just a little bit there, the sled goes where you tell it. But there are rocks and trees everywhere, and you can't see very far ahead.
The one thing you can never do is *stop*. Try, and body parts will be decorating the landscape. All you can do is hope that the trail you're making doesn't go off a ledge somewhere, or smack into a dead-end rock.
That's the situation Josh finds himself in.
One test of a movie is whether my attention wanders, whether I think of other stuff while it's running. Two ideas came up, one right after another--only a few times, and JOSH AND S.A.M. immediately got my attention again. The *second* thing was "What's gonna happen?! How's it gonna *end*!?" I could only see terror and disaster. That is *not* what I think of during a light comedy! (Maybe I have a problem with getting into films too easily.)
So, I think I'll use the Guide for *later* viewings, when I'm not so wired. (Let it be noted, however, that if I go to a theater that sells hot dogs, it will be positively disloyal not to buy one or two! Candy bars just won't cut it. Also, the half-pepperoni, half-pineapple pizza *has* acquired a permanent significance. It has only a small role in the film, but I will nonetheless concede to Rosenbaum that it must now be regarded as a cultural icon!)
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But I said that my fear of the end was the *second* thing--what was the first? It was "they [meaning: lots of you folks] are *not* gonna believe this." The closest I could come to finding a neutral term to describe why was "a pervasive air of unreality". And I don't like that term, because in some sense, this film is completely realistic--after you concede *one* premise.
Although I disagree with their conclusions, I have to thank both Berardinelli and Renshaw for stating the real problem very clearly:
Berardinelli: >How much are you willing to suspend your disbelief? In the answer to >that question lies the degree to which you'll buy into the underlying >premise of JOSH AND S.A.M, and how much you will therefore enjoy it.
Renshaw: > Every once in a while, I come upon a movie where I simply can't >get beyond the basic premise; as well as certain individual elements >might be executed, I'm so turned off by that premise that I can't >possibly enjoy the film.
(Note: I want to thank them both for stating the real problem. Too few reviewers in the general press warn us of the decisions *we* make that can radically alter our perception of a film. However, now I'm going to go into what *I* think the root premises of JOSH AND S.A.M. are. I don't want to imply that I'm representing what *Berardinelli or Renshaw* view as the premises.)
To some extent, I think there are *at least* two premises involved in people's perception of JOSH AND S.A.M., but they will both stick in the craw for some people.
The *false* premise, as far as I can see, is to view Josh and Sam as poor-little-abused-kids, or poor-little-disturbed-kids. To mix comedy with such kids is unacceptable: "poor-little-abused-or- disturbed-kids never have a nice day."
Well, first, that's *false* about kids in trouble in the real world. Humor is sometimes what keeps them *alive*. Presenting *both* the humorous aspects *and* the abuse can make a film a lot truer than keeping each in its own tidy little niche.
Regardless of that, however, it's *false* about the film. The screenplay (by Frank Deese) has to walk a very fine line, and does so. Josh and Sam are neither abused nor disturbed--at least no more so than lots of the rest of us.
Yes, the mother seems too self-concerned. Yes, the boyfriend seems like a Continental lounge lizard. Yes, the father is a bit of a jerk. Yes, his two stepsons are dumb and smug and worse jerks. Yes, Josh and Sam have both coped poorly with the breakup, Josh by withdrawing into computers and lying and petty larceny, Sam by withdrawing into himself except to get into fights.
*None of those are neat things*, and the screenplay does not pass them off as trivial. They're real. For Josh and Sam, they could develop into *major* problems, and right now the parents are doing *nothing* constructive. But those problems are not yet the stuff of high melodrama--sympathy and concern, yes, but not pegging Josh and Sam as basket cases or everyone else as creeps. No matter how lousy their situations are, many kids go through similar things--*most* pull out of them before things become a disaster. Yes, some don't, and maybe Josh and Sam were turning into two who wouldn't. But that point hadn't been reached yet.
(If either Josh or Sam is a bona fide basket case, we shouldn't even *think* about what many average kids are--much less the average USENET reader!)
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But there's another premise, and it's this one I think that gives JOSH AND S.A.M. an air of unreality. It's remarkably simple.
Josh is a liar, right? He can tell his mother lies about her boyfriend; she ignores him. But when he once tells Sam that Sam is a mutant, the lying game changes. Sam *believes* him. Why? Because it *fits*. He's really got a lot of electronics inside? It explains *everything*. Why he feels cold inside, why the other kids think he's an alien, a robot, why he thinks about being dead.
You and I can see those as the result of his not being able to handle the breakup. But for Sam, that's just how he *feels*. Now he's got an *explanation*. (Do you remember when it seemed entirely plausible that if you swallowed an orange seed, it would sprout into a tree in your stomach? Or lots of comparable ideas?)
With further lies, the same thing will happen to Josh again: people will *believe* him. The film establishes clearly that Josh's lies--*for the people he tells them to*--will be *plausible*, even *wanted*. Worse, when he tries to call a lie back, they won't believe him; they'll have too much invested in the belief. Or they'll be out for revenge at being betrayed. He will have to follow the lie out to its end--even if it means apparently killing someone.
Josh tells a series of lies that leads to that event--after that, the escape.
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Now, I've said that Josh's lies will be believed. What if they would be *real*? What sort of a story would we have then? We'd have a story line that goes back to Midas and underlies any number of horror stories: What you *say* (want, ask for, etc.) becomes *real*--the protagonist calls the demon into being and must thereupon destroy it or be destroyed. JOSH AND S.A.M. is a non-magical, utterly "realistic" working out of the same idea.
*That* strikes me as the root premise of JOSH AND S.A.M.. If you're willing to accept that premise, JOSH AND S.A.M. can be a romp or an adventure, but the events of the story do *not* thereafter require any great suspension of disbelief.
The premise itself doesn't seem to be that strange. It's starkly simple. It's a traditional staple of literature dealing with the supernatural. What's so wrong with giving a perfectly naturalistic interpretation? It's been used in comedy. And haven't we seen small cases like it in real life?
Of course, maybe we'd rather not think too closely about what it would be like if everything we *said* were believed or actually came true!
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But conceding the premise can do more than simply allow us to enjoy a romp or and adventure. It also opens up a further layer of meaning. Josh has to deal with the consequences of his words. And his habit of casual lying can no longer be casual. Now, even if *must* lie, he has to realize that his words have consequences. It's no longer a game.
When Sam buys into the S.A.M. lie so completely, Josh realizes how cruel he's been--to someone who has never done anything to him. Josh has to face the fact that Sam is a nice sweet kid that he's been jealous of because Sam can do things that he finds next to impossible.
The movie, then, is to some extent more about Josh than Sam because Josh created the lies, and must work them out. Sam's working out of the lies is his own journey, too, but it's also under Josh's tutelage. (I would like to write something strictly from Sam's perspective, but, let's face it, this review is already *huge*!)