Continuing her domination of all things nerdy Online Screen Editor, Jess O’Kane, turns her critical gaze onto Hollywood’s favourite hero-outsider to examine just why there’s something about Bill…
It’s a favourite character arc of some less-frequented celebrity magazines to immortalise a point at which an actor passes from being that-cool-guy-who-makes-a-shit-ton-of-money to what they term ‘Hollywood royalty’.
It’s a term that’s been applied of late to Bill Murray, still aging, still cool and still showing up to Cannes (in rainbow plaid).
And yet despite our idolising of his latter day eccentricity, Murray has always had an element of the outsider, possessed of a certain cynical self-assuredness that aged him even when he was first starring in SNL sketches.
Maybe it says something of his unique persona that I can’t remember a time when Murray hasn’t had the kind of mythic presence that seems to demand a more ceremonial title than just “Bill”.
When you take into account his personality – his reticence to embrace Hollywood life, even to have an agent (he has an answering machine, and no, he won’t listen to your message) – it seems extraordinary that Murray has got anywhere near the level of cult adoration that he has.
But then perhaps it’s precisely this rebelliousness that holds the key; from his first major movie roles in the ‘70s to 2012’s exquisite Moonrise Kingdom, Murray has never toed the line, or if he has, it’s been a looping, schizophrenic one.
The Classic
The hipster in me wanted to avoid the obvious choice, but then I remembered that my 10 year-old self once strapped a vacuum cleaner to her back in an effort to recreate a proton pack.
There are so many things I could nerd out on about Ghostbusters; it’s slamming, effortlessly cool theme song; the chemistry Murray shares with his equally geeky co-stars Dan Aykroyd and Harold Ramis; the wonderfully snide romance between Murray and Sigourney Weaver; or the fact that its central conflict is with a giant marshmallow man.
But all of these things are just legs and arms of the film’s overarching commitment to fun. Ghostbusters works because it never pretends to be anything other than what it is – a perfect exercise in mischievousness. That its spirit should inspire kids and the more lonesome awesome adults amongst us to get dressed up is only testament to its frenetic and childish energy. It’s also the film that most clearly defined Murray’s cynical persona, and that’s what would define his output for the next half-decade.
The Cult Favourite
There are potentially many films in the Bill Murray back catalogue that might be described as ‘cult favourites’, but Stripes is one of the those that seems to demand inhalation of a good few illicit substances.
Again pairing Murray with Harold Ramis and director Ivan Reitman, Stripes transfers the same chaotic reverie of Ghostbusters to an oppressive U.S army base, captained by a craggy-faced Warren Oates (The Wild Bunch, Dillinger).
Where earlier Vietnam-era dramedies like M*A*S*H had a barbed sense of humour and definite political consciousness, Stripes purposely avoids any strong articulations, preferring to direct Murray and Ramis’s black outlook at just about anything and everything, and most often nothing at all.
A well-meaning range of performances from John Candy, P.J Soles and Judge Reinhold buoy the last half, which errs on the wrong side of messy.
But in its highest highs (try not rewatching a choreographed march led by Murray), you trust it implicitly, not least because the messiness seems fitting: the fun of Stripes encapsulates a post-war, post-luck, post-employment absurdity.
The Runt
This is probably the kindest negative review I’ll ever write. Because after all, a poor Bill Murray film isn’t as bad as say… a bad Nic Cage movie. And Meatballs isn’t a bad film, by any means.
The first Ramis-Reitman-Murray collaboration on the big screen sees Murray playing a dysfunctional camp counsellor named Tripper, who works in an equally dysfunctional budget summer camp.
The kids are riotous, the food stinks and to make matters worse, the rich kids at nearby Camp Mohawk are going to beat them in the annual Olympiad (again).
In amongst all this evolves a rather touching relationship between Tripper and a young outsider named Rudy (Chris Makepeace), who helps him find love with his headstrong co-counsellor Roxanne (Kate Lynch).
The poetics are limited by clumsy scripting, however; with superb moments (check out Tripper’s “It just doesn’t matter!” speech) undercut by sections of painfully corny slapstick (girls! In bikinis!). That said, ol’ Bill is magnetic as ever, and Meatballs provides enough laughs to cover its uglier parts.
The Verdict
With his latest collaboration with Wes Anderson The Grand Budapest Hotel out next year, Murray is still badass and most definitely still Bill. I can’t wait to see what the plaid-laden twilight years bring.
Jess O’Kane, Online Screen Editor
Think there was a Murray masterpiece that was left off the list? Let us know on Facebook, Twitter or by commenting below.
exeposedev 