Going in Style: the Willful Ignorance of Modern American Film

The 1970s, for those of us who experienced it first hand, kind of sucked. We lost a war. We had the hostage crisis. We had the gas crisis. We had the crisis of faith. Malaise, depression, and disco. Pastels. The right-wing orthodoxy states that these multitudinous crises paved the way for the savior Ronald Reagan to ride in and restore our greatness. The left-wing prefers to see it as the beginning of the annihilation of the once-great middle class.

Im not here to opine on any of that. I write about movies.

Two movies the same movie actually, but worlds apart. In 1979, writer-director Martin Brest, who would go on to direct several modest successes before crashing and burning on the banks of Gigli, made a caper comedy about three elderly men robbing a bank. He got beloved veterans George Burns, Art Carney, and Lee Strasberg to play the old guys, put some Groucho Marx masks on them, and created a nice little distraction, with a degree of heart and a degree of social commentary.

Now in 2017, actor-turned-director Zach Braff has filmed a remake. Braffs directorial career began with the promising take on the over-medicated youth of the new millennium Garden State and continued with a rather thin dramedy called Wish I Was Here, better known for its Kickstarter funding than its actual content. But his newest movie represents a rather significant regression from those promising-yet-modest origins. And therein lies a tale.

In order to make the point I want to make, I have to reveal the endings of both versions of Going in Style, so I suppose SPOILER ALERT is necessary. But really, anyone familiar with the cinematic traditions of the two eras in question will not be at all surprised by the revelation. In Martin Brests 1979 version, two of the three heroes end up dead, while the third goes to prison. Jump ahead to 2017 and Braff is not killing anyone. The movie flirts with Morgan Freemans serious health condition, because Freemans character Willie is quite old and has a life-threatening kidney condition. But though he ends up in the hospital, everything turns out just fine for Willie. The new version also flirts with the likely capture of the robbers, but the police are thwarted for reasons I will get too shortly. In the end, everyone is happy. One of the heroes even gets to marry Ann-Margret.

Perhaps the sad fate of the three heroes in 1979 was a bit too harsh for a comedy, and yet, Brest managed to walk a pretty good tightrope. He injected a sense of accomplishment and self-value into three men who had seen their lives evaporate before their eyes. Even in death and capture, there was a sense of triumph. And, whats more, Brest didnt dumb down the situation. Their predicament grew out of desperation. Their solution was one of violence. This was a comedy, but it did not ignore the serious environment which provided its underpinning.

By contrast, Braffs Pollyannaish remake is a mere lark. It pays lip service to the gritty reality facing pensioners in an era of an ever-widening wealth gap. But there is no real pain. No genuine sacrifice. No actual cost. Just chuckle along with our benevolent cinematic grandpas. Everything will turn out just fine.

I have been writing about this infantilization of American cinema for a while now. I previously compared Brad Peytons 2015 disaster film San Andreas to Ronald Neames 1972 disaster film The Poseidon Adventure. Neither movie is making anyones Ten Best list. But it is instructive to note that in 1972, Neame actually killed off several of his good guys, including his primary hero. In Peytons movie, one barely-seen good guy dies off almost immediately, and thats it. (Assuming, of course, you dont count the thousands of extras who met their maker in the glory of fabulous, full-color CGI.) In other words, there was a time when American film actually recognized that serious situations required sacrifice and demanded a price. But not in 2017.

You want to know the most maddening thing about the new Going in Style? I mentioned above that the police almost catch the heroes. The reason they do not is because an adorable little girl an eye witness to the robbery who could identify Willie chooses to cover for him. Why? Well, he is Morgan Freeman, after all. Now, in the original Going in Style, though the heroes are either caught or dead by the end, the money is never recovered. Thats because they have sent it on anonymously to a nice-guy nephew who is in desperate need himself.

Think about that for a moment. In 1979, there was a recognition of the fact that the older generation owed something to its descendants. That there was value in providing for future generations. That they could be givers and not takers. Where has that ideal gone in todays deny climate change repeal the inheritance tax and dont even think about touching any of my entitlements era? To add the ultimate insult to the youth of today, Braff demands that the adorable little girl the same little girl who will one day show her children pictures of the extinct polar bear, who will walk past the gated homes of the rich on her way to the line which doles out increasingly scarce water, who will wonder why she was abandoned by her parents and grandparents is required to actually be complicit in the enrichment of the generation which is abandoning her. She has to offer up her cute little smile and assure us that everything will be all right. And that appears to me to be the other great opioid problem we have these days. Pop culture, now a product of the great conglomerates, serving up pap that placates and numbs and plasters a dumb smile on everyones face.

But perhaps I am being too much of a Cassandra. After all, its only a movie. A comedy at that. And you know what I hear? Dwayne Johnson may be making a sequel to San Andreas. Maybe the boys from the new Going in Style can team up again and take down another boogeyman. I sure would like to see that. Then it will all be OK. Everything is going to be just fine.