Todd Holland
1989
Watched: 02/10/24
Grade: D
This is an unbelievably fascinating cultural artifact, and the veins of discussion are so numerous that it is difficult to know where to start. On the most basic and apparent level, this movie is a ninety minute Nintendo commercial, and I don’t say that to be dismissive as even this element has layers that demand exploration. However, beyond the commercial elements of this project there is the story of a family tragedy, conversations about trauma and healing, independence and negligence, and all this in one of the most confounding uses of the term “family film” in the history of cinema.
It may not seem like it, but there is definitely more to the apparent crass commercialism than might be initially apparent; it is not even as monotone as one might expect. There are two major products that take center stage: Nintendo and Universal Studios. While the former is present nearly from the outset in the form of console and arcade games and developed with references to the Nintendo Power magazine, peripherals like the Power Glove, and the Nintendo tip line, the latter gets more than a little attention as the third act almost becomes a behind the scenes tour of the theme park. There’s no denying the intent here. The producers are using a feature length film to promote Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Ninja Gaiden, Super Mario Bros. 2, Rad Racer, and others all leading to the climactic reveal of Super Mario Bros. 3 which was set for a North American release only two months after the film’s debut.
I’ve no issue with the intent being product focused and children faced; as long as we don’t neglect the intent, and remain consistent and honest, we’ve license to draw meaning from beyond its scope.
This movie is in effect a time capsule for the world of video games. It is a product of a time when the vocabulary of gaming was still in its infancy, the industry was still recovering from the near collapse of the early 80s, and the gulf between the gamer and his parents was extremely wide.
What’s strange is that in many ways the writing betrays an unfamiliarity with its own product and that product’s intended audience. This should not be surprising as all children’s media is crafted by adults, but for this unique moment in history those who were crafting that media found themselves completely divorced from the experience of the audience meant to consume it. When Hans Christian Andersen or J.M. Barrie or A.A. Milne or Lewis Carrol were crafting their masterpieces with children as the designated recipients of their craft, they were using a language and experience that was shared. These writers had childhoods that were not materially different from that of their readers. However, in 1989, there was coming into consciousness a generation of children that would be among the first to have interactive entertainment of a kind and complexity that would be all but incomprehensible to their parents.
The evidence of this is subtle but pervasive. Little things such as Nick Woods(Slater) referring to his brother Corey’s(Savage) Nintendo Entertainment System as a “video game” could be read in three very interesting ways. The first could be a suggestion that even the teenagers of the time were not fluent in video game parlance. The second is that the adult writer simply didn’t know how else to refer to the object(my personal vote). Thirdly, and most intriguingly, is that a proper term did not exist yet in common usage, and the world would have to wait for the console wars before wielding words like “console” and “system” when referring to these items. On the exact opposite end of the spectrum, though still evidence of my point, Sam Woods(Bridges), Corey’s father, claims to have gotten the “scroll weapon” and to have almost beaten “Mecaturtle at the end of level three” while playing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles(1989). Anyone familiar with this iconic but insanely difficult game will remember that it is extremely miserly with both information and directions. “Scroll weapon” and “Mecaturtle” are not terms that can be discerned directly from the text and betray a knowledge at the very least of the instruction manual but more likely the meta discussion of the game present in strategy guides and community circles. In summary, the characters in the film either struggle to use simple terms accurately or seem possessed of specialized information which suggests that the writers had the unenviable task of marketing through dialogue a product in which they were not themselves well versed. [It’s beginning to shock me less and less that a simple movie review can turn into an exercise in Erhman-esque textual criticism].
Putting aside the products that the movie is attempting to sell, there is in a very real sense a film here to discuss, albeit a rather confusing one when it comes to the discussion of tone. While on the surface this movie appears to be a sort of playful road trip adventure, there are several elements that seem to challenge what presents itself as a fun romp toward Video Armageddon. The most apparent of these is the trauma that underlies the Woods’ family dynamic. The father, Sam, struggling to connect with two sons from his first marriage while being legally excluded from the life a third is hardly a standard status quo for a family film. Jimmy Woods(Edwards) becomes largely nonverbal after the death of his twin sister, Jennifer. Nick Woods has an antagonistic relationship with his former stepmother, Christine(Phillips), which predates the death of his half-sister and is indicated as a partial reason for the accident and almost certainly explains his inability to communicate with his father. The Bateman’s struggle for years trying to cope with Jimmy’s trauma induced wandering and see institutionalising him as their only resort. And all of this is without mentioning the life of Haley Brooks(Lewis) a teenage runaway who sees Jimmy’s video game skill as an opportunity for her and her father to have a real home. The children are robbed and assaulted twice, completely neglected by any adult that wasn’t bent on taking advantage of them, and terrifyingly left to their own devices, yet these things are so often played for comic effect(for reference see the music choices made when two adult men stop the truck they’re driving to steal from and abandon the children to whom they had offered a ride).
The point is, that despite how awkwardly handled this story is in its presentation, there’s no denying that there’s an attempt to tell a real story regardless of the impetus for its creation. Were the entirety of the video game content to be removed, I suspect the movie would be more of a family drama akin to Radio Flyer which is hardly a children friendly film in its own right if my harrowing memories of it serve. As it stands, what is presented is a sort of Tommy or Rain Man for children. Even the title of the film suggests the former of these readings.
I think that it is perhaps the film’s commercial and narrative nature warring with itself that contributes to how intriguing it all is. What the movie presents as its climax is in fact nothing of the kind. Other than reuniting the family, the competition does nothing to resolve the narrative conflict. This resolution doesn’t actually occur until the drive home when Jimmy makes the entire family detour at a roadside attraction and forces a confrontation with the real state of their relationships. This turns the entire film upside down and reveals that this structure undermines its own goals; the purpose is not the point.
Over the Course of the film, Corey and Haley posit that a victory at Video Armageddon will prove Jimmy’s capacity and prevent him from being put back in the home and repair both the Woods and Brooks families. It’s perfectly logical from the mind of a child that some demonstration, some financial windfall, some triumph will have some curative power. The film however subtly suggests that all of this thinking is a distraction. The truth is that all the complex electronic entertainment(the video games, televised fame, the theme-parks, and all manner of technological wizardry else) cures nothing. It’s rather a kitchy run-down roadside attraction on the brink of fading out of existence that is the more restorative pilgrimage. Jimmy knows from the beginning where that catharsis lay, and if his damaged family was better able to hear him point them in the right direction(admittedly in his own fractured way) then they would have found all the sooner the healing they didn’t realize they needed.
As so often happens, I seem to have talked myself into a realization. The Wizard suddenly becomes a more fitting title bristling with new meaning. The real wizardy is not in Jimmy’s ability to intuitively play and win any number of video games, but instead his ability to reach through the muting power of his trauma and lead his family to a place of healing, communication, and acceptance, and (just because it’s the way he rolls) he’ll earn $50,000 playing Super Mario Bros. 3 on the way.
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