Skip to main content

Michelle Pfeiffer: The Story of Us


Revisiting and celebrating the work of Michelle Pfeiffer, the best actress of my lifetime.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm saying Chow Funs, because I love you."
Rob Reiner's The Story of Us (1999) turns twenty this year, and it's really grown on me over the years. After listening to Reiner's commentary track on the recently released Blu-ray edition, I can see why he considers the it one of his best. Mostly met with middling-to-negative reviews upon release, the movie still maintains a devoted fan base. Reiner notes how often people approach him to express much the film means to them. That's due in no small part to a terrific performance from Michelle Pfeiffer.
As a couple experiencing marital strain, Pfeiffer and costar Bruce Willis are called upon to do some heavy lifting, with extreme emotional highs and lows—and lots of shouting and crying. Like the film itself, Willis's performance has also grown on me over time. The actor has been accused of phoning it in at various points in his career, but The Story of Us features a fully engaged Willis. Still, he's no match for the ferocity of an expertly crafted Pfeiffer performance. Stop me if you've heard this one before: she's the heart and soul of the film. Her work as Katie Jordan isn't mentioned enough when discussing her best, which is a shame. She skillfully navigates the character's inner turmoil, creating a performance that has only grown in importance with age and repeat viewings. She's funny, sad, exuberant, melancholy, and so much more, as she paints a compelling picture of Katie as she exists within her relationship with Ben (Willis), both in the present and through Reiner's copious use of flashbacks.
One of the film's best moments is also a perfect showcase of Pfeiffer's extreme vulnerability on screen, a trait that has made her one of our best living actors—okay, the best, in my mind. In this crucial scene, Katie and Ben awkwardly talk about how to tell their kids that they're separating permanently. The conversation is tentative at first, then quickly turns contentious, making it incredibly difficult to watch. Katie and Ben's entire history together is crumbling before our eyes. Pfeiffer's extraordinary reaction shots are a huge reason why the scene is so effective—you can almost feel the tension and animosity radiating off her. She exudes a simmering, volcanic intensity. Pfeiffer also closes the film with one of her all-time best monologues, a rambling, free-form, heartbreaking, funny, tear-filled confessional that is positively jaw-dropping. Technically, it's a stunning achievement for Pfeiffer, as the speech lasts several minutes and calls for her sob her way through much of it yet remain intelligible and emotionally powerful. Alan Zweibel and Jessie Nelson's script and Reiner's simple yet effective direction allow Pfeiffer ample opportunity to shine, as she unloads all of Katie's pent-up, true feelings. It's glorious.
Pfeiffer carries the film brilliantly. The entire performance is a testament to her exceptional talent, and above all, her ability to consistently and effectively make us care deeply for the characters she brings to life. For me, The Story of Us will always be one of her most unsung great performances.

Comments

  1. Was going to check this one out for a blogathon last year, but plonked for The Russia House instead. Love to hear your thoughts on this movie if you review it. From Gill at Realweegiemidget Reviews

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks, Gill! Russia House is a tough one for me, I've been trying to find the words to do a write up on it for a few years now. I have a hard time engaging on an emotional level with that movie, outside of Michelle's character, that is. I find her work in the film exquisite, and she imbues Katya with so many varied layers, and there's so much room for deeper interpretation of the character thanks to her marvelous performance.

      Gee, what I just wrote might be a good starting point for my review! Ha, thanks for sparking that in me! I'll let you know when I get around to doing that one.

      Delete
  2. I still haven't seen this movie yet. I'll definitely have to check it out!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Let me know once you see it! I hope you're doing well so far in 2019, my friend.

      Delete
  3. Pfabulous post MIke. I loved The Story of Us because it didn’t sugar coat anything. At the time it was refreshing change from the sloppy romantic comedies that proliferated. Once again Michelle is "the heart and soul of the film" and her monologue, well it belongs in the pantheon of great Pfeiffer scenes.
    Given Rob Reiner also directed When Harry Met Sally... I always wish Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan could have made a cameo appearance in The Story of Us. No fake orgasms or showstopping moments to take you out of the movie. Just a brief appearance as a nod to the earlier film. Any thoughts?

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

All I Want For Christmas: Phoebe Cates's Monologue in Gremlins

Joe Dante's 1980s classic Gremlins will always be a subversive Christmas favorite. From Spike exploding in the microwave to Mrs. Daigle's "stairlift to hell", the movie is packed with deliciously transgressive moments that turn the holly jolly season right on its ear. None are more memorable, though, than Phoebe Cates delivering her legendary "worst thing that ever happened to me on Christmas" monologue. It's a jaw-dropping, tour-de-force moment, a truly horrific story that's also one of the most darkly comic moments in Christmas movie history. Cates really shines during this scene. There's no denying just how seminal that scene of hers in Fast Times at Ridgemont High was for a generation of young people, but her speech in Gremlins is equally important and a wonderful showcase for her serious and comedic acting skills.  Here's the speech, in its entirety. No Christmas season is complete without at least one viewing ...

Blowing in the Wind: Marilyn Monroe and That Iconic White Dress

This month marks sixty-five years since one of the most iconic moments in twentieth-century popular culture: Marilyn Monroe’s angelic white dress being blown sky high by wind rushing up from a subway grate beneath her feet in the film  The Seven Year Itch . Billy Wilder shot multiple takes, while Sam Shaw snapped photo after photo for what had to be the biggest publicity stunt ever staged at the time. Marilyn wore two pairs of underwear for the shot, yet, as noted in Lois Banner's critical biography Marilyn: The Passion and the Paradox  (2012), "a dark blotch of pubic hair" remained visible to the 100 male photographers and over 1,500 male spectators, all of whom crowded eagerly around the set to gawk and drool.  Due to strict 1950s movie censorship laws, photos had to be doctored to white out the offending blotch, but those in attendance saw it, over and over, shot after shot. Marilyn's husband at the time, the extremely old fashioned Joe DiMaggio, stormed off th...

It Came From the '90s: Kelly Bundy and the Alternative Family Ideal

This series looks back at the 1990s and its influence on the generation of people who came of age during the decade. Very few television series in the 1990s were as polarizing as Married...with Children . People either loved it or they loathed it. TV critics and good upstanding Catholic families like mine fell into the latter category. Soon after it debuted during my first year of junior high in 1987 (not quite the '90s, but on the brink), my parents made it clear that we would not be watching. I believe the words they used were "vulgar," "unfunny," and, one of their perennial favorites, "risque." Of course, this meant it immediately took on a prurient appeal for me. Parents can never win, honestly. Kelly Bundy—the talented Christina Applegate, who never gets enough credit for elevating the blonde airhead trope into an art form—only further piqued my interest. She was like the girls in school with the absurdly voluminous hair and ridiculously sh...

"That girl looks just like Pat Benatar"

Linda, that girl looks just like Pat Benatar. I know. Wait, there are three girls here at Ridgemont who have cultivated the Pat Benatar look. I was just a kid when Fast Times at Ridgemont High opened in 1982. Still though, even at the tender young age of seven, I knew who Pat Benatar was, because a.) her music was all over the radio and even then I recognized the utter awesomeness of her vocal talent in songs like "Hit Me With Your Best Shot", and b.) some of the older girls around town were obviously cribbing their looks—clothes, hair, makeup, strut—from Benatar's own style. Benatar was ubiquitous. So, when I see or hear vintage-era Benatar now, I think of Fast Times , but mostly I remember that ubiquity—of both the performer and her legion of young imitators. I know it's not true, but when I recollect those years I swear every older girl looked like either Benatar, Juice Newton, or Joan Jett. It's easy to forget, years later, that...

Misspent Youth: Joanne Whalley

Looking back at the pop culture mainstays of this Gen-Xer's gloriously misspent youth. One of the most famous and oft-quoted Seinfeld scenes involves Bobka and Jerry's discovery of the existence of Cinnamon Bobka. After Elaine scoffs at the notion of such a thing, even calling it a "lesser Bobka," Jerry unleashes one of the great defenses of a freshly ground spice ever delivered: People love cinnamon. It should be on tables at restaurants along with salt and pepper. Anytime anyone says, "Oh This is so good. What's in it?" The answer invariably comes back, Cinnamon. Cinnamon. Again and again.  Joanne Whalley is like Cinnamon. Yes, I just compulsively double-checked my DVD copy and it's the unrated version, thank you very much. Let me explain. You see, during the formative years of my misspent youth, if I stumbled on a movie featuring the doe-eyed, petite, beautiful English actress, invariably I'd feel like Jerry does about Cin...

Misspent Youth: Randi Brooks

Looking back at the pop culture mainstays of this Gen-Xer's gloriously misspent youth. ***** A note on the series and this site: This might be the final post in the "Misspent Youth" series - at least here. Maybe it'll eventually move with me. Oh, right, I buried the lede: I've moved, and would love for you to come visit me at my new site, The Starfire Lounge ! Moving forward, this site will likely cease to be updated, but will remain around for posterity and your continued reading pleasure. I have a few more things to post here over the coming days or weeks as a sort of "everything must go" send-off to the old girl. I also plan to write a final farewell post to my main online home for the last five years. Stay tuned and, as always, thanks for reading. ***** It's no surprise that the talented but now mostly forgotten Randi Brooks would make an appearance in the Misspent Youth series. She may not be a household name, but her resume...

Margot Kidder and the Childhood Crush That Will Never Die

"I dream about sex, flying, and being chased by Nazis." — Margot Kidder,  Rolling Stone , "The Education of Margot Kidder", 1981 ***** File that quote under, "Reasons why I love Margot Kidder." Last month, Margot hopped a one-way flight with old pal Chris Reeve off into the stars and beyond, where they could reenact their iconic moment from  Superman  (1978), for all eternity. I wrote a little about Margot, here and here , trying to explain why this particular actress meant so much to me as a kid growing up in the 1980s. I thought that would be enough. It wasn't.* Those posts were my fumbling attempts to sort out just how large an impact Margot had on my young life, and, to my present-day surprise, how much she still means to me now. Before news of her death, I hadn't thought of her in ages. I assumed the early childhood crush I harbored for my Lois Lane had dwindled and faded. Ha! I was a fool. My crush on Margot was very ...

It Came From the '90s: My Secret Crush on The Nanny

This series looks back at the 1990s and its influence on the generation of people who came of age during the decade. For six seasons in the 1990s, The Nanny made many of us laugh. At times, it could be downright hilarious . At others, well, not so much . This isn't a review of a '90s sitcom staple, though. No. This is simply an excuse to come clean about something I've kept buried deep inside for over two decades now: I had a secret crush on The Nanny herself, Fran Drescher. The unadulterated nineties-ness of this is practically blinding. And I love it. While The Nanny was sometimes quite funny, thanks largely to Drescher's spunky charisma and wholehearted commitment, the show was never considered hip. People my parents age seemed to love it, but my friends preferred, well, Friends . That smile! Those legs! That dress! It's all overloading my circuits. I watched Friends with my friends, but I also thoroughly enjoyed The Nanny , to...

"Opium Wars" by Zoe Lund

She wants there to be more of her. More space taken by her body, More decibels conquered by her voice, More time by her wakefulness, More equations by her addition. She wants more, I want less. Her blade is rusty, musty, sweaty and vain. I like it clean and sharp and dark-bright. She traffics in surplus, I bare my essentials. Her world is elastic but brittle. Mine is bony but moonlit. Hers flows, she ebbs. Mine ebbs, I flow. She dies in life, I live in death. —Zoe Lund, “Opium Wars”

Double Feature: Michelle Pfieffer and Al Pacino

Revisiting—or in a few cases, watching for the first time—and celebrating the work of Michelle Pfeiffer,  the best actress of my lifetime.* If you've been paying attention around here lately , you know that I adore Michelle Pfeiffer. She's likely my favorite actor, hands down. Al Pacino, however, also sits right there at the top of my personal pantheon. So it's no surprise that their two film collaborations are extremely special to me. They first starred together in Scarface (1983), Brian De Palma's wildly ambitious and searing critique of power, avarice, and the American Dream, as told through the rise and fall of a drug kingpin. That film belongs to Pacino, with Pfeiffer in a smaller, yet crucially important role. Eight years later, they shared the screen again in Frankie and Johnny (1991), Garry Marshall's warm, tender, and honest look at two damaged people falling in love. This time, Michelle's Frankie is the film's real focal point, with Al'...