Father
of the Bride
Some movies just impart good
feelings. Father of the Bride boasts a user-friendly narrative. From the beginning we know how it ends, and
the protagonist explains to us how he is feeling all through the movie, so it’s
impossible to get lost. Additionally,
millions of American dads watching this movie have seen their sweet little girl
grow up and get hitched; once these proud papas catch the spirit of the movie
and find themselves identifying with the likable protagonist, they’ll project
their own experiences onto the canvas of the story. And so they’ll be shedding a tear for, or
laughing at, the memories of their own lives.
They’ll be enjoying the movie they want to see.
But the apparent intent of director
Charles Shyer to make the characters universal renders them bland. Even the wedding vows are complicit: “I, Bryan Mackenzie, take thee, Annie Banks,
to be my wedded wife, to love and to comfort from this day forward.” And then
Annie says the same thing. There’s no mention of fidelity, riches/poverty,
sickness or health. There’s no ‘’til
death’ and, of course, there’s no ‘love, honor, and obey’ nor ‘God.’ These vows are toothless.
Of course, such plastic wedding vows could
be a reflection of the filmmaker’s beliefs, rather than an instance of
self-restraint for the sake of broad box office appeal. Notice the characters never talk about how
important marriage is. When George
wrestles with supporting Annie’s decision to wed, the audience laughs at
George’s illogic and blustery discomfiture.
The wedding dominates everything.
The marriage is an afterthought. A
significant appraisal of the institution is never presented, and the wedding is
the star, just as it was for millions of unhappy American newlyweds who now
marvel at the warped priorities of their engagement.
Offending people is inevitable. Make the couple intimately familiar with each
other and conservatives frown.
Make the couple intentionally chaste and liberals are insulted. Carrying forward the idea of making the film
as accessible to as many different people as possible, drop the scene where,
after meeting Bryan, Steve Martin and Diane Keaton discuss their pre-wedding
sexin’ (it’s a momentum killer anyway).
Then imply that Annie and Bryan have plenty of the motive, means, and
opportunity, with the evidence of execution just out of reach. All it would take are some slight adjustments
to the dialogue:
·
“Remember that place we
stayed in Tuscany?”
“That
was very good of Michael and Luisa to come along.”
·
“I came to get my
sneakers. I think I left them in Annie’s room last night.
All I
know is I left here barefoot.”
·
“Remember to fasten your
condom.”
“Dad!”
“Seatbelt! I mean ‘seatbelt.’”
“Don’t
worry, Mr. Banks, Annie’s in good hands with me, like Nina was with you.”
But, really, Father of the Bride is hard to fault. It’s funny, boasts an outrageously original supporting turn by Martin Short, moves briskly, and wisely limits our perspective to George Banks and his daughter. It establishes the protagonist’s world as ideally secure—great job, great town, great car, great house, great wife—so when his daughter drops the engagement bomb, we can understand George’s reluctance to face this big an adjustment. And it features some truly cinematic moments, such as George seeing his grown-up daughter as a little girl in pigtails, and the backyard barbecue wedding reception. While taking notice that all movies say something even when the filmmakers hope to say nothing, Father of the Bride is to be enjoyed and revisited, especially when real-life wedding bells are ringing.