The Sheila Variations

PART ONE: Ron Howard's Skyward (with particular praise for Ben Marley)

... because I know you're all dying for it

A morose wheelchair-bound heroine. And Bette Davis. And hot Ben Marley in tight pants and cowboy boots. Fasten your seat belt, Stevie, it's going to be a bumpy night!

In other words: Joy.

The funniest thing is that after Keith, Dan and I saw it - Dan told me he liked my version better. You know, the one I acted out for him on that fateful first night when the words "Suzy Gilstrap" were first said to me, and the entirety of Skyward came rushing back into my head.

Here we go.

Ron Howard's Skyward:

We open in a suburban home where all is chaos. Marion Ross, as the mother, is bustling around trying to get organized. Packing is going on. She is yelling at everyone, trying to wrassle up the troops. Her one daughter (played by Lisa Whelchel) is crying on the phone with her boyfriend saying things like, "I'll always love you! I promise!" Clu Gulagher, as the father, is in the bathroom, taking apart the toilet. We'll understand in a bit that he is removing the whatchamacallit that allows Suzy Gilstrap to go to the bathroom - but in that first moment, we haven't seen Gilstrap yet, we don't know the lay of the land. It is apparent that the family is getting ready to move. The car is parked out front. Marion Ross is losing her shit ... begging Lisa to get off the phone, telling her husband to not lift certain things ("you know what the doctor said") and basically being a pain in the ass.

I adore Marion Ross.

Then she opens the door to a room we haven't gone into yet. We then get a closeup of Gilstrap, staring out the window.

Marion Ross' energy changes here, gets quiet, and gentle, maybe even a little bit condescending. Says, "It's time to go, sweetie. You ready?"

Gilstrap drags her eyes away from the sky, and nods. Then we get a full view of the room and see that she is in a wheelchair.

A directorial choice from Howard. (It was funny - Keith and Dan commented on a couple of these choices where Howard was creative, trying to see what the camera could do, how he could illuminate a scene visually and not just rely on Potsie's script. I mean, most of it was kid's stuff - but still, you can feel a director struggling to be free.)

Lisa (the sister) is devastated that they are moving because she is in love and will miss her boyfriend. Julie sits out by the car in her wheelchair, staring up, and you wonder, "What is up with this chick? Do I have to spend two hours with this non-verbal drip?"

The family gets in the car and takes off as the credits roll. It's a long ride. This is a big move. We learn later that they have moved from St. Louis to Texas because Dad got a transfer with his job. As they drive over the highways, Gilstrap sits in the backseat staring up at the sky. Naturally.

Then there is a change of scene. It's almost like we follow Gilstrap's eyes up into the sky. We see a small biplane (Glenn, please feel free to illuminate us on what that plane is if you feel so inclined - some gorgeous airplanes in the movie!). The plane hovers over the landscape, it is a beautiful shot. Then we are in the cockpit and we see:

She is happy, serene, flying along.

Then a cut to the ground, a small dusty runway. A man (Howard Hesseman of course) is sweeping off the runway. It becomes clear that she wants to land, and he has planted himself smack-dab in the middle of the runway, just to bust her balls. She, up in the air, sees him there, blocking her arrival, and she says, as if this is well-trod ground in their relationship, "Damn!" Then she gets mad. And look out when she gets mad. (Keith, Dan and I were howling watching this ... imagining that it was really Bette Davis in the cockpit). Then comes our North by Northwest reference. The Howard Hesseman character stands on the runway, sweeping, and whistling, as though he hasn't a care in the world, and she zooms up behind him.

He doesn't budge and she is forced to swoop back up into the air - and she does a loop-de-loop, just to show him she's still boss. Again, imagining Bette Davis doing a loop-de-loop was glorious. He stands there, squinting up into the sky, laughing.

It's a messed-up relationship, obviously.

Then she finally lands the plane, and he is still sweeping and whistling, as though he has no idea what just happened and she stalks up to him - little Bette Davis - in khakis, sneakers, a cap and a cotton shirt - and reads him the riot act. He is blase about it, unconcerned. He says, "You loved it, Billie!" This is part of setting up the scene for Gilstrap. Meaning that Billie has retreated from the world of risk ... and that moment on the runway with Coop (Hesseman), where she took off and did a spontaneous loop-de-loop made her come alive again. But Billie isn't so easy. She's still enraged.

Her line to him is: "If you do it again .... I'll get ya." With a jabbing finger in his chest and then stalking off.

Nice line, Potsie. Lemme guess, first draft?

But it's a scene that sets up their relationship. They're friends, sparring partners.

And that's the last we'll see of Bette Davis for a good HOUR.

Now we go back to the Ward household (the new one) - and the family is moving in. Boxes are everywhere. Marion Ross is still freaking out. She's kind of a high-maintenance worry-wart. She is unpacking boxes in the kitchen as Gilstrap sits there, not helping. We can hear the swoops of airplanes roaring over the house. Marion Ross is freaking about that too. "That's ANOTHER thing that the realtor FORGOT to tell us!" Gilstrap finally decides to come out of her stupor and help unpack the dishes. The way it is filmed you already know it will end badly.

Dan murmured, "Oh, no. She's going to drop a plate."

Ya think?

Which, of course, she does. Marion Ross, whose back is turned, hears the crash and freaks out, assuming that it is Lisa who dropped it - she screams, "LISA - THAT WAS MY BEST CHINA ..." then turns and sees that it is Julie who is the culprit. Her entire demeanor changes. She softens ... "Oh ... Julie ... what are you doing, honey?"

Dan and Keith gasped, at the revelation of how this family operates.

Nobody ever holds Julie accountable. Poor little crippled girl. No wonder she wants to leap into an airplane and fly away.

The next morning it is time to get the girls off to their new school. From a brief interaction between Marion Ross and her husband the night before we know that Julie is going to be mainstreamed into a public school for the first time in her life. Marion is concerned about it. How will she do?

The father goes off to work, mumbling about something. Clu Gulagher mumbled all but two of his lines. We didn't understand a word he said. Any time he spoke, Keith or Dan would shout, "WHAT??"

He is the typical distracted workaholic father. Of course he has other issues, which will become clear by the end of the movie ... but it was hard to discern what they might be since his diction was so bad.

The three women walk (and roll) off to school, which is a short way from the house. Marion and Lisa surge ahead of poor Gilstrap ... and at one point during their walk a small plane flies by overhead, and Gilstrap stops in her tracks, staring up at the plane.

She is riveted! Then poor Marion, who appears to suffer from some sort of anxiety disorder, turns, sees that Gilstrap has lagged behind, and calls in a harried manner, "Julie! Keep up! Were going to be late!"

Morosely, Julie drags her eyes away from the sky, and rolls off after her mother and sister.

Next scene is a conference between Marion Ross and the principal of the new school, whose bangs almost threaten to take over the entire picture.

We were at first stunned by her bangs and glasses, but as she began to speak, Keith exclaimed that he knew who she was, and listed a couple of her credits. I can't remember them now, but I love people who can LOCATE obscure character actors like this one. Anyway, the scene really has to do with Marion Ross confiding in the principal that she is nervous about Julie going to public school for the first time. "She's sensitive. We're very concerned." The principal reassures her that everything is going to be fine, Julie will fit in just great. Marion Ross is not convinced, but, as the principal says, "Let's get the girls to class, it's almost the end of first period" ... so off they go. Julie, again, sits there, quietly, eyes down.

"I think she's depressed," said Dan.

Marion Ross leans over to talk to her encouragingly and there is something about her posture and demeanor that makes it clear that she thinks Julie is on the level of a toddler, in terms of development ... her energy is totally different with Lisa, her other daughter, whom she treats with exasperation and firmness. So she leans over to Julie and gives her a gentle pep-talk, as though Julie is about to start nursery school. She tells her hair looks lovely.

"It does!" gushed Dan.

When Julie enters the first classroom - all heads turn to stare at her. There is a long shot of the other students, all at their desks, and everyone is staring at her, some people are whispering. It's kind of awful. Not to mention the fact that the teacher comes over and says, right to the camera, as though the camera is Julie, "Hi, Julie. We're very happy to have you here." and there's something creepy and pedophiliac about his entire approach.

The three of us were like, "EW! Get away from me, creep!"

He leads her to a desk in the front row - talking to her as though she is mentally disabled, as opposed to just physically - and the whole class is whispering and murmuring, and you just feel for Julie. Of course her chair wont fit under the desk, so that's a problem, embarrassing - but the teacher, as much as he is a creepster, tries to make it all okay. "We'll get you a proper desk later ..." Then he tries to get back to his lecture, even though everyone is distracted with staring at poor Julie. Julie is unhappy (what a shock) and sits there, staring out the window. Staring up, of course.

Then there are some shots of Julie wheeling through the school hallways in between classes, and people have to dodge out of the way, and of course some mean kids make jokes. "Do you have a license to drive that thing??" She breezes by, sullen, ignoring the insults, but you know they've hurt her feelings.

Next scene, Julie is sitting at a desk in the school office, doing some filing. It eventually becomes clear that because she can't take gym she has to go to the office during that period and help out. A secretary with a humped back ("Poor lady, she has a hump," whispered Dan) is giving Julie chores.

Are we ready for the entrance of hot Ben Marley? Get ready!

This boy haunted my dreams for weeks after I saw Skyward!

The door opens, and a boy on crutches enters. He obviously can't take gym either. He is handsome, in a slim-jim late 1970s kind of way, lean and hard and skinny.

He reminds me of Keith McAuliffe, the boy I was in love with when I was nine years old. He has that vibe, that kind of easy-going friendly vibe.

A word or two on this character before we move forward: what is good about the script (thank you, Potsie) is that he is not written to be a cock, or an asshole, who learns to be friendly through his interactions with the crippled girl. It's more subtle than that. He's gregarious, first of all, and talks and banters with everyone. There's a scene later in the lunch line in the cafeteria where he's chatting up the ladies behind the counter, and things like that. He's friendly. He talks about himself all the time, like most high school boys do, but it's not off-putting ... and later we realize that he's kind of pumping himself up, because his position is actually NOT all that great on the football team. He's not as good as he says he is, and he knows that. So he has something in common with Julie. It just would have been cliche and dumb if he had been a popular cocky jock, who slowly realizes how cool Julie is. That's not how it happens. He's nice from the get-go. Yes, it's romantic, but then I think of someone like Keith McAuliffe and how he treated the mentally disabled boy who was in our gym class that one day. There wasn't a shred of condescension in Keith's behavior. He was straight-up just being nice, goddammit, because he's a nice person, and he didn't change his personality in different situations - the way a lot of the "popular" kids did. He was the same when surrounded by his friends as he was when he was alone. So that's the kind of person that Ben Marley is playing. It's a nice choice, and is part of why the romance in this movie is very affecting, and absolutely killed me when I was a young unhappy adolescent.

Back to our plot.

You can tell from the way the hump-back secretary treats him that he is kind of a trouble-maker and rather exasperating for the administration of the school. She berates him. "The period is almost over. Where have you been?"

He is lackadaisacal, humorous, grinning over at Julie (the only other one in the room - and she's sitting behind a desk so you can't see her wheelchair - very important detail) - says to hump-back, "I'm slowed down on the crutches, know what I mean?"

Hump-back will not be charmed. She demands to see his doctor's note. He gives it to her, still grinning. She says, "Who signed this?" He says, "Bugs Bunny." throwing a grin over at Julie, who remains morose (what a shock). Hump-back says sternly, "This is not a play period. When you come here, you WORK." Ben looks at her and says, kind of quietly, almost appealing to her higher sense of self, "Gimme a break, all right?"

He sits down, Hump-back walks away, and now he and Julie are left alone. Shivers!

He immediately starts chatting her up. It is a steady-stream of dialogue, none of which she responds to. She barely looks up. Of course it doesn't help that the first words out of his mouth are,

"I feel like a crip with these things ..." gesturing at the crutches.

Keith and Dan GASPED at this line. Dan gasped, "He doesn't see the wheelchair!!!"

You can see her kind of flinch at the word "crip", but he doesn't pick up on it. He keeps babbling. He is incredibly appealing. "Scott's the name, football's my game ..." Despite the fact that she is quiet and shy, he just keeps talking, about how hard it is to sit out when "you know you can help your team, know what I mean?" There are long pauses where maybe he is waiting for her to pick up HER end of the conversation, and he realizes that that won't happen, so he just keeps talking. He is an entertaining individual. Perhaps a bit ADD, a bit self-centered, but he doesn't seem like a "playah", or anything like that. He's just bored out of his mind, and she happens to be sitting there, so he chats her ear off.

Oh, and this was funny: at one point, when the conversation lags, he kind of looks around, restless, not sure what to do with himself, he sees a staple-remover and picks it up, kind of playing with it, and then idly puts it in his mouth, with the teeth facing out, and kind of makes the teeth chop up and down.

Keith burst into laughter and said, "I used to do that!"

Dan was baffled. "Why?"

Keith said, "Because! It's like they're little fangs!"

hahahahahaha

At one point he looks at her (and I just swooned as a 12 year old watching this) and says, "So what are you in here for? Did you sprain your ankle roller-skating or something?"

He doesn't mean anything by it. It's a friendly flirty line. But of course it has all of these other implications because of what he doesn't know. She doesn't respond (what a shock). Then the bell rings. He goes to grab his crutches and she rolls away from the desk, so the wheelchair is fully revealed. You can see him see it as she rolls by towards the door, and he has a moment, nicely played, where he looks away, hating himself for the gaffe he has just committed. She goes to try to open the door, and he hobbles over, quickly, and opens it for her - "Here, let me get that for you ..." She rolls off, not looking back, and he stands there, watching her go, and you can tell he is hating himself.

SWOON.

Next scene is a killer. This is one of the scenes I remembered in exquisite detail from my first viewing and was one of the scenes I described to Keith and Dan when I acted the whole movie out. The second the scene started, Dan said, "Oh! I remember this scene!" hahahaha From my re-telling of it! Julie, already kind of upset from her interaction with Scott, goes into the ladies room. There are two girls there at the mirror (one of them is smoking) - and they're putting on makeup. Julie enters and you can see the two girls kind of stop, and stare. Horrifying. Julie rolls over to one of the stalls, opens the door, and then there is a shot from above of Julie trying to fit her wheelchair into the stall. No go.

She starts to get upset, jamming her chair against the stall, as she realizes that nope, she won't fit. This place is not set up for her. There's a shot of the two girls at the mirror, kind of starting to laugh as they watch Julie struggle. Bitches.

Finally Julie gives up, slams her fist on the side of the stall, and wheels off, in a rage. She goes to the nurses office and the nurse, who is very apologetic - saying that they will get the bathroom facilities updated - hands her a bedpan. Julie stares at it, and tears are rolling down her cheeks. It is a mortifying moment.

Poor morose Julie. This school was obviously not ready for her to be mainstreamed. They have a ramp out front and that's good but what, nobody thought that the stalls would need to be widened?

Next shot is Julie rolling down the crowded hallway, in tears.

After school, Julie sits outside watching two workmen put a ladder up against the school. As her eyes go up to the top of the building - suddenly - whoosh - two gliders fly by overhead in the sky. Julie, electrified, watches them fly off ... and suddenly she is no longer the sad little girl in a wheelchair, but a woman with a mission. Following the planes with her eyes, she starts to roll down the street. It is rather alarming because you want her to stay on the sidewalk, but this is a small town, not much traffic. She is determined to find that airport.

She rolls along, eyes turned upwards, and eventually she is on the outskirts of town ... there are fields and open spaces ... and there is a really cool shot of the two gliders descending down to what is the runway (only the runway can't be seen from Julie's perspective - it looks like the gliders are going right into the grass).

Julie knows she's really close, so she sets out to find the airport, bumping along a nearly-unpaved road. Finally, we get THE shot of the entire movie.

Only unauthorized vehicles my ASS. Julie stops, stares at the sign, and then just keeps on rolling by. Good for you, Gilstrap! At the airport, there is no one around. Planes sit still and unmonitored. She is by herself. In a long quiet scene, she rolls around, through the airplanes, sometimes reaching out to touch the wings, sometimes peeking into the cockpits of the planes much lower to the ground. She is in awe.

Eventually, she hears music playing, off in one of the rickety hangars, so she goes off to investigate. And sitting there, covered in grease, working on the wheel of a big broken plane, with only half a wing on one side, is Howard Hesseman, in the role of a lifetime. He is a grease-monkey, his shirt is totally open (we were all kind of grossed out by that - "button your shirt, Howard!" we begged) ... and he's smoking. She sits nearby, staring at him, watching him work, until he finally becomes aware of her. He glances up, takes in what he sees. Nobody speaks. The silence goes on FOREVER - with shots of her, then shots of him, then shots back at her ... it's a bit much. Keith said, in mock surprise, "Silence? In a Ron Howard movie?"

I made the comparison that all of these scenes between Howard Hesseman and Suzy Gilstrap are like the half-hour long opening sequence of The Black Stallion, with the boy trying to get the wild stallion to trust him. That's what's going on here. It doesn't really work - there are too many of the scenes, first of all - we'd cut back to Hesseman and Gilstrap, and Dan would groan, "These two again??" Also, we kept waiting for Bette Davis. Too much Hesseman, not enough Davis. In my opinion, you could have cut the Hesseman character altogether - and made it DAVIS the one who had to break through Gilstrap's shyness ... make Davis the one working on the plane, etc. etc. You didn't need the go-between.

But obviously the choice was made to give Davis a sidekick - maybe cut down on the number of days she had to work - and give the added complexity of "Coop" to the story, who has his own issues and problems. But the scenes between him and Gilstrap go on too long.

I also would have liked more of the romantic scenes. CUT one or two of the Black Stallion-esque scenes, and give us more of Ben Marley!

Sadly, I am not in charge of the universe.

Hesseman doesn't say anything at first, but he takes in how she is looking at him and the plane, how fascinated she seems. Then, pausing every other word practically, really drawing it out, he asks her if she could go over to his tool box and grab him a big set of pliers. She does. She watches him work. He asks her to get him another tool he needs. She complies. No other conversation happens. Eventually, at some strange point, Julie turns her chair around and wheels off, without introducing herself or saying hello. Totally Black Stallion. Hesseman is baffled and calls after her, "The name's COOP!"

Sure it is.

But she is gone. Rolling off into the sunset with nary a word.

The next scene we see her going to the local Y, where Marion Ross had signed her up for an after-school class. We don't know what the class is, but when Julie approaches the door and peeks in, she stops. A teacher is running an art class, and speaking in sign language to one of the students. The majority of people are in wheelchairs. Julie stares at all of them, not entering. There's a condescending vibe to the teacher. "What beautiful colors!" she gushes, at the drawing done by a man who is in his 30s. These people are just in wheelchairs, lady, they're not retarded!! Julie stares around at the scene and then the teacher notices her. Again, with the kindergarten tone-of-voice, the teacher says, "Class? We have a visitor! This is Julie!"

Slowly, Julie backs away. "I don't think I'm in the right place," she says. The teacher, smiling ear to ear, says, "Yes, this is the right place!" Julie shakes her head, says, "No" and rolls away.

REBEL!

So begins the web of lies that Julie spins throughout the movie. Her parents expect that she will be going to "Y class" every day after school. It's close to the house so Julie can just roll home, her parents don't need to pick her up. What she does is she goes out to the airport, hangs out out there, then gets home at about the same time she would have if she had gone to the Y class, and says "Y class was great" to her parents.

I gotta admit, I keep waiting for Ben Marley to reappear. He's so cute and I love his jeans and how he wears his shirt open as though he's some disco god.

The next scene obliged me.

It's the cafeteria at school, lunch-time. Julie, her books in her lap, rolls up to get in line. As she does so, we can see Scott (aka hot Ben Marley) emerge from the crowd off in the back, still on crutches, and he calls out her name, "Julie!" (sigh, pitter pat) He hobbles over to her, and then they go through the line together, again with Julie not saying much and Scott chattering away. "Whatcha reading? Catcher in the Rye? You got Mr. Emerson for English right? Yeah, me too." Blah blah blah, on and on ... it's kind of charming. It's not all puffed up with ego, he's not trying to impress her - or, he is, but how he does it is charming. It's sweet. "You like football?" She says, "Not really." He says, as though that hadn't been her response, "Great game ..." Then he goes on to describe last weekend's game and how bad he felt sitting on the bench. "You don't know what it's like to sit on the bench knowing you can help your team but you're not able to." Then he realizes what he's said and corrects himself, "Uh ... who knows ... maybe you do ..."

Meanwhile, he totally takes over her lunch-ordering process. "Make sure you ask for the food from the back - they put the old stuff in the front ... can we have one of those salads from the back? What kind of dressing you want? Oil and vinegar? Yeah, can we have some oil and vinegar - none for me, thanks ... You don't want to eat the hamburgers, they taste like old footballs ... on Thursdays, they have chocolate pudding - you like chocolate pudding?" It is a nonstop barrage of dialogue, with zero responses from her. And, of course, what Ben Marley is really playing (and, again, why his character works for me) is that he knows he screwed up with this nice girl when he first met her, by saying the word "crip" in her presence, and he feels really bad about it and wants to show her he's not a jerk. It's charming. The charm works on her. As they go through the line you can see her loosening up. She even smiles at him a couple of times.

Gilstrap? Smiling?

By the time they reach the end of the cafeteria line, he has talked her ear off about everything under the sun. But just before they part, you can see him gearing up for what he has wanted to say all along. He says, "Listen, Julie - I'm sorry about the other day. I didn't know."

She looks up at him, sees his sincerity, and smiles. Twice in one day?? Says, "It's okay."

He grins down at her, relieved.

It's a nice moment.

Heartcrack.

Then we're back out at the airport, and Julie is hanging out with Coop, who is still working on that plane. We get some exposition taken care of. Coop went to the same high school Julie went to ("about a hundred years ago"), he's a local boy, he lives out at the airport, and his life's work is trying to put this antique plane back together. His goal in life is to get it FAA approved so that it can fly again. But since it's an antique he has to cobble it together by hand, sometimes making the missing parts himself, and it's a project. "This plane has more honor than most people you'd ever meet." Uh-huh. And what do you want to bet when it's time for Gilstrap to finally solo - that it will be THIS plane she flies? Validating Coop's entire life? I'm not sayin' ... Julie is in love with the plane, too. She helps Coop. She is still silent, most of the time, not revealing anything about herself. He says, "You don't talk much, do you? It'd make it a darn sight easier on the conversation if you did." He asks her if she has ever flown, she says no - not even in a big commercial flight. She asks him about what it's like to fly. He tells her it's like being a bird (Cary Grant in Only Angels Have Wings would roll his eyes at that. When Jean Arthur first sees the plane take off she says, "That is so amazing" and he looks at her with contempt. "Reminds you of a great big beautiful bird, doesn't it," he sneers. She says breathless, "No, it doesn't at all. That's what's so beautiful about it. It is like a flying human being." And that is the first moment where we see him fall in love with her. But that's neither here nor there.) She asks if it's scary to fly. Coop says only in the first few minutes of take off but once you're up there it's the most wonderful thing in the world. Gilstrap is wistful. She doesn't say she wants to learn to fly, but you can feel her working up to it.

Button your vest, Coop!

At some point, Coop says, "You hungry? Billie makes a mean bowl of chili ..." (first mention of chili in the script) "but boy she gives me hell if I get there after the kitchen is closed." They start off for the restaurant together ... and you can feel the impending presence of Bette Davis. And then Coop says, a propos of nothing, "You know, if you wanted to learn to fly, Billie'd be the one to teach you." Suzy Gilstrap stops rolling, as though she has been hit by an arrow. He keeps walking, unaware that she has stopped - and when he realizes it he turns to look at her. We see Gilstrap staring at him, angry. "I can't fly!" she declares. "Why not?" Coop asks. "Because! My legs don't work!" He shrugs. "You don't have to pedal the damn thing to stay up there." Then he turns and walks into the diner, leaving Gilstrap to stew in her own limitations.

And now, finally, Bette Davis.

Inside the little restaurant, there are a bunch of old geezers sitting at the counter, and Bette Davis stands behind the counter. It's the kind of place you want to hang out in. Coop comes in, Davis looks up and barks, "KITCHEN'S CLOSED."

We all burst into laughter watching that.

Coop pleads with her. "It's not that far after five o'clock, Billie!"

She says, "Fifteen minutes! You'll have to starve to death."

All the old geezers start laughing. You get the sense of the lay of the land, who Billie is (a raconteur, frankly) ... and how she runs the joint.

Julie gets distracted by some pictures on the wall of airplanes (you know ... the ones Bette flew when she was a stunt pilot in the 1930s) ... and stops, staring at them. Coop goes behind the counter. Bette Davis has noticed Julie, and she is watching her, wondering who she is, what's going on. "Who's that?' she says to Coop. Coop says, "Your new pupil."

Bette flips out, whipping her head to stare at Coop with her angry bug-eyes. "I don't have time to teach anymore, Coop! You know that!"

She finally goes over to talk to Julie. She asks her if she wants some chili. There is much banter about how strong Billie's chili is, and how you need a tough stomach to take it. I mean, these people are obsessed with chili. Calm down. Julie says sure, she'll have some chili. Bette says, "Two bowls of chili comin' up ..."

Dan was just beside himself watching all of this. It was awesome.

Billie sits down and watches Julie eat. Julie says, in regards to the damn chili, "It's good!" and Bette kind of laughs, and says, throwing a glance at Coop - in such classic Bette fashion and prosody that you'd just have to hear it: "I like her. Where'd you find her?"

We all guffawed.

Then Bette gets down to business. "So you want to learn to fly?"

There's a long pause, reminiscent of the Black Stallion scenes, and Julie finally says, "Yeah."

Bette asks, "Why?"

Gilstrap thinks a bit and then says, "Because I'm tired of looking up all the time."

Jackpot. Davis is struck by those words, and gives a subtle emotional glance at Coop. The answer really got to her.

BRILL!!!

Bette decides to take Gilstrap up for a spin. Seeing Bette Davis yell, "CLEAR" at Coop from the cockpit is one of the most wonderful things I've seen in my life. Actually, it goes like this. Coop has picked Gilstrap up in his arms, and put her into the plane. He straps her in. Bette is already sitting in the pilot's seat, with her headphones on, and it's all rather hysterical. Gilstrap looks up at Coop and says, "I wish you could come with us!" and Bette barks from her spot, "I'm not givin' rides, I'm givin' lessons. CLEAR!"

HOWLING with laughter.

We all had to repeat that line multiple times.

"I'm not givin' rides, I'm givin' lessons. CLEAR!"

And away they go. It is Gilstrap's first time in an airplane, but instead of being agog and Anne-of-Green-Gables-ish - like you would expect - she was still serious and withdrawn. Dan started to get frustrated with her.

"You'd think she'd be excited, but no, she's still morose."

Some awesome flying sequences.

Later that night, still keeping up the pretense that she had been at her Y class all afternoon, Julie is tucked in by her mother. There's a kind of infantile thing going on here. Julie is 15 years old, and Marion Ross treats her like she's a preschooler, tucking her in, etc. Julie is then left alone in her dark room, and slowly ... she sits up ... pulls herself out of bed and into her wheelchair, and goes over to her desk where she turns on the light. Opens the drawer and pulls out all the aviation books given to her by Billie Dupree -which she has since hidden - and basically burns the midnight oil.

Now please look at this shot. I include it because it reminds me of a funny moment during our showing. This is what it is like to watch a film with two people who have really really good eyes ... who are not just looking at the scene, or passively receiving the plot ... but have roving eyes ... that take in EVERYTHING. Watching a movie with Allison is like that, too. She notices set decoration, production design, beautiful shots, details ... I love it. Anyway, here's the shot:

I was basically just watching the scene, watching Gilstrap sneak around behind her mother's back ... but suddenly Dan said, "She's got a duck and five books."

I am laughing out loud as I type this, guffawing actually.

We kept saying that. "Look, she needs to fly. All she's got is a duck and five books."

"Would her mother please give her a break? The girl only has a duck and five books."

"Of course she's morose. She's only got a duck and five books."

Okay, so onward. Skyward.

Thankfully, we next get back to Ben Marley. I am saying his name this many times because I want to see my post climb in the Google searches for Ben Marley. I'm blatant about it.

Julie and Scott (Ben Marley, Ben Marley) are in the office during the gym period, doing filing, and you can tell that they've become friends by this point. He's bitching to her about wanting to get back to playing football. "You don't know how hard it is sitting on that bench ..." he says, then stops himself. "Well. Maybe you do." She has come out of her shell a bit and she says, "It must be really hard." She's a sympathetic listener. Which is what most boys really need. It's sweet. Then the bell rings, and he says to her, "Let's get out of here." They're now "together" ... it's nice. As they leave the office he says, a propos of nothing, "Hey, you like James Bond movies?" He's such a relentless chatterbox that it is not immediately apparent that he is working up to something. She says, "Yeah." They're now out in the crowded hallway, on their way to the next class, surrounded by other students. He says, determinedly not looking at her (I love how he plays the moment), "There's a new one opening Friday night. Wanna go?" Gilstrap, true to form, stops rolling. Just stops. Right there. She says, "With you?" Ah, to be 15. He looks back at her and smiles. "I just asked you, didn't I?"

Now it's her turn to be a chatterbox. For the first time in her damn morose life. She only has a duck and five books, after all. She says, lighting up, "Sure! I'd like that! But I have to check at home first. But I'm sure they'll let me."

He's all relieved, like - phew, she didn't turn me down ... and they walk (or walk and roll) off together. She's glowing.

Next scene is excruciating.

Poor Ben Marley - all dressed up - in pants that are so tight that you could read the date on the dime in his pocket (I stole that line) - and his shirt opened to his navel - sits in the living room at Julie's house, being stared at by Julie's parents. Nobody speaks. It is so awkward. I'm mad at the anti-social behavior of the Ward parents. Make the poor boy feel comfortable. Make small talk. Anything! But no, they sit across from him, staring at him, and not speaking. He sits there, crossing his legs, uncrossing his legs, not knowing where to look, and appearing to be scared to death.

Meanwhile, back in Gilstrap's room, she is trying on different blouses, and freaking out. She asks Lisa Whelchel if she can borrow her new blouse. Lisa Whelchel does a nice job in this movie. She doesn't have much to do but her part is important ... she is the only one in the Ward family who doesn't condescend to Julie. She treats Julie with equality, and instead of being jealous that her younger crippled sister has nabbed a date with the hot football star - she's totally supportive (without being condescending). There's a nice scene where she helps Julie put on mascara and the two of them are giggling together. I liked that the script (Potsie's script) did not make her be the typical mean-girl older sister. It works very well. Yes, she's pretty and popular and has boyfriends, but she also loves her younger sister and wants her to be happy and free. I know I'm talking about Skyward as though it is Anna Karenina, but whatevs, leave me alone, I'm trying to be happy. I liked that the script let the Lisa character be complex. What you might expect would be that she's a bitch, and shallow, and when push comes to shove - tries to steal her younger sister's boyfriend, because he's hot and desirable, and SHE should get the desirable boys. But Skyward doesn't go that way, and I think it's a good choice. You love Lisa Whelchel.

"Oh! The sisters are bonding!" Dan gasped with happiness.

Meanwhile, poor Ben Marley is sweating it out in that awkward living room, waiting for what seems to be ages for Gilstrap to appear. I was pissed. Be nice to this boy ... make him feel at least a little bit welcome, for God's sake! Marion Ross goes and joins Lisa Whelchel and Gilstrap in the bathroom - and suddenly she too is all girlie and supportive - screaming over the roar of the blow dryer, "He seems like such a nice boy!" and both Gilstrap and Whelchel shush her feverishly.

Poor Scott. He is now left alone with Mr. Ward, the mumbling and stern Clu Gulagher, who doesn't say a word to him.

Rude!

Finally Julie arrives, with makeup on and lipgloss, surrounded by her hovering mother and her proud happy sister. Scott stands up when she arrives, and stares at her, all vulnerable and sweet, and basically heartbreaking to the 12-year-old set. He was to DIE FOR. He says quietly, "You look great." She's all shy and glimmering, and you can see Lisa Whelchel beaming with excitement in the background, and you just want to die. Good grief!

Now comes their date. And this is one of those scenes that I remembered almost word for word. Down to the smallest gesture and glance.

Gilstrap and Marley approach the movie theatre (they obviously walked there - there was no car involved). As they get to the door, the ticket holder - a petty tyrant obviously - sees the wheelchair and stops them. "You'll have to leave ... that ... outside ..."

Scott says, "The wheelchair?" Like: it's okay, you can say the word, douche.

Scott gets into an argument with the ticket holder. It seems outrageous that they can't just sit in the back, but no, the wheelchair is a fire hazard apparently - it's an old theatre, it's not built for wheelchairs. Scott starts to get angry. He's basically embarrassed, you can tell, but he's pissed OFF. Gilstrap is mortified. The ticket holder cannot be budged and says, "You'll have to leave the chair outside and carry her into the theater." The line is growing behind them. The situation is very tense. Like I said, I remembered this whole thing word for word. How Scott finally says, in a rage, "Can I see the manager, please?" Then, at his wit's end, he turns to Julie and says, "Okay ... let me carry you in ..."

But she backs away, embarrassed, mortified, and says, "I DON'T WANT TO SEE THE STUPID MOVIE ANYWAY."

Gilstrap!! Look, I know you only have a duck and five books, but is that any way to treat your date? He's doing the best he can!

She starts off without him and he's desperate, running after her, saying, "I don't know who that guy thinks he is - who cares about the movie - let's go get something to eat ..."

But she's too embarrassed, and screams over her shoulder, "LEAVE ME ALONE" and rolls off into the night like an engine of doom and tragedy.

He stops, watches her go, and then in frustration (and this I remembered vividly) kicks a trash can.

It's a hot hot moment, people.

Not to mention the porn-star tightness of his polyester pants and the shirt open to show his hot sculpted chest.

Yum, feathered hair and all. Right, Stevie??

The next day at school, Julie - all glum and angry - slams shut her locker and suddenly Scott comes around the corner - looking for her. "Julie, Julie - I'm so sorry about the theatre - I didn't know they wouldn't let you in ..."

But Gilstrap is now showing some of her personality defects. She assumes that people are embarrassed by her (although Scott obviously is not), and so she projects that onto them. It happens repeatedly throughout the movie. She rolls away from him saying, "I'm sure you and your friend had a lot of laughs about it."

He basically jumps in front of her wheelchair to stop her and says, "Hey. I wouldn't do that."

She doesn't believe him. "I know everyone loves crip jokes - it must have been great for you guys ..."

He's gobsmacked by this attack which really is rather unfair. After all, hadn't they been hanging out every day? Doesn't she know by now that he's not that kind of person?

He says again, "Julie. I wouldn't do that."

"Sure you wouldn't." And off she rolls, refusing to accept his apology.

It was upsetting to watch (I mean, not so much now - but I remember how upset I was back when I was twelve.) It was the unfairness of it that made it so upsetting.

Things begin to go south for Gilstrap after this horrible date. The next scene she is working on the plane with Coop, and she gets frustrated and shouts, "THIS THING IS A PILE OF JUNK AND YOU KNOW IT."

Uhm, Suzy?

Deal with your issues. Thanks.

Then she's in a tutoring session with Davis - and she is sullen and uncommunicative. Davis asks her a question about the east-west quadrant or something and Gilstrap doesn't respond, she also seems indifferent to the correct answer. Davis takes a good long look at Gilstrap and decides to make it into a teaching moment. (I love Bette Davis.) She says something like, "A good pilot has nothing on his mind up in the air but that plane." No response. Davis pushes on. "Is there anything you want to talk about?" Gilstrap shakes her head no. Davis says, "I'm a good listener." Suddenly Gilstrap is in tears and says something about how she wishes she could be like everyone else, but she's just not.

That's all well and good, Gilstrap, but what about Ben Marley? Did he deserve your bullshit??

Davis suddenly realizes that "it's time". You can see it happen on her face. Coop (go away, Coop) comes in and Davis says something to him about getting the glider ready. Coop grumbles, "I just put the damn thing away ..." and Davis says, as though she is in the greatest movie ever made and this is her big moment:

"Take it out again. I've got a student here who is ready to fly."

Violins soaring!

Gilstrap's coming out of her funk!

Then there's some incredible footage of Gilstrap in the glider (one of the ones she saw early on in the movie - a sleek skinny white structure, beautiful). She's not flying it herself, but she's swooping and soaring and it's all very emotional. Or, it's supposed to be, let's say that. Ron Howard cannot let well enough alone and the Skyward theme is EVERYWHERE.

Keith began to sing along to it, in tune and rhythm. These were the words to the song he made up on the spot:

"Su-ZY Gilstrap ...
SkyWARD Christmas !!
Su-ZY Gilstrap ...
SkyWARD Christmas ..."

We had all basically lost our minds.

Something about soaring around in the air like that of course gives Gilstrap some well-needed perspective. She has gotten out of her self-involved state, her focus turning up ... and out.

When they get back on the ground, Bette says the "Squeeze my hand" ("Pull my finger") line and tells her she needs to build up her arm-strength to get ready for some real flying. The next scene shows Gilstrap, out of self-pity mode, in the garage of her house - trying to pull out her old wheelchair. The one she has now is an electric one, but she wants her old one, the manual one, which will help her build up her arms. Her parents (who appear to be waiting just around the corner - like, what, these people have no lives?) come in and are all worried and bossy, like - what is she doing? No, no, we spent a lot of money on your new wheelchair - you don't need the old one ... Gilstrap is determined, fighting for what she wants now. "I want my old one!" You can see how they still think of her as a helpless baby. Why should it be a family decision if she wants to switch wheelchairs? Marion Ross is all concerned and trying to make things all right. Clu Gulagher is uncommunicative (what a shock) and takes the old wheelchair from Gilstrap and puts it back. "You're a big girl now," he says to her, in one of the most infuriating lines in the movie. "You don't need that old thing."

But - gratifyingly - in the next scene, we see Gilstrap out at the airport hanging out with Coop ("Oh God, these two again?" groaned Dan) - and you can see that Gilstrap won the battle and is now in her manual wheelchair. She is also lifting weights.

Things are getting crazy for La Gilstrap!

And again, that's all well and good - but what about Ben Marley? What are you gonna do about HIM?

Frankly, I need more of Ben Marley's tight pants and less of Howard Hesseman's bare chest. My needs are simple and I have no problem expressing them.

As if on cue, the next scene shows Julie rolling down the hall in school - this time using her manual wheelchair which makes things even more awkward for her. She has a hard time getting a door open, and suddenly - someone holds the door open for her. She looks up and it's Scott. But that nice openness is now gone from his face. He's not even looking at her, he's staring off, avoiding her gaze. Like: Fine, fuck you, Julie, you won't accept my apology ... but whatever, I'll open the door for you. But I ain't bending over backwards for you anymore. You treated me like shit. She's kind of struck by the look on his face and she says, "Thanks ..." and he nods quickly, still without looking at her, and then turns and walks off without saying a word to her.

It's hot.

Not to mention the carefully unbuttoned shirt.

He walks off down the hall and - as one - Keith, Dan and I were all like, "YUM. Look at his ASS."

We rewound it several times to watch it, each time exclaiming on the general hotness of his boy-body.

Because, really, that's what it's all about right there. Skyward shmyward, can we please see his butt some more?

Julie watches him go, and you can see that she feels ... bad (finally) ... and that she needs to somehow make it right ...

TO BE CONTINUED ...

Part DEUX

Suzy Gilstrap and Skyward Update

I am going over to Keith and Dan's on Saturday for a ceremonial screening of Skyward and A Skyward Christmas. Very exciting.

As per Glenn's suggestion, I checked both of them out briefly - to make sure all was a-okay ... It has taken an act of superhuman strength to not immediately watch Skyward. I basically fast-forwarded through Skyward, to check it was all there ... God forbid I show up at the screening and half the movie was missing or something! The brief flash-forward scenes I saw thrilled me to no end, and I remembered scenes BEFORE they came, even though it has been almost 30 years since I saw the damn thing. "Oh, next we'll see the pep rally, and Gilstrap's boyfriend will be storming by ..." VOILA, there was the pep rally with Gilstrap's boyfriend storming by. And Howard Hesseman appeared gloriously sweaty and crotchety, and Bette Davis, as Billie Dupree, seemed awesome (in a fast-forward kind of way), with her mechanics overalls and her red lipstick, hangin' out with the boys. Just like I remembered!

I realized that my memory had played a trick on me. I had told Keith and Dan that Suzy Gilstrap's boyfriend in the movie had "cro-magnon features". That was how I remembered it. But as I fast-forwarded I realized I had been wrong. Her boyfriend was not cro-magnon at all. He was more of a lean skinny Dukes of Hazzard type. It took me a second to realize why I had superimposed cro-magnon features onto a man who had none. It was because of Babycakes, a television movie starring Ricki Lake, about a fat girl who falls in love with a hunk and I can't remember the details, but he falls in love back, and there is all kinds of social pressure issues (along the lines of Shallow Hal - with his friends thinking he could "do better", and her parents thinking she is reaching too high ... and it's all about the limitations placed on us, and that we place on ourselves, because of our appearance.) Very similar to Skyward, where a shy almost non-verbal paraplegic somehow nabs the football star of her school. I remember Babycakes as being a very sweet movie, and the hunk was played by Craig Sheffer who does, indeed, have vaguely cro-magnon features.

But I was haunted by my error, and felt I had mis-led Keith and Dan, so I had to send an email. Here follows our exchange:

Me to Keith and Dan:

I am holding myself back from watching Skyward - although I did fast-forward through both to make sure they were complete.

Turns out I was wrong about the cro-magnon features of the boyfriend. He has more of a 1970s long-haired slim-jawed handsomeness.

But all of that will become clear this Saturday.

I received this email as a response from Dan:

Whatever the bf's appearance, anyone who gives La Gilstrap some love is just fine, in my book--

Best-
Billie Dupree, barnstorming pilot

I just got an email from "Billie Dupree" in which the words "La Gilstrap" were used.

This makes me so happy.