Caroline's Casting Couch: The Big Chill Is Back

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First, news broke that Joshua Jackson may or may not be stepping into Chevy Chase's Top-Siders for the long-in-development prequel Fletch Won. I support that, even if I don't understand why they have to revive Irwin Fletcher after all this time. Can't they just come up with a—gasp—new character? Still, I bet the movie will be fun, if it actually happens.

And then came the most mind-bending news ever. Screen Gems is remaking The Big Chill, one of my all-time favorite movies. I immediately put my guard up. This movie shouldn't be touched; it can't be touched. It's a sentimental character study. Grrr.

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But wait. There's a twist! Instead of Caucasian yuppies in crisis, there's an African-American cast. Screen Gems will use Lawrence Kasdan and Barbara Benedek's script as a template. Regina King is set to star, with her sister Reina King producing. Regina King is one of the greatest, most potent actresses around. She can do "strong woman" without losing her femininity like nobody else. (To this day, I swear, she is the one who should have won an Oscar for Jerry Maguire.)

But anyway. I know Hollywood likes to mine the '80s. And the '70s, and—etc. But I don't feel good about this particular project. And here's why:

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The Big Chill  Has an Actual Theme:  In case it has been a while since you saw it, or if, by some horrific chance, you've never seen it (tsk-tsk!), I'll refresh your memory. Chill is about a group of friends from college who reunite when they learn one of their best friends, Alex, committed suicide. This is a thinking-person's plot. Your buddy offs himself, you start to take inventory of your own life. The central question is posed by the minister in one of the first scenes: "Where did Alex's hope go?" Every scene in this movie is about hope—getting it back, wondering if it's still there, feeling guilty for wallowing in hopelessness, doing it anyway because you've had so much wine. 

Why It Won't Work Now:  I have little faith in Hollywood's ability to make a movie that is so thematically tight. So help me if there is some overstated scene in which a character breaks down because she can't find her keys and compares her keys to her lost hope. Shiver.

The Big Chill  Is an '80s Movie:  And in the '80s, the world was obviously different. In one of my favorite scenes that is timeless yet so incredibly dated, an impotent, depressed drug dealer (William Hurt) discovers a wacky new device—a home video camera—and interviews himself on camera. A younger girl (Meg Tilly) eavesdrops on him, and we see that she really gets him. It's poignant and incredibly private.

Why It Won't Work Now:  That scene wouldn't work in the age of YouTube. In the '80s, people at large were living smaller lives. If you wrote in a diary or taped yourself doing something, you didn't need the world to see it.

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The Big Chill  Is All About Motown:  My beloved Kevin Kline is so convincing as a guy who firmly believes all the great music was made more than 21 years ago. He even says, at one point, that new music isn't allowed in his house. Kline's character is so relatable because he represents that conflict with nostalgia. It's fun to celebrate the past and get lost in memories, but where do we draw the line? Are people who focus on the past in dangerous denial of the present?

Why It Won't Work Now:  The remake is, of course, set in the present, where thirtysomethings who came of age in the '90s gather. But wait a minute. Do you have any friends who only allow Snoop Dogg's "Gin and Juice" to be played in their presence? I'm really worried about the music in the movie. I can't picture a bunch of friends dancing around to Madonna's "Express Yourself" or Tony! Toni! Toné!'s "Feels Good" having the same emotional impact. You can't invent timelessness for the sake of box office.

The Big Chill  Is Subtle:  As in Tom Berenger plays a famous TV actor yet no groupies swarm the house in search of a one-night stand. As in Mary Kay Place plays a single lawyer who wants to have a baby but she doesn't walk around cradling an invisible infant. They do some drugs, but nobody overdoses and winds up convulsing. There is no close-up shot that lingers for never-ending seconds on a mound of cocaine or a bag of pot.

Why It Won't Work Now:  First of all, movies today are so damn overstated and stylized. They throw in music because they can. They overstate the motivations of character because they test movies too much and seem to think so little of audiences. The Big Chill is like the '80s—soft, puffy and a huggable.

Do we really need to tamper with Kasdan's beautiful time capsule? No. Would I love to see a movie about African-American friends reuniting to mourn the passing of a loved one? Absolutely. Does that movie need to be an update of The Big Chill? Hell no!