1996, the best year in movie history, pt. 38: That thing you do!
They should have known it was a bad idea to call their band the One-ders.
Their fans mispronounce this name (it’s supposed to sound like “the Wonders”).
The name evokes the phrase “One-Hit Wonder,” which describes what their band is in danger of becoming. They start out with one song, “That Thing You Do!” It gets so big, so suddenly, that they spend too much time playing it in dancehalls, at state fairs, and on TV, and they neglect to practice other songs.
Meanwhile, the rot is setting in:
The lead singer is too moody.
His girlfriend hangs around the band too much.
The guitarist is an idiot.
The bassist is obsessed with joining the Marines.
The drummer breaks his arm.
The drummer who replaces him – well, he can really play, he’s no idiot, he has genuine star quality, but he’s not truly one of the group. He filled in one night and somehow became the catalyst for the band’s success.
So much for the plot. The movie is basically an excuse to showcase “vintage” look and sound. The year is 1964; the setting is Erie, Pennsylvania – and then, other Midwestern cities (and fairgrounds) – and then, Hollywood.
There are lots of old cars and appliances to look at. Indeed, the replacement drummer is recruited away from a job in his dad’s appliance store. We stare at blenders, TVs, clock radios, etc.
Only the fairgrounds, with their mud and their gigantic bleachers and grandstands, look the same in 1964 as they do today.
The band is full of young men, so the lead singer’s girlfriend – Liv Tyler (who, in real life, is musical; whose father is Steven Tyler; whose adoptive father is Todd Rundgren) – commands a lot of attention, though in this story she contributes nothing to the music.
The replacement drummer’s girlfriend (Charlize Theron) provides deadpan hilarity in early scenes. She sits in her bedroom, rollers in her big hair, exasperation (or is it sheer boredom?) on her face, as the replacement drummer phones in his plans to tour with the band. She quietly leaves him for her dentist and is not heard from again.
We do hear from the original drummer (Giovanni Ribisi) – the one who has broken his arm. He takes the replacement drummer’s old job at the appliance store. Periodically, the movie cuts to scenes of the replacement drummer’s family, into which the original drummer has inserted himself, eating TV dinners with them and perhaps making overtures to the replacement drummer’s sister. All the while, a bulky cast remains on his arm.
It’s odd how casual this is, but then I wonder if this is the point of this breezy movie – if, indeed, the movie is trying to make a point. In this society, everything, everyone, is replaceable. A concert tour is abandoned for another as soon as money dictates it. Outfits are swapped out (the band is always being coaxed into appearing in a different suit color). Girlfriends and boyfriends are upgraded. And band members. There is some initial fuss about this, but soon everyone is going along with it. The people who are being traded “down” don’t complain much, either. The band’s ruthless manager – played by Tom Hanks, who also wrote and directed the movie – explains that this is just how things work.
Just as new TVs and clock radios quickly lose their shine and become obsolete, it’s very common to have to settle for being a one-hit wonder.
That thing you do.
That one thing.
Their fans mispronounce this name (it’s supposed to sound like “the Wonders”).
The name evokes the phrase “One-Hit Wonder,” which describes what their band is in danger of becoming. They start out with one song, “That Thing You Do!” It gets so big, so suddenly, that they spend too much time playing it in dancehalls, at state fairs, and on TV, and they neglect to practice other songs.
Meanwhile, the rot is setting in:
The lead singer is too moody.
His girlfriend hangs around the band too much.
The guitarist is an idiot.
The bassist is obsessed with joining the Marines.
The drummer breaks his arm.
The drummer who replaces him – well, he can really play, he’s no idiot, he has genuine star quality, but he’s not truly one of the group. He filled in one night and somehow became the catalyst for the band’s success.
So much for the plot. The movie is basically an excuse to showcase “vintage” look and sound. The year is 1964; the setting is Erie, Pennsylvania – and then, other Midwestern cities (and fairgrounds) – and then, Hollywood.
There are lots of old cars and appliances to look at. Indeed, the replacement drummer is recruited away from a job in his dad’s appliance store. We stare at blenders, TVs, clock radios, etc.
Only the fairgrounds, with their mud and their gigantic bleachers and grandstands, look the same in 1964 as they do today.
The band is full of young men, so the lead singer’s girlfriend – Liv Tyler (who, in real life, is musical; whose father is Steven Tyler; whose adoptive father is Todd Rundgren) – commands a lot of attention, though in this story she contributes nothing to the music.
The replacement drummer’s girlfriend (Charlize Theron) provides deadpan hilarity in early scenes. She sits in her bedroom, rollers in her big hair, exasperation (or is it sheer boredom?) on her face, as the replacement drummer phones in his plans to tour with the band. She quietly leaves him for her dentist and is not heard from again.
We do hear from the original drummer (Giovanni Ribisi) – the one who has broken his arm. He takes the replacement drummer’s old job at the appliance store. Periodically, the movie cuts to scenes of the replacement drummer’s family, into which the original drummer has inserted himself, eating TV dinners with them and perhaps making overtures to the replacement drummer’s sister. All the while, a bulky cast remains on his arm.
It’s odd how casual this is, but then I wonder if this is the point of this breezy movie – if, indeed, the movie is trying to make a point. In this society, everything, everyone, is replaceable. A concert tour is abandoned for another as soon as money dictates it. Outfits are swapped out (the band is always being coaxed into appearing in a different suit color). Girlfriends and boyfriends are upgraded. And band members. There is some initial fuss about this, but soon everyone is going along with it. The people who are being traded “down” don’t complain much, either. The band’s ruthless manager – played by Tom Hanks, who also wrote and directed the movie – explains that this is just how things work.
Just as new TVs and clock radios quickly lose their shine and become obsolete, it’s very common to have to settle for being a one-hit wonder.
That thing you do.
That one thing.