The Oh M'Gosh Rain

The Oh M'Gosh Rain

If Hollywood were filming it, we'd probably see during the credits drops of rain bubbling little pools on the lawns, sidewalks, drive ways. As the names roll by, the rain increases: water runs like streams down roads, through gates and culverts. Near the Cinematographer, parents at the Little League baseball field are seen caught huddling together on bleachers while their game-anxious sons laugh in the dug-outs. The rain's still coming down as we see the names of the stars. By the time the Producer and Director show, the reunion picnic is canceled and grandparents waddle to their cars. We get a glimpse of the film's title as the 4th of July parade and fireworks are canceled. The feature begins with everything wet and canceled.

Then a shot of sunny California. Directors love such contrasts: water, water, everywhere, and then, boom! A clear day. And in the sun a regular army of happy people gather at a private airport in San Diego. They board a chartered plane. There's a veritable throng of them, all well-dressed, well to-do, and well primed for a celebration to end all celebrations in the heartland of America.

Cut, and we see a similar group gathering in Maine. This army, also well-attired and full of party, has one eye on the sky. They're cautious because their weather is more unpredictable than sunny California's. The wise Director foreshadows the Iowa events-to-come: will it rain on the Big Occasion? An effervescent aunt says certainlynot, but that only adds foreboding. The slow members of the audience might not catch this since the focus is on the excitement of the gathering, but an alert viewer could write the dialogue himself. The aunt who wonders if Charlotte will take care of Poopsie while she's gone, an uncle who wonders if there are any fish in Iowa, a cousin who can't wait to get back to the golf course. The scene, like the corresponding one in San Diego, is happy pandemonium. Except in Maine they wonder about the weather.

Since the Director has shown the two places where the parties are leaving, he moves to Iowa where they will arrive for the main action.

We're introduced to the Chief Organizer, obviously a hyper Mother of the Bride, and the stooges she's assembled to pull off this super-extravaganza meeting of West Coast money with East Coast society. Certainly someone has the line, "Tell me again, Marge,whyis the wedding to take place inIowa?"And to let us know why it will be in neither Diego or Portland, Ms Hyper explains as she readies a flower arrangement, "For the Nth time, Tillie, because Sarah and Jeff didn't want to favor or slight either family. So they chose a place between the two states and came up with Iowa. Nowdoline that bouquet up with the others, dear."

So now the audience thinks it knows the major players. We're left to make up our own Father of the bride because he's not as important as this organizing wife, and if we want anyone special from the eastern front we can pick from the throng assembled at the Portland airport. We would probably see a strong Mother of the Groom to add to what we sense will be an impending storm, whether it's rain from Nature or electricity from the characters.

That leaves only the Bride and Groom. Casting has given us a wimpy though gorgeous girl and a strong, decisive man. Immediately our antennae are up because we justknowsparks will fly between strong-armed Mother-in-Law and take-no-guff Groom.

Since this is a feature-length film, there have to be minor subplots and diversions and character actors and cameos strutting their stuff. So a well-groomed poodle chases a fluffy cat with a diamond collar, a boozing uncle lets it all hang out, an up-tight librarian-type catches fire and eyes the chauffeur, some spoiled teenagers hit the punch bowl pretty heavy. The Director's not too choosy here because the individuals and busy-work are not what's important: it's the impending storms and how smoothly the wedding can be pulled off.

So the astute spectator knows that there will be at least two conflicts: the weather impinging on the wedding and a showdown between the Groom and his to be Mother-in-law.

To keep these from happening too quickly, the Director includes a cameo of a famous, has-been actor as Weather Man telling us of a twenty per-cent chance of rain.

"Only twenty per-cent?" laughs Ms Hype. "That's nothing!"

Here we focus on the Chief Chauffeur who has a fleet of limo's ready to greet the Easterners at the airport. "ON TIME, Alfred, do you hear!" barks General Hype.

By now the audience knows everything he needs to know: he has the beginning and he's sensed the ending. All the stuff in the middle can come and go, it's just filler anyway, something to kill the time between the introduction of the two storms and their eventual finales.

Everything's set, that is, except the dramatic flaw. And the keen observer would have picked up on that too. It's in the character of Ms Hype, the super-organized Mother-of-the-Bride. We know she's a control freak, the type that is master of everything except the weather. Now here's where the clever Director misleads the unwary movie goer. It's why he's a rich Director and we're the paying audience. Because the fly in the ointment that he has so adroitly kept secret, is that for all the perfect planning and execution of Ms Hype, there is, well, one thing we don't know about her. But this isn't quite the time to let it out of the bag, right?

So the West Coast army lands, the East Coast troops arrive, and the pre-party bash on the runway is exciting, what with planes wanting to land and take off but can't. Perfect Hollywood pandemonium and place for another cameo, this one of a star in the Control Tower, a male replica of Ms Hype but bald, yelling, "WHAT'S GOING ON DOWN THERE?"

He rips at his hairless head and blurts, "Never again will Charters be allowed on Commercial!"

The astute viewer will sense that this spontaneous, runway blast is therealwedding party, because once the storms hit there'll be no time for a reception.

Amidst the airport pandemonium there will, of course, be increasing signs of impending danger. Some old character actress playing the role of a great-great grandmother who is Eeore in disguise with her doomsday-black-cloud-forever-over-hanging carries an umbrella and cackles, "Inevertravel without my unbrellie, dear."

Maybe another shot of the Weather Man pointing to a chart. And if the Director really wants to push foreshadowing, he can put in the mouth of a native Iowan words like, "Bet there won't be no horse shoes at the park today," or, "grounds wet enough to drown soy beans as it is."

As the two armies play out the ad lib, drunken, pre-party, we have to have a bride-groom scene: all Directors worth their salt know we must get the plot moving. So, Ms Wimp, full of love and confidence in her Lancelot, deer-eyes him and weknowthe stalwart lad will be able to take care of ALL POSSIBLE MISHAPS. Even a Gargantuan Mother-in-Law. So now even the brain-dead know that a show-down is imminent.

Maybe the creative Director would show us an instant shot, one of those almost-subliminal kinds, where a flood breaks a dam or maybe a typhoon sinks a ship. But he'll be careful not to overdo it.

So, lights, camera, action.

The two armies drunkenly pile onto the Country Club grounds wondering where they are. All this grass, must be the Iowa State Fair. Maybe a harvested corn field. Whatever they see, we DON'T see any buildings, patios, gazebos, or places for refuge lest a mishap should occur. Ah, that wise Director!

Ms Hype marches around controlling the universe. Everything follows her well-rehearsed plan considering the condition of the party goers. But then comes the clincher: her flaw.Wesense what it is because we saw NO REFUGE anywhere. That's right, for all her master-minding and control-freaking, Ms Mother-in-Law forgot a Plan B. It comes out of the mouth of an innocent child: "What do we do if it rains, Grandma?"

Then the Director shows the Weather Man yelling in his studio, "News Break: Change in the weather: It is now absolutely certain we have a One Hundred Percent chance of rain!" Cut to Grandma Eeore popping her umbrellie open and blue-ribboned piggies squealing for the barn.

Finally, the rain begins. And Ms Hype is seen for the first time with her mouth wide open with nothing coming out. Yes, she's caught in the middle of the fairway with her Victoria's Secrets tight around her ankles. All she can mutter is a feeble, "Oh, m'gosh, it's raining."

We now get a long shot of the double-thick throng on the no-escape fairway. They look like routed warriors waiting to be told what to do next. Obviously they need a General: atrueleader.

But the once-General Hype is impotent: she stands mute.

The rain increases as it did during the credits until it splashes and runs: quickly it becomes a good, old-fashioned, Midwest downpour. Our Director shows a quick shot of our now-famous piggies slipping in the mud to emphasize the predicament.

More and more rain.

Greater befuddlement.

So naturally in rides Sir Lancelot. All eyes watch the Groom sizing things up, then issuing orders.

All eyes move to Ms Hype who hasn't been officially dethroned yet.

Eyes move back to Lancelot, now on his white horse, a golf cart.

The audience becomes cats watching a ping pong game.

Majestically the Groom orders, "Begin the service!"

The pastor, once a subservient of Ms Hype, dizzy from jerking his head back and forth, abandons her ranks and acquiesces.

As the service continues, we see Ms Hype dwindling, Lancelot's chest expanding, deer-eyed Bride beaming, and Eeore Granny smiling since she's the only one who came prepared with her ever-present umbrellie.

In keeping with Hollywood, a good pan would show the battlefield, the fairway, with its drowned troops.

A quick shot of the Weather Man pontificating, "I told you so!"

And if there are any last credits that need airing, they will be back-dropped by the victorious rain.

The audience leaves smiling because it knows that justice has been served: Control Freak got hers and from the only place it could come from, On High. And Knight in Shining Armor proves worthy to take the gorgeous Bride as his prize for defeating the enemy.

A quick shot of Poopsie in Maine barking in her satin-blanketed and very dry bed rounds it all out.