Fictional Date: December 1959

Score:

Well, this is the first and indisputably the best of the Baltimore films, the wellspring of quotability and one of the most rewatchable movies ever made. Introducing us to the Baltimore of Levinson’s youth, that wonderful place of camaraderie, comfortable conversation about the merits of Sinatra or Mathis, Cherry Coke, and french fries with gravy, DINER also provides us with an emotional focal point that, while it never plays such a huge role again, crops up in every subsequent film - the diner itself.

Although never stated in so many words, there’s a clear social division in this traditional chrome and neon time capsule of memories: the DINER guys (and the other twenty-somethings of the later movies) hang out on the right side of the diner (as seen from outside), while the tin men, like Bagel and the other home improvement salesmen of TIN MEN, hang out on the left. This is where the most important things are discussed, the deepest philosphies that are shared only between friends, like whether Boogie will nail Carol Heathrow on the second date, or if Modell really wants Eddie’s sandwich. This is also the escape that every one of the ensemble uses to flee from the changes that threaten to carry them from childhood headlong into an uncertain maturity. (One minor note: the diner wasn’t originally in Fells Point as seen in the movie, but had moved there before production on DINER began; later movies preserve the movie location of the diner rather than the historical reality).

While it would take a whole article just to discuss all the things that make DINER such a modern classic, we can try to touch on a few. The musical score is the perfect accompaniment to this love letter to the ’50s, matching the emotional swings of the characters with every scene. Even the conversations themselves, so much a part of what makes this movie memorable, have a musical rhythm all their own. We also see the birth of some character elements and even camera set-ups that will recur in the Baltimore series.

Boogie’s plans to attend law school at the University of Baltimore will be echoed by others in LIBERTY HEIGHTS, while a shot that simply tracks with a car pulling up to the diner will also return in that 1999 film thanks to digital compositing (due to the fact that the diner moved again before the later film was shot!). A few clever mirror shots that allow all the speakers in some diner booth scenes to be seen by the audience will also return in LIBERTY HEIGHTS. Michael Tucker’s Bagel, one of the tin men in the next movie, makes his debut here as a friend looking out for Boog’s best interests, even recruiting him (perhaps only temporarily) into the lucrative home improvement business. A deeper examination of the effects of progress would be central to AVALON, but here we see that color television just isn’t catching on with everybody (see “That Tabakin Touch").

Then there are the minor characters that just make the movie sing, like Methan, a lunatic kid who’s memorized every line in the film SWEET SMELL OF SUCCESS, or the famous Emerson television customer (yup, Tabakin). Jane Chisholm, Boog’s horse-riding blonde date, must embody either a fantasy ideal for Levinson or an actual person, but her image is another one that will be seen again later in the series. When Guttenberg’s Eddie picks a mock fight with his mother over the preparation of a fried baloney sandwich, Tim Daly’s apathetic expression lets us know in a heartbeat that Eddie’s been doing this since he was a kid. From Boog’s seasoned street wisdom to Shrev’s strained marriage woes, everyone is in top form. Of all the leads, however, it’s Paul Reiser (marginalized in the original posters and advertising) who really sets the tone for the entire movie. Reiser also provides some of the most delightful asides, such as his non-sequitur rumination about the unsuitability of the word “nuance,” which appears to mystify scene-mate Mickey Roarke, and his constant inability to ask Eddie for a ride without hedging.

The one thing that drags this movie down from a solid four-needle rating are the leaden scenes between Daly’s Billy and Barbara, the girl he loves who doesn’t want to marry him. Their subplot feels like the romantic thread that producers always used to think was necessary to “flesh out” a Marx Brothers movie; it’s unnecessary and maudlin. Besides, there’s plenty of emotional angst already, with Mickey Roarke’s conflicted Boogie and the ongoing trouble between Shrevie and Beth that resolves itself in the final sequence. But hey, even if there are parts of the movie that don’t work, “we always got the diner.”

Here are a few recurring elements seen in all Levinson Baltimore movies that make their debut here:

Cars: Levinson is clearly a gearhead, and although they don’t play a huge role here, the guys know their cars and respect them. Fenwick’s is particularly sporty and driving all night (and morning) long is clearly a beloved past-time, giving rise to the famous “might as well call it a night” line. I can vouch for the fact that a leisurely drive in the Maryland or Pennsylvania countryside is a slice of heaven: right, Andy?

Music: Levinson loves Sinatra, and the constant commentary about the make-out potential of Sinatra and Mathis brings this up for the first time in the series. Shrevie is obsessed with music to be sure (the lesson in record organization is a classic scene for all collectors), and clearly has an appreciation for R&B, James Brown and other genres that whitebread America may not have paid much attention to just yet. Also, as we will see later, Levinson must have spent a bit of time in the seedier side of Baltimore and grown to love the old burlesque houses. The bluesy strains of the sax accompany our first look at a Baltimore stripper in a scene with Eddie and Billy late in the film. Lousy lounge-style singers usually crop up too, and the guy who croons “Blue Moon” in the final wedding scene is definitely begging to be hooked off the stage.

Baltimore Geography: We visit a number of locations in the Fells Point area, distinguished by those brick-paved streets that still exist today. The Washington Monument (ours, not the one in DC) turns up during a scene near Boogie’s beauty salon; that picturesque area will be seen in the other movies as well. The guys also go to the Strand to see A SUMMER PLACE and observe Boog’s date with Carol Heathrow.

That Tabakin Touch: Levinson fans can spot him in every movie the director makes. With a face like burlap, bushy eyebrows masking eyes like slits, and a dry delivery that is the very definition of “deadpan,” Ralph Tabakin is the quintessential character actor and a Levinson institution. In arguably his most famous appearance, he tests Shrevie’s patience at the appliance store by requesting an “Emerson 21 inch cabinet style” television while complaining about the deleterious effect of color on the realism of BONANZA. “The Ponderosa looked fake,” Tabakin drones while Daniel Stern appears to hold back a giggle. “Hardly recognized Little Joe.” But we recognize you Ralph, and we’ll see you again in the next three Baltimore films…

Next: We take a look at TIN MEN.

ATB