A tongue-in-cheek online campaign to get a statue of RoboCop erected in Detroit has turned into a citywide debate. But if the title character from the 1987 dystopian movie is honored, maybe other characters should be immortalized too. TIME takes a look at other towns that could use a new pop-culture statue
Chicago (Ferris Bueller's Day Off)
Chicago's the town where Ferris Bueller spends his spectacular day off, taking advantage of everything the Windy City has to offer. He doesn't pretend to be sick and cut school just to stay home: he visits Sears Tower, the Art Institute and Wrigley Field. In Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Chicago is a place where people dance in the streets and where you can catch a foul ball at a Cubs game. Why shouldn't the city show a little love in return by building a statue to the film's protagonist? Granted, teachers and parents might not feel comfortable with a monument to a character who glorifies playing hooky, but, hey, Ferris imparts some important lessons about getting the most out of life. And Chicago.
Astoria (The Goonies)
Following its release in 1985, The Goonies did great things for the frequency of movie quotes in conversation and for Astoria, Ore. Shot (and set) in the small Pacific Northwest town, the film's band of misfit teens sets out on a quest to find treasure and save their homes from foreclosure. Because of The Goonies' success, trips to Astoria have become movie-geek pilgrimages, with tourists flocking to notable locations used in the film, maybe none more recognizable than the home of Mikey and Brandon Walsh. For the film's 25th anniversary, the town even held a weeklong celebration. Fans from across the country went to visit the hallowed Goonie ground and meet with some of the film's stars. And though no official monument exists, we're not worried just yet. Remember, Goonies never say die.
Minneapolis (Purple Rain)
Purple Rain is a great album. An album for all time. Purple Rain is also a bad movie. A movie that's only unforgettable because of how overwrought it is. Yet it's also an iconic Minneapolis film, set almost entirely in the Twin City. Anyone who makes it to Minneapolis after seeing Purple Rain is immediately compelled to seek out First Avenue, the nightclub where the film's many music performances take place. We'd love to see a statue of Prince right outside First Avenue. Prince on his purple motorcycle with his purple suit. And maybe some purple drops on his cheeks. The sad part is that such a statue would probably result in a lawsuit from Prince, requesting it torn down because of copyright infringement.
Jasper (Road House)
Patrick Swayze's 1989 film, in which he plays James Dalton, a bouncer and former philosophy major (seriously) recruited to clean up a seedy small-town bar, put the city of Jasper, Mo., on the radar. Well, sort of. The film is set in the town but was actually made in California (note the Golden State's hills still visible in the movie). And most people still wouldn't be able to pick out Jasper — in Missouri's southwestern corner — on a map. But Road House became somewhat of a cult classic when it was released on VHS, thus making Jasper (pop. 1,077) the most famous small town in southwestern Missouri and Dalton a worthy character to honor with a statue. At the very least it'd be a pretty cheap tourist attraction. And what would be inscribed on the statue's base? "Pain don't hurt," obviously.
Reseda (The Karate Kid)
We all know what it's like to be the new kid. Maybe that's why it's so easy to relate to Daniel LaRusso, the scruffy teen at the heart of 1984's The Karate Kid. Daniel is a New Jersey transplant who moves with his mother to Reseda, Calif., where he's roughed up by the school's bullies. But Reseda is also the setting for his eventual comeback. After mastering karate with Mr. Miyagi, Daniel-san beats his high school foe in a tournament with a well-timed crane kick. That endearing story of underdog victory has made The Karate Kid one of the '80s' most beloved films. California isn't exactly an underdog — it's the nation's third largest state by area. But as the Golden State faces a staggering $25 billion deficit — and the whole country struggles to overcome its economic slump — now seems a fitting time to erect a tribute to the quintessential comeback teen.
New York City (Ghostbusters)
Why do the Ghostbusters merit statues in New York City, a place that has seen its share of great people pass through? Well, let's see. They saved the city from complete takeover by ghouls. Oh, not enough for you? How about Peter, Ray, Egon and Winston rescuing the city (again) from evil ooze lurking in the sewers by animating Lady Liberty herself. Where do we put it, you say? How about outside the Ghostbusters' firehouse, a longtime tourist destination for Ghostbusters diehards that's located in Manhattan's chic Tribeca neighborhood? It's the least we can do.
Elmore City (Footloose)
Hit pop songs and Kevin Bacon jokes aside, 1984's Footloose gave the little town of Elmore City, Okla., a big reputation. In 1980, Elmore high school junior Leonard Coffee led an effort to convince local church and school-board officials to allow the school to hold a prom, technically an illegal gathering according to a local law from 1898 that outlawed public dancing. Coffee's then girlfriend Mary Ann Temple-Lee was the daughter of the school-board president, who vehemently rejected students' requests for dances year after year. This time, the students made a persuasive case and Temple-Lee's father cast the tie-breaking vote in favor of Elmore's first-ever prom. Reading this, it might not be difficult to guess the on-screen counterparts of these real-life students: Bacon's character Ren McCormack and Lori Singer's Ariel Moore were inspired by Coffee and Temple-Lee. Just like in the film, the real Elmore students celebrated their victory with a dance. The problem was that no one actually had any idea how to dance.
Fort Lauderdale (Flight of the Navigator)
Flight of the Navigator is a 1986 Disney sci-fi movie about a young boy from Fort Lauderdale, Fla., who falls in a ditch, mysteriously wakes up eight years into the future, and eventually hooks up with a sentient spaceship that flies him from the bottom of the ocean to the top of the atmosphere. For a certain swath of American kids born in the late 1970s and early 1980s, the film's silvery Nerf-football-shaped ship is as iconic a spacecraft as the giant mother ship from Close Encounters of the Third Kind. A statue of Max (as the ship is dubbed) in Fort Lauderdale would make a great side trip for all the carefree young people headed just south to Miami Beach.
Lumberton (Blue Velvet)
It's all there in the film's first scene. A beautiful small town: red roses, white picket fences, smiling volunteer firefighters, a man watering his lawn. And under that lawn, dark, chomping insects. Under everything, darkness. When college boy Jeffrey Beaumont (Kyle MacLachlan) returns to his small town of Lumberton, N.C., he discovers a very disturbing underbelly. He discovers Frank Booth (Dennis Hopper). And while we can't actually imagine this nice southern town erecting a statue of a gas-huffing Hopper, it sure would be a trip.
Los Angeles (Die Hard)
Die Hard, the 1988 action classic, doesn't scream L.A. when you first think of it. A tough-as-nails Bruce Willis goes about wrecking the plans of a nefarious outfit of German terrorists who have taken over a shiny but unremarkable office building (Fox Plaza, standing in for the fictional Nakatomi Plaza) over the Christmas holiday. The action and suspense is all indoors, with the hapless LAPD milling around outside. But perhaps there's a larger truth here about a city, which, as is oft said, isn't really a city as much as an endless stretch of suburbs threaded together by numbing highways. Maybe Los Angeles really is like a faceless structure, filled with a few leather-clad Europeans carrying some incendiary baggage. Besides, Willis' character, officer John McClane, is like a lot of other L.A. residents: from New York City, and on holiday.[]
Source: www.time.com
Chicago (Ferris Bueller's Day Off)
Chicago's the town where Ferris Bueller spends his spectacular day off, taking advantage of everything the Windy City has to offer. He doesn't pretend to be sick and cut school just to stay home: he visits Sears Tower, the Art Institute and Wrigley Field. In Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Chicago is a place where people dance in the streets and where you can catch a foul ball at a Cubs game. Why shouldn't the city show a little love in return by building a statue to the film's protagonist? Granted, teachers and parents might not feel comfortable with a monument to a character who glorifies playing hooky, but, hey, Ferris imparts some important lessons about getting the most out of life. And Chicago.
Astoria (The Goonies)
Following its release in 1985, The Goonies did great things for the frequency of movie quotes in conversation and for Astoria, Ore. Shot (and set) in the small Pacific Northwest town, the film's band of misfit teens sets out on a quest to find treasure and save their homes from foreclosure. Because of The Goonies' success, trips to Astoria have become movie-geek pilgrimages, with tourists flocking to notable locations used in the film, maybe none more recognizable than the home of Mikey and Brandon Walsh. For the film's 25th anniversary, the town even held a weeklong celebration. Fans from across the country went to visit the hallowed Goonie ground and meet with some of the film's stars. And though no official monument exists, we're not worried just yet. Remember, Goonies never say die.
Minneapolis (Purple Rain)
Purple Rain is a great album. An album for all time. Purple Rain is also a bad movie. A movie that's only unforgettable because of how overwrought it is. Yet it's also an iconic Minneapolis film, set almost entirely in the Twin City. Anyone who makes it to Minneapolis after seeing Purple Rain is immediately compelled to seek out First Avenue, the nightclub where the film's many music performances take place. We'd love to see a statue of Prince right outside First Avenue. Prince on his purple motorcycle with his purple suit. And maybe some purple drops on his cheeks. The sad part is that such a statue would probably result in a lawsuit from Prince, requesting it torn down because of copyright infringement.
Jasper (Road House)
Patrick Swayze's 1989 film, in which he plays James Dalton, a bouncer and former philosophy major (seriously) recruited to clean up a seedy small-town bar, put the city of Jasper, Mo., on the radar. Well, sort of. The film is set in the town but was actually made in California (note the Golden State's hills still visible in the movie). And most people still wouldn't be able to pick out Jasper — in Missouri's southwestern corner — on a map. But Road House became somewhat of a cult classic when it was released on VHS, thus making Jasper (pop. 1,077) the most famous small town in southwestern Missouri and Dalton a worthy character to honor with a statue. At the very least it'd be a pretty cheap tourist attraction. And what would be inscribed on the statue's base? "Pain don't hurt," obviously.
Reseda (The Karate Kid)
We all know what it's like to be the new kid. Maybe that's why it's so easy to relate to Daniel LaRusso, the scruffy teen at the heart of 1984's The Karate Kid. Daniel is a New Jersey transplant who moves with his mother to Reseda, Calif., where he's roughed up by the school's bullies. But Reseda is also the setting for his eventual comeback. After mastering karate with Mr. Miyagi, Daniel-san beats his high school foe in a tournament with a well-timed crane kick. That endearing story of underdog victory has made The Karate Kid one of the '80s' most beloved films. California isn't exactly an underdog — it's the nation's third largest state by area. But as the Golden State faces a staggering $25 billion deficit — and the whole country struggles to overcome its economic slump — now seems a fitting time to erect a tribute to the quintessential comeback teen.
New York City (Ghostbusters)
Why do the Ghostbusters merit statues in New York City, a place that has seen its share of great people pass through? Well, let's see. They saved the city from complete takeover by ghouls. Oh, not enough for you? How about Peter, Ray, Egon and Winston rescuing the city (again) from evil ooze lurking in the sewers by animating Lady Liberty herself. Where do we put it, you say? How about outside the Ghostbusters' firehouse, a longtime tourist destination for Ghostbusters diehards that's located in Manhattan's chic Tribeca neighborhood? It's the least we can do.
Elmore City (Footloose)
Hit pop songs and Kevin Bacon jokes aside, 1984's Footloose gave the little town of Elmore City, Okla., a big reputation. In 1980, Elmore high school junior Leonard Coffee led an effort to convince local church and school-board officials to allow the school to hold a prom, technically an illegal gathering according to a local law from 1898 that outlawed public dancing. Coffee's then girlfriend Mary Ann Temple-Lee was the daughter of the school-board president, who vehemently rejected students' requests for dances year after year. This time, the students made a persuasive case and Temple-Lee's father cast the tie-breaking vote in favor of Elmore's first-ever prom. Reading this, it might not be difficult to guess the on-screen counterparts of these real-life students: Bacon's character Ren McCormack and Lori Singer's Ariel Moore were inspired by Coffee and Temple-Lee. Just like in the film, the real Elmore students celebrated their victory with a dance. The problem was that no one actually had any idea how to dance.
Fort Lauderdale (Flight of the Navigator)
Flight of the Navigator is a 1986 Disney sci-fi movie about a young boy from Fort Lauderdale, Fla., who falls in a ditch, mysteriously wakes up eight years into the future, and eventually hooks up with a sentient spaceship that flies him from the bottom of the ocean to the top of the atmosphere. For a certain swath of American kids born in the late 1970s and early 1980s, the film's silvery Nerf-football-shaped ship is as iconic a spacecraft as the giant mother ship from Close Encounters of the Third Kind. A statue of Max (as the ship is dubbed) in Fort Lauderdale would make a great side trip for all the carefree young people headed just south to Miami Beach.
Lumberton (Blue Velvet)
It's all there in the film's first scene. A beautiful small town: red roses, white picket fences, smiling volunteer firefighters, a man watering his lawn. And under that lawn, dark, chomping insects. Under everything, darkness. When college boy Jeffrey Beaumont (Kyle MacLachlan) returns to his small town of Lumberton, N.C., he discovers a very disturbing underbelly. He discovers Frank Booth (Dennis Hopper). And while we can't actually imagine this nice southern town erecting a statue of a gas-huffing Hopper, it sure would be a trip.
Los Angeles (Die Hard)
Die Hard, the 1988 action classic, doesn't scream L.A. when you first think of it. A tough-as-nails Bruce Willis goes about wrecking the plans of a nefarious outfit of German terrorists who have taken over a shiny but unremarkable office building (Fox Plaza, standing in for the fictional Nakatomi Plaza) over the Christmas holiday. The action and suspense is all indoors, with the hapless LAPD milling around outside. But perhaps there's a larger truth here about a city, which, as is oft said, isn't really a city as much as an endless stretch of suburbs threaded together by numbing highways. Maybe Los Angeles really is like a faceless structure, filled with a few leather-clad Europeans carrying some incendiary baggage. Besides, Willis' character, officer John McClane, is like a lot of other L.A. residents: from New York City, and on holiday.[]
Source: www.time.com
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