Galaxy
Quest
Star Trek.
Galaxy Quest.
Do you get
it? Easy targets: they exist in comedy. The problem with an easy target
is that they get shot at so often, and in all and sundry ways that it is
actually quite difficult to find a new angle. Take political satire. Politics
by its very nature is self parodying, half the fun is the various sides
sniping and being disingenuous. There are very few new angles on pointing
out that many politicians are duplicitous, lying sonofabitches. So it goes
with science fiction too. And so it therefore goes triple for Star Trek:
the apotheosis of a certain type of science fiction. The long running space
opera, internally consistent, hideously po-faced and with a huge number
of obsessive, cultish fans. Yes - this my friends is what is known in the
book as an easy target.
So, ironically,
also a difficult target to hit. Because the audience for a big budget,
blockbusting science fiction parody are also the self same audience you
are taking the piss out of. Its alright noting that the sets wobbled, and
that all alien species were humanoid and spoke American English. The fans
know this is absurd. But when you poke fun at the very core to why they
are fans of a particular show - you risk alienating (for want of a better
word) the very audience you were trying to attract. Perhaps this is why
its not really been done before (except perhaps Mel Brook's woeful Spaceballs).
Its a field that the Zucker brothers school of parody has always steered
clear of. Comedies with a science fiction base - Men In Black and so on
- usually take their science fiction part very straight. Others which literally
lampoon bad special effects end up being one joke, one note movies (Mars
Attacks anyone). All of which is a relatively lengthy preamble to discuss
the perfectly ordinary science fiction comedy Galaxy Quest.
The joke
is an old one. Take a bunch of actors. Take people believing the actors
are really the characters they portray and see how the survive being who
they have played. A simple idea, which is dredged up every now and then
(last notable time was Three Amigo's: a thoroughly likeable Steve Martin
comedy marred by an appalling turn by Martin Short and a nondescript one
from Chevy Chase). The slightly more sophisticated idea here is that in
the world of science fiction fandom, this is pretty much how the conventions
work. These actors are typecast as their roles, are seen as their roles
and hence make a living out of being these roles. This is helped by having
some very good actors as our one dimensional cast (the complexity here
is that not only do we need to know the actors playing the roles, but we
also need to work out the roles they are playing). Luckily there are some
stock characters which the film mixes up to good effect. The child genius.
The extraneous, bursting out bimbo - played with some glee here by Sigourney
Weaver. Alan Rickman is a clever melange of Leonard Nimoy's prudity and
Patrick Stewart's Englishness. The only weak note is Tim Allen's captain
character. We know he is supposed to be William Shatner, and in his efforts
to avoid being too Shatner-like he accidentally becomes a wee bit too heroic,
a wee bit too likeable. Nevertheless, as ensemble comedies go - the ensemble
fit together nicely.
Which leads
to the most important thing in a comedy. The gags. Oddly Galaxy Quest is
a film full of missed opportunities. The film is so careful not to over-egg
the parody pudding that it actually skates around a large number of perfectly
acceptable jokes. The film is always likeable, but actually wrings more
humour about its oddly dim-witted and uncoordinated aliens than it does
out of taking the piss out of Star Trek. This is not to say such jokes
do not occur, and the good ones are truly good (the expendably crew member
is particularly good). That said, for every obvious joke there are two
or three more subtle ones - and a number of loosely fitted in character
jokes which suggest some severe editing. These actually help make the film.
The throwaway gags, especially around Tony Shaloub's engineer character
(it is never explained why he is always eating) help perk the film up when
it is in danger of becoming overly reverential.
You see
Galaxy Quest is well aware of the audience conundrum, and therefore does
not really spend too much time lampooning the television show aspect. Instead,
after rushing the culture shock aspects of the film, it falls into quite
a straight action comedy pattern. It becomes almost reverential towards
its milieu - and the way the film is plotted is the wet dream of any Star
Trek fanboy. Whilst there is certainly room for a more cutting and critical
comedy on the obsessions of certain types of people, Galaxy Quest is not
that film. It is however wholly entertaining at what it does.
Galaxy Quest
is wooly, could have been a whole lot funnier and in places seems utterly
pointless. Any sketch show worth its salt has a sci-fi piss take in it
somewhere along the line which has covered nearly every gag in the film.
That said, it is thoroughly entertaining. Nicely acted by a good ensemble
cast it also excels in the areas of its script it need not have bothered
about. It is a good popcorn movie, a good action comedy and as a space
opera it is actually better than fifty percent of the Star Trek movies
themselves. That would be the odd numbered ones of course. (7)
IF THIS
FILM WERE A CAR CRASH: Star Trek movies all crashing into each other and
their evil twins from parallel universes.
The
General's Daughter
Unfortunately
not a sequel to John Boorman's 1998 Irish gangster biopic about Martin
Cahill, starring Brendan Gleason and John Voight. Which is in some ways
a great pity, because The General was my favourite film of 1998 (closely
fought battle with My Name Is Joe) and in a lot of ways I tend to favour
the quietly enjoyable character study - over a big budget pile of guff
such as The General's Daughter. Subtlety was the secret of The General,
wheras The General's Daughter gets by on bombast and melodrama. While The
General made the most of artful characterisation and the chemistry of its
two main characters Gleason and Voight, The General's Daughter has some
poorly sketched line reading from John Travolta and a host of other mid
range C-List stars. It goes almost without saying that The General was
a better film, but that's not to run down The General's Daughter too much.
Not too much, but quite a lot.
I don't
really like John Travolta. I would be the first to admit this is an irrational
dislike, almost wholly centred on unreasonable motives, which nevertheless
I shall list for you here. Firstly, he is a Scientologist - and I mistrust
anyone in a cult (Tom Cruise, whatserface off of Cheers, plus siblings).
I have no real problem with people being religious, as long as they don't
pick any of them silly religions. You may extrapolate to your hearts desire
here. Secondly, I don't really rate him as an acotr because I don't think
he has ever been that good in anything. Good dancer, I'll give you that,
and he wears wide lapelled white jackets well, but actually conveying emotions,
he isn not quite there. And finally, I am sick to the eye teeth of Grease,
have been since ever party I went to at age seven had the soundtrack blaring.
Give me a copy of that record and it'll go out of the window like Greased
Lightning - because its not the one that I want. So no, Johny T does not
do it for me. In The General's Daughter he is wholly adequate, feigning
anger when angry, using a light hearted flippancy when required. But on
my actor Richter scale, it a calm day in Shrewsbury.
The General's
Daughter is a mystery thriller. There is a murder, early doors, and the
question is - whodunnit. Now the whodunnit is currently out of fashion,
there has not been a half decent one since - oh probably Presumed Innocent.
The General's Daughter is just less than half decent, you are able to guess
who did it, the clues are all there - but it does use far too much dodgy
misdirection for it to be said to be fair. It also plays too hard and fast
with your sympathies so that in the end, the more inconcievable plot twists
the less you care. John Travolta nd Madeline Stowe play two army investigators,
trying to solve a crime before the FBI get there and the publicity ruins
the General (whose daughter am be dead). So the conflict is between truth,
justice and the Army way. A conflict which then reaveals all sort sof nasty
things.
Sam West
directed this particular piece of fluff, in much the same overblown way
he helmed Con Air. He has an arresting use of lighting, and is heavy on
his - admittedly idiosyncratic - soundtrack but there is no real depth
to this story. Part of the fault yet again is the source material - a novel,
and one quite possibly of the 500 page airport variety. In a book like
that there is time to play off our different protagonists, here we bounce
from suspect to suspect without really caring (with the exception of James
Woods who is underused so badly here he should sue). Too much plot, too
many hackneyed messages unfortunately equals very little characterisation
never mind how good your other actors are. And in general, these actors
are quite good: James Woods, James Cromwell and a rather gleeful turn from
Madeline Stowe. There is an easy rapport and banter between Stowe and Travolta
which left you aching for more of a screwball comedy between them, or me
aching for Madeline Stowe to be in screwball comedy with anyone. The comedy
is a nice light touch, but out of place in a film with multiple angled
viewings of rape.
The General's
Daughter has to be seen for what it is, big budget entertainment. It works
if you switch your forebrain off and run on empty synapse-wise. It is out
of step in the current vogue of cinema, and we probably won't see another
whodunnit for three or four years, so its worth relishing for that. However
this is meant as just entertainment, and the time passes adequately enough
with its pacey direction and its interesting enough storyline. There are
moments when we glimpse a better film in here, the banter between Stowe
and Travolta, the assured mind games of Woods - but in the end this is
just a good old fashioned potboiler, with all the good and bad points of
such films. (4)
IF THIS
FILM WERE A CAR CRASH: A Few Good Men hits Presumed Innocent with some
little bumps and crumps from Hitchcock, The Conversation and countless
forties mystery B-movies.
The
Gift
Oh Sixth
Sense - what hath you wrought. The Gift for one - something which if it
was a gift would be tantamount to a teenager being given a VIC 20 home
computer in 1985. Which is an awful pity, because there is quite a lot
of good talent involved in the movie, and I really like Sam Raimi. Unfortunately
what has been dished up is just an off the boil mixture of The X-Files
and Midsommer Murders. Supernatural thrillers need not be rubbish - but
the mere fact that they are supernatural does not tip you into a world
where you plot need not make any sense. Sixth or otherwise
The plot
is simple. Cate Blanchett plays Annie - a widowed mother of three who has
said gift - a loosely defined mixture of ESP and precognition. After quite
an interminable set-up we get to the point of the movie, sluttish fiancée
of school principal goes missing. As a last ditch effort the family and
sheriff consult Annie - who starts having the kind of dreams you can only
have if you have a half decent special effects budget behind you. Annie
leads them to the body and a suspect instantly becomes apparent. Its Keanu
Reeves wife beating redneck who had been built up in our interminable set-up
as a thoroughly nasty piece of work. So we know it wasn’t him. Unfortunately
we are three quarters of the way through the film before any of the characters
- gifted or otherwise - realise this.
The problem
with murder mysteries - as I have said before - is that it requires one
of your characters to act out of character to commit the murder. If your
selection of characters is wide enough to make it a half decent guessing
game, then you haven’t really had enough time to flesh them out. This problem
is exacerbated here with the film spend too much time dwelling on Annie
- our heroine - and Keanu Reeves redneck. This is not all bad - the first
half hour is enlivened no end by what must be Reeves best serious performance.
He is all malice, a proper sneering villain who is genuinely unpredictable
unlike the rest of the film. It is therefore quite a pity that from the
moment of his arrest we see no more of him. There is a much better film
in here itching to get out - a modern day witch-hunt between him and Annie
would have been a lot more interesting. The murder is just staid in comparison.
It would
have been thoroughly possible to make The Gift without a supernatural aspect.
The nature of Annie’s visions are so inconclusive that it takes a final
attempted murder and happily pat confession from the real guilty party
to wrap everything up. Of course this completely misses the side-show of
Giovani Ribsi’s town simpleton - a role which exists in every film written
by Billy Bob Thornton. A side-plot which is interesting, but which goes
even further to slow the movie down, and appears to exist merely to give
us a pointless twist ending. Ribsi is good, unlike some of the additional
supporting cast. Greg Kinnear and Katie Holmes are possibly the most mis-matched
couple in cinema history - and they both seem hideously out of place here.
Hillary Swank is in comparison rather good as Keanu Reeves abused wife
- but hey - she’s made a career out of being abused.
The Gift
is the first Sam Raimi film I have been bored by. Whilst I would admit
that Raimi has made a few ropey films in the past (and I did not see For
The Love Of The Game) they have always been interesting. Here he uses a
similar pacing to A Simple Plan, but has an awful lot more contrived plot
to fit in. It looks nice, but always plays like a movie of the week - or
an extended Tales Of The Unexpected. Except that it is a tales of the thoroughly
expected, and waiting two hours to get ones expectations fulfilled is not
really worthwhile. As I said when I left the movie, if Keanu Reeves is
the best thing in a movie you’ve got to worry. (4)
IF THIS
FILM WERE A CAR CRASH: Stir Of Echoes slams into any Agatha Christie movie,
without the gags.What gags? That’s my point.
The
Girl On The Bridge
(La Fille
Sur Le Pont)
I’ve said
it before and I’ll say it again – I am a romantic. Cynical, yes, but waft
a half decent strain of romance in front of me and I will dissolve to goo
with the best of them. Problem is, we really don’t get that many good romances.
The cliché plot, the happy ending seems a touch out of date in our
hot sex and gun shooting world. Perhaps it is, but its nice to see the
odd film maker resorting to the hoariest of old chestnuts on this outing.
Of course
the best way to sneak a full blown romance on to an audience is to pretend
it is something end. Tragic romance it was but Une Liason Pornographique
snuck in a very traditional romance and pretended it was a film about sex.
La Fille Sur Le Pont had a trailer which was all flashy knife throwing
and carnival music. To be fair we get a lot of that in here. Patrice Leconte
has gone the Coen Brothers route, the indie homespun American writer route
(a la Anne Tyler). It’s a romance with weirdo’s.
So what
do we have. We start by being introduced to Adele who in a fantastic opening
sequence tells us exactly her bad luck with men. Her bad luck is that she
keeps accidentally shagging them, a source of consternation for the girl.
So much so that she goes to fling herself off a bridge. She is saved by
Daniel Auteil’s knife thrower, ostensibly looking for someone for his act.
And hell, if she’s suicidal anyway… What follows is a vague meditation
on luck combined with the oldest romantic trick in the book. Young protégé
slowly falls in love with elder, then panics and leaves to discover she
needs him after all. Can’t really be that good then, when it involves a
plot churned out ten times a month by Mills And Boon.
Well, yes,
the story is bobbins. Though it is a nice flavour of bobbins, and a flavour
we haven’t had for quite some time. Instead it’s the way this story is
couched that gives makes the movie so watchable. Leconte (previously impressive
with Ridicule) has gone for a luminous black and white, full of brightness
and clarity. (The brightness is actually a bit of a problem, it is often
difficult to read the subtitles on the white background). He is in love
with his lead characters faces, and they both deliver nicely measured performances
to match. Vanessa Paradis is fabulously beautiful, yet her characters lack
of self confidence manages to run her ragged. In comparison Auteil is no
great shakes, but manages to bring a Bogart like ruggedness, desperation
and cool to the role. Indeed the whole film is not unlike the Bogart and
Bacall relationship, the fact that it is so unlikely causes the only real
tension in the film.
I usually
dislike magic realism, but Leconte demonstrates how to do it perfectly
here. From the moment the pauir cannot lose we see how the unusual becomes
the usual for these characters. They cannot believe and do not believe
their luck, which is why they lose it. Even at the end, when our leads
are in different countries and lost, there is not suggestion that they
will not reconcile. This is a joyous film, both with its lust for life
and with its sly touches of humour. Yes its hackneyed, but in the best
possible way. And yes, its more than a little convenient where the pair
finally meet. However it feels right, it is the magic of the movies and
here it really is magic.
The Girl
on the Bridge is a low key delight. It is a very old fashioned film, harking
back to Hollywood romances of the thirties and forties. In Auteil and Paradis
there is a lead couple to rival any pairing of that day. It is Leconte
however who walks away with most of the plaudits for creating this confection.
It is the most hopelessly romantic film I have seen in some time, and actually
one of the fiunniest. A nice companion piece to High Fidelity – which is
all about maturity in relationships – we have a film which is all about
the magic. A little gem. (8)
IF THIS
FILM WERE A CAR CRASH: Key Largo hits Une Liason Pornographique with a
happy Coen Brothers ending.
Girlfight
What makes
a film good? Its rarely a question which wanders through the mind when
you are actually watching a good film, since the enjoyment of the superior
entertainment is doing a more than good enough job of distracting you.
Watching Girlfight – which is, rest assured, a very good film you cannot
help but notice that its plot is more than a touch formulaic. It is a coming
of age drama, with touches of fish out of water. It is about combating
prejudice and challenging gender roles. It is – fundamentally – a harder
version of Billy Elliot. So why is Girlfight much better than the ballet
dancing flick?
The main
reason Girlfight is head and shoulders above Billy Elliot is in the performance
of Michelle Rodriguez. That and the attention the film pays on her. This
is a film about her, so she is literally in every scene. Billy Elliot widened
its scope to much, it was a film about a boy discovering ballet, but it
was also trying to be an historical document about the miners strike. The
two themes did not really gel, allowing Billy’s father far too much of
the limelight, and heroism in coming to terms with his son as a dancer.
Girlfight leaves all the battle, and therefore all the glory to Diana,
Rodriguez’s character, and therefore the sense of triumph at the end is
much more concentrated.
The film
starts with a defiant stare from Rodriguez, and within a minute she is
seen to be having a fight with her school. Aggression is very much part
of her life, so whilst the plot does tick over almost mechanistically to
get her into boxing, the film stays true to its central premise. Diana
is a complicated character, and the film leaves much of her roots unsaid.
Her father is a drinker, her mother is dead. The reason for the later is
dangled over the audience for much of the film, until we get to an extremely
powerful scene which is always on the cards, but nevertheless shocking.
The film never shies too far away from the grimy, gritty side of boxing
either. It is seen as a form of discipline and in its often used route
out of the gutter. It also shows how unlikely that will be.
There really
isn’t anything remarkable about either the coming of age plot, boxing plot
(which follows a tried and trusted rules of the boxing movie) or even the
love story bundled in. It is unlikely a Mills And Boon would ever be set
in the world of mixed amateur boxing – an area where the film is shaky
on reality – however if it were it would go just like this. Like Save The
Last Dance (a glossy mix of Girlfight and Billy Elliot without the coming
of age) the love story works like clockwork, yet is more than worthwhile
when Rodriguez breaks into a smile. The moment that her stony scowl finally
cracks reminds you exactly how much the film, and the actor has got you
involved in the character. Certainly not many love stories end with a boxing
match between the two protagonists, but it is certainly the only time boxing
has ever been seen as romantic.
Director
Karyn Kusama has created a gritty but touching story which exists in a
part of society Hollywood never gets to. Sure in a film like Save The Last
Dance we can visit the ghetto, but Kusama puts us in there without undermining
or patronising the participants. There isn’t a “happy ever after”, there
is merely a “slightly better than the start”. To add to that some boxing
footage which manages to convey what it is like to be right there more
than makes this one of the best films of the year. Add to this Michele
Rodriguez’s towering performance and you have a fantastic piece of work
(9)
IF THIS
FILM WERE A CAR CRASH: Billy Elliot, Save The Last Dance and – you guessed
it – Raging Bull. And yes, it is that good.
Go
It just
looks better in italics, wouldn't you say.
What to
say about Go? Very good portmanteau film about a disasterous drug deal
told from three perspectives. The first, and only, American "Rave" movie,
which is actually pretty damn convincing on the Rave front. Second effort
from Doug "Swingers" Liman - compares favourably with other second effort
portmanteau movies (er - Pulp Fiction anyone). It is a hugely impressive
effort from its large cast, its direction is assured and there is a surprisingly
resolute conclusion - which seems highly unlikely from the beginning.
Plot? Three
convenience store workers gear up for Christmas. Ronna, strapped for cash,
instigates the drug deal which goes bad. Simon, the British kid, goes off
to Las Vegas. Claire ends up going out with Ronna clubbing, getting mixed
up with her dealer. And Adam and Zack get hooked into the sting operation
to capture this big dealer. Each story is told straight through, from the
intro to its near conclusion (with the exception of Claire's which plays
through the others and uncredited takes over at the end). Its a simple
structure, and like any portmanteau movie, falls down on its weakest story.
Wisely, the stories are rampantly different to each other - and therefore
the battle for weakest becomes a good tie. (Ronna's is a thriller, Simon
goes for action, and Adam and Zack play with farcical black comedy). This
juxtaposition highlights the different views of various characters, and
for the films deceptively short running time we don't just get immersed
in a story, more a scene. This scene being the LA Rave scene.
The cast
is impressive, especially Canadian Sarah Polley doing a very good "young
Uma Thurman who can act". The rest have been rustled up from teen shows,
Party Of Five, Dawsons Creek (and perhaps surprisingly) Desmond Askew from
Grange Hill. All perhaps trying to shed clean cut images, by being in a
film full of sex, drugs and dance music. They all acquit themselves well,
though to be fair, this is good material so it would be hard to louse up.
They do surmount the hardest task in any film about morally suspect people,
they make you understand their predicament. (Ronna is poor, Simon is just
a bit of a head case). The writing and direction also do a pretty good
job at getting a warehouse club atmosphere right - the correct amount of
grot and the right type of people. Infact the writing has a nicely authentic
ring to it, with just enough style to pull it over into the excellent catagory
without it being (a la PF) too stylised.
But back
to the start - as Go does three times, to start its three tales. It does
not play with time as much as Pulp Fiction, but it does intertwine its
stories in a much better way than that effort. It is impossible not to
compare the two films, from plenty of angles. They both have killer soundtracks,
are visually impressive in spurts, and they both have gun toting British
characters. Where Go differs from Pulp Fiction is in the quality of its
story-telling, its basic thesis on life and its heart. This is not just
slick entertainment, though on that level it works just fine. Go does have
a subliminal theme, one which runs counter to Pulp Fiction's gun toting
gore-a-rama. Go is a movie about enjoying yourself, partying and being
young and hedonistic. But its also a film about guns.
Guns pop
up a few times in Go, never in a good light. There is an excrutiating (always
a good word to use in Doug Liman films - remember Swingers ansaphone scene?)
almost re-run of the Pulp Fiction car shooting. But mainly they get waved
about - until they have to be used. Then, people don't die, they just get
hurt. As is said near the end "I didn't mind shooting him when he didn't
want me to shoot him". Its a perfect summation of the gun control problem.
We can all be idiots at times, so don't put lethal weapons in our hands
to be idiots with. And on the tip of being idiots, there is also a nice
generational stab at what may well be wrong with workplaces today: "The
problem with your generation is you don't succeed by getting good at anything,
you're just so lousy that the guy above you can't do his job properly so
has to leave and you get his job."
Go is a
very good movie, in a year that is really starting to get into the swing
of things. It is also very cinematic - as its title suggests its a film
with plenty of movement (Go is the word used most often in the film). Normally
it would rate really highly, except for one wee problem I had with it.
And that was the opening sequence. Something I had planned to do in a film
a couple of years back, a bit of cut and paste to Lionrock's sampladelic
"Fire Up The Shoesaw". So it loses a point for nicking my idea. (9)
IF THIS
FILM WERE A CAR CRASH: Pulp Fiction, Human Traffic, Trainspotting, Fear
And Loathing In Las Vegas in a big wreck with Swingers as well.
Gods
& Monsters
There seems
to be some controversy over this film. On the one hand Sir Ian MacKellen
has been nominated for shed loads of awards, as has Lynn Redgrave, and
the film has been lauded highly. On the other hand, people are saying its
not much cop, appaling gay propaganda. So let me wade into the ring now.
First, on the acting front, there is no way MacKellen and Redgrave should
be nominated, let alone win awards (except, maybe for Redgrave in a best
Comedy Actress way). There is only one person even pushing the acting envelope
in this film, and thats Brendan Fraser. That he has been over looked is
a tragedy, that the film has not been universally applauded is a scandal.
God And Monsters is certainly one of the most enjoyable films I've seen
this year, and one of the most life affirming too.
The story
of the director James Whale (Frankenstein, Showboat, The Invisible Man
and yes, of course, Bride Of Frankenstein) and the odd relationship he
strikes up with his gardener. This can been seen as another lust movie
- a partner to last years Love And Death in Long Island. John Hurt and
Ian MacKellen even share a number of physical similarities. However whilst
in Love And Death in Long Island, Hurt was the naive old man in pursuit
of his obsession, here it is James Whale who is supremely at home, with
the object of his obsession somewhat bemused. The twist here is that Whale
has had a stroke, destroying one of the neurological filters in his brain,
so he is subject to random attacks of nostalgia, his (vivid and rather
interesting) memories literally taking over his life. This eventually leads
to the dramatic conclusion, a moving climax to what is a slight but nevertheless
expertly made film.
Nearly everything
is right in Gods & Monsters. The script is witty, and pitches its characters
perfectly. Whale is not just an old queen itching to get into the pants
of his gardner. He is quite aware of him many filings, and is also shy
and hopeful in his friendship with Fraser. Redgrave does very little as
Whale's maid, she pulls comedy faces and talks in a ridiculous Austrian
accent - but her character is in the finest tradition of comic relief,
she further the plot without us knowing it. Yet it is the Brendan Fraser
character the film hangs on. A character so close to charicature, yet fully
fleshed out by little touches. He appears stupid, slow - but is neither
of these things. He appears bigotted, repressed and yet he is the one who
opens out the film to us. He is our everyman, he is Whale's everymonster,
and yet he is a such a noble creation that in the films final scene we
cannot but feel how the experiences he has had have changed him. Which
is surely the crux of all good fiction, to see our characters develop.
Gods &
Monsters is full of tiny touches, which make the whole. James Whale saying
that he made Frankenstein as a comedy, the reunion with Boris Karloff who
everyone agrees is very dull. More importantly are the touches to Fraser's
character. He is impressed by Whale, and so goes to read up about him in
the Library. I can't remember the last time I saw a public library in an
American film, yet it showed the the Fraser character was human - he did
what I would have done. The art design, where the physical similarity in
sillhouette between Fraser and Whale's Monster is subtly enforced. And
again the humour - this is a very funny film. I would urge anyone to watch
it, it really is that enjoyable. So why has it had such mixed reviews?
Homophobia,
my friends, rears its ugly head. The fact that the lead character is gay,
unrepentantly so. Not only that, but he is played by a gay actor. Well,
that's just not acting. For Ian MacKellan to play an old English queen
is simple, surely he is playing himself (please insert Dame Judi Dench,
and old English Queen gag here). The fact he is trying to seduce a man,
a young man, is distasteful to some. Indeed there were people in the cinema
squirming, much like people squirmed during Swingers - the act of seduction
is hugely embaressing, especially if done badly. That a film celebrating
the life and loves of such an interesting man could be neglected due to
the lead character being gay is contemptible. That such a good film can
come around and people not being badgered constantly to see what is a simple
but elegant portrayal of friendship, and betrayal, is merely sad. (9)
IF THIS
FILM WERE A CAR CRASH: Love And Death On Long Island and Bride Of Frankenstein.
The monster, of course, played by Brendan Fraser.
Ghost
Dog: The Way Of The Samurai
Pumpkin
State rule number one: keep you cards close to your chest. People will
often think your hand is better than it is if they cannot see it. This
is pretty basic poker philosophy truth be told, but it work equally well
in all other scenarios. Don't tell people everything, they will assume
more if you do that - and hey, they may even think you are smarter than
you look. The second rule is a wee bit more specific - play comedy straight.
There was a spoof gangster movie which was made a couple of years back
called "Jane Austen's Mafia". It was from the Zucker, Abrahams, Zucker
stable, but I'm not convinced any of those three had anything to do with
it. Anyhow, despite the fine title it just did not work because all the
cast were mugging for jokes (see also "High School High" and pretty much
any film with Leslie Neilsen in since 1990). To pull off comedy it must
be clear that the characters are not aware they are in a comedy.
The characters
in Ghost Dog : The Way Of The Samurai are not aware they are in a comedy.
They are all pretty ridiculous and idiosyncratic, but nevertheless they
all take the situation very seriously. As does the film itself, with its
slow cuts, impressionistic fades and the philosophy underpinning the entire
story. For this is a serious story of a samurai and his bond to his master,
and the conflicts said master has in his duties to his retainer. That the
samurai uses sniper rifles, laser sights and is played by a generously
proportioned Forest Whittaker is the least of the films eccentricities.
That he tends for carrier pigeons may suggest a wee bit more of the oddness
of the film. But that no-one within the context of the film notes this
is the centre of Ghost Dog's charm.
Clumsy name
aside, Ghost Dog is a rather beguiling movie. It is written and directed
by Jim Jarmusch, a man not known for every really straying into the mainstream.
And this is his answer to a Tarantino film: glib, violent and set in a
self contained world similar but cooler than ours. This is a world where
street rappers knock about in parks with their compatriots playing chess.
A world where a Seneglese ice cream vendor can survive without ever taking
any money for his ice-cream. A world where a Mafia don can also be a big
fan of Flavor Flav. Jarmusch uses a selection of simple tricks to tie together
an unremarkable story and dress it up as something more important. He fails,
in as much as this never amounts to any more than just a very nicely presented
indie entertainment. However that it entertains in its own way is undeniable.
Ghost Dog
is a classic case of style over substance. The actual story, that of an
assassin being the target of those who hired him for his last job is as
old as - if not the hills at least Sylvester Stallone. This is not shot
in big budget action style however. Instead we have long impressionistic
tranches of film as we follow our portly self-styled samurai as he goes
about doing that which his code tells him to do. Perhaps the film is trying
to make points about honour, loyalty and the need to devote ones life to
a certain aim - but I don't think so. It could be making parallels between
the mafia and the feudal system in ancient Japan, but again I think that
is too laboured. Instead it is playing a few subtle tricks with its audience,
dropping movie and literature in jokes for us to savour and feel clever
about getting. Of course, these are not subtle at all: that a copy Rashamon
is passed between four characters is a pretty obvious way of suggesting
that all these characters may see the action from different perspectives.
Since this point is belaboured later in the film, cleverness is not what
this is all about.
Perhaps
what is most interesting about Ghost Dog is the wholesaling of the indie
style to the masses. Like I said, this is pretty much an action movie plot.
Jarmusch merely slows it down, peoples it with idiosyncratic characters
and spins some philosophy underneath it. Couple that with a tailor made
(and very good) Wu-Tang Clan score and you have the perfect independent
film. Perhaps it is lazy, but there is no reason it should not be a valid
shooting option like anything else. That independent films were often a
hotbed of intelligent, meaningful ideas should not detract from what Jarmusch
has done here. Though it may be cause for concern in the long run.
Ghost Dog
is a fun movie, but fun in an intellectual way. It is aimed squarely at
people who like their movies a little bit more cerebral, but certainly
does not pitch itself any higher than that. Self reflexive to a massive
degree (juxtaposing the potentially cartoonish violence with actual cartoon
violence throughout the film) it uses eccentricity over true character
development and the odd injection of violence to keep you watching. Watch
you do though, because it is all done so well. Acted well, Ghost Dog is
merely a conceit - a character comedy dressed up as something else. By
keeping its cards close to its chest, Ghost Dog appears a lot cleverer
than it is. You do get the feeling though that that is half the point however.
(7)
IF THIS
FILM WERE A CAR CRASH: Rashamon meets Shaft meets High Noon meets Goodfellas.
What Flavour do you prefer? Sasparella?
