The
Tailor Of Panama
Second film
in as many weeks to be based on a best selling British novel co-written
by the author and Andrew Davies. In the art of taking book to film there
is possibly no better abridger than Davies working today - though it is
a pity that more of his original stuff isn’t made. This is however miles
removed from Bridget Jones’s Diary - this is supposedly a grim and gritty
John le Carre. Except it isn’t, its equally a comedy of errors as Jones’s
is - its just that the error in this one cause people to die.
The Tailor
Of Panama is a John Boorman film and so we are already in pretty safe territory.
Boorman is going through a bit of a renaissance, post The General (one
of the best movies of the nineties) and here he is having a lot of fun.
Fundamentally he is playing around with the idea of espionage, secrets
and lies. Geoffery Rush plays the titular tailor - a man who has lied to
everyone in his life about his identity. Pierce Brosnan plays the disgraced
spy, who uses the tailor as a source to set up various operations. The
only problem is, the tailor is a liar - and ends up setting up some horrific
events with both personal and global effects. The film is a gentle political
comedy, with elements of drama and tragedy sprinkled on. Those elements
do not quite work, lending the last reel of the film a sloppy unfocussed
atmosphere. It is however still pretty entertaining to watch.
Much of
the fun here comes from Pierce Brosnan’s bad guy. It is quite obvious from
the moment of casting that the fact he plays a spy allows him to trade
on the Bond reputation. He goes out and trashes it for all it is worth.
What is odd though, for all his characters duplicity and nastiness he still
retains that ineffable charm, and convinces somewhat more than Bond does
as a secret agent. This is pretty much the Bond of Fleming, a user, ruthless
and eventually only out for himself. Up against him Geoffrey Rush’s tailor
is a bit of a charicature - the East-End kid from the rag-trade. He is
playing in the great tradition of Shylockesque Jew’s but neither the accent
nor the mannerisms quite convince. He is not a bad liar - but Boorman’s
introduction of Uncle Benny (played by Harold Pinter of all people) as
his imaginary conscience does the film few favours. Jamie Lee Curtis is
equally unconvincing as a potential mate for Rush, and gets to do next
to nothing in the film as it is.
So one good
cad performance does not make a film. Here though the slack is taken up
by the supporting cast. John Fortune as the ambassador playing a role he
knows to a tee, Leonor Varela’s Marta playing a woman with more than enough
history. To top it all a bizarre turn from Brendan Gleason playing Orson
Welles playing an American playing a Panamanian drunk freedom fighter,
a turn so close to being ridiculous it is fantastic. Nevertheless this
is a film which pretty much stand up on its story, a political thriller,
a commentary on the place for spying in the world these days. It is also
a treatise on deception, and whilst the ending has been chopped up and
looks rough and unsatisfactory, the final scene is one which plotwise is
wrong - but fits into reality. This is the kind of film where the bad guys
get away, its the bad guys with a conscience who get to suffer.
Boorman
has created a nice confection here, and films it exceptionally well. The
film is pacey and yet takes its time to linger over little ticks, and nuances
of expression. Brosnan is obviously having a ball here (much like Hugh
Grant revelled in playing the bad guy in Bridget Jones’s Diary - Andrew
Davies can write a cad). He also manages to show the contrasts of Panama
in a less than travelogue style, street poverty next to corrupt politics.
So while you are entertained you also get a fair whack of history and politics
of this odd region - all rather well explained.
The Tailor
Of Panama is fun, with a few serious ideas lurking in its underbelly. It
is therefore a pity that some of them are not more developed - however
Boorman has picked a tone and manages to stick with it. It is a film with
antecedents - it knows it owes much to Our Man In Havana - and Rush’s white
linen suit is a nod to Alec Guinness. There are also obvious hints of Casablanca
and a Touch Of Evil all adds to the fun. That the film is not wholly successful
is partially due to a slightly lack-lustre Rush and perhaps the decision
to toy with some of the moral aspects without fully developing them. Nevertheless
it has - with the exception of a butchered ending - been put together well
and is worth seeing for the sneering Pierce alone. (7)
IF THIS
FILM WERE A CAR CRASH: Let us imagine a proper Bond version of Casino Royale
with Our Man In Havana.
The
Talented Mr Ripley
Wither the
loveable rogue in modern society? The history of fiction is littered by
the guys, from Han Solo to Lovejoy, we love to see them beating the law,
whilst also fighting for right which they have made their own mind up about.
It’s a lot easier to sympathise with a loveable rogue than the goody goody
hero, who acts unrealistically out of a moral code which would be far too
strict to survive in the real world. And who pays them. No – the loveable
rogue is who we all want to be, the scamster, the flim-flam artist – who
kisses the girls and makes them cry. Go one way on this line and you end
up with the loveable goody two shoes. But go the other way and you get
the less than loveable murderous scamster. You get, in short, Mr Ripley
- he of the aforementioned talents.
I know a
lot of people who did not like The Talented Mr Ripley. I think I know why
too, its that the lead character is thoroughly reprehensible. A true died
in the wool bad guy who lies and murders for merely his own benefit. And
he is our central character. Now this presents a number of problems for
the modern cinema-going audience. We are not used to an anti-hero in this
day and age. Proper anti-heroes have died out, to be replaced by loveable
rogues, or more commonly – slightly idiosyncratic cops. Mel Gibson had
this problem last year in Payback, he had to temper his criminal with a
jokey sense of humour. Whereas here, in Tom Ripley, we are presented with
a character who is not only calculating – but pretty much a sociopath.
The modern audience finds it difficult to comprehend the doing of bad things
without being able to happily pigeonhole it as evil. Yet the way Ripley
is presented, he is altogether more complex than the word evil will allow.
Couple that with a homoerotic subtext, and an ending which goes a little
bit further than necessary and you might scratch the reason why it was
disliked.
I really
rather enjoyed it, for reasons which may well be wholly my own. First,
I like the cast. Jude Law has been impressive in nearly every film he has
turned up in since Wilde (and he is the best thing in the otherwise risible
Final Cut). I have a very soft spot for Matt Damon too, who is in the hardest
role here as Ripley and I think pulls it off with more than some creepy
aplomb. Rounding the female roles off with Paltrow and Blanchett seals
a certain quality that the project is obviously aiming at. Which is exactly
what Antony Minghella is aiming at here: the kind of classy, beautiful
if perhaps cold atmosphere of fifties Europe. In this he succeeds admirably
– perhaps again too much for the average audience.
The main
reason I liked the film though was the character of Ripley himself. I do
not personally believe in evil, and therefore Ripley’s descent into crime
and deception fits quite clearly many of my ideas on this kind of occurrence.
Whilst Ripley deceives people from early on, he is very much a naif in
a world which would normally despise him. By using only talents he has,
he manages to pull himself up and inhabit this higher echelon of society.
Of course, that he does this – and more importantly – keeps this level
due to murder is problematic. Nevertheless it is easy to see Tom’s rise
as a parallel to the who capitalist ethos, or even an evolutionary survival
of the fittest. This is perhaps where Minghella’s humanising to the Ripley
character both works for and against him. But making Ripley more understandable
to the audience, by hinting his flaws in his past, he makes him easier
to sympathise with (not I believe easy enough however). This also leaves
him more than a number of moments where he is not wholly in control, not
the criminal mastermind which would have made him perhaps a touch more
intriguing.
The Talented
Mr Ripley is merely an entertainment – and should not be treated as anything
else. Whilst the psychological motivations of Ripley are laid bare, it
is still quite plain that this is just a good story, pretty well told.
My only reservations come from its multiplicity of endings. There are two
places where this film could have ended before it actually did, one which
would have been wholly creepy, one which would have been satisfying. In
the end, there is a blend of these two moments – which is therefore weakened,
and illustrates the inherent flaws in what is a coincidence laden plot.
So the end is weak, and the film is a touch over-long because of this.
This may be a fault of sticking too close to the source material, the original
novel by Patricia Highsmith.
Despite
this ending problem, at least it did not cop out and give us the ending
most American movies would have given us. This is a dark movie, a melodrama
and has in its centre a lot of questions about morality. But what might
be most disturbing is that I actually sympathise with Ripley far too much,
I would do pretty much what he does in this film (with the exception of
the very ending – which is perhaps why I don’t like it that well). The
Talented Mr Ripley is a craftmans film, well written, well acted and rather
compelling. I liked it, but that might be because I am equally talented.
(8)
IF THIS
FILM WERE A CAR CRASH: Lovejoy meets Henry Portrait Of A Serial Killer,
in a To Catch A Thief Stylee.
Tarzan
It always
bothered me, Tarzan's little leather loincloth. There he was, being brought
up by apes in the wilds of the Africa, larking about with Cheetah, saying
"Ngowa" to the elephants and getting into endless scrapes with them crocodiles,
yet he felt it necessary to pop on a loincloth. Was the racial memory so
strong that he felt uncomfortable, literally naked, without some form of
clothes? Was it to prevent sunburn on his winkle? Or was it, more likely,
the fact that he was a wee bit embarrassed by its size. You've got to sympathise,
one of his best mates was an elephant.
In Disney's
version of Tarzan we do not get to see the private parts of the titular
hero. Instead, the bollocks is represented by Phil Collins music. Which
is a pity, because the rest of it work quite well. Of course, Disney have
ploughed this furrow before. The Jungle Book is merely Tarzan without all
the macho grown-up shit. The Lion King also gave us a nice round trip through
Africa, from the viewpoint of a nicely hierarchical feudal society. Both
of these were critical and comercial smashes, and more importantly seen
particularly fondly by the general public. So Disney decided to go back
to the jungle with a tale which is rather suited to animation, though perhaps
a touch dark for Disney.
The darkness
inherent in Tarzan is pretty much glossed over in this version - but hey
- these are the guys that gave The Hunchback Of Notre Dame a happy ending.
Still, there is the early doors death of his parents, and quite a dramatic
battle with a leopard which suggests that the film is going to stick to
its guns and really show us how hard life is in the jungle. Unfortunately
this does not pay off later in the film, when Brian Blessed's big white
hunter villain shows up it is more as comic relief than anything else.
This is all rather odd, as in other ways, Tarzan remains rather faithful
to Burroughs original. There is no "Me Tarzan, you Jane" nonsense, and
the threat posed by the "white man" is illustrated quite clearly in the
final section. The crux of the movie is Tarzan's sense of identity, explored
through love for both his family and his girl. All nicely worked out and
packaged rather well with some extraordinarily sumptuous visuals.
Brief note
about them visuals. When Tarzan really gets going on his traversing of
the jungle it truly is a sight to behold. He surf, flicks and trips through
the jungle as a true master of his element, and this mixed with the fantastic
depth they have managed to give the jungle is just about the best eye candy
you'll see this year. The chase between Tarzan, Jane and a horde of baboons
is both exciting, visually stunning and amusing. This is a fantastic Disney
moment, especially as it is followed by the introduction scene - de rigeur
for any Tarzan film and done exceptionally here. Indeed, the second half
of the film is a lot funnier than the first, almost wholly due to Minnie
Driver's prim, proper yet spunky version of Jane, who has a fully fledged
character, which I thought did not happen in Disney films these days. Certainly
the comedy which arises from her characters interaction with Tarzan shows
how poor the "comedy animal sidekick" concept (here played by Rosie O'Donnell)
is getting.
There are
a number of problems with Tarzan: the comedy monkey, the Phil Collins music,
the lack of darkness in the tale. But unlike much of Disney's output from
the last five years, these are kept to a minimum - as if they could not
take them out of the mix, but they tried to limit the damage they caused.
The animation is fantastic, and more sophisticated than any Disney effort
of late, whilst the story remains at its simplistic almost mythical feel.
The film does not moralise either, unlike most Disney, it walks the tightrope
between the appeal of segregation, with the acceptance of the outsider.
Tarzan may
not be the best animated film of the year (I've yet to see The Iron Giant
which I have heard a lot of good things about), but it is certainly the
best Disney effort since Aladdin. It was Aladdin that created the Disney
"formula", hopefully it is Tarzan that symbolises it being on its last
legs. Kinetic, funny and genuinely touching - which battles against crap
songs and still too much plot homogenisation. Tarzan is good, but its not
perfect. Because he wears a loin cloth. (7)
IF THIS
FILM WAS A CAR CRASH: Okay, how about Tarzan And Jane (the uncensored one
with Maureen O'Sullivan in a two piece) with The Jungle Book (without the
songs).
Ten
Things I Hate About You
I really
thought I was going to see a film about the tragic break up of one of the
best loved comedy duo's of our time. Everyone knows how their relationship
palled after filming the second series of Jeeves and Wooster, and the jealousy
incipent in Stephen Fry getting the Oscar Wilde gig. But this animosity
was, in many ways, stronger in the other direction. But luckily, in retrospect,
it wasn't Ten Things I Hate About Hugh.
We're back
in "teen classic update" territory here, much like last weeks Cruel Intentions,
and the far superior Clueless. I say the far superior Clueless, in that
it is far superior to Cruel Intentions. The jury is already out on whether
it is superior to 10 Things, as the majority of its claim may well be that
it came first. Because 10 Things I Hate About You is almost the perfect
teen comedy based on a Shakespeare play (sheesh - I can imagine it sweating
on that competitive front). 10 Things also is happily in the running for
giving all of John Hughes teen films a kicking too - and I say this with
mucho baited breath - all of John Hughes teen films including Ferris Buellers
Day Off. So tell us, cry you, how good is 10 Things I Hate About You?
Good. Very,
very good. If I was a gimmicky type of reviewer who went for the obvious
gag everytime my mouth opened I daresay I'd list the 10 Things I Liked
About 10 Things I Hate About You. And I am a gimmicky kind of guy.
1: The story.
This is Taming Of The Shrew done right. Now this may well appear as sacrilige
or something, but Taming Of The Shrew is not one of Shakespeare's best
comedies. Even leaving aside its glaringly sexist nature (understandable
some say from its period) it just ain't that funny and has a really bad
ending. 10 Things takes the basic premise, and subverts it with a storyline
which mirrors the original but makes a lot more sense.
2: The setting.
In its first five minutes the film manages to mark out its territory perfectly.
High schools are a perfect update of feudal Italy, and the cliques are
demarked to us very early on.
3: The characters.
Hey, there are some. Everyone develops (except perhaps our snarling villain).
Certainly our heroine and hero change, but they also explain quite naturally
what makes them the way they are. However, their supporting characters
also develop, and develop naturally.
4: Its funny.
Really funny. In every way. We have slapstick, physical humour, gross out
gags plus some very, very witty one liners. Someone poured over this script
with a fine toothcomb packing it with more gags per square inch than anything
bar The Simpsons.
5: Its short.
Y'naa, its a comedy. Its a bit of fluff. Of course its short, right? So
many films balls that one up.
6: Great
soundtrack. A witty soundtrack mixing some good late nineties rock with
stuff you would be more likely to find on the soundtrack to Pretty In Pink.
Clever.
7: The set
pieces. Name you're favourite teen set piece. Ferris Beuller doing "Twist
and Shout", right? Well Patrick doing "You're just too good to be true"
accompanied by marching band is better. Much better.
8: Its romantic.
Truely romantic, and because you care about the characters, you care what
happens to them. Its gooey and smart at the same time, and it knows how
to hit the right buttons. It could be called cynical on that front, but
i just see that as just another illustration of it being well made.
9: The actors.
Mainly unknowns, they actually look the right age and perform this material
perfectly. Attractive, but realistically attractive. Most of these kids
will go on to do stuff on the strength of this work.
10. The
shock horror score I'm giving this film. There's the gauntlet Hollywood,
I dare you to make a better film than this in 1999. Which is why 10 Things
I Hate About You gets this years first (10).
IF THIS
FILM WERE A CAR CRASH: Clueless hits Kiss Me Kate. And does it very, very
well.
The
Third Man
Well, wasn't
July a bit of a breathless month? All those big movies slipping out like
so many live fish leaping around in possibly the most laughable scene in
Godzilla. This has caused a wee bit of a problem though, over here in this
sceptred portion of land we refer to as North London. In the wake of such
movies, nothing else is released. In, say March, we'd get two Hollywood's,
a British movie at least a week. At the moment we are getting one blockbuster,
and a rancid selection of European films which are garnering ropey reviews.
To pep up the schedules, they also seem to be flinging old "classics" out
at us with spanking new prints. Well, with nothing else to see...
What are
the reasons why I have never seen The Third Man before? Well, as a kid
my Dad would have turned it over on the completely understandable premise
that he had already seen it. As you'll see in my Citizen Kane review (oh,
go on, you might as well go there as anywhere else) I was not overtly convinced
with Orson Welles credentials in the business. And to cap it all, I really
dislike Graham Greene and his catholic apoligism. I did a very long essay
for A-Level regarding Brighton Rock, The Power and the Glory and The Heart
Of The Matter, and frankly I found the geezer unbearable. So though I came
very close last year, with my Austriophile flatmate Leighton (I made it
to Welles' entrance before I had to go out) I have never seen it. So in
these weeks bereft of new releases I scurried into the over priced basement
of the Virgin Haymarket (a cinema which I used to love, but due to piss
poor programming and extortionate price hikes, has shimmied down my list
at an alarming speed).
So, was
I pleasantly surprised, like I was with old Citizen Kane (Go on, its a
good review). Well, yes and no. You see, while I haven't seen The Third
Man, I know what goes on in it. It is a film with a fatal flaw, as a suspense
thriller. The key twist comes halfway through with the revelation that
Harry Lime is not infact dead but alive. Yet everyone knows that Harry
Lime is played by Welles. So he obviously isn't dead from the get go. This
creates a film of two definate halves. So as a suspense thriller, it fails
to be suspenseful. However as a picture of the times, and as a compelling
tale about friendship and love, it wins in spades.
The films
depiction of post war Vienna, split into four, straddles a unique period
of time. With the hints of the previous horrors, in the bomb sites - and
the suggestions of the later cold war tensions (with the Russian sector
being the only place for Lime to stay) the film has a great historic resonance.
That the plot also involves the black market trafficking, which costs lives,
also illustrates how the human character will exploit others merely to
survive. Whilst Greene might consider The Third Man as just an entertaining
diversion, I feel that its skillful and timely juggling of these themes
whilst telling a romping good yarn is what distinguishes the Third Man.
That, and the scene stealing turn by Welles.
Admittedly
larger than Kane, and certainly larger than life, Welles employs his beguiling
smile to great effect. Lime is an intriguing character, because he is very
likable. His crime is appaling, yet in moments of weakness and in a place
where there are no real rules, his actions are understandable. Joseph Cotten
is fantastically bland in comparison, and whilst his actions may be morally
right his own self disgust and Anna's disgust with him. The best thing
about the film is how it captures these moral contradictions and does not
offer us an easy answer. This is brought out by the light and shade in
the perfectly framed cinematography, and the haunting (if very loud and
occsionally grating) zither music.
It has been
said that The Third Man is a film ahead of its time, which I would disagree
with. It is a film so much of its time, that it transcends its genre. It
is, after all, merely a potboiling thriller. That, as a thriller, it does
not really work does not matter. As a film, it is hugely impressive with
great themes about the human condition. It is enjoyable, and stimulates
the mind. But perhaps the best thing about the Third Man is that it inspired
one of the best Pinky and the Brain episodes ever - "The Third Mouse".
And just watching Brain, playing Lime, with Welles voice - is pure cartoon
heaven. (8)
IF THIS
FILM WERE A CAR CRASH: Citizen Kane hits a post war propoganda movie, plus
Man Hunt runs in (a really dodgy British film set just after the war).
Thirteen
Days
There are
certain rules in the titling of films. You have to be extremely wary of
giving a review or headline writer any leeway in taking your title and
twisting it against your will. Clockwatchers - as I have mentioned many
times before - is an absolute gift in this area. It is always wise to miss
out words such as dull, boredom and tedium in your title. And periods of
time - say like Thirteen Days - is a gift if what you are producing is
not knuckle-whiteningly exciting. And if I said Thirteen Days has Kevin
Costner in it which side of that knuckle fence do you think we are lying
on?
You would
be wrong. Only just, and despite the good efforts of Mr Costner. Nevertheless
Thirteen Days is actually a rather gripping film. This is almost totally
due to its subject matter - the Cuban Missile Crisis. Told from the inside
of the White House from the point of the discovery of the missiles until
the agreement is made - this is a fascinating docudrama trying to illustrate
the reality of politics at such a high level, with such high stakes. The
film is told from Costner’s characters point of view - Kenny O’Donnell
- Kennedys Special Aide - not that the actual characters in the piece truly
matter. Or in that case even exist. The story is everything here, and little
depth or flesh is put upon real life characters who existed.
The film
casts Bruce Greenwood exceptionally well as Kennedy, albeit a cleaner cut
Kennedy than the one we have become to expect from the literature. Most
of the other characters are drawn from the bland bit part players who make
a living out of being authority figures in other films. The problem is
here that this is all authority figures shouting, arguing and wringing
their hands at each other. If the story itself was not so interesting,
and the stakes so high, much of this could be very boring. As it is if
you know your history it unfolds at a steady pace which interests. If you
don’t, even though the ending is never in doubt (we’re here after all)
it is actually rather gripping. The script extrapolates what is known of
the arguments which took place, and presents a dim view of the joint chiefs
of staff as warmongerers. Despite the latitudes and liberties obviously
taken - you still know that there is a vein of truth running through the
whole thing. There must be, otherwise the whole project would be pointless.
This is a historical piece - there is literally nothing else in here.
Whilst the
performances are uniformly acceptible, the fact the film pins itself on
Costner is both a blessing and a problem. First it shows up the fact that
he is the most charismatic thing here - which is more a problem. Also there
are moments when O’Donnell, and hence the film, drifts into stagey patriotism
of the worst sort. Admittedly it could have been worse, but there are still
cornball moments which remind you clearly that this is not a documentary
but a drama - and one whose trustworthiness is questionable. Something
the odd black and white to colour sequences does not do - its a stylistic
choice which is certainly not consistently used but interesting nontheless.
Add to this some interspliced mushroom clouds we are at least reminded
- in this not so threatened age - of the horror of the bomb.
Thirteen
Days is a docudrama, and suffers from all the flaws of the form. Much of
it is squeaky clean, the characters are there in name only and never really
fleshed out. Secondly - whilst the film does whip along - it is still too
long at about two and a half hours. Add to this Costner doing another of
his silly accents and there is enough to dislike in the film. But the sheer
momentum of the script and the very piece of history itself is enough to
make this watchable. It is not the best historical piece you will ever
see, but by cleverly limiting its view to the claustrophobic corridors
of the White House it at least puts up a spirited attempt at explaining
and entertaining. (7)
IF THIS
FILM WAS A CAR CRASH: Shall we say JFK - obviously - for Costner and his
accent, smooshed into Scandal for liberties with history and some other
tense chamber piece.
The
Thomas Crown Affair
"Like a
circle in a circle, like a wheel within a wheel…", ah - The Windmills Of
Your Mind. A song which takes me back to my childhood, and a particularly
tedious Sunday afternoon watching The Thomas Crown Affair. To me this was
the epitome of adult film making. High on sexual tension and low on excitement.
Great dresses, fast cars but no car chases and all this interminable art.
Tricksy plot, characters I neither empathised with nor understood.
And here
we are, 1999, and what rolls round (like a circle in a circle, like a wheel
within a wheel?) but The Thomas Crown Affair 1999. This time for Steve
McQueen read Pierce Brosnan, for Faye Dunawaye read Rene Russo. The rest
is pretty much the same, only its me that's different. I am now an adult.
That said, my taste in movies has not really changed, only got a touch
more sophisticated (look, stop bringing up 10 Things I Hate About You -
that is sophisticated too). And I still think The Thomas Crown Affair is
the epitome of shallow adult film making. Not enough sex to be soft porn,
not enough thrills to be a thriller, no romance, and in the place of comedy
a few sly nods. The Thomas Crown Affair exists in a limbo of intriguing
ideas that were never going to work. It looks great, it makes all the right
moves but has very little in the way of heart.
Why is this?
Well, it's the old cliché about master thief movies. A theory that
is also spouted by the only other vaguely developed character in this film,
played by Dennis Leary. Who cares, is a picture worth a stupid about of
money. It does not matter in the scheme of things. There are no lives at
stake, there is nothing ostensibly damaged by the theft. It just develops
into a game of cat and mouse between Crown and Katherine Banning. This
version paints Crown via the simple technique of having the most loquacious
psychiatrist ever (played expertly, but perhaps too well by Faye Dunawaye,
who looks almost as good as Russo, thirty years on). So we know he is a
control freak, he has everything and isbored. Banning loves the chase,
and is intrigued by this control freak. But these are not real people.
They are no-one I recognise. The film knows this, but is not quite sure
what to do about it.
Director,
John McTiernan, has very little to do. Which is a great pity, since I like
John McTeirnan a lot. His field is more action movies, but he captures
what little there is to capture in the more intimate moments well. He also
manages to orchestrate the tricky sequences well, they aren't strictly
action sequences but they still require a steady handy on the directing
and editing. His main task is to suck us in, and as I said, this is a difficult
world to be sucked in to. His technique is to throw the emphasis off of
Crown, even off of Banning. For this film is actually about the cop Michael
McCaan, the supporting character played by Dennis Leary. This is the only
character that shows any real vunerability, any real development and the
only one we really feel has his story ended. He opens up, he tells us about
his dreadful past, he offers himself to Banning, and she rejects him. He
comes to terms with this and wishes her luck. Luck she will need because
Banning and Crown cannot trust each other, and there seems no end to the
tricks they play on each other to earn that trust. You feel this will always
be the case, so there's is not a great romantic reunion at the end - no
matter what the slinky new version of Windmills Of Your Mind sugests.
The Thomas
Crown Affair, much like the film it remakes, is all gloss and very little
substance. It is well made, but shallow. That it coaxes probably the best
ever screen performance from Leary is a minor plus point (see my Rushmore
review for my previous opine on Leary) - but this isn't too hard since
Leary has been in some absolute stinkers. Brosnan can do charming, infact
that is pretty much all he's been doing since Remington Steele (and did
he actually do anything before?), and does it well here. To be fair, the
role of Crown is more suited to him than McQueen. Russo makes a fine fist
of Banning, but having Dunawaye in the picture reminds us of what we had
in the past. A pair of Jackie O specs do not make sexual tension. Oh, the
film is fine, and will pass the time. But no end of seventies style sex
scenes make up for the lack of emotional involvement. But its always nice
to hear The Windmills Of Your Mind again. (6)
IF THIS
FILM WERE A CAR CRASH: The original Thomas Crown Affair, with a slight
run in with a late seventies porn film, and a recent Bond flick.
Three
Kings
Disappointment
can come in many forms, but often it is our own fault. The raised expectations
of certain events can only leave an empty feeling if the event is not as
spectacular as hoped. Look at the hype regarding the Star Wars movie last
year, it would have been hard pushed to please everyone (that said, it
might have tried a little bit harder to have pleased its actually constituency
- kids - and this is not best done by just bunging a kid in the movie).
Whilst I have more than enough healthy cynicism to ignore the hype for
major movies, I am still a sucker for another form of expectation raising.
And that is internal. One of my favourite movies of the nineties was "Flirting
With Disaster", an excellent screwball comedy written and directed by David
O.Russell. Going back to find his previous film - "Spanking The Monkey"
I found a flawed but very interesting film about a subject that has always
been interesting to me, incest (on a purely intellectual level you understand).
So to Three Kings: David O.Russell's new movie.
Of course,
I set my stall out from the outset. Three Kings disappointed me. This disappointment
though will be couched in any number of caveat's and excuses I will make
for Russell. Because both Russell the director, and his attractive, starry
cast - do a fine job here. Instead my problem appears to lie with Russell
the writer, and even there I get the feeling that the whole project was
potentially doomed from the start. You see Three Kings is a movie about
the Gulf War, is an attempt at a modern black comedic satire on said war
and then it follows American foreign policy. It's also a hip, flashily
shot buddy comedy - a la Kelly's Heroes. Let us just say, Russell has probably
bitten off more than he can chew.
So the good.
As I said, the main actors do a fine job at portraying sympathetic characters
that are at the outset merely thieves. This moral ambiguity is very important
to the film, as it is one of the films subtlest political points (in a
film which tends to use a sledgehammer to crack a nut). George Clooney
can do loveable rogue in his sleep, but does actually attempt a few extra
touches here. Mark Whalberg is the character the audience are supposed
to identify with, and the sea changes in his attitudes nearly all convince.
Ice Cube has little to do except be reliable, play a kind of rougher Denzel
Washington, all moral upstandingness. The best acting is not from a star,
or even an actor, but fellow director Spike Jonze laying on the stupid
psycho hick treatment thick. Indeed the performances are so committed and
well paced that you get the feeling that what has really hit this movie
is editing and rewrites.
Y'see there
are three major problems with Three Kings (four problems if you count the
title - which kind of tips the wink that one of our original four not at
all monarch-like beings is going to get it - and he's the non-famous actor
one). The three problems with Three Kings are its length, its take on politics
and a desire to have its cake and still eat it. Three Kings tries to do
far too much, first hour is a gritty Kelly's Heroes, second hour is a bit
like Commando mixed with Ishtar. Not only is it a dark comedy, but it also
wants to show the horrors of war. It wants to show how American foreign
policy left the Iraqi's in the lurch and it wants to show that people are
people. But all it really does is stamp its little foot and sing "The War
Song" by Culture Club. And we all know that "War, war is stupid - but people
are stupid".
Three Kings
could have been a fantastic movie if it was half an hour shorter and tried
to do fewer things. It carries its excess baggage badly. The fact that
it needed its heroes to be heroes, rather than the credible anti-heroes
it had set them out as gives the film a fatal flaw. This undermines its
attempt at hard-hitting political comment, because it excludes the very
people we are following and by corollary excludes us the audience too in
the criticism. Entertainment and politics can be good bedfellows, but they
must serve each other and the greater good of the film. Here it undermines
it, and by a hastily slapped on vaguely happy ending cheapens the overall
effect. This is also apparent from the second half that continues the oddly
surreal set of occurrences from the first half, but makes no humorous comment
about them.
I really
wanted to like Three Kings, and in discrete chunks I did. There are some
fantastic parts of the movie, the cut-ins to the inside of the body and
the torture of Marky Mark Whalberg are all good to watch. Equally the jumpy
editing, use of hand-held and over exposed film serves the film perfectly.
But in the end the movies structure sabotages it. Not to mention its name,
which makes no sense in the context of the movie. And that's enough to
bug the hell out of me. (6)
IF THIS
FILM WERE A CAR CRASH: Wants to be Doctor Strangelove hitting Apocalypse
Now, but turns into Kelly's Heroes hitting Commando.
Timecode
I am not
a huge fan of jazz. Or at least dinner jazz, supper jazz: background music
which is supposed to aid the digestion. It creates mood without emotion,
and this I am extremely suspect of. Mike Figgis has always stuck me as
a supper jazz director. He is a musician and he understands the way that
laconic movement, angsty pauses and jazz can create a feeling without necessarily
creating any dramatic tension. Therefore it is fair to say I have never
really cared for Figgis’ movies. Leaving Las Vegas is a triumph of style
over content, it means well but to be fair bored me. Stormy Monday had
Sting in it, so I suppose all bets were off to start off with. And One
Night Stand yet again dealt with dark issues yet had a superficiality which
failed to engage me.
So to Timecode,
where Figgis does not radically alter his style. There are long pauses,
psychobabble, people being hurt by other people and there is the jazz.
Even when Figgis strays from a jazz score he goes to coffee table dance
(Everything But the Girl). No, the only real difference between Timecode
and the rest of Figgis’ movies, and indeed every other movie ever made,
is that there are four scenes on show at any one time. Four mini-Figgis
movies shot in one take, telling aspects of the same story from different
perspectives. Four handheld digital videos, one and a half hours in length
dovetailing in to make a complete whole. With a jazzy soundtrack. It takes
all of what I would consider Figgis’ shortcomings as a director, throws
it in the air and makes a coherent and fantastic whole.
Timecode
is a masterpiece. But is that because it is so experimental, so different
and so technically adept. In short, was I wowwed by the idea but not the
plot? Well it is always difficult to separate form from content, and there
are particular aspects of Timecode’s shooting which are just so impressive
that they could detract from what actually goes on. Nevertheless the tale
at the heart of Timecode is a very Figgis-like story, almost to the point
of self parody. Would any of the individual four films be any good on their
own? Well, of course the one take movie has not been done in a long time,
for good pacing reasons, but even so one of the four segments (the one
ostensibly starring Stellan Starsgaard – also known as bottom right) would
hold up rather well. But it is the innovation, it is the ability to see
of scene, the ability to choose your own movie which makes Timecode both
innovative and excellent.
The metaphor
of jazz keeps rearing its head when I think of Timecode. Figgis’ experience
as a musician and recorder of sound allows him to make the boldest move
in the film. Not the juxtaposition of the four shots, but the mixing of
the four soundtracks, plus music track. He manages to keep a coherence
going even when laying three of four dialogue lines over themselves. He
uses the surround technology well to highlight which screens are being
eavsdropped on, whilst always making each screen interesting to watch.
Brooding silence tends to belong in the top left screen, Jeanne Tripplehorn
eavesdropping on Salma Hayek. We see her reactions to what we also see
happening in the screen below. Because it fits in with the way the story
is told, it does not seem forced, yet much of this is improvised and yet
on the button.
I am no
great fan of improvisation, but in a project like Timecode I can see how
it is almost impossible to escape. The four simultaneous takes were apparently
done 18 times, and you would imagine a large number of fuck ups along the
way. This is the 18th take, and all the clever cues (the earthquake and
aftershocks) are hit impressively – albeit in grand Star Trek fashion.
That said, by the time we got to the 18th take, the dialogue had probably
bedded down. Which also allows quite a lot of droll humour in Figgis’ movie
satire part of the work. Certainly it is self reflexive (a pitch is made
very similar to Timecode). But there are also some really good jokes too
(Trey Parker and Matt Stone's ‘Time Toilet’ is a masterful idea). Figgis
has built an ensemble of good actors, rehearsed them and turned out a film
which has the apparent danger of live theatre. This sensation is enhanced
by attempting more difficult shots – the earthquakes, a number of flowing
pick-ups from screen to screen. It dares you to catch it out, as well as
it dares you to keep up.
Timecode
is nigh on a masterpiece. It is not just content to tell the same story
on four screens, it attempts something a lot more difficult. That he has
a number of very good actors to help him do this certainly makes his life
easier, but merely to conceive of the project in the first place pushes
him well up on my favourite director list. That the film is therefore so
soulful, funny and entertaining as well really marks it out as something
special. 2000 is starting to look like the year of the maverick, film like
Being John Malkovitch and Timecode are playing with narrative form, playing
with the audience and yet entertaining too. I guess I might have to start
listening to Jazz. (10)
IF THIS
FILM WERE A CAR CRASH: The Player hits Rope, in four way split screen stylee
and maybe a Mike Leigh film due to the improve used. Better than that may
suggest.
Toy
Story 2
Maybe its
just the time of the month but I've been feeling pretty churlish of late.
Work has been getting me down a bit, I've got a move impending and February
isn't exactly the month of Gambolling lambs. So I'm sitting around trying
to think of reasons to dislike Toy Story 2. And if you sit around long
enough in that kind of mood, you'll always find something. So here goes
- since I saw the flick almost week ago - here are ten reasons to dislike
Toy Story 2: and in a Imre Lakatos "Proofs And Refutations" kind of way,
I'll answer said criticisms.
1) Its a
sequel. All sequels are shit. (Curse of the Cat People. And er, Godfather
2, Aliens, Waynes World 2 - for Kate and John, and Weekend At Bernies 2
- fundamentally for me. We all have our weaknesses.)
2) Tom Hanks
is in it. At least Tom Hanks does a voice in it, and Tom Hanks is shit,
and has never been in a good film. (Now I'll be the first bloke to admit
I don't like the Hankster that much, but I will always hold a candle for
his earlier comic roles - especially Volunteers - and in the Toy Story
movies that's pretty much what he does.)
3) Half
the voices come from actors who star in American Sitcoms. American sitcoms
are rubbish and therefore the voice qualities are poor. (Frasier, Seinfeld,
Larry Sanders… Now I'd admit that Tim Allen's Home Improvement stinks up
Channel Fours schedules, but one dog does not make a day afternoon.)
4) Its animated,
which means its going to be full of rubbish songs. (Iron Giant. Next. Actually
- I might hold this one up, because whilst it is notably lighter on tunes
than the original, the one moment the movie really flags is the tune halfway
through - its a real stare at your feet cringer.)
5) Ditto,
animation means aimed at kids. (Its visceral, visual and colourful sure.
But there are subtler jokes to be seen, and adventure is adventure at any
costs.)
6) The original
film, whilst a breakthrough in computer animation, suffered from a counter-productive
message. In it the child which was creative was viewed as the bad guy.
Surely the follow up will continue this line. (Again, an interesting point.
Toy Story 2 is not as dark as the original, and the villainous Toy Collector
does not match the imaginative evil genius of Sid. Instead there is an
equally odd message in the sequel which could yet again effect children
in an odd way. Here we see toys dreading the time they are no longer loved.
This is almost a tacit metaphor for death, which is embraced within the
film - which could also stunt a childs emotional growth if they feel they
are "killing a toy" by no longer playing with it. Interesting subtext nevertheless
- worthy of a film which has a number of more complex themes).
7) Computer
animation has gone on in leaps and bounds, this will look clunky in comparison.
(The advances in technology allow the original characters to do more, their
world is a lot larger, but wisely John Lassiter knows the designs themselves
are already classics. It fits in the same world as the original).
8) The original
film had little in the way of positive female characterisation, reinforcing
a male centric view of the world. (Well, Toy Story 2 has a major female
character, plus a lot of viciously lampooned Barbie's and a Mrs Potato
Head. Jessie the cowgirl is a genius creation, spunky, full of life and
a nice enough new character to make her fit.)
9) Its just
another merchandising blitz on kids, the film just sells its own toys.
(No, that was A Bugs Life. Toy Story 2 in particular lampoons the entire
toy and merchandising business).
10) There
is a character called Stinky Pete in it which is giving a bad name to blokes
called Pete everywhere. (Even I think I smell a bit sometimes).
Bottom line,
Toy Story 2 is just excellent entertainment. Not only that but there are
plenty of themes and sub texts to get your teeth into if you want to. But
bottom line, its just great fun for all the family. And chalking up the
points from above it therefore gets a (9 - loses one for the bad song,
cos it is that bad.)
IF THIS
FILM WERE A CAR CRASH: Toy Story (doh!) gets hit surprisingly by Fight
Club, less surprisingly by Star Wars and Jurassic Park, and it took a vague
hint from Small Soldiers too.
Traffic
Witness
the complete rehabilitation of Steven Soderbergh. No longer living in the
world of arthouse movies that no-one watches he has managed in the space
of two films (three if you count The Limey - which I wouldn’t because it
is too small a movie) to become the hottest ticket in Hollywood. Out Of
Sight was funky and sexy, Erin Brockovitch was earnest whilst being very
funny - and Traffic - well Traffic is just astoundingly ambitious. That
it works half as well as it does is a triumph. That it comes within a year
of Brockovitch goes to show that a work ethic sometimes pays off.
Traffic
is a loose and sprawling look at the cocaine trade in the US. Based, loosely
and less sprawlingly, on a Channel 4 TV series of almost the same name
(Traffik) in the early nineties which I am pleased to say I watched. As
ambitious as the series with a lot less time to examine the issues - Traffik
had eight hours to tell pretty much the same kind of story as Traffic does
in two and a half. There are three main strands to Traffic. There is the
work of the police in Mexico - where Benicio Del Toro’s clean cop slowly
compromises himself to stop a trade which he sees destroying his country.
Then we have Catherine Zeta Jones, an innocent taking over her husbands
drug business when he goes to jail - she merely sees the money. And at
the far end of the spectrum we has Michael Douglas’ drugs czar (a ridiculous
term - imagine an Alcohol Sheikh) in charge of the anti-drugs program whose
own daughter is herself getting involved in drugs. So you see what I mean
about ambitious.
On top of
all that plot, Soderbergh both directs and photographs the film - and yet
again we see the techniques that Out Of Sight, The Limey and Erin Brockovitch
played with well. Jerky, hand-held camerawork gives certain scenes a more
documentary feel - yet he restrains himself in the quieter scenes. Each
strand is shot with a distinctive filter and grade of film - most notably
the almost sepia tinged Mexican scenes. Even this changes in places, he
does not tie himself to his techniques when stories intercept - or even
when stories change. The blue tinged Michael Douglas scenes merely exist
when he is in government - when drugs touch his life more colour seeps
in. To do all of this, and present a vast range of well developed characters
is nothing short of phenomenal.
It is clear
that Soderbergh has a way with actors, and can tease out exceptional performances.
There isn’t a dud note in this film (CZJ gets to the edge of ropey acting
at one point - which is nicely rationalised by the shock she gets at the
same time). That said - Benicio Del Toro is an absolute revelation here
- in an almost entirely Spanish speaking role he serves as the films conscience
- and a duplicitous and mixed up conscience that is. The film is almost
ambivalent about drugs, and its effects - and this could be seen as a flaw.
The only drug victim we see in the film is the privileged daughter of Michael
Douglas - a character who does not inspire sympathy. That ambivalence though
serves to emphasise the documentary style - and while the almost nihilistic
conclusion that the war on drugs is pointless - the film neither argues
for a cease of it, or any legalisation stance. Perhaps this lack of conclusion
is a flaw, but it did not seem that way to me. I actually found it quite
refreshing.
Traffic
is a surprisingly simple film, for all its complex technique and intertwining
of plots. This is mainly due to an underlying vision to the film, whilst
the film may seem almost without a narrative drive its various stories
compliment one another to create at least the sensation of a moving, vital
film. So we get angst from Douglas, followed by action with the LA police,
followed by smokey introspection in Mexico. The stories lightly intercept,
and whilst you know there is a lot more to the trade than the film is showing
- it gives you more than enough to digest in one session. Traffic is an
oddly entertaining film, for a film of its subject, but that entertainment
comes squarely from the pleasure of seeing a job well done. You would call
Traffic Soderbergh’s masterpiece - if you were certain he won’t top it
with another film. And that I could not say. (9)
IF THIS
FILM WAS A CAR CRASH: The Falcon And The Snowman hits Drugstore Cowboy
hits Scarface and a whole bunch of other excellent movies all in one huge
aesthetically pleasing pile up.
