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| JERSEY GIRL |
| 03.27.04 (10:43 pm) [edit] |
JERSEY GIRL
Cast: Ben Affleck, Liv Tyler, George Carlin, Stephen Root, Raquel Castro, Jason Biggs, Will Smith, and Jennifer Lopez
Directed by: Kevin Smith
Written by: Kevin Smith
Distributor: Miramax Films (US 2004)
Rated: PG-13 on appeal for language and sexual content including frank dialogue
As Reviewed by: Gabriel Shanks
Although it may not be the best film of 2004, there is every reason to believe that, come December, [b]JERSEY GIRL[/b] will have proven to be the most surprising. It is a study in confounded expectations: a wholesome domestic drama from one of Hollywood's snarkiest film directors that, in advertisements, bills itself as a whacked-out kiddie comedy. Starring the most overexposed celebrity of the past year, Ben Affleck -- who shot [b]JERSEY GIRL[/b] long before his engagement-breaking PR hurricane with Jennifer Lopez -- [b]JERSEY GIRL[/b] has become a bit meta...watching it, one realizes it is not merely a movie, but also a referendum on his leading-man abilities and an unexpected career overhaul attempt. (Welcome The Post-Bennifer Affleck, aka Serious Ben.) And the film's biggest surprise? George Carlin can act. Rarely has such a small, uninspiring story been so provocative...through no fault of its own.
[b]JERSEY GIRL[/b] springs fully-formed from the mind of Kevin Smith, who first broke into national recognition with the Sundance hit [i]Clerks[/i]. (Smith's ten years in the biz is trumpeted at the beginning of [b]JERSEY GIRL's [/b]credits, with an extended title card for his View Askew production company.) Smith has developed an enduring reputation as a smart director with a frat boy funny bone. His screenplays are verbose and intellectual while remaining accessible; his subjects may be fanciful (lesbian-straight guy romance, the Biblical apocalypse...yes, those are two different films), but his direction is rarely daring, even mundane. His last film, [i]Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back[/i], followed two stoners across America to stop a planned movie about them being produced by Miramax...the company that was, in fact, the producers of [i]J&SBSB[/i]. It was stupid-funny, and very enjoyable. He is one of the most original artists working in mainstream cinema today, a confluence of incongruities.
In [b]JERSEY GIRL[/b], it's all gone...it's as if Kevin Smith changed up everything. And while that's interesting in and of itself, the end results are less enjoyable than his previous efforts. The flat and linear direction has been replaced by decorous but saccharin camera work that would be easily at home in a Hallmark Hall of Fame presentation. Instead of music that challenged the narrative thread, the soundtrack is filled with acoustic-folk/adult-rock songs about longing that seem perfect for a very special episode of [i]Party of Five[/i]. Most distressingly...where's the funny? The film flings itself headlong into sentimentality, rolling around in its overemotionality. It is, simply, a genre picture: a cute kid, a young widower, and a love interest. The cinematic recipe could not be clearer if you added water and stirred.
Expectations are, of course, the fault of the viewer...or in this case, the reviewer. And I willingly admit to the fact that [b]JERSEY GIRL[/b] isn't bad so much as unexpected. Were this film to be made by, say, Garry Marshall ([i]The Princess Diaries[/i]), one might be expecting a bit of lightweight romantic dithering. With Smith, however -- who has sagely and wittily tweaked social mores in [i]Mallrats[/i], [i]Chasing Amy[/i], and [i]Dogma [/i]with a flair unlike any director of his generation -- one is left scratching his head at this thoroughly conventional, surprisingly limp movie.
Ben Affleck struggles to make [b]JERSEY GIRL[/b] his own, and never truly succeeds at the task. The problem, of course, is that despite three box-offices failures in a row ([i]Daredevil[/i], [i]Gigli[/i], and [i]Paycheck[/i]) Affleck is still a Huge Movie Star -- in his own mind, at least. That's not simply a snippy epithet on my part: as an actor, Affleck unconsciously exudes a glossy sheen, a camera-friendly veneer that colors his performances with a smug artificiality. Sometimes, he has used this varnished quality to great effect, especially as a smarmy lawyer in the little-seen [i]Changing Lanes[/i] or in Smith's own [i]Dogma[/i]. But as a lonely, emotionally-damaged single parent in a lower-class neighborhood of New Jersey, Affleck stands out like the proverbial sore thumb. Sure, he plumbs the depths of aww-shucks affability in trying to connect to the common man, but there's little to make one think that Affleck -- whitened teeth and tanned smile -- is actually one of them. It's perhaps telling that Affleck's best chemistry in the film is not with his young daughter Gertie (Raquel Castro), or with his love interest, the video store clerk Maya (Liv Tyler). His best chemistry is with -- in a cameo of gargantuan proportions -- Will Smith. The star of [i]Men In Black[/i] plays himself, meeting Affleck by chance in the lobby of a PR firm...but the two seem like old buddies, falling into a rhythmic patter that is pure Hollywood. These are A-listers, baby, and don't you forget it.
I'm sure that Affleck must have seemed like ideal casting for a character who must repent from his youthful self-absorption. An earnest actor, Affleck is willing to give it his best shot, but Smith's screenplay -- peppered with mushy monologues and teary family disputes -- doesn't give him any help. After his first wife (Lopez) dies in childbirth, we catch up with Ollie (Affleck) seven years later, having lost his high-powered job and trying mightily to raise his precocious daughter. Helping out is his father, Bart (George Carlin), but Ollie has a lot to learn about being a parent. Cue the folk-rock music and close up on the tear trickling down his cheek.
[b]JERSEY GIRL[/b] is not a terribly bad movie, despite its utter predictability. It finds refreshing energy in Carlin and Tyler, who have a charming earthiness and crisp delivery that counters Affleck's languidity. Carlin, in particular, finds a depth that one may have never expected from him in the past; his trademark curmudgeonly dourness is mixed with a brusque sensitivity and a tenderness, especially with his granddaughter. It is one of those moments when an audience realizes that character actors can be truly astounding.
[b]JERSEY GIRL [/b]may not be the film one would expect from Kevin Smith (or the performance one might hope for from Ben Affleck), but that is, ultimately, beside the point. Taken on its own merits, the film is a slight variation on child-and-father relationships that never deviates enough to find its originality. It is no more, and no less, that an uneven family drama. Let's hope that Smith's newfound maturity is only a temporary setback.
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| SPARTAN |
| 03.12.04 (5:10 pm) [edit] |
SPARTAN
Cast: Val Kilmer, Derek Luke, William H. Macy, Ed O'Neil, and Tia Texada
Directed by: David Mamet
Written by: David Mamet
Distributor: Warner Brothers (US 2004)
Rated: Rated R for violence and language
As Reviewed by: Gabriel Shanks
The title of David Mamet's new military thriller, [b]SPARTAN[/b], refers to no single character, bit of dialogue, or plot point. Rather, [b]SPARTAN [/b]is maybe the first film in history named after its directorial style -- clean, crisp, and economical. Mamet is a world-renowned playwright and a successful film director ([i]Heist[/i], [i]The Spanish Prisoner[/i]) known more for electrically florid wordplay than, well, sparseness. In this tale of international kidnapping, however, Mamet leaves the audience barely enough bread crumbs to keep up, instead creating taut, bracing scenes devoid of anything one might consider extraneousness. In this case, it marvelous proves that less is more. [b]SPARTAN [/b]is charged by its cool-edged simplicity, fueled by its rigorous adherence to the narrative...and any intelligent audience member willing to engage will find it significantly more fulfilling than an action film has any right to be.
It's evident from the opening frames that we're in for a distinctively different ride. Gone are the self-reflexive monologue backstories that fill in the blanks of most screenplays -- in their place is a steel-eyed military advisor with the single name of Scott (Val Kilmer), training recruits in a foreign wilderness. As abruptly as we arrived in this landscape, we leave it behind, suddenly embroiled into a kidnapping of an unnamed girl who clearly requires much more attention than the federal government normally metes out. Surprising turn follows surprising turn, never bending into sentimentality or genre cliche. This is a crime thriller for the terrorist age, and the stakes of the game are significantly altered -- we're in an international landscape that spins on more than one axis: political, religious, geographic, and covert operations. It is just about the smartest film one can possibly imagine in the genre it redefines.
Not only is [b]SPARTAN [/b]truly spartan, but so are its refreshing performances. Kilmer is grounded, subdued even, but never weak; his barely concealed instincts are as blade-sharp as the German hunting knife he carries. The moments of surprise -- and their are many of them -- are registered to great effect in Scott's reactions, who seems almost as shocked by some quick turns as we are. Kilmer is new to the world of Mamet, and it seems to have brought out the best in him and in the director, who clearly relishes the heroic impulses of his star. The only regular of Mamet's stable, actually, is longtime collaborator William H. Macy, who seems to be making a cameo until his character suddenly becomes very, very important. (But not at all in the way one thinks.) Two young actors who made impressive debuts in recent years, Derek Luke ([i]Antwone Fisher[/i]) and Aaron Stanford ([i]Tadpole[/i]), seem a bit out of their depth in Mamet's intricate universe, but both give it an admirable try. Ed O'Neill continues a career reimagination as the hard-nosed bureau chief whose ethics shift with the political winds.
There's almost a menacing snarl to [b]SPARTAN[/b], which begins intensely and finishes the same; its rhythms are those of a mystery, but a mystery as filtered through an Ironman competition. There's a grittiness itching beneath the smooth-as-silk cinematography by Juan Ruiz Anchia, a bombast hiding in the minor chords of Mark Isham's minimalist score. It's as if the whole film is straining at its bonds, ready to leap off the screen at any moment. That's called dramatic tension, my friends, and it's what all great movies are made of. The struggle between the power of its story and the simplicity of its design makes [b]SPARTAN [/b]well worth the time of any serious moviegoer.
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| BON VOYAGE |
| 03.11.04 (11:59 am) [edit] |
BON VOYAGE
Cast: Isabelle Adjani, Gerard Depardieu, Virginie Ledoyen, Peter Coyote and Gregori Derangere
Directed by: Jean-Paul Rappeneau
Written by: Gilles Marchand, Patrick Modiano, Jean-Paul Rappeneau, Julien Rappeneau, and Jerome Tonnerre
Distributor: Sony Pictures Classics (US 2004)
Rated: PG-13 for some violence
As Reviewed by: Gabriel Shanks
There's an almost classical grace to Jean-Paul Rappeneau's wartime comedy [b]BON VOYAGE[/b], the recent Cesar-winning effort starring France's biggest exports, Isabelle Adjani (Queen Margot), Gerard Depardieu (Green Card), and Virginie Ledoyen (The Beach). And, as far as classical grace goes when making a comedy, it delivers...although its pleasures, to be honest, are reminiscent less of a bubbly champagne and more of a refined, unadorned table wine. Distinctively European in rhythm and almost quaint in its period detailing, the film never manages more than a few chuckles -- and yet, there's a gentle elegance pervading every frame that is consistently engaging, even when the storyline occasionally loses its firm footing. Perhaps it is because [b]BON VOYAGE[/b] is a paean to the glamourized war films of the 1940's, or perhaps because it reminds its audiences of star sirens and Hollywood's Golden Age. Whatever the case, Rappeneau has created a pleasant comic diversion that has the rare effect of getting better in one's memory.
All of the elements, of course, are meant exactly for this manipulation. Gabriel Yared, the exemplary Oscar-winning composer of [i]The English Patient[/i], [i]The Talented Mr. Ripley[/i], and [i]Cold Mountain[/i], contributes his most lush, romantic score yet to [b]BON VOYAGE[/b], playing upon historical Hollywood formulas which extravagantly embellish each moment. Thierry Arbogast, the noted cinematographer who lensed the most underrated film of last year (Brian De Palma's [i]Femme Fatale[/i]), clearly shared Yared's passion for 1940's cinematic melodrama; whether having lovers run in the rain, meet on a beach, or run from hired thugs through the forests, every scene could have been easily mistaken for a romantic thriller made sixty years ago. (Overheard in the theatre during the screening: "It's [i]Casablanca [/i]in color.")
Perhaps the most unique element, then, to [b]BON VOYAGE[/b] is that many of the performances (but not all) feel quite contemporary. Is this Rappeneau's choice, or simply an oversight? It makes no matter, even when Adjani, as the aging screen starlet Viviane Denvers, seems to be channeling early Norma Shearer while her costar Gregori Derangere, makes his writer-slash-romantic-doo rmat Frederic seem like a new-generation, Nora Ephron-inspired sensitive hero. In Hollywood equivalence, [b]BON VOYAGE[/b] would star Greta Garbo and Tom Hanks.
Although there is a jarring disconnect in the performance styles, the film itself never waivers from its period roots. As World War II looms and German forces threaten to occupy France, Viviane and Frederic are fleeing Paris to Bordeaux, where the French government is convening in exile. Viviane finds security in the arms of Beaufort (Depardieu), a French minister who is trying to save his country while drooling all over the actress, and a Alex (Peter Coyote), a German spy posing as a journalist. Meanwhile, the disconsolate Frederic begins to fall for Camille (Ledoyen), an impassioned student who is trying to get her professor's politically important science experiments out of the country. [b]BON VOYAGE[/b] is not as maniacally joyful as this circuitous plot may sound; indeed, where it perhaps should be zany, it is merely convoluted.
The singular shining light of the ensemble, as she has been in so many films, is Isabelle Adjani, who leaves nothing to chance in her outsized portrayal of Viviane. Unable to stop acting on screen or off, Viviane is a compendium of self-contained manipulations. To get what she wants, she will either conform or confound the stereotypes of femininity to achieve her immediate goals; however, long-term goals (or thought) evades her in almost every instance, creating some delightful comic moments. Here is a woman who runs through three men in the course of ten minutes...to find a better hotel room. Ledoyen and Derangere both exude passion and verve, and Coyote proves to be significantly more versatile than previous roles might suggest. If there is a weak link, it is Depardieu, whose wide-eyed stare suggests that Beaufort is a novice in the worlds of love and politics...a novice that is rarely anything but agog.
Posh, stylish, and with very little going on in its head, [b]BON VOYAGE[/b] is neither as dizzying nor as entertaining as it could be. The nature and style of Rappeneau's classicism is at odds with its languid pace and divergent genre-hopping (romantic comedy becomes noir mystery becomes political drama). It is a tribute to the remarkable team behind the film, however, that it remains a very good time at the cinema.
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| BON VOYAGE |
| 03.11.04 (11:58 am) [edit] |
BON VOYAGE
Cast: Isabelle Adjani, Gerard Depardieu, Virginie Ledoyen, Peter Coyote and Gregori Derangere
Directed by: Jean-Paul Rappeneau
Written by: Gilles Marchand, Patrick Modiano, Jean-Paul Rappeneau, Julien Rappeneau, and Jerome Tonnerre
Distributor: Sony Pictures Classics (US 2004)
Rated: PG-13 for some violence
As Reviewed by: Gabriel Shanks
There's an almost classical grace to Jean-Paul Rappeneau's wartime comedy [b]BON VOYAGE[/b], the recent Cesar-winning effort starring France's biggest exports, Isabelle Adjani (Queen Margot), Gerard Depardieu (Green Card), and Virginie Ledoyen (The Beach). And, as far as classical grace goes when making a comedy, it delivers...although its pleasures, to be honest, are reminiscent less of a bubbly champagne and more of a refined, unadorned table wine. Distinctively European in rhythm and almost quaint in its period detailing, the film never manages more than a few chuckles -- and yet, there's a gentle elegance pervading every frame that is consistently engaging, even when the storyline occasionally loses its firm footing. Perhaps it is because [b]BON VOYAGE[/b] is a paean to the glamourized war films of the 1940's, or perhaps because it reminds its audiences of star sirens and Hollywood's Golden Age. Whatever the case, Rappeneau has created a pleasant comic diversion that has the rare effect of getting better in one's memory.
All of the elements, of course, are meant exactly for this manipulation. Gabriel Yared, the exemplary Oscar-winning composer of [i]The English Patient[/i], [i]The Talented Mr. Ripley[/i], and [i]Cold Mountain[/i], contributes his most lush, romantic score yet to [b]BON VOYAGE[/b], playing upon historical Hollywood formulas which extravagantly embellish each moment. Thierry Arbogast, the noted cinematographer who lensed the most underrated film of last year (Brian De Palma's [i]Femme Fatale[/i]), clearly shared Yared's passion for 1940's cinematic melodrama; whether having lovers run in the rain, meet on a beach, or run from hired thugs through the forests, every scene could have been easily mistaken for a romantic thriller made sixty years ago. (Overheard in the theatre during the screening: "It's [i]Casablanca [/i]in color.")
Perhaps the most unique element, then, to [b]BON VOYAGE[/b] is that many of the performances (but not all) feel quite contemporary. Is this Rappeneau's choice, or simply an oversight? It makes no matter, even when Adjani, as the aging screen starlet Viviane Denvers, seems to be channeling early Norma Shearer while her costar Gregori Derangere, makes his writer-slash-romantic-doo rmat Frederic seem like a new-generation, Nora Ephron-inspired sensitive hero. In Hollywood equivalence, [b]BON VOYAGE[/b] would star Greta Garbo and Tom Hanks.
Although there is a jarring disconnect in the performance styles, the film itself never waivers from its period roots. As World War II looms and German forces threaten to occupy France, Viviane and Frederic are fleeing Paris to Bordeaux, where the French government is convening in exile. Viviane finds security in the arms of Beaufort (Depardieu), a French minister who is trying to save his country while drooling all over the actress, and a Alex (Peter Coyote), a German spy posing as a journalist. Meanwhile, the disconsolate Frederic begins to fall for Camille (Ledoyen), an impassioned student who is trying to get her professor's politically important science experiments out of the country. [b]BON VOYAGE[/b] is not as maniacally joyful as this circuitous plot may sound; indeed, where it perhaps should be zany, it is merely convoluted.
The singular shining light of the ensemble, as she has been in so many films, is Isabelle Adjani, who leaves nothing to chance in her outsized portrayal of Viviane. Unable to stop acting on screen or off, Viviane is a compendium of self-contained manipulations. To get what she wants, she will either conform or confound the stereotypes of femininity to achieve her immediate goals; however, long-term goals (or thought) evades her in almost every instance, creating some delightful comic moments. Here is a woman who runs through three men in the course of ten minutes...to find a better hotel room. Ledoyen and Derangere both exude passion and verve, and Coyote proves to be significantly more versatile than previous roles might suggest. If there is a weak link, it is Depardieu, whose wide-eyed stare suggests that Beaufort is a novice in the worlds of love and politics...a novice that is rarely anything but agog.
Posh, stylish, and with very little going on in its head, [b]BON VOYAGE[/b] is neither as dizzying nor as entertaining as it could be. The nature and style of Rappeneau's classicism is at odds with its languid pace and divergent genre-hopping (romantic comedy becomes noir mystery becomes political drama). It is a tribute to the remarkable team behind the film, however, that it remains a very good time at the cinema.
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| GRANDE ECOLE (Famous School) |
| 03.05.04 (3:04 pm) [edit] |
GRANDE ECOLE
Cast: Gregori Baquet, Alice Taglioni, Jocelyn Quivrin, Elodie Navarre, and Salim Kechiouche
Directed by: Robert Salis
Written by: Jean-Marie Besset
Distributor: Pyramide (France 2004)
Rated: Not Rated
As Reviewed by: Gabriel Shanks
Director Robert Salis, whose major claim to fame is the acclaimed 1998 documentary [i]Vivre Nu[/i], explores similar territory in his first narrative feature, [b]GRAND ECOLE[/b]. [i]Vivre Nu[/i], in case you missed it, explored the social constructions of nudist camps; his latest film, part of [url=http://www.filmlinc.com]Lincoln Center's "Rendezvous With French Cinema"[/url] series this month before a U.S. release later this year, simply explores nude people.
All right, that's a bit facile...and untrue, insofar as that Salis clearly wants to also explore race, class, wealth, and sex. But the film does none of these subjects especially proud, often grazing their surfaces in lieu of a more complex analysis. What [b]GRAND ECOLE[/b] does excel in is the geography of the body, mapping and plotting that difficult period of sexual awakening somewhere between adolescence and adulthood. Spiraling through hetero, homo, and other machinations with all the soap-sudsy energy one could ask for, Salis is in his element...and it's regrettable that he didn't trust that to be enough.
Based on a stage play by Jean-Marie Besset, [b]GRAND ECOLE [/b]suffers from an acute case of logorrhea, packed with clunky, self-conscious, florid dialogue that draws far too much attention to itself. The irony, of course, is that the film's most moving passages are often soundless -- scenes of lovemaking and romantic entanglements that need no descriptors. The verbosity is really necessary to fill the film's social agenda out, an abrasive and incoherent mix of human rights violations and trite observations of class distinction. The P.O.V. of [b]GRAND ECOLE[/b] is not from the have-nots, but the haves...rich, white young adults who are attending one of France's elite training schools that groom its captains of industry. Even as they recognize the privilege of their wealth and race, they are by and large unwilling to significantly change the social structure. And why should they? It's as if Salis wants to apologize for his characters' aristocratic haughtiness by making them occasionally watch the equivalent of UNICEF commercials.
The drama comes -- as it always seems to in these European prep-school stories (think [i]Maurice[/i], think [i]Another Country[/i]) -- is homosexuality, discovered almost accidentally by Paul (Gregori Baquet) when he finds himself attracted both to his suave male roommate Louis-Arnault (Jocelyn Quivrin) and a middle-class Arab painter, Mecir (Salim Kechiouche). Paul has a savvy girlfriend, Agnes (Alice Taglioni), who sees the truth even before Paul does. Still, Agnes isn't ready to give up her man without a fight...even if that means sleeping with Louis-Arnault herself. Meanwhile, Paul takes some tentative steps out of the closet by going on a date with Mecir...but the repercussions of falling in love with someone so far below his station spell potential disaster for the two young men.
The promise of this complex, whirling sexual smorgasbord is never completely delivered upon, primarily because of Salis' no-frills approach to his themes. The metaphors are delivered with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer: the opening credits feature alternating images of fireworks and a couple having sex (get it?); the first classroom scene features a sea of white students and, peeking through the glass window (or ceiling), two black painters; the first verbal exchange between Mecir and Paul has the inevitable discussion of whether they should be seen together in public. What happens, in effect, is that [b]GRAND ECOLE[/b] sacrifices its sexual politics and polemics for its social ones...and they are much less intriguing. Watching rich, white socialites discovering that the world is bigger than them is, well, hardly revelatory...even when they're French.
What is revelatory, however, is the refreshing freedom given to the story's unique perspective on love and sex. The couples permutate endlessly in [b]GRAND ECOLE[/b], and it's fascinating to watch them. As Paul, Baquet captures perfectly the confusing attractions of a burgeoning gay man; a particularly painful sequence in the school's locker room, with the magnetic horror of naked bodies tormenting Paul, gives Baquet a wide palette of reactions. The film's portrayals of sex are rather workmanlike, but the actors are all beautiful and enthusiastic in tackling their roles in and out of the sheets. It's not as sophisticated as it could be, true. But it falls somewhere in a happy medium, dramatically speaking, between [i]Dangerous Liaisons[/i] and [i]Melrose Place[/i].
And all things considered, that's not entirely a bad place to be...even if Salis gets in his own way occasionally.
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| PAS SUR LA BOUCHE (Not On The Mouth) |
| 03.05.04 (2:58 pm) [edit] |
PAS SUR LA BOUCHE
Cast: Sabine Azema, Isabelle Nanty, Audrey Tautou, Pierre Arditi, and Jalil Laspert
Directed by: Alain Resnais
Written by: Andre Barde (Original Libretto)
Distributor: Pathe (France 2003)
Rated: Not Rated
As Reviewed by: Gabriel Shanks
The films of Alain Resnais are an acquired taste. Recognized as one of the great living masters, even his best films -- [i]Hiroshima Mon Amour[/i], [i]Last Year in Marienbad[/i], [i]Stavisky [/i]-- are sometimes considered impenetrable for the casual viewer, a fact that has kept him in relative obscurity where American moviegoers are considered. He has had popular success, however, with the musically sweet [i]Same Old Song[/i]. Why not go back to what works?
So if for no reason other than this, his latest film, the musical [b]PAS SUR LA BOUCHE[/b] ([i]Not on the Mouth[/i]), should be considered an achievement. The film is an adaptation of the 1925 operetta of the same name by Andre Barde and Maurice Yvain, and it is extraordinarily audience-friendly. The energetic performances, the luxurious setting, the sprightly music, the tongue-in-cheek charm...all the elements of Resnais' distinguished career come to bear upon what is quintessentially a popular entertainment. (The film recently won three Cesar Awards, further proof of its ability to enchant its viewers.)
That's the good news. The bad news is that [b]PAS SUR LA BOUCHE[/b], even as magically reimagined by Resnais, is still an operetta for the stage. The original source material was never intended for film, and it shows -- it lacks spontaneity and form, exposing its age with every forced character exit. While many will compare it to other musical films of recent years (including [i]8 Women[/i], [i]Chicago [/i]and [i]Moulin Rouge[/i]), [b]PAS SUR LA BOUCHE [/b]does not share their ability to hold the viewer's interest; it collapses under the weight of its own stagey theatricality. It is witty without being satisfying, charming but unengaging.
The focal point for all of [b]PAS SUR LA BOUCHE[/b]'s shenanigans is Gilberte Valandray (Sabine Azema), a wealthy trophy wife whose marriage to Georges (Pierre Arditi) is predicated on his ongoing belief that he is her first, and only, husband. She has kept from him that, in years past, she married an American named Eric Thomson (Lambert Wilson), and their separation in Chicago may or may not have been fully legalized in France. Georges does permit Gilberte a few harmless admirers, certain that he will not be cuckolded -- they include the neo-cubist ("coocoobist") Charley (Jalil Lespert), a passionate young man who has attracted the eye of Gilberte's friend Huguette (Audrey Tautou).
The recipe for these farcical operettas is well known, and it merely takes the suggestion of a business meeting between Husband #2 and the heretofore-undisclosed Husband #1 to send the entire household into a tizzy. As they spin and flail, they sing, of course. The songs are short, to the point, and for the most part astonishingly upbeat...it seems that sadder moments of any kind were banished from the creative meetings of [b]PAS SUR LA BOUCHE[/b].
Although Resnais does some remarkable things with effects and camera angles (for instance, all of the characters seem to vaporize into thin air the instant they leave Gilberte's salon), it ultimately is not enough to break free of the shackles of theatrical convention. The play's the thing, and in this case, that's very bad news for the movie. I'm sure that there will be great things in store for [b]PAS SUR LA BOUCHE[/b]; it's not a work one can really condemn because its desire to please is so evident and earnest. The worst one can say about it is that it promises more than it delivers...one wishes for the cinematic transformation that might have been possibly with this admittedly captivating material. I'm glad that the master Resnais has a potential hit on his hands. I just wish I could have liked it more.
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| NED KELLY |
| 03.02.04 (7:05 pm) [edit] |
NED KELLY
Cast: Heath Ledger, Orlando Bloom, Naomi Watts, Joel Edgerton, Rachel Griffiths, and Geoffrey Rush
Directed by: Gregor Jordan
Written by: John Michael McDonagh
Distributor: Focus Features (USA 2004)
Rated: R for violence and brief nudity
As Reviewed by: Gabriel Shanks
In Gregor Jordan's new drama [b]NED KELLY[/b], the rugged, scabrous landscape filling every inch of the screen is Australia...but that's merely scenery. The true locale of this moving but uneven film is on another continent altogether, in the rough-and-tumble world of classic Hollywood. In the genre known as The Western, to be specific -- chock full with handsome cowboy anti-heroes and villainously corrupt sheriffs, a cinematic land first inhabited and cultivated nearly two generations ago by Gary Cooper and Randolph Scott. The accents are different, and the fire-cooked stews are now made out of wombat instead of rabbit, but it's not difficult to imagine John Wayne riding up and sharing a night underneath [b]NED KELLY[/b]'s very Western stars.
Only in this case, the stars are Eastern, hemispherically speaking. As a fusion of genre picture and Aussie folk tale, [b]NED KELLY[/b] surely plays differently in its native land than it does here in the U.S., where the response to Kelly's Robin Hood-like exploits play out as a revisionist Jesse James. Australian in flavor but universal in appeal, Kelly is ripe for cinematic hagiography. There's an inherent charisma in outlaw heroes, whatever their country of origin, and Ned Kelly -- who robbed from the rich and gave to the poor, after the unlawful imprisonment of his mother and abuse of his family at the hands of local lawmen -- doesn't disappoint in the charisma department. Kelly is more than a man, more even than a mere hero; he is an archetype, a legend built by storytellers over time. As captured by director Jordan and screenwriters John Michael McDonagh and Robert Drewe (who also wrote the book upon which the movie is based), [b]NED KELLY[/b] is a dramatic tale of a good man done wrong. In that context, Kelly's insistence that such injustice not be taken lying down gives viewers a palpable sense of personal wish fulfillment, and uncontestable admiration for the film's subject.
Given the plusses that the outlaw tale brings to any cinematic work, it is possible that audiences will forgive [b]NED KELLY[/b] its occasional lapses into sentimentality and its inconsistently-paced narrative. It may also forgive its starry cast of Aussie newcomers, three of which -- Heath Ledger ([i]The Patriot[/i]), Naomi Watts ([i]The Ring[/i]), and Orlando Bloom ([i]Pirates of the Caribbean[/i]) -- have recently launched themselves upon the world stage in Hollywood-fueled performances. (A fourth, Joel Edgerton of the upcoming [i]King Arthur[/i], will I suspect soon join their company.) Despite their proven talents, all three suffer from miscasting: Ledger and Bloom lack the gravity needed to center the film, while Watts is too cerebral to play the two-dimensional love interest that comes part and parcel with the male-dominated Western genre. I'm certain that the trio's rising stars helped to cloud the fact that they weren't quite right for the roles, but as a finished product, [b]NED KELLY[/b] comes across as unnecessarily lightweight and ungrounded. All of the elements are there -- a spellbinding opening sequence, a wistful score by Klaus Badelt, gritty skyscapes and indelible images photographed beautifully by cinematographer Oliver Stapleton, and fiercely memorable supporting performances both dramatic and comedic by Geoffrey Rush (the former) and Rachel Griffiths (the latter, in perhaps the film's best moment). But where is that center, that focal point that all Westerns need to transcend their genre roots? [b]NED KELLY[/b] could have used The Duke after all.
The ace in [b]NED KELLY[/b]'s hole, of course, is Ned Kelly himself; despite the film's casting dilemmas, Ned's story keeps the viewer engaged and entertained. The elemental struggle -- the use of brutal violence versus the need to protect one's family -- balances on a steely knife-tipped edge in Jordan's retelling, reinforced over and over in sequences both literal and metaphoric. McDonagh and Drewe's screenplay goes to nearly absurd lengths to show that Kelly was a reluctant outlaw; his voiced-over guilt and endless self-critique receive more screen time that his acts of thievery and murder. As if to drive the point home, the 'coppers' -- as the sheriffs and deputies seem to be known in this Aussified Western -- are without fail desperate, craven little men. Only the South African-born police captain, Francis Hare (Rush), is allowed to have something approaching a conscience...and his only seems to be mildly impressed with Kelly's abilities as a thief, not as a moral person.
If Jordan, McDonagh and Drewe stack the deck emotionally in Kelly's favor, it is to their credit that they do not downplay the effects of his criminal behavior. Indeed, the film chronicles the many failures of Kelly's ill-conceived plans, exhibiting a narrative amorality that is reminiscent of other postmodern Westerns like [i]Unforgiven [/i]and [i]Tombstone[/i]. Kelly is undoubtedly a hero, the filmmakers seem to say, but he is also far from perfect...a complicated man in a complicated time. In a genre where the good guys and the bad guys can often be distinguished by the color of their hats, Ned Kelly is a most perfect Australian contribution to the field...a good guy who is also a bad guy -- who doesn't really want to be either.
[b]NED KELLY[/b] is never less than interesting, and often quite worth watching. It is, like its hero and the people from whence he came, a story of men that is both timeless and unique. A few imperfections aside, it is -- like all of Hollywood's great Westerns -- a voyeuristic visit to a place we've never been and to an era we've never seen, but one that we are uncannily certain we know very well. [b]NED KELLY[/b] could be each of us; that is the power of his tale and of his movie. It feels like our own lives reflected back to us through history and time...or through Australia via Hollywood.
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