Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (IMDB) (Netflix)
The idea that inspired this movie came from a French conceptual artist. Uh oh. Fortunately, it was turned into a screenplay by Charlie Kaufman (Adaptation, Being John Malcovich, Confessions of a Dangerous Mind), who, if not script-for-script the best screenwriter around, is easily the most inventive. Here, Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet are lovers who quickly learn how to hurt each other, irreparably it seems, and when Carrey tries to fix things, Winslet doesn't even remember him. In real life, we're cursed by poorly functioning Delete keys, particularly when it comes to failed romances, but in Kaufman's world you can do something about it and it might even be covered by your health insurance. Were it only so.
This is complex stuff and you're going to have to pay attention. We're moving back-and-forth in time, and between reality and Carrey's directed dream state, and it's a full thirty minutes before you'll think that you have a handle on this film. Once you do, don't let your guard down, because it's going to get more involved. The intricacies, however, don't get in the way of the emotional resonance that's created as Carrey tries to save the relationship, or at least his memory of it. With important supporting performances by Tom Wilkinson, Kirsten Dunst, Mark Ruffalo and Elijah Wood. For elastic minds.
Saturday, March 27, 2004
The Lady Killers (IMDB) (Netflix)
A remake of the 1955 Alec Guiness and Peter Sellers version, with re-writing and direction from the Coen brothers and a cast led by Tom Hanks as Professor G.H. Dorr, Ph.D. and minor criminal mastermind who's spent too much time with his Thesaurus. Irma P. Hall is the naive-yet-formidable lady who may or may not get killed. Hanks and his coterie of petty criminals use Hall's cellar as their base camp for robbing a riverfront casino, but because everyone is pretty much a first class screw-up, very little goes according to plan. Hence the funny.
Those who've seen the many trailers for the movie know that Hanks was given the green light to make his performance as colorful as he liked, and the other actors had equal license, with richly—if broadly—drawn comic characters. The plot couldn't be much simpler—it's sortof an anti-Ocean's Eleven—just enough to let the actors do their thing. The Coens aren't movie makers who work to impress anyone other than themselves, particularly the many critics who weren't bowled over, but the smallish audience in my theater was clearly entertained throughout, as was I. With rousing Gospel music that, like O Brother, Where Art Thou?, will spawn another successful soundtrack.
A remake of the 1955 Alec Guiness and Peter Sellers version, with re-writing and direction from the Coen brothers and a cast led by Tom Hanks as Professor G.H. Dorr, Ph.D. and minor criminal mastermind who's spent too much time with his Thesaurus. Irma P. Hall is the naive-yet-formidable lady who may or may not get killed. Hanks and his coterie of petty criminals use Hall's cellar as their base camp for robbing a riverfront casino, but because everyone is pretty much a first class screw-up, very little goes according to plan. Hence the funny.
Those who've seen the many trailers for the movie know that Hanks was given the green light to make his performance as colorful as he liked, and the other actors had equal license, with richly—if broadly—drawn comic characters. The plot couldn't be much simpler—it's sortof an anti-Ocean's Eleven—just enough to let the actors do their thing. The Coens aren't movie makers who work to impress anyone other than themselves, particularly the many critics who weren't bowled over, but the smallish audience in my theater was clearly entertained throughout, as was I. With rousing Gospel music that, like O Brother, Where Art Thou?, will spawn another successful soundtrack.
Sunday, March 14, 2004
Secret Window (IMDB) (Netflix)
I went for Johnny Depp, who is always fun to watch, and apparently so did the couple dozen young women that made up most of the audience. Hmmm, must reflect on that. A psychological thriller from Stephen King, with Depp as a writer licking his marital wounds after a painful breakup. A looney John Turturro shows up claiming that Depp has plagiarized one of his stories, and the confrontation gets increasingly out of control. With Maria Bello (The Cooler) as the estranged wife and Timothy Hutton as the guy she took up with.
This is one of those films that starts out promising; Depp talking to himself is more interesting than dialog between just about any two other actors, the camera angles are fresh without being showy, and even Turturro in a Southern accent isn't too jarring. Things get tedious, though, as Depp tries unsuccessfully to calm an ever-angrier and more brazen Turturro, then toward the end, as the big twist is revealed and the climactic scene unfolds, there's a sense of being cheated, or at least let down.
Depp took a big risk with the hugely successful Pirates of the Carribean ("we're going to make a movie based on a theme park ride, whaddya say?"), and might have placed too much faith in his ability to sell this one to the audience.
I went for Johnny Depp, who is always fun to watch, and apparently so did the couple dozen young women that made up most of the audience. Hmmm, must reflect on that. A psychological thriller from Stephen King, with Depp as a writer licking his marital wounds after a painful breakup. A looney John Turturro shows up claiming that Depp has plagiarized one of his stories, and the confrontation gets increasingly out of control. With Maria Bello (The Cooler) as the estranged wife and Timothy Hutton as the guy she took up with.
This is one of those films that starts out promising; Depp talking to himself is more interesting than dialog between just about any two other actors, the camera angles are fresh without being showy, and even Turturro in a Southern accent isn't too jarring. Things get tedious, though, as Depp tries unsuccessfully to calm an ever-angrier and more brazen Turturro, then toward the end, as the big twist is revealed and the climactic scene unfolds, there's a sense of being cheated, or at least let down.
Depp took a big risk with the hugely successful Pirates of the Carribean ("we're going to make a movie based on a theme park ride, whaddya say?"), and might have placed too much faith in his ability to sell this one to the audience.
Friday, March 12, 2004
Spartan (IMDB) (Netflix)
For those whose belief in the villainy of politicians and their handlers is rarely shaken, here's your film. The president's daughter is missing, and Val Kilmer is the just-tell-me-what-to-do operative who tries to find her. While this might seem like a straight-ahead mystery/thriller, this is a David Mamet production, and there's little that's typical here.
Unless you're a Mamet aficionado, of course. Except for Kilmer, casting came directly from Mamet's speed-dial, the dialog is clipped and hard-ass and direction is, well, spartan. The story is by no means predictable, unfolding tantalizingly slowly through the first act, and with an expository spareness that will generate lots of questions among the non-cognoscenti (choose your movie neighbors with care). Kilmer does a nice job of adapting to—or at least overcoming—Mamet's rhythms (not every actor has succeeded) and there's a minor chord of conspiratorial menace and John Carré-like futility that brings depth to the proceedings. To be sure, the plot has a couple of rough spots, and many will find the stripped-down style less absorbing than the usual explosion fest, but this film is for people who listen more closely to the voice that whispers.
For those whose belief in the villainy of politicians and their handlers is rarely shaken, here's your film. The president's daughter is missing, and Val Kilmer is the just-tell-me-what-to-do operative who tries to find her. While this might seem like a straight-ahead mystery/thriller, this is a David Mamet production, and there's little that's typical here.
Unless you're a Mamet aficionado, of course. Except for Kilmer, casting came directly from Mamet's speed-dial, the dialog is clipped and hard-ass and direction is, well, spartan. The story is by no means predictable, unfolding tantalizingly slowly through the first act, and with an expository spareness that will generate lots of questions among the non-cognoscenti (choose your movie neighbors with care). Kilmer does a nice job of adapting to—or at least overcoming—Mamet's rhythms (not every actor has succeeded) and there's a minor chord of conspiratorial menace and John Carré-like futility that brings depth to the proceedings. To be sure, the plot has a couple of rough spots, and many will find the stripped-down style less absorbing than the usual explosion fest, but this film is for people who listen more closely to the voice that whispers.
Wednesday, March 10, 2004
Hidalgo (IMDB) (Netflix)
Viggo Mortenson has a new horse to ride, as yet another post-Civil War soldier ravaged by guilt about the treatment of Native Americans, and therefore driven to drink (the Last Samurai had the same backstory for Tom Cruise). At this rate of expiation by cinema, Hollywood might make things right by, say, next month. OK, maybe not.
He finds some sense of purpose in a 3,000 mile race across the searing deserts of what now are Saudi Arabia, Iraq and Syria. Unfortunately the movie seems shot in real time, and that’s a lot of sand to cover. The story lacks pace, and most of its many beats (self-loathing, lack of identity, redemption, forbidden love and women’s lib are just few) are struck ham-handedly and with little impact. Nice surprises are Omar Sharif as the “sheik of sheiks” and father to the tomboy princess who just can’t keep that veil on, and the horse has a few nice “takes.” They go to that well far too often, however, and by the end even the horse seems like he’s mugging for the camera.
This will likely work for the 12 year olds in the house, or adults who want some regression therapy.
Viggo Mortenson has a new horse to ride, as yet another post-Civil War soldier ravaged by guilt about the treatment of Native Americans, and therefore driven to drink (the Last Samurai had the same backstory for Tom Cruise). At this rate of expiation by cinema, Hollywood might make things right by, say, next month. OK, maybe not.
He finds some sense of purpose in a 3,000 mile race across the searing deserts of what now are Saudi Arabia, Iraq and Syria. Unfortunately the movie seems shot in real time, and that’s a lot of sand to cover. The story lacks pace, and most of its many beats (self-loathing, lack of identity, redemption, forbidden love and women’s lib are just few) are struck ham-handedly and with little impact. Nice surprises are Omar Sharif as the “sheik of sheiks” and father to the tomboy princess who just can’t keep that veil on, and the horse has a few nice “takes.” They go to that well far too often, however, and by the end even the horse seems like he’s mugging for the camera.
This will likely work for the 12 year olds in the house, or adults who want some regression therapy.
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