MrsRainbow

I do not wait to eat the entire cake before I know if it is any good and that I enjoy it, do you? I don't stuff my face full of mouthfuls of dry, sawdust tasting frosting while I wait to see if there is a hidden treat in the midst of the baked mound. Do you? I like to enjoy what I do and what I watch while I am doing it and while I am watching it. Call me old fashioned.

Go is one of the most boring and shallow films I've ever seen. Perhaps a better word is hollow. I'm beginning to wonder if it's even possible for the Gen Y crowd to produce sincere art. Cynicism and irony, detachment, etc.. We're too self-aware and films like this in particular are just STRAINING to be cool. It's an Empire Records like aura, but with more coitus and flashing lights. I've never been accused of being a sycophant so I can call this film what it is: a weak, affected waste of time. If you don't know what affected means, look it up.

I enjoyed Trainspotting and I selectively enjoy Tarantino, so I have no qualms with the style or subject matter. But Go brings to mind a film called Swimming With Sharks, starring Kevin Spacey, about a Hollywood studio executive and the rampant cynicism pervading the movie industry. Go is the sort of film they talk about throwing out there "for the kiddies." It just strikes me as being so cynical. Perform an autopsy on this film and you'll find it has no organs. It's a waste of time, and in my view, an indictment of my peers that it's getting rave reviews.

The Mosquito Coast is an odd film. It attempts to talk about issues which are important and which few films address, fails to communicate them clearly, yet isn't sucked into the maelstrom of moralizing and sententiousness that films like this almost inevitably enter. Instead, it occupies some sort of odd middle ground of ambiguity and murkiness. One gets the feeling that the film is a lot like the Fox family: they know they're going upstream but they have no specific destination, and some of them really aren't sure why they're going there in the first place.

I felt from the very beginning that the film failed to define its ideals or set a sense of clear direction. Harrison Ford, in a performance which I found unconvincing (perhaps because of the inability of the film to articulate what motivated him), rambles on about everything from the Japanese to nuclear war. There's a large difference between subtlety, i.e. not spelling things out for the viewer, and incoherence. This was incoherent. We know that he's unhappy with America, but I don't know what he's really looking for, what motivates him, etc.. Maybe he doesn't know. But if that's the case, it should be made clear.

A good example of how this plays out is his attempt to bring ice to the "noble savages." Why does he do this? Because "ice is civilization." But why does he want to bring them civilization? It seemed to me that civilization was something he was having a lot of problems with. I assume that the novel explained this more clearly and the film failed to translate properly. He of course stated earlier in the film that the savages would probably think ice a sort of jewel. So? Why does this matter? Is he looking for lost innocence?

Then later in the film "Mother" says she wishes to go to Mr. Haddy's place. He responds "And live like savages?" I can only assume that he wishes to establish some sort of elementary civilization where a small community lives in peace and harmony. Or perhaps he's just looking to withdraw from everyone, as his spurning of Mr. Haddy's gifts would show. Also, a possible literary reference is the name of their craft, Victory, which is the name of a very dull Joseph Conrad novel about a man who withdraws from life and goes to live on an island. Extreme misanthropy? Unlikely.

A possible light at the end is his talk about man not being made to walk upright. Is he looking for some sort of return to primal existence? But then why invent air conditioning in Geronimo? It all adds up to a very disorganized mess, both in Mr. Fox's head, and on screen. The Mosquito Coast is like a puzzle that still has all the pieces, but rather than fit them together, Weir just threw them all in the box and let us look at them.