Reviews
The Man Who Cried (2000)
Grade: B-
Christina Ricci sings more than she speaks in the movie, but she manages to hold your attention nevertheless for a pretty solid hour and a half in this well-acted and profound, but uneven period piece. Sally Potter, who also directed the similarly problematic "Orlando", clearly has the visual and thematic talent to be a much better respected director than she is - she just needs to learn how to tell a story.
The first forty minutes of the film, which begins in the year 1927, are absolutely masterful. The sublime Claudia Lander-Duke plays young Fegele, an impoverished Russian-Jewish girl whose beloved father decides to journey to America in search of a better life. After that, Fegele and her family are set upon by unnamed bad guys (probably either Cossacks or Communists), and Fegele is separated from them. She ends up on an ocean liner bound for England, where her name is changed to Susan, she is adopted by an English family that doesn't understand her, and she is forced to begin the process of assimilation.
Flash forward ten years or so (Potter is regrettably and consistently unspecific about such things). Fegele (now Suzie and now played by Christina Ricci, she of the large, expressive eyes) wants to be a showgirl so she can earn money to go to America and find her father. She auditions and is accepted by a group based out of Paris. Once in Paris, she rooms and becomes tight with fellow showgirl Lola (Cate Blanchett), a somewhat vapid and materialistic creature with no ambition save that of landing a rich man - which she manages to do in the form of opera singer and Mussolini supporter Dante Dominio (John Turturro, in one of his better performances). Around the same time, Suzie meets and falls in love with Cesare (Johnny Depp), the leader of a band of gypsies.
Once all the dominoes are in place, Potter wastes no time in knocking them down. You can see trouble coming a mile away: Lola, Suzie's one confidant who is aware of her Jewish ancestry, begins falling under the emotional and political spell of anti-Semitic, gypsy-hating fascist Dante. Meanwhile, the Nazis have invaded Poland and, despite everyone's self-assured predictions that they'll stop there, the French border is neither geographically nor historically distant. Suddenly, it's a race against time for all involved, but especially for Suzie - will she stay behind with her gypsy king, or, given a choice, will she escape certain death? The problem with all of this is that it's all so familiar. Potter adds nothing to the old story. There are some wonderful messages in this film about multiculturalism, nationalism, and the sometimes subtle nature of fascism, but if you don't care about the story you're not going to be interested in listening to the messages. The gypsy subplot, for instance, seems tacked on, like it was an excuse to give Ricci a love interest and have him be played by Johnny Depp.
The really interesting plot line here involves Lola and Dante, and I would pay ten dollars to see a movie that was just about them. Both Blanchett and Turturro create real, flesh-and-blood human beings, and it's in their scenes that Potter's writing really soars. Watching Dante sink deeper and deeper into a political philosophy fueled by his own insecurity while the irrepressibly optimistic Lola tries to turn a blind eye to it all is a fascinating and marvelous experience.
Ricci gives a good performance too, although occasionally that Valley Girl tone she uses in most of the rest of her movies slips out a little too much here and there. Fortunately, Potter doesn't give the shy, quiet Suzie very much to say. Most of her acting is done with her eyes, and she's really quite good. Johnny Depp does what he can with Cesare, but there's only so much an actor can accomplish when playing a plot device.
Art direction, music, and cinematography were all top-drawer. As is par for the course with Sally Potter's films, it looked good and had some interesting things to say. I just wish it had been more compelling.
The Manchurian Candidate (2004)
Grade: B+
It is, of course, impossible to review a remake without comparing it to the original. With that in mind, I think it's safe to say that 2004's "The Manchurian Candidate" is as valuable a film for its era as 1962's film was for its own. It loses some points because its import is automatically going to be ignored by some because it's a remake of a classic. If the filmmakers wanted to explore these themes, they should have perhaps created an original story to frame their thesis - people might have taken it more seriously. Nonetheless, it's an interesting and chilling work of art.
Denzel Washington plays Colonel Ben Marco, who we first meet delivering a speech to a Boy Scout troop about his experiences in the first Gulf War, and how Congressman Raymond Shaw (Liev Schreiber, who deserves an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor) saved his platoon from an enemy attack. Marco, we soon discover, has been having mysterious dreams that say otherwise. Dreams of torture, medical experimentation, brainwashing, and murder. He is motivated to investigate the dream when he finds out from a former platoon mate (Jeffrey Wright) that he's not alone in wondering what really happened that night.
Meanwhile, Raymond Shaw has just been positioned as his party's reluctant nominee for Vice-President of the United States thanks to the machinations of his nightmarish mother (Meryl Streep, who will probably receive a nomination for Best Supporting Actress and, as she usually does when she's nominated, will probably deserve to win it), who is a US senator. Marco visits Shaw and tries to get Shaw's help in figuring out what happened, but Shaw is reluctant to get involved. he suspects Marco is insane. Little does he know, his mind is being controlled by the very same people Marco's been dreaming about.
Who these people are and why they're doing what they're doing - that's what's at the heart of the brilliance of this remake. In the first film, the bad guys were Red Chinese determined to get their hands on the White House, and Shaw and his mother use McCarthyesque accusations of treachery in order to get where they want to be. Very timely for 1962. In this movie, the bad guys are a multinational company called the Manchurian Corporation that wants to get their hands on the White House in order to approve the legalization of privacy-invading devices, and Shaw and his mother use terrorism as the great bugaboo necessary to scare the American people into giving up their freedom. Again, very timely.
Denzel Washington does some excellent work as Marco, putting a dark and vulnerable spin on his infamous air of integrity. Liev Schreiber really gives a phenomenal performance as the trim, nervous Shaw. There is a constant sense of vibration about his performance, as though he subconsciously knows he's being used and is silently fighting it with all his might. Meryl Streep is her usual self. She creates a political animal that, remarkably, manages to compete with Angela Lansbury's evil parallel performance in the 1962 film.
Go see this movie. It's important. Remakes in general are a bad idea, but this one was well worth a 42-year wait.
Consenting Adults (1992)
Grade: D
This truly bland exercise in studio suspense proves once and for all that you can put all the talent in the world together, but if the script doesn't work, you're wasting your time. It does have the advantage of Kevin Spacey chewing scenery four years before anyone knew who the devil he was (I'll pay five bucks for that any day), but even he seems somewhat uninspired.
Richard and Priscilla Parker (Kevin Kline and Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio) are yuppie musicians who live in suburbia somewhere in the South (Georgia? Virginia? North Carolina? It's never really made clear). They have a dull but fairly stable marriage and a musically skilled daughter who they pack off to boarding school mainly because they're too busy with their careers to deal with her. Into their dull lives come rockin' and rollin' Eddy Otis (Kevin Spacey) and his hot wife Kay (Rebecca Miller, looking like she took a Valium).
Eddy and Kay barge into Richard and Priscilla's lives with gusto. He's a "financial adviser" with an unhealthy appetite for risk-taking; she's a doormat with a beautiful singing voice. Eventually (in part because Eddy manages to eliminate their debt via an incredibly risky and immoral insurance scam), the couples become best friends. Richard begins to find himself attracted to Kay, and Eddy proposes that he and Richard do a one-night swap, claiming (ludicrously) that in the dead of night, with their wives half-asleep, no one will be the wiser. Richard, who is also something of a doormat without nearly the personality to stand up to the bullying, aggressive Eddy, agrees to the swap.
Long story short: Richard ends up framed for Kay's murder, Eddy swipes a willing Priscilla and their kid, and Richard has to prove his innocence to the police, an insurance investigator (Forest Whitaker), and most importantly his wife.
There is not a single likable character in the entire piece. That's what blows me away. Eddy is charismatic and he's supposed to be charming (and with Kevin Spacey in the role, he comes damn close). But he comes off as loud, obnoxious, and overbearing. I know guys like Eddy. I don't let them anywhere near my fiancée because I know they're going to hit on her, and I don't make them my friends because I know that they'll stick a knife in my back the moment it suits them. I suppose the fact that I recognize the guy is a testament to Spacey's acting, which is not surprising, but if we're supposed to believe that Richard fell for his nonsense, it's help if he were a little less of a jerk. Kevin Kline dozes his way through playing Richard as a spineless schmuck dealing with a midlife crisis which unfortunately just happens to involve Uzis and bloodied baseball bats. I've never seen him look so bored. Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio is a shrill, henpecking banshee as Priscilla. And Rebecca Miller is essentially playing a battered wife.
Y'know, I take it back. I don't just know guys like Eddy Otis, I think I actually know Eddy Otis. And his poor wife. I just hope they don't turn on me. If my life's going to be a movie, I'd much rather it be "Star Wars" or something.
Atlantic City (1980)
Grade: B
An unusual little film about the dark side of a dreamer's heart, "Atlantic City" feels about twenty years ahead of its time in some ways and completely average in others. Standout performances, terrific dialogue, beautiful cinematography - so what's not to like? The truth is, I'm just not sure. Something about it rang falsely to me. It may take a while to sort it out. Until then, here's the best I can do.
"Atlantic City" is the tale of Lou Pascal (Burt Lancaster), a small-time former Mafia hood. The Mafia was pushed out of Atlantic City by a "bad element" (read: black gangs) and ever since then, Lou's been running numbers for them and taking care of his old boss's moll, Grace (the marvelous Kate Reid).
Living next door to Lou is Sally Matthews (Susan Sarandon, in what is surely her best, most honest work), who works at an oyster bar, takes classes in dealing blackjack, and dreams of going to Monte Carlo to be a professional dealer. Her life is turned upside down when her husband Dave and sister Chrissie (Robert Joy & Hollis McLaren), who ran off together some seven months ago, turn up with Chrissie pregnant and Dave looking to get rid of a massive amount of cocaine he ripped off from some Eurotrash bad guys (one good example of an unbelievable element I disliked).
Lou has been watching Sally for some time and has developed something of a crush on her. When he helps Dave unload the cocaine and Dave turns up dead, Lou sees an opportunity to help Sally and gain her confidence - and maybe more.
Burt Lancaster invests Lou with more pathos than I've seen him deliver to any other role. There's something almost Method about his work here - he's completely believable, especially near the end, when Lou begins to really confront his failures and deal with them. His moment of catharsis is chilling in the way he revels in its joy. I don't want to give too much away, so I'll just let you watch it and see what I mean. Susan Sarandon is large-eyed and wistful without making you want to slap her. She invests enough naivete in Sally to make her real without making her a caricature.
Ultimately, the movie has something to do with how the past is simultaneously healing and murderous, a creature to fear and to cautiously welcome into your heart. It's also about dreams, and where your past and your potential future intersect and why. In both those themes, it has some similarities to Paul Thomas Anderson's work, particularly his "Hard Eight", another movie about an old player taking a younger person under his wing.
On the whole, it doesn't work as well as Louis malle probably intended, perhaps because of the Eurotrash bad guys, or perhaps because of the bizarre, all-too-Hollywood turn the movie takes a little over an hour in. Nonetheless, it's a worthy and fascinating little piece of work.
Chattahoochee (1989)
Grade: C
My, that Gary Oldman surely does love to act, doesn't he? Why, he gets up there on that screen and just acts and acts and acts and acts his fanny off - the problem is that acting should be like magic. We shouldn't know we've seen it until we're already in awe. Mr. Oldman is either magic personified, or he's the most hamfisted hack in Hollywood - there is rarely any middle ground for him. In this movie, it's the insecure hack. I really wish it had been the other guy.
Oldman plays Emmett Foley, a Korean War vet who one day pretty much loses his marbles and decides to commit suicide by cop. He walks outside his house and begins shooting indiscriminately, winging his annoying neighbor in the process. Foley then tries to kill himself when the cops fail to do it for him, but he fails and is committed to the state mental hospital. Foley's reasons for being suicidal are fairly unclear, although if I had his wife (Frances McDormand - who'd have known she'd be so good at playing a dimwitted twit?) I might kill myself too.
When Foley arrives at the mental hospital, he finds himself in a hell on earth straight out of Dante. Orderlies routinely beat Foley's criminally insane fellow inmates. What little they're given to eat is unhealthy, and they work eighteen hour days digging ditches or trenches in unsafe conditions. Foley shrugs it off and tries to play along - he even makes a few friends, like his roommate Walker (Dennis Hopper, seemingly competing with Oldman for "Most Clichéd and Over-the-Top Portrayal of Insanity"). But he can't hack it any further after the orderlies beat one of Foley's crazy new friends to death. Thus the "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" portion of the film ends and the "Brubaker" portion begins, with Foley writing letter after letter to inmates' families and government officials, only to be ignored and warned off every time. In the end, Foley stages one last, desperate protest with the help of his sister (Pamela Reed, who quietly gives the best performance in the film). Will Foley successfully reform the entire mental health system in the state of Florida? Or will he languish in captivity for the rest of his life, a great if troubled spirit crushed by the boot of bureaucracy? If you don't know the answer to this question, then you don't know Hollywood very well.
This is an independent film. Independent films are supposed to buck trends. This one plays into every cliché you've ever heard of - it's the perfect studio film. Replace Gary Oldman with Jim Carrey and you've got a major blockbuster.
It was not, however, a complete waste of time. There is one scene, a little over an hour into the film, between Foley and his wife in which Oldman and McDormand both do some of the finest acting of their careers, McDormand especially. Art direction and production design in general were both simply stellar as well - really felt like the fifties.
If the whole movie had been as solid as the above two elements, this would have been an excellent film. As it stands, it's a good lesson for independent filmmakers: be independent in thought as well as finance. That's where the name truly comes from.
Before Night Falls (2000)
Grade: A-
Javier Bardem gives a quietly powerful performance in this, the life story of Cuban novelist, poet, and exile Reinaldo Arenas, who died of AIDS in New York in 1990.
Arenas was born, like most Cubans, in abject poverty in 1943. He lived with his grandparents until Castro's revolution came (the cinematography in this section of the film is particularly breathtaking); then he went off to fight with the rebels. With Castro in power, Arenas grows up to become a novelist and poet. He publishes his first novel and becomes something of a young author on the rise.
And then Castro starts cracking down on homosexuality.
A little-known fact about Castro's government is his complete lack of tolerance for homosexuality. Concentration camps are set up on distant parts of the island, and Arenas finds that his friends are disappearing, being swept off of the streets or beaches by Castro's secret police. Arenas himself is being watched. He manages to write another novel and have it smuggled out to be published in foreign countries, and is jailed for his efforts. In prison, Arenas continues to write and to see that his work is delivered to people that can publish it. No matter what Castro's people do to him, no matter how they treat him, no matter what threats they make, there are two things about Arenas that remain constant: his art and his sexuality.
When Arenas is released from prison, he desperately wants to escape Cuba so he can write and live in whatever way he chooses. The last part of the film is primarily concerned with Arenas' escape attempts. It's no secret that Arenas got away; he died in New York City, not in Havana. It's what his life becomes after his escape that's supposed to be interesting.
You can rack up another name on the list of people who got screwed at the Oscars by the hopelessly mediocre, bizarrely beloved "Gladiator" in 2000. Javier Bardem's performance in this film was easily and without doubt the best of the year. He holds the audience's attention with such grace and he makes it look so easy - it's the kind of performance that should be burned into the minds of everyone who loves film.
If you look closely, you'll catch an unrecognizable Sean Penn in a blink-and-you-miss-him cameo that actually ranks among his most unusual screen moments. Johnny Depp also puts in a brief appearance, as a drag queen in prison and, in an exceptional one-on-one scene with Bardem, as the prison's sadistic warden.
Bardem's performance is supported by well-captured images of Castro's Cuba. The cinematography stands out here almost as much as Bardem's performance does. Director Julian Schnabel keeps the action compelling, moving things along at the pace you'd expect from a biopic - until the last twenty minutes or so of the film, when he inexplicably slows the pace to a crawl. Once Arenas leaves Cuba, all the momentum of the movie seems to just stop. Even Bardem, so fascinating for almost two hours, nearly becomes uninteresting in the last part of the movie.
It's a small price to pay for two hours of excellence, however.
Finding Neverland (2004)
Grade: A-
A touching, gentle, surprising piece of work from Marc Forster, whose "Monster's Ball" was such a brutally heartwrenching film. Forster continues to enhance his reputation as one of the best directors working in Hollywood today, just as Johnny Depp continues to enhance his reputation as possibly the best actor working in Hollywood today.
Depp plays J.M. Barrie, playwright and author, living in London in 1903. He's trapped in a marriage that, if not loveless, is certainly lacking the spark that Forster's subtle hand hints might once have been there. His most recent play, a pretentious and wordy piece called "Little Mary", has bored both critics and audiences alike out of their minds. His producer (Dustin Hoffman) is beginning to lose faith in him. All in all, he's definitely in a rut when he goes out to take his dog for a walk in the park one day.
While out, he meets the Llewellyn-Davies family, consisting of mother Sylvia (Kate Winslet, giving an earthy, very real performance), and children George, Jack, Peter, and Michael. All the boys have unusually good imaginations - except for Peter, played by child phenom Freddie Highmore. He is a wounded and frightened soul badly traumatized by his father's death from cancer of the jaw, and Barrie immediately latches onto the boy, encouraging him to write and to use his imagination.
Barrie becomes a surrogate father figure for the boys, much to the consternation of their grandmother (the appropriately stiff Julie Christie). He also becomes something entirely different to Sylvia, and it's debatable just what their relationship was. I think that Forster dropped some very subtle hints via judicious cutting that it was sexual in nature at least at some point. My girlfriend, who I saw it with, disagrees. In any case, Barrie and Sylvia become close as well.
Barrie is inspired enough by the boys to write his play "Peter Pan", which became the basis for the book - and I don't need to tell you where it went from there. Sylvia, meanwhile is deathly ill with an ailment she refuses to see a doctor for (probably tuberculosis), insisting on burying her head in the sand. Barrie's ultimate task is to help these boys, who he had hoped would never grow up, into adulthood so they can help their mother through her illness.
The best thing about the movie, a quality it shares with another really wonderful film about a blocked writer called "Shakespeare in Love", is its sense of creative magic. Watching Barrie's play develop as his relationship with this family develops and deepens is a beautiful experience. And the inevitable end result of this relationship, this opening of hearts, is difficult to watch without shedding a tear or two.
Another invaluable asset to the film was Freddie Highmore, who gives the best juvenile performance since young Mr. Osment walked onto our movie screens. He manages to be preternaturally cold for such a little boy, but manages to cave in emotionally when the time comes. The release of his pent-up fears, doubts, and resentments is a powerful rage that it's somewhat awe-inspiring to see expressed in one so young. Freddie will doubtless be rewarded for his efforts with an Oscar nomination.
A fine, fine film. Not the best of the year perhaps, but a very strong piece of work. Bravo, Messrs. Forster, Depp, and Highmore.
Ocean's Twelve (2004)
Grade: C
No one's ever going to accuse "Ocean's Eleven" of aspiring to greatness - that's what made it great. It was mild-mannered, lighthearted fun with great performances, a fun soundtrack, and one hell of a heist. In other words, it worked because no one tried too hard to make it work. "Ocean's Twelve" sadly, seems to be the opposite: a bunch of storytellers working too hard to make something look effortless.
I keep reading all these interviews with the stars of "Ocean's Twelve" who talk about what a great time they had making the movie. It definitely looks that way. They're funny and charming - I mean, c'mon, it's Brad Pitt, George Clooney, Julia Roberts, and Catherine Zeta-Jones. These people BLEED charm. To say nothing of Matt Damon, Bernie Mac and Elliot Gould (who actually invented charm sometime before the birth of Christ). But all the charm in the world, all the winking and giggling and joking and fun you can possibly have isn't going to make up for a crappy script. Which is really what "Ocean's Twelve" is.
So basically the guy that Danny Ocean's gang ripped off last time, Terry Benedict (Andy Garcia, with little to do but fume) has tracked them all down and demanded they get him his money back or he'll have them all killed. Ocean (George Clooney) and partner in crime Rusty Ryan (Brad Pitt) get everyone back together to go pull a heist in Europe to pay what they owe, plus interest.
The plan, at first, is to rip off an antique collector of the first-ever stock certificate. The plan goes perfectly until they get there and find that another thief, the legendary Night Fox, has gotten there ahead of them. The Night Fox leaves a note in its place challenging Ocean to a thieves' duel of sorts. If Ocean's gang wins, the Night Fox will pay their debt to Benedict. If the Night Fox wins, Ocean's gang dies.
Ocean, with little choice, accepts. Meanwhile, Isabel Lahiri of Interpol (Catherine Zeta-Jones), a former lover of Rusty's and the current pursuer of the Night Fox, catches wind of the contest and resolves to catch everyone in the same net. Let the confusion begin.
The brilliance of the twist in the first film was what made it great. It was genuinely unexpected, at least to me. All the fun stuff that came before that was icing - the twist was the cake. Here, there's plenty of icing, but no cake. There's a twist of course, one you see coming a mile away. It's not the same. It's like a one-night stand that was really terrific, but you try it again, and it's just not clicking.
There was, however, an inspired bit involving Danny's wife Tess (Julia Roberts) and the part she ends up having to play in the proceedings. It's very amusing and very charming. Completely unbelievable, but it gets you a bearable twenty minutes closer to the end of the movie.
Don't bother with it. It'll just make you wish for what might have been.
The Aviator (2004)
Grade: B+
Leonardo DiCaprio IS Howard Hughes in the piece that should finally win Martin Scorsese that elusive Best Director Oscar.
Hughes biopics have been floating around Hollywood for decades. And no wonder - the story of Howard Hughes is an excellent example of the American dream being followed through to its conclusion. Tremendous, unprecedented power, fame, success, and wealth, followed by a massive, nearly unprecedented crash-and-burn. What could be more quintessentially American? Of course directors and producers have been scrambling all over each other to be the first to put a summation of Hughes' life on screen. A competing project starring Jim Carrey and directed by Christopher Nolan has been rumored for some time, in fact. But Scorsese got his out first, and I can't imagine that Nolan's film could possibly be any better.
For the uninitiated, Howard Hughes was one of the great eccentric geniuses of this century. He was a film producer and director, an engineer, a pilot, a hotelier, and a crazy, crazy man. He ended his life in the suite of his Las Vegas hotel, which he hadn't left in twenty years. By that time, he was receiving daily blood transfusions from Mormons, who he believed were the only clean people in the world. He was no longer trimming his fingernails or cutting his hair or beard. He wore tissue boxes on his feet, and a surgical mask at almost all times. Terrified of germs, Hughes barricaded himself in his hotel and died there alone, sad, and insane. This would seem to me to be the most interesting part of Hughes' life to film - watching his madness devour him alive.
But no - Scorsese made the choice of allowing us to see Hughes in his younger, more vibrant days, and allowing us to watch the madness creep up on him instead.
The film opens as Hughes is filming "Hell's Angels", now nearly universally lauded as a masterpiece. He's throwing money at it hand over fist, but it's a passion, so he doesn't care. Genius or insanity?That's what Scorsese and DiCaprio bring across more than anything else here - the line between the two is so thin, it can be invisible in some cases. It certainly was with Hughes.
Eventually, Hughes gets into the airline business, founding TWA. He gets into a streetfight with PanAm, in the person of PanAm president Juan Trippe (Alec Baldwin, enjoying being the bad guy) over who has the right to global flights. In between all the corporate and political intrigue, Hughes finds the time to fall madly in love with fellow outsider Katharine Hepburn (Cate Blanchett), and to dally with Ava Gardner (Kate Beckinsale). All along, Hughes struggles with his obsessive-compulsive tendencies, his most heroic moment coming when he overcomes his agoraphobia in order to testify before Congress (represented in the person of Senator Ralph Owen Brewster, a snarky Alan Alda) and save his company.
Leonardo DiCaprio is the true savior of this movie, and Scorsese deserves credit just for getting out of his way. This is DiCaprio's chance to grow up as an actor, and he takes it and runs with it. It's difficult for a star of his caliber to be anything but Leo on screen, but he succeeds more than admirably in making you see Hughes instead of the movie star. He even comes to actually physically resemble the fortyish Hughes, a remarkable feat for a babyfaced thirty year old. It's a terrific performance, and one that should garnish Leo an Oscar nomination.
Also notable is Cate Blanchett's Katharine Hepburn - her performance is jarring at first, seemingly over-the-top, but once you settle in and realize that that's really how Hepburn WAS, it becomes fascinating. Her relationship with Hughes is heartbreaking. It's a case of two Hollywood outsiders who can't get past each other's eccentricities - a great romance cut short by neurosis. To me, the segment of the movie that examines their relationship is the best part of the film.
Overall, it's a slick and good-looking film, which is almost enough to get you past its shallowness. But DiCaprio and Blanchett are both wonderful.
Confessions of a Dangerous Mind (2002)
Grade:B-
So did "The Gong Show" host Chuck Barris lead a double life as a CIA assassin or didn't he? That's the question that became bigger than the movie itself when it was released a few years ago, and anyone who watches it hoping to have the question answered is in for a bitter surprise. The answer isn't made readily apparent, although I think director George Clooney has an opinion; you just need to watch carefully to catch it. Putting said question aside, this is a highly entertaining if somewhat shallow exercise in biography.
Sam Rockwell brings completely bizarre life to Chuck Barris, who grew up a pathetic, insecure misfit obsessed with sex. Barris determines that the best way for him to get laid is to become a television producer, so he quickly develops an idea for a game show called "The Dating Game" and pitches it to ABC, who rejects it. Barris is despondent when he's approached by the mysterious Jim Byrd (George Clooney), who offers him work as a CIA assassin. Chuck takes him up on it and suddenly finds himself somewhat unbelievably thrust into the world of international intrigue.
As he tries to balance his day job killing potential threats to the United States and his passion for developing terrible, terrible game shows, he also tries to work in a relationship with his on-again, off-again lover Penny (Drew Barrymore, giving an unusually grown-up performance), a hippie who talks almost entirely in clichés from whatever era they happen to be in.
Eventually, "The Dating Game" gets picked up. Right around the same time, a mole in the CIA starts killing off undercover agents like Chuck, and he has to stay alive, clear his own name of the murders, and keep his shows on the air.
Like I said, it's all pretty shallow, but fun as long as it stays unpretentious. Particularly enjoyable are the performances. George Clooney and Julia Roberts both give what are, to me anyway, the most interesting and unusual performances of their careers. Rutger Hauer is a standout for the brief time he's on screen. Drew Barrymore does far more than I could have thought possible with her surprisingly generic role, finally proving herself as an adult actress. And Sam Rockwell blows just about everyone else off of the screen. There were far bigger names, like Mike Myers, Johnny Depp, Ben Stiller, and Edward Norton, who wanted this role and I can't imagine any of them doing it as well as Rockwell. Well, maybe Johnny Depp.
The weakness is in the script. Charlie Kaufman wrote it, and he's normally quite wonderful and thoroughly unpretentious, but somehow this time he managed to write a rather self-important film, especially toward the end when it attempts to deal with the truth of Barris's claims. About fifteen minutes before the ending, the whole thing kind of falls apart. Kind of a shame, because the rest of the movie is very, very entertaining.
If you like unique films, go ahead and rent this. But don't expect a whole lot by way of insight. That's not what this film is meant to be.
Reckless Indifference (2000)
Grade: B
This is a visually generic documentary - it could almost pass for a high school film project in that regard. But the subject matter is quite compelling, especially for a resident of the Los Angeles area.
It's the story of a murder investigation that took place in the Agoura Hills section of Los Angeles County, about fifty miles north of the city proper, a relatively upscale and crime-free neighborhood. Jimmy Farris and Mike McLoren were selling marijuana out of what even the teenagers called a "fort" in their backyard when they were accosted by the Holland brothers (Jason and Micah), Tony Miliotti, and Brandon Hein. What happened next is disputed. What just about everyone can agree on is that Jason Holland stabbed both McLoren and Farris with a pocketknife. McLoren was wounded and Farris died on the scene.
All four of the participants in the brawl were sentenced to life in prison, even though by the lone prosecution eyewitness McLoren's admittance, Miliotti and Hein mostly stood around watching. They, however, were prosecuted under a new law that made gang members responsible for one another's behavior. So one of the two central questions of the movie is based on that assumption: was this a gang killing?
The second question is whether these boys got a fair trial. The deceased's father, you see, was an LAPD officer, and the families of the accused felt that their sons got unduly railroaded because of it. In addition, the district attorney's office had just lost the OJ case, had failed to nail Michael Jackson, had just seen Erik Menendez nearly walk away because of a mistrial. They had something to prove. And justice may (or may not) have been thrown out the window in the process.
It's a provocative film that, at the very least, documents a police force, DA's office, and community in crisis. It underachieves technically, but don't let the crudeness fool you; the ideas here are solid. Definitely worth a look.
The Fog of War: Eleven Lessons from the Life of Robert S. McNamara (2003)
Grade: B
An elegant, at times heartbreaking biographical documentary that is, on its surface, about former Secretary of Defense Robert Strange McNamara. In reality, it is a compelling retelling of fifty years of Cold War politics and strategy as seen through the eyes of one of that era's most controversial figures.
Director Errol Morris has allowed McNamara to tell his own story for the most part, and that's what makes it all so compelling. As assistant to then-Colonel Curtis LeMay during World War II, McNamara orchestrated the firebombing of Tokyo that killed 100,000 Japanese civilians in one night. Later on, he served as President of the Ford Motor Company, and practically pulled the company out of fiscal failure singlehandedly. His greatest public profile came as Secretary of Defense for Presidents Kennedy and Johnson, where he oversaw the handling of the Cuban Missile Crisis and, most infamously, the Vietnam War.
The film is at its most effective when McNamara is caught off guard by the overwhelming emotion of his memories. It's rare, but when it occurs, it's a truly fascinating sight. It's clear to the viewer that McNamara harbors a tremendous amount of guilt over some of his actions, particularly the Tokyo firebombing and the escalation of the war in Vietnam - no matter how much he wishes that it wasn't. McNamara tells his stories matter-of-factly, almost drily, until confronted by Morris with a personal query about his own responsibility. Then he jukes and jives and tap dances his way around this huge elephant in the room. He tears up as he simultaneously takes and denies responsibility for his actions. "Good can sometimes only be accomplished through evil means," he says at one point. But even he doesn't seem to believe it.
The most effective moment in the piece may be when he talks about Kennedy's assassination. He was very close to Kennedy, and his assassination represents something very tangible and personal to McNamara; he expresses the opinion several times that had Kennedy survived, the Vietnam War never would have happened. Given how McNamara's name and legacy are tied so closely to that most absurd of wars, one can understand how the thought of it never happening could inspire profound sadness. When McNamara talks about how he personally picked out Kennedy's burial site at Arlington, it's as though you're watching his dreams die along with everyone else's.
A great documentary - certainly the best of last year. It would have benefited from some interviews besides McNamara's. I understand Morris's decision to let it be McNamara's story from his point of view, but from an audience perspective, McNamara's not the most dynamic or charismatic of men. Nonetheless, insightful stuff.
Rent it.
A Shock to the System (1990)
Grade: B+
A scathing, skillfully made indictment of the go-go '80s. What impressed me most about this movie is how trim it is. It clocks in at a swift 93 minutes, and the time goes by very quickly. I was shocked when I realized that the climax was approaching.
This is a movie that's very heavy on symbolism, but it's not the kind of symbolism that hits you over the head. Cigars, lighters, magic, electrical appliances, homelessness, vehicles - all of these things take on symbolic significance in the film, but it's not anything you think about until the movie's over. In an era where directors treat audiences like stupid sheep, hence turning the audiences into said animals, it's nice to see a movie that's more of a throwback.
Michael Caine plays Graham Marshall, an upper level executive at the Gibb Corporation. Interestingly, we are never told exactly what Gibb DOES, only that Graham is in the marketing department. Graham is expecting a promotion to head of the department, as is his shrewish, greedy wife (Swoosie Kurtz). Graham is passed over for an obnoxious, younger, well-coiffed schmuck (Peter Riegert), who immediately goes about making Graham as obsolete as possible in order to eliminate some of the competition. After being passed over, and after an unfortunate incident involving the more-or-less accidental subway murder of a beggarly vagrant, Graham begins to come just a tad unglued.
He starts by calmly killing his wife. Envigorated by her death, he moves out of their country home, buys an apartment in the city, and initiates an affair with a co-worker (Elizabeth McGovern). Graham is still unsatisfied, however, and decides to kill his boss, using his new girlfriend as a cover. The plan works to perfection until a cop (Will Patton, with stunningly bad hair) starts sniffing around. Then Graham needs to deviate from the plan.
What's so great about this movie is the ending. The way that Graham digs himself out of trouble is so simple that some would almost call it unbelievable, and that would be a valid opinion. Another opinion (the one I happen to hold) is that it's poetic and stark and perfectly in line with the number one rule of satire: make them laugh, then make them realize that it's really not funny at all.
Michael Caine, one of our finest actors, picks this movie up and carries it on his back. It all hinges on his performance, which is wonderful. Over the course of an hour and a half, he goes from a meek, henpecked marketing executive to a sleek, dangerous, carnivorous Wall Street animal - it's something of an ancestor to Christian Bale's work in "American Psycho". The supporting cast is just that - supportive. They all acquit themselves nicely, but it's Caine's picture.
Rent this one. Very much worth the four bucks.
Thirteen (2003)
Grade: B
An immensely frustrating experience as an audience member. Catherine Hardwicke is one hell of a talented director, someone who I'll be keeping a very close eye on in the future. And Nikki Reed has written a pretty great script for a teenager - but therein lies the central problem with the movie. It is a powerful expose of the secret lives of teenagers, but the other half of the movie is, out of necessity, spent examining the inner lives of adults. And that's clearly something that Ms. Reed didn't understand when she wrote the screenplay. And how could she? She's a kid.
The electrifying Evan Rachel Wood plays Tracy Freeland, a 13-year old girl living in the vast, shallow wastelands of 21st century Los Angeles. She spends her time hanging out with her nice, ordinary friends, keeping up with her schoolwork, and writing poetry that indicates that there's a special mind at work. Like a lot of kids, she has a very close relationship with her daffy, irresponsible white trash mother Melanie (Holly Hunter, who rightfully received an Oscar nomination), and virtually no relationship with her deadbeat, jackass father. All in all, she's a typical if extraordinarily bright kid. Sure, she lifts an occasional cigarette from her mom, but with the complex home life she's got, who can blame her?
Then she meets Evie (the aforementioned Nikki Reed, who is a far more mature actress than writer), the baddest, most popular girl in school. Evie smokes like a chimney, dresses and acts like a whore, smokes pot and drops acid, manipulates adults with the charm of a professional grifter, and generally behaves like a character out of Larry Clark's "Kids". Tracy, desperate to be popular, works her way into Evie's friendship, and Evie introduces Tracy to all the pitfalls of adolescence. Soon, Tracy is giving Evie a run for her money in the excess department, and Evie has more or less moved in with Tracy and her family. Melanie struggles to be the cool mom while keeping her daughter safe, and Evie has her pretty much cowed.
Both women (Tracy and Melanie) have to break free of Evie's spell and find a way to live with one another despite the minefield of old family wounds between them. It all leads up to a confrontation between the three that would be devastating if it weren't so melodramatic. About three-quarters of the way through, the movie becomes a rehash (so to speak) of "Reefer Madness", and it becomes very hard to take the plight of these poor women seriously.
This is Tracy's story, but it's also Melanie's. Tracy's end of the story is terrifying - really well-written. It doesn't hurt that Evan Rachel Wood gives an absolutely revelatory performance, among the best I've ever seen out of a young actor. It certainly doesn't make me look forward to having teenagers. Melanie's end is - well, it's confusing. It often seems as though Ms. Reed plugged clichés about clueless parents of teenagers in because she didn't know what else to do. Which is probably the case. Holly Hunter really brings a third dimension to it, though, and ultimately it's her performance that saves Melanie's side of the story from being completely unbelievable.
Worth renting for the performances and Ms. Hardwicke's direction. A lot of big talents are revealed here - Ms. Wood, Ms. Hardwicke, and even Ms. Reed, who wrote a filmable, if somewhat mediocre, screenplay at 14. Check them out.
A Prayer for the Dying (1987)
Grade: C-
A bizarre, rather disappointing choice for nearly all involved. The film is essentially an action movie, although it certainly makes an effort to rise above its lowly fate as such and make a statement about the ability to forgive others, and ultimately to forgive yourself. Mike Hodges' biggest mistake is not letting the film be what it was meant to be, a thriller.
It begins with Irish Republican Army operatives Martin Fallon (Mickey Rourke) and Liam Docherty (a game Liam Neeson) overseeing the bombing of an English army transport truck. The bombing goes awry, however, and a schoolbus carrying a handful of children is detonated instead. In the ensuing chaos, Martin and Liam are separated. Guilt-stricken, Martin goes on the run. Liam is sent by his IRA superiors to find Martin and either bring him back or kill him.
Martin wants to drop out of the terrorist business and go to America. In order to get the papers he needs from creepy crime boss/undertaker Jack Meehan (Alan Bates), he agrees to one last job, the assassination of a rival gang leader. Martin goes to a cemetery to do the job, but is witnessed by Father Da Costa (Bob Hoskins). In order to prevent the priest from identifying him to the police, Martin confesses his crime to Da Costa.
And that's when things get complicated. Meehan wants Martin to off the priest, but Martin says he's done killing. Da Costa is uncomfortable with keeping Martin's secret, but as a Catholic priest he has no choice. And Liam is closing in on Martin every day.
There are moments of genuine pathos, mostly thanks to Mickey Rourke, who does his absolute best with the material at hand. The more I see of him, the more I'm reminded of what Marlon Brando was like in his youth. Aside from a significant facial and physical resemblance, they share a vulnerability on screen that's very unusual. For the most part, however, this is silly stuff, especially Fallon's romance with Da Costa's blind niece (a godawful Sammi Davis). That was just unnecessary.
I should probably mention that Alan Bates makes a pretty terrific villain, and he's almost worth the price of a rental all by himself. Not quite, but almost. There's also some fine cinematography. The score got on my nerves though; in fact, you could say the score is a perfect metaphor for the film. It weaved from mournful, evocative Irish folk music to typical action-adventure crap, often within heartbeats of one another.
Overall, an uneven, occasionally dull effort. Huzzah for Alan Bates for keeping it interesting though.
Strangers on a Train (1951)
Grade: B+
An altogether average Hitchcock movie (which, admittedly, makes it better than almost any thriller made nowadays), notable for two reasons.
First, there's Robert Walker's subtle, brilliant performance as Bruno Anthony. This was a stylistically very different performance from what audiences were used to seeing in the early fifties. It was less stagey, more fluid. Even the way he walked was quiet and smooth. What's even more fascinating is Walker's choice to make Bruno a not-so-closeted homosexual with a sexual obsession with Guy Haines, played by the very dull Farley Granger. Bruno's stalking of Guy isn't about murder; it's about sex. Walker telegraphs this with body language and facial expressions, because the Hays Code never would have allowed such a concept to be put to screen at the time, and the result is a marvelous sort of chemistry to the relationship between the two men.
The second reason to rent it is the final sequence on the carousel, which is pure Hitchcock. Bruno and Guy pummeling one another, a child in jeopardy, a carnival ride spinning out of control, shouts of joy turning to terrified shrieks. The shots of the carousel horses' faces, mouths ghoulishly leering open, madness in their eyes, are particularly effective here. And never have I seen the outcome of a non-sports related film depend so much on the outcome of a sporting event.
A really great movie. Not the best of Hitch's career, but certainly worth your time.
Cold Mountain (2003)
Grade: C+
I've now seen three of Anthony Minghella's films. "The English Patient" is among the least interesting ways I've ever spent three hours of my life, and I wish dearly I could have them back. "The Talented Mr. Ripley" was on the other end of the spectrum, an immensely enjoyable experience. "Cold Mountain" falls quite squarely in the middle.
From what I can tell, Mr. Minghella is at his worst when he's making Oscar bait. "The English Patient" was blatant Oscar bait, as is this movie. Fortunately, the supporting performances pull the film through. Minghella and Miramax owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to Renee Zellweger, who gives a titanic, loving, and joyful performance that pretty much saves the movie. Almost as terrific is Natalie Portman, who makes the most of her ten minutes of screen time. Big ups to Philip Seymour Hoffman, Kathy Baker, and Brendan Gleeson as well.
Jude Law does what he can with the character he's given, a dullard by the name of Inman. I could not have cared less about Inman or his journey except within the context of the people he meets along the way. The same goes for Nicole Kidman, who didn't appear to have a character to play at all. Their chemistry was just about nil - as a result I was actually dreading their inevitable reunion, when all the wonderful supporting actors would fade into the background.
The cinematography and music have been rightfully lauded. Say what you will about his command of plot and character, Anthony Minghella certainly knows how to make a good-looking film.
Minghella, I find more and more, is a bit of an enigma. Is he a true artist trying to tell stories, or is he a hack trying to nab the adulation of film critics? Unfortunately, this one definitely leans more toward falling into the "hack" column. I'll await his next picture with baited breath.
Summer of Sam (1999)
Grade: A-
The climate is fear, pure and simple. Fear so heavy you breathe it in. There's a menacing entity killing nearly at random, and no one knows where, when, or who it'll strike next. The authorities are working hard to bring the danger to an end, but they're seemingly blocked at every turn. As the tension mounts, everything the people of this place don't like or understand becomes suspect. Social conventions break down. Hysteria seeps into the hearts of these people, a good, hardworking, blue collar people. And it drives them mad.
The story I've just told is essentially the story told in "Summer of Sam", which I believe is Spike Lee's best film. The story takes place in the summer of 1977 in New York City, but social mores being what they are today, it could easily take place in any town in America today, right now. Replace the Son of Sam with a terrorist threat, and the situation becomes strikingly similar.
The vigilantes who beat Richie at the end of the film are beating him because he works at a gay strip club, not because they think he's the Son of Sam. They don't like his hair or his music or his friends or his attitude, but in the end the straw that breaks the camel's back is his sexuality. As the country struggles with a potential Constitutional gay marriage ban, we need to think about where our anger toward homosexuality is really coming from. Is it coming from a sense of morality, or is it coming from a sense of fear?
That's enough political mumbojumbo though. This is a stunning film, and don't let anyone tell you different. I noticed Adrien Brody in this flick long before anyone saw "The Pianist", and I said then that he was going to be a star someday. He should have gotten an Oscar nomination for his work here, as should have John Leguizamo and Mira Sorvino, Leguizamo especially. He shows range I haven't seen from him since. The script plays like an Arthur Miller stage production. Tormented protagonist, fighting battles with his own soul that he should learn to let go of. A climactic moral test of wills. Society turning on an individual out of fear and anger.
So props to Spike Lee, who may never be this good again. "Malcolm X" and "The 25th Hour" are also both really wonderful films, but for me, this one takes the cake. If you haven't seen it already, do so. A lot of people don't like it, but like Adrien Brody says in the film, you've gotta think for yourself.
Angel Heart (1987)
Grade: A
I was stunned at what this film did to me. An absolutely brilliant display of psychological horror. Alan Parker made the scariest film of the eighties, maybe the scariest film of the second half of the century with this picture. The hell with "Psycho", "Angel Heart" is where it's at if you want horror.
I don't know how Parker hasn't become the Hitchcock of his generation after this film. I know some of his other work - "Evita" and Mississippi Burning" are two films of his that I happen to think are pretty good. But they're nothing like this. What Parker does so well here, what he seems to get better than any other director I've noticed since this film was made, is how atmosphere makes a movie. He has a real sense of place and time that's a key component to making the terror of this movie real.
Aside from Parker's talents, there are three performances without which the movie just wouldn't work.
Robert de Niro gives the second best performance of his career here, right next to "Raging Bull", and even that's pretty close. I'm not even normally a huge fan of de Niro's - I mean, don't get me wrong, he's a legend, but I find most of the time that I'm less impressed with him than most people are. Not here. In this movie, de Niro makes the simple act of eating an egg into a treatise on mortal dread. He should have received the Oscar for this performance, no question about it.
Lisa Bonet - what happened to her? Every couple of years I'll see her in something like this or "High Fidelity", and she's got all this charisma - she really is a superb actress. What she does here is really interesting because you can see that it's very underdone, a lot of subtlety. Which is a strange way to go if you're playing a voodoo priestess. But she's very vulnerable here. I think it's a shame she didn't become the star she could have. I'd love to see more work from her.
Mickey Rourke is another resident of the "Where are they now?" file. I've heard more from him recently though. He's been making a comeback of sorts. He's actually the primary reason I rented this movie, because I saw him in Sean Penn's "The Pledge" and wanted to see more of his stuff. He's the third performance that makes this movie complete, and he's the one who really has the hardest job, who has to strap it to his back and get it across the finish line. His is also the most important job, because he needs to instill the terror in you. It's through his eyes that you witness these bizarre events, and it's his reaction that makes it all the more terrifying.
Again, brilliant. Can't say enough about it. The last thirty seconds or so kind of sucks (those of you who've seen it know what I'm referring to), but I can just turn it off before that. Oddly, it doesn't ruin what's come before.
A Countess from Hong Kong (1967)
Grade: B+
"Charlie Chaplin & Marlon Brando? Are you KIDDING me?"
Those were my exact words when I first found out about this movie, which was about a week ago. It was like manna from heaven. I love Chaplin, and as an actor, Brando is an icon to me. Two of the greatest geniuses in the history of film collaborating on a project? That was really a very exciting prospect. I couldn't understand why I hadn't heard of it before.
I still can't, really. I mean, this is no "City Lights" or "Modern Times", but it definitely has its place. What I think is really interesting is that Chaplin and Brando were, at this point in their careers, a pair of lepers in the film community. Chaplin had been exiled from the States years before for suspected socialist tendencies, and Brando was considered an insurance risk and a prima donna. How these two obstinate, powerful, wounded personalities found each other is, I'm sure, a tale for the ages. One that I'd love to see put to film by the way.
On to the film. It's about an American politician and diplomat, Ogden Mears, son of a Texas oilman. Brando as Mears is delightfully cynical about America's good will towards the world. When he's named Plenopotentiary to Saudi Arabia early in the film, Mears comments, "I always figured I'd keep my hand in the oil business."
Mears is on a trip to Hong Kong when he meets Natascha (an absolutely ravishing Sophia Loren), a Russian aristocrat whose family fled the Marxists during the Revolution. Natascha has had a hard life, been forced into prostitution, had to live on the streets. She's become adept at survival by any means necessary, and she stows away in Mears' cabin on board a luxury liner heading back to America after the two of them have a wild evening together.
This is where the fun begins. Once Mears discovers her, he has to find a way to get her off the boat without causing a scandal. Hilarity ensues.
Of course, what you've just read is a plot description, not an analysis of what the film is really about. Chaplin clearly had issues with the immigration system in the United States, especially where it regards refugees seeking political asylum. Brando's attitude in the beginning, which is self-serving and rude, reflects what Chaplin believes the American attitude is towards those not born here and in need of help.
The film is not laugh-out-loud funny all the way through, though it certainly has its moments. Patrick Cargill as Mears' butler is particularly funny in the kind of role Chaplin might have been good in thirty years before. Margaret Rutherford and Angela Scoular also have truly hilarious, if brief, moments as a batty old woman also staying on the ship and as an inane society girl that seems to have stepped straight out of one of Chaplin's social commentaries of the thirties.
Brando is not particularly funny, but then again he doesn't really have to be. He's sort of the straight man, something he does awfully well for someone who's made a career out of being plumb nuts. Loren is adorable and sexy. This is one of her better roles. Sydney Chaplin and Tippi Hedren really have very little to do. Sydney, Charlie's son I believe, spends a lot of time running around like a chicken with its head cut off for his best buddy Mears, and Hedren is simply cold as Mears' soon-to-be ex-wife.
This was a fitting end to Chaplin's career. It's a shame more people aren't aware of it.
Confidence (2003)
Grade: C-
I remember seeing trailers for this in theaters and really looking forward to it. I love a good grift flick. "The Sting", "Ocean's Eleven" (which isn't really a movie about con artists, but whatever), even the James Woods starrer "Diggstown" were all mightily enjoyable, and I assumed the same would be true of "Confidence". Dustin Hoffman, James Foley, what's not to like?
For one thing, the story.
I'm sure Doug Jung is a nice guy. I'm sure there are many things he's good at it - horseshoes, perhaps, or stock car racing. Screen writing isn't one of them. This was among the least imaginative con stories I've ever run across. From frame one I had the twist figured out, because it's been done a million times. The characters seemed like sort of lame Elmore Leonard retreads, and it didn't help that Ed Burns seemed to be doing his very best imitation of George Clooney in "Out of Sight". And poor Rachel Weisz! She really doesn't have much to do but stand there and look pretty. Doug, the bad news is that Elmore Leonard you ain't. I mean really, man. A character named Lupus? That's just bad taste.
The good news is that when you've got actors like Dustin Hoffman in your corner, it almost doesn't matter (ALMOST). This is one of Hoffman's most interesting performances of late. As a hyperactive L.A. crime boss known as "the King", Hoffman is unlike any other gangland bad guy I've seen recently. He's friendly to the point of psychosis, he tells a good yarn, and he's very good at sensing when he's being lied to. He's also a very dangerous man, a point that Hoffman got across a lot better through his performance than the script probably indicated.
James Foley, a director I like a lot based almost entirely on his masterpiece "Glengarry Glen Ross", throws himself into it with something approaching cautious optimism. The style is Foley all the way through. I particularly like the way Foley deals with color in his movies, and that's here too. Shot selection, lighting, cinematography are all very interesting, and he does what he can with keeping the narrative thread lively despite a deadly dull and predictable script.
One last positive note: Paul Giamatti is a terrific actor who can spin almost any tripe that's coming out of his mouth into gold. He's sort of like Philip Seymour Hoffman that way. So there.