The Manipulator

I would simply state that this movie was less than horrible, but I feel that would be too nice. Basically, I would rather consume rancid lobster than endure this cinematic travesty again. I respect Mickey Rooney as a great American actor and I have enjoyed many of his films but he should definitely abstain himself from any experimentations with abstract art and hallucinogens. I wouldn't recommend this film to the devil himself.

Mickey Rooney lets loose in a strange little film. Rooney plays a deranged makeup man who kidnaps a young woman and then holds her in an old warehouse full of props, forcing her to act in his movie while he drifts in and out of reality.

To say that this two person film is strange is an understatement. Its clear why Rooney agreed to do the film since it lets him do things that he never got to do with Judy Garland or as Andy Hardy. Whats not so clear is why we'd want to watch it since its 90 minutes trapped with a psycho. This isn't to knock Rooney's performance, rather its to praise it since this clearly isn't a guy we want to have over for dinner.

I'm on the fence about this film. I can't really recommend it for any reason other than being able to see Mickey Rooney let go. However if you want to see what else Rooney could do beyond the typical see this movie. Everyone else stay away.

Cinematic travesty is right! This film is rancid and putrid and boring and so God awful! Mickey Rooney plays some mental case that thinks he is making movies back in 1947 in an old props room where he instructs his "actress" Luana Anders in Cyrano De Bergerac. All 90 minutes basically takes place in this "loft" that really looks like nothing more than the backstage of a small theater. Watching this film was excrutiating torture as we get to see Mickey Rooney give the worst performance of his career, as well as Luana Anders! Rooney is barking out orders to stagehands that aren't there one moment, then he is dancing around and singing "Pardon Me Boys, Is That the Chattanooga Choochoo." He is painful to watch as in one scene he wears make-up and looks like a cheap hooker on the Vegas Strip(based on his looks...one real CHEAP hooker to boot!). Most of the time he looks like some maniacal gnome. Some of the scenes even have speeded scenes so we can see him dance about in fast motion no less. Anders is just as bad(at least looks good) as we never really can tell what her motivation is or what she really feels. This is just one real reel bad film. Director Yabo Yablinsky deserves most of the blame as he forfeits plot structure, characterization, pacing, motivation, and all those things that are a part of a good film for nonsense, halluciatory dream sequences that mean absolutely nothing, and odd, repetitive camera angles. Whew! What a stinker! Yabo is one yahoo!!!

There's a not insignificant realm of cinema where art unbound roams raging into madness. But less in number are the films that cross into this maelstrom and there not only find meaning but grasp quintessence, and The Manipulator is one of these films. As uncompromising a study of madness as I've ever seen, it tells the story of ageing film-maker BJ Lang and his captive Carlotta who he forces to play Roxanne to his Cyrano in scenes from the Rostand play. The story is barely skeletal, mostly a two handed piece with a short appearance from a wino, its flesh is its dialogue and technique and the two entwine remarkably well, not that you would guess from the average reviewer here, most of whom seem to be hung up on not understanding (nor even attempting to) what they were seeing. Essentially The Manipulator looks at the processes of art in abstraction, removed from their connection to the creation of a cohesive work, and treats them as means of psyche infection, a force that has entirely infested poor BJ Lang, breaking down all the structures that hold him together. In his shadowy and cobwebbed studio he acts the role of director, talks to mannequins as his crew, adopts their voices to talk to himself, plays Cyrano, plays actor, even self aware mad old man. With nothing to hold his notions separate he skips wildly between fiction and reality, artifice and insanity, self knowledge and deceit, even touching on legitimate insights along the way. And in the process slowly but surely a picture of art run to its terrible potential emerges, the manipulations of creating fiction, the manipulations of crafting an actual artwork, these processes of one wielding control over many, we see that complete control, to some the loftiest goal, means the collapse of the individual and rebuilding as collective consciousness, consciousness oh so difficult to hold in any kind of check once developed. It is as you might guess, not exactly an easy film. That it works so well is to a great extent down to Mickey Rooney as BJ Lang, giving an extraordinarily uninhibited performance. Every shade of pathos and mania, even strange grandeur, singing, dancing, physical comedy, there are scarce few other turns in film so free and wild. He is utterly, bizarrely compelling, hateful at times and sympathetic at others, simply superb. Luana Anders does a good job as his foil Carlotta, she mostly has to react, growing steadily more and more desperate and unhinged herself, not quite as showy a turn but still playing very well of Rooney, rather chilling in her plight. Keenan Wynn is good too as a wino, though he has really to do except shifting the plot and sense of reality for a spell. The technique matches the acting in outlandishness, deploying all manner of unbalanced angles, close ups, speedy edits, colored lenses, strobe lighting, hallucinatory sound design, hazy phantasms, all this piled on relentlessly to disturb the viewer as much as the characters on screen. The terrific art direction (by Larry Cohen) goes well with the directorial flourishes too, all manner of mannequins, both whole and in parts alone, free standing or hanging, and an array of beasts as well. And not surprisingly the score is unusual too, ranging from piano and sawing strings to strange noisy burbles. So altogether its a dense film, by the end almost an exhausting one, and most certainly not to all tastes. But for those interested in the intersection of madness and art, of truly bizarre art-house horror or just of unfettered acting exercises this is most certainly a worthy watch. 8/10

Everyone who has commented on this film to date has been right. It is a terrible, nearly unwatchable movie, directed by someone who has seen too many avant-garde short films by Stan Brakhage and Maya Derren and who mistakenly believed that a 90-minute commercial movie could be made using their techniques.

But it is also a filmed actors exercise, an extended acting class in which someone said to Mickey Rooney, "Let's test your chops, and explore the limits of your acting range." Viewing the movie that way, it is a triumph for Rooney. His acting talent is incredible, and in two- or three-minute bites his performance can be mesmerizing. He takes a mess of a script, an insane and unsympathetic character, and crazy lines, and comes off not just as believable but as affecting. You really don't want to see this movie, but if someone showed you a few short clips from it you would gain a new appreciation for Rooney's abilities.

Luana Anders holds her own as Rooney's captive, but it is Rooney's show.