shaneo632
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Billy Bob Thornton's Sling Blade, adapted from George Hickenlooper's short film Some Folks Call it a Sling Blade (which also starred Thornton), earned a "Best Adapted Screenplay" Oscar win, as well as a "Best Actor" nomination for Thornton, who pulls triple duty in writing, directing and starring in this bitingly effective document of a fish truly, tragically out of water.
Thornton plays Karl, a mentally handicapped man who has spent the last twenty five years of his life in a mental hospital for killing his mother and her lover when he was a child. We meet up with him as he is released from the facility, returning home, where he attempts to, with nowhere to live, no familial contacts, and little cash, reintegrate himself into society. Thus, these initial moments of Karl's freedom in of themselves are a depressing, saddening social commentary on how we treat those we release from incarceration.
Nevertheless, the tone of the picture frequently meanders into acceptably sweet territory Karl finds work with people who take care of him and understand his needs, and more importantly, is befriended by a fatherless child and his mother, who invite him to live with them. It must be said that the manner in which Karl is invited to live with this duo is a tad too neat and dry-cut, but the mother character does at least come across as generally very charitable, understanding, and pleasant.
Karl's interactions with the boy, Frank (played by Lucas Black, who is quite the impressive actor himself), allow for a refreshingly honest discourse, not only between Karl and the boy, but as a viewer observing the film, it is verbal catharsis on screen. The two individuals, in their naivety, hold little back from one another, each revealing a number of home truths to the other, and it is nothing less than thrilling to watch.
Much of Sling Blade's success can be drawn from its memorable performances from a myriad of understated, under-appreciated talents, from the late actors John Ritter (as a homosexual friend of the boy and his mother) and J.T. Walsh (one of Karl's comically disturbing co-detainees), to the stunning Dwight Yoakam as the abusive boyfriend of Frank's mother. In respect to Ritter, his turn is all the more welcome as it is largely a non-comedic role, although his scene with Karl in a diner is inherently funny thanks to their conflicting, entirely opposed trains of thought.
Whilst Thornton quite rightly received much critical acclaim for his portrayal of Karl, perhaps the dark horse of Sling Blade is Dwight Yoakam's turn as Doyle, the bigoted Southerner who lives with Frank and his mother. In one instance, where he causes a party to turn foul, I felt genuinely angry at his character Yoakam manages to play a thoroughly dislikeable individual with such vigour that one may almost turn to despise Yoakam himself. As Frank, in responding to Doyle's angry tirade, begins throwing items at Doyle in rage, I was in awe of the array of astounding acting talent on screen before me in Sling Blade, and by all probability, you will be also. The gravity of the hopelessness of these individuals is amplified by Thornton's frequent use of single take scenes throughout the film, almost lending a play-like format to the project.
Sling Blade is a film of little ambiguity Thornton draws dark, thick lines around his characters, and it is clear that, as the film progresses, Karl is more and more becoming a substitute for Frank's deceased father, although one could guess this simply from reading a synopsis of the film. It is not so much that Thornton is matter-of-fact about such plot arcs, but that he is not concerned with surprising his audience, and rightly so Sling Blade is a simple story of a simple man. If one can draw any deeper symbolism or subtext from the film, perhaps it is that in the south of America, even Karl, in his dim-wittedness, can form tolerant, educated assertions (about homosexuals, for example), yet the "rednecks" such as Doyle cannot.
Sling Blade does ultimately take the expected turn, one which can be guessed a good ninety minutes prior to its actual occurrence. However, this is not important what is important, and more to the point, what is interesting about what occurs in the final ten minutes of the film, is the morality of the situation. It may divide audiences in some respects, yet what is clear is that what it says about society and human beings in general is very disturbing. The film's close, whilst mired in tragedy, is uplifting in its own stomach churning way, and makes an important commentary on the post-incarceration process of not only mental hospitals, but prisons also.
The Director's Cut of Sling Blade, even at a weighty 148 minutes, and despite its slow pace, is gripping film-making. Thornton's tragic tale is an outstanding mixture of memorable performances, a sharp script, and arresting direction, and rather than swerving at the final traffic straight, he takes us on a largely smooth, occasionally bumpy ride that makes note of several of the many things wrong with society. With Thornton writing, directing and starring in this film, each with their own flare and ingenuity, the term "tour de force" is rarely more apt. Sling Blade, whilst perhaps too sedate for some, is a gallant effort that achieves in every manner that a film of this ilk should.
Thornton plays Karl, a mentally handicapped man who has spent the last twenty five years of his life in a mental hospital for killing his mother and her lover when he was a child. We meet up with him as he is released from the facility, returning home, where he attempts to, with nowhere to live, no familial contacts, and little cash, reintegrate himself into society. Thus, these initial moments of Karl's freedom in of themselves are a depressing, saddening social commentary on how we treat those we release from incarceration.
Nevertheless, the tone of the picture frequently meanders into acceptably sweet territory Karl finds work with people who take care of him and understand his needs, and more importantly, is befriended by a fatherless child and his mother, who invite him to live with them. It must be said that the manner in which Karl is invited to live with this duo is a tad too neat and dry-cut, but the mother character does at least come across as generally very charitable, understanding, and pleasant.
Karl's interactions with the boy, Frank (played by Lucas Black, who is quite the impressive actor himself), allow for a refreshingly honest discourse, not only between Karl and the boy, but as a viewer observing the film, it is verbal catharsis on screen. The two individuals, in their naivety, hold little back from one another, each revealing a number of home truths to the other, and it is nothing less than thrilling to watch.
Much of Sling Blade's success can be drawn from its memorable performances from a myriad of understated, under-appreciated talents, from the late actors John Ritter (as a homosexual friend of the boy and his mother) and J.T. Walsh (one of Karl's comically disturbing co-detainees), to the stunning Dwight Yoakam as the abusive boyfriend of Frank's mother. In respect to Ritter, his turn is all the more welcome as it is largely a non-comedic role, although his scene with Karl in a diner is inherently funny thanks to their conflicting, entirely opposed trains of thought.
Whilst Thornton quite rightly received much critical acclaim for his portrayal of Karl, perhaps the dark horse of Sling Blade is Dwight Yoakam's turn as Doyle, the bigoted Southerner who lives with Frank and his mother. In one instance, where he causes a party to turn foul, I felt genuinely angry at his character Yoakam manages to play a thoroughly dislikeable individual with such vigour that one may almost turn to despise Yoakam himself. As Frank, in responding to Doyle's angry tirade, begins throwing items at Doyle in rage, I was in awe of the array of astounding acting talent on screen before me in Sling Blade, and by all probability, you will be also. The gravity of the hopelessness of these individuals is amplified by Thornton's frequent use of single take scenes throughout the film, almost lending a play-like format to the project.
Sling Blade is a film of little ambiguity Thornton draws dark, thick lines around his characters, and it is clear that, as the film progresses, Karl is more and more becoming a substitute for Frank's deceased father, although one could guess this simply from reading a synopsis of the film. It is not so much that Thornton is matter-of-fact about such plot arcs, but that he is not concerned with surprising his audience, and rightly so Sling Blade is a simple story of a simple man. If one can draw any deeper symbolism or subtext from the film, perhaps it is that in the south of America, even Karl, in his dim-wittedness, can form tolerant, educated assertions (about homosexuals, for example), yet the "rednecks" such as Doyle cannot.
Sling Blade does ultimately take the expected turn, one which can be guessed a good ninety minutes prior to its actual occurrence. However, this is not important what is important, and more to the point, what is interesting about what occurs in the final ten minutes of the film, is the morality of the situation. It may divide audiences in some respects, yet what is clear is that what it says about society and human beings in general is very disturbing. The film's close, whilst mired in tragedy, is uplifting in its own stomach churning way, and makes an important commentary on the post-incarceration process of not only mental hospitals, but prisons also.
The Director's Cut of Sling Blade, even at a weighty 148 minutes, and despite its slow pace, is gripping film-making. Thornton's tragic tale is an outstanding mixture of memorable performances, a sharp script, and arresting direction, and rather than swerving at the final traffic straight, he takes us on a largely smooth, occasionally bumpy ride that makes note of several of the many things wrong with society. With Thornton writing, directing and starring in this film, each with their own flare and ingenuity, the term "tour de force" is rarely more apt. Sling Blade, whilst perhaps too sedate for some, is a gallant effort that achieves in every manner that a film of this ilk should.
Frank A. Cappello, writer and director of He Was a Quiet Man, is a man with something to prove, having written the hilariously bad Hulk Hogan vehicle Suburban Commando, and directing the wholly disappointing Constantine. He Was a Quiet Man, whilst not an unqualified success, is one of the underseen gems of 2007.
The film is essentially an amalgam of A History of Violence, Falling Down, and Office Space, with a pile of quirks to boot. Bob Maconel (the hilariously disguised Christian Slater), a despondent office worker, decides that he is going to perform a murderous rampage at his work office, yet before he can do so, a fellow maniac beats him to it. However, Bob, in protecting the one person that he cares about, the beautiful Vanessa (Elisha Cuthbert), guns down the assailant, and inadvertently becomes a hero.
Bob is unashamedly similar to Michael Douglas' "D-Fens" character from Falling Down, kitted out in a shirt and tie, and even further, seeks moments of reflection in the great outdoors, although in this instance, there are no Mexican gangsters attempting to rob him. The similarities do, thankfully, stop there this film is born of something else, with its CGI traffic whizzing by at astronomical speeds as Bob dawdles along, illustrating the drudgery of Bob's life without an ounce of subtlety. Whilst the film as a whole is overly reliant on visual curiosities such as this, the animated, talking fish which eggs Bob on to kill his colleagues is delightfully colourful, and mildly amusing to boot.
As one can gather from the above paragraph, He Was a Quiet Man is very surreal in a hilarious sort of way. Essentially, if you gave David Lynch a funny bone, you'd probably end up with something remarkably similar to this. Despite the aforementioned reliance on visual effects, the film is unquestionably carried by the barely-recognisable Slater who, despite his recent collaboration with tragically awful director Uwe Boll, proves that he is still worth something in Hollywood, with comic timing that is nothing short of spot on.
Bob is essentially revered by everyone around him for his "heroic" actions he is given a new job, his colleagues no longer think of him as a schmuck, and the sexy office bitch wants to have sex with him, yet the film's real point of contention is Cuthbert's character. Vanessa is left paralysed following the shooting, wishing that she was dead, and moreover, she wishes that Bob, who saved her life, would kill her.
A surprisingly understated (until the climatic scenes) conundrum surfaces as an aside to this drama Bob still finds those around him utterly repugnant, and he considers whether or not to carry out what the other gunner started, as well as putting Vanessa out of her misery, of course. The film carries these questions very well it is at times predictable, and occasionally not so, yet it never ceases to lose its sense of intrigue. The film's examination of the way in which humans operate is not intricate, and verges on syrupy at times, yet what is most entertaining about He Was a Quiet Man is its surreal spirit. Furthermore, even in its sweetness, the film explores the lives of disabled persons with a surprising level of insight and honesty . It may be exaggerated, and at times, even humorous, yet its approach is undeniably refreshing, particularly in relation to how the disabled manage to still engage in an active and healthy sex life.
He Was a Quiet Man never remains comfortable, constantly fidgeting and posing new questions for both ourselves and Bob to consider. The film follows through with an insane close, yet it is the most manically reasoned, and therefore, perhaps the most realistic end possible (although term "realism" is a very tenuous one in a film as twisted as this). The ending comes very abruptly, and little is done to satisfy viewer curiosity, yet we are given the vital answers, even if they aren't wholly satisfying, and are a tad questionable. We are left to ponder several things, yet when the preceding ninety minutes are so intentionally devoid of poignance, the film may simply leave your mind as the final frame does.
Christian Slater's latest and greatest effort (at least for a while) is A History of Violence without the graphic violence, Falling Down without the social commentary, and Office Space without the sagacious humour. Yes, it is a blend of all three films, at the cost of diluting each of them. The film's worst crime may be never allowing us to particularly care for Bob (or anyone) as much as we did for D-Fens in Schumacher's film, yet even despite its relative superficiality, He Was a Quiet Man remains a thoroughly entertaining, inventive and quirky film that will have nihilists the world over utterly dumbfounded (myself included). Elisha Cuthbert pulls out a career best (in that she is above tolerable, and even "good"), William H Macy plays the corporate yes-man with glee, and Slater, with great aid from his fabulous make-up department, looks and acts with great hilarity. It is unfortunate that this film, embracing its flaws as it so flagrantly does, has yet to find a large audience, and as such, it instantly becomes one of the indie staples of 2007.
The film is essentially an amalgam of A History of Violence, Falling Down, and Office Space, with a pile of quirks to boot. Bob Maconel (the hilariously disguised Christian Slater), a despondent office worker, decides that he is going to perform a murderous rampage at his work office, yet before he can do so, a fellow maniac beats him to it. However, Bob, in protecting the one person that he cares about, the beautiful Vanessa (Elisha Cuthbert), guns down the assailant, and inadvertently becomes a hero.
Bob is unashamedly similar to Michael Douglas' "D-Fens" character from Falling Down, kitted out in a shirt and tie, and even further, seeks moments of reflection in the great outdoors, although in this instance, there are no Mexican gangsters attempting to rob him. The similarities do, thankfully, stop there this film is born of something else, with its CGI traffic whizzing by at astronomical speeds as Bob dawdles along, illustrating the drudgery of Bob's life without an ounce of subtlety. Whilst the film as a whole is overly reliant on visual curiosities such as this, the animated, talking fish which eggs Bob on to kill his colleagues is delightfully colourful, and mildly amusing to boot.
As one can gather from the above paragraph, He Was a Quiet Man is very surreal in a hilarious sort of way. Essentially, if you gave David Lynch a funny bone, you'd probably end up with something remarkably similar to this. Despite the aforementioned reliance on visual effects, the film is unquestionably carried by the barely-recognisable Slater who, despite his recent collaboration with tragically awful director Uwe Boll, proves that he is still worth something in Hollywood, with comic timing that is nothing short of spot on.
Bob is essentially revered by everyone around him for his "heroic" actions he is given a new job, his colleagues no longer think of him as a schmuck, and the sexy office bitch wants to have sex with him, yet the film's real point of contention is Cuthbert's character. Vanessa is left paralysed following the shooting, wishing that she was dead, and moreover, she wishes that Bob, who saved her life, would kill her.
A surprisingly understated (until the climatic scenes) conundrum surfaces as an aside to this drama Bob still finds those around him utterly repugnant, and he considers whether or not to carry out what the other gunner started, as well as putting Vanessa out of her misery, of course. The film carries these questions very well it is at times predictable, and occasionally not so, yet it never ceases to lose its sense of intrigue. The film's examination of the way in which humans operate is not intricate, and verges on syrupy at times, yet what is most entertaining about He Was a Quiet Man is its surreal spirit. Furthermore, even in its sweetness, the film explores the lives of disabled persons with a surprising level of insight and honesty . It may be exaggerated, and at times, even humorous, yet its approach is undeniably refreshing, particularly in relation to how the disabled manage to still engage in an active and healthy sex life.
He Was a Quiet Man never remains comfortable, constantly fidgeting and posing new questions for both ourselves and Bob to consider. The film follows through with an insane close, yet it is the most manically reasoned, and therefore, perhaps the most realistic end possible (although term "realism" is a very tenuous one in a film as twisted as this). The ending comes very abruptly, and little is done to satisfy viewer curiosity, yet we are given the vital answers, even if they aren't wholly satisfying, and are a tad questionable. We are left to ponder several things, yet when the preceding ninety minutes are so intentionally devoid of poignance, the film may simply leave your mind as the final frame does.
Christian Slater's latest and greatest effort (at least for a while) is A History of Violence without the graphic violence, Falling Down without the social commentary, and Office Space without the sagacious humour. Yes, it is a blend of all three films, at the cost of diluting each of them. The film's worst crime may be never allowing us to particularly care for Bob (or anyone) as much as we did for D-Fens in Schumacher's film, yet even despite its relative superficiality, He Was a Quiet Man remains a thoroughly entertaining, inventive and quirky film that will have nihilists the world over utterly dumbfounded (myself included). Elisha Cuthbert pulls out a career best (in that she is above tolerable, and even "good"), William H Macy plays the corporate yes-man with glee, and Slater, with great aid from his fabulous make-up department, looks and acts with great hilarity. It is unfortunate that this film, embracing its flaws as it so flagrantly does, has yet to find a large audience, and as such, it instantly becomes one of the indie staples of 2007.
Shaun Munro's Film Reviews (www.shaunmunro.co.uk):
The Bucket List is a quick grab Morgan Freeman, the master of voice-over that he is, soothes us into what is one of the more offbeat, yet curiously enjoyable titles of 2007. The concept alone, of two old coots running around, causing mayhem on their last legs, portrayed by Oscar-winners no less, is a promising one.
Fortunately, Rob Reiner's return to the camera wastes little time in building up its characters it, for fear of sounding cruel, gets them terminal rather quickly, and introduces them to one another so we can zip to the rather zany concept as soon as possible. The lines drawn are ones of stark contrast Edward Cole (Jack Nicholson) is a high-flying, brazen man, whose values differ distinctly from those of the noble, wise family man that is Carter Chambers (Morgan Freeman). People will naturally draw upon the racial aspect of the situation, yet such posturing is very much beside the point here. Both men are diagnosed with terminal illnesses, and share the same hospital room, in which they compose a "bucket list" a list of acts to carry out before they "kick the bucket", and so the adventure begins.
The bonding between the two characters leading up to the creation of the list manages to avoid seeming forced their discourse isn't overly memorable or interesting, but it is certainly effective enough to engage. The film takes its time to get to its core concept, yet once we get there, observing Cole adding his wild ideas to the list (such as skydiving) is a delight to watch. It is, however, a shame that Nicholson and Freeman barely had to get out of bed (literally) for their roles, in that each instance of diving out of planes and racing stunt cars is inexorably smothered in an unhealthy, horrendous-looking measure of CGI. As Cole and Carter race in their stunt cars, Cole utters, "Are you trying to kill us?", to which Carter retorts, "So what if I do?". Thus reflects the mild gallows humour that pervades throughout the film Carter's reply in this instance is slightly disturbing, but the scene, with its pop-rock soundtrack and Dukes of Hazzard-esquire stunt racing, is quite the barrel of fun. It is simply a shame that the scene didn't last longer, and wasn't so diluted by visual effects.
This is, however, not simply a film chronicling the hedonistic delights of two dying old men. As hilarious as some may find that concept within itself to be, a source of conflict is nonetheless introduced Carter's family wish for him to return home, feeling that Cole is taking him away before it is his time to go. However, Carter remains steadfast, and his revealed ambivalence towards his wife adds considerable depth to the conundrum. Underneath the jovial undertaking of two men's transition into death is a mildly layered approach, which, albeit dealt with in piecemeal fashion, at least hints at the strain and anguish endured by the families of these men. To entirely tar the film with a comical brush would be a misstep, one which Reiner narrowly avoids.
Whilst the film is very evidently slanted in favour of the sage, wise Carter, it is slightly more complex than a cut and dry, black and white (literally) duality. Rather, Cole recognises Carter's ideals and philosophies, yet rebukes them with his own stubborn ones. As the picture progresses, an air of mutual understanding is felt between the two, and whilst they both learn a lesson or two, they also both retain their core values, to the (not so) bitter end. As such, there are no convoluted character reversals, and the picture manages to avoid becoming bogged down in contrivances.
Near its close, The Bucket List quite predictably fractures the friendship between these two men, and draws the stark social contrasts that I was hoping that it would not. Nonetheless, by the time the conclusion rears its head, Reiner does not back out on his promise, and whilst the film does bathe in a wealth of sentimentality as the end draws near, it is affecting, and works within the context of the film. It is, however, simply a shame that only in the film's final moments is Nicholson able to truly exhibit his acting credentials, and Freeman is barely able to kick into gear at all.
The Bucket List is a wild film, and whilst its message of "live life to the fullest" is neither new nor refreshingly told, Freeman and Nicholson carry a fairly tenuous concept with their spirited portrayals of two lovable oafs. The fact that Reiner never provides them with material worthy of their acting calibre is a huge waste, yet at this stage, as Nicholson and Freeman themselves endure "accelerated development", the material is relevant, and it is clear that the principal actors, despite coasting through the largely rudimentary script, had a lot of fun with it. With most other actors, this film would likely not have worked, even with the emotional chord it strikes, yet when such an absurd concept for a film is handed over to two of the most critically acclaimed actors alive today, one can at least expect a decent payoff. The Bucket List is certainly not Rob Reiner's best work, but it is far from his worst, and as a feel-good holiday film (even with its dreary undertones), it succeeds.
The Bucket List is a quick grab Morgan Freeman, the master of voice-over that he is, soothes us into what is one of the more offbeat, yet curiously enjoyable titles of 2007. The concept alone, of two old coots running around, causing mayhem on their last legs, portrayed by Oscar-winners no less, is a promising one.
Fortunately, Rob Reiner's return to the camera wastes little time in building up its characters it, for fear of sounding cruel, gets them terminal rather quickly, and introduces them to one another so we can zip to the rather zany concept as soon as possible. The lines drawn are ones of stark contrast Edward Cole (Jack Nicholson) is a high-flying, brazen man, whose values differ distinctly from those of the noble, wise family man that is Carter Chambers (Morgan Freeman). People will naturally draw upon the racial aspect of the situation, yet such posturing is very much beside the point here. Both men are diagnosed with terminal illnesses, and share the same hospital room, in which they compose a "bucket list" a list of acts to carry out before they "kick the bucket", and so the adventure begins.
The bonding between the two characters leading up to the creation of the list manages to avoid seeming forced their discourse isn't overly memorable or interesting, but it is certainly effective enough to engage. The film takes its time to get to its core concept, yet once we get there, observing Cole adding his wild ideas to the list (such as skydiving) is a delight to watch. It is, however, a shame that Nicholson and Freeman barely had to get out of bed (literally) for their roles, in that each instance of diving out of planes and racing stunt cars is inexorably smothered in an unhealthy, horrendous-looking measure of CGI. As Cole and Carter race in their stunt cars, Cole utters, "Are you trying to kill us?", to which Carter retorts, "So what if I do?". Thus reflects the mild gallows humour that pervades throughout the film Carter's reply in this instance is slightly disturbing, but the scene, with its pop-rock soundtrack and Dukes of Hazzard-esquire stunt racing, is quite the barrel of fun. It is simply a shame that the scene didn't last longer, and wasn't so diluted by visual effects.
This is, however, not simply a film chronicling the hedonistic delights of two dying old men. As hilarious as some may find that concept within itself to be, a source of conflict is nonetheless introduced Carter's family wish for him to return home, feeling that Cole is taking him away before it is his time to go. However, Carter remains steadfast, and his revealed ambivalence towards his wife adds considerable depth to the conundrum. Underneath the jovial undertaking of two men's transition into death is a mildly layered approach, which, albeit dealt with in piecemeal fashion, at least hints at the strain and anguish endured by the families of these men. To entirely tar the film with a comical brush would be a misstep, one which Reiner narrowly avoids.
Whilst the film is very evidently slanted in favour of the sage, wise Carter, it is slightly more complex than a cut and dry, black and white (literally) duality. Rather, Cole recognises Carter's ideals and philosophies, yet rebukes them with his own stubborn ones. As the picture progresses, an air of mutual understanding is felt between the two, and whilst they both learn a lesson or two, they also both retain their core values, to the (not so) bitter end. As such, there are no convoluted character reversals, and the picture manages to avoid becoming bogged down in contrivances.
Near its close, The Bucket List quite predictably fractures the friendship between these two men, and draws the stark social contrasts that I was hoping that it would not. Nonetheless, by the time the conclusion rears its head, Reiner does not back out on his promise, and whilst the film does bathe in a wealth of sentimentality as the end draws near, it is affecting, and works within the context of the film. It is, however, simply a shame that only in the film's final moments is Nicholson able to truly exhibit his acting credentials, and Freeman is barely able to kick into gear at all.
The Bucket List is a wild film, and whilst its message of "live life to the fullest" is neither new nor refreshingly told, Freeman and Nicholson carry a fairly tenuous concept with their spirited portrayals of two lovable oafs. The fact that Reiner never provides them with material worthy of their acting calibre is a huge waste, yet at this stage, as Nicholson and Freeman themselves endure "accelerated development", the material is relevant, and it is clear that the principal actors, despite coasting through the largely rudimentary script, had a lot of fun with it. With most other actors, this film would likely not have worked, even with the emotional chord it strikes, yet when such an absurd concept for a film is handed over to two of the most critically acclaimed actors alive today, one can at least expect a decent payoff. The Bucket List is certainly not Rob Reiner's best work, but it is far from his worst, and as a feel-good holiday film (even with its dreary undertones), it succeeds.