March 7, 2005
Watch AMERICAN IDOL on Monday night...
...and vote for Travis Tucker, a friend of Film Flam Flummox (and, by extension, the Movie Poop Shoot and View Askew family, and by extension of that, you the reader, so...).
ADDED MARCH 8: Yes, all indications look like Travis won't survive this week. But he obviously had fun while it lasted, and top 16 is no small feat, no?
Cool Enough
The 1995 film adaptation of Elmore Leonard's GET SHORTY could be summed up in two words: John Travolta. Forget PULP FICTION; his performance as mobster-turned-Hollywood hotshot Chili Palmer was the star's true comeback, as he not only charismatically owned the screen, he made it look so damn easy. Watching the belated sequel BE COOL, in regards to Travolta, one is tempted to ask... what happened? There he is, looking a lot more fit than he has in recent films, walking and talking like Chili, but something is a bit amiss. Gone is the palpable joy that fueled that first, justly award-anointed (though not even Oscar nominated) performance and in its place is the been-there, done-that detachment of merely getting by for a paycheck.
Luckily director F. Gary Gray has a cast of colorful and (yes) cool characters surround Travolta in BE COOL, in which Chili (or the pale shadow of him, as it were) makes a move to the music business. Sadly one of these characters is not the one played by PULP co-star Uma Thurman, as her role of a widowed record label owner is a far less interesting "girlfriend" part than Rene Russo's in the original film; as such, their rather protracted dance reunion isn't so much a highlight than a time-filler. Word of mouth is likely to be fueled by Vince Vaughn as an Ebonics-spouting, big pimpin' manager and The Rock as his aspiring actor bodyguard, and they indeed provide the biggest laughs in the entire film; and in smaller roles Cedric the Entertainer and Andre Benjamin also have some choice moments. BE COOL may feel like less like a story than an assemblage of moments and top-notch character acting, but as far as cinematic trifles go, it's guilt-free fun.
Put the Wig On, Vin
The funniest moment of this year's Oscar ceremony came not from host Chris Rock (though he did do a great job) but strangely enough during the tribute to director Sidney Lumet, whose retrospective package included a clip of Vin Diesel wearing something akin to a mangled animal carcass on his head. Alas, there's nothing approaching the level of that gutbuster in THE PACIFIER, the Diesel's baldfaced (no pun intended) attempt to diversify à la the honorable Gov. Schwarzenegger. Diesel plays a tough military guy assigned to protect and babysit the four bratty children of a widow (Faith Ford) as she travels to retrieve some secret something-or-other left behind by her technogeek husband. Director Adam Shankman fails to surprise on just every level as he goes down the laundry list of lowest-common-denominator gags. Diapers? Check. Funny dance scene? Check. Bonding with cutesy little girl? Check. And so it goes, even throwing in a few added wrinkles such as full-blown production numbers from THE SOUND OF MUSIC (you can take Shankman away from choreography, but you can't take the choreographer out of Shankman) and a thoroughly gratuitous Diesel beefcake scene (foreshadowed with such finesse by earlier spoken comments about his body), but the result is still the same: sheer boredom, unless you're under the age of 7.
Jaa Rules
Tony Jaa is a charismatic action superstar in the making, and his amazing Muay Thai moves are without a doubt the reason to watch the Thai import ONG-BAK--and no doubt its entire raison d'être, as the plot is typical thin chopsocky nonsense about a bumpkin from the country (Jaa) who comes to the city to find and retrieve his village's precious statue. So it's a bit baffling that director Prachya Pinkaew lets nearly half of the film pass by before Jaa's character actually starts fighting. There are some cool stunts, such as an extended foot chase that has Jaa making some great flying leaps--even one through barbed wire--without the aid of wires, but no amount of slo-mo instant replays (which Pinkaew severely overuses) are a proper substitute for the thrill that comes with good, old-fashioned, martial arts brawling. But once Jaa gets going, Pinkaew and the film get going, delivering on all the creatively-staged and -choreographed, knees-'n-elbows Muay Thai mayhem one buys the ticket to see, and it's all elevated to a higher, fresher level by Jaa's astonishing athleticism.
A Flimsy JACKET
THE JACKET is by basic definition a time-travel yarn, but to say that is to make John Maybury's rather turgid drama sound more interesting than it is. In the year 1991, one Jack Starks (Adrien Brody), a veteran of the first Gulf War, is committed to a mental institution after mysteriously being charged with murder; in the hospital, he's routinely put in a straitjacket and thrown in a morgue drawer--where he apparently can transport to the year 2007. In this future year, he meets and bonds with a sad sack young waitress named Jackie (Keira Knightley), and her ties with John's past and her fate provide the thin and sadly predictable narrative focus of what is an initially intriguing concept. Equally intriguing is Brody's performance, which never fails to make Jack's anguish real in the extraordinary context. Knightley, however, continues to prove to be a stunning physical presence but a weak actor, again falling back on teeth-clenched mugging; and Jennifer Jason Leigh and Kris Kristofferson are wasted as hospital staffers.
At the Video Store
While Jamie Foxx's Oscar-winning performance as the late, great Ray Charles is justly celebrated, another look at RAY (Universal Studios Home Entertainment) again reinforces my opinion that despite the one man show title, this biopic features one of the strongest ensemble performances in a Hollywood film in recent memory. Sadly lost in the shadow of the "Year of the Foxx" hype were not only fierce and affecting turns by Regina King (as a scorned back-up singer) and the Oscar nod-robbed Sharon Warren as Ray's strong-willed mother, but commendable and too-easily-dismissed work by the likes of Kerry Washington, Clifton Powell and Bokeem Woodbine. Their performances, along with Foxx's and the classic music of Charles, carry the film through director Taylor Hackford's erratic pacing and the film's indulgently bloated running time. Universal's two-disc limited edition DVD includes an extended version of the film (as if it needed to be any longer), commentary by Hackford, numerous documentary featurettes and outtake footage all housed in a handsome hardcover book-like case including a "commemorative" (read: thinly-veiled "For Your Consideration" campaign) booklet.
Although it ended up earning two Academy Award nominations and winning one statue for Best Original Song, buzz around the time of the September release of THE MOTORCYCLE DIARIES (Diarios de Motocicleta) (Universal Studios Home Entertainment) had the film being a potential sleeper in all categories, including Best Picture. It's not surprising that the enthusiasm died rather quickly as this a nicely done, but hardly extraordinary, coming-of-age story about two young Argentinean medical students (Gael Garcia Bernal and Rodrigo de la Serna) who find themselves and their direction in life while on a road trip throughout South America--never mind that Bernal's character happens to be future revolutionary Ernesto "Che" Guevara. The DVD includes deleted scenes and interviews with Bernal and the real-life Alberto Granado (de la Serna's character).
Given star Bernie Mac's status as an Emmy-nominated sitcom star and a reigning King of Comedy, it's no surprise that MR. 3000 (Touchstone Home Entertainment) was marketed as a baseball laffer. It's also not so surprising, then, that the film was ultimately met with commercial indifference, as this story of an arrogant, over-the-hill slugger (Mac) who comes out of retirement to chalk up his 3000th hit is more of a serious sports film than a knee-slapping comedy. Granted, Mac does get ample opportunity to showcase his comic sensibility, but he also shows off his dramatic range as an actor, and in the hands of director Charles Stone III--who with this, DRUMLINE and PAID IN FULL, continues to prove to be an exceptional craftsman of Hollywood formula vehicles--the predictable story is quite involving; aiding the proceedings is a solid supporting cast including Angela Bassett (as Mac's reporter ex-flame) and charismatic up-and-comer Brian White (as an arrogant upstart). The DVD platter also offers more substance than expected; supplements not only include a making-of documentary, commentary by Stone, and deleted and extended scenes, but also a very fascinating and entertaining featurette on the various baseball-playing extras who worked on the film.
To it's credit, Peter Chelsom's American remake of the Japanese arthouse hit SHALL WE DANCE (Miramax Home Entertainment) was far from the disaster that the original's fans--including myself--had feared. That said, something is lost in translating this story of a bored businessman (Richard Gere) who shakes himself out of his ennui by taking up ballroom dancing. After all, someone taking dancing lessons is hardly unusual nor shocking in western culture; in fact, it would probably be seen as kind of cool. Without the embedded social commentary, this is just another story of an uptight guy trying to cut loose, wasting Gere's touching chemistry with Susan Sarandon as his wife, which makes one wish they were starring in a more straightforward love story. Jennifer Lopez has the moves but not the acting range to pull off the role of the bitter former competitive dancer-turned-instructor; similar touches to make "hip" what should be an unabashedly square story--such as the casting of Nick Cannon in a supporting role and an out-of-nowhere cameo by Ja Rule--more jar than gel. The DVD includes commentary by Chelsom, deleted and extended scenes, a number of behind-the-scenes featurettes and a music video.
Access Bollywood
While Aishwarya Rai is busy announcing herself in the West as a movie star to be reckoned with in BRIDE & PREJUDICE, back home in India, she continues to prove her true acting mettle by gamely taking on challenging roles in sometimes uncommercial projects. RAINCOAT marks her biggest departure to date, and the indifferent reaction at both the Indian and overseas box office reflect that; in fact, the film's theatrical distributor for the Non-Resident Indian market in North America basically gave the film an unusually tiny release, dumping it only on a pair of screens in San Jose, California and New Jersey this past Christmas Eve. While this somber, nuanced, talky, song-and-dance-free drama is just about the across-the-board antithesis of Indian popular filmmaking, it's everything a serious, art-minded cinephile would savor: a moody, expertly-acted and -directed meditation on the realities of love, loneliness, and life.
The man at the helm of RAINCOAT is writer-director Rituparno Ghosh, who previously directed Rai in the 2003 film festival favorite, the Bengali-language A PASSION PLAY: CHOKHER BALI. As in that film, the de-glammed Rai in RAINCOAT is a far cry from the one we're used to seeing in Bollywood musical extravaganzas, but here even more startlingly so. Stripped along with her makeup is any trace of her famous glow, whether through hope, general contentment, or any other source. From the lips of Rai's housewife Neeru spin ornately woven tales of lavish luxury, but her sullen eyes and voice tell another, less fairy tale-ready story. As the truth behind "the game of words" (as the tagline goes) slowly, subtly, reluctantly reveals itself as the film progresses, Rai's beautifully shaded emotional transformation is heartbreaking. Neeru's fellow player in this game is long-lost love Manoj (Ajay Devgan), who shows up on her doorstep one rainy afternoon some six years after their last meeting, which occurred just prior to her wedding. As with Neeru, the intervening years have taken their brutal toll on Manoj, and as the two catch up on each other's lives, the false armor of inviting words both conceal and ultimately confirm the greatest truth shared between them.
And that truth, of course, is love. Through brief but carefully placed flashbacks, we witness those years-ago final moments between Manoj and Neeru, and while one could understandably say that these scenes and, hence, the pair's past relationship are underwritten, Ghosh understands that nothing can speak more about the relationship than what the actors bring to it. This marks the fourth time Devgan and Rai have shared the screen, and here they display the same poignantly understated rapport they lent their first and most celebrated collaboration, 1999's HUM DIL DE CHUKE SANAM. It's not a playful chemistry nor a classically smoldering one, but something more of a consistently-felt, low-key burn that then flares up for some piercing moments. Who knew a line as seemingly innocuous as "I've applied for a car loan" could carry with it all the innocent hope and resigned disappointment of love and life itself?
Devgan's quietly wrenching performance can be described in the same way. While the presence of Rai certainly commands more attention to this small, delicate project than it otherwise would--and she more than justifies it with her performance--Devgan is onscreen from beginning to end, and he doesn't squander the showcase. Emotional desperation is paired with the brooding intensity Devgan has finely honed in his long line of tough guy roles, clearly delineating that this is a man who is not so much a passive victim of life, but one actively defeated by it. This one encounter with Neeru is but another noble, possibly futile attempt to fight against circumstance, however hopeless the chances of true redemption.
As powerful as his leads and the few supporting players are, the one who ends up dominating RAINCOAT is Ghosh, who is in full command of his filmmaking gifts from the opening title sequence. Expertly cut to a haunting love song, beautifully composed by Debajyoti Mishra, movingly performed by Shubha Mudgal, and featuring poetic lyrics by Ghosh himself, the sequence not only traces Manoj's journey from his small village home to the big city of Calcutta but sums up the entire emotional journey of the film. Such attention to detail is reflected in every aspect of the production, from the moody photography to the graceful editing to, most impressively, the production design. Most of the film is devoted to long conversations between Manoj and Neeru in the living room of her house, which is an enigmatic triumph; cluttered with furniture, often lit only by candlelight, it can alternately be read as romantic, run-down, spacious (Ghosh and cinematography get a bit of mileage out of the many angles the space offers them), and suffocating.
If Ghosh's direction places RAINCOAT under the skin, then his writing makes it linger there. The film is remarkably dialogue-heavy, but the words feel and flow naturally and beautifully illuminate the layers of the characters. And while a raincoat--which Manoj borrows from his best friend's wife--literally plays a prominent role in the film, the title has more powerful thematic significance. By film's end, one can conclude that in the monsoon storms of life and love, a flimsy raincoat is perhaps all anyone can realistically hope for, but it is also the most beautiful and valuable gift anyone can give to another. (special thanks to Baba Digital)
Next time...
...more reviews. As always, check out my home site, Mr. Brown's Movie Site, for additional reviews.
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