Films Seen - November 2000

[Pre-'96 films not included.]

TITAN A.E. (38) (dir., Don Bluth / Gary Goldman) With the voices of Matt Damon, Bill Pullman, Nathan Lane, Drew Barrymore [STAR WARS for the Power Rangers set, the opening crawl spoken rather than printed (who wants to read a bunch of old writing?) : "Once in a great while, mankind unlocks a secret so profound...". Animation patchy - we take Disney for granted, but you really see the difference in the (lack of) detail on backgrounds and spaceships - jokes lame, songs atrocious (Green Day wannabes sing "The Cosmic Castaway"), coda stunningly anti-climactic as hero and heroine finally create their own planet and decide to call it "Bob" (no, really). Perversely, the shoddiness works, calling to mind Saturday-morning TV adventure far more poignantly than shinier, more impressive fare (the big-name voice-cast comes as a shock, especially if you didn't recognise any of the voices) : I could feel my inner 10-year-old stirring now and then - though I could've sworn he was far too picky for something like this...]

SCARY MOVIE (45) (dir., Keenen Ivory Wayans) Anna Faris, Shannon Elizabeth, Jon Abrahams, Shawn Wayans [Really wanted to like this one (stay 'in touch' with the masses and so on), and I did for a while - the opening sequence has a number of clever touches, like the heroine gradually shedding clothes (finally scampering in slo-mo through sprays of water in her undies) while pursued by the killer, a sharp comment on the prurient appeal of horror movies. Alas, it sinks into lazy vulgarity, but retains a certain daredevil spirit, and it may well be the year's most perfect teen-demographic movie : one part fart-and-poo jokes, evoking the world of childhood recently left behind ; two parts sex-and-drugs (gay and stoner jokes, the act of sex itself repeatedly lampooned), reflecting all the excitement and insecurity of the new, adult world rapidly approaching ; three parts casual nihilism - callous jokes about homeless people and animal testing, parents and authority figures constantly proving weak and duplicitous - capturing the sense of rebellion and familiar things being overturned. Mix with movie references (SIXTH SENSE, BLAIR WITCH PROJECT, THE USUAL SUSPECTS) for easy consumption, serve in fashionably post-modern glass for added cachet. Basically crap, but it has its moments; better Saturday-night movie than ROAD TRIP, anyway...]

FREQUENCY (52) (dir., Gregory Hoblit) Dennis Quaid, Jim Caviezel, Andre Braugher, Elizabeth Mitchell [Hoblit seems to be where Joel Schumacher meets M. Night Shyamalan (and wishes he were meeting David Fincher) : he adores designer gloom - blacks are needlessly black (i.e. silver-retained) here, the overall tone only marginally lighter than in FALLEN - yet can't resist throwing in flashy tricks, including not one but two elaborately pointless, supposedly 'atmospheric' montages where unrelated objects fall through the air in cross-cut slow motion (all hitting the ground at the same instant). He almost wrecks an irresistible premise, aided and abetted by some over-convenient plotting (notably the unearthed skeleton, calling our hero's attention to the case at just the right moment) - but he's always been lucky with his actors, and finds quiet charisma in both stars' patent sincerity. Starts and finishes poorly - slow to unfold, as if unsure how to spring its sci-fi surprise (finally just deciding the hell with it), ending with a twist that makes no sense followed by a sappy fathers-and-sons montage ; worse, there's not actually any sense of father and son - Quaid could be talking to a stranger, never trying to understand the man inside the little boy he knows and (presumably) loves. Still, the story's strong enough to carry most of it - and I've always been a sucker for these "Twilight Zone"-ish, spanning-Time high-concepts anyway. Hell, I even liked FOREVER YOUNG...]

LOVE AND BASKETBALL (48) (dir., Gina Prince-Bythewood) Omar Epps, Sanaa Lathan, Alfre Woodard, Dennis Haysbert [Mother and daughter in heartfelt, letting-it-all-out exchange : "It never mattered to you if I came to your basketball games or not!" ; "It mattered, Mama ... (pause for stifled sob) ... It mattered". That second "It mattered" typifies why this warm, carefully-observed drama finally comes up short, not to mention overlong (though it may work better if you know and love basketball) ; character flaws are telegraphed, worked through and finally overcome, feelings hurt and forgiveness sought ("I messed up") at regular intervals, and just about everyone gets a Big Speech. Never quite shakes a made-for-TV feel, despite tender moments and general air of low-key sensitivity ; Ms. Lathan - fiery, beautiful and just a good person - is a revelation.]

WHAT LIES BENEATH (59) (dir., Robert Zemeckis) Michelle Pfeiffer, Harrison Ford, Joe Morton, Miranda Otto [Seeing this with an intermission may have helped - made it seem like two separate films, one great, one dreadful. Zemeckis has an unobtrusive eye for the right shot and a knack for including only what's necessary (even the absurd near-drowning in the second half is shot in clean, attractive style), and the first half, taking its cue from Pfeiffer's fragile air of emotional over-acuity, is an expertly crafted jump-out-of-your-seat machine (though one of the biggest shocks owes nothing to ghosts and everything to REAR WINDOW) ; there's even the beginnings of a subtext, in the underlying fear of menopause - it all takes place as Pfeiffer's only daughter leaves for college, closing the chapter on her motherhood years - and subconscious fear of losing out to a younger woman (which she 'becomes' over the course of the movie). It then falls apart, rather laughably ("Proposed suggestion : Exorcism by fire" scribbles Ford neatly in his notebook) but not irredeemably, given the genre : this kind of 'scare' movie works rather like a 'joke' movie, substituting laughs with frissons - structure can be overlooked once it delivers on the jolts. Satisfies, if only on a visceral level ; admittedly had the potential to be more than a 'scare' movie - but you take what you can get these days...]

SPACE COWBOYS (44) (dir., Clint Eastwood) Clint Eastwood, Tommy Lee Jones, Donald Sutherland, James Garner [Eastwood's style radiates dignity and restraint (it's great he doesn't overdo the wife watching and hoping at the climax) ; it's also laid-back to the point of snooziness, which is fine for some subjects - revelling in friendship or community, as intermittently here - but fatal to anything resembling tension or adventure (late Ford might be a good analogy, but at least Ford didn't make THE SEARCHERS in the style of TWO RODE TOGETHER). Lazy plotting - e.g. Sutherland's eye-test - doesn't help, turning muddy in the later stages (why does the Loren Dean character behave so irresponsibly?). The line about our man not being a "team player" gets repeated 3 times in different scenes ; cutesy emphasis on the codgers' libido makes this the SIMON BIRCH of codger movies ; Marcia Gay Harden weeps and applauds in the year's most demeaning role. Not good.]

SHAFT (56) (dir., John Singleton) Samuel L. Jackson, Jeffrey Wright, Christian Bale, Vanessa Williams [Black-and-blue colour scheme ("too black for the uniform, too blue for the brothers," opines Shaft on being a black cop in a racist profession) ; terrific slimeballs in Bale and Wright, their scenes together especially cute ("You're an interesting motherfucker. You got, like, a business card or something?") ; crisply-paced action set to familiar Shaft theme recalls 007, which is fair enough (the original series was more Bond than blaxploitation, esp. the sequels). Only difference is he's much more of a race-warrior than in the relatively sanguine 70s, and it's certainly amusing (in a cruel way) to note how Singleton's developed from "Increase The Peace" idealism in BOYZ N THE HOOD to this hard-bitten cynic, who mistrusts all attempts at racial reconciliation (ethnic-sensitivity workshops? "How 'bout I workshop my foot up your ass?") and prefers vigilante justice over the white man's court system. Only real problem is the plot makes no sense, esp. Bale going to such lengths to hunt down a witness who clearly doesn't intend to testify against him (and has been paid off besides) ; brashly entertaining, nonetheless.]

November 10-19: Attended the Thessaloniki International Film Festival

DANCER IN THE DARK (50) (dir., Lars Von Trier) Bjork, David Morse, Catherine Deneuve, Peter Stormare [Only just occurred to me how Von Trier's jagged style is in fact the visual equivalent of his inarticulate heroines - forever breaking off, unable to express themselves except through a muddled process of trial and error, always bursting at the seams with inchoate feeling. Empathy with the heroine certainly strong (not to say total) here, but it would be nice if she actually stood for something beyond Innocence Destroyed (though everyone's actually very kind to her, which is probably the film's most effective aspect) : nothing much seems to be at stake - certainly not the spiritual questions of BREAKING THE WAVES - which devalues her suffering, especially since Von Trier seems determined to explode any sense of dramatic plausibility. The boy's mystery illness, treatable only before his 13th birthday and made worse by worry (don't worry him by telling him about it, pleads self-sacrificing heroine from her prison cell ; wouldn't he be worried anyway, what with his mom in jail and all?), is clearly a contrivance, impossible to take seriously, and you have to wonder why our girl doesn't put her glasses on when she suspects there's an intruder in the house, or why they bothered with a line about Selma having to play Maria without the glasses when she actually keeps them on and still can't see the stage (just shambolic continuity, or deliberate perversity?). The song numbers are equally bizarre, seemingly designed to short-circuit involvement - ugly jump-cuts and cacophonously-framed shots with half the people dancing and the other half going about their business (very much the opposite of Hollywood musicals, with their frames full of synchronous movement) - yet also dropping references, like the bit of SEVEN BRIDES in "I've Seen It All", as if intended as a homage. Is it deliberately contradictory, or just poorly done? And is there meant to be some connection between musicals - where people dance as one, and there's always "someone there to catch you if you fall" - and the precepts of Communism, or are the many (gratuitous) references to Selma's politics mere America-bashing? A misshapen, clumsy movie, either a fairytale or made with shocking contempt for its audience ; I'd be more inclined to go with the former option if the thing actually worked for me emotionally...]

CROUCHING TIGER, HIDDEN DRAGON (64) (dir., Ang Lee) Chow Yun-Fat, Michelle Yeoh, Zhang Ziyi [Why is no-one else seeing a massive paean to so-called "Asian values" (viz. the guiding virtues of tradition and conformity) in this tale of discipline-vs-passion, contrasting the older warriors - who fight by the rules, and keep their feelings firmly in check - with young Jen, whose constant philosophy is "I do what I want"? Almost certainly because this message is the genre's rather than the film's per se, ingrained in the wuxia world of masters and acolytes, and highly stylised fighting moves based on ancient teachings - a world (and genre) I'm relatively unfamiliar with, which may also be why I find some of the moves (notably the wire effects and gravity-free balletic soaring) profoundly silly. The film, a fan's fond homage, has the feel of a Greatest Hits compendium, which takes a little getting used to - takes its time with the exposition then shifts between its various strands, including what must be the longest flashback since ROMY AND MICHELE'S HIGH SCHOOL REUNION ; really works once you get into it though, sumptuously filmed and occupying a rich middle ground between the kick-ass and yearningly romantic (the ending isn't a million miles from THE ENGLISH PATIENT!). Could've been tighter, but it works both for aficionados and rank beginners ; and in Zhang Ziyi a star is born.]

ROAD TRIP (43) (dir., Todd Phillips) Breckin Meyer, Tom Green, Seann William Scott, DJ Qualls [There's that amiable AMERICAN PIE thing where the horny teens aren't so much prurient as pathetic ("Josh, please : we need this," implores one, lobbying for a peek at a real-sex video). There's Tom Green's genuinely offbeat persona ("We're having a good time"). Once it hits the road, though, it loses all momentum, turns into a slack, flaccid string of ribald anecdotes, some funnier than others. Liked the student complaining that "Men are perverted pigs : all they think about is sex!" - especially given that she's topless at the time, and the scene's taking place in the girls' locker room ; or maybe it's just because that was the only joke that wasn't already in the trailer...]

THE KID (33) (dir., Jon Turteltaub) Bruce Willis, Spencer Breslin, Lily Tomlin, Emily Mortimer [I'm dispensing with the DISNEY'S prefix here (I think we can all agree this isn't Chaplin). Nothing really worked for me : first up, I didn't think the Willis character was such an unpleasant human being, let alone a "loser" - I can think of worse jobs than bossing rich people around and getting paid for it (are we really supposed to nod along with his assistant when she berates his publicity stunt on behalf of a client as "exploiting innocent children to help some crook"? since when do Hollywood movies take such a high moral line on marketing tricks, anyway?) ; second, I cringed at the psychobabbly connect-the-dots methodology, 'showing' us how he became bossy as a defence mechanism against childhood insecurities, rejects self-pity because he used to hate himself but has now 'moved on' etc. etc. ; third, I didn't laugh at the kid being obnoxious and Bruce looking exasperated ; fourth, I suffered through a steady stream of yeah-right moments (wouldn't Bruce instantly recognise his childhood self? how does the kid find the restaurant where our hero's power-lunching? who takes off down the street in his pyjamas in the middle of the night in pursuit of some strange kid, anyway?) ; fifth, I found the time-travel angle woefully underused, and the news-anchor-as-deus (dea?)-ex-machina angle beneath contempt ; in a word, it never connected. That said, the surprise ending nearly made me despise myself by choking up, and Lily Tomlin intermittently saves it, bearing news of some other, more acrid movie ; wish I'd seen that one instead...]

THE CARRIERS ARE WAITING (54) (dir., Benoit Mariage) Benoit Poelvoorde, Morgane Simon, Bouli Lanners [Sorry, it's gone ... Stayed with this for a very enjoyable hour or so, but the final third - once we reach the hospital, basically - fades away to nothing ; a few weeks later, the whole thing seems to have evaporated. Conformity's obviously the theme - conveyor belts, rows of identical houses, a classroom full of kids declaiming in unison, Michel scouring films for continuity errors - hence the plot about record-breaking (trying to stand out) and a lovely shot of birds in flight (trying to escape). Deadpan quirkiness, lots of nice detail - I'm trying to like it, truly I am. Or at least remember it...