Films Seen - November 1999

(Older movies not included)

THE GENERAL'S DAUGHTER (18) (dir., Simon West) John Travolta, Madeleine Stowe, James Cromwell, James Woods [Theme is the hollow mystique of soldiering (even the opening credits appear surname-first, military-style) : military poster in the victim's house turns out to be a facade, a false wall concealing an S+M chamber - just as military machismo conceals ugliness and violence. The film uses women in the military (an Important Issue) to give itself respectability, just as it uses Patricia Cornwell-type forensic detail to make itself gritty and realistic - but it has little to say on that or any other Issue, and there's nothing realistic about its grindingly mechanical plotting and cheap, manufactured twists (the killer's identity especially ludicrous, an out-of-nowhere twist that's entirely meaningless except insofar as it makes the film 'unpredictable'). It no doubt likes to think of itself as a slick, satisfying thriller, the equivalent of an airport bestseller ; in fact it's nasty, sensationalist tripe, and badly-made into the bargain. Should be qualified, however - like so many rotten movies - with the words "James Woods, as ever, is compulsively watchable."]

THE 13TH WARRIOR (40) (dir., John McTiernan) Antonio Banderas, Diane Venora, Dennis Storhoi, Omar Sharif [Remarkably sloppy, no doubt the result of having been shot by one director then extensively re-shot by another : no explanation given for our hero's easy acceptance by the Vikings, and the scene where he learns their entire language in one night (just by listening really hard) is some kind of bad-movie classic. Rather likeable nonetheless, partly because of Banderas - bringing his usual humour and understatement to the party - partly because of the spectacle of unabashed alpha-male behaviour, big hairy guys swilling mead from animal horns, indulging in deeply unhygienic personal habits and laughing big, hearty Viking laughs in the face of Death. Reminiscent of an old-fashioned Western, with the savage "Eaters Of The Dead" not unlike the spear-throwing Red Indians of yore (right down to the way they immediately scatter once you kill their Chief) ; unsuccessful though, the three set-piece battles (why so many?) in the second half increasingly perfunctory, as if everyone involved had gradually lost interest. Even the Eaters Of The Dead turn out to be just a bunch of guys in bear suits.]

THE SIXTH SENSE (53) (dir., M. Night Shyamalan) Bruce Willis, Haley Joel Osment, Toni Collette, Olivia Williams [Three problems : (a) saw it in the middle of a festival, so its lowest-common-denominator details (Willis' wife reading out his plaque for the benefit of morons in the audience : "Dr. Malcolm Crowe - that's you") stood out more than they should've ; (b) saw it on a double-bill with BLAIR WITCH PROJECT, which left it standing for emotional force ; (c) went in already knowing the final twist (a moment of weakness while browsing Usenet), so that everything onscreen seemed a little gimmicky, elaborately contrived to fit the ending (it's a bit like that Georges Perec novel that's written entirely without using the letter "e"). For the record, what we see doesn't actually cheat, though the notion of our hero going through the day - every day, for months on end - never having even the most basic conversation with his wife, and putting it down to their having "drifted apart", is obviously ridiculous (other questions : why do the ghosts ask for help if they don't know they're dead? why does the kid allow Willis to approach him in the first place?). No idea how it would look to someone not distracted by the ending, though - kind of atmospheric in a bare-bones way, probably a bit thin and wistful ; certainly low-key, incredibly introverted, and the unlikeliest blockbuster in many years. Probably since GHOST, in fact...]

GHOST DOG (61) (dir., Jim Jarmusch) Forest Whitaker, John Tormey, Cliff Gorman, Henry Silva [Jarmusch in low gear - material lets him down, though his instincts remain among the best in the business : the way he stays on minor characters after the hero's left them (even if they don't do anything, it gives them a life of their own), the details like Henry Silva watching old cartoons on TV, or the Flavor-Flav-loving Mafioso, or the "Way Of The Samurai" interspersing beauty tips among its weighty philosophies. Like all his films it celebrates diversity and cultural difference (there always seems to be at least one immigrant among the characters), but it gets repetitive, and doesn't make the leap to a higher plane at the end the way DEAD MAN did at the Indian village. Plus, for this viewer, Ghost Dog cruising the streets listening to RZA's loose-limbed rap on his state-of-the-art CD player comes perilously close to posturing ; sometimes cool can be too cool.

BIG DADDY (26) (dir., Dennis Dugan) Adam Sandler, Joey Lauren Adams, Rob Schneider [What's interesting is the way Sandler consistently aligns himself with the downtrodden and / or non-mainstream - homeless folk, illegal aliens, not to mention the gratuitous gay couple - while giving his character the kind of traits (slobbishness, macho love of sports, an incongruously violent temper) that endear him to the frat-boy crowd : he's like a Trojan Horse for kinder, gentler values. What's not so interesting is, um, everything else, from plot (non-existent) to jokes (crude, primitive). Dreadfully lazy ending, too.]

THE HAUNTING (9) (dir., Jan de Bont) Lili Taylor, Liam Neeson, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Owen Wilson [Another "Theo" character (see also Instinct), another dud. Can I jinx them or what? This is really bad, probably the worst blockbuster since BATMAN AND ROBIN - even the set-up, Neeson's "controlled experiment", doesn't make sense (was he planning just to tell them the house was haunted and hope they believed him?) ; too awful even to be funny, except maybe when the cherubs gasp and when Neeson laughs like an indulgent parent and says, "All right you two, enough about pharmaceuticals". Still, somewhere there's a gang of geeky 14-year-olds who shoot home-made CGI-fests in their backyard and argue passionately over this movie ; I dedicate this review to them, and hope they'll remember me when they become zillionaires someday.]

BOWFINGER (47) (dir., Frank Oz) Steve Martin, Eddie Murphy, Heather Graham, Christine Baranski [Kind of laboured, maybe because it spends more energy on edge-of-the-frame gags (like the posters for movies with titles like "Muffy Time" and "Explicit Endeavor") than it does on its main plot, which never really builds on its ingenious premise. Plus it wrecks many of its best jokes through over-obviousness (like Martin and Graham telling each other "I'll never use you" after doing precisely that) and overdoes the beautiful-loser, little-guys-in-the-big- System affection (basically a variation on the old no-business-like-show-business cliché, in which impecunious actors conceal hearts of gold behind tart tongues) - Martin's far too kind to the title-character, giving him little moments of pathos and self-doubt, trying to justify him ; ED WOOD showed it's possible to suggest pathological self-delusion and still be affectionate. Murphy is hilarious, though.