Dark and Darko
Movies from seen in late 2002
Originally written: December 2002
The Cat's Meow
Donnie Darko
My Big Fat Greek Wedding
Banger Sisters
Crackerjack
Road to Perdition
K-19: The Widowmaker
Me and Mrs Jones
So here we are in the post-'summer', pre-fantasy season, awaiting the arrival of Harry and Frodo and James Bond, as well as the Oscar contenders from Scorsese and Spielberg (both featuring Leonardo DeCaprio) and whatever 'serious' films the Yanks have that they'll put into limited release on the coasts to qualify for awards (The Quiet American and Frida, among others). A very few jewels have shone through the muck of late: a few independent or smaller films that are not action spectacles or orifice comedies. We found three good'uns in the last few months, plus a couple of OK studio entries. However, there is no evidence to suggest that 2002 is anything other than the worst year ever for studio film-making.
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There are all sorts of rumors around Hollywood about the famous affairs (de jure and de facto) in its history. Particularly the ones between moguls and actresses. Joseph Kennedy and Gloria Swanson were a cause celebre in their day. Two of his sons were alleged to have had relations with Marilyn Monroe. Herbert Yates, the head of Republic Pictures, tried for years to make a star of his main squeeze, Vera Hruba Ralston.
But the grand-daddy of them all was William Randolph Hearst's long-time affair with Marion Davies. She was a talented comedienne whom Hearst tried to make into a dramatic star. He was a newspaper tycoon whose influence was exaggerated by the absence of alternate news sources. (He was once supposed to have sent a photographer to Latin America to get pictures of the putative Spanish-American War. When advised by his employee that there was no war, he telegraphed: "You supply the pictures. I'll supply the war". And he did: remember the Maine?) Orson Welles used the Davies affair as a central theme of his fictionalised biography of Hearst, even to the extent that Citizen Kane's dying word was, apparently, Hearst's pet name for Davies' map of Tasmania. Their real-life Xanadu, San Simeon, annually attracts thousands of visitors, who stop on the drive up and/or down Pacific Coast Highway One to view Hearst's magnificent obsession.
Part of the Hearst-Davies legend centres around the death in 1924 of the producer Thomas Ince. Rumor persist that he died as a result of events that took place during a weekend on Hearst's yacht. It is that rumor which Peter Bogdanovich's The Cat's Meow uses as its starting point. Bogdanovich, the boy wonder of the 1970s, when he made The Last Picture Show and What's Up Doc?, has for once in a long time got a decent enough script, adapted by Steven Peros from his own play, and he develops a light and fluffy concoction where the line between fantasy and reality seems non-existent. As it should be when dealing with creatures of classic Hollywood myth.
The McGuffin is that, at a party for Ince on Hearst's yacht, Charlie Chaplin makes a play for Davies, an idea which appals the jealous Hearst and which Ince exploits to try and get the magnate to underwrite his studio. This is observed by Louella Parsons, one of Hearst's journalists, and narrated by Elinor Glyn, the novelist-turned-screenwriter. The central roles are essayed by Edward Herrmann, Kirsten Dunst and Eddie Izzard. The latter, a British comedian with limited film experience, looks right in the part, except for the fact that he has none of Chaplin's elegance and balance. And his Chaplin is strangely humourless. Herrmann's Hearst tends towards the morose and lugubrious but you see enough of twinkle behind the eyes to keep the character sympathetic. Dunst confirms yet again that, with Reese Witherspoon, she is the best of the younger set. Her Marion Davies is wonderful and charismatic. She looks the part and you begin to understand how the glamorous Davies may have beguiled Hearst to the extent that she was his mistress for the last twenty years of his life.
Dunst is matched by two great supporting performances from Jennifer Tilly as the not-so-dumb "Lolly" Parsons (who 15 years later helped Hearst cripple Citizen Kane at the box office) and Joanna Lumley as the all-knowing Glyn. The only truly bad performance is from Cary Elwes, no longer really recognisable as The Princess Bride's Wesley, who plays a strangely unsympathetic Ince.
The Cat's Meow is an interesting period piece, more interesting perhaps for the historian of film and popular culture who can recognise many of the in-jokes (for example Chaplin spends much of the movie trying to work out how to play a famous scene from The Gold Rush), with some fun performances. It is a diversion and a reasonably pleasant one.
Time and again
Every so often you go along to a movie you've heard a little about, which hasn't had a great fanfare, and is playing in a limited number of cinemas. And something about the movie clicks with you. Donnie Darko is such a movie. I'm not sure I understand it even now but I know I loved it and it is one of those movies we'll end up owning on video or DVD. Maybe after the third or eighth playing I'll pretend to know what it's about. As it is I recommend it as a movie to be experienced, even if not understood - which should appeal to SF and fantasy readers.
In fact, there are many elements of science fantasy or urban fantasy in the movie. The eponymous character is a teenager who is suffering from some mental disease, probably a form of schizophrenia. Played by Jake Gyllenhaal (note that name you'll be hearing it often in the next few years), Donnie is being haunted by an oversized and evil-looking rabbit named Frank who, at the start of the movie, calls Donnie out of his house. During this nocturnal excursion, the engine off a 747 falls through his room; only his sleep-walking has saved him. But Frank also tells him that there are but 28 days to the end of the world. From Donnie's miraculous survival, and his sense of impending doom, flows the narrative that develops.
The movie is rich in both characters and incidents and it would be futile to try and explain what happens and to whom. Suffice it to say that, among others, there are Drew Barrymore (who also executive produced the movie) and Noah Wyle as teachers; there is a time travel mystery centred around a centenarian neighbor; there is delightful subplot involving a health teacher and her guru, played with smarmy charm by Patrick Swayze; a love interest for Donnie, played by Jena Malone; and a number of scenes with his increasingly alarmed shrink, played beautifully by Katherine Ross (who a generation or more ago was the love interest in The Graduate and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid).
Written and directed by Richard Kelly, his first venture in either role, Donnie Darko manages to carry the mystery and the intrigue through to a satisfying ending which doesn't immediately answer all the questions posed in the movie but provides the viewer with a basis for coming to his own conclusion as to what is was about and what it is intended to mean. But getting there is all the fun.
Greek is good
Nia Vardalos is a Greek-American comedienne who turned her love life into a one woman show. Fortunately she has been able to adapt it herself and star in the fictionalised version of her life made into a script. The result is My Big Fat Greek Wedding, a very good, surprisingly good, ethnic comedy. The best thing about the film is that it humorously exploits a simple narrative, with a well-known story arc: the plain Jane daughter of overly protective parents starts to blossom when given some freedom and when she finds a suitor. The fact that he is from another culture, in this case the mainstream culture, leads to a number of humorous situations which can be exploited both for the boisterousness of her Greek relatives and the taciturnity of his Anglo-Celtic family.
Vardalos is ably assisted by a cast of ethnic types, some of whom may even be Greek. It doesn't matter because what they are playing is basically the loud ethnic. So there's Michael Constantine as her hyper-Hellenic father who believes that Windex is a panacea (leading naturally to great product placement and associated marketing opportunities); Lainie Kazan (she was a Jewish mother with a Filipino husband in My Favourite Year) is the mum; Andrea Martin is the aunt; Joey Fatone (apparently a member of a boys band) is a cousin; and a couple of Australians even make the family: Gia Caridies and Louis Mandylor have featured roles. John Corbett (Chris-in-the-morning from Northern Exposure) has his best role in some time as the husband-to-be.
There are some great stories in film-making. On one side you have the studio film made for a hundred or more millions that flops completely (most seem to star Kevin Costner); on t'other, there's My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Nia Vardalos' stage show was seen by Rita Wilson who told her husband, Tom Hanks. And they got this movie made ... for about $US5 millions. At last count it had made over $200 millions in US box office gross. That's over $50 millions to the producers, a nice 1000% earner. And it's quite a good and funny little movie as well. Maybe not as good as Bend It Like Beckham, to which it has some similarities, but an entertaining night at the movies.
On the road again
Watching The Banger Sisters brought to mind three thoughts, each centred on one of the main characters. There is Goldie Hawn playing Suzette, a rock groupie who's grown old but hasn't grown up; to what extent was she just an adult version of Penny Lane, the 'Band Aid' in Almost Famous played by Goldie's own daughter, Kate Hudson? Then there is Susan Sarandon's Lavinia who could be an older version of Geena Davis' character from Thelma and Louise, with Goldie playing the older version of Sarandon's character, a will-of-the-wisp bringing liberation through enjoyment. And Geoffrey Rush maintains a good new Aussie tradition of being the third wheel in a road movie, and stealing a road movie from the more famous stars, just as Cate Blanchett did to Willis and Thornton in Bandits. As a whole, The Banger Sisters is something less than the sum of its parts. I really liked Sarandon and Rush as the tied-down bourgeois unable properly to enjoy life until Suzette comes (back) into their lives, spreading her twinkle dust. On the other hand, Goldie looks like a wax model of her younger self, aged without that ageing being reflected in her face. The hands give it away but the face, with the collagen lips and the nips and tucks, is not the face of the reality of a 50+ ex-Banger Sister. On the other other hand, I liked the two younger actors playing Lavinia's daughters, Erika Christensen and Eva Amurri (the latter apparently Sarandon's daughter from a pre-Tim Robbins relationship).
Briefly, the story goes like this: Lavinia and Suzette were groupies in the seventies who banged any rock star they could find (and a few roadies). Lavinia has become a very middle-class lawyer's wife and mother of two spoiled brats in Phoenix; Suzette still works behind the bar in a rock venue in LA. When she's fired, she decides to visit her old pal: perhaps to mulct some money; perhaps to relive the old days. On the road, she picks up Harry, a failed screenwriter, with a more than usual set of neuroses, and an animus against his father. There are some good scenes; quite a few laughs; and some drama. Essentially, and predictably, Suzette's magic wand frees Lavinia and Harry from their respective cages, and she rides off into the sunset for her next adventure, like an aging rock-groupie Lassie or Lone Ranger. Written and directed by Bob Dolman, The Banger Sisters has few surprises but is an enjoyable romp.
Taking the mickey
Crackerjack is another pretty good movie that follows a reasonably predictable story arc. Mick Molloy's Jack is a grifter who has been using an inner-city lawn bowls' club car-park as an income supplement. As a member, he has access to a number of parking spaces which he sublets at exorbitant prices. But the club is failing and an even more avaricious exploiter, Bernie, is moving in to take it over and convert it into a pokie palace. Once Jack is conned into helping the old guys save the day, by joining them in a quest to win the bowls tournament with a large prize, the story is almost on auto-pilot. There are the fish-out-of-water scenes with young Jack contrasted with his older bowling mates (especially Bill Hunter and Frank Wilson); there's Bernie, nicely underplayed by The Games' John Clarke, doing his best to sabotage all the club's efforts; and the obligatory love interest, essayed on this occasion by Judith Lucy, whose rough charm does not immediately suggest itself for the role.
The end result is a gentle movie that is far less confronting and, strangely, far less overtly funny than you would expect. Some of the older actors, especially Hunter, Monica Maugham and Lois Ramsey, show the younger brigade a bit about how it's done. It's a pleasure to see them working and, if only for getting them back in harness, Molloy deserves some kudos for the film.
Hanks for the memory
Sam Mendes, the British stage director, made his film directorial debut with American Beauty. Road to Perdition, partly based on real gangsters and derived from a 'graphic novel', is a movie in which there are few, if any, sympathetic characters. Tom Hanks has the central role as Michael Sullivan, a mob enforcer, who is loyal, almost beyond comprehension, to his mentor, John Rooney (Paul Newman). Events lead to Sullivan needing to flee, together with is elder son, from Rooney and his weak, vicious, son, Connor. From that point, indeed from the start of the movie, there is a certain inevitability about the plot line. Some interesting side characters are introduced - Stanley Tucci as Frank Nitti, Capone's successor as mob boss in Chicago, and Jude Law as a hitman with an interesting side-trade in post-mortem photography - but the main story arc sets Sullivan and son against Rooney and son, with inevitable results.
I have to note is that the movie is photographed beautifully, by Conrad Hall, and cut incredibly well by Jill Bilcock (the Australian editor who did a great job on Moulin Rouge). Paul Newman is exceptionally good as the crime boss who understands the consequences of his actions but who places family before all other loyalties. Daniel Craig does a good job as his weak son and Jude Law provides an interesting cameo. The real problem with the film is with the central role. The original concept appears to be that the Hanks character would be a morally corrupt one, but they couldn't quite bring themselves to do it. So, bit by bit, the character is made more noble and even heroic, starting with his loyalty to his own son (what is a sin in Rooney is a strength in Sullivan) and expanded through the film. This unresolved central dilemma derogates from the success of the movie. No matter how well acted, written and shot, there is a weakness at the heart of the film. What could have been a great film becomes instead an OK one. There are still some exceptionally strong elements to the movie but it could have been so much better.
Sub standard
K19 - The Widowmaker is one of the most unwieldy titles you could imagine. It's like they couldn't decide which to use. "K19 sounds like a spy film or something; and The Widowmaker like a serial killer or whatever. Let's use both." The film itself is just as unwieldy as the title. The eponymous character is a submarine, the latest addition to the Russian nuclear fleet in the early 1960s. The Commisars are determined to have a shakedown cruise even if it isn't ready, just to scare the Americans. Liam Neeson is the nice captain of the boat; Harrison Ford is the nasty captain placed over him by the Party to make sure that K19 sails and performs up to scratch. Somewhere at sea, there's an accident with the reactor and heated clashes between Ford and Neeson. Generally I am a sucker for submarine movies but this one makes no sense, either in the story or in the characters; the historical background is skimped; and the odds are stacked too much against the sailors. Yes, it's based on a real incident from the 1960s but couldn't they have made it believable?
Romancing the PM
The British have perfected the political story. Austrlains rarely try it and the Yanks generally stuff it up (with Dave and Wag the Dog being recent honorable exceptions and The West Wing the best agument against my case). But think of the Poms: House of Cards (and its sequels), A Very British Coup and The Politician's Wife are recent examples of British political telemovies or mini-series. Me and Mrs Jones is the latest essay in the genre, shown recently on our ABC. The basic story: a gossip columnist is asked to dish dirt on a female PM during an up-coming election campaign; instead they fall in love, with predictable complications. Catherine Goodall is excellent as the PM and is well matched by Robson Green (Tony Hill in the Wire in the Blood series based on Val McDermid's books). As would be expected in such a British political story, the supporting cast is uniformly excellent, the script is tight and well-written; and the direction is good.
If you have a chance to see this telemovie, take it.
[Note: Information about the movies mentioned, including cast and crew lists and all sorts of trivia, is available at the Internet Movie Database (IMDb).]