A rather glum, halfway interesting film, about a single man (William Hurt) living and working as a postmaster in a tiny Welsh village who decides to adopt a ten-year-old boya recalcitrant youngster who still reserves all his emotional loyalty for his real father in prison. Directed by former cinematographer Chris Menges from a script by David Cook adapting his own novel, this is impressive mainly for Hurt’s finely shaded and wholly committed performance. With Keith Allen (also fine as the boy), Prunella Scales, Jane Horrocks (Life Is Sweet), and Alan Cumming. (JR) Read more
This stunning 1994 debut by writer-director Darnell Martin was the first movie by a woman from a ghetto background to be produced by a major studio. A raucous comedy-drama about a volatile Latino couple trying to raise their three kids and stay out of troublewith the world and with each otherin a Bronx ghetto, it manages a truce between Hollywood pizzazz and authenticity while positively jumping with energy (though it runs out of steam a little before the end). The charismatic heroine, played by Lauren Veleza mulatto, like Martingoes after a job with a recording executive (Griffin Dunne) after her husband (Jon Seda) tries to steal a stereo and winds up in jail; among the other characters are her brother (Jesse Borrego), who’s a transvestite botanica owner, and her downstairs neighbor and worst enemy (Lisa Vidal), who’s an unwed mother trying to wangle away her husband. (Rita Moreno also does a delightful turn as her disapproving mother-in-law.) While keeping up a frenetic pace, the movie manages to speak thoughtfully about parenting, marital sex problems, jealousy, gossip, lotteries, record promotion, inner-city crime, and homophobia. It’s not common to find so much bombast and wisdom coexisting, but from the evidence offered here Darnell Martin is an uncommon talentoffering an eyeful as well as an earful. Read more
A charming black-and-white fantasy by Tim Burton about the late Edward D. Wood Jr., a writer-director-actor at the lowest reaches of 50s Z-budget filmmaking, recently accorded cult pantheon status by virtue of his eccentric personality (he was a straight transvestite) and his very personal form of ineptness. Suggested by Rudolph Grey’s oral history Nightmare of Ecstasy, the movie concentrates on the time period during which Wood’s three best-known works (Glen or Glenda?, Bride of the Monster, and Plan 9 From Outer Space) were made; these efforts are all treated as holy writ, but the man himself, despite Johnny Depp’s best efforts to convey Wood’s greenhorn enthusiasm, remains elusive. Such a project requires remembering a time when camp (as an attitude of affection as well as derision) wasn’t yet part of the mainstream sensibility, and this is clearly beyond the range of Burton and writers Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski. They opt instead for a sort of pie-eyed postmodernist fancy that in effect transports today’s audience back to the 50s–it’s derisive at a premiere of Bride of the Monster, respectful at a premiere of Plan 9 (absurdly set in Hollywood’s plush Pantages Theater)–in a way that magically transforms a singularly miserable and abject career ending in alcoholism and indigence into the feel-good movie of the year, budgeted for a cool $18 million and radiating tenderness (at least for the guys in the story; nearly all the women are regarded as betrayers and spoilsports). Read more
I can’t vouch for the first 22 editions of the Chicago International Film Festival, but the 30th threatens to be the best since I moved to this town in 1987. Much of the usual fat and filler has been trimmed away, and the selections this year are unusually thoughtful and judicious (thanks in large measure to the efforts of coprogrammer Marc Evans, who knew where to look). Happily, there’s more attention given to older films, and the overall spread of films promises a veritable bounty to anyone ready to take the plunge.
This presupposes in many cases a pretty hefty commitment–taking a whole day (or much of one) during one of the busiest seasons of the year–but the payoff is experiencing something not generally available in an ordinary night at the movies. Regrettably, even many of my more serious colleagues have been forsaking such adventures at the film festivals in Cannes, Toronto, and New York, focusing instead on the same big commercial releases you’ve been hearing about for months. But here’s your chance to delve into riches never dreamed of in Entertainment Weekly. Having seen exactly half of the 118 separate programs being offered, I can testify that at least 40 of the features are well worth seeing and perhaps a dozen fall under the category of essential viewing. Read more
Marisa Tomei and Robert Downey Jr. meet cute in Italy (1994), allowing the filmmakers (screenwriter Diane Drake, director Norman Jewison) to allude at length to Roman Holiday and letting Downey do an excellent Gregory Peck impersonation. Tomei, engaged to a podiatrist, runs off to Italy after a stranger; her sister-in-law (a likable performance by Bonnie Hunt) comes along for the ride, and Downey tries to cultivate Tomei’s impractical romanticism. Silly stuff, but it passes the time and the locations are nice; just don’t expect anything like Billy Wilder’s Avanti! With Joaquim De Almeida, Fisher Stevens, and Billy Zane. (JR) Read more
Another silly explosion movie (1994), this one hatching revenge plots under every bush in Miami. Sharon Stone (here in her va-va-voom mode) hires loner explosives expert Sylvester Stallone to blow up the killers of her parents. Stallone’s former CIA buddy James Woods (a villain out of The Perils of Pauline, now working for the mob and abusing Stone in his spare time) seeks revenge against Stallone for punching him out. Stallone has it in for Woods for allowing a little girl to get blown up in one of their former team efforts. And Rod Steiger, enjoyably overplaying a Cuban American crime boss, wants to catch the killer of his terminally obnoxious son (Eric Roberts). Oh yes, and Stallone wants to beat up an unrelated character because he steals a seat on a bus from a middle-aged woman, and Woods takes pleasure in insulting and humiliating everyone in sight. If campy sex and violence is your cup of tea, here’s a full thermos jug to take on a picnic. Written by Alexandra Seros (Point of No Return) and directed by Luis Llosa (Sniper). (JR) Read more
Albert Brooks plays a baseball scout down on his luck who discovers a new baseball sensation in Mexico (Brendan Fraser), great at batting and pitching but more than a little dysfunctional at everything else. An uneasy father-son relationship develops between the two. A bewildering misfire unworthy of Brooks’s own films (though he contributed to the script with Andrew Bergman, as did his own usual script collaborator, Monica Johnson), but reasonably funny and quirky if expectations are lowered. Some continuity problems (e.g., a date for the baseball hero who appears out of nowhere) suggest a certain amount of studio interference. Michael Ritchie directed, and the story was suggested by an article by the New Yorker’s Roger Angell; with Dianne Wiest, Anne Twomey, Lane Smith, and a heap of cameos, including Bob Costas and Tony Bennett. (JR) Read more
At the time reportedly the cheapest American independent feature ever to be shown at Sundance (it cost less than $28,000), this raunchy 1994 black-and-white comedy by Kevin Smith (Chasing Amy) follows a day in the life of a beleaguered New Jersey convenience store clerk whose best friend (Jeff Anderson in a neat debut performance) operates the adjoining video-rental outlet. Most of the film’s prodigious energy is verbalscuzzy gross-out humor involving the customers and the sex lives of the two heroes and their girlfriendsand if not all the gags work, the overall irreverence and all-American anomie are fairly contagious. 89 min. (JR) Read more
For once, John Ford gave his black company player Woody Strode a starring title role as a cavalry officer being tried for the rape of a white woman and a double murder. Told mainly in flashbacks, this effective if slightly overlong western thriller (1960) represents one of Ford’s late efforts to treat minority members with more respect than westerns usually did (Cheyenne Autumn was another), and Strode takes full advantage of the opportunity. With Jeffrey Hunter, Constance Towers, and Billie Burke. 111 min. (JR) Read more
This fictionalized English documentary (1994) sounds a bit better than it plays, though I was fascinated by all the historical details. It consists of documentary footage of London shot by art teacher and former architect Patrick Keiller and commentary by an unseen fictional narrator (Paul Scofield) returning to London after a seven-year absence, who describes various extensive walking tours taken with a former male lover named Robinson, also unseen. The narration offers fanciful, surrealistic interpretations of what we’re seeing as well as hard facts and caustic remarks about the Tory government. Quite effective as a melancholy travelogue (Keiller has an eye as well as a mind), the film has less substance as fiction. In some ways it suggests an anglicized Chris Marker, with the filmmaker fictionalized and distanced through a separate narrator (as in Sans Soleil). 85 min. (JR) Read more
For all my admiration for Victor Erice’s first two features (Spirit of the Beehive and El sur), I wasn’t entirely won over by this meticulous 139-minute documentary (1992) about artist Antonio Lopez Garcia painting a small quince tree in a Madrid courtyard, even though many of my smartest colleagues were bowled over by it (the Chicago International Film Festival awarded it a Gold Hugo). Like the painter, it’s painstakingly serious about what it’s up to. Also known as The Quince Tree Sun. In Spanish with subtitles. (JR) Read more
Argentinean filmmaker Maria Luisa Bemberg’s 1993 adaptation, with Jorge Goldenberg, of an original story by Julio Llinas in some ways resembles an anecdote by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. A wealthy widow living in a remote town in the 30s denies that her daughter and only child , whom she raises with loving care, is a dwarf, and a recently arrived stranger (Marcello Mastroianni) who befriends the mother falls desperately in love with the daughter and wants to marry her. Rather than play this premise for black comedy, Bemberg fashions a delicate and mysterious film, with both the strengths and limitations of an evocative short story. The characters are all nicely played (Luisina Brando is especially good as the mother), but we know only enough about them for the tale to function as a parable; if we want to understand them as people, we’re left somewhat dissatisfied. (JR) Read more
Seventy-odd minutes of lush, deep-sea ‘Scope cinematography by French filmmaker Luc Besson (La femme Nikita), shot all over the world (1991). Though preceded by some brief, ponderous narration in English and parceled out with some dubious thematic titles that often seem either anthropomorphic (tenderness, love, hate) or arbitrary (mind, rhythm, spirit), the eye-filling visuals of diverse sea creatures are mainly allowed to speak for themselves. (Happily, the creatures and locations aren’t identified until the closing credits.) At its best this contemplative documentary recalls some of the drifting outer-space segments of 2001: A Space Odyssey, though without Kubrick’s exquisite sense of structure; at its worst it’s a New Age variant on Fantasia with an undistinguished score by Eric Serra. (At one point sea snakes are seen copulating to a disco beat.) (JR) Read more
An immensely charming and energetic comedy (1994, 97 min.) by Wong Kar-wai, one of the most exciting and original contemporary Hong Kong filmmakers. Though less ambitious than Days of Being Wild (1990) or Ashes of Time (1994) and less hyperbolic than Fallen Angel (1995), this provides an ideal introduction to his work. Both of its two stories are set in present-day Hong Kong and deal poignantly with young policemen striving to get over unsuccessful romantic relationships and having unconventional encounters with women (a mob assassin and an infatuated fast-food waitress respectively). Wong’s singular frenetic visual style and his special feeling for lonely romantics may remind you of certain French New Wave directors, but this movie isn’t a trip down memory lane; it’s a vibrant commentary on young love today, packed with punch and personality. In Cantonese and Mandarin with subtitles. (JR) Read more
Jean-Luc Godard’s most spiritual film is also his most opaque (1991). But the beauty of his work is often breathtaking, and I’d rather hear Godard talking to himself than Spielberg speaking to half the planet. Two principal points of reference are Giacomo Leopardi (1798-1837) and the Greek myth about Zeus impersonating and cuckolding Amphitryon, as treated by Jean Giraudoux and othersboth having to do with cosmic injustice and the relationship between love and war. Gerard Depardieu is the Amphitryon figure, and Zeus is a croaking voice on the sound track, dimly related to the voice of the computer in Alphaville. I also spotted references to Kierkegaard, Hitchcock’s I Confess (known as La Loi de Silence in French), and Straub-Huillet’s From the Cloud to the Resistance and Antigone. For all the hermetic poetry and esoteric mysticism, this film also has concrete things to say about the bombing of Baghdad and the slaughter in Bosnia. In French with subtitles. 84 min. (JR) Read more
