For some reason, I never really got into James Bond. I knew he
existed, and I certainly thought secret agents were pretty cool and all, but I
just never saw any of the films, or if I did, I never got into them. I preferred
science fiction and fantasy as a kid, and pretty much stuck to those genres. So,
believe it or not, the very first James Bond film I ever saw was 1997’s Tomorrow
Never Dies. I later saw Goldeneye, and then rented Dr. No, and
have also seen Never Say Never Again. I liked the Pierce Brosnan ones –
they were clearly the product of a culture that had been accustomed to
high-speed, high-body-count action films, a post-T2 cinematic audience.
As an action fan, I found them greatly enjoyable; but were they truly
"James Bond movies"?
The answer is – I’m not certain. I suppose it depends on when
you became a Bond fan, who you consider the definitive Bond, and what aspects of
Bond films you like. Connery was the suave seducer, or so he seems; he was also
the misogynistic bastard who would shoot a woman ten minutes after sleeping with
her. I haven’t seen much of either Moore or Dalton, but Moore seems to be the
one who was usually wrapped up in the technologically-based plots, such as Moonraker
and the like, and Dalton was just so of an interim Bond (though one of my
friends, a Bond connoisseur, swears by Dalton).
Brosnan, for better or for worse, must be the late-90’s bad-ass
action hero. He must shoot people – a lot of people. He must do unbelievable
stunts (see the opening sequence of Goldeneye – I mean, come on!).
He must cause explosions – big ones, and lots of ’em.
There are tons of explosions in The World is Not
Enough. I think just about every major set piece ends up getting blown up at
some point or another. I remember at one point, when Bond enters an interesting
new area, I turned to my friend and said, in my best approximation of Brosnan’s
accent, "Hmm, I’ll have a lot of fun blowing this place up." Sure
enough, less than ten minutes later – boom.
But there’s really nothing wrong with the explosions. Then come
in between the usual Bond stand-bys – sleeping with beautiful women, making
double entendres that no woman would ever let a real man get away with
(especially not one she was going to sleep with), engaging in high-speed aquatic
chase scenes, engaging in high-speed ski chase scenes, playing with neato
gadgets, dodging helicopters sporting economy-size band saws, etc. All that, and
yes ladies, Mr. Brosnan looks damned good, doesn’t he?
While my Bond connoisseur friend has called TWINE his
favorite Brosnan Bond film so far, I have to say that while it was entertaining,
I’m not sure it was any more or less entertaining than the other two. Actually,
let me correct that. Plot and action-wise, none of the films have a particular
edge. But TWINE has Sophie Marceau and Denise Richards (who looks damned
good, even if I’ll never, ever believe she’s a nuclear scientist. Ever.).
The character that seems to be the film’s villain, Renard (Robert Carlyle) is
ignored for half the film and never really given the chance to develop – though
there’s something of a reason for that. Marceau shines, however, as the newest,
gloriously sexy Bond girl, with the hot accent (English is her fourth language,
or something like that). And for the first time, I found Denise Richards to be
hot. Nothing else I’ve seen her in (Starship Troopers, Wild Things, Drop
Dead Gorgeous) managed to give her quite the same ring-a-ding-ding as this
film does.
Overall, TWINE is at least as good as its two
predecessors, and maybe a little better. So if you’re a Bond fan, an action
movie fan, or ideally both, make sure you check this film out.
—12/18/99
I admit I had some bias coming in to Sleepy Hollow – I
was psyched for it. Totally psyched. I already had all four of the action
figures, including the deluxe Headless Horseman that included his horse. I had
the poster and the soundtrack. But what of it? Aren’t we movie reviewers
supposed to love movies? And if so, shouldn’t we get excited about them?
However, in the past, I’ve been willing to give somewhat
negative reviews of a film, no matter how much I was looking forward to them
(see The Phantom Menace). But luckily, Sleepy
Hollow didn’t disappoint me in the slightest.
Directed by Tim Burton and written by Kevin Yagher, a long-time
film crewman but first-time screenwriter, Sleepy Hollow plays fast and
loose with the original tale, written by Washington Irving and known in full as The
Legend of Sleepy Hollow. Set in 1799, just before "the dawn of a new
century," the film’s central character is Ichabod Crane (Johhny Depp), who
in the original story was a mild-mannered schoolteacher in the town of Sleepy
Hollow, but here is a New York cop who is sent to Sleepy Hollow to investigate
some murders involving beheadings.
Unlike the original story, which made it fairly clear that while
the town was virulently superstitious there was little actual evil magic about,
Burton’s Sleepy Hollow is a grove of witches, demons, and gates to Hell. The
plot is simple: Crane must figure out who is carrying out the gruesome
beheadings and capture him. Involved in his quest is Baltus Van Tassel (Michael
Gambon), a rich local baron, and his beautiful daughter, Katrina (Christina
Ricci). Along the way, Crane also enlists the help of a boy whose father is
murdered by the mysterious forces at work, Young Masbath (Marc Pickering).
From the outset, Burton makes it quite clear to the audience
that we are not dealing with the flesh-and-blood murdered that Crane is looking
for, but a ghostly Headless Horseman that mercilessly slays his victims (each
beheading shown entirely in all its gory glory) and carries away their craniums
for unknown purposes. Gone is the theory that the Horseman uses the heads, at
least temporarily, to replace his own (thus making the Horseman’s main way of
killing somewhat less logical, in a minor plot issue); the Horseman’s motives
are unclear as he repeatedly rides out of the forest to claim another victim.
It’s important to note that part of what Burton was going for in
Sleepy Hollow was an homage to the Hammer horror films of the 1950s and
’60s. The gigantic moon, the painted sets, the stilted dialogue – these are all
aspects of those classic British films. Unlike his last effort to capture a
cinematic style of years past – the dismal Mars Attacks – Burton melds
the style of the Hammer films seamlessly into his bizarre microcosm of Sleepy
Hollow.
Depp plays the idiosyncratic constable to a T, making him so
rational, and yet timid, that the simple phrase "It was a Headless
Horseman" becomes the funniest line in the entire film. Ricci, playing the
"beautiful American actress" archetypal role within the Hammer
tradition, is admiringly sweet and sensual despite her big dresses and
deliberately awkward dialogue.
And then there’s the Headless Horseman himself. He is King
Bad-Ass. Riding like a bat out of hell – literally – from his haunted tree, on
his huge steed Daredevil (actually the name of the horse of Ichabod Crane’s
rival for Katrina’s affections, Brom Van Brunt (Casper Van Dien), in the orginal
tale), sword in hand, ready to slay his next victim – the Horseman is truly the
image of the Grim Reaper. It’s worth noting that when in hand-to-hand combat,
the Horseman was played by Ray Park, Star Wars‘ infamous Darth Maul (Park
is given a deliciously ironic chance to give as good as he got in Star Wars
in one action-packed Sleepy Hollow scene). When his head is restored to
him, the Horseman is played by…but that would be telling.
Sleepy Hollow is a wonderfully Gothic fairy tale, rather
gory, but with wonderful characters and an intriguing, if occasionally
confusing, plot. Burton has given us a truly excellent traditional fairy tale,
and that’s a wonder in age where fantasy usually takes on the robes of science
fiction.
—12/18/99
For some reason, I was pretty psyched to see Dogma. I’d
previously seen two other films by Kevin Smith – Clerks and Chasing
Amy – both of which I’d liked, but neither of which became a particular
favorite of mine.
But for some reason, Dogma looked really promising. The
premise – two renegade angels find a loophole to get back into heaven – was
relevant to my current interest in Christian theology and issues of immortality
and its relation to loss and despair. Furthermore, anytime Christian theology
and pop culture mix, especially in a movie, there’s an opportunity for some very
interesting plots.
The result of Kevin Smith’s efforts is what amounts to a very
entertaining, and also enlightening, film about Christian and, more
particularly, Catholic values and their relevance in the modern world of the
Internet, rampant consumerism and a standard college-age atheism. But don’t be
fooled – Smith isn’t trying to explore the question "Does God exist?"
or "Does God matter anymore?" He comes down firmly on one side, that
of yes to both, but in doing so he creates a very fun and meaningful film.
The plot is deceptively complex: two renegade angels, Bartleby
and Loki (Ben Affleck and Matt Damon, respectively) have been cast out of Heaven
for attempting to quit their jobs as God’s agents of wrath. Having chilled out
on Earth for thousands of years, they are given a shot at redemption, so to
speak, when they discover a loophole in Catholic theology: plenary indulgence. A
Catholic church in New Jersey, attempting to kick-start a new image for the
religion (Catholicism WOW!), is planning to hold a special ceremony in which
anyone who passes through the door of the church will be purged of all their
sins immediately. The angels’ plan: cut off their wings and transubstantiate to
human form, then walk through the doors. Thus, when the die, they will ascend to
heaven and rejoin the divine presence they so miss.
The Powers that Be can’t let this happen, so God’s divine
messenger, Metatron (Alan Rickman as his marvelously dry best) appears to the
Last Sion, Bethany (Linda Fiorentino). Bethany, who works in an abortion clinic,
is the archetypal doubting Catholic, dutifully going to church even though she’s
not sure what it means to her anymore. All that changes once she’s visited by
Metatron, and soon she finds herself on a quest to find Bartleby and Loki, and
prevent them from crossing the Church’s door. The stakes? If the angels cross
the door, then God is revealed to be fallible, and the entire universe unravels.
Along the way, Bethany is joined by two "prophets,"
Smith’s omnipresent Jay and Silent Bob (played by Jason Mewes and Smith
himself), as well as Chris Rock’s Rufus, the black 13th apostle who has returned
from the dead to help Bethany and, hopefully, have the story set straight
(according to Rufus, Jesus was a black man). They’re also joined by the Muse
Serendipity (Salma Hayek, who as always has to dance around half-naked before
getting down to brass acting tacks). While the occasionally irritating Jay and
Silent Bob seem to oddly fit with Bethany, Rufus and Serendipity seem like
strange hangers on, as if Smith found himself with a bunch of willing stars but
wasn’t sure what to do with them.
The films suffers from a bit of a dichotomy – sometimes it wants
to be an action-adventure flick, and at other times, most notably when Affleck’s
Bartleby is reflecting on his suffering and his relation to God and mankind, the
film is as honest and complex in its exploration of theology as any more
"serious" film. The film’s centerpiece is a tender scene between
Metatron and Bethany, as Bethany rages against her fate in the water of a lake
and Metatron walks on the water, where Metatron reveals to her some of the pain
and despair that God Himself has gone through for others.
Like any film – and literary work, and comic book, etc. – that
deals with a threat to God, there lingers over the film the same problem faced
by John Milton when he wrote Paradise Lost – how does one create any
drama, any sense of conflict, when God is omnipotent and can squash the threat
with less than a thought? Milton’s solution was to ignore the problem and give
us a wonderfully poetic and tragic view of Satan; similarly, Smith chooses to
ignore God’s omnipotence, at least briefly, through a few clever legal
technicalities that we, as the audience, must accept if we are to enjoy the film
at all.
In a world where God’s status is questionable, this may not be
as hard as it sounds. Nonetheless, Smith is giving us as faithful a vision of
Catholicism as any priest – despite what the Catholic League might scream about.
Furthermore, Smith has created a wonderfully fun and entertaining film, and
while being a little long, it sustains your interest until the very end.
And yes, Alanis Morissette plays God.
—12/18/99
I didn’t plan to see Anywhere But Here. Natalie Portman
as a misunderstood teenager and Susan Sarandon as her free-spirit mother?
<<warning: uncharacteristically sexist comments to follow>> Hold on
girls, just let me grab my curling iron and waxing compound and we’ll psyche
ourselves up for this film!
Seriously though, there we were – stuck in the dirty, dirty town
of New Haven, with its ugly, ugly school of Yale, without our Yale connection so
we could go find a party at which to be sneered at and taunted for losing The
Game. So after treating ourselves to the gourmet delights of Popeye’s, where I
saw the fried corpses of at least two dozen chickens awaiting consumption on a
rack directly behind the cashiers, we trudged through the miserable rain
to a run-down little theater. What was playing? Well, we had time to see either Three
Kings or Anywhere But Here. I’d already seen Three Kings, and was also extraordinarily tired, so I figured I’d just go to the chick flick and
fall asleep.
Accursed crappy chairs! Accursed theater! Accursed movie! I find
myself somewhat hesitant to write this review, for the simple reason that my
classmate, Natalie Portman, might someday, for some ungodly reason, stumble
across my site – but the fact is, her acting, for the part, was fine. While I
admit playing an angst-filled teen isn’t a necessarily tricky role, Portman
actually brought a few endearing and complex touches to the character.
But the writing is horrendous. Horrendous. Some of the lines
just grated on my ears like my roommate’s snoring. And that’s like a buzzsaw in
itself. Even the plot is bizarre – for instance, <<spoilers ahead>>
a character who seems to be integral to the story, who is definitely heading
toward some kind of important cathartic moment with Portman’s character, is
killed off in what seems an entirely random act. Killed off! My friends and I
just looked at each other and laughed at that point. What the hell was with this
movie?
As mentioned before, the dialogue is so wooden you could build a
campfire with it. It’s not Portman or Sarandon’s delivery – they’re just stuck
with crappy lines and a pair of bizarre characters. I suppose there’s some truth
to them – Sarandon’s character strongly reminds me of someone I know, actually –
but they just really started to irritate me in this film.
In summation, I’ll say this: I doubt I’ll ever watch this movie
again.
So what’s the moral of the story? New Haven is a dirty, dirty
town, and I never want to go back.
—12/18/99