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February 2008

The Assassination of Jesse James By the Coward Robert Ford

The Assassination of Jesse James By the Coward Robert Ford Brad Pitt, Mary-Louise Parker, Casey Affleck 4 out of 5 stars Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson

America loves its bad men. Al Capone. John Dillinger. Mike Tyson. Jesse James. Richard Nixon (okay, that one’s a stretch). When Jesse James was shot by his protégé, Bob Ford, his home state of Missouri went into mourning. Jesse’s body lay in state on ice for days (I said it before, and it bears repeating: that practice adds new meaning to the phrase “stinks on ice.”) Photo postcards of his corpse fetched as much as $2, a princely sum in 1882. Conversely, there was no such fanfare when Jesse’s older brother Frank died of natural causes in 1915, mainly because Frank was a repentant sinner and Jesse was not. As for Jesse’s assailant, young Bob had his moment, then was treated like a pariah. When a disgruntled admirer of Jesse’s blew Bob away in 1892, no one paid a dime to see the scattershot lodged in his throat.

“The Assassination of Jesse James” is as much the story of James’ last years as a hunted, paranoid animal as it is Bob Ford’s dangerous obsession with his boyhood hero. Bob’s consuming admiration for Jesse parallels the celebrity worship of Selena by Yolanda Saldivar with equally tragic results. There’s an old saying about keeping your enemies close. If they’re armed, maybe that’s not such a good idea.

The plot follows the beginning of the end for the James Gang. By 1881, when the action begins, all the members of the original gang except Frank (an appropriately worn and taciturn Sam Shepard) and Jesse (Brad Pitt, hollow-eyed and unstable), are either in the ground or in jail. The new gang, made up of green country rubes such as Bob Ford’s older brother, Charlie (reliable Sam Rockwell), dim-witted Ed Miller (the ever-present Garrett Dillahunt from “Deadwood”), Wood Hite (tough and loyal Jeremy Renner) the James’ cousin, and sweet talkin’ skirt chaser Dick Liddil (perfectly cast Paul Schneider), are planning to rob the mail train at Blue Cut. For Frank, who’s barely on speaking terms with his increasingly enigmatic brother, it’s his last job. Determined to meet his idol, join the gang and make a name for himself, Bob first approaches Frank at the gang’s hideout:

Bob: I honestly believe I’m destined for great things…
Frank: Quench your mind of it. You don’t have the ingredients, son…

Frank will later make an observation that sums of Bob’s off-putting effect on everyone he encounters: “I don’t know what it is about you, but the more you talk, the more you give me the willies.”

Thanks to Charlie being a full-fledged member of the gang, Bob slowly ingratiates himself to Jesse. After the Blue Cut robbery the gang is forced to scatter, with Liddil and Hite eventually heading south to Hite’s parents home in Kentucky while Miller roughs it on his own. Bob manages to linger with Jesse and his family until he’s no longer useful and the boss begins to tire of him: “I can’t figure out if you wanna be like me, or you wanna be me.” Jesse says.

With Pinkertons gunning for him on every corner, Jesse sinks into bouts of paranoia, depression, violence and random acts of kindness, such as when he gives Bob a new gun (the one Bob will eventually use on him) and tries to make amends:

Jesse: You know what John Newman Edwards once wrote about me? He said I didn’t trust two men in ten thousand and was even cautious around them. The government’s sort of run me ragged. I’m goin’ a long way ‘round the barn to say I’ve been feelin’ cornered and just plain ornery of late. So I’d be pleased if you’d accept the gun as my way of apologizin’.

Bob: Heaven knows I’d be ornerier if I were in your position.

Jesse: No, I haven’t been actin’ correctly. I can’t hardly recognize myself sometimes when I’m greased. I go on journeys out of my body and look at my red hands and mean face and I wonder about that man who’s gone so wrong. How I became such a problem to myself.”

The gang members experience similar hardships -- infighting, jealousy -- and fall prey to the types of stupid human tricks that eventually bring all criminals down. Several members of the gang, including Bob, are captured and forced to turn on Jesse. Bob sees it as an opportunity to finally attain the greatness he feels is due him. “I was the baby, the one they made promises to they never kept,” he says, “And ever since I can remember Jesse James has been as big as a tree.” After taking down “the tree,” Bob becomes more popular than the President. (The President happened to be Chester A. Arthur, so a piece of driftwood would have been just as big a celebrity). But like all one trick ponies, the public took more pleasure in tearing Bob down than in building him up.

Since this is a film about Jessie James’ assassin as well as the famed outlaw, the less familiar fates of Bob and Charlie in the aftermath of James’ death are particularly fascinating, tragic and historically accurate.

If there’s one valid glaring problem it’s the film’s length. The James’ career didn’t seem to last as long as the film’s bloated 160 minutes. There are long awkward silences between Pitt and Affleck’s characters that are just as easily explained by the narrator, several protracted scenes in which Jesse cruelly teases Bob when one would have sufficed, and a glacial scene on the ice between Pitt and Rockwell in which Jesse states what his actions have made obvious – he’s feeling suicidal.

Casey Affleck has received an Oscar nomination for his portrayal of Bob Ford. I’ve been told his performance in the “Mystic River” clone “Gone Baby Gone” is more award worthy and I hope that’s the case. Affleck is very good in the role of the twitchy, immature, put-upon hero-worshipping Bob, but Oscar worthy? I dunno about that. Basically he’s playing, pardon me for saying this…A spazz. Affleck’s projects Bob as hesitant and weird, like your best friend’s little brother that you couldn’t get rid of when you were kids. His striking resemblance to off-beat musician David Byrne helps; the other characters constantly teasing Bob and commenting on his strangeness and how no one can trust him does not. If the real Bob Ford was truly as odd and uncomfortable to be around as the other characters lead you to believe, he never would have made it beyond his initial contact with Frank James. Jesse supposedly killed slow on the uptake Ed Miller for having loose lips. And we’re supposed to believe Jesse’s not only going to ride with Bob, a boy he doesn’t like or trust, he’s also going to invite him to live with him at his hideaway? The only way around that dilemma is that no one, including Jesse, ever saw Bob as anything but a doofus and certainly not a threat. Nevertheless, suspend all logic as to why Bob Ford is actually a member of the gang and watch Affleck’s affecting performance.

A stable of actors have played Jesse James, including matinee idol Tyrone Power, war hero Audie Murphy, perennial good guy Roy Rogers (Roy Rogers? Did his horse Trigger play Frank?), and a real actor, Robert Duvall. You can now add Mr. Angelina Jolie to the plus column. I’ve always been skeptical of pretty boys, but Brad Pitt is slowly making me believe they can act after all. This is the third great performance I’ve seen him give (“Seven” and “Babel” are the others). He succeeds in portraying Jesse James in every flattering and unflattering light, giving the legend substance. The notion that Jesse James was clairvoyant is as hard to believe as Bob Ford being a first class outcast and then becoming Jesse’s most intimate member of the gang. Jessie knows that Ed Miller has betrayed him, so he kills him; Jessie suspects his cousin Wood Hite has been killed and Dick Liddil has something to do with it, so he just happens to go to the Ford’s hideout where Dick is cringing in a closet. The hardest part to believe is when Jesse thinks the Fords may be plotting to betray him. He sets his guns down to dust a picture, inviting Bob to cap him. The idea that the real Jesse James purposely left himself unguarded in front of a boy he couldn’t trust is ludicrous, but by the time the scene is played out, Pitt’s portrayal of a wrung out Jesse makes the notion that Bob’s assassination was more of an assisted suicide at least plausible. (Not to mention the fact that the camera angle in the last scene makes it clear that Jesse could see Bob’s reflection in the picture.) Pitt is charismatic in the early scenes of the film as he displays his skills at train robbing; ruthless when he administers a sickening, man-sized beating to the Ford’s teenage cousin (and is clearly wrong for doing it); and is worthy of the audience’s pity as he spends his final days hiding out with the Fords and his family.

Veteran character actor Sam Shepard’s interpretation of Jesse’s crusty, saddle-weary older sibling should be part of the actor’s handbook. The lesser known members of the James Gang (the outlaws, not the rock group) are well defined and superbly acted. A dose of Garrett Dillahunt (Ed Miller) should be required for every western. Dillahunt played Francis Wolcott, George Hearst’s psychopathic serial killing assistant in “Deadwood.” Wolcott was too smart for his own good; here Dillahunt plays a dull-witted, well-intentioned character who’s too stupid to live a long life, and he plays the role well. The petrified look on his face when Jesse asks Miller to “take a ride with him” and he realizes he’s about to “get the business” is priceless. Sam Rockwell plays the equally uneducated Charlie Ford with aplomb, going from a happy-go-lucky opportunist, to a coward terrified of being found out, and finally a guilt-ridden husk destroyed by his own conscience. Jeremy Renner, as the James’ cousin, Wood Hite, displays loads of cowboy bravado, going appropriately hell bent for leather when he discovers his close friend Dick Liddil has defiled his elderly father’s flirtatious young wife. The confrontation between Hite and Liddil is fast paced and debunks cowboy lore – both men fire at one another in a confined area and frequently miss (cowboys were more often bad shots than good ones). Liddil’s less than gentlemanly attempt to kill Hite when he runs out of bullets is surprising, but Hite’s reaction is chillingly cold blooded. You’d think the two old buddies would call it quits after winging each other, but Hite is determined to uphold the honor of a woman he doesn’t even like. The savage, no holds barred conclusion to their fight is a shocker rife with realistic special effects.

Paul Schneider gives a standout performance as the fast talking, erudite Dick Liddil. We see him teasing Ed Miller while spouting poetry, romancing Hite’s eager to be had young step mother, taking a one way ride with Jesse and somehow avoiding ending up like Miller. In one of his few selfless acts, he prevents Jesse from beating the Ford’s young cousin to death, risking Jesse’s wrath. Liddil is a survivor, as evidence by the deal he cuts with Governor Crittenden, and Schneider successfully portrays Liddil’s self-confidence, voracious sexual appetite, and talent for dodging trouble. He’s the Joe Valacchi of his generation.

Two recognizable character actors and a well known public figure have pivotal bit parts in the film. If you’ve ever watched “Monk,” then you’ll recognize Ted Levine, who plays Sheriff Timberlake, one of the many peace officers in pursuit of James. Levine may play comic foil Captain Leland Stottlemeyer to Tony Shaloub’s Detective Monk on TV, but he’s also played a number of villains, including way out cross dressing killer “Buffalo Bill” Gumb in “Silence of the Lambs.” For “Jesse James” Levine taps into his smarmy villain with a badge bag. Veteran character actor Michael Parks, who back in the day played hippies and radicals (“Then Came Bronson”), seems to be getting a real charge out of playing a hump busting government thug helping Governor Crittenden and Sheriff Timberlake put the screws to Liddil and Bob Ford. James Carville, taking a page from Fred Thompson’s public figure-turned actor page, portrays tough as pig iron Governor Thomas Crittenden, who put a $10,000 price on James’ head: “Jesse James sent me a telegram last month, saying he was going to kill me if he had to wreck a train to do it. He said that once I was in his hands he was going to cut my heart out and eat it in strips like it was bacon…I’m gonna wreck his train first.”

Narration often gets in the way and confuses the obvious in films (let my imagination figure out what’s going on, I always say). The story of Jesse James needs no prodding, but is actually embellished by narrator Hugh Ross’ sympathetic observations: “(James had) granulated eyelids, which caused him to blink more than usual…As if he found creation slight more than he could accept…”

The cinematography and scenery are strikingly brilliant. When Jesse rides up on Ed Miller’s clapboard hideout in the dead of winter you can feel the cold chill tearing across the desolate landscape. The scene when the gang robs the train at Blue Cut is as grandiose and exhilarating as what you’d come to expect from the James Gang’s dime novel exploits. The train rumbles out of the darkness as a pinprick of light before enveloping the screen; the hooded robbers stand by the side of the tracks like ghostly apparitions, waiting for the train to ground to a halt, and Jesse stands defiantly on top of the felled trees and logs used to block the tracks, daring the conductor to try and get through him. It’s a remarkable scene that’s in great contrast to the ugliness that ensues when the robbers board the train and Jesse beats a heroic baggage master. He’s about to murder him without an after thought until Ed Miller tells him to stop (which might be where Ed and Jess started to go wrong). Jesse tells his fellow nightrider, “Don’t you tell me what I can and can’t do, Ed,” with such cold blooded detachment you know he means it, and the dismantling of Jesse James as heroic Robin Hood has begun.

With films like the recent remake of “3:10 To Yuma” and “Seraphine Falls” the American western is slowly making its way out of the corral of neglected genres and back into the money making field occupied by action movies and comedies. “The Assassination of Jess James” is a killer, featuring a bonanza of talent. Ride on, saddle up, and join the gang.

Posted February 28, 2008 Permalink

Elizabeth: The Golden Age

Elizabeth: The Golden Age 3.5 out of 5 stars Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson

The sequel to 1998’s “Elizabeth,” “Elizabeth: The Golden Age” is the second in director Shakhar Kapur’s proposed trilogy chronicling the life of Britain’s beloved Queen Elizabeth. Like its predecessor, “The Golden Age” is a lavish costume drama occasionally heightened by moments of swashbuckling bravery and steely intrigue. The romantic flash emanates from the character of Walter Raleigh (smiling, self assured Clive Owen, channeling Errol Flynn), while the intrigue seeps from the likes of Elizabeth’s advisor Francis Walsingham (oily Geoffrey Rush, who could teach the KGB a few tricks). Owen, Rush, and major combatants Elizabeth (regal, pale as porcelain Cate Blanchett), Mary, Queen of Scotts (fetching Samantha Morton) and Phillip II (fanatical Jordi Molla), all throw more ham around the screen than a waiter at Grossinger’s, but their tendency to overact turns a cumbersome script into an impressive costume flick.

“Elizabeth” is set in 1585, three years before the climatic battle between the Spanish Armada (“invincible fleet”) and the upstart English navy. Spain, the known world’s most powerful country, is run by a Roman Catholic, King Phillip II. Queen Elizabeth, a Protestant, rules England. In Phillip’s eyes, Elizabeth’s barbaric beliefs are bad enough, she’s also well aware that pirates like Frances Drake and Walter Raleigh have been boarding Spanish merchantman and stealing his gold, and she’s done nothing to stop them. Itching for a war, Phillip supports the claim to the throne of Elizabeth’s exiled Catholic cousin, Mary Queen of Scots.

With war looming and Mary fitting herself for the crown, what better time to try and set Elizabeth up for marriage? Yes, the “Virgin Queen” is pressured into checking out a succession of reluctant suitors so she can create an heir and in the event of her own death still block Mary’s claim to the throne. Into the midst of this matrimonial circus struts Walter Raleigh, recently returned from his exploration of the New World. Elizabeth is immediately smitten by Raleigh’s gallant personality (and, of course, his looks), and assigns her most trusted – and beautiful – lady in waiting, Elizabeth “Bess” Throckmorton (saucy Abbie Cornish) the task of keeping Raleigh amused. Elizabeth proves to be too able at keeping Raleigh amused and winds up pregnant. When Elizabeth finds out she is not amused, and she tosses the two canoodlers in the dungeon.

Prior to Bess and Walt’s blessed event, King Phillip strips the forests of Spain to build the invincible fleet of warships that will conquer England.

Meanwhile, Mary Queen of Scots writes a letter to Phillip giving the green light to a plot to assassinate Queen Elizabeth. Liz is caught off guard (and without her guards) while praying in a church. She bravely walks toward her assassin, her arms outstretched as if to forgive him, convinced he won’t fire. Good thing there was no Las Vegas back then, because Liz would crapped out. The assassin squeezes the trigger. Either he’s a lousy shot at point blank range, or Liz’s elaborate corset slowed the bullet. (Bullets did indeed occasionally have a hard time piercing the heavy garments of the royal families. When Czar Nicholas of Russia and his family were murdered in 1918, their assassins had to pump extra volleys into the Czar’s daughters because of the thickness of their clothes, which were also reinforced with a fortune in jewels.)

Turns out Liz didn’t have to worry about the bullet – the gun was empty. But why the elaborate ruse? Tortured by Walsingham, Liz’s Sergeant at Arms, the assassin reveals Mary’s involvement. Walsingham uncharacteristically oversteps his bounds in prodding Liz to rid herself of the Catholic threat by giving Mary a haircut close to the shoulder.

Elizabeth: The law is for common men, not princes.
Walsingham: The law is for the protection or your people!

Liz waffles, but eventually caves and agrees to try Cousin Mary for treason. Mary goes to the chop shop a martyr for the Catholic cause as she famously says to her reluctant executioner, “I forgive you with all of my heart.” Walsingham realizes too late why the assassin’s gun was empty – Phillip’s support of Mary was an elaborate ruse – he intends to put his young daughter, Isabella, on the English throne. With Mary dead by Elizabeth’s hand, Phillip can get the approval of the Pope to wage war. (“Blood must pay for blood. I call the legions of Christ to war!) You waltzed, or Walsinghammed right into that one, Liz.

The Spanish Armada chugs toward England. Liz sets Walt free. Can the cunning Raleigh and the “Virgin Queen” save England? You can check with the History Channel, but it’s more of a thrill to watch ensuing battle between the rag tag Britons and the elegant Spanish Armada.

The actors must’ve gotten together beforehand and watched a lot of Errol Flynn and Olivia DeHaviland movies because all of their performances have the grandeur of a 40s swashbuckler without being ridiculously over the top. Even the more restrained characters, such as Rush’s Rasputin-like Walsingham, have their it’s-all-about-me moments. Check out Rush’s reaction to being betrayed. You’d expect Walsingham, who’s already shown a talent for torture, to fit the traitor for an Iron Maiden or wield the executioner’s axe himself, yet his reaction and solution is all too human. I’ve never seen Geoffrey Rush give a bad performance, not even as Barbarossa in the “Pirates of the Caribbean” trilogy (in which he really is over the top).

Cate Blanchett is stately and proud as Elizabeth, and she deserves her Oscar nomination just for being able to stay upright in some of the most cumbersome costumes you’ll ever see, (one of which looks like a Chinese box kite). She also dons wigs with more cornrows than the cast of “Good Times,” is heavily powdered until her skin has the consistency of liquid paper, and has Whoppi Goldberg’s eyebrows, which means she has none at all. Her regal whiteness and David Bowie features make her a “handsome woman.” But Elizabeth’s problem is not her looks – it’s her position in life. As the Queen Mother of England, the “Virgin Queen,” she’s painted herself in a social corner. She loves Raleigh, but her title and royal blood automatically forbid her from knocking boots with a commoner. Blanchett portrays Liz’s infatuation of Raleigh like an awkward teenager with a crush on the local bad boy, which goes against the Queen’s hardened, always in control personality, but it’s not far fetched as it seems – if you’ve never been in love, Queen or not, the first time love hits you upside your crown, you’re gonna gush. Liz has to give up her own life for her subjects and has never experienced the exhilaration of a horse race or a passionate kiss (until now) and she wants to be loved, even though she knows it’s not in the royal cards. But when the film calls for Liz to step up, (or actually saddle up as she address her troops on a wandering horse before they head into battle), Blanchett, in full Joan of Arc armor and Michelle Phillips flowing hippie hairpiece, is as fearless as General Patton sneering at a Panzer: “I am resolved to be in the heat of battle, to live or die with you all!”

Clive Owen, marvelously understated in “Children of Men” imbues the devil-may-care Raleigh with Errol Flynn’s leer and mannerisms, while sounding like Sean Connery on the loose at the Playboy mansion. He relishes playing the dashing hero, is a seafaring Don Juan in his scenes with Abbie Cornish, and seems to be enjoying himself even as his character faces certain death. Abbie Cornish, as Bess, could have tarted it up as the film’s ingénue, but convinces the viewer that she loves, rather than lusts after Raleigh. Jordi Molla has the tough assignment of playing Phillip II, who seems to be losing his royal marbles one Aggie at a time, but he never over does it by turning Philly into a frothing zealot. My personal favorite is Samantha Morton, who plays the beleaguered Mary Queen of Scots. Morton is an expert at displaying emotion via the heaving bosom, (and there’s plenty of bosom to heave), which gives Cornish a run for her corset in the 16th century babe department. Morton knows how to convey emotion through silence, having played the mute Hattie in Woody Allen’s 1999 film “Sweet and Lowdown.” For “Elizabeth” Morton also sports a Mrs. Doubtfire brogue, a captivating stare, and reacts the way you or I might when she realizes she’s been ratted out. Despite the unflattering Klaus Nomi hairdo in Mary’s execution scene, Morton carries it off like a true Queen. The real shocker comes in the extras when you get to see what Morton looks like off screen. I was pleased, very pleased, but it was a good call to identify the actors interviewed in the extras.

“Elizabeth” plays fast and loose with history. Francis Drake, the real hero in the battle against the Spanish Armada (along with his commander, Lord Howard), gets less screen time than King Phillip’s horse (which, by the way, is a good swimmer). Raleigh was patrolling the coast of Devon at the time of the battle, far way from the action. Elizabeth is also seen observing the battle from a cliff in Tillbury. Impossible. If she’d been standing on the cliffs in Tillbury she’d need a modern observatory and a fully charged cell phone to figure out what was going on. “Elizabeth” also dials back the Queen’s apparent age for Blanchett’s sake. When Elizabeth fell for Raleigh she was on the far, and I do mean far, side of 50, not in her 30s or 40s as the film would lead you to believe. As for poor Mary, the film leaves out that it took the executioner several whacks at her pretty cabeza to separate it from her shoulders, a not uncommon occurrence in the 16th Century. The film would also lead you to believe the Spanish Armada had an overwhelming superiority over the British fleet. The Armada numbered 130 ships; the English had 197 at their disposal. Granted, the Spanish ships were more heavily armed, but the Spaniards were using land-based cannons (for their anticipated invasion), and were overloaded with troops and cargo, making them hard to maneuver. See how writers go out of their way to make us happy?

Royal Extras

You’ll bow to the extras, which include segments on the making of “Elizabeth: The Golden Age,” creating the Armada (checkout that neat to scale Spanish galleon), an insider look at Elizabeth’s world, and a tour of the elegant churches and castles used in the film. “The Making of Elizabeth: The Reign Continues” features interviews with the actors and staff behind the scenes, including Blanchett, who talks about her character’s progression from scared contender for the crown in the first movie to Queen Mother. Owen, Rush, Molla, Cornish and the unrecognizable Samantha Morton offer insights into their characters and how they approached them. Rush proves to be quite a historian, Owen is still charming, and Molla’s dissertation on Phillip brings the Spanish Monarch out of the nut bag category and back into the realm of humanity. Director Shekhar Kapur is equally succinct in pointing out the differences between the first and second film: “Elizabeth was about the monarchy. This is about divinity.”

You may not say to yourself, “This is the big one, Elizabeth,” but the film’s lavish sets, colorful battle scenes, top notch performances and Morton’s heaving bosom should please. You’ll get caught up in the good versus evil, Protestant versus Catholic struggle. Is Elizabeth a gold medal winner? Maybe not. More like silver. But get out your family crest and armor and check out “Elizabeth: The Golden Age.” You’ll feel like a queen (or king) for a day.

Posted February 28, 2008 Permalink

Suburban Girl

“Suburban Girl” Alec Baldwin, Sarah Michelle Gellar 2.5 out of 5 stars Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson

“Suburban Girl” is a mild modern day May-December romance. Think of it as “Viagra in the City.” It tells the story of an underpaid, unappreciated twenty-something editor, Brett Eisenberg, (sprightly Sarah Michelle Geller), who idolizes and is quickly romanced by alcoholic, diabetic, fifty-something publishing magnate Archie Knox (doughy Alec Baldwin). Dare I say it… It’s a “chick flick.” The romance is strictly PG (so why does Sarah need a body double?), but there are a several surprises in the functional and occasionally amusing script. With no explosions, cleavage or hunks, and a minimum of body function jokes, “Suburban Girl” could fit right in with the easygoing Saturday afternoon fare on the Lifetime Channel.

The plot sticks with the expected roadblocks. Everyone in Brett’s camp -- her Norman Rockwell family, her bratty best friend and her co-workers (including the oversexed black guy, where do they get these ideas?), thinks Archie’s too old for her. Throw in Archie’s physical problems, a daughter often talked about but never seen, and you’ve got a lot of romantic land mines that have to be avoided in order to keep this romance from blowing up.

The villain in the mix is Brett’s shrewish boss, Faye Faulker (scene stealing Vanessa Lynn Branch), who gives her forklifts of manuscripts to read, kicks her out of her office to install her horndog lackey, and has a vendetta against her that would make La Cosa Nostra proud.

Brett’s father’s fatal illness, as potentially shattering as her rollercoaster relationship with Archie, takes a back seat to romance and is wrapped up quickly. Dad even dies off screen, cutting short a potential emotional bonanza.

Much of the dialogue is good natured give and take about Brett and Archie’s mathematical divide:

Archie: I’m an alcoholic. I’ll have three years sober this May.
Brett: I’ll be three years legal this May.

Brett and Archie’s relationship slowly becomes “Pygmalion in the City” with Brett taking offense to being treated like Archie’s estranged daughter. Their romance crumbles when Brett openly accuses him of being a control freak and a bad father. He reacts by having an affair with an even younger nymphet, and drowns his insecurities in vodka. (Hey, it never worked for me either, but I always enjoyed going under.) Brett is shattered when she catches the woman leaving Archie’s apartment and she mistakes Brett for Archie’s daughter. Brett quickly realizes not only is Archie drinking again, he’s also a commitmentphobe. (Find a player who’ll sign on for long term neutering. That’s why they’re single).

Brett: Who is she? Who is she Archie?
Archie: My way out.

Archie’s drinking lands him in the hospital, and he has a change of heart (as well as a change of liver). But has the student outgrown the teacher, or will it be rice and wheelchairs for the reconciled Brett and Archie? The conclusion goes outside Lifetime TV’s code of happy endings, and will be one of those things that make you go…Hmmmm…

Sarah Michelle Geller is an adorable but a spotty performer. She can drive home Brett’s inner turmoil, especially her concern over Archie’s age, as well as her freak out over her father’s terminal cancer. But she has no chemistry with Baldwin, perhaps because his character is too ambiguous and has too many defensive walls to break through. It’s also difficult to make limousine loving bohemians like Brett and Archie completely lovable to us po’ folk. And if you only had the scene in which Brett decides to get drunk at a society soirée in which to judge Geller’s ability as an actress, you’d tell her that Mickey D’s is still hiring.

Baldwin’s character is an elusive love junkie, but not dedicated to working at it (now that sounds familiar!), so his erratic performance is understandable. He’s got Archie’s charm down like a second skin, but his self-abusive alcoholic, diabetic side is mostly talked about and hinted at rather than seen. Baldwin makes you like his character through intermittent displays of wit. Smiling uncomfortably at Brett in a candy store, he admits, “I’m a diabetic. I can feel the sugar through my shoes just standing here.”

As for the supporting cast, Maggie Grace is wasted as Brett’s designer friend Chloe, a character so shallow she doesn’t have a last name or a purpose, other than making catty remarks about everyone else. When Chloe visits a shut in Brett after her break up with Archie and insensitively blurts out that Archie has moved on and she should do the same, Brett snaps back, “How are we friends?” You’ll wonder too. Maggie should look into getting a new manager. Since her bitchy character was perforated on “Lost,” she starred in a credible but unnecessary remake of “The Fog,” and is playing a distant second banana here. If she gets a few more nondescript roles like this, her career really will be lost.

If Vanessa Lynn Branch looks familiar, it’s because you’ve probably seen her advertising Orbit Gum on TV (“Dirty mouth? Try Orbit…Fabulous!”). And she’s fabulous as the boss from hell, who enjoys sticking it to Brett by telling her that Archie, well…once stuck it her, so to speak. There’s a quick visual nod to her job as Orbit Gum’s spokeswoman when the two first meet and Branch flashes her blinding smile. Branch steals her opening scene with Geller by going commando and gets to show off her fluency in Mandarin and French in another. She’s “Suburban Girl”’s hot ticket in a sadly underwritten role. Hopefully, she won’t go the way of Rula Lenska (famous by pretending to be famous).

James Naughton plays Brett Eisenberg’s dying father, Robert, with dignity and restraint. He’s unhappy that Brett’s dating a man who’s only seven years his junior, but trusts her and doesn’t interfere. He also loves his daughter so much he delays telling her he’s dying, because he’s concerned how she’ll react and he doesn’t want to complicate her life. Naughton’s Robert Eisenberg is the most complete, sympathetic, and best defined character in the movie. If Geller has no chemistry with Baldwin, the man she’s supposed to be in love with, she has plenty to spare with Naughton, the man who’s loved her all her life. Yet Naughton is hustled out of the action faster than two drunks in a Vegas wedding chapel.

Peter Scolari plays writer Mickey Lazz, another in a long line of neurotics he’s portrayed since starring with Tom Hanks in the 80s TV sitcom “Bosom Buddies.” When Scolari jumped from “Bosom Buddies” to “The Newhart Show” he looked like the breakout actor from the show. Two decades later, after “Honey Who Shrunk the Kids?” it’s honey who shrunk my career?

“Suburban Girl” is a pleasant popcorn movie for a rainy Sunday afternoon. You’ll feel a hint of the warm and toasties, but ten minutes after watching it you’ll forget all about it. Kinda like your last romance…

Posted February 17, 2008 Permalink

Dedication

Dedication directed by Justin Theroux 0 out of 5 stars Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson

“Dedication” will make you cry – which is unfortunate, because it’s supposed to make you laugh. It’s so achingly bad you’ll be checking your watch five minutes into the “action,” praying for Gamera the flying turtle to eat you alive. (Don’t worry, I’ll explain that comment. Just read on.)

There isn’t a solitary laugh to be had in this very dark, listless comedy. As for the plot -- the only plot worth paying attention to is the one illustrator Randy Holt (crusty Tom Wilkinson) winds up in within the first half hour. It’s too bad for Tom that the script requires him to reappear intermittently as the main character’s alter ego/conscience. Wilkinson’s Randy is the closest “Dedication” has to a likable character; he swears with flair, eats Genoa salami knowing it’s bad for his heart, and to say he’s got a pessimistic view of life gives manic depressives a bad name. Compared to Henry (unlovable Billy Crudup), a sarcastic, potty-mouthed children’s book writer, Randy is the Dalai Lama. Henry has a fear of anything that turns clockwise, hates carrots and snakes, and won’t ride in cars --“Statistically, you have a 100% change of having and accident. They’re death traps,” he says. One of the ways he copes with the world’s perceived sleights is to stack books on his chest (a habit that’s never explained). Another is to watch Gamera movies. (See I told you I’d explain.) Gamera, the flame spewing flying turtle, was series of amateurish 60s Japanese sci-fi movies with bad overdubbing. (The kind of movie where the actor’s lips move thirty seconds after they say something.) Gamera frequently battled Godzilla and other stuntmen in rubber suits with unintentionally sidesplitting results. Godzilla, Mothra, and Ghidorah I could understand. But Gamera? Gamera was such an insignificant movie monster even fans of the genre probably don’t know there was more than one movie starring the flying can of soup. Not having a decent monster movie diversion is further proof of Henry’s self loathing.

Randy and Henry are scrambling for an idea for a new series of children’s books. They come up with Marty – “the beaver with an edge.” With the book deal in place, Randy checks out with a bad ticker, but not before he tells Henry to find himself a “nice girl.” The next scene is of a heartbroken Henry crying uncontrollably, then visiting Randy’s gravesite. The laughs just keep coming…

Henry’s publisher Arthur Plank (Bob Baliban, who’s stiff as a board), is still expecting Henry to write the Marty the Beaver series, so he enlists the talents of a new illustrator, Lucy (Mandy Moore, who we could use less of). Henry and Lucy initially hit it off like Sparta and Greece. Henry lashes out with profanity-laced vitriol that nearly scuttles their relationship before Lucy can even sharpen her crayons. Determined to succeed, Lucy finally fights back: “You don’t always have to say the first wise-ass thing that pops into your head. It makes you look weak, not clever. So f***king knock it off.” Naturally, sad-sack Henry begins to fall in love with her. Even Randy (his ghost or Henry’s conscience, whatever) approves:

Henry: I think I’m starting to like her.
Randy: Show her you best.
Henry: I can’t. I don’t have a best. My best is at best depressing.

Aside from Henry being a (insert invective here), Lucy’s former British boyfriend Jeremy is back in her life. (A queasy looking Martin Freeman plays Jeremy. He acts as if he’s wearing red ant BVDs and his career has been dealt a death blow. P.S. Marty, it has.) Jeremy’s written a sure fire hit novel of his own, which he plans to dedicate to Lucy. What Lucy doesn’t know is Jeremy has written the exact dedication for Simone, a girl he had an 18-month relationship with. First girl to accept the engagement ring wins the dedication sweepstakes. Lucy forgives the affair and begins to think about settling down with Jeremy, so the clock is ticking on Henry’s opportunity to win Lucy’s rather confused head and heart.

With the covert assistance of his publishing friend Don Meyers (the mega-talented Bobby Cannivale, who must have seen the rushes and demanded his scenes be cut), Henry finds out about Jeremy’s duplicitous dedications. He suggests to Lucy that the two of them go to Plank’s Montauk getaway to work on the book, intent on showing her proof of Jeremy’s double-dealing. A sense of guilt forces him to throw the book out of the window. Thanks to his infatuation with Lucy, Henry’s emotional walls are crumbling. Henry also conquers two of his greatest fears, driving (albeit with a helmet on in the back seat) and dealing with something that turns clockwise (the front door key). But Henry’s insecurities resurface when he learns Plank offered Lucy a $200,000 bonus to get the book finished on time. He’s convinced sleeping with him was part of the deal. (In which case Lucy should have asked for double.) Heartbroken, Lucy departs and winds up collaborating with a new writer (Peter Bogdanovich in a cameo role. Wisely, he says nothing.) Lucy plans to marry Jeremy and move to England. Defeated, Henry goes to the rooftop of his building to commiserate with Randy:

Randy: So you thought she was the one. A guy meets nine hundred girls during his mating years. So you think she might be the one in nine hundred? Still, a a devastating blow.
Henry: Well at least I have you.

Randy jumps off of the roof. By now, you’ll want to do the same. The abrupt removal of Henry’s emotional crutch forces him to act on his own in order to win back Lucy. Can he do it? Will you care? Naaaaah.

If the actors have any skills, they’re saving them for other films. Howard Rollins look-alike Billy Crudup (who needs a name change) can’t ring any sympathy out of his snide, pathetic character. When his emotional icing begins to melt, he goes from bitchy to buffoon. His crud is definitely up throughout the film. Tom Wilkinson’s curmudgeonly Randy could have provided some substance, or at least a few laughs, but his performance and life are cut short. Bunched up Bob Balaban and bosom buddy Bobby Cannivale (who’s only in one scene) aren’t given a chance to contribute, and Diane Wiest is a waste as Lucy’s mother, who’s only function is tease her daughter with good intent and then yank it away. Wiest is one of the few actors to star in the watershed drama “Law and Order” and look boring. She’s more so here, and her character is an illogical unnecessary mess.

Mandy Moore appears as a brunette, her shiny, almost purple hair giving her an unbecoming Goth look. Her hair has a life of its own. It spills in her face in a scene with Crudup in which she’s looking into a telescope. Her face winds up completely covered, making her look like a Greenwich Village Cousin It. The dark tresses accent the moles (or warts) on Moore’s face. I swear, they multiply and disappear at will during the course of the film. Her biggest peak is a Cindy Crawford beauty mark near her upper lip. It made Cindy look sexy, but gives Mandy a third eye effect, and when two other facial anomalies pop up, it’s connect the dots time. I’m far from perfect (or handsome), and we should all be grateful the producers decided to make Mandy look as normal as possible, but the witch around the caldron look isn’t good for anybody. Spend some money on make up for Christ sakes.

Less distracting, but still noticeable, is Moore’s height advantage over Crudup. In the 40s leading ladies teamed up with vertically challenged leading man Alan Ladd (he was generously listed as 5’ 5”) had to stand in a trench in order to see eye to eye with him. I’m not saying the same had to be done here, but there’s a scene on the beach with a stooped Crudup (now that sounds like an affliction, doesn’t it?) with Moore standing nearby that’s bound to add doubt to any physical attraction between these two. I had the pleasure of dating two women who were 5’ 10”, so yes, height can be irrelevant in real life, but this is Hollywood, folks. Somebody should have been on top of that.

As for Moore’s acting – she should be glad she’s got a singing career. She can’t act a lick, and that’s saying a lot in a picture where just a whiff of talent would have made her look as skilled as Betty Davis.

I’m certainly not a conservative (although I was an altar boy until I discovered the wine stash), but there’s a lot of pointless profanity tossed about. They should have cut some of this s*# *out.

Be good to yourself. Don’t dedicate a moment of your life to this complete downer of a tax write off. Gamera should swallow any trace of “Dedication” whole.

Posted February 11, 2008 Permalink