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July 2008

My Blueberry Nights

My Blueberry Nights Jude Law, Norah Jones 1.5 out of 5 stars Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson

Nora Jones can’t sing. In “Blueberry Nights” she proves she can’t act either. Her performance is so stiff, so alarmingly flatlined that coroners must’ve trailed behind her on the set to check her for a pulse.

Writer/director Wong Ker Wai deserves a pie in the face for casting a novocained novice in the lead. He also signed up an impressive list of acting luminaries to support Ravi Shanker’s daughter, including Jude Law, David Straitharn, Rachel Wiesz, Frankie Faison and Natalie Portman. But Jones’ ineptitude is contagious. Steely screen hunk Jude Law is hapless as Jeremy, the owner of a late night Manhattan diner that specializes in good food and few customers. His puppy dog performance is a mix of Leslie Howard at his most fey and the Galloping Gourmet. The usually reliable Portman deserves a booberry for her antediluvian assessment of an overblown trailer park trashette who has absolutely no sensible connection to the very reserved character played by Jones. Fortunately, the midpoint of the film focuses on Straitharn, Weisz and Faison, who remind us that good actors can overcome a padded, hackneyed script. Skip to their section and avoid the agita the rest of “Blueberry Nights” induces.

Ker Wai fashioned a full-length script from a short story he’d written about a jilted woman who pours her heart out to the owner of a diner who’s oblivious to his infatuation with her. Jeremy a transplanted Brit from Manchester (Law, acting like a man who can’t get date, yeah that’s believable), is the proprietor of the diner where Elizabeth (Novocain Jones) parks her tookus one night to prattle on about how she’s been wronged by her cheating boyfriend. Instead of drinking her troubles away (well, she does that too), Elizabeth downs plates of blueberry pie with ice cream. Why blueberry? Because Elizabeth feels as neglected as Jeremy’s blueberry pie.

Elizabeth leaves Manhattan in an attempt to forget her pain, traveling to Memphis. Why Memphis? I don’t know, except Wai has an Elvis fixation. Elizabeth takes on two jobs to save up money for a car, working in a café during the day (get the irony?) and at a small local bar at night run by Travis (Frankie Faison, who’s comfortable playing the gruff bar owner with a philosopher’s heart.) She meets Arnie, a broken, pathetic red-eyed drunk by night and a likeable policeman by day (David Straitharn, who deserves an Oscar just for getting through his scenes with the mummified Jones). Arnie spends his nights bent over the bar, drinking until he can barely see, because his wife, Sue Lynn (hubba hubba Rachel Weisz giving her best ever performance) is tramping it up with the local stud. He takes his anger out on the rural Romeo, introducing a bottle to his skull, before taking some hearty swings at him with a pool stick and line dancing on his face. Instead of bringing Sue Lynn back to him, Arnie’s desperate act drives her further away. Angry and embarrassed Arnie confronts her:

Sue Lynn: You’re not my husband anymore. You’ve got to let me go!
(She slaps him repeatedly. He pulls a gun.)
Arnie: I swear if you walk out of here, I’ll kill you.
Sue Lynn: Then what? IT’S OVER!

Arnie’s anger gives way to blubbering devotion and he lowers the gun. That night he leaves the bar more bleary-eyed and pixilated than before. Crashing his truck into a telephone pole, he leaves everyone wondering if his broken heart drove him to kill himself.

Another customer in the café is Leslie (a miscast Natalie Portman), a cocky, carefree gambler with the fashion sense of Madam (the puppet, although she looks and acts like that kind of a madam too). Leslie gets cleaned out in a showdown with a baby-faced rival and asks Elizabeth if she can borrow the money she’s saved to get back in the game. Leslie promises that if she loses she’ll give Elizabeth her new Jaguar. Leslie returns downcast, and asks Elizabeth to drive her to Las Vegas so she can hit her father up for more money. Leslie gets a phone call that she asks Elizabeth to answer, telling Leslie that her father is dying in a hospital. She refuses to believe the news, thinking her father is trying to trick her into seeing him. When Elizabeth insists they check, she’s told Leslie’s father is dead. Leslie wants to keep the car, which she admits she stole from her father. (Guess it’s an inheritance thing.) Leslie also confesses that she lied to Elizabeth, that she’d won her last bet and had tricked Elizabeth into coming with her because she didn’t want to face her journey back home alone. She pays back Elizabeth with interest and Lizzie buys a car and drives back to New York where you can bet there’s some blueberry pie waiting for her.

David Straitharn has never given a bad performance in any movie I’ve ever seen him in. He was superb as pitcher Eddie Ciccote in “Eight Men Out,” a hard-working Chicago White Sox hurler who helped throw the 1919 World Series because he felt he was being underpaid. I’ve seen plenty of crushed men and women who drink themselves legless in the hope of forgetting a doomed relationship. Straitharn skillfully depicts a broken barfly’s slurred speech, watery eyes and hangdog expression without being maudlin or borderline comedic. You can identify with Arnie even if you’re a tea totaler, because he’s the guy in every bar you see with a hidden past who keeps to himself, sadly looking straight ahead as he embalms himself night after night. Frankie Faison doesn’t get much screen time as Travis, but the venerable character actor makes it clear he understands Arnie’s self-torture. He wants Arnie to move on, and he has no love or respect for Sue Lynn. As Sue Lynn, Weisz is dead-on as a sensual, slinky, Southern slut who’s seemingly over Arnie’s smothering obsession with her. Weisz’s teary assessment of their marriage and her true feelings for Arnie produces the movie’s most moving scene: “He was so crazy about me I couldn’t breathe. So we tried drinking our way back into love and it never made sense in the morning. So I ran, and every time I came back he was here and he was still crazy about me…I just wanted him to let go of me, and now that he has, it hurts more than anything else in the whole world.”

Natalie Portman’s dialogue says tough cookie, but her trumped up, loud mannerisms can’t hide the fact that she doesn’t have a clue as to how to act like the fast-talking card sharp Leslie is supposed to be, so she comes off as a delinquent version of Peter Pan.
As for Jones, I’ll say it again. She puts the boo in booberry nights.

Look for another singer, “Cat Power” (Charlyn Chan Marshall) in a cameo as Law’s ex-girlfriend Katia, the Russian woman who broke his heart (yeah, right). Cat’s lack of even a remote Slavic accent notwithstanding, she’s ten times the actress Jones is – and she can’t act either. Cat purrs a bit with Law as the two share sly glances and memories. As the scene progresses Marshall begins to pose rather than act, as if she’s becoming self-conscious. Her performance crashes faster than Toonces the Cat driving a car. To summarize Charlyn Marshall’s performance, I’ll paraphrase the late James Doohan, Scotty on Star Trek: Cat, you haven’t got the power.

Cat fares better on the soundtrack, which thankfully uses two of her stronger tunes (“Living Proof” and “The Greatest”) to one of Jones weakest, (“The Story”). (Dir) not so subtly indicates shifts in the plot or the introduction of new characters by changing the background music. Jones’ segment with Law gets “The Greatest;” Arnie’s theme song is Otis Redding’s “Try A Little Tenderness;” Sue Lynn gets Ruth Brown’s bloozy “Looking Back,” and Cat Power makes her appearance after Cassandra Wilson’s butt-clenching version of Neil Young’s “Harvest Moon.” Advantage, Otis.

An Extra Slice of Booberry

The blueberry’s on special when you check out the extras. If the film itself had as much depth as the extras, Norah Jones might be preparing for her next screen role…NAH. “Blueberry Nights” extras include the theatrical trailer (do not view prior to or after eating), still galleries, a Q & A with director Wai and a “Making of Blueberry Nights” featurette. Wai’s interview was filmed at the Museum of Moving Image with Chief Curator David Schwartz politely softballing questions. Wai justifies his choice of Jones by saying it’s not uncommon for actresses in Hong Kong to also be singers. Well there’s two problems with that logic, Mr. Wai -- we ain’t in Hong Kong, and since Madonna blazed a trail across the screen there haven’t been that many singers who’ve distinguished themselves on the screen.

“The Making of…” gives the actors a chance to expound on their characters. Law’s performance may have been profane, but it wasn’t from his lack of familiarity with his character: “Jeremy is sort of a collection of promises and broken dreams. He’s always keeping himself busy, always smiling. He avoids things by running.”

Also revealed in the extras is the reason Rachel Weisz’s performance is so intense (according to Wai)…

There have been a number of singers who were able to parlay their successful recording careers into equally profitable turns in movies -- Bing Crosby, Dean Martin, and Bobby Darin to name a few. But for every Frank Sinatra, Julie Andrews, or Mark Wahlberg there’s a Mariah Carey, Bette Midler, or Norah Jones. But wait, Jones can’t do either, and ultimately, it’s her lack screen of screen presence that cooks “Blueberry Nights.”

Posted July 20, 2008 Permalink

Genesis - When In Rome 2007

Genesis When In Rome 2007 4 out of 5 stars Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson

I broke procedure in reviewing the new 3 DVD set by Genesis by starting out with the 1 hour 50 minute “Come Rain or Shine” documentary, the third DVD that chronicles Genesis’ 2007 reunion tour. I’d advise you to do the same. If you’re Genesis fan, you know that after a 15 year-break, the Phil Collins-Mike Rutherford-Tony Banks triumvirate wasn’t going to release any in-concert footage that’s not note-for-note perfect, so the 2 DVDs devoted to their free concert in Rome in front of 500,000 fans are flawless. (Some of the song selections are heinous, but we’ll get to that.). The final European concert was captured in incredibly crisp tones and hues by director David Mallet. The “Come Rain or Shine” documentary, directed by film maker Anthony Mathile, will provide you with many insights (and inside jokes) that will further your enjoyment of the concert. You’ll understand the epic saga of “Conversation With Two Stools” for one, and appreciate the yeoman effort the design crew, lighting techs and stage minions put into erecting, testing and altering the monolithic, 10 million dollar special effects-laden stage.

The feature-length “Come Rain or Shine” puts the viewer ringside at many important junctures of the tour, including the seven months before it began when Rutherford, Banks and a politely testy Collins endured the press junkets and photo shoots promoting their long-awaited reunion. “We’re doing 20 shows in Europe,’ says Collins. “You do forty and you do twenty without the lead singer.” The trio also faces the inevitable question of whether or not Peter Gabriel and Steve Hackett will participate. Viewers get an off stage glimpse of the group at early rehearsals as they chip away the rust -- Collins for one can’t remember the words, and is gassed after a few passes on his drum kit. “You yearn for the nostalgia of doing it, but when you get there it’s hard work isn’t it?” comments Rutherford after a sluggish get together.

Bearish band Manager Tony Smith distinguishes himself as the group’s valuable unsung leader behind the scenes, hashing out last-minute details with the technical crew and taking them to task when badly-needed computer generated special effects look and act less than special. Smith is all over nerdy video engineer Richard Turner when he realizes the technical crew has created a zillion complicated special effects – and no one to run them! Enter Brian Miles, who looks like a doe about to meet his maker in front of a sixteen wheeler. Whether or not Miles can master the mountain of cues a mere 72 hours before the first show (particularly the “Running Man” effect in “The Cage”) is one of the absorbing dramas that play out during the course of the in-depth documentary. Another is the crew’s ongoing battle with the weather. When massive thunderstorms postpone shows three and four, rain gets into the lights and the gear, making it difficult for the stage hands to load in and out. Musicians will “get” this part and be fascinated at way the crew can install and tear down the massive stage without frying themselves. “The rain is severely testing everything now,” an antsy to perform Collins comments. “It’s testing the equipment and patience, it’s unbelievable.”

It’s not surprising how little Collins is involved in logistics -- as a singer I can tell you all we do is show up for the performance! Collins is in on a few meetings, but from the very beginning it’s obvious he’d rather spend time with his family, that he’s going to put his efforts into his performance, and he’ll gladly let Rutherford and Banks handle the off stage business.

The third subplot seems like a running joke, but at least two members of the crew take it very seriously when it becomes their task to scower the landscape to look for bar stools for drummers Collins and Chester Thompson can play them onstage. It’s hard to believe that hours before a sold out reunion tour two grown men have to go to a furniture warehouse to test stools. Not only do the men get lost, they leave with the wrong stool and have to go back. Upon receipt of the cushiony seat, an unimpressed Collins comments, “It’s nice, as far as stools go.”

As far as revelations go, viewers will learn more about Collins relationship with Banks (they haven’t always been buddies), how a book brought the triumvirate closer together, that Banks has actually “loosened up” over the years, and how Collins copes with being the group’s front man.

And let’s settle this once and for all, kids... Some folks believe there is no Genesis without Peter Gabriel. Au contraire. Genesis floundered under Gabriel’s direction, birthing twenty-minute, ponderous suites that would have put anyone with insomnia under. They had tremendous success when Gabriel departed and went on to even greater glory when talented but out-of-step guitarist Steve couldn’t Hackett anymore. By 2007, Gabriel’s solo career was so far removed from his work in Genesis that despite the wishes of Genesis purists, he had no intention of putting on his frog suits and make up to gurgle “Supper’s Ready” or “The Musical Box.” It’s ironic that the group chose to end the DVDs with songs associated with Gabriel (“I Know What I Like (In Your Wardrobe)” and “Carpet Crawlers”). It’s a concession to Gabriel’s lingering presence, but I also think they’re great songs that get the crowd singing along with the group. As for Hackett, well, with a guy as proficient as Daryl Steurmer around, he simply wasn’t necessary.

Each song has its own set of extras. The extra extras are neat minute-long segments not found in the documentary that Genesis devotees will undoubtedly savor. Hit the interactive icon that appears in the upper left hand of the screen just before the song begins and you’ll be taken to the rehearsal hall, the group’s hotel rooms, or the factory where the stage was constructed. For example, the extra extras for “I Know What I Like (In Your Wardrobe)” include a look at Phil Collins’ stash of memorabilia. Collins has proudly saved articles and one-of-a-kind photos from the group’s earliest days, many of which end up as background visuals for their stage show. You’ll also get to hear Stuermer, Rutherford and Banks tentatively practice their background vocals for “I Know What I Like.” Press the icon for “Follow You, Follow Me,” and you’ll be taken to “Mike Wants Phil’s Feel On the Drums.” Rutherford thinks Chester Thompson’s drumming is “too heavy” for the song and asks Collins if he can drum and sing. He’s right. Collins has a lighter touch that suits the wistful arrangement, and multi-tasking doesn’t affect his vocal. The extra extra for “Ripples” is particularly enjoyable – an acoustic version of the song done by the boys in a hotel room. It has its own charm because Collins’ voice is exposed with no production help, and he equips himself well, even though he doesn’t remember all the words!

Nearly every song is a testament to perfection. I counted only one flaw – when Collins couldn’t decide how he wanted to improvise the ending to “I Know What I Like (in Your Wardrobe),” and even that was only a momentary glitch. If you look at the documentary you’ll understand that after nearly two decades apart this type of quality doesn’t automatically manifest itself, so whether you like the group or not, they didn’t bank the cash and put it on automatic pilot; they worked hard to get back into fighting shape.

The focus of the concert is, of course, on Collins, who may not be very ambulatory, but has maintained his impish heart, serving as a cheerleader and even attempting to introduce some of the songs in Italian. Rutherford periodically grins in the background, but his strength is bolting down the beat on bass or serving up concise, seconds-long solos (short, the way guitar solos should be!). The musical MVPs are hired hands Chester Thompson, who’s a bit more lead footed than Collins on the drums, but is a studied pro, and Darryl Steurmer, who plays a thick bass when Rutherford suits up on guitar and generally outplays him when he gets to solo on the six string, recreating the group’s hardest riffs without breaking a sweat. The real star (musically) is Tony Banks, whose fingers never stop moving across the keyboards as he shows a mastery of the classical, pop and rock styles the group embraces. Unfortunately, Banks never looks up from his keys – not even at his bandmates, and he never smiles, making it appear as if he’s not enjoying himself. From a viewer’s standpoint, allowing Banks to spend the entire concert as the musician in a bubble dulls the thrill a bit. Good thing there’s also lot of computer generated imagery to satisfy the eyes if you get tired of looking at pugnacious Phil.

Moto Bene, Genesis (The Good Stuff)

The group’s performance of “Ripples” goes beyond great to majestic. The music crests during the choruses and Collins can still infuse the lyrics with drama and irony. Banks, hunched over his keys, plays with the expertise of Van Clyburn. The romantic crowd-pleaser elicits much arm-waving and swaying from the teary-eyed audience.

The other arm-waving crowd-pleaser is “Carpet Crawlers,” from “The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway,” Gabriel’s last L.P. with the band. In the “Sing Along” extra extra, Collins openly frets that after two hours of singing he won’t be able to hit the necessary high notes (“You gotta get in to get ow ow ooooout”). As a novice singer who’s had to pound out “Try A Little Tenderness” as a closing number, I feel ya, Phil. Banks stays bent over his piano like Schroeder ignoring Lucy, and Steurmer shines on guitar, showering the verses with sonic beauty throughout. The audience loves it as well, and proves it with more arm-waving.

Another satisfying nod to the Gabriel era is “I Know What I Like (In Your Wardrobe),” a quirky sing-along that gets the extended treatment with Collins encouraging audience participation. Collins draws on his experience as a child actor, mugging, dancing and stirring up happy vibes. It’s nice to see the band, which is a bit business-like and stiff, have a little fun. (Everyone except Banks, of course!)

Collins propels “Follow You, Follow Me” with gentle fills on the drums and a sincere vocal; Steurmer bears down for a sinful solo on “Land of Confusion,” which bubbles like a caustic cauldron, and the first half of “Domino” (subtitled “In The Glow of the Night”) drifts along on cloud-like beauty. (The second half, “The Last Domino” is a rushed, nasty piece that leaves you feeling you been chucked over Niagara Falls in a paper bag). The brisk “Turn It On Again” is note-perfect, and includes an intro jam that verifies the group’s impressive power as a cooperative entity.

The tempting ballad “Hold On My Heart” bathes the band in warm violet and blue hues. Collins takes five, performing while sitting on a stool (there’s that stool thing again!). His casual approach gives the song a heightened sense of intimacy, and you’ll hear how essential Banks’ blanketing keyboards are.

“I Can’t Dance” is still as irreverent as ever, and Collins, Steurmer and Rutherford resurrect the ape walk used in the video for the enjoyment of the audience. The stodgy Rutherford proves he can lay down a funky Average White Band riff, and Collins turns on the schmaltz.

Basta! (Songs That Should Have Stayed Retired)

There are a number of performances where the group’s ambitions can’t outweigh the fact that some of the material stunk like the Jersey turnpike fifteen years ago and has further decayed with age. “The Cage” mixes together snatches of songs (including “Cinema Show” and “Duke’s Travels”) that bombard the audience with schizophrenic dreck for ten minutes, despite Brian Miles’ ability to execute the complicated trick of the “Running Man” sequence. Steurmer plays another crisp lead in “Fifth of Firth,” which is just an excuse for Collins to stay on the drums after “Follow You, Follow me” and duel with Thompson.

One of my favs, “Throwing It All Away” loses it’s sentimentality due to Collins’ improvised dingo scat intro and a pace that pushes it out of the ballad category. “No Son of Mine” is simply a horrible tale of father/son regret that never fails to disappoint, despite Collins’ arching his eyebrows to prove how profound the song is. But the biggest waste of film is “Conversation With Two Stools.” It’s a lame idea that I thought was a running joke on the documentary DVD, but Collins was serious. He and Thompson face off in front of 500,000 people playing bar stools! No matter how heavily the stools are miked, they still sound like drum pads – which is what they should have used in the first place! The segment does provide a few cool visuals as the camera eavesdrops on the two drummers from overhead, or tightens to reveal they’re in sync and conversatin’. Both men eventually shift to the drums for the inevitable drum battle that leads into the awful instrumental “Los Endos.” Too bad they didn’t endos this idea in rehearsal.

“When In Rome” recaptures the birth of a supergroup from Genesis to the final bow. Hopefully, the group won’t wait another fifteen years to perform again, (because if they can’t dance now, they’ll never be able to boogie in wheelchairs). In the meantime, “When In Rome” is a magnifico tribute to an 80s icon. Bravissimo!

Posted July 20, 2008 Permalink

The Air I Breathe

The Air I Breathe Forest Whitaker, Sarah Michelle Gellar 3.5 out of 5 stars Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson

The 2008 crime drama “The Air I Breathe” has nothing to do with the Hollies 1974 song (That was “The Air That I Breathe”), but it’s just as big a hit.

The film breaks down into four segments focusing on four characters. “Happiness” is played by Forest Whitaker, “Pleasure” by Brendan Fraser, “Sorrow” by Sarah Michelle Geller, and “Love” by Kevin Bacon. None of the characters names are mentioned in the film (proving you can go through life calling people “Hey You!” “Buddy,” or “Yo, Man!”). Geller’s character is referred to by her stage name, Trista, and at least two characters, an ambushing interviewer and “Pleasure” (Fraser), become fixated on trying to get her to tell them what her real name is. The film’s unifying character is “Fingers,” played with zeal by Andy Garcia.

Whitaker’s “Happiness” is a broker fascinated by butterflies. His life is a bore, his co-workers ridicule him, and he spends his nights dumb-dusted in front of the TV. He makes stock transactions, earning millions for others, including “Pleasure” (Brendan Fraser), who challenges him to take a chance for once in his life. After over hearing his co-workers talking about a “sure thing” in an upcoming horse race, Happiness bets over his head, borrowing $50,000 from Fingers. In a tragic turn of events the horse loses, and Fingers gives Happiness an ultimatum, come up with the money or find out how he got his nickname. Fingers gives Happiness a hint by demonstrating on another bettor in arrears who hasn’t paid his debt.

Fingers: You know why they call me fingers?
Happiness: No.
Fingers: Well, Mr. Parks knows why they call me fingers because two weeks ago he came by because he felt like gambling. He lost and neglected paying what he owes me. What does he do? He tries to run. What is it with you guys? You come here, you lose, and I gotta come here and be the bad guy. I can’t enjoy the opera because I gotta come here and be the bad guy. You think I enjoy this?
Happiness: You have no choice.

Happiness decides to rob a bank, and the joy of the act provides him true happiness and freedom. (The end result, not so much.)

Fraser’s “Pleasure” serves as Fingers’ muscle, collecting his debts through persuasion whenever possible, but otherwise using more convincing conventional methods. Pleasure has the ability to see into the future, although he’s powerless to change it. Pleasure is anything but – an unsmiling, dour man comprised of grunts and one word responses. When he and his brother children they were jumped by neighborhood bullies. Able to foresee the punches the bullies were going to throw, Pleasure beat up both boys, only to have his brother die accidentally. He’s lived with guilt ever since. He meets Trista, a soul-less pop star under contract to Fingers, and immediately becomes fascinated with her when he discovers he can’t see her future. (“The girl with the future I can’t see enters my life. On the same day, my visions fail me for the first time.”). When Fingers threatens to kill Trista unless she goes out on the road to repay her debts, Pleasure hides her in his apartment, setting up an inevitable showdown between the two men.

The third plot turns the spotlight on Trista, and viewers get to see her relationships with Sorrow and Fingers unfold from her point of view. Kevin Bacon plays “Love” a doctor (hey, Dr. Love) in the weakest of the four plots. He’s besotted with his best friend’s wife Gina, (an indolent Julia Delpy), and apparently has been for a very long time. (Can you say, time to move on, loser?) Gina, a brilliant, beautiful biologist (is there any other kind in the movies?) gets bitten by a poisonous snake and has only hours to live unless she gets a transfusion of rare blood. A seemingly innocuous comment made by Trista in an interview may be the key to saving Gina’s life.

Okay, the poisonous snake thing is a real stretch, even more so than a man who can see into the future and can’t elevate himself to a higher station in life than thug. But you’ll like the way the plots intertwine. Whitaker’s character is knocked to the ground as he tries to escape the police at the beginning of the movie and the driver is revealed at its conclusion, neatly tying together the fates of the two characters.

I don’t subscribe to the blather that our birth signs, crevices in our hands, or bumps on or noggins can predict a person’s future, but the film is based on the premise that life is based on four emotions – happiness, pleasure, sorrow and love. (They forgot lust and passion, but I guess you could file them under pleasure.) If you believe in cosmic claptrap grasshopper, such as the obvious significance of the butterflies in the first segment, then “The Air I Breathe” will take on a far heavier meaning. I just liked the way the plots and characters wind up weaving together.

The origin of Fingers’ nickname is one of the touches at twisted comedy by writer Jicho Lee (who also directed the film) and Bob DeRosa. You already know how Happiness thinks Fingers got his title. In the “Pleasure” segment, Fingers’ nephew, Tony, brags to Fraser’s character that his uncle earned the tag “Because all he has to do is snap his fingers and people do what he says.” In “Love,” Fingers gives Trista his own patently false explanation: “They call me Fingers because I like to talk with my hands.” You gotta love a character that goes beyond being duplicitous.

Having perfected the ability to play schlubs and desperate losers, Forest Whitaker hutches his shoulders, lowers his gaze, and acts like a sheared sheep. This is the same man who showed joie de vive as the man eating Idi Amin in giving an Oscar winning performance in “The King of Scotland.” Yeah, he can act circles around other leading men, but more importantly, he knows how to immerse himself in to the skin of whatever character he’s playing. Happiness starts out as a 9 to 5 zombie who’s never taken a chance in life. He takes a chance, fails, and yet is liberated by the experience, a lesson we can all take to the bank.

Sarah Michelle Geller made her name slaying vampires on TV. Now she’s slaying audiences with her outside-of-the-box portrayals. Her character lives a lifetime on screen. Starting out as an empty headed, bitchy pop star, she becomes Fingers’ indentured servant, is freed by her love for Pleasure and grows into a strong-willed, compassionate woman who embraces a second chance at life. With this performance Geller can put a stake in the heart of any criticism that she was at her best as a female Van Helsing.

If Geller’s acting is a staggering, then Brendan Fraser’s is a revelation. We’re talking about an actor whose best role was playing a funnier version of Indiana Jones in “The Mummy.” Fraser’s niche has been a crowd pleaser playing oafs (“Bedazzled,” “Dudley Do-Right”), so who knew this dude could act? Okay, maybe you don’t consider playing strong and silent a stretch, but that’s all Gary Cooper ever did and there are people out there who swear he could act. In Fraser’s case, we’re talking about a guy whose reason for being used to be mugging for the camera. Now his role requires him to remain stone-faced, to let a glance, a gesture, or God forbid, actual dialogue represent his character. Give his character the added burden of foresight, and Fraser’s got a lot of dramatic tension to convey. (And I wondered, as Tony, Fingers’ nephew points out, why Happiness couldn’t just predict a few lottery numbers and retire from the loan sharking business.) Although his character’s ability to see the future is a fanciful stretch against the rest of the film’s vivid reality, Fraser makes it work, because the audience knows his frowning countenance and tight-lipped responses mask a raging sea of inner turmoil.

Kevin Bacon’s role of a doctor in love with his best friend’s wife is the thinnest of the quartet of stars. He wears his puppy dog love on his sleeve so much you’d think Julia Delphy’s character would have politely told him to get a girlfriend long ago. She loves him too, but not enough to wreck her life with the man she married. Bacon has the unenviable task of turning his loser at love character into a hero. The part of me that carried a torch for an unobtainable woman for way to long understood, but you have to extinguish that torch sometime buddy, or else you’ll spend the rest of your life walking around with a big “L” on your forehead. So I didn’t buy Bacon’s character not being able to move on and find his own Gina after ten years. Bacon’s a great actor, but he’s undercut by his character’s dilemma. Whitaker’s character is pathetic, yet pitiable; Bacon’s is desperate, and as a result his performance is frantic and contrived. Don’t blame Kevin, blame writers Lee and DeRosa for running out of steam.

Andy Garcia’s “Fingers” is yet another gangster type that the actor can convey at will. Although he’s ruthless when it comes to his empire, Fingers does cherish his relationship with Fraser’s character. The scene in which he realizes Pleasure has betrayed him allows Garcia to display the small acre of humanity within his character. It goes on and off like a light switch, then it’s back to the business at hand. Like I said, Garcia knows how to play a hoodlum predator, so his performance is effortless and gratifying.

Kelly Hu is breathtaking in her one scene and animated Emile Hirsch provides homeboy comic relief as Fingers’ street-level cousin, whose specialty seems to be paison-ics:

Eddie (Finger’s henchman): That the bosses nephew?
Tony (looking at Fingers’ desk): What? This f***king thing is huge!
(Pleasure nods yes.)
Eddie: What’s he like?
Tony: F***k me! This is just like f***k!
Pleasure: Articulate.

Take a whiff of “The Air I Breathe.” It’s edgy, quirky, and at times decidedly strange. You’ll enjoy the rarefied air of Fraser and Geller’s stellar performances.

Posted July 20, 2008 Permalink