I already knew going in that Peter Bogdanovich is the director of The Cat's Meow, but what I didn't know was that it is based on a stage play. As far as I'm concerned, that combination is Unisom onscreen. Aside from most Shakespeare adaptations and a few exceptions, stage plays on film just don't work for me. And Bogdanovich's directing style has always been a bit too languid for my taste (Paper Moon and Mask being deviations) -- I much prefer him as a writer or as an actor.
However, I was encouraged by the subject matter. I love the Roaring Twenties era, and I am intrigued by the players in this real-life murder mystery. (Bogdanovich has expressly requested that film reviewers refrain from revealing the murder victim, but even if the rumored story wasn't already common knowledge, you pretty much know who's gonna get it from the git-go.) I was hoping for a sort of Agatha Christie meets Citizen Kane dynamic, but what I got was dropping eyelids.
The setting is 1924, aboard the original "King of All Media" William Randolph Hearst's yacht, the Oneida. Hearst (Edward Herrmann) and his mistress, silent screen star Marion Davies (Kirsten Dunst), are hosting a weekend getaway for their swanky friends.
The guests all arrive with their baggage, and their, er, baggage: Thomas Ince (Cary Elwes), a once-omnipotent film producer who has seen his fame and fortune wane in recent years, wants to merge with Hearst's empire; Louella "Lolly" Parsons (Jennifer Tilly), a start-up gossip columnist already working for a Hearst paper, wants to move digs from Gotham to Tinseltown; Charlie Chaplin (Eddie Izzard), the notorious womanizer, wants to steal the nubile beauty Marion from Hearst; and the jaded English novelist Elinor Gyn (Joanne Lumley) wants another drink.
There is plenty of fodder for naughty fun here -- lavish dinner parties, flashy costume balls, private film screenings, prohibition-snubbing libations, love, betrayal, and a murder -- but it's all just window-dressing. Bogdanovich does have an obvious appreciation for the era and a loving eye for detail, but in this case he's lost the forest for the trees. I might as well have been looking at a flip-picture book called The Cat's Meow.
While the dialogue is sharply witty in places, it is still stagy dialog. It sounds far too stilted coming from motion picture actor's mouths. One of my favorite actresses of all, Kirsten Dunst, fares the worst here; she actually looks and sounds uncomfortable speaking many of her lines. She is miscast as Davies to begin with, and she never can quite rise above that (Reese Witherspoon would have been purr-fect). One of her scenes early on in the film with Izzard on deck is almost painful to watch. And Izzard just doesn't bring "the Little Tramp" to life at all (it's almost impossible to follow Robert Downey Jr.'s Chaplin, though). Furthermore, I never bought Marion's attraction to him, which is absolutely essential to the plot.
Tilly plays Parsons for laughs (I didn't like the character as a klutzy blunderer), and Herrmann's Hearst is too much a fool for love (I never envisioned him as a powerful mogul). The only two major characters who escape this cinematic shipwreck unscathed are Lumley as the wise, jaded, and droll novelist, and Elwes as the desperate Ince.
The Cat's Meow is shot and directed in an unexpectedly pedestrian manner. Billed as a "thriller," it looks and feels less thrilling than a typical made-for-Lifetime movie. While (I hate to say it) Bogdanovich's best work may be behind him, he is still no slouch. Because he heard this story directly from Orson Welles (the two directors were very close friends) how exciting this movie could have been -- a cool little black comedy with an insider's cachet... but it's not. And lenser Bruno Delbonnel, who shot Amelie with such pizzazz, could have taken advantage of the challenge of shooting an entire film within the confines of cabins... but he didn't.
I hate to be so catty, as I do truly like all the talent involved, but it's a shame: The Cat's Meow could have been catnip -- as it is, it's just a catnap.
The premiere was more lively; check out my interviews with the cast.
However, I was encouraged by the subject matter. I love the Roaring Twenties era, and I am intrigued by the players in this real-life murder mystery. (Bogdanovich has expressly requested that film reviewers refrain from revealing the murder victim, but even if the rumored story wasn't already common knowledge, you pretty much know who's gonna get it from the git-go.) I was hoping for a sort of Agatha Christie meets Citizen Kane dynamic, but what I got was dropping eyelids.
The setting is 1924, aboard the original "King of All Media" William Randolph Hearst's yacht, the Oneida. Hearst (Edward Herrmann) and his mistress, silent screen star Marion Davies (Kirsten Dunst), are hosting a weekend getaway for their swanky friends.
The guests all arrive with their baggage, and their, er, baggage: Thomas Ince (Cary Elwes), a once-omnipotent film producer who has seen his fame and fortune wane in recent years, wants to merge with Hearst's empire; Louella "Lolly" Parsons (Jennifer Tilly), a start-up gossip columnist already working for a Hearst paper, wants to move digs from Gotham to Tinseltown; Charlie Chaplin (Eddie Izzard), the notorious womanizer, wants to steal the nubile beauty Marion from Hearst; and the jaded English novelist Elinor Gyn (Joanne Lumley) wants another drink.
There is plenty of fodder for naughty fun here -- lavish dinner parties, flashy costume balls, private film screenings, prohibition-snubbing libations, love, betrayal, and a murder -- but it's all just window-dressing. Bogdanovich does have an obvious appreciation for the era and a loving eye for detail, but in this case he's lost the forest for the trees. I might as well have been looking at a flip-picture book called The Cat's Meow.
While the dialogue is sharply witty in places, it is still stagy dialog. It sounds far too stilted coming from motion picture actor's mouths. One of my favorite actresses of all, Kirsten Dunst, fares the worst here; she actually looks and sounds uncomfortable speaking many of her lines. She is miscast as Davies to begin with, and she never can quite rise above that (Reese Witherspoon would have been purr-fect). One of her scenes early on in the film with Izzard on deck is almost painful to watch. And Izzard just doesn't bring "the Little Tramp" to life at all (it's almost impossible to follow Robert Downey Jr.'s Chaplin, though). Furthermore, I never bought Marion's attraction to him, which is absolutely essential to the plot.
Tilly plays Parsons for laughs (I didn't like the character as a klutzy blunderer), and Herrmann's Hearst is too much a fool for love (I never envisioned him as a powerful mogul). The only two major characters who escape this cinematic shipwreck unscathed are Lumley as the wise, jaded, and droll novelist, and Elwes as the desperate Ince.
The Cat's Meow is shot and directed in an unexpectedly pedestrian manner. Billed as a "thriller," it looks and feels less thrilling than a typical made-for-Lifetime movie. While (I hate to say it) Bogdanovich's best work may be behind him, he is still no slouch. Because he heard this story directly from Orson Welles (the two directors were very close friends) how exciting this movie could have been -- a cool little black comedy with an insider's cachet... but it's not. And lenser Bruno Delbonnel, who shot Amelie with such pizzazz, could have taken advantage of the challenge of shooting an entire film within the confines of cabins... but he didn't.
I hate to be so catty, as I do truly like all the talent involved, but it's a shame: The Cat's Meow could have been catnip -- as it is, it's just a catnap.
The premiere was more lively; check out my interviews with the cast.