Aptly named, The Constant Gardener specializes in that staple of all ardent horticulturists, prime steer manure. Oliver Stoned would be proud. Gardener makes JFK looked like a legitimate documentary by comparison. With a plot so preposterous and convoluted that only the most obsessed devotee of limousine liberal preachiness could abide it, it depicts drug companies and their evil triplet cohorts, drug testing firms and African politicians, as premeditated murderers of innocents for profit. Nevermind that deliberately marketing a product that kills the user would be an instant recipe for bankruptcy, the writer feels compelled to manipulate the disenchantment and suspicions of his audience with this most obvious stereotypical absurdity. This film is a perfect example of why movie theater attendance is down 12% this summer. The cinematography is abhorrent; grainy, with color tones hybridized from Salvador Dali and leftovers from a food fight, and the now familiar tedious, trendy jerky camera movements of a palsy victim. The lead characters, played well by Weisz and Fiennes, take the Oscars for irritating repugnance and insipidity, respectively. Her early martyrdom comes as a welcome relief, while his futile finale is much too long in coming. When will screenwriters learn not to use entertainment as a megaphone for their pet political philosophies? The only thing that will save this one is a rototiller.
Review of The Constant Gardener
