philblyghton Reviews

White Man's Burden (1995)

Brave attempt at inverting social prejudices, falls just short of hitting the mark.

[5/10 · 8 April 2005]

I expected good things from this film as I tend to admire directors and screenwriters who take a visually arresting premise and manipulate it in order to prompt self reflection in the audience (The Elephant Man for example). In addition, I am a big fan of Travolta and the role seemed an artistically sound one for him to undertake. Initially, the widespread symbolism is interesting and inventive, yet becomes overbearing relatively quickly, and to me it seemed that the director underestimated his audience's perception and continually rammed home his point with the subtlety of Dolph Lundgren.

The film ultimately left me frustrated because I thought the idea was a good one but the story simply wasn't multi-faceted enough to be engaging. Aside from the characters played by Travolta and Belafonte, most of the supporting cast was very underwritten, particularly the families of both men. However, the performances were very good, and I thought Belafonte conveyed the defeatism and inherent arrogance of his role particularly well.

Overall though, I thought this was pseudo-art: it masqueraded as a deep and meaningful examination of the social relevance of race, but ended up as a very simplistic story disguised by delusions of self worth.

5/10

Terms of Endearment (1983)

If you don't cry, then you are simply inhuman. It's as simple as that.

[10/10 · 20 February 2005]

There was recently a list published here in the UK by one of our networks detailing the '100 greatest tearjerking moments' of all time. Unlike in the US, 'tearjerker' is not immediately synonymous with deliberate sentimentality or a directorial bid to use emotion as a tool for clouding the critical merit of a film. Instead the word is taken at face value, and thus films such as ET, Ghost and The Green Mile comprised the top three 'moments'.

In this sense of the word, Terms of Endearment is the definitive tearjerker. Its emotional crescendos are almost impossibly intense, and while the audience is aware of the obvious conclusion almost a hour before it arrives, this does little to blunt the anxiety and pain of the events. The central mother-daughter relationship, acted brilliantly by Shirley Maclaine and particularly Debra Winger, is the axis for the film's events, spread over a large number of years. Writer and director James L.Brooks draws his characters so skilfully and with such an entrenched emotional subtext that, whether we like it or not, we are inescapably involved with them from the outset, and thus the conclusion as a drama is successful. Winger's rocky marriage to husband Jeff Daniels, mirrored by Jack Nicholson's overt courtship of Maclaine, provides Brooks with the ability to analyse what constitutes a strong romantic relationship, and the spiritual bond two people can attain despite having their differences.

All the performances in the film are outstanding. Winger gives a career best and it is an utter travesty that her mainstream movie 'shelf-life' was prematurely cut short by drug addiction. While Maclaine won the Oscar for her portrayal of Aurora, I agree with other comments on this site that it should have been Winger. Jack Nicholson also won an Oscar and is typically reliable in his role, as are Daniels and John Lithgow (much under-rated as a dramatic actor: all that Third Rock has pigeon-holed him a bit I feel).

The ending simply demands tears, and I will rather boldly assert that if someone claims not to be at least a bit dewey-eyed at the time the credits role, then they simply haven't devoted enough attention to the film. Brooks is one of the best directors still working and his brief yet impressive catalogue leaves me in great anticipation of his future release 'Spanglish'. Please watch this film, you will be richly rewarded if you involve yourself with it enough.

It must come as no surprise that I award this film 10/10.

Waterworld (1995)

Not the unmitigated disaster it's made out to be, but still pretty awful

[4/10 · 9 January 2005]

The four saddest words in the English language are "what might have been", and Waterworld certainly fits into this template: an interesting premise hampered by terrible direction, a script so full of dud one-liners it makes your average adult film sound like Shakespeare, and acting (with the possible exception of Costner) that is cringeworthy in the extreme. The stunt sequences are simply too boring to even care about, and while Costner is one of the biggest movie stars of the past two decades, action man he ain't.

Inexplicably, the direction team seems to have given Dennis Hopper a carte blanche to shamelessly overact whenever possible. While this style was disarmingly effective in some of his earlier movies (such as Blue Velvet), he is just laughable here: producing an array of facial contortions complete with the frequent eye-bulging symptomatic of a drug addict. If this is supposed to be the point, it fails miserably, as Hopper's maniacal laughter and irrational gesturing made me want to personally set fire to his union membership forms. Costner is far more restrained (some have argued that Costner is never anything OTHER than restrained) as the mysterious boatman with the novelty earring, and he is somewhat believable in his role without ever really getting under the skin (gills?) of his character. The real problem lies in the the performance of Jeanne Tripplehorn, as the the maternal survivor of Hopper's plot to destroy their floating communal home. Quite simply, Tripplehorn is disastrous, on a par with Madonna in Swept Away and your choice of Affleck or Lopez in Gigli. I'm trying to think of terrible performances, and ultimately Tripplehorn shares the award with Elizabeth Hurley in Bedazzled. Suffice to say, she's not up to much.

The romantic moments (usually a reliable facet of typical Costner films) have little or no chemistry due to the detailing of Costner's character as an emotionless iceman. But to be fair to him, I wouldn't have any romantic inclinations towards Jeanne Tripplehorn either.

That said, Waterworld has its moments. The occasional action piece is well constructed, and the conclusion (whilst a sentimental cop out) is satisfactory.

Overall, though, this is a blot on the careers of all involved.

4/10

A Fish Called Wanda (1988)

Quintessential British Comedy: Cleese's individual arrival on the big screen.

[10/10 · 7 January 2005]

The biggest challenge when watching this movie is to overcome the temptation to hurl as many superlatives at it as is humanly possible. This is the quintessential British comedy, superior in my view to its apparent successor 'Four Weddings and a Funeral', and a beacon of excellence in a sea of turgid, uninspired offerings from film-makers of a similar era. I have always found John Cleese to be Britain's finest comedian of the past 50 years: and while I'm enticed to use this space as a simple eulogy to his genius, it is important to note that Wanda is far from a one man show. That said, if Cleese is to be remembered for anything other than his magnum opus Fawlty Towers, Wanda would be a fitting touchstone.

Director Charles Crichton (a veteran of several 1950s Ealing comedies such as 'The Lavender Hill Mob') assembled a truly fantastic cast: Kevin Kline and Jamie Lee Curtis add trans-Atlantic flair to the proceedings, with Kline particularly brilliant as the psychotic Otto, a hit-man with a penchant for seafood.... Although it's fair to say that the best lines are distributed equally among the cast, Kline bags more than an ample share, and has proved to be one of the more quotable comedic characters of recent times ("I'm, uh, Harvey. Manfred... jen... sen... den"). Jamie Lee Curtis is not quite as convincing as the conniving Wanda, yet more than holds her own while her colleagues produce their finest work (indeed, Kline was awarded an Oscar for his performance). There is excellent support from British actors Maria Aitkin and Tom Georgeson, and of course the wonderful Michael Palin as stuttering Ken, the animal lover.

The writing from Cleese is often unnervingly sharp: every single sentence seems to be laced with aesthetic value, and this is a fine achievement considering the film runs for nearly two hours. The farcical scenes (such as Cleese's attempt to hide his affair with Wanda from his wife) are achingly funny, exploiting both Cleese's inimitable brand of physical humour and the frequent juxtapositioning of the attitudes of British and American people towards romance, sex and relationships at large.

I love the film. As an ardent 'Towers' fan, this humour is tailor-made for my tastes. While the plot is sometimes a little TOO convoluted for perhaps its own good (a little bit of indulgence from Cleese no doubt), this is still film-making of the highest calibre and remains my favourite comedy to date. Very Highly Recommended 9.5/10

Tin Cup (1996)

Scores high (or low? this is a golf movie after all)

[10/10 · 7 January 2005]

Some actors are born to play a certain type of character. A youthful Tom Cruise was the archetypal wise-cracking upstart with aspirations for future greatness; Mark Ruffalo (of Collateral fame) has mastered the 'just got out of bed' role; and any wife played by Joan Allen is both sexually and spiritually unfulfilled. However there is no one who plays the laconic ageing sports pro better than Kevin Costner. Tin Cup sees Costner at his absolute best, embodying the everyman charm that won him so many fans in 'Field of Dreams' and 'Bull Durham', yet exceeding these performances with a depth and sense of impending fallibility that engages the audience to the extent that we hit every long iron and read every putt of Roy McAvoy's long journey into golfing legend.

Costner's McAvoy is introduced as a washed up Texan driving range pro, a once prodigious college golfer whose talent was unquestionable, but who was hamstrung by an explosive temperament. Its not until be begins to teach psychiatrist Molly Griswold (Rene Russo), and has a reunion with college rival David Sims (Don Johnson) that his competitive flame is reignited, and he seeks to qualify for the US Open prove his obvious brilliance to both himself and to the watching world. This wouldn't be Costner if he didn't have half an eye on Russo's character as well, and the two plots are interwoven to excellent effect.

I love the golfing action in the movie. While some of the shot making from McAvoy is simply farcical (if anyone's ever got backspin on a 250 yard 3 wood i'd love to hear from you - I trust my inbox will remain vacant), director Shelton racks up the tension, especially on the back nine stretch of the US Open, which inevitably sees McAvoy paired with Sims in a race for the trophy. Costner actually lowered his handicap to single figures whilst shooting the movie, so the action has an air of authenticity to it, especially considering the cameos of well known US Tour pros such as Phil Mickelson, Corey Pavin and Craig Stadler. The familiar voice of legendary commentator Gary McCord adds to the feeling that the proceedings are not that divorced from reality. Ben Curtis (an unknown) won the Open Championship in 2003 - his first tournament win.

The supporting cast is excellent. This was Johnson's last major film for a long time, yet it is textured valedictory performance, and Russo adds radiance with her subtle beauty. Cheech Marin threatens to steal the show as McAvoy's world-weary caddy, yet Costner is the big star here. I was delighted with the film's conclusion, an overt rebellion against sporting conformity.

As a film in this genre, Tin Cup is a brilliant success. Costner has since gone on to bigger and worser things yet signs of a return to form are promising, his new baseball movie The Upside of Anger (in which, naturally, he plays an ageing pro) is released in March 2005. While not everything about the film is good (a little less mawkishness wouldn't go amiss in the romance scenes, combined with as little of Linda Hart as is humanly possible), Costner is on top form, and even if you don't like golf there is enough here for anyone to enjoy. Highly recommended.

8.5/10

Primary Colors (1998)

An excellent political satire.

[10/10 · 6 January 2005]

The much under-rated Primary Colors represents the zenith of its genre: a consistently excellent political satire armed with a stellar cast, an involving, intricate plot, and some of the finest direction in recent times from the sporadic (yet always reliable) Mike Nichols. John Travolta's portrayal of a Clinton-esquire Southern governor with a weakness for women and doughnuts is note perfect, encapsulating the flawed yet undoubtedly brilliant Jack Stanton with effortless flair and charisma. Travolta is ably supported by English character actors Emma Thompson and big screen debutant Adrian Lester, as well as an Oscar nominated Kathy Bates, Billy Bob Thornton and a resurgent Larry Hagman.

The film is, in essence, a chronology of Stanton's rise of the political ladder and the struggles encountered by his vibrant team in keeping their man in the race, despite numerous setbacks and tragedies along the way. The script gives Travolta a perfect platform to express the very human emotions that both constrain and encourage us: his early speeches (particularly at an adult literacy centre) are punctuated by salient (yet entirely falsified) anecdotes, and were are given equal insight into Stanton the man and Stanton the politician. Thus the film's fundamental paradox arises: the audience is clearly conditioned to sympathise with Stanton as a result of his remarkable eloquence, yet we are frequently undercut by revelations of sex scandals, endless untruths and the often heartless pragmatism he embarks upon. This conflict for the audience is superbly manipulated so that, at the film's conclusion, we are unsure as to what our own emotions should be. Few films manage to pull this off: fewer with the nuanced skill of Nichols' political odyssey.

I want to add a few words about the female performances in the film. Emma Thompson, as the Hilary Clinton of the the cast, nails both the accent and mannerisms of her model with a convincing determination. Her character is often the mediator among the campaign team, yet there is a ruthlessness about her, a quiet conviction in her actions that her husband is clearly sustained by. Kathy Bates is the unhinged lesbian media consultant who is drafted in to nullify the potent threat of negative media reporting. She clearly gets all the best lines (a prize shared with the equally crazy Billy Bob Thornton character) including a memorable reference to Stanton's string of lovers as "sorry trash bins": scrupulous editing on my part here. At the film's conclusion, Bates comes to the fore, spelling out the impossible conflict between what is politically right and what is humanly right with an intensity that few actors could accomplish. Her subsequent Oscar nomination was well deserved and she was unlucky to be pitted against a triumphant Judi Dench in the Best Supporting Actress category.

That said, this is Travolta's movie. This is a career-defining performance from an actor unfortunately sullied by a series of mind-numbing duds (Battlefield Earth, anyone?), yet had he chosen his roles more wisely (as, say, Pacino has done) a more creditable media image would most certainly have been forthcoming.

Don't be put off by its subject matter: this is film making at its best and is a credit to its highly talented cast and crew.

10/10