Invictus

Invictus

Dir: Clint Eastwood

If Morgan Freeman gets an Oscar nomination for his stilted exercise in hagiography as Nelson Mandela, it will be a crime. He sleepwalks through this movie (which he also co-produced), delivering wise maxims rather than authentic dialogue (the screenwriter shares the blame for this). Sadly, the entire movie is as lifeless as Freeman's performance: Matt Damon does his best in a decidedly supporting role as the South African rugby team captain, but he doesn't deserve a nomination, either.

Director Eastwood is too reverent of his subject to delve into the messy reality of the first years of Mandela's presidency, so he takes the easy way out by: 1) not bothering to cast, or even refer to, the radical members of the ANC or even Mandela's troublesome wife, Winnie; and 2) depicting everyone else as so damn noble! In place of a complex depiction of race relations, we have to suffer through a microcosm of distrust and reconciliation inside the cramped office of the Black and Afrikkaaner security detail assigned to guard the President (again, not convincing), and a throw-away scene of Damon's family's long-suffering (we assume she's long-suffering, because she's not given much to say) black housekeeper, who gets a ticket to the Final, so she can enjoy the game right next to her white employers!

Where Eastwood fails most miserably is in the climactic final of the 1995 Rugby World Cup (which naturally involves South Africa's "Springboks" versus those crazy New Zealand "All-Blacks"). He obviously doesn't know much about the sport, and has no interest in edifying his audience in even the basic rules. So we are left clueless as the game action plays out -- as clueless as the extras employed to play the crowd. Compare this with the best of the three sports movies released this year (I'm referring to the British import "The Damned United"): in that movie the scenes on the British soccer pitch are as authentic as the crowd's reaction to them.

Here, Eastwood gives us endless reaction shots of 'ordinary' South Africans glued to their TVs: but this crowd of extras (black and white, natch) might as well be watching election results for all the intensity they show. Their emotions run the gamut from A to B: from uninvolved silence to wild cheering (when Eastwood gives the cinematic cues to cheer--not a second before!). It would have been so easy to overlay the action with commentary from unseen announcers, to at least give us some sense of why the referee kept pointing to the ground and stopping play. But that would have interfered with the overbearing, uplifting score -- composed by, who else?, one of Clint's kids! (another Eastwood son plays one of the Springboks --quite well, because at least the rugby players all look like athletes). The simplicity that runs throughout the rest of the movie doesn't do us (the audience), South Africa (the nation), or most-importantly the sport of rugby any service.

A movie about a director (non-musical)

Me & Orson Welles

Dir: Richard Linklater

This is a very entertaining movie! I am surprised, not because of the talent involved (Slacker-extraordinaire Linklater, the lovely Claire Danes) but because it received so little buzz. Remember when Tim Robbins directed that dreadful work about the Manhattan theater scene in the Thirties -- "Cradle Will Rock" (1999)? This movie is everything that forgettable failure wasn't: it gets the zeitgeist right! New York in the Thirties: you are immediately drawn into the exciting world of live theater when Orson Welles was an impetuous, unproven genius -- pre-Citizen Kane.

All of the real-life supporting players are there: John Housman (Eddie Marsan), Joseph Cotton (that guy from 'Men in Trees'), Norman Lloyd, and other, less well-known members of his acting troupe (Ben Chaplin, the lovely redhead Kelly Reilly). All are excellent because they are totally committed to their roles. But the movie wouldn't work if the man himself was unconvincing. Instead, Christian McKay as Orson Welles is brilliant. If he's not nominated for an Oscar, there is no justice! Oh, and Zach Ephron is the star. So why didn't this movie get more attention?

A movie about a director (musical)

January 04, 2010 --

NINE
Dir: Rob Marshall

I must set aside my sentimentality to review this movie, for -- as with "Evita" -- I had a memorable family experience traveling to New York City to see the original Broadway production of this musical, too many years ago to count (I'm asking you...don't count!). Hearing the soundtrack again brought back those memories, but I don't expect today's filmgoer (you) to be familiar with the source material at all. It is a somewhat obscure choice for Rob Marshall's follow-up his well-deserved hit "Chicago." [Might it be a last tribute to the late Anthony Minghella, who co-wrote the screenplay?]

At the outset, let me say that composer-lyricist Maury Yeston is no Kander & Ebb, certainly no Sondheim, hell, he's not even Andrew Lloyd-Webber! So the weaknesses of the original are evident in the film version: namely, a disjointed collection of varying musical styles, covering a thin plot. Marshall works his magic with the material he has: the movie's opening number is essentially the greatest Victoria's Secret fashion show ... EVER!, and he gets the most from a stellar cast, confirming his talent for turning anyone into a singing-dancing-acting 'triple-threat' (remember what he did for Richard Gere & Renee Zellweger?).

Credit to all the actresses who orbit around Daniel Day-Lewis's intense performance as Italian director "Guido Contini" (think of Marcello Mastroianni in Fellini's "8-1/2" on which this musical is based). First and foremost is the lovely French actress Marion Cotillard, playing his long-suffering wife, Luisa. Both her acting and singing are superb: she goes toe-to-toe with Day-Lewis in the dramatic scenes, and delivers a heart-breakingly beautiful solo with "My Husband Makes Movies" (the best song in the original show, and thanks to MC, the best moment in the movie).

Aside from her, all the other actresses are given supporting roles (in most cases, a couple of scenes and one song), but each makes an impression. Penelope Cruz as Carla has the most-provocatively sexual number in the show (I remember fighting with my sister over our binoculars during that number), but surprisingly, it is Black-Eyed Pea singer Fergie who steals the show (and my attention) with her turn as the voluptuous prostitute Saraghina. Marshall obviously devoted most of his time and talents to her "Be Italian" number--it's the song you will be humming as you leave. Cruz's more notorious song, "A Call From the Vatican," while energetically performed, seemed over much too quick. =(

Nicole Kidman brings her customary cool glamour to the role of Claudia, yet her part is reduced to almost nothing (she proved herself adept at muscials in Moulin Rouge--why not give her another song, at least?). I suspect Marshall was protecting his male lead, clearly not a professionally-trained singer, from having too many musical numbers. That is a shame, for as Tim Burton proved with Johnny Depp in Sweeney Todd, a gifted actor doesn't have to be a great singer for his performance to work. If anyone else can pull that off, surely it must be Day-Lewis!

Kate Hudson adds much-needed youth and exuberance to this 1980s-era musical by energetically performing one of the 'new' songs. Dressed in a Sixties go-go outfit, she looks every bit the spitting image of her mother (Goldie Hawn, in case you forgot). As for her material, "Cinema Italiano," suffice to say Yeston hasn't improved much as a lyricist in the intervening 25 years (but the music is catchy).

Sadly, the odd-woman-out is the great Judi Dench (I'm not sad that she was not part of the Victoria's Secret show!). Don't get me wrong: her role in the film as Guido's confidante is vital; her musical number, however, desperately needed to be cut! On the stage, "Folies Bergere" was a highlight of the show. Here, it falls flat--partly due to her laying on a thick French accent (that inexplicably disappears when she delivers her speaking lines), but more because Marshall doesn't seem invested enough in this particular number to give it his customary visual flair (my recollection is that the whole number was filmed in medium and long shots). Considering all the other numbers he trimmed from the show, his fear of Dame Judi must have gotten the better of him.

My review reads like I watched a collection of musical numbers, which is essentially what I did. As a whole, they were very entertaining numbers, which is why this movie will end up in my "saw & enjoyed" category for 2009.

Who doesn't belong in this picture?