Funny, indeed hilarious at times, sad, melancholic, and rather quite depressing, this is one grand odyssey into loneliness, boredom, and existential crisis that just isn’t spontaneous or … watchable enough to be up there with In Bruges (2008) or The Guard (2011), but it’s certainly something different. It takes so long to get going, though, and there’s only so much material you can draw from the Craggy Island setting.
Still, it’s better than most, and has the best performance by a donkey since Au Hasard Balthazar(1966).
A taut thriller from a pre-smartphone era, the internet in its relative infancy, it’s exactly this disconnection which makes the premise genuinely creepy. Think Duel (1971) but with less sympathetic leads who kind of have it coming.
There’s a real sense of menace throughout this road trip from hell, and that’s in no small part to the spooky vocal talents of Ted Levine as ‘Rusty Nail’. Every time he decides to terrorise the trio down the CB radio, I couldn’t help but think of Buffalo Bill trying on his next arm cast.
It’s hard to define Nolan’s style – he goes epic and wide-angle when the moment demands it, but mostly his syntax is economical and unobtrusive, non-showy. It almost always works because you’re drawn into the intricacies of the story.
He has a thing for subject matter. Like the polymath Kubrick, you get the impression he’s autodidactically researched himself into a master of the topic. Memento (2000) defines Nolan at his very best. Immediately after watching I went on the usual internet binge. He seems to know most of his shit.
The non-linear structure works to a tee because it makes sense. The complexities of the character and the realisation that he’s not some naive rookie vigilante are revealed so well you’d be forgiven for thinking this is the director’s 10th venture into movie making.
This is a who’s who of 1999 – Sarah Polley, Jay Mohr, Scott Wolf, and the loon film buff from Scream 2 (1997).
It’s a wee bit annoying that the characters don’t appear to be affected much by anything that happens but then the movie does exist in this enclosed Tarantino-World with its own parameters. I’ve also never even heard of supermarket employees living such ridiculous adventures. And it’s good to once again have a movie that reveals Las Vegas for what it is – a pointless mess of a city consisting of predators and losers.
Revelation: I never knew William Fichtner could do comedy. He’s understatedly very amusing, his “ulterior motive” confession capping off the most awkward Christmas dinner ever.
Like all Doug Liman films, it’s a brisk affair, unpredictable and with a purposeful style that never wavers.
Firstly, let’s get this out of the way: Angelina Jolie should not be in movies. She has no acting ability that has ever been evidenced in anything she has featured in. I mind that Sony Pictures hack years ago when a producer referred to her as a “minimally talented spoiled brat”. Sums the situation up. For some reason she is in movies, and was cast in this to put bums on seats, though I do question the sanity of folks who’d watch it for the delights of Jolie. She’s awful.
Now that’s cleared up, some positives. Like Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2001), this was gripping without ever seeming to be about anything; it’s the little details and the intricacies and the things that are easily missed. It’s less a depiction of Cold War espionage and more a portrayal of a bloke operating within a system of double entendres, maintaining the poker face at all times (Damon is a cold fish here but we can see why).
De Niro hasn’t made many films and this one is curious subject matter. Of all the topics and milieus, I’d never imagined he’d be interested in something like this. It’s very well made, a bit of the Michael Mann about it.
Andrew Dominik made Chopper (2000) and The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007), so I’ll watch anything he makes, despite a batch of bad reviews for this one. I don’t know what these critics are on because this movie is dazzling from the get-go, an opening sequence featuring a Golden Age Hollywood in flames.
It’s a fascinating, absorbing watch, and you’re pulled right into the tapestry with the magnificent sound editing and cinematography, Dominik a master of his canvas. And it’s one dark canvas, Monroe a bullied, manipulated, tragic figure, less a character than a metaphor for Hollywood itself. I can see why so many folk hate this movie – it’s realism at its most brutal, the myth busted.
How to summarise it? An NC-17 anti-biopic with more visual treats than most of the crap pumped out by the system it lambasts.
James Gandolfini is the scene-stealer once again. It’s as if in every role outside of Tony Soprano, he went out of his way to demonstrate his range and ability to walk off with the movie.
A non-showy courtroom drama more concerned with characterisation than your standard John Grisham, there are also no Aaron Sorkin-style third-act histrionics. The subtle tête-à-tête is the big spectacle here, Travolta and Duvall making sure to keep it low-key but always interesting.
Rather than the melodrama, this is more concerned with how law works and how it can be manipulated. The good guys don’t always win – it’s not a profound point but so few of these pictures make it. Or have such an out-of-his-depth protagonist.
This felt like it was seven hours long and not in a good way. It was a series of relentless explosions and fisticuffs all shot through with no imagination and zero need for any of it to be happening. Sometimes with nonsense like this fare it can be a lot of fun, but not here.
The mammoth budget is shocking (what a waste), but the most irritating thing was the totally charmless Chris Evans’ attempt to make himself interesting by having a silly moustache. It’s even commented upon in the movie in a rare moment of self-awareness.
I don’t even know what this was even about (a stolen disc or something). So boring, the highlight was that most of the scenes reminded me of far superior movies.
The wee exposition and the build up are awarded a wee semi-kudos, as is the stark style throughout. It was also one of the last motion pictures with the existence of a telephoto lens. It does feel too much like an Oliver Stone movie, which doesn’t say much about the film’s hack director.
It’s well shot. That’s all I can compliment it with.
The utter stupidity and narcissism of the smuggling Billy Hayes vexed me even down to his semi-mullet, which even got to the stage of him jerking off to an ex through a glass window. The needlessly sensational violent scenes (one with Hayes spitting out a tongue of a guard he’s just jousted) were even more out of place.
The appearance of the father only intensified my dislike of this rubbish movie, the constant hatred of Turkey, and even from this bloke, who appears at first to be an avuncular sort; there is a scene in which he even slags off the locale cuisine.
It was only good when it avoids the very disconcerting politics. Stone has always been a beguiling one, an alleged left-winger/liberal with a predilection for casual racism and a fawning thing for dictators. This is one of his worst contributions to human history.
The funniest bit of this atrocious movie was the ending, when he even can’t walk away from a prison properly. At the appearance of a military car he slumps his shoulders back like an outcast goblin in a cathedral.
Not the movie – I’d say it’s extraordinary, but I hated the experience of watching it. The gloom and the dread and the realism and Clint being a very unhappy Clint. I just mind folk were peeved because he won the Best Director Academy Award over Marty for his The Aviator (2004), a standard Oscar bait biopic and one of the few Scorsese movies not even worthy of a second viewing.
Clint does this thing – he will make five stinkers in a row but then pull a motion picture out the bag that totally blows away all doubters.
Wanderings and ... wonderings. 