It was difficult to compare this movie to another, such was the singularity of it. But the works of Éric Rohmer come to mind with their mood, pacing, and thematic concerns.
It’s a joy to watch and never dull despite the monotony of the subject matter, all held together by a quite exceptional leading performance and the unpredictability of events. You do wonder, knowing it’s based loosely on a true story, if this bloke is going to end up going crackers.
Mel is good in everything, a top actor and a sublime filmmaker. Our British Bulldog extraordinaire Ray Winstone also rocks up as an enigmatic spy/assassin with existential predilections, and he gives the type of performance that makes you wish the movie would segue into it all being about him.
However, Danny Huston features, and he is terrible as always. He saunters like C-3PO and has the diction of a constipated android. He almost ruins the movie, as he does most movies he features in.
I found this such a painful experience and I’ll be brief about why.
It was overstuffed with inconsequential ritual, gormless staring from every character in it, needless detail, and shots and pacing so ponderous I kept kicking the chair in front of me (it was empty).
The Fremen were so boring it felt like a really honking Ryanair flight when you’re stuck on the tarmac for 45 mins. It went on and on with these goons and I was sick to death of them. What else? It’s wholly unmemorable in its dialogue. Not a single line staying with you, the chat consists of characters telling the audience what is happening.
The pros:
The spectacle is great, the effects sublime. The Harkonnen are at least interesting, their strange society and brutal ways. But they barely feature. Apparently, folk chatting in a desert is more deserved of our attention.
It’s okay if all over the place with a jarringly inconsistent tone – too violent but not violent enough, it’s half a kids’ movie, half Lethal Weapon, which doesn’t work. Maybe they should have just stuck with the one genre or infused it with more magic, the escapism of the movie theatre and all that.
Spot the cameo helps pass the two-hour running time, and it has its moments when you think it could be relaxing into a movie that goes somewhere. But it doesn’t.
It’s stupid. But it’s not stupid-stupid. At least you get two Arnies for the price of one in this hit-and-miss deconstruction of action cinema.
What a load of shite this was, but it’s another ‘must see’ movie off my bucket list.
The premise is ludicrous, as is almost everything that takes place. And it’s pure cringe, from him taking a streetwalker into a fantasy hotel, the wincing reactions of the staff and the guests, the squirming montage of her on Rodeo Drive trying on the outfits to ‘Pretty Woman’ (how clever), to the tedious board meetings.
And the bloke who played George Costanza from Seinfeld is in it and he is rubbish.
A boring prologue that goes on and on. Just cut to the chase, eh. I almost turned it off. But I didn’t.
The ‘fun’ begins at the hotel, and thank fuck for Rowan Atkinson. He’s Basil Fawlty surrounded by hideous cauldron experts. You’ve got the quite brilliant effects work and the director rolling with the lunacy of the premise.
And Bruno makes this movie. “Well, I’m not too keen on being a mouse.” – Bruno.
A.K.A. Rain Man with a Jeff Daniels Dumb and Dumber (1994) haircut indulges in some video games and all hell breaks loose.
This was so fucking atrocious, like … a verified stinker. It has some good ideas (for its era) going for it, but it’s just too unintentionally funny to not be godawful. It’s a right crapper that takes itself seriously, so seriously. Probably the only bad David Cronenberg flick not directed by David Cronenberg.
Pierce thinks he’s onto a winner here. The movie made quite the sum and most likely paved a road for Brosnan to be the (not deserved) victim of Mrs. Doubtfire’s exemplary fruit chucking, and then the Greatest Bond of All Time, so there is that ….
It’s pointless. It’s a sort of desperate black comedy with no laughs, and entirely populated by irritating cunts. And I have nothing else to add to this.
Wanderings and ... wonderings. 