 |
 BASQUIAT. Jean Michel Basquiat was described by The
New York Times as "the art world's closest equivalent
to James Dean." Young, talented and good looking, the painter
died of a heroin overdose in 1988 at the age of 27. The film Basquiat,
made by his friend and fellow art sensation Julian Schnabel, follows
Basquiat's rise from a kid sleeping in a box to a rich, indulged
superstar, both recipient and victim of the art world's largess
in the 1980's. Though the acting is often great in this film (David
Bowie does a dead-on impersonation of Andy Warhol), and though
the New York art world and Basquiat himself are interesting fodder
for a feature film, Basquiat lacks direction and tension,
and gets a little slow at times.
THE GHOST AND THE DARKNESS. Screenwriter William Goldman,
who wrote Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, All the
President's Men and The Stepford Wives, among others,
proves once again that the nineties will never be as good as the
seventies, movie-wise. This "true" tale about great
white hunters protecting the natives from a couple of man-eating
lions endorses the standard myopic myths about colonialism, manhood,
hunting, etc. Val Kilmer plays John Patterson, an engineer who
has been sent to the African savanna to build a bridge that will
expand the ivory trade. He speaks of Africa as if it were a town,
rather than a continent ("I love Africa!"), and sets
about proving his manhood and protecting his men (various
racial stereotypes, mitigated somewhat by one or two heroic black
characters) against a pair of man-eating lions. A great hunter,
Charles Remington (Michael Douglas) comes to show him how it's
done. The two men bond, hunt, kill etc. Remington remarks with
revulsion that the pair of unnatural lions "are doing it
for pleasure," i.e., killing, but the movie doesn't have
the intelligence to draw the connection between the lion's pleasure
in killing and man's pleasure in hunting, colonization and dominance.
After a while, it's hard to not root for the lions. At least they're
resisting the conquest of their domain.
THE GRASS HARP. This adaptation of the Truman Capote novel
about a boy coming of age is dull and sentimental until about
halfway through, when it suddenly comes to life. Edward Furlong
plays Collin, a quiet, serious orphan who has been turned over
to a pair of eccentric spinster aunts after the death of his parents.
His aunts Dolly (Piper Laurie) and Verena (Sissy Spacek) are complete
opposites; Dolly is shy and imaginative, while Verena is all business.
The sisters fight and Dolly makes the unusual decision to live
in a nearby tree house rather than put up with her sister's bossiness.
In the most delightful, least contrived part of the movie, the
magnetic Dolly attracts all of the other misfits and outcasts
in town to the tree house, including a suitor for herself (Walter
Matthau) and a love-interest for Collin (the dashing Sean Patrick
Flanery).
MICHAEL COLLINS. A film that presents Neil Jordan's version
of the controversial life and death of Michael Collins, a charismatic
freedom fighter who led the IRA against the British in the early
part of the century. Jordan, who also made The Crying Game
and Mona Lisa, focuses on a much broader series of
events here, giving us a wide, sweeping narrative that resembles
nothing less than an old-fashioned war movie. The violence is
graphic, and it's hard at times to sympathize with our hero, Michael
Collins, appealingly played as he is by Liam Neeson, because his
special gift in life seems to be terrorism. The British aren't
any better, but those of us who aren't especially involved in
the issues of Irish independence may find ourselves wishing that
Jordan had brought the stakes and history of the fighting a little
more to the fore. There's a silly love story with Julia Roberts
thrown in for good measure, and lots of explosions, if you get
bored of the male bonding.
PAPERBACK ROMANCE. A loopy, endearing little romantic comedy
from down under, Paperback Romance has, um, interesting
production values and not a familiar face in the cast. There's
nothing very weighty here, but the story of a pretty, handicapped
romance writer (she conveniently composes her smutty stories aloud)
who pretends to have been injured in a skiing accident in order
to nab Prince Charming has a ridiculous but undeniable charm.
Like While You Were Sleeping or even Funny Face, Paperback
Romance does a fine job of conflating absurdity with romance.
Bring a date.
SECRETS & LIES. With Secrets and Lies, acclaimed
British director Mike Leigh turns in gentler, more human effort
than his previous film, Naked. An extended family muddles
through issues of love and parenthood, spurred by Hortense (Marianne
Jean-Baptiste), a grown, adopted child searching for her birthmother
Cynthia (Brenda Blethyn). To Hortense's surprise, her mother turns
out to be white, but the friendship that springs up between these
two women quickly cuts through any racial boundaries. Leigh's
view of humanity is characteristically surly, nonetheless, and
the relationship between Cynthia and her daughter Roxanne (Claire
Rushbrook), a street sweeper, is hilariously bleak. Somehow, Leigh
has a talent for making human failings seem viciously funny and
absurd, and the most miserable characters in this film often turn
out to be the most entertaining. Still, there's a spirit of connection
and society reminiscent of Jean Renoir in this film (Timothy Spall
as the rotund Maurice bears a striking resemblance to Renoir as
Octave in Rules of the Game), and everyone emerges a little
wiser for their troubles.
WALLACE AND GROMIT. This 90-minute compilation is a mixed
bag of fairy tales, a fable of the urban labyrinth, misadventures
with "Rex the Runt" and "Pib and Pog," "Creature
Comforts" commercial spots and, of course, Wallace and
Gromit's "A Close Shave." The more you watch, the
funnier they get; and the animation is first-rate. Go if only
to see the subversively hilarious zoo mocumentary.
|
 |
