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 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 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).
RANSOM. A Ron Howard film is like a Hallmark card: You
know what it's going to say, but who doesn't get excited about
seeing one? This is a by-the-numbers sleazy bad-guy flick about
a corrupt cop (Gary Sinise) who abducts the son of a billionaire
airline mogul (Mel Gibson). The latter's fine-honed business sense
tells him to place a $4-million bounty on the kidnapper's head
rather than pay the $2 million ransom, which leads to two full
hours of screaming cell phone conversations and moralistic banter.
Gibson and Rene Russo turn out impressive performances as the
distraught parents, and Sinise is appropriately evil.
ROMEO AND JULIET. In his second film, director Baz Luhrman
gives the Bard's only teen-movie script an MTV/Miami-Cubano style,
producing the noisiest rendition any Elizabethan play has ever
received. Still, he remains largely faithful to the original,
not only in the language, but also in the youth and aching immediacy
of the protagonists. Claire Danes is especially good as Juliet,
uttering Shakespeare's difficult English without affect, and John
Leguizamo defines the role of the petulant Tybalt, playing the
part with an insightful butch-camp swagger. Kenneth Branagh could
learn a thing or two about bringing the Bard to the big screen
from this effort--it's not only exciting, stylish and witty in
its small details, it's also accessible without being condescending.
The action conveys so much sense that the teen audiences even
laughed at Shakespeare's puns. If you need to see bodkins and
ruffled collars to enjoy your Veronese tragedies, stay home; but
if a boy's choir singing "When Doves Cry" seems the
perfect accompaniment to the wedding of two star-cross'd lovers,
you'll surely enjoy the two hours' traffic of this staging.
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.
SLEEPERS. Director Barry Levinson overshoots the mark in
Sleepers, a long, overly dramatic movie emphatically about
the loss of innocence. Though the first part of the film, about
a group of mischievous friends growing up in Hell's Kitchen, has
some of the neighborhood charm of Levinson's Diner, the
story unravels in the second half into an annoying series of flashbacks
that are basically all the same. The plot concerns a group of
boys who pull a prank that gets out of hand; as a result they're
sent away to a Draconian boy's prison where the guards torture
and abuse them. Fifteen years later the boys (haunted by black
and white flashbacks), take their revenge on the guards. (One
astute viewer leaving the theater commented on the similarities
to First Wives' Club.) Though the plot gains some power
through the fact that it's based on a true story, the tension
never feels genuine, and the boys never seem as real as adults
as they did as happy children. Dustin Hoffman gives a nice performance
in his plum little role, and Robert Deniro manages a kind of manly
rectitude as the neighborhood priest; unfortunately, the adult
versions of the boys aren't played nearly as well.
SWINGERS. Picture Woody Allen in Los Angeles in the 1990s
pretending to be a hipster from the 1940s who's just been dumped
by his girlfriend from college and you have Swingers, a
funny, imaginative independent film with serious era confusion.
The story concerns a neurotic guy named Mike who's too heartbroken
after leaving his old girlfriend to get out and enjoy the nightlife
of L.A. with his buddies. His buddies, who share an unquenchable
yearning for the golf-putting, swing-dancing, highball-swilling
days of Sammy and Sinatra, want nothing more than to see Mike
on his feet again and spend endless amounts of energy to this
end. The guys call each other Daddy, refer to women as "babies,"
sleep until one in the afternoon, then cruise the bars in sharkskin
suits. This movie is pretty lightweight, but it pokes fun at L.A.
and the slacker aesthetic with ruthless accuracy.
Special Screenings
WE DON'T NEED NO EDUCATION. This weekend the Screening
Room presents the Japanese film classic Rashomon, by ultra-famous
director Akira Kurosawa. Kurosawa used flashbacks to present four
different interpretations of the same crime, showing just how
subjective history can be. Come see what all the hype about this
Kurosawa fellow is about. Also playing is animated flashback Pink
Floyd: The Wall (1982), a biography of the fame and life of
a guy named Pink Floyd featuring music by the band. Pink Floyd:
The Wall is said to be the first real rock opera ever made.
Move over, Jesus Christ Superstar, there's a new kid in town.
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