Film Is a Battleground #11 (The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, Code 46, Stander)

THE LIFE AQUATIC WITH STEVE ZISSOU (in theaters)
CODE 46 (on DVD)
STANDER (on DVD)

THE LIFE AQUATIC WITH STEVE ZISSOU (Wes Anderson, 2004)
*** (A must-see)

I didn’t see BOTTLE ROCKET until it come out on video but by the time the credits rolled I couldn’t imagine not knowing the film. I saw the midnight showing of RUSHMORE four successive Fridays in early 1999. After my first viewing of THE ROYAL TENENBAUMS I found that film somewhat diffuse compared to RUSHMORE. Subsequent viewings revealed a perfectly self-contained screenplay that drew its emotional resonance from almost thrown-away moments of quiet revelation. Anderson’s films are meticulously created and encourage obsessiveness amongst their admirers. I watched THE ROYAL TENEBAUMS six times within the first two weeks of its release on DVD (there were suggestions that this was due as much to an unhealthy, self-involved fixation with Margot Tenenbaum as to Anderson’s accomplishment).

I’ve only seen THE LIFE AQUATIC WITH STEVE ZISSOU once. As in Anderson’s other films, references are obvious without being stultifying. The basic Salinger/New Yorker/MAGNIFICENT AMBERSONS inspiration for THE ROYAL TENENBAUMS served to embolden the myriad personal, eccentric particulars of the film. Jacques Cousteau, Jerry Lewis’s THE LADIES’ MAN, and boys’ adventure books form a similar triptych for this film for which I attempt to do justice.

Anderson and Owen Wilson’s great subject has been their ambivalence about privilege. Noah Baumbach, his sensibility pitched somewhere between Anderson/Wilson and Whit Stillman, replaced Owen Wilson as Anderson’s co-writer for this film. Baumbach’s debut, KICKING AND SCREAMING, a film I despised on its release (despite the combined appeal of Chris Eigeman, Eric Stoltz, Parker Posey, and Josh Hamilton) but have softened on over time with the aid of near-constant showings on IFC, lacks the self-awareness both of Stillman’s deft satires and the sweet, willful ambivalence of the Anderson/Wilson films. Baumbach’s second film, MR. JEALOUSY (Stoltz and Eigeman, again), was a greater artistic success, but found almost no audience. The film does seem to have influenced those who saw it. The genesis of Alec Baldwin’s narration in TENENBAUMS may be inferred from the unseen narrator of MR. JEALOUSY and Peter Bogdanovich gives a delightful, pre-Sopranos performance as a therapist.

The tone of LIFE AQUATIC is more caustic than those of Anderson’s previous films. Whether that’s attributable to Baumbach’s contributions or the shift in subject matter, I don’t know. As opposed to the drifting post-adolescents of BOTTLE ROCKET, the precociously mature creative ambitions of Max Fischer in RUSHMORE, and the young has-beens of the Tenenbaum family, THE LIFE AQUATIC WITH STEVE ZISSOU takes as its primary subject an adult’s life. That the adult in question is, in large part, a filmmaker suggests something of how Anderson regards himself at this point in his life. His specific concern, communicated via Zissou’s personal artistic malaise, centers on whether or not he is regarded by the world a man who makes films rather than a man whose life has become simply the sum total of his films. Anderson contrasts the unfettered joy of discovery in the glimpses of Zissou’s early oceanographic adventure films with Zissou’s current need to keep creating films even in the absence of inspiration in order to maintain cultural relevance. That need for cultural relevance, a manifestation of Zissou’s self-sufficiency fuels the self-loathing and misanthropy of Bill Murray’s performance.

Murray is present in nearly every frame of this film and required to communicate both the creative and personal force who created the world in which he lives and the self-involved, self-destructive shell of a man who now finds that world stultifying and unfulfilling. It’s the greatest performance of his career.

In the wake of RUSHMORE and LOST IN TRANSLATION, it’s been fashionable to refer to Murray as “our greatest comic actor.” Unlike the knee-jerk commendation of Scorsese as “or greatest living director,” a appellation which seems to mean “technically gifted artist who no longer makes films as unrelentingly challenging and uncomfortable as his used to,” the use of the modifier “comic” infers limits to Murray’s accomplishments. If Christopher Guest worked more often, he might match the varied inventiveness of Murray’s character work (CADDYSHACK, TOOTSIE, LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS, WHAT ABOUT BOB? (despite being shackled to Richard Dreyfuss), MAD DOG AND GLORY, ED WOOD, KINGPIN, WILD THINGS, CRADLE WILL ROCK, his ambitiously conceived but unevenly executed Polonius in HAMLET, THE ROYAL TENENBAUMS, COFFEE AND CIGARETTES). That list doesn’t account for Murray’s star turns, his demonstrated ability to make a film watchable chiefly on his merits. STRIPES, SCROOGED (wherein his closing speech serves as a statement of intent for the remainder of his career), and THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO LITTLE are of varying quality but there varied natures fail to detract from the accomplishment of his performances, putting the lie to the assumption that soberness of intent equals quality of performance. Those films are not good enough to hold Murray’s talent but rather than condescend to their modest ambitions, he elevates those films with his anarchic intelligence. When gifted with a major role in a film capable of matching his level of ambition and execution (GROUNDHOG DAY, RUSHMORE, LOST IN TRANSLATION, and now THE LIFE AQUATIC), the combination of his charisma and his willingness to subsume himself into his character compares with Cary Grant, Jimmy Stewart, and Henry Fonda. Bill Murray is a great actor and one of the great movie stars in the history of the medium.

Anderson’s films ultimately reveal more than personal obsession because of the great value he places in collaboration. Owen Wilson didn’t co-write the script but he plays the second lead. Though no other Wilson brothers appear in the film, Murray, Anjelica Huston, and Seymour Cassel all return in front of the camera. As I anxiously await Roman Coppola’s follow-up to CQ, I can’t complain about the interregnum if it’s in part spent working as the second unit director on this film. Anderson continues his brilliant collaboration with cinematographer Robert Yeoman. The flat, dense compositions they favor are nearly opposite to the blurred fury of the best Wong Kar-Wai/Christopher Doyle collaborations, but it engenders a similar result. One viewing is not sufficient to process the visual information of THE LIFE AQUATIC anymore than it is to process the visual information of ASHES OF TIME. I await the rewards of my next viewing.

CODE 46 (Michael Winterbottom, 2004)
** (Worth seeing)

Frank Cottrell Boyce successfully integrates a number of disparate, familiar elements into his script for this engaging and mostly effective film. The plot centers on a classic trope, a detective (Tim Robbins) drawn to a mysterious woman (Samantha Morton); but its specifics are varied and modern. The multicultural near-future depicted in CODE 46 relates to the recent, contemporary European crime films DIRTY PRETTY THINGS and THE GOOD THIEF. The vast bureaucracy that arises to maintain order in the face of technological advancement (in this case, the genetic implications of reproduction once cloning becomes common), puts CODE 46 in the company of much of Philip K. Dick’s work. The “empathy virus” that Robbins’ detective uses to aid his work recalls the chemically-dependent dystopian detective hero of Jonathan Lethem’s first novel, Gun, with Occasional Music. The insistence on the relevance of classical tragedy (Oedipal in this film) in contemporary life makes the film a companion to Alex Cox’ REVENGERS TRAGEDY (adapted by Boyce).

After making a number of plodding, pretentious films throughout the ‘90s, Winterbottom has shown a surprisingly deft touch recently, first with 24 HOUR PARTY PEOPLE and now CODE 46. The films that Winterbottom shot on film always looked good which only served to accentuate their lifelessness. (To be fair, the films shot on video that looked horrible seemed intended to look like that. A dubious accomplishment.) CODE 46 similarly features fine, atmospheric 35mm cinematography by Alwin Kuchler (MORVERN CALLAR) and Marcel Zyskind.

In lieu of the closed-off, intellectualized performances he coaxed from his actors in JUDE, WELCOME TO SARAJEVO, and THE CLAIM, he’s grown to allow his actors to connect, emotionally, messily, with each other and the audience. Rather than portraying ambivalence, Winterbottom has allowed it to occur.

STANDER (Brownen Hughes, 2004)
** (Worth seeing)

There are legitimate reasons to be skeptical about STANDER. It’s both a conscious homage to the American crime films of the 1970’s and an anti-apartheid film with a white hero. The film’s director, Brownen Hughes, last completed the Ben Affleck/Sandra Bullock vehicle FORCES OF NATURE which only inspired discussion as to whether it was slightly more or slightly less embarrassing than BOUNCE.

Featuring a fine lead performance by the underutilized Thomas Jane and sharp supporting turns from Deborah Kara Unger and Dexter Fletcher, STANDER makes the greatest utility of its suitably modest ambitions. It manages to use the irony of a police captain becoming a nation’s most successful bank robber as a metaphor for the untenable nature of apartheid without attempting to do more than tell the story of one white man’s self-destruction. Institutionalized immorality will eventually rot the state from within.

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Film Is a Battleground #6 (Garden State, Revengers Tragedy, The Girl Next Door)

originally published September 9, 2004

GARDEN STATE (in theaters)
REVENGERS TRAGEDY (on DVD)
THE GIRL NEXT DOOR (on DVD)

GARDEN STATE (Zach Braff, 2004)
** (Worth seeing)

As a writer of dialogue, Zach Braff’s current limitations stand out in contrast to his impressive abilities as a writer and director only because he’s equally ambitious in all three endeavors. Though too earnest in its moments of navel-gazing and sentimentality, GARDEN STATE is an extremely promising debut. That Braff desires to include serious moments of reflection and sentiment speaks to his ambition. Though clever, he understands that cleverness should not supersede ideas and emotions.

I’d only previously seen Braff in THE BROKEN HEARTS CLUB, a slight film most notable for giving Timothy Olyphant (see below, THE GIRL NEXT DOOR) his first lead role. Playing a hysterical innocent utilized primarily for condescending comic relief, Braff gave no hint of the timing he brings to both the physical and verbal comedy of his role in GARDEN STATE.

Not that he just demonstrates comic timing as an actor. GARDEN STATE rises above both the many lifeless examples of debut films made by actors (Robert Redford’s ORDINARY PEOPLE, Todd Field’s IN THE BEDROOM, Spacey’s ALBINO ALLIGATOR, Frank Whaley’s THE JIMMY SHOW, and many, many others) or young hyphenates discovered at Sundance (GARDEN STATE certainly underscores the self-satisfied lie that is Edward Burns’s career). Without relying on well-known quantities behind the camera (not impugn the fine work of cinematographer Lawrence Sher, editor Myron Kerstein, or production designer Judy Becker, just to acknowledge that none are household names), Braff has created a specific universe for his film. Not that it’s an especially unique universe. The film’s portrayal of suburban ennui caused by blunted, frustrated ambition resembles, without being derivative of, the more accomplished work of Dave Eggers and Wes Anderson.

Were Braff not so talented, his decision to surround himself with a cast consisting of Peter Sarsgaard, Ian Holm, Ron Leibman, Denis O’Hare, and Jean Smart would seem more self-destructive than self-confident. All give good performances in roles of varying size and complexity. Leibman shines, especially. He gives a better, more relaxed version of the compassionate, professional elder he played in AUTO FOCUS.

Natalie Portman gives her best performance since BEAUTIFUL GIRLS, but I’m not sure how good it is. An interesting case, similar to Claire Danes and Julia Stiles, in that they are all beautiful, young, Ivy League-educated American actresses who should be much more interesting than they are, Portman can be compelling on-screen without ever seeming to commit to a character. Granted, most of the film roles offered to young women don’t provide anything to which one can commit. Still, the examples of Anna Paquin and Sarah Polley remind you of the heights these young American actors have yet to scale.

REVENGERS TRAGEDY (Alex Cox, 2002)
*** (A Must-see)

Alex Cox’s most recent theatrical feature (and only the second he’s been able to see to completion since 1992’s HIGHWAY PATROLMAN) offers a stirring reminder of his talents.

Cox possesses a pop sensibility in the best, classical sense of the word. He believes in the power of universal common experiences. Furthermore, he has the talent to create them. REPO MAN has felt contemporary and relevant for twenty years. SID AND NANCY, made fifteen years ago, still offers a fine example of how to make a lively biopic and/or rock film. (One of the surprises of the great 24 HOUR PARTY PEOPLE, also written by REVENGERS TRAGEDY screenwriter Frank Cottrell Boyce, was Michael Winterbottom’s ability to appropriate something much closer to Cox’s generous spirit than his usual ponderous tone.)

REVENGERS TRAGEDY stages Thomas Middleton’s Jacobean tragedy in a near-future Liverpool decimated by violence, media, a controlling elite, and full of people speaking in classical verse. The use of verse, perhaps because, unlike most filmmakers working with classical material, Cox understands the language, is not a limitation. Instead, Cox uses the un-reality of the language as an impetus to forgo realism all together. The film is electric, absurd, and coherent. The performances are theatrical (sometimes mock-theatrical), witty, and emotional. It seems that the outsized, all-encompassing nature of Vindici’s revenge (and the allowance to address the camera/audience directly) has unleashed in Christopher Eccleston an intense charisma heretofore hidden. As in THE CAT’S MEOW, Eddie Izzard uses his wit to reveal the depth and complexity of a self-consciously theatrical character.

REVENGERS TRAGEDY, released directly to home video in the States, offers the perfect opportunity for say, someone just arrived at graduate school, to impress his undoubtedly arty and pretentious classmates with something cool and unknown yet derived from the theatrical arts. You’re welcome.

THE GIRL NEXT DOOR (Luke Greenfield, 2004)
* (Has a redeeming facet)

Earlier this year, Timothy Olyphant finally got a role worthy of his talents on HBO’s DEADWOOD. His performance in that (on-going) series stands out even amidst the uniformly excellent work of the ensemble and may yet rank among the great performances in the history of the Western, especially if he gets to do another episode with Walter Hill. I defy anyone to stop watching DEADWOOD after absorbing the first scene of the first episode, starring Olyphant and directed by Hill.

Olyphant gave his first compelling performance in a negligible film in Doug Liman’s GO. Despite generally lifeless, neutered surroundings he brought a bit of wit, sexuality, and danger to THE BROKEN HEARTS CLUB and ROCK STAR as well. He does the same in THE GIRL NEXT DOOR, another film completely undeserving of his talents.

A rip-off of RISKY BUSINESS that fails to achieve even the modest aims of that (inexplicably well regarded) film, THE GIRL NEXT DOOR, it seems, exists only to promote the possibility of seeing Elisha Cuthbert naked. That this proves to be an empty come-on isn’t surprising as people tend not admit complaint when their investment in prurience is not rewarded.

Olyphant has the Joe Pantoliano role. With his first appearance he takes command of the film and every subsequent second he’s off the screen seems interminable. Even by the standards of teen sex comedies this film seems unimportant and its creators disengaged. Why, for example, in a contemporary youth film does the soundtrack consist of “Under Pressure,” “The Killing Moon,” and “Baba O’Reilly?” Is it to make the audience stop thinking about all the movies better than the one they’re watching and start to consider worthy music as well?

As for the film’s nominal leads, Ms. Cuthbert is lovely but lacks much of a spark, though blame for the material’s shallowness should not fall at her feet. Emile Hirsch, the putative hero, though not as unrelentingly blank as Tom Cruise, strolls through his role with the minimal effort it deserves, though he comes to life briefly after Olyphant slips him some ecstasy under the guise of aspirin. Such passes for a comic high point in this film.

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