THE DESCENDANTS: Quaffable, But Far From Transcendent

THE DESCENDANTS (Dir. Alexander Payne, 2011)

In his consistently fine films, Alexander Payne excels in capturing his characters’ descent into desperate goofiness.

From school teacher Matthew Broderick’s scheming to have an ill-fated affair in ELECTION, to Paul Giamatti’s reacting to news that his book has being rejected by yet another publisher by swigging the spit bowl at a public wine tasting in SIDEWAYS, Payne has nailed some hilariously pathetic behavior.

Which is why I kept waiting for Payne’s latest protagonist, a well-to-do lawyer in Hawaii played by George Clooney, to lose his cool. Oddly, except for some doofish running in flip-flops, and darting behind bushes, Clooney mostly keeps it in check.

Clooney’s wife is in a coma after a boating accident, he’s responsible for handling the sale of the 25,000 acres of Kaua’I island land his family owns, and his 2 daughters (the rebellious Shailene Woodley and the foul mouthed Amara Miller) are more than a handful.

There’s also that Woodley, home from private school, tells her befuddled father that “mom was cheating on you.”

With all that I expected more of a breakdown than a simple sobbing at a creek, but Clooney shows admirable restraint, only allowing his emotions to flow at appropriate points. Even when confronting the dorky real estate agent who his wife was seeing on the side, Clooney does teeter on the edge of desperate goofiness, yet still saves face.

Clooney narrates us through the tropical world where businessmen look like beach bums, as he tolerates Woodley’s druggie boyfriend (Nick Krause, who gets way too much screen-time), and the meddling members of his family (including the gruff as ever Robert Forester, and the easy going Beau Bridges).

Like with his last 3 films, Payne has adapted a contemporary novel, this time Kaui Hart Hemmings’ 2007 book of the same name, and changed crucial details to make it his own.

It has a lot going for it in its execution, Clooney’s performance, and the lushness of Hawaii is as strikingly shot by cinematographer Phedon Papamichael as the wine country he shot in SIDEWAYS was (no ‘70s-style split screen action though this time), but THE DESCENDANTS is not as sharp or vital as Payne’s previous work *, because of a padded story-line which makes its premise lose power over the course of its nearly 2 hour running time.

There’s also the difficulty of fully feeling sorry for or relating to Clooney’s character. Despite how much of a schlub they try to make him, he’s still George Clooney in all his charms, and it feels too pat that all he and his daughters need to do to heal their pain is to sit together on a sofa, eat ice cream, and watch MARCH OF THE PENGUINS. As comforting a notion as that may be to some people.

In Payne’s most popular film SIDEWAYS, protagonist Giamatti appraises one wine as being “quaffable, but far from transcendent.”

Ditto for THE DESCENDANTS.

* My personal favorite of Payne’s films is ABOUT SCHMIDT (2002) starring Jack Nicholson. Definitely see that if you haven’t already before, (or instead of) THE DESCENDANTS.

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EVERYBODY'S FINE: The Film Babble Blog Review

EVERYBODY’S FINE (Dir. Kirk Jones, 2009)
 

A few months ago when I first saw the trailer there was a brief instance that I thought that this could be Robert De Niro’s ABOUT SCHMIDT – a powerful portrait of an iconic actor in his autumn years. That instance was incredibly brief mind you, because as the preview played out the glossy schmaltz it began to look more like De Niro’s LAST CHANCE HARVEY – a cute though vapid vehicle for a once vital actor in his autumn years. Well, sadly the latter is what we have here.

The opening shots show De Niro vacuuming his carpet, mowing his lawn, getting his grill out of the garage, etc. Watching this I was struck but the question: who wants to go to the movies to see Robert De Niro doing household chores? We even follow him to the grocery store to see him ask a clueless clerk about wine. He’s getting ready for Thanksgiving with his kids he explains, awkwardly clarifying that they’re all grown up and that he’s not actually serving children wine.

That's the type of detail that's meant to endear De Niro to us. His Franke Goode is a recently widowed and retired and without a doubt entering into a very needy zone of existence so when he learns that none of his family is going to make it home for the holiday there's no other course of action but for him to hop aboard buses and trains and go to them. His doctor warns him against the trip, because that's what most movie doctors do, but there's no stopping this strained father Frank.

We learn from his chatting up a fellow passenger on the train to see his son in New York that De Niro had a career in coating telephone wire from coast to coast. This gives the film the excuse to have many shots of telephone polls and cables as we hear the voices of his offspring (Drew Barrymore, Katie Beckinsale, and Sam Rockwell) making calls to one another. They discuss in hushed tones a fourth sibling who is in some unspecified trouble and how they should keep it from Dad.



Since that's the son that De Niro first goes to visit he comes up short in NYC, so then he's off to Chicago to see his advertising exec daughter (Beckinsale). One gimmick the film has is that when he first sees his kids, he sees them as that - kids - so children actors stand in for their older counterparts for a few shots before they embrace. This is certainly making the point that he never dealt with them as grown-ups before but it still comes off as an artsy gimmick.

After an tense dinner with Beckinsale, her husband and son, De Niro heads off to Denver to see his classical musician son (a very reserved Rockwell) who turns out not to be the conductor he told his father he was, but a percussionist. Rockwell doesn't appear to want to spend much time with his father so then we're off to Las Vegas to visit with his dancer daughter (Barrymore) who may not be who she's claimed to be either.

EVERYBODY'S FINE was based on an 1990 Italian film (STANNO TUTTI BENE) which I haven't seen but I bet has a lot more emotional weight than this well meaning but drab adaptation. None of the characters or situations take hold so there's nothing to truly care about. A 3rd act dream sequence involving De Niro confronting his offspring - the children actors mentioned above - tries its damndest to pull on the heart strings but the strings don't seem to be attached to anything. An all too happy ending feels like it was tagged on so the film would match its misguided marketing as a holiday film.

It's been a long time since the New Hollywood era in which De Niro ruled as an electric engaging entity in such landmarks as MEAN STREETS, TAXI DRIVER, and RAGING BULL (among others). Of course the man has long mellowed into the mainstream in commercial comedies and forgettable cop dramas but I think most film folks believe he could still bring it if given the right material. Until that happens though I guess we'll have to deal with watching De Niro do the dishes and take out the trash, instead of stalking the streets thanking God for the rain to wash the trash off the sidewalk.

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Giving LAST CHANCE HARVEY A Chance (New DVD Review)

LAST CHANCE HARVEY (Dir. Joel Hopkins, 2008) On Vacation in Las Vegas last month, I picked up a book titled "Best Movies of the 70's" by Prof. Dr. Jürgen Müller at the gift shop at Madame Tussauds. It's a thick book filled with great glossy film stills surrounded by classy scholarly text. Though it's hardly definitive (What, no NETWORK? No MEAN STREETS?) it makes a good case for Dustin Hoffman being the face of 70's cinema. Hard to argue as his mighty run through that decade included the likes of LITTLE BIG MAN, STRAW DOGS, ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN, PAPILLON, MARATHON MAN, and STRAIGHT TIME. Lately though, Hoffman hasn't really made much of a dent in moviegoer's memories with family fare like MR. MAGORIUM'S WONDER EMPORIUM or in cruder family fare as Ben Stiller's father Bernie Focker so it would be nice to have the man who was once a major player back in a quality character study drama. LAST CHANCE HARVEY luckily isn't his last chance for this, because while it's a fine cute comic valentine it's still not going to make a dent. However, for those who missed Hoffman's particular brand of quiet charm disguising heartache, it'll do quite nicely for now. "I missed the plane, I lost my job, and my daughter, who's getting married today, decided that she wanted her stepfather, rather than me, to give her away, okay?" Hoffman piles on the pity to Emma Thompson as a customer service airline rep he at first rudely dismissed. He's a jazz pianist turned commercial jingle writer who was told harshly by Richard Schiff (The West Wing) that "there are no more chances". Despite Hoffman's doomed demeanor and Thompson's pithy reluctance their meet-cute morphs into a day of getting to know each other in a sunnier than usual London, BEFORE SUNRISE/SUNSET-wise with a bit of ABOUT SCHMIDT thrown in for good measure - the scenario of the aging sad sack going to his estranged daughter's wedding, that is. Not to say this is anywhere as good as those movies, just that it has a pleasantly familiar framework. Hoffman's ex-wife (Kathy Bates) is happily not a character made for you to hate, but an agreeable yet weathered woman who has long moved on. James Brolin as her husband dressed in a white tuxedo looks like he just suavely stepped out of a James Bond audition but somehow doesn't intimidate Hoffman or make awkward waves in any respect. Nice touches like these and the natural feeling of the banter all make this a movie that breezes by. Hoffman and Thompson effortlessly walk through the rom com plotting with a good sense of the cheekiness involved. LAST CHANCE HARVEY is highly likable, though it wouldn't be missed at a Dustin Hoffman film festival (or a Emma Thompson one either for that matter), it is a nice reminder of the presence and poise of one of the finest actors ever, especially since it looks like he's going to get Focked again. More later...

A Medium Blizzard In A Moral Universe

I haven’t seen any new movies lately. I’ve re-watched a few flicks between writing and other life crap including, one of my favorites, Alexander Payne’s ABOUT SCHMIDT ‘cause a friend had never seen it.

I was reminded how Scott Tobias really nailed SCHMIDT in his Onion A.V. Club review: “In one of the many simultaneously funny and heartbreaking scenes in Alexander Payne’s wonderful ‘About Schmidt,’ recently retired Omaha insurance salesman Jack Nicholson steals away to a local Dairy Queen and orders a medium Blizzard. That he has to sneak off from his wife (June Squibb) to do it is telling enough; that he treats himself to a medium instead of a large speaks volumes about his character's diminished sense of self-worth.”

“Medium Blizzard” seems to really sum it up. So much so that Tobias brought it up again in his reviews of Payne's Schmidt follow-up SIDEWAYS: “Payne (Election) defines his universe through these sorts of wry behavioral observations; in his last film, ‘About Schmidt,’ Jack Nicholson's order at an Omaha Dairy Queen says more about him than reams of dialogue would have accomplished.” Yep, that medium Blizzard really made an impact on Tobias.

As well it should - the most effective devices in character presentation are the tiny seemingly meaningless day-to-day decisions and off the cuff behavior that speaks volumes as Tobias says. “The Devil is in the details” as the expression goes.

I’m still making my way through the 4th season of Six Feet Under, which is a good example of the little-things-say-so-much deal I was just babblin’ about. One particular intense episode, “That's My Dog” (involving Fisher Funeral-home family member David being abducted by a crackhead con man), which originally aired last summer struck me as both outrageously manipulative and wickedly brilliant.

I know it can be seen as an extremely geeky process, but I watched it a second time with the commentary track by director Alan Poul. Poul addressed viewers’ negative reactions, told me things that were intended as fantasy but I wrongly interpreted as reality, and pointed out an excellent article written by Emily Nussbaum in New York Magazine that anyone with even a passing interest in the show should check out: “Captive Audience” (New York Metro 8/04)

At one point during his insightful and economically worded commentary, Poul also touchingly said: “You put stuff out there in order to get a reaction from the world with the best of intentions and what you get back is often not what you expect or deserve or even consider to be an answer.

There is such a thing as a cry that goes unheard but all that added up does not mean we're not living in a moral universe.”

That immediately brought to mind this Woody Allen quote: “An artist creates his own moral universe” (from Allen’s 1994 comedy BULLETS OVER BROADWAY).

Definitely heady stuff, though on the other hand - in its obnoxious glib quick wham-bam style an episode of Family Guy that aired earlier tonight made a jab at Six Feet Under. In one of their patented cut-away gags an intestinal worm says: “You know, I’m 3 weeks old, my world view spans no further than the walls of this dog's intestines and I still find Six Feet Under pretentious.”

Take that Alan Ball! From an astute New York Magazine appraisal to some TV criticism voiced by a cartoon worm I think I can see the takeaway balance. Anyway, I need to go and get a medium Blizzard. Actually, maybe just a small one. Depends on if I can steal away I guess.

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