January 2004: Reviews inc. A Mighty Wind/Runaway Jury/The Last Samurai/Dogville/Cold Mountain

Running Length: 1:30
Classification: 12a

Cast: Christopher Guest, Michael McKean, Harry Shearer, Eugene Levy, Catherine O'Hara, Bob Balaban, Jane Lynch, Parker Posey, Larry Miller, Fred Willard

Director: Christopher Guest
Producer: Karen Murphy
Screenplay: Christopher Guest & Eugene Levy
Cinematography: Arlene Donnelly Nelson
Music: Christopher Guest, Michael McKean, Harry Shearer

In A Mighty Wind, Christopher Guest pulls off such a neat trick: making fun of an assortment of characters who are baffling in their simple-minded earnestness, yet treating each one with such respect that the audience feels more sympathy than derision. Together with writing partner Eugene Levy, and an immensely talented cast, he targets the mellow world of folk music, inviting us not to laugh at the film's ageing musicians, but at their own lack of awareness that they're funny. It's a deft manoeuvre, and one that Guest has done skillfully before, in his previous two mock-documentaries, Waiting for Guffman and Best in Show, not to mention his huge contribution to the peerless This Is Spinal Tap.

The plot is little more than a device, a set-up for a series of comic set pieces. After the death of a great folk music manager, Irving Steinbloom, his grown-up children decide to honour their dad by organising a tribute concert, broadcast live on America's public service television channel and featuring the reunion of his biggest acts. The film then flits about between the anxiety-ridden efforts of Steinbloom's son, played with a hideously precise compulsiveness by Bob Balaban, to make the show go off without a hitch, and the histories and reuniting of each of the acts.

They are The Folksmen (Harry Shearer, Michael McKean and Guest himself - The "Taps" indeed, fabulous!), a trio of 'aw-shucks' pickers who have aged into some really unfortunate hair choices, and who spend their reunion somewhere between mutual adoration and mild squabbling about song choices and harmonies. The Main Street Singers of days past have become the New Main Street Singers, a "neuf-tet" of frighteningly perky, pastel-clad singers led by a couple who belong to their own two-person cult that lives by the vibratory powers of colour. The last act is Mitch and Mickey, a former duet of sweethearts who had a falling out and went their separate ways... Mitch (Eugene Levy) to a mental breakdown and a stay at a loony-bin, and Mickey (Catherine O'Hara) to a bland life married to a catheter salesman and model train enthusiast. Levy is dazed and robotic, and O'Hara is subtle and deadpan sly.

In addition to the musicians and the Steinbloom family, there is a whole collection of other wonderfully colourful characters, from the competent, put-upon liaison for the concert venue (Michael Hitchcock), forced to endure Steinbloom's hysterical worries on concert night - before eventually slapping him, to the abrasive buffoonery of Fred Willard as the manager of the New Main Street Singers, and this array of personalities is the point of the film, rather than the paper-thin plot.

Nevertheless, Guest, Levy, and their ensemble are fantastic at what they do, projecting a humour that is at once gentle and piercing, and blessedly mature. A Mighty Wind is that far too rare a phenomenon: a comedy that is both thoughtful and very, very funny. Footnote, as a graphic artist myself, who devours the history of commercial art...I have to give a gold star on the jotter to the album sleeve designs on display in this movie - they are hysterically sublime and scarily authentic!!

Directed By: Gary Fleder
Starring: John Cusack, Gene Hackman, Dustin Hoffman, Rachel Weisz, Bruce Davison, Bruce McGill, Jeremy Piven, Nick Searcy
(12a 127 min.)

Gene Hackman and Dustin Hoffman have finally teamed up in this - and all of the powerhouse performances they gave in the 70s and subsequent decades after, you'd think they would have crossed paths before in one way or another. But they're here and while the result of Runaway Jury is more than a little uneven, they are two of the major highlights of a film that's smooth entertainment and not to be taken further than that.

"Runaway Jury", based on the novel by John Grisham, but changed from tobacco to the gun industry, has many top-notch performers. John Cusack, the everyman actor, plays Nicholas Easter, who we first see being surveyed unknowingly by two numpties, one with a camera. These guys belong to Rankin Fitch (Gene Hackman) a jury consultant who was hired by the leaders of the gun industry to insure that he picks a jury that will be sympathetic to the gun industry and therefore prevent them from having to open deep pockets and shell out millions of dollars. On the other side is Wendell Rohr (Dustin Hoffman), the attorney for Celeste Wood (Joanna Going), whose husband (Dylan McDermott in a brief cameo) was gunned down at his brokers' company by a failed trader, and who believes that the gun industry should also be held responsible for what happened. After director Gary Fleder establishes both sides, the tale finally begins.

For Rankin, this is a time to go through photos, files, and surveillance video of all potential jurors, demonstrated by some frenzied editing of sound and picture by anorak techno-bore William Steinkemp. This is his moment to shine. However, Fitch runs into trouble because Nicholas Easter, whom he and his crew know nothing about, has been accepted on this jury, after being chewed out by Judge Frederick Harkin (Bruce McGill) for his talk about wanting to skip jury duty for a video game tournament. Civic duty rules in Harkins courtoom and he takes no crap, either from the jury, or from the lawyers.

With the jury selected, populated by the likes of characters played by Bill Nunn, Cliff Curtis, and Luis Guzman, it's time to proceed. While the jury is being fed testimony from both sides, the puppet-string pullers are hard at work. Fitch watches the jury like a hawk, and Easter has his female accomplice Marlee (Rachel Weisz) working with him to accomplish some unclear goal, made clear by the ending, which wraps up things a little too cleanly for my liking.

And that's the framework of the picture. Within this though, there's so much to watch. Gene Hackman screams and gnashes his teeth and really seems to work Fitch as best as he can. He may be given more screen time than Hoffman, but with Hoffman, we can pretty much tell where he stands. He wants the verdict that will give his client what she deserves. He's a good, honest man made even more so by a decision he makes toward the end of the film that ties into the twist. So Hackman is the one to study here. What makes a man work like this? There's no deep psychological explanation, but Hackman really tells, via the script, some reasons of why he is what he is.

Cusack and Weisz have a fairly good chemistry together and Weisz holds her own as a woman whos sarcastic when she needs to be, especially toward Fitch who can't believe that this is actually going on, and pegs Marlee as an amateur. Amateur or not, Marlee certainly knows how the game works. Cusack is your usual everyman, and that's his key strength because with that, you don't think much would be going on with him with this case.

The scene, which stands out most though, is when the two titans of acting coming together, face-to-face. Hackman and Hoffman have a scene together in the men's loo of the courthouse where they argue about morals and what they believe is right and it's a powerful bit of work, considering how far these two have come.

Apart from being spoon-fed the denoument (as in most contemporary US flicks these days), the film runs nicely enough and it's a fairly crisp piece of entertainment.

Director: Edward Zwick
Starring: Tom Cruise, Ken Watanabe, William Atherton, Chad Lindberg, Ray Godshall Sr., Billy Connolly, Tony Goldwyn, Masato Harada, Timothy Spall

Tom Cruise's latest effort in ambitious cinema walks the fine line tread by similar role-reversal Oscar epics such as Dances With Wolves and Gladiator. Featuring remarkable costume design and a poignant storyline, The Last Samurai suffers only under the weight of its own larger-than-life leading man and a helping of overly dramatic dialogue.

The year is 1876. Capt. Nathan Algren (Cruise) is a once-proud American soldier whose contribution to the slaughter of innocent Cheyenne during the Native American Indian Campaigns has transformed him into a nightmare-burdened alcoholic. When Algren is approached by his smug superior officer (Tony Goldwyn) and offered an opportunity to train the Japanese army in the art of American warfare, he reluctantly accepts.

The Emperor's snake-in-the-grass advisor (Masato Harada) is ready to embrace the ways of the West, while proud samurai warrior Katsumoto (Japanese thespian Ken Watanabe) steadfastly holds true to the traditions and honour of old Japan. The Land of the Rising Sun is on the verge of a civil war, and it's on Algren's shoulders to instruct the Japanese army in the use of firearms before all heck breaks loose.

But Algren and the Japanese soldiers are forced to confront the samurai before the men are properly trained, resulting in defeat and Algren's subsequent capture. Injured and angry, he is taken in by Katsumoto and nursed back to health by his sister , Taka(Koyuki). A mutual hatred between Algren and his captors soon becomes a mutual respect, and Algren learns the way of the samurai and forms a friendship with Katsumoto.

Extreme efforts were made in bringing this epic to the big screen. Cruise has brought together some of the best in the business, including director Edward Zwick (Glory) and Academy Award-winning composer Hans Zimmer and it works. Zimmer's beautiful score and Zwick's accomplished direction - especially in the film's brutal battle scenes - combine to paint an incredible and unforgettable portrait of the samurai.

Performances are top-notch as well. One of Cruise's best assets is that he sincerely devotes himself to every aspect of a project he works on, from doing the majority of his own stunts to helping the other actors feel comfortable.

Watanabe plays Katsumoto with a perfect blend of good humour and intense ferocity; you can't take your eyes off this actor. The supporting cast members (especially an excellent portrayal by the brilliant Timothy Spall, doubling as narrator) all do their parts to bring this overwhelming undertaking to life.

A formulaic script and Cruise being superstar Cruise are the only things that keep The Last Samurai away from cinematic mastery. The dialogue sways from comical to heavy-handed, and several scenes feature Cruise playing the modern action hero - an odd fit for a period piece of this calibre. Still, there's no denying the overall beauty of the picture.

It may or may not make the Oscar nominations, but a few quid at your local Odeon is a small price to pay for tradition and a charismatic Cruise.

Dogville an isolated town in Colorado is as rotten at its core as any big city. Only Nicole Kidman's character (Grace) doesn't know it yet and she's come to Dogville as a way to escape the city slicker mean-spiritedness of that pace of life. It doesn't take long, though, before the Dogville residents' behaviour resembles that of urban exploitation, and Grace is faced with dilemmas towards her rose-coloured philosophy.

Grace claims to understand and forgive the circumstantial abusive nature of human beings. Director Lars von Trier takes this view and makes everything contemplative about it the central force to this brilliant tale of intellectual awakening.

When Tom (the superb as-ever Paul Bettany) witnesses Grace's getaway from a squad of gangsters, he petitions to let her use the childlike town as the perfect hideout. The insular Dogville community, at first, denies Grace this fortuity, proudly renouncing the need for any domestic help.

Nevertheless, when it's decided that Grace can seek asylum in Dogville, a running joke ensues that Grace's work is a series of chores that don't really need to be done. However, von Trier extracts from the bosom of this simple town the snowballing ways that greed forms in all people. Grace becomes such a part of the town's fabric that when she tries to escape the scorn for assumed wrongdoings she never committed, she's punished in draconian fashion. As Grace is a fugitive, and her mugshot is posted on wanted posters all over town, von Trier aims a pointed stick at the detriments of reputation by stereotype (i.e. racial, religious and class profiling).

The veneer of simple homemaker values, as it covers up the aforementioned rottenness of Dogville, is just one of the socio-politico-economic items on von Trier's chopping block.

Dogville as a film is a bit bizarre. It self-consciously opens on a stark black screen with the title in quotes, underneath that, an explanation that the film will be told in nine chapters including a prologue. Immediately we're thrust upon, not a grand, novelistic sweep of cinematographic composition, but a bare-as-bones theatrical set.

However, even at 177 minutes, Dogville is gripping stuff. Essentially without on-location advantages, von Triers' minimalist epic scope appears vast, yet all the action takes place on an ironically apropos set that is aggressively fake.

As multilayered as Dogville is, this set's minimalism only serves to benefit viewers. It's an interesting exercise in voice-over narration (by John Hurt), stage-acting cinema and role-reversal schematics. Everything awkward about the impressive Dancer in the Dark is disabused in Dogville.

With Dogville to his credit, calling von Trier a genius of narrative is made all the more understandable. He wanted to tell a harrowing tale of civil rights abuses as they pertain to history at large and he does so by coursing it in a real-even-though-it's-pretend allegory. The shoe that is his allegory is laced with fragile, ornamental-coating iconography from beginning to end. Von Trier is able to do with suggested props and the pandemic acting of Kidman what many directors cannot with modest-to-big-budget allocations. When a breakable figurine is smashed, for example, those reverberations territorialise the audience.

At the same time, when infant babies are shot-to-death with handguns, it's rendered hilarious. It's this antithesis that makes Dogville instantly unique, along with its social conscience scope and the way it anagrammatises the language of cinema.