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Pre-festival daze:
The Apostle
Bottle
Rocket
The Return
of the Secaucus Seven
viewed sometime in April, 2000 on video
For full
information about The Apostle, click
here
For full
information about Bottle Rocket, click
here
For full
information about The Return of the Secaucus Seven,
click
here
The middle of this month has been something of a
daze... the things that should interest me (film,
writing, relationships) have been superseded by less
creative or personally fulfilling occupations (work,
stocks, video games)... The Film Festival is coming up
so I'm not eager to see a lot of movies now, in case I
get burned out by the dozen or so I intend to see
over the two-week course of the Fest. Luckily,
each of the three films I have seen, in this recent
period where I have lost track of my days and how I've
spent them, have served as islands of safety, happiness
and escape, although they have nothing in common besides
their humanity.
The Apostle is something of a cross between
Sling Blade and Bulworth -- a man of
importance to his
deep South community suddenly on the lam seeking
redemption for his sin. More specifically, Robert
Duvall plays Sonny, a well-respected small-town
revivalist preacher who assaults the lover of his wife
in a fit of un-Christian-like behavior -- and then
assigns his own absolution. Duvall's earnestness
as both actor and director deserves
the highest praise -- he does right in
depicting people who believe whole-heartedly in
salvation and sin, and the invigorating power of
evangelism. His construction of a spiritual
community around his ministry is a beautiful sequence of
disarmingly honest, heartwarming scenes that unfold at a
fair pace.
The rest of the plot is rather slipshod -- most of
the scenes carry a big dramatic charge in themselves but
don't build up to the payoff one is expecting.
This is especially true of a subplot involving a young
man befriended by Sonny who seems intrigued and
intimidated by religion -- what happens to him in the
end is a big fizzle in every way. Another
disappointing treatment of a promising character is that
of Miranda Richardson -- who looks younger and more
sensuous than ever as an object of temptation -- or
redemption, depending on how you look at it -- for Sonny
in his exile. Her sudden disappearance from the
plot reduces her standing, as well as all characters:
they are metaphors for the moral, sociological and
sexual signposts pointing Sonny in all different
directions. Nonetheless, these characters are
thoroughly portrayed by an excellent cast; led by
Duvall, they are a thrill to watch.
-----
After my first game of basketball in six months, I
rewarded myself for finally exercising by renting Bottle
Rocket (a film I've hungered to see after hearing
Scorsese's praise of it on Roger Ebert's show).
How fitting that my games would be followed by the
gamesmanship of writer/director Wes Anderson and
writer/actor Owen Wilson. It is in many ways the
quintessential indie film -- made by amateurs about
amateurs. Anderson, Wilson, Wilson's brothers and
their buddies made this film on a shoestring after
talking it through while at U. Texas Austin: the story
follows a bunch of childhood buddies trying to finally
break into adulthood by breaking into the world of
robbery.
With their pathetic attempts and repeated failures at
making it, all while carrying the air of slick
professionalism, it may be an allegory for surviving the
world of filmmaking. Its child-like posturings,
mixed with a seemingly bottomless romantic optimism, are
unmistakably American, but precious nonetheless among
the recent morass of terminal cynicism passing as hip
cinema. Edgy, mischievous Owen Wilson jumpstarted
a promising film career with this feature which has
since only gotten him a fling with Winona Ryder.
The next promising young actor is already waiting in
line.
-----
Innocence and mischief are virtues also touted highly
in The Return of the Secaucus Seven, a story that
uncannily matches an idea for a story I had a year ago
when revisiting old friends -- a weekend reunion, shot
in a nonchalant, naturalistic way. This film even
preceded The Big Chill, the definitive reunion movie, at
least for baby boomers. John Sayles' whimsical
approach to the subject is preferable to Lawrence
Kasdan's issues-heavy treatment (how many reunions do
you know center upon issues?) -- at least it's a lot
more fun.
The title may intone a bit of political heaviness,
but quite to the contrary, it's practically spoofs the
political fervor of a past age. And that's not
necessarily a lament, since, as the film makes very
clear, those kids who protested so vehemently back in
the '60s were just kids, reckless, inexperienced, full
of a passion to do something with their lives.
With ten years of life under their bell-bottoms, they
reunite knowing the world hasn't changed, but to their
relief they discover that neither have they.
They're still a bit reckless and passionate about life,
and they cherish that quality in themselves.
I cherish it too, although the film does a little too
much commemoration of each event during the reunion:
sequences are separated to the point of being meted out
piecemeal, and lengthened way beyond their welcome (a 5
minute long basketball sequence is particularly
tedious). The dialogue at times sounds
ridiculously stilted, like bad theater. At its
best, it's like hearing Rohmer in English -- people
talking, expounding half-baked ideas and clever insights
that don't add up to a whole lot but are fun to listen
to anyway. I'll be damned if I'll be able to find
six close classmates to have a ten-year reunion with --
and I'm from Sayles' alma mater. But wait a
minute... our school wasn't co-ed at the time he
graduated, so who knows how autobiographical this
convention of amicable men and women friends may really
be... That's right, if you can't have a great
reunion, make one up.
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