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BradH812
Holy Cardinal and Five Star General of the Righteous Knighthood of Jabootu
USA
1294 Posts |
 Posted - 05/10/2008 : 5:21:22 PM
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You may want to go ahead and scroll down a bit; this intro is long, windy, and is a ten-cent bit of film history that most of you probably already know. I’d hire an editor to tighten this up, but this is kind of a pro bono thing, so....
About fifteen years ago (dear Lord, has it been that long?), I wrote a paper for a class on the business of film, comparing and contrasting the failures of Heaven’s Gate and The Bonfire of the Vanities. My instructor gave me a B+, but with hindsight, he may have been too generous. Today, I’d dock a least a half letter grade from that. I don’t remember what my final conclusion was, but I do know it wasn’t the right one.
A disturbing trend emerged during the 1980’s: the no-fault failure. When Heaven’s Gate tanked at the box office (and with the critics), there were consequences. Severe consequences. United Artists recorded a profit for 1980, in spite of the losses they posted on Gate. But their failure to rein writer-director Michael Cimino in put a giant stain on their reputation. Their executives had been trying to set up a merger deal with Transamerica, and Transamerica ran for the hills after [b[Gate bombed. The stink of the movie’s failure led to United Artists falling apart. Most of Heaven’s Gate’s cast and crew licked their wounds and moved on. But if Isabelle Huppert had been hoping for a breakout into American films, this movie squashed it. Also, composer David Mansfield, who seemed quite talented, never broke into film in a big way. These last two may have stayed out of Hollywood by choice; I don’t know. But there’s no denying that Michael Cimino’s career was destroyed by this movie. He had won the Oscar for The Deer Hunter two years before, and now his name was box office poison. The fact that he had acted like a prima donna on the set and had run the budget up sky high didn’t exactly help. The story behind Heaven’s Gate’s failure is told in Final Cut by Steven Bach, an exec at United Artists in 1980. It gives a good idea of just how Cimino’s ego, along with UA’s taking their laissez-faire approach too far, destroyed director, studio, and probably movie. (Cut’s first third is a long slog, but it’s worth plodding through once you get to the good stuff. Bach’s book has the benifit of hindsight, and it takes a rueful “what were-we-thinking” tone.
Bonfire was a different beast. It was a bestselling book optioned for Warner Brothers by (blech) Peter Guber and Jon Peters. These two left the project early, and Warner decided to make the movie without a producer. No joke. They brought in Brian De Palma to direct, then hired all the wrong people to star in the thing. The Warner execs and De Palma kept arguing back and forth, but in the end, both parties had input into what went into the movie. The thing got some of the worst reviews of the year and was a colossal bomb at the box office. Whose career hit the skids? Well, nobody, really. De Palma took a hit, but he’d had that before, and he’s still working today despite having delivered nothing but crap the last ten years. No one at Warner lost their shirts, to my knowledge. The studio had control of the film; everyone was responsible for its failure; in other words, no one was responsible. See? No-fault failure. Okay, this has happened before in Hollywood, and I do know that some high-profile bombs have sunk a studio or a director since 1990. But these seem to be the exceptions. It’s a disturbing trend, if ya ask me. Bonfire’s failure is chronicled in the book The Devil’s Candy by Julie Salamon. (Why, yes, there will be a test on all these books I’m recommending, so be sure and take notes.) Salamon is an outsider, but she has good knowledge of the film business. The book is a good read, and it has the benefit of hindsight, taking on a bemused “what-were-they-thinking[” tone.
So, the trend is, no one gets the blame for a movie tanking. Directors find work even after making a disaster. Studios remain fat and happy. One would almost have to try to be able to lunch his or her career.
And then we come to M. Night Shyamalan.
I’d been a fan of Shyamalan’s since The Sixth Sense. Didn’t like Unbreakable, but I loved Signs, and maybe I’m in the minority, but I really liked The Village. One thing I liked about The Village is that, like many well-done movies with a BIG TWIST, it gave us something after the BIG TWIST (a la the original The Wicker Man or an extremely creepy Robert Mulligan movie called The Other) to creep us out. I remember a chill going down my spine when seeing the townspeople stand up as one, making their choice. In my opinion, they’d made the wrong decision. With hindsight, it seems more likely now that Shyamalan agreed with them.
Anyway, when the previews for Lady in the Water hit the theaters, I said, “I’m there, dude.” Then the bits of news started coming out: Shyamalan had broken with Disney over Lady, and he’d handled it so badly that the corporate suits emerged as the clear good guys. Shyamalan, who had gotten hit by critics over The Village, was having a tantrum, writing in a bad-guy character who was supposed to be reviled, simply because he was... a critic. Then came the kicker. Shyamalan (notice a pattern here?) had added a character to this little tale: a frustrated writer whose new book would literally save the world. And who was to play this part? Shyamalan himself.
The pendulum swung back hard the other way for me, so much so that when I heard about The Descent, I predicted that it would blow Lady out of the water (pun intended. Or not), throwing an insult Night’s way. And it did.
And now Mr. Manoj “Night” Shyamalan’s in trouble. I’ll agree with him that critics can often screw the pooch; I’ve read some reviews that made me wonder what planet these people were from. However, when 90% of the critics, working independently, say the same thing, that usually means they’re onto something.
While prepping this write-up, I looked through some of the reviews for Lady. Don’t expect to find much that you haven’t seen here; most of the reviews said exactly what I’m gonna say, only more succinctly. At first, I thought these guys were reading my mind. Of course, the real explanation is that this movie’s flaws are so obvious, and so plentiful, that most anyone can spot them.
The making of Lady was recorded in the book The Man Who Heard Voices by Michael Bamberger (yes, that’s THREE books listed here). Bamberger is a writer for Sports Illustrated brought in to write the book. I’m not a reader of SI (well, one issue each year, and I read it for the articles), but.... A sports writer? When I first read Voices, I thought that Shyamalan was going nuts, but at least he was trying something different. But there were little things about the narrative that bugged me. Sometime later, it hit me. Shyamalan was just going nuts, and letting his ego get the better of him. The circumstances of his break with Disney, his treatment of the actors, little moments that hint at deeper problems, all are there. I’m not sure whether Bamberger latched on early that Shyamalan had let his success go to his head and wrote a satiric book (if he did, it was brilliant), or if he was so busy fawning over this Great Director that he didn’t notice Shyamalan’s less endearing traits making their way into the book (more likely). In either case, if you read between the lines, a fairly dark, unpleasant portrait of M. Night Shyamalan emerges. (The book was released before the movie was, so it didn’t have the benefit of hindsight the other two books have, leading me to believe that it was indeed a puff piece that ended up telling more than it meant to. A paperback edition came out a year after the movie tanked, but I haven’t read it, so I don’t know what its take would be.)
You may notice how I’ve been singling out Shyamalan for a personal one man assault. After reading the book, and seeing the movie, it’s evident that Shyamalan had an almost Kubrickian level of control. This wasn’t a case of a director flummoxed by a misfortune in casting or having to compromise for budget. It’s not even a director making mistakes then having to live with them. No, M. Night Shyamalan had the final say in just about everything that went into this movie, and he had no qualms about using — and possibly abusing — that power. This is his baby; everything in it, good and bad (mostly bad) can be laid at his door, and believe me, it’s happened. Lady in the Water wasn’t the worst movie of 2006 (I’d give that award to The Hills Have Eyes or Bloodrayne), but it’s certainly the biggest disaster of the year.
(Management: If you think this is long-winded, wait’ll you see the Afterthoughts. C’mon, Brad, you’re holding us up, kinda like having fifteen trailers before the movie!)
Okay, okay, I’ll stop bein’ the blowhard and get to the movie.
Brain: Pinky, are you pondering what I’m pondering?
Pinky: I think so, Brain, but what do you do AFTER you’ve torpedoed your career with one movie? Narf!
We open with some nice music from James Newton Howard and some simple black-and-white line animation while a narrator intones (very ponderously) of a distant past when Man and the “creatures who live in the water” got along swimmingly (ha ha) until Man’s greedy and violent nature drove him away from these peaceful creatures and Man became the bunch of warlike murdering bastards that we are today. The narrator adds that Man continues to make war against himself to this day, as there is “no one to guide him.” Oh, and the people from the water try to send out messages to us once again. We see line drawings of a sort of animal attacking one of these water people as the narrator drones about how the young water people now journey to our human world at great personal risk. There are “laws to protect the young,” but it’s still plenty dangerous. Finally, we get the final bit of narration, about how the young water creatures “try, try to help Man, but Man may have forgotten how to listen.” At long last, we get the title, and we’re into the movie. (This kinda reminds me of the opening for Watership Down, except that Watership Down’s prologue — along with the rest of the movie — was much, much more effective.) For the record, I suspect that James Newton Howard’s score will be overly dramatic, but it will still be quite nice. (Future Brad: Right on the money there, except for a few cheesy stings.)
We open some strange screaming, then go inside an apartment, where we see Paul Giamatti in the foreground and a Hispanic family in the background. Seems the family found a large bug in their apartment and called Paul Giamatti to get rid of it. The family has five grown daughters, all living inside a four- or five-room apartment. Anyway, Giamatti gets rid of the bug with a broom handle in a wildly exaggerated and supposedly comical fashion, and I flashed back to the “SQUIRREL!!!” scene in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, which did this bit much better. The only thing we really get from this scene is that Giamatti is, I assume, the apartment complex’s superintendent, and that he has a bad stutter. No joke, the guy sounds like Porky Pig when he tries to talk. We’re off to a very shaky start.
In the next shot, a man named Farber (Bob Balaban) is greeted by Giamatti, and it’s exposited that this is an apartment complex called The Cove, and that Giamatti is, yes, the superintendent; his name is Cleveland Heep (no relation to Uriah). A twenty-year-old Korean girl comes jiggling up, and I do mean jiggling. The camera makes sure to stay on her low-rider clad ass as it bops left and right, then tilts up to show her in a bikini top and an oh-so-faux-trendy red-and-black hair dye job. She has a very heavy accent and speaks in broken English which takes about ten seconds to get annoying as hell. Cleveland gives introductions all around, revealing that the girl’s name is Young-Soon Choi (played by Cindy Cheung) and that she lives with her mother and is a “student at the university.” More expo: though Cleveland doesn’t know what exactly is going on, something’s wrong with the pool. He then gives Young-Soon a book she loaned him, and she reveals that Cleveland “loves to learn,” although he doesn’t want anyone to know. Young-Soon tells Cleve that the pool man’s looking for him.
Cut to the next scene: the pool man tells Cleveland that something in the water has made it “very slick.” Cleveland does his Porky Pig bit again, and this gets annoying pretty fast, too. I don’t buy Giamatti’s stutter, and I have to blame Shyamalan for this. Shyamalan had absolute control here, and he didn’t have any trouble enforcing it. I’ll go into detail later. Oh, Cleveland notes that he heard someone in the pool last night, after hours. The pool man also shows that the pool’s filter has gotten clogged with what appears to be human hair in the last few hours.
Meanwhile, Farber starts meeting with the other tenants here. His first intro is to Reggie (Freddie Rodriguez), a guy who works out only one side of his body. Seriously. His right side is all muscled and veiny, while his left side is almost scrawny. Oh, terrific. This was a big red flag: WARNING! “Colorful and quirky” (read: artificial, false, and grating) characters ahead! Farber’s reaction was, I guess, supposed to show him as a tight assed stick in the mud. But I couldn’t help agreeing with him. If a guy like Reggie lived near me, I’d want to give this nut a wide berth. Cleveland says that Reggie only works out one side because he “wants to be special.” Um, dude, I think there are better ways to be special.
Anyhoo, Cleveland shows Farber toward his apartment. Along the way, they pass by the open door of a man whose apartment is full of books; the man himself looks at Cleveland and Farber but doesn’t say anything. This is Mr. Leeds (Bill Irwin). They then pass the apartment of Mrs. Bell, an animal lover who appears to put out a different doormat for each day of the week. Finally, they pass the apartment occupied by a bunch of rock star wannabees. I’m gonna call this bunch the Stoners. That’s about as much depth as the movie gives them; why should I do any better? Poor Farber: he’s got to live right next door to these Wayne’s World rejects. We get some more expo where Farber reveals he used to live on the West Coast and that he’s been hired by a local newspaper to be their film and book critic. Yeah, okay, boo hiss, whatever. It’s hinted that Farber hasn’t had a lot of success lately, and that he’s stuck here because he couldn’t keep a decent writing job in L.A. Farber’s characterization will be pretty much how I just described it: He’s a critic, boo hiss. This is emphasized by his cold and arrogant demeanor, but again, if I were stuck in an apartment complex with this bunch of characters, I might start to feel kind of cold and arrogant myself.
Have you noticed something here? Farber is being shown to his apartment for the first time. He’s not casing it out before moving in, he’s moving in. And there’s no hint of a moving van or crew bringing any furniture, etc., in. Maybe they’re on their way. More likely, our boy Night forgot that people living in apartments have furniture, too, and don’t just get shown up like they’re in a hotel.
That night, Cleveland hangs around his apartment, getting a message that one tenant thinks the person living above her has died. (As I write this, I’ve seen the movie about halfway through, so as far as I know, this will go nowhere.) He then listens to a news report about local soldiers getting a last blessing before going to war. Ooooooh, not so subtle, Night! Cleveland falls asleep, then we dissolve to him waking up, as another news report with war footage plays on the TV. Shyamalan did a variation on this, more effectively, in The Village. Here, though, I was ready to tell him, dude, anti-war stuff’s been in the movies for more than seventy years. If you have to put this in, go somewhere with it; don’t just rehash stuff that was done better in Paths of Glory.
Cleveland gets ready for bed, and we see something go splash in the pool outside. Cleveland hears it, turns to see something moving around under the water, and goes out to investigate. He notices a small locket lying on the apron next to the pool and puts it on a deck chair. He then starts straightening up the chairs (!) and turning his attention away from the pool. We zoom in on the locket, then a woman bursts out of the pool, grabs the locket, and goes back under, all to a mediocre musical sting. Cleveland yells that there’s no swimming after hours, but the lady stays in the water (Hey! There’s the title!). Now, any ordinary person can hold their breath for thirty seconds or more, easy. But it doesn’t take that long for Cleveland to go from being righteously pissed off to being scared for this person’s safety. Cleveland’s fear is emphasized by his over-the-top stuttering. (The casting of Cleveland Heep was pretty good. No one can play a sad sack better than Paul Giamatti. If only his backstory and dialogue were better.) Cleveland jumps into the pool — without removing his jacket or shoes. He can’t find her, and he gets out. Then he slips and falls on his ass, then slips back into the pool. He tries to reach up out of the water but goes under. Um, I’ve taken a pratfall like this before. It hurt like hell, but I think I’d have the presence of mind and strength to hold myself up above water if I had to. And with that, we fade out.
Fade up on Cleveland coming to, on his bed in his cottage. He looks around to see that someone tracked water in all over the floor.... And looky here, there’s a young redheaded woman sitting on the couch, wearin’ nothin’ but one of Cleveland’s shirts. The lady (Bryce Dallas Howard) stares at Cleveland, a strange look on her face. Cleveland asks if she pulled him out (she did, and I think, well DUH). It’s a reasonable question. Then he asks where she’s from. Um, Cleveland, how’s about “Who are you?!” “What are you doing here?!” Why did he ask the question? It’s In The Script. Actually, since Shyamalan wrote the thing and demanded that no one deviate from it, I’m gonna change that mantra for this movie. Instead of IITS, I’ll say, BNSS: Because Night Said So. Anyway, she answers that she’s from “The Blue World.” Cleveland wonders if that’s another apartment complex (!), and Strange Lady asks if he feels “an awakening,” a sensation like “pins and needles.” Uh.... Huh? Cleveland’s answer is basically the same. Lady asks more weird questions that Cleveland is not the person she was looking for. Cleveland tries to be all chivalrous, saying he’s not into one night stands, and that he doesn’t even know her name. She tells him her name: Story.
The lady’s name is Story. Ay yi yi.
Oh, Cleveland notices his stutter is gone. Thank God. PLEASE tell me it won’t come back. (For the record.... Fat chance.) He tells her that if she wants to leave, he won’t get her in any trouble. But Story is afraid to go outside. Bryce Dallas Howard’s crying here isn’t too convincing. Cleveland tells her she can stay a bit longer until she feels stronger. In this day and age, I’d be reluctant to have a complete stranger in my place for any length of time. Yes, she’s fairly pretty, and she seems all slight and waifish, but remember, Story was strong enough to pull Cleveland out of the water (no mean feat) and carry him back to his cottage. If she’s some crazy lady (which her behavior would support), she could be kinda dangerous.
Fade to Cleveland and Story sleeping on the couch, Story nestled on Cleveland’s shoulder. Um, Cleve, didn’t you say you weren’t into one-night things? It’s clear nothing happened, and they’re fully dressed, but still. Cleveland offers to take her outside, get her some fresh air, then walk her home, but Story doesn’t budge. He asks again who she is and she says she is a “narf.”
Narf. (snicker) I wonder how many people in the theater laughed when they heard this term. More than likely, anyone who had seen the TV show Pinky and the Brain remembered how Pinky would bark out nonsense words. I’d bet real money some wags started saying, “Narf! Zort! Poit!” at this point.
Generally, when you watch a movie, you agree to give it the benefit of the doubt. The viewer and the filmmaker, in theory, have an unspoken agreement. The viewer will pay the money and suspend disbelief (to a point), and the filmmaker will give a good reason for this. But when I start thinking, “I ain’t buyin’ this,” less than twenty minutes in, the movie’s in serious trouble.
Cleve carries her to the door, but (bum bum BUM) there’s something prowling around in the woods just outside the apartment complex. Cleveland freezes when he see this green creature skulking around several yards away, and we go into that camera-being-the-eyes-of-the-monster bit. Yep, nothing says quality filmmaking like Monster-Cam! Of course, when we actually see this thing, it’s worse. When making The Shining, Stanley Kubrick threw out Stephen King’s idea of having a topiary come to life and opted instead (very wisely) for a chase through a hedge maze. I suspect that if we’d had the topiary animals, they’d look like this. It looks like — and is — bad CGI. Shyamalan has never been very good with visual effects, and he shows no improvement here.
Story, who has been burying her face in Cleveland’s neck, looks around, sees the green CGI thingy, and starts screamin’ bloody murder. Cleveland gives a scream of his own and breaks into a run. After a cheesy vertigo zoom of the pool, Cleveland runs like hell to get Story back in his cottage, the CGI beasty following in hot pursuit. Cleveland makes his way in, and we go to the next day.
Cleveland describes what he saw to a security guy, who promises to look into it. We get some expo that this movie takes place in Philadelphia. No surprise there: most of Shyamalan’s films have taken place in or around Philly. Something sets off the sprinklers, and Cleveland comments on how that’s been happening a lot lately. Another Monster-Cam shot from outside the cottage, then....
We go inside the cottage, where Story is milling around acting all scared. The music here is a children’s choir doing the “ooo-aaa” thing, and it’s not too bad, but I remember a similar cue being put to better use when David found his robotic brethren in A.I. Story paces around then decides to get in the shower. There’s a nice bit where you can see a slit on the outside of each of her legs; I presume these are gills. The make-up job is pretty seamless.
Cleveland goes out to the pool, where Young-Soon is sunning herself. Young-Soon does the Korea-speak again, noting how the university gives her no time for a social life (well, DUH!). Cleveland asks if any of her books has anything on the word “narf.” Ohhhhhh, how convenient! Young Soon knows all about these narfs. It just so happens that her great grandmother used to tell her bedtime stories about these narfs. Cleveland gets all stuttery again (damn, are we gonna have to listen to this for the next eighty minutes?!), then figures, maybe Young-Soon’s mom remembers the story. Or the Story. Or something. Mrs. Choi speaks no English, so Young-Soon has to translate. Seems that Mom Choi remembers the story “like a prayer, like it was true.” Anyway, a narf is a “sea nymph.” From here on, I’m gonna call Mrs. Choi “Mrs. Expo”; she has no other purpose than that, except to argue with her daughter. Why don’t I call Young-Soon AKG: Annoying Korean Girl. Again, that’s as deep as we get with her. Mrs. Expo lets us know that this narf “must be seen by the one human chosen for her. This person is called the vessel. Seeing the narf will awaken something in the chosen one. If she is successful in this, she will return with the Great Eatlon, a giant eagle, and become free.” Are you getting all of this? Mrs. Expo refuses to tell more, but I’m sure she’ll change her mind later on as the story (or Story) dictates.
It was around here that I first started to ask, “Did Shyamalan make this thing up as he went along?”
Cleveland returns to his cottage. Story steps out of the shower to face him. We only see her leg, but it’s obvious she’s, um, alfresco. Cleveland asks her to put something on, but notice that he does not turn his head away or cover his eyes. Hmmmmmm, so much for chivalry. Story confirms Mrs. Expo’s story; she’s here to find “a writer.” Beyond that, she has no idea who this person is, except that they are “writing something important.” We have a brief Monster-Cam shot from outside to heighten the tension, then go back in. Sheesh! Story tells Cleveland that she can leave anytime after she finds this writer.
Cleveland goes to the first writer he can think of: Farber. Farber mentions he’s about to see a romance film. “Not my cup of tea.” (Um, are you on the job, Farber? If not, why go see a movie that’s not your thing?) He also reveals he hasn’t written anything in a long time. So, uh, how did you get the film critic gig here, Farber? And if that’s BS, then I’ll repeat that question in the parentheses. Farber then drops a convenient tidbit: Mrs. Bell has written something. So Cleveland bops on over to Mrs. Bell’s apartment, only to learn that her book has been out of print for more than twenty years. Mrs. Bell chastises the absent Farber for “speaking out of turn.” Methinks Shyamalan will take every opportunity he can to make this boo-hiss critic look bad, yes?
Cleveland goes to repair the door for another tenant, Mr. Dury (Jeffrey Wright), a crossword buff (and we can tell this by the untidy mess of crossword puzzles strewn over the floor in his living room) with a young son who is a cereal box connesseur. I’m not kidding. Don’t ask. If you force Night to explain, he might hurt himself. Cleveland tries to pick Dury’s brain, but nope, this guy ain’t writin’ a book either.
Then Cleveland has to go and do some repair work for the Stoners. Question. I lived in a 40-unit apartment complex once, and to the best of my knowledge, the superintendent wasn’t called in every day to fix something somewhere. Do larger complexes have problems all the time like this? Well, The Cove doesn’t seem all that big; it’s maybe twice the size of the complex I lived in. (Future Brad: I was close. I froze the frame later on and did a count of units. 75, in three buildings, each five stories, five units per story.) Any takers? Cleveland seems to be keeping awful busy here. Maybe I’m wrong.
Okay, anyway, Cleveland does some repair work for the Stoners, who have some pseudo-hip banter that got on my nerves, fast. Again, no go, no authors in this bunch.
Cleveland goes out into the courtyard, and AKG is there to offer some more convenient expo. Oh, by the way, AKG ain’t our writer either. Thank God: Annoying Korean Girl is a good title for her; she’s really getting on my nerves. Anyway, Mrs. Expo told AKG about the bad guy in these stories. The big bad villain is a creature called a “scrunt.”
(Snicker) (Snerk) (Snort) (Chortle) A scrunt. Doesn’t that sound kinda vulgar? (Snicker)
(Management: Brad, take your chill pill before you lose it again. Louie’s on vacation and I don’t want to drag out the firehose myself.)
No prob. Anyway, a scrunt (snicker) is meant to kill a narf whenever she is out of the water. Why? BNSS. The scrunt (snicker) can lie completely flat, and its back is covered in grass, making for excellent cameoflage. Well, good cover unless you know how to look for mediocre CGI work. Again, Shyamalan’s doin’ like Indiana Jones, making it up as he goes.
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BradH812
Holy Cardinal and Five Star General of the Righteous Knighthood of Jabootu
USA
1294 Posts |
Posted - 05/10/2008 : 5:34:31 PM
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In Cleveland’s cottage, Story mills around, looking at his little trinkets, then spots a diary hidden on a high shelf. She reaches up, takes it, and starts to read. Nice, girl, go prying through a guy’s private thoughts. Jerk.
Cleveland heads toward the laundry room, running into Vick and Anna Ran. And here we go. Vick is played by the man himself, M. Night Shyamalan! Oooooooh, yeah, I’m gonna have me some fun unloadin’ on Night’s ass about this. But I’ll hold off until Nighty Night shows just how big his ego is. Vick complains about a problem with the wiring in his apartment, and Cleveland, as an afterthought, asks how the writing’s going. Vick says it’s going slowly. Cleveland turns and walks away, then freezes and goes into Porky-Pig-on-crack mode. Sholy hit! We have our writer!
Waitaminute.
Story says she’s looking for a writer. Cleveland decides to find a writer for her. And the struggling writer living here is not the first person Cleveland thinks of! No, he goes bouncing around like a pinball! “Are you a writer? Well, are YOU a writer? Well, is HE a writer?” Right now, Cleveland looks like a righteous idiot, can I hear an amen, brothers and sisters?
Anna complains about how Vick should just finish his damn book, and Vick and Anna bicker and exposit to the audience that they’re brother and sister. I was kinda distracted here, since I realized that Anna was played by Sarita Choudhury. (Deeeeeeep sigh.) Anna’s dialogue doesn’t ring true, and I know why (I’ll get into that later). But.... (Sigh) she’s played by Sarita Choudhury. Why yes, I do get all hot and bothered when I think of this lady. And your point is?
Cleveland volunteers to go ahead and get the wiring taken care of now; it’s no secret that he really wants to get a look at whatever Vick’s writing. And with that, we go to Vick’s study, where Cleveland is fixing the wiring, while taking a gander at Vick’s desk. Vick has an electric typewriter; an unbound manuscript lies to the side with a sheet proclaiming “DO NOT READ” on top. No, not a word processor or laptop, an old electric typewriter. Of course, Shyamalan needed to set it up that way. If it were a computer, Vick’s work would be stored on the hard drive or on a disk. Here, it’s on paper for the world to see. Bad form. (For the record, I do indeed have an electric typewriter, which I bought at a garage sale for five bucks. It’s works quite well, but I only have it in case I need to type something and the printer is on the fritz.) And no, this doesn’t take place in 1985 or some such time; it’s made clear that Lady takes place in the present day.
Anyway, Cleveland ignores the “DO NOT READ” sheet and checks out the title page; this movie takes a rather cavalier attitude toward privacy, doesn’t it. The title page reads “The Cookbook, by Vick Ran.” Cleveland is disappointed, thinking it’s just a cookbook. I wanted to bat Cleveland over the head; you’d have to be a fool not to realize this wasn’t a collection of recipes. Cleveland stammers out “This has gotten s-s-s-s-silly.” Amen, bro. Oh, and Night, you might want to brush up on your research. Most people with a stutter do not stutter when thinking aloud! They only stammer when talking to others.
Cleveland returns to the laundry room to let Vick know the wiring’s okay now. Vick and Anna continue to act like a couple of 13-year-olds, bickering over the laundry, and Vick makes a comment about how annoying Anna can be. More clunky expo, and Cleveland learns that Vick’s cooking skills are about like mine: very limited. He makes a lame excuse and tells Vick he saw the title of the book. Vick agrees, it’s a poor title, adding, “It’s actually, you know, just my thoughts on our cultural problems, and thoughts on leaders and stuff.” Uh oh, here’s our writer, writing something (whispering) im-por-tant! You gotta be kidding me. Of course, this is what got the movie in serious trouble even before it got released. People got wind of the fact that Night had written the part of a writer who was writing something that would change the world — and cast himself in the part — and they smelled blood. And rightly so. You know what? It’s obvious that Vick was supposed to be Shyamalan himself (I saw the guy in an interview, and it looks like he used his own favorite shirts and pants for Vick’s wardrobe). So I ain’t callin’ the guy Vick anymore. I’m calling him Vick/Night.
More problems here. It’s obvious this book is supposed to be some revolutionary work. But when I saw the title “The Cookbook,” I couldn’t help thinking of the Anarchist Cookbook, which was, from what I’ve heard, a rather amateurish book on how to be a terrorist. Not something a great writer would want to be associated with, is it.
One final problem, and it ties in once again with Shyamalan’s ego. I remember having an idle conversation with some co-workers several years back, and we all joked how we were able to solve the world’s problems while mowing neighbors’ lawns when we were kids. And lest we forget, there’s this little thing called blogging. Need I say more? So, why should this book of Vick/Night’s be any different? We don’t actually see anything in there or hear of any of Vick/Night’s politics or philosophies. So what makes him so special?
Well, he’s played by M. Night Shyamalan. Seriously, that’s the tone this picture takes. Throw another grating annoyance onto the heap (or is that Heep? Ha ha!).
Okay, okay, back to the story. So, Cleveland finally has his writer. So he goes back to his cottage, where Story is there, looking all mopey-eyed, holding his diary. She reveals Cleveland’s backstory. Seems Our Hero was once a doctor whose life fell apart after a burglar broke in and killed his family. And that’s his story. All of it. Cleveland goes into sad-sack mode again, thinking he’s nothing special. Story says, “You have a purpose, Cleveland. All beings have a purpose.” Doesn’t sound too inspiring to me. I immediately thought of a scene in The Incredibles where Helen tells her son, “Everybody is special” and her son fires back, “That’s another way of saying no one is.” Brad Bird has a better bead on things than Shyamalan, if’n ya ask me. And another thing: if I were Cleveland, I’d be pissed off at this narf (snicker). She’s trying to act like she’s some savior here, but the woman read his diary, his most personal thoughts. That’s crossing the line. Story is not only a poor motivator; she’s kind of a self-righteous, prying jerk.
Cleveland then tells Story he’s got her writer outside. He shows Vick/Night in, on a very shaky pretense, and introduces the two. I had to wonder if anyone would trust Cleveland. He hasn’t been very honest with people here, and he’s a pretty bad liar. Anyway, Vick/Night has that pins-and-needles feeling, then leaves, heading back to his own apartment. Okay, why the pretense? Cleveland could take Vick/Night aside and say, “Listen, I want you to meet someone. This may seem a little strange, but I think you’ll thank me later on.” So, why tap-dance around it? BNSS, of course. Oh, and Story doesn’t actually do anything. They just say howdy, and that’s it. Is this her mission in total? Just meet the guy? Seems she’s going to a lot more trouble than she has to. And if she needs to do more than just meet the guy, why doesn’t Cleveland ask Vick/Night to sit and talk with her for a few minutes?
BNSS.
Cleveland asks Story to stay in the cottage and wait for him while he does some tidying up around the complex, and Story tells him, “Your heart is very big.” Ummmmm, yeah, okay. Cleveland asks Story not to bring up his family again, or to reveal his little secret to anyone else. I like Paul Giamatti, but I don’t like his performance in this movie. I think just having him look Story in the eye and say it calmly and quietly would go a lot further than having him get puppy-dog-eyed at the drop of a hat. But hey, what do I know? I don’t get paid millions of dollars to write and direct a film. (Then again, there’s a chance Shyamalan will be in the same boat pretty soon.)
Cleveland goes in to meet with one Mrs. Bubchik (Tovah Feldshuh) and fix her toilet. Mrs. Bubchik’s hubby is in the bathroom, and the Mrs. gives a little TMI about her better half. Anyway, Mr. Bubchik called the plumber earlier and got it fixed. Cleveland apologizes for not coming in sooner and leaves.
Well, you just know these two are gonna be important later on. Go and look up Roger Ebert’s rule about the Economy of Characters. But damn, Night, did you have to have the neon sign reading PLOT POINT?
Cleveland goes back to Story and pumps her for more info on this scrunt (snicker). Yes, I suspect I’ll chuckle every time I say that stupid word. Story tells Cleveland “There are laws. It will be safe. I am allowed to leave this night.” BNSS. So, why doesn’t she? BNSS. Cleveland escorts her back to the pool, but she tells him he can’t watch her leave. Ooooookay. He leaves her by the pool, then goes to the stairwell to tidy up, when Story comes running in, scared to death and crying, and one notices she has scratches over her lower legs and feet. Apparently that great Eatlon (snort) never came, and the scrunt (chortle) attacked her. Cleveland says he thought there were supposed to be rules. Yeah, what about that? Hmmmmm, seems this particular scrunt (hee hee) is a dirty little cheater. And at that point, the scrunt tries to break through the door and attack Story. Do I need to bring up that the FX work is not at all convincing? Cleveland and Story book out of there, and for some reason the scrunt (heh) doesn’t follow them. Cleveland also notices something wrong with Story’s face, though I didn’t see it.
Let me repeat. I don’t mind not knowing what’s going on in a movie, as long as there’s a feeling that it’ll become clear if I pay attention. Blood Simple is a good example of this. And I don’t mind not getting everything as long as I feel the director knew what he or she was doing. (A certain slowly-paced sci-fi flick by Kubrick comes to mind.)
But this is not the case here. There’s a real feeling that the man behind the camera has no idea what the hell he’s doing. Once again, he’s stringing along, trying anything he can think of, good or bad — mostly bad.
Anyway, Cleveland gets Story outta there and gets her to Vick/Night and Anna’s place. Anna bends Vick/Night’s ear and tells him about Cleveland bringing this underdressed girl in. Her dialogue is very clunky, the sort of thing that a faux valley girl would say. It doesn’t fit in at all with Sarita Choudhury’s persona; she’s always come across to me as being very down to-earth, not given to being a smart-assed chatterbox. There’s a reason for the disconnect between Choudhury’s acting and her dialogue. Yes, I’ll get to it presently (I loves makin’ ya wait), and yes, it’s all on Shyamalan’s head. Oh, and Vick/Night is writing again. I’ll give very faint praise here. A lot of critics blasted Shyamalan’s performance in this film. I thought it wasn’t great, but it was passable. Of course, one has to remember that he cast himself in this part, and that’s where it all falls down.
Cleveland makes his way back to AKG’s place to talk with Mrs. Expo. Mrs. Expo gets AKG on the phone, and AKG tells Cleveland that her mom thinks she’s at dance class, but she’s really clubbing. Hmmmmmm, no time for a social life, eh? Anyway, it’s time for more storytelling (or Story-tell— I know the Story jokes are getting old, but the movie is begging for them). Cleveland asks what happens if a narf gets scratched. The answer: a scrunt has poison that can kill narfs, but narfs can protect themselves with a mud called Kii. This stuff can cure them, and they “keep it where they live.” Cleveland asks, how can we stop the green CGI beastie? The answer: only a rogue scrunt would “break the law of that night” because most scrunts live in terror of the “Tartutic,” which Mrs. Expo and AKG say are “the law-keepers in this bedtime story.” The Tartutic are a group of three monkey-like creatures that live in the trees and are “so evil they killed their parents on the night they were born. The fear of them has kept justice on the Blue World for centuries.” Mmmmmmm, yeah, trusting your law enforcement to a triad of evil monkeys. This makes employing the Dementors in the Harry Potter series look pretty sensible. (rolling my eyes)
Oh, for those keeping score:
Narf.
Scrunt.
Great Eatlon.
Blue World.
Tartutic.
And why am I perfectly willing to accept a story filled with hobbits, orcs, ents, elves, and uruk-hai? Maybe because J.R.R. Tolkien was a better writer and because Peter Jackson is a better director. Just maybe.
Manoj, you didn’t think any of this crap through, did you?
Oh, and this is the first (and I doubt the last) time that we are told outright that we’re watching a “bedtime story.” Again, if it’s a good movie, we don’t have to be told. We’re willing to go with it.
Cleveland dives into the pool to try to find some of this “mud called Kii.” He removes the grating over the pool’s drain and swims into the filter syst— Well, no, not the filter. A cave.
There is a cave under this pool. And a metal door with a strange symbol carved on it.
Has this movie gone completely bonkers?! What the hell?!
Anyway, there’s some business about Cleveland finding some drinking glasses filled with air in this cave, and some shots of him seeing some jewels down there. Ummmmm, okay. The scene was shot in such a way that I really couldn’t tell what the hell Our Hero was doing down there, but I did notice one thing: Cleveland holds his breath for almost two and a half minutes in this scene. Not so far-fetched, maybe, if you’re an experienced diver. But if you’re an apartment super....? Anyway, Cleveland somehow gets the door open and, I guess, gets his hands on a jewel or something. No joke, that’s how goofy this scene was: I couldn’t tell what the hell was going on here.
Cleveland makes his way back to his cottage, but before he can even dry off, there’s a knock at the door. Aw, naw, not YOU! Yep. AKG. Her mom gave more expo. Joy. AKG tells Cleveland that her mom considers him to be a stranger:
AKG: You have to make her see you as a child, innocent. Then she will tell you the bedtime story. [Number of Bedtime Story references: 2.] There is a reason the rules might be broken. A Thousand Narfs is about a rare narf who comes once in a generation of narfs who is called the Madam Narf. [No relationship to the Hollywood Madam, I presume.] Her vessel is important. This vessel will cause change. But it is the Madam Narf herself who is truly the key. She’s considered a queen to her people. Her return will be seen as a great inspiration. A scrunt will do anything to kill a Madam Narf, even forget his fears of the Tartutic. He might break the rules for that, Mr. Heep.
Cleveland: Will she know that she is the Madam Narf?
AKG: No. That is moral of bedtime story. [sic] (Number of Bedtime Story references: 3) No one is ever told who they are. I think we are linked. It’s more than just a story to me, too. I actually want to believe it.
She bids Cleveland goodnight and jiggles on off. Do you notice something here? M. Night Shyalalan is grabbing us by the lapels, slapping us around the head, and saying, “This is a fairy tale! This is a bedtime story! Don’t question it! Just go with it, cause I say so!” The fact that he has to all but get in our faces and shout this at us gives it away: it’s not, you know, a good bedtime story.
Cleveland goes back in and gives Story that lump of Kii he got out of the cave under the pool. The dialogue reveals that the cave is some sort of crossing-over point to this Blue World. Nope, I ain’t buying it. This movie lost my suspension of disbelief a good while ago. At point Cleveland says that this “door to the Blue World needs a little work.” Master of understatement, he is. Actually, the script needed a little a hell of a lot of work. Then Cleveland notes that those little trinket he saw were knickknacks left around the pool by the apartment residents; Story took them for souvenirs. Great. Now the movie’s glossing over the fact that Story is, basically, a petty thief. Then Cleveland tells Story she’s a lot more important than she thinks she is, and we cap this scene off with another shot of the bad-CGI scrunt.
[Future Brad: May I butt in for a minute? Thanks. My method for writing a review for one of these things is either to go back and forth between the living room and the computer, watching a bit then typing and so on, or (more often) dictating my notes into a tape recorder while watching the movie. I chose the latter method here. Anyway, at about this point, I’d dictated about half the movie and went ahead and typed up my notes. Then I went back to watch the second half. Since I had my dictation down, I decided to go ahead and watch the behind-the-scenes featurettes, and it was here that I realized that the better part of the shots of the scrunt weren’t CGI at all. They were animatronics. I’m not going back to correct the earlier mentions of computer animation, since it’d take too long, but there you go. And isn’t it interesting. The animatronic work still looks like poor CG. Okay, back to the review.]
We now have some more dialogue between Cleveland and Story. They don’t really say much, but we do learn that Cleveland’s told Vick/Night and Anna the whole story about Story, then he shows the two in. Once again, Anna’s dialogue doesn’t jibe with Sarita Choudhury. She tries to make her performance fit the character, but it just doesn’t work. I was going to wait until a certain point to discuss why the character doesn’t work, but now I realize that it occurs very late in the film. What to do, what to do? Well, since it’s an example of how Shyamalan’s ego tripped him up here, I think I’ll save it for Afterthoughts.
Vick/Night tells Story that his thoughts “have become clearer” since he met her, and that his book is now progressing nicely. Story asks if he wants to know his future, and he nods. She says, “A boy in the Midwest of this land will grow up in a home where your book will be on a shelf and spoken of often. He will grow up with these ideas in his head. He will grow into a great orator. He will speak, and his words will be heard throughout this land and throughout the world. This boy will become leader of this country and begin a movement of great change. He will speak of you and your words. Your book will be the seeds of many of his great thoughts. It will be the seeds of great change.” I was ready to give my smart-assed reply: “And this great man of change will be.... Billy Jack!” But wonder of wonders, Anna gives a response better than that. It is the first honest-to-God (intentional) laugh in the movie, and it is one of the very few moments of honesty here. Anna looks at Story incredulously, and says, “The Cookbook?!?!” It’s the best line in the movie; if anything, it’s too good. Again, I thought of solving the world’s problems while mowing lawns. There are plenty of books on politics and philosophy to go around, and you’d have to really work to convince me that Vick/Night is the reincarnation of Harriet Beecher Stowe.
We go outside for a moment to see that, apparently, everyone who lives in The Cove is at the pool, which, by the way, is rather small for a 75-unit apartment complex. Then we go right back in to see that Cleveland is now in the apartment of (oh, please God, no) Mrs. Expo and AKG. Cleveland tries to be all ingratiating, but he comes across to me as a bad salesman. He wants to hear more of the story. Can’t get enough of it, eh? (Seriously, I’d bet that AKG and Mrs. Expo’s telling Story’s story takes up thirty minutes of a 103-minute movie.) Cleveland tries to lie down and act like a four year-old kid while listening to this, and I felt pity for Paul Giamatti. Poor guy. Went from Sideways to this. For once, we don’t hear directly what Mrs. Expo has to say; we just go back to Cleveland in Vick/Night and Anna’s apartment.
Anna tells Cleveland that Story’s doing much better; seems she feels better when in the shower. Cleveland wants to talk to her, and Vick/Night should be there too, but Story is crouching in a fetal position in the buff in the shower (in the movie on the DVD in the player in my living roo— okay, I’ll stop). Chivalry must prevail, so Cleveland waits outside the bathroom, calls out what he wants to ask to Anna, and Anna goes and tells Story. This back-and-forth is shot from overhead, and the camera is higher than the ceiling. It tracks back and forth, going through walls, basically knocking down the fourth wall (or the ceiling) and imitating Brian De Palma. Um, Manoj, I don’t think De Palma is someone you wanna imitate.
Cleveland says, “Tell her I know she is not allowed to tell about her world, but maybe I can just ask some questions, and she can tell me if it’s right or wrong.” Ah! Twenty questions! Anna tries to entice Story to go along with this; again, her dialogue is that of a much younger woman. Anyway, this strikes me as cheating, but Story agrees to use a crude form of sign language to confirm or deny what Cleveland’s found out.
Cleveland’s first question: “So, in this bedtime story (Bedtime Story Count: 4), the narf has come to a pre-ordained place. She must leave from the same spot. The eagle coming back to take her is very important.” Cleveland has also learned that there are people with “powers that can help her, and have been unconsciously drawn to live near the vessel.” (Remember, Vick/Night is the vessel. Say, how many people can tell me what this tale is about so far? Anyone been able to keep up?) Anyway, these helper people don’t know who they are, and they always appear earlier in the story. Story confirms this part of the story. (I know, I know, don’t say it. Blame Shyamalan; he’s the one who named this devotchka.) Anyway, these helper people have weird names: a Symbolist (or interpreter), a Guardian, and a Guild. Oh, and there’s also a Healer, just in case something goes wrong, “a human, usually a female, so full of hope that they can awaken the life force in all things.” Story signs to Anna that she thinks Cleveland is supposed to be the Guardian. And the others? (If I was in the theater, it’s about this point that I would have thrown my hands up and walked out.) Story doesn’t know who the Interpreter is, nor does she know what people make up the Guild, “whose many hands will combine to help.” No word on who the Healer is either, but Cleveland remembers a little quirk he noticed about Mrs. Bell, and believes he’s found his Healer. Story signs that this sort of thing has to be learned, I.e., Our Hero has to figure this stuff out and can’t be told straight out. Kinda like playing Myst. Except that Myst was, you know, entertaining. Oh, one final thing: Story has only one more chance for that eagle to come and take her away. So, Cleveland has to figure out what people he needs to help E.T., uh, Story, get home. Then he has to assemble them, then he needs to get them to somehow do.... Whatever.
This doesn’t need a comment, does it. Just repeating it should give a very good idea how disjointed this movie is. Did the people working on the movie have any idea what was going on? Did Shyamalan?
Cleveland decides he should get a little help in deciphering who he needs to get for this little project. So, who would probably know something about bedtime stories? Why, a film critic! Of course!
Farber is his jerky self, complaining about the apartment and giving snide little put-downs. Yeah, yeah, critic boo-hiss. Get on with it. Cleveland says that Farber should be the resident expert on plot, storytelling, etc. Farber says, “There’s no originality left in the world.” Cleveland gives a short and very confusing version of his quest (and note for later that he does not tell Farber why he’s asking for his advice), then asks for Farber’s take on it. Farber gives his best answer: the Interpreter should be simple: “Look for someone doing something mundane but requires analysis. Someone who is skilled at puzzles.” Ah so, Mr. Dury! And we get a shot of Dury at his crosswords, because you just know us plebs in the audience didn’t remember him. Farber then says the Guild should be any group of characters that are always seen together. Ahhhhh! The Stoners! By the way, I haven’t read Joseph Campbell, but I wouldn’t be surprised if some of what Farber is saying is a variation on Campbell’s monomyth theories. Farber then slams the door in Cleveland’s face, being the rude film critic he is. It’s painfully obvious that Farber was just telling Cleveland something to get rid of him. But Cleveland takes Farber’s words as gospel truth. This sets up a moment near the ending— No, I won’t get ahead of myself. For now, let me just say that in about a half hour, Shyamalan, in an attempt to give film critics the finger, will torpedo his credibility, then hit it with a howitzer, then drop an H-bomb on it. |
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BradH812
Holy Cardinal and Five Star General of the Righteous Knighthood of Jabootu
USA
1294 Posts |
Posted - 05/10/2008 : 5:58:42 PM
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Story continues to crouch in the shower stall, though now she has a towel wrapped around her. Cleveland brings in Mrs. Bell and Dury and the Stoners (hmmmm, Dury and the Stoners; doesn’t that sound like it could be a REALLY bad rock group in the late 60’s?), letting them know that Story wants to go home but can’t, we have to help her, yadda yadda yadda. More roolz to the story: the Interpreter will tell us what to do if something goes wrong using “an instrument specific to him.” Yes, Dury will use crossword puzzles to figure out what the next move is. (Future Brad: Shyamalan will try to act all superior later on by revealing that this crossword bit is a blind alley. Then he’ll shoot himself in the foot by giving us a method of “interpreting” this crap that is truly even more risible.) Dury’s not so sure this will work, and I found myself agreeing with him, but Cleveland presses, and Dury tries to read his crossword to interpret. You read that right. Anyway, he notices some crossword clues that strike him as odd (and just to clear things up, no, I’m not making ANY of this up). The clues are “essential,” “scheme,” and “soiree.” Dury interprets this to mean they need to have a big block party in the courtyard. Having so many people there should confuse the scrunt (snort) and throw him off the scent for a bit. At this point, Anna pipes in, “He’s hearing the voice of God through a crossword puzzle!” I have no idea whether this line was meant to be taken straight or as a joke. There’s no telling with this movie. But then Cleveland remembers, oh yeah, Story can’t hitch a ride on this giant eagle if there’s a crowd of people around. Oh, he can watch, since he’s the Guardian (and so can the rest of this motley crew), but the regular ol’ apartment folks are at the party, well.... Ah, but Dury has a perfect solution: bring a band in, have everyone go inside to listen to them, and Bob’s your uncle! Note that there is no large meeting hall or auditorium in this complex. We’d have to have dozens of people (at least) crammed into an 800-square-foot flat. Yeah, there’s a plan for ya, kids. Where were these guys when Operation Overlord was getting set up? Apparently that line of Anna’s wasn’t sarcasm (although Choudhury may have lost patience and thrown in a wink to the audience); she now calls Dury “a prophet.” Dury answers, “We’re all seeing what we want to. I just made all that up.”
That’s two, count ’em, two honest lines in this thing. But Cleveland is convinced this is gonna go off like buttah.
Another Monster-Cam shot of Cleveland’s cottage, and we go inside. Story lounges on the couch while Cleveland worries about tomorrow night (hmmmmm, not so confident now, are we, my friend). He frets that he might be in over his head (ya think?). Around here, I realized that Bryce Dallas Howard has had very little to do. Just give glassy stare after glassy stare and mumble a head-scratcher from time to time. Here, she sits up and tells Cleveland, “You will need a mirror.” Ya see, it’ll be revealed that the Guardian can stare down the scr— I’m not going to say that damned word again. Forget it, Night; I’m through doing this on your terms. I’m already calling Young-Soon AKG; I think I’ll call your little grassy wolf whatever comes to mind.
So, the Guardian can stare down Mean-n-Green and freeze the beastie with his gaze — or even scare off the big animatronic goof. But he’s gotta stare right in the beasty’s eyes. To see its eyes, he needs to see its reflection. Ergo, the mirror. (The exact line is, “It is only through a mirror that one can see the eyes of a scrunt in the grass.” How in the hell did Opie’s daughter say this without cracking up?) Sound awkward? Exactly. Cleveland figures he’d better make sure this works before putting their plan to action. He goes outside with the mirror and a walkie-talkie, while Story directs him from inside. (If you’re commenting that dry runs usually aren’t as dangerous as the for-real-this-time go-around, well, you’re right.)
Hey, whaddaya know, that mirror trick worked! Cleveland looks over his shoulder into the mirror to see a pair of glowing red eyes! (Awkwarder and awkwarder.) Story then tells him about the Guardian’s little stare trick, noting that things are “about to get very dangerous.” Thanks for telling him that beforehand, sister. He must invoke the ancient words Klaatu Barata— Whoops, sorry, was thinking of a much better movie. No, he must invoke the ancient words: “Nef Ra Mora.” Translation: Hey, scrunt! Yer mama was a topiary bunny rabbit! Cleveland does this, picking a fight with the Malevolent Muppet, and the thing starts to rise up to face him. Uh oh, this little staring trick isn’t working. Story asks, “What is the J. G. scrunt’s reaction?” J. G.? Huh?! Do these things have naval rankings or something? Cleveland announces that Big-n-Ugly isn’t cowed by his icy stare. Story gets it through her skull that something’s rotten in Denmark and screams for Cleveland to haul ass out of there. Cleveland does so, his first really smart move in this picture (would’ve been smarter if he’d had a plan for if this dry run went south, hey?).
We have an attempt to manufacture suspense as Story wonders what happened to Cleveland (don’t worry, gal, he’s still alive; the movie still has about a half hour to go). Then we go back out to the pool area, where Farber stands near the pool wondering what Cleveland’s doing sprawled out on the ground. Cleveland gets to his feet, not explaining what was going on, asking instead about the movie Farber saw. We have more “isn’t the movie critic a pretentious jerk” dialogue, then Cleveland goes back to the cottage. For the record, we have not left the apartment complex during this entire movie, nor will we, except for one shot at the end. So no, we won’t meet any more narfs (snicker), find out anything about this Blue World, or actually see anything there. To show that, Shyamalan would have to, you know, give his little fairy-tale a little thought.
Story tells Cleveland (and the audience) that Cleveland lived that one out because Farber happened to be passing by at the time. Grassy Lassie here doesn’t like to attack if there are witnesses. Why? BNSS. So, Farber basically saved Cleveland’s life. No, he won’t get thanked for it. Anyhoo, Our Hero has figured out he’s not the Guardian. Figured that out on your own, eh, slick? So, now, they have pretty hard evidence Cleveland has made at least one serious mistake in his grand plan. So they figure, get their group together and try rework their plan and iron out any kinks they might—
Made ya look. No, they continue with their plan as if nothing happened. Idiots. Cleveland seems to be cut out for middle management, following Scott Adams’s Dilbert Principle pretty well. He’s running a high risk his plan will collapse (and it will), and he would deserve to get the blame (but he won’t). But I get ahead of myself. Anyway, Cleveland is inside moping, wondering “Where’s the justice?” Whiny doofus. Another shot of Scooby Don’t prowling around and growling, and....
Cut to the next day. We see a sign posted on a door: “Welcome the new guy from 13-B [Farber]! Poolside party! Baby’s on the Half Tip! Tonight at 8 pm! All tenants invited!” (pause) “Baby’s on the half tip”? *sitting in a corner and sobbing quietly* Oh, and with a small, close-knit complex, I could see having a little welcoming party for a new tenant. But there was no party welcoming me, or anyone else, to that place I stayed in (small to medium size), and this place is twice as big. I wonder if Shyamalan ever came within ten miles of living in an apartment building like this? Oh, and it’s obvious most of the tenants are gonna want to party for the sake of having a party. The new tenant isn’t named, and one assumes if they knew it was Farber this party would be a serious bust.
AKG comes up and asks Cleveland, “How come you don’t ask about bedtime story anymore?” [sic] (Bedtime story references: 5) AKG isn’t coming to the party, as she has to “study.” I don’t mind, really; she’d kill the mood if she was there. She’s actually quiet in this scene. Cindy Cheung is awfully cute when she isn’t spouting groan-worthy dialogue.
Cleveland drops in on Mr. Leeds to see if Mr. Leeds is going to the party. Leeds says, “Does Man deserve to be saved?” Huh? Cleveland answers yes, which surprises Leeds. Leeds reveals that he checked Cleveland out when Cleveland came to work here, and he knows about Cleveland’s family. He tells Cleveland to get to work on letting his family go: “You don’t want to become like me.” Leeds also states that the invitation was pretty transparent: he picked up immediately that something’s up. Also, Leeds has noticed “something strange” going on here in the last few days.
This was probably the single best scene in the whole movie, and it owes a lot to Bill Irwin’s performance. Irwin delivers his lines quietly, giving the impression that Leeds burned out a long time ago. He doesn’t acts all weepy or mopey; he acts tired. This strikes me as being the actions of a man who had his life destroyed, much more than Cleveland’s schtick (it also calls to mind Mel Gibson’s performance in Signs). Why couldn’t this movie have been about Mr. Leeds, rather than Cleveland? Leeds is a far more compelling character than anyone else I’ve seen, and he’s been on screen for a total of about ninety seconds. This was the first scene where everything clicked, and we’re more than two-thirds through the movie.
Even this scene has problems, though. First, there is the weird placement of that question Leeds asks. Second, Shyamalan’s mining earlier work: this scene plays very much like the confrontation between Graham and Ray in Signs (in which Shyamalan gave himself a speaking part, but was smart enough to limit it to one scene).
We have a shot of the wind picking up some of the party favors and blowing them away (um, guys, ever hear of paperweights?), then we go back once again to Vick/Night’s apartment (or is it Cleveland’s cottage? I’m not paying much attention to the surroundings anymore). Vick reveals he has finished his magnum p.i. opus, and he confronts Story with something he’s worked out. He’s hit on the fact that there has to be some catalyst that gets his book the attention of the world, and he’s also noticed that this Future Great Leader won’t meet him. Story confirms his fears (well after the audience has figured it out): someone will kill him for writing this thing.
Great day in the mornin’. Shyamalan has a martyr complex, doesn’t he. And it’s not much of a push to say he has a Christ complex (and an apartment complex, but that’s not a mental thing). Anyway, Story rattles off some new-age-y philosophical babble, then Anna comes in making idle chatter, asking how many kids Vick/Night’s gonna have (oh the irony! The bitter gut-wrenching irony!). Vick/Night makes a strange joke to Anna, and vice versa; sometimes having someone laugh at a private joke works. Here, nope, it doesn’t. After Anna leaves, Vick/Night tells Story not to tell Anna of his future martyrdom. Foregone conclusion, I’d think, but remember, Story’s a bit of a Chatty Cathy who doesn’t seem to put much stock in people’s privacy.
We have a shot of Cleveland writing in his diary (and this goes nowhere), then we go to an overhead shot of the pool party. The entire complex must’ve turned out; I froze the frame and counted at least a hundred extras here. Farber mills about, wearing a suit and tie in this obviously short-and-tees affair (subtlety, they name is not M. Night Shyamalan). And, yes, he tries to be all puffed up so film critics can look like idiots. Give it a rest, Night. And of course, Farber doesn’t have a clue that something’s up, even after he realizes that no one has any idea who he is, even though this party is supposedly being thrown in his honor.
Meanwhile, back to the cottage or apartment or wherever. Story offers to tell Cleveland his future, but he declines. About time someone told this lady to shut up. They talk about nothing for a moment, then Story says she doesn’t really know what’s going to happen to her. Cleveland has a pretty rich line: “You have to believe this all makes sense somehow.”
Whom do these people think they’re fooling?
Cleveland realizes somehow that every time Story breaks a rule and tells him something she’s not a-s’posed to, she gets a little sicker and sicker. Funny thing: she started out strong enough to pull a grown man out of a pool and carry him back to his house, but she’s been a weak sister ever since. Instead of answering his question, she says, “There’s a storm coming,” then reveals she’s not up for being some Great Leader (which I fully believe). Cleveland tries to give her an inspirational speech that doesn’t inspire. Then Story jerks her head upward and tells Cleveland that (bum bum BUM) the Great Eatlon is coming. And at long last, we’re into the third act!
Cleveland carries Story out into the party, and naturally, the partygoers don’t notice. Anna mills about, then takes out a compact to apply make-up, reacting to something she sees in the mirror. Weird way to post a lookout, but there you are. Cleveland and the Stoners and the other players in this goofy game signal each other that it’s showtime. Get the extras outta there and prep Story for take-off.
In a very contrived bit, Anna drops her mirror and loses it among the crowd. Okay, dropping a dime and losing it here, I can buy. A compact? Nuh-uh. Oh, and we see Reggie the half-bodybuilder in the crowd. D’you remember Reggie? Hmmmmmm, I wonder if he’s gonna play a part in the proceedings? We have yet another Monster-Cam, showing that the Green Beastie from the Blue World is inching closer to the crowd, and I wondered, how sure is Story that this thing won’t attack if there are witnesses? Good job, Cleveland, you just turned a hundred innocent people into human shields. (No, that doesn’t happen, but the fact that Our Heroes were willing to take this risk is a big mark against them.)
Cleveland approaches one of the Stoners and asks why the music hasn’t started. The Stoner reveals that they’ve been playing around with the walkie-talkie all night. Cleveland rolls his eyes and says, “You used up the batteries!” Once again, Cleveland, are you sure these are the right guys for the job? No wonder Story’s scared, with this confederacy of dunces “protecting” her. The Stoner tries to get the band’s attention, but of course, everyone in the band is looking the other way. Cleveland wonders why this isn’t all working. He never hits on the reason: maybe he didn’t think this thing through. Moron.
In a real jaw-dropper, Cleveland looks back to see that the Blue Meanie from the Green World (or is that the other way around?) has grabbed Story and dragged her off. Once again, no one has noticed. Cleveland goes chasing after her. Amazingly, Mayhem Muppet hasn’t torn Story to pieces; equally amazing, it doesn’t tear Cleveland to pieces. No, It runs off! Um, Cleveland, did it ever occur to you to get someone to watch Story and make sure she was okay? Dummy doofus moron! No wonder he doesn’t feel heroic: he’s NOT! He’s an idiot!
Cleveland carries Story to the complex’s mailroom, and his little inner circle gather round. It’s notable that Story has pale blond hair now. For most of the movie, it was red. I read that this change was intentional, to show her increasing frailty. It still looks like a continuity error. Anyway, Story’s in a coma (like most of the people watching this thing).
Outside, the Stoners make tracks for the mailroom. We see a door to the back hallways of the complex slowly swing closed. Hmmmm, I wonder what just went in? Nope, the CGI beastie bolts in just before the door closes. Jeez, a simple little bit like that, and the filmmakers blew it.
Before we get to the next scene, let me shout out a warning to Food. If you’re watching this, have plenty of old towels under you. This next scene will draw so much anal blood it’ll look like a Marburg outbreak. (For anyone else, make sure you’re sitting down and don’t have anything in your mouth.)
Our Heroes crouch around the unconscious Story. Clearly, this whole thing’s going to hell in a handbasket. Cleveland looks to Dury for guidance, but Dury’s at a loss. He finally latches on to what’s been obvious to the audience for twenty minutes or more: they’ve been on the wrong track. They chose the wrong people to be Healer, Guardian, Guild, etc. Dury finally asks Cleveland why he was so sure he had the right people picked out. (Oh boy, here we go.) Cleveland reveals it wasn’t his idea: “I asked someone who acted like he knew.”
Dury’s response is a true jaw-dropper: “What kind of person would be so arrogant to presume to know the intentions of another human being? Who put this young girl’s life in jeopardy?!”
With that, we cut to Farber, making his way through the back hallway.
(long pause) You gotta be sh!ttin' me.
The more I think about this line, the more amazed I am at Shyamalan’s hubris. I’m gonna save all of my other comments on this until Afterthoughts, because it’s gonna take some time to give this megalomaniac the waylaying he deserves, and I want to get to the end of the movie first. Rest assured, I’m gonna unload. Boy oh boy, I’m gonna unload.
Okay, Farber’s in the back hallway. And guess what’s in there with him. That’s right, Green-n-Ugly. Yes, our scapegoat of the evening, the critic, is about to get et. And one would have to be blind and deaf not to pick up the sadistic glee with which M. Night kills him off. And he doesn’t just kill him off, he pokes his finger in the audience’s eye by having Farber break down the fourth wall and talk to the camera! Either that, or Farber is so far gone he doesn’t even have any survival instincts. Here are Farber’s last words on Earth: “A dog inside the building! Go! Shoo! Why you're not a dog at all. My god, this is like a moment from a horror movie. This is precisely the moment where the mutation or beast will attempt to kill an unlikable side character. But, in stories where there has been no prior cursing, violence, nudity or death, such as in a family film, the unlikable character will escape his encounter, and be referenced later in the story, having learned valuable lessons. He may even be given a humorous moment to allow the audience to feel good about him. This is where I turn to run. You will leap for me, I will shut the door, and you will land a fraction of a second too late.” And with that, CGI monsta pounces on him and kills him in a pretty gruesome (but clumsily filmed) fashion.
Hey, Night? Bite me.
Okay, let’s finish this piece of crap. Back to the mailroom. Cleveland is wondering, “Why would they lie to her about Tartutic? They cannot just be fairy tales they tell to make the narfs risk their lives.” What is that, the sixth fairy tale/bedtime story reference? Cleveland says, this has to be about faith. (Night’s pouring it on; he’s beyond begging the audience to give him the benefit of the doubt, now he’s ordering it). Our Heroes go back and forth with some lame dialogue trying to figure out who the interpreter really is, until Dury hits on it: it’s his son Joey. D’you remember Joey? The kid with the cereal box fetish? Well, it turns out that he sees meaning in the cereal boxes and can interpret what they are saying.
Read that last sentence. I swear I’m not making this up. You remember the young, bright director who had audiences on the edge of their seats watching a scared little boy whisper, “I see dead people”? He’s gone. He may be dead. I don’t know. But that man sure as hell wasn’t behind the camera or at the keyboard on this catastrophe.
Joey is able to (snicker) translate the cereal boxes, and he announces that the Guild is actually the five Hispanic daughters (d’you remember them? From the beginning?) plus Anna and (oh no) AKG, along with Mr. Bubchik (remember him?) and Mr. Leeds (so this Guild has one person whom I’d actually listen to). Cleveland hightails it to get these Guild members (and when he sees Mr. Leeds, yes, the TV is showing war footage on the news; Night can’t leave well enough alone), and they come without question.
Cut to a brief, cheesy shot of the scrunt (yeah, I’m getting tired and running out of smart-alecky things to call this guy), then we see the party moving indoors after it starts to rain. Again, that’s a hundred people crowding into one apartment. Shyamalan’s been criticized before for telling stories that fall apart if you think about them too long. Here, it shatters if your mind does any work at all.
Back to the mailroom. Uh oh, Cleveland may have assembled the right peeps for the Guild, but it still ain’t workin’. Story’s still in a coma. Mr. Bubchik states that this whole thing is absolutely nuts. I’m with ya, guy. Mr. Leeds erodes some of his credibility some, saying he wants to believe more than most: “I want to be like a child again.” I’m counting that as Bedtime Story reference #7. AKG shushes him down, then Joey says he made a mistake when (snicker) interpreting the cereal boxes (and he’s right: it’s Total, not Frosted Flakes, that gives 100% of the iron RDA). Seems the Healer ain’t a she. So Mrs. Bell isn’t the Healer (sorry, I forgot to mention her, but she’s been here ever since Story got scratched by the scrunt). Bum bum BUM! Mrs. Bell is able to put it together: Our Hero is the Healer. Whatever you say, movie, just get to the end. There’s yet another bedtime story reference (keep ’em coming, Night, maybe people will start to buy it around mention 12 or 13). Cleveland goes through the no-I-can’t-do-this bit and Mr. Leeds goes through the oh-yes you-can-get-on-that-horse bit. So the seven women lay hands on Cleveland (don’t ask) as he holds Story, asking him to say something to “bring out his energy.” Ah, yes, this is the scene where Cleveland releases all his bottled-up emotions and says a tearful good-bye to his family, telling them how much he loved them and how much he misses them. Paul Giamatti delivers this scene very well, I gotta admit. It’d be even better if Cleveland had been more reserved earlier, giving the impression he’d have to work to bring all that stuff out onto the surface. It would also be better if we hadn’t seen this emotions-come-bubbling-to-the-surface scene played out (at times almost identically, and in every case more effectively) in Signs, Forrest Gump, The Dead, The Mothman Prophecies, Schindler’s List, Star Trek II, Tender Mercies.... (Management: quite a diverse list, eh? Brad, I know you could name a dozen more, and maybe some of the readers could name a few your forgot, but wouldn’t you like to finish this review?)
That guy sounds downright reasonable tonight, doesn’t he. Must’ve taken his happy pill. (Management: no, I’m just a character you created, and you’ve had a long week and you’re tired.) Hey, someone tell Ken Begg that if I’m gonna play these double parts, I want more money. Wait, I ain’t gettin’ paid for this. Nebbermind.
Back to the movie (groan). Cleveland tearful farewell to his loved ones brings out the energy! Story awakes! The scratches that Greenie Meanie left on her legs heal up! (And Night, thank you for the leg shot.) Hooray! Or something.
They go back out to the pool, where the party has broken up, and it’s now raining. Vick/Night sits off, putting some distance between himself and the others. Story takes him aside and reveals that Anna will have seven kids, and he will live to see the first two. Keep this in mind; it gives direct evidence of how Shyamalan screwed things up from the start with this movie. I’ll go into (excruciating) detail in the Afterthoughts.
Meanwhile, (bum bum BUM) the Mass o’ Grass continues to skulk around the hallways, looking out to the pool area and seeing Our Heroes making their way to their positions. It was right around here that I realized, yes, Shyamalan will indeed throw us a twist, and I know exactly what it would be. We’ve come a loooong way down from The Sixth Sense.
CGI beastie breaks out, heads for the pool, and has a face-off with Cleveland and Story. They hold for a long moment trying to draw out the suspense, and then.... Oooooops, the poorly-designed animatronic (or CGI) thingy freezes! It ain’t attacking. Cleveland looks behind him and says for the audience, “Oh my God. He’s the Guardian!” Can you guess? C’mon, I know you can work it out.
And in this corner, ladies and gentlemen, weighing 130 pounds on his right side and 80 pounds on his left, it’s Reggie the Half Bodybuilder! Ah so! Reggie just so happened to be there (in a bit that screams Deus Ex Machina), and he continues his stare-down with Grassy Lassie. In the next shot, Reggie, rather than sitting and staring (like he was a s’posed to), has grabbed the pool net pole and teleported up close to Scooby-Doo Greengrass (no relation to Paul). He advances on our villain, and.... Hark! Look up in the sky! It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s.... Actually, it’s a bird! The Great Eatlon is coming!
Reggie is distracted for a second, and Mean-Green crouches, ready to pounce, but at long last, the Tartutic arrive. (And if Reggie’s entrance screamed Deus Ex Machina, this one is a Klaxon.) The Tartutic look like the ape-men from 2001 got together with Treebeard from Lord of the Rings and had a kid. The make-up job’s pretty good (and probably helped by the fact that the lighting here is quite dim), but not exactly original. They come flying in and get Medieval on the scrunt’s ass, dragging it away for what will surely be a horrible death, and disappearing into the woods, as Reggie watches in awe.
About here, I noticed that my earlier prediction was right. James Newton Howard’s score has been overly dramatic, but it’s a damn good cue here, much better than this movie deserves.
Cleveland embraces Story and says, “Thank you for saving my life.” Huh? We get a shot of Cleveland and Story from under the water. Story is carried off by the eagle, and the ripples in the water (1) do a nice job of hiding Cleveland’s expression, letting the audience decide on their own what his face shows, and (2) mask what might have been subpar visual effects. There is a series of shots of the apartment dwellers looking up in awe, and the music (accompanied by a children’s choir, natch) is admittedly quite beautiful. There’s a nice shot of the eagle soaring over Philadelphia, flying off, one assumes, to its Blue World. You can tell it’s CGI, but I liked the shot. The final shot is another look from under the water, hiding Cleveland’s expression as he looks up.
Well, they finally got something right. The final minute or so of this movie was exactly what it needed to be. It was majestic, it conveyed a sense of wonder, and it even threw in a nice touch of ambiguity. For those sixty seconds, one senses that Shyamalan actually respected his audience.
If the 102 minutes preceding it had done anything to deserve that ending, it would be truly moving. But as it stands, it’s much too little, much too late.
Sit through the credits, and there’s more badness to report. First off, M. Night Shyamalan’s name doesn’t appear in the main cast, and it appears seventh in the final crawl. Orson Welles showed the same false modesty with Citizen Kane, but then Welles made a good movie.
When the final crawl begins, the soundtrack plays a very heavy-handed cover of “The Times They Are A-Changin’,” complete with children’s choir on the chorus. Bro-ther!
In the final crawl, the cast lists four actors as the Tartutic. Waitaminute, I thought there were three of these wooden monkey whatsits.
After the credits are done, the following title appears: “To my daughters, I’ll tell you this story one more time. But then go to bed.” That’s bedtime story reference #8, I think. Of course, it’s no secret that Shyamalan based this movie on a story he told his daughters to get them to go to sleep, and that he really did make up the thing as he went along.
Someone should have told him there’s a vast difference between a sleepy four-year-old girl and an adult paying eight bucks to see a movie that has a PG-13 rating. Actually, it’s evident that someone did. He didn’t listen. |
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BradH812
Holy Cardinal and Five Star General of the Righteous Knighthood of Jabootu
USA
1294 Posts |
Posted - 05/10/2008 : 6:21:18 PM
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Afterthoughts
Man, where do I start?
Let’s get something out of the way first. Shyamalan is good with a camera, works well with James Newton Howard, and is more than competent with actors and with pacing. Also, from what I’ve read, he’s very good at bringing a movie in on time and on budget.* Yes, M. Night Shyamalan is a helluva director... when he keeps his ego in check. When he doesn’t....
*[Here’s one more thing I’ll give Shyamalan credit for: he seems to have the sense not to wear out his welcome. All of his films have come in at 100 to 105 minutes, minus credits. So at least he still has the sense not to make a three-hour movie just because he can. Right, Michael Bay?]
In Voices, it was stated that Shyamalan didn’t like improvisation, even during rehearsals. Understandable, to a point. But he jumped on Mary Beth Hurt for a small line change, and he also shut down Paul Giamatti trying to stammer on a different word that what was written. Not a good thing. Again, Shyamalan was in control, and one suspects that he had things battened down so tightly the actors didn’t have much room to breathe. Cindy Cheung’s performance as AKG is pretty bad, but one wonders if anyone could have done any better. While Shyamalan seemed to okay small (very very small) dialogue changes from more experienced actors like Giamatti and Choudhury, one suspects that if Cheung had asked to speak proper English and tone down her performance, Shyamalan would have rejected it out of hand.
The best evidence to support this argument is in the film itself. Anna. According to Voices, Anna was originally written as an annoying 25 year-old chatterbox; she was Vick’s younger sister. Shyamalan was impressed by Choudhury’s acting, and he changed the character to Vick’s older sister. But he made very few (or no) changes to her dialogue. Anna still speaks the words of a 25-year-old wannabee valley girl. Choudhury was 39 when this movie was made. To me, her image has always been earthy, sturdy, and pragmatic. Now, most competent directors, after casting her, would say, “We’ll need to tweak the dialogue, but that shouldn’t take too long. It’ll be worth it to have her in the cast.” Shyamalan didn’t. That becomes graphically clear at the end of the movie, when Story tells Vick/Night that Anna will have seven children. Now, if she was 25, no problem. I can buy a 25-year-old having a large family. But a 39-year-old with no children having seven kids?. Menopause is about ten years away, maybe a little longer. She’d have to squeeze out a puppy every eighteen months non-stop, if she started right now. This could have been fixed by changing one word. Have Story say that Anna will have three kids.
Shyamalan didn’t make any changes. Oooooooops.
Here, we see how Shyamalan's ego worked against him. Okay, Night likes to make sure that he has a finished script before even thinking about going into production (a good thing), and that he doesn’t care for improvisation (understandable). Any improv at all. (Not so understandable.) From what I’ve heard, most competent directors will give their actors a chance, if budget and time are okay, to try different things from time to time. While I will agree that improv dialogue usually doesn’t beat what’s on the page, consider this: the lines, “You’re gonna need a bigger boat,” “Hey I’m walkin’ here!” “I’ll be back,” “Attica! Attica!” and “You ain’t heard nothin’ yet” are all ad libs.
Just look back at the bit about not adjusting the dialogue to match Anna’s age with Sarita Choudhury to see how Shyamalan’s micro-managing screwed things up. When watching the film, you can see that Giamatti, Jeffrey Wright, Choudhury, and Balaban were trying to do a good job. I have no idea what kind of actress Cindy Cheung is; as stated, her performance is pretty bad, but I doubt anyone could overcome her terrible dialogue (and no doubt Shyamalan would not allow her to change a single word).
There are other little hints in the book about Shyamalan becoming frayed at the edges. He hired on Christopher Doyle as cinematographer. Doyle is described as a gifted cameraman... and a roaring, unrepentant — and highly unpredictable — drunk whose antics often threatened to slow things down. In hindsight, one would wonder why Shyamalan bothered. Lady is well shot, but it’s nothing that Shyamalan’s regular DP, Tak Fujimoto, couldn’t have done.
Then there are little stories about Shyamalan’s prima donna behavior. He insisted that the set be forty-five minutes or less from his home... and timed the trip (43 minutes). He hit the ceiling when Cindy Cheung, a relative newcomer, tried to jockey for a million-dollar salary for her part. While it was excessive, her part was pretty big. She ended up getting a hundred grand, not much more than the sixty-five grand union scale she was first offered.
Of course, the big story about our director’s ego getting the better of him is his break-up with Disney. Here, Voices seems to be a puff piece for Shyamalan, as it seems to share his view of (at that time) Disney exec Nina Jacobson. Jacobson had mentored Shyamalan during his early years and had a big part in getting him his start. But now, according to Night, she’d become too entrenched in the biz. The book shoots itself, and its subject, in the foot, however, when it notes that Shyamalan’s assistant is shocked and horrified to learn that when the script for Lady arrived on Jacobson’s desk, she put off reading it for a day because (the fiend!) she was taking her kid to a birthday party. Zounds!
Then comes the infamous dinner meeting. Shyamalan met with Jacobson and fellow Disney managers Dick Cook and Oren Aviv to discuss making Lady. The three execs didn’t like what they’d read. If the script had come from anyone else, they’d have thrown it out. Then Cook basically said, “You’ve been good for us in the past, so we’ll take a chance. Make it for $60 million or less, and get it in on time, and you can do whatever you want.”
Shyamalan all but gave them the finger, then he walked. If he’d bolted because he felt this was a foolish move on Disney’s part, I’d understand. But he left because they weren’t backing him enough. One can imagine Dick Cook looking at the returns Lady brought in, sighing with relief, and saying, “Never thought we’d be glad to lose him.”
Real smart, Night.
The film really has three major problems, and they all run its length.
First off is the whole “It’s a bedtime story” mantra. Shyamalan seems to be using it as an excuse: he can say whatever he wants, no matter how made-up it sounds, as long as he keeps reminding us it’s supposed to be a fairy tale. He seems to have forgotten that, again, movie audiences ain’t sleepy four-year-olds. Now, here’s the contract that the viewer and the filmmaker set up. The viewer promises to hang in for ten or fifteen minutes. The filmmaker will show the movie’s world, set the tone, make the rules, then will not break those rules later on without a damn good reason. The viewer will then let the filmmaker take us wherever he or she wishes. Here’s the filmmaker’s obligation (and listen carefully, Night): Make it worth our while! Don’t insult us!
Shyamalan really should have stuck with Disney. He could have gone over to Pixar to ask for tips on how to tell a modern-day fairy tale. They’ve got the technique down cold, as they’ve demonstrated again and again. Or maybe he thought he was above that.
Problem number two: casting himself as a visionary writer. (long pause) *shrug* Not much to say, is there.
The first problem could be written off as a one-time screw-up, a mistake that could be corrected. The second.... Not so much. But it's the third big gaffe where Shyamalan crosses the line. (A lot of people said that Shyamalan’s decision to cast himself was the move that put this movie over the top in terms of badness. Normally, I’d agree 100%, but this last bit goes so far that, to me, it’s even worse.)
While I’ll beat up on writers and/or directors when doing one of these things, I may be mean, and I may go too far, but I try to limit the criticism to what I see on screen. I won’t attack someone’s character unless I find the movie to be morally indefensible, or unless I have solid evidence that the person deserves a shellacking.
Night, consider yourself shellacked. Because it’s time (at long last, sorry for all the windbaggery) to get back to... that line.
Shall I repeat? Dury says (presumabely) of Farber, “What kind of person would be so arrogant to presume to know the intentions of another human being? Who put this young girl’s life in jeopardy?!”
One could write a book on this one line. Where to begin?
Well, the answer to Dury’s question is supposed to be Farber. Clearly. Obviously. In truth, though, it’s Cleveland who’s closer to fitting that damning question. We’re supposed to hate Farber for supposedly letting his ego steer Cleveland the wrong way, but let’s remember a few things:
1. Cleveland didn’t tell Farber why he wanted to know about story construction. For all Farber knew, Cleveland was working on a screenplay and wanted some free advice. He had no way of knowing what Cleveland was really looking for, because Cleveland chose to keep him in the dark.
2. After giving Cleveland his bit of dime-store advice, Farber complained in the same breath that Cleveland had woken him up. It was obvious he was just rattling off an answer to get rid of Cleveland.
3. The big thing is, everyone seems to know that Farber is a pretentious jerk from day one. Here, Shyamalan’s contempt for critics gets the better of him. Now, if you want to have a jerky film critic, no problem. But Night, you’re known for putting twists in your movies, so here’s a good time to throw us a curve. You can go one of two ways here, I think. First, you could have him be the jerk, then reveal that, hey, Farber could have a good bead on things. (Again, Shyamalan could’ve gone over to Pixar to see what they were working on. They had the “villain” of Ratatouille be a critic — then turned the critic into a sympathetic character at the end and had him give a better swing at critics in three minutes than Lady does in 103.)
The alternative is to have Farber seem to be a wise, sage advisor, someone who has the air of a good person to go to with problems. Then, at the end, you can reveal that Farber has no idea what he’s talking about; he’s a self-important hack. That could work. Again, Shyamalan should have waited a few months and checked out Tom Loughlin’s website. Ol’ Billy Jack’s attempt to play film critic would fit this part nicely (they could have taken Loughlin's review of The Departed verbatim to show what a clueless ass the guy is; of course, that’s speaking with hindsight).
Shyamalan couldn't let it go, though. He just had to show a critic as being an ass — and make it obvious from word one that he was an ass. This undermines Cleveland’s trust in him completely. Cleveland looks a right fool for even going to the guy, and even worse for listening to him.
Even that part of Farber’s character is blown. The whole idea is, Farber’s advice was supposed to be wrong. It wasn’t. His description of a group of people who seem to serve no other purpose in a story could fit either the Hispanic family or the Stoners. And his recommendations for an interpreter, while not spot on, were very close. Farber was right to be sure of himself. He didn’t give Cleveland bad advice; Cleveland simply interpreted it the wrong way. Later, when Dury questioned him, it was Cleveland who was much too sure of himself.
In short, it was Cleveland’s stupidity and stubbornness, not Farber’s arrogance, that put Story in harm’s way! (Let's throw Story into the blame game, too. Her advice was much worse than Farber's, unless you actually believe that a person "so full of hope that they can awaken the life force in all things" is a good description of mopey sad-eyed Cleveland.)
The film finds Farber guilty anyway, and it’s careful not to have Farber present to defend himself. No, it kills him off and calls it just desserts, after trying him in a kangaroo court. Why? Because Night Said So.
I’m not sure what’s more galling, the fact that Shyamalan was willing to judge a character so unfairly and demand the same from the audience, simply to give the finger to critics, or the fact that he doesn’t seem to care who knows what he’s doing. Voices was careful not to give too much mention of Farber (perhaps a hint that Bamberger had realized this would be a sticking point?), or to Shyamalan’s self-casting. It did, however, bring it up once or twice. When it did, it stated fairly clearly that Shyamalan knew he was going to catch hell for both aspects of his movie, but he decided to go with it anyway.
In other words, Shyamalan seems to have convinced himself he’s above the rules. He can do whatever he wants, and everyone owes him their support, just because he’s M. Night Shyamalan. I’m no psychologist, but this behavior is a near textbook-description of Narcissistic Personality Disorder. I know, I know, half of Hollywood is the same way. But we usually don’t see this blatant an example of how narcissistic (ain’t that a GREAT word?) people in La-La Land can be all that often.
Of course, Shyamalan was also getting in a pre-emptive strike. He could look at me right now and say I’m being an arrogant twit for “presuming to know the intentions of another human being” (along with professional poker players, psychologists, lawyers, detectives, etc.). Maybe I am. Okay, fine. You win, O Esteemed Director. Please enlighten us. Tell us, Manoj, please tell us, what the hell WERE your intentions?!
Lady in the Water cost about $70 million to make, and Warner Brothers put another $70 million into promotion. Its gross box-office worldwide was about $70 million (great if your movie is a $10 million affair, a nightmare here). It probably grossed another $20 mil in video sales. Figure up the net earnings from this, and it’s obvious: at best, Warner watched $90 million of their money go up in smoke. Shyamalan’s first loser at the box office wasn’t just a loser; it was a disaster.
Now, here’s where that comparison to Heaven’s Gate comes in. Lady came in on time and on budget, unlike Gate. So, while Warner crawled away licking their wounds, they weren’t humiliated into bankruptcy. Who knows how it would have gone down 28 years ago, but that’s the way it is today. So, that doesn't fit Gate's failure, but the following does.
Most of the cast and crew of Lady won’t get hurt. Certainly, veteran character actors like Giamatti, Balaban, Choudhury, and Wright will continue to work, looking back on this as a stumbling block, nothing more.
Two of the cast may get hurt a lot more. I can’t gauge Cindy Cheung’s ability as an actor from this film, but it certainly hasn’t helped her career. As of early May 2008, she has had one role since this movie: a small part in a Law and Order episode. Similarly, while Bryce Dallas Howard has gotten supporting roles in the last couple of years (most notably in Spider-Man 3, this may well have killed her chances of becoming a leading lady.
Note that I may look back on this in five years and eat my words. Same thing applies to what’s coming, but I doubt it.
The one who got hit hardest was Shyamalan, and to be frank, he deserved it. Critics hit back at him very hard, and they had plenty of ammo to use against him (the New York Post's description of him as "a crackpot with messianic delusions" was pretty typical). He’d already burned his bridges with Disney in public, I’ve seen a few reports that suggest that he’s just as arrogant in other places. Now, Hollywood (and the public) will put up with a guy being a jerk if he makes good movies, or at least if he can bring in the cash (witness James Cameron). But people don’t like a jerk who spends a hundred mil plus of other people’s money to shoot his own foot off.
The biggest criticism of Shyamalan is that he can direct, but he can’t write for crap. He had one or two good ideas, and that was it. My own recommendation for Night (and I’ve read that others say the same) would be as follows: go into survival mode. Now. Issue a “what was I THINKING?” type mea culpa. For your next movie, make a little drama or mystery. A brainy psychological thriller which uses atmosphere to good effect. Keep it down under $20 million. And keep your mitts off that word processor: hire a good writer. Show us you can do different things.
Whatever you do, do not try to write and direct a fantasy thriller with new age-y political overtones.
As I write this, it is May 10, 2008. Shyamalan’s next film, The Happening, will open in just over a month. Its budget is $57 million. Warner apparently has shown him the door. Shyamalan had to do some extensive re-writes to get Twentieth Century Fox to even consider backing it. They’re only going halfway; an Indian production company is footing the rest of the bill.
It’s a fantasy thriller with new age-y political overtones. Shyamalan’s the only name in the writing credits. The film poster is making a blatant attempt to use Signs and The Sixth Sense to promote it.
He hasn’t learned a damn thing. Is there any wonder why I slammed him so hard?
Of course, he could surprise us and make a movie that works. I could have egg all over my face in six weeks. But I’m not holding my breath.
If The Happening is another disaster, then I could only offer one bit of advice for Shyamalan: sock your money away, pal. Now. You have plenty of it, and it’s doubtful you’ll make any more.
M. Night Shyamalan could very well turn into this decade’s Michael Cimino, going from Hollywood golden boy to box office joke in a few years. He’d have no one to blame but himself. |
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Food
Holy Cardinal and Five Star General of the Righteous Knighthood of Jabootu
USA
342 Posts |
Posted - 05/12/2008 : 9:18:00 PM
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Excellent dissection, Brad! I haven't seen the movie, but it was a very fun read anyway.
I especially appreciate the shout-out. Now I've got an image in my head of a scarlet poop in the shape of Kali herself. :) |
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BradH812
Holy Cardinal and Five Star General of the Righteous Knighthood of Jabootu
USA
1294 Posts |
Posted - 05/12/2008 : 11:09:34 PM
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| That was just a wee TMI there, Food. But hey, I'll give a shout-out anytime. |
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Gristle McThornbody
Preeminent Apostolic Prelate of the Discipleship of Jabootu
Germany
186 Posts |
Posted - 05/13/2008 : 07:51:58 AM
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Well done, Brad. You hit the nail squarely on the head.
"Hi, I'm Bob Evil!" |
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Ericb
Holy Cardinal and Five Star General of the Righteous Knighthood of Jabootu
USA
648 Posts |
Posted - 06/13/2008 : 09:34:18 AM
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Great recap.
It looks like The Happening is going to be another disaster and I doubt it will do very well against The Incredible Hulk so it might be good night M. Night.
"I reserve the right to look as well as be boring." - Robert Fripp |
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Neville
Holy Cardinal and Five Star General of the Righteous Knighthood of Jabootu
Spain
1590 Posts |
Posted - 06/13/2008 : 12:43:26 PM
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I just saw The happening and, well, the best you can say about it is that it is better than this film.
Still, it's far from good, and almost in another universe than the stuff Shyamalan pulled off at his prime. |
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BradH812
Holy Cardinal and Five Star General of the Righteous Knighthood of Jabootu
USA
1294 Posts |
Posted - 06/13/2008 : 5:10:02 PM
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From what I've read, the reviews for The Happening ain't good. One can dismiss critics from time to time, especially when they smell blood early. What I can't dismiss is the movie's ad campaign. The selling point in all the TV ads is the same: M. Night Shyamalan's first R-rated movie. If that's the best they've got, forget it.
Night had better save his money. I suspect he won't be making much more as a director. |
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Sardu
Holy Cardinal and Five Star General of the Righteous Knighthood of Jabootu
1126 Posts |
Posted - 06/13/2008 : 8:31:08 PM
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Of course, Night pretty much declared open war on critics in the last Lady In The Water so it's quite possible most of them are relishing savaging of this picture. Still, I have to believe them when there's this kind of consensus, especially given his consistent decline from film to film.
"Meeting you makes me want to be a real noodle cook"
--Tampopo |
Edited by - Sardu on 06/13/2008 8:31:45 PM |
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Lady in the Water
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