Reviews

Stephen Soderbergh is one of those directors - make that 'auteurs' - 'cineastes' revere. (A 'cineaste' is a man or woman, but invariably a man, who is 'passionate' about films and filmmaking. That's all you need to know about 'cineastes'.) Drop the name Soderbergh into many a conversation and you leave your mark as a man or a woman, but invariably a man, who is a cut above the hoi polloi in matters film. Sodebergh is one of a small, elite group of 'auteurs' who could fart on film and be acclaimed as 'left-field', 'original', 'daring' where you and I would be sent away with a flea in our ear for doing the same thing.

I have by no means seen all of his films but I rather liked two - Sex, Lies And Videotapes, with which he made his name (on the strength of that film the saintly Roger Ebert described Soderbergh as 'the poster boy of the Sundance generation') and Side Effects, a more conventional film but an effective thriller. Unfortunately, Soderbergh's talents, for he undoubtedly has talent, often fail him and Ocean's Twelve is a case in point. (Incidentally, Soderbergh was either not aware what a self-indulgent hotch-potch of rubbish Ocean's Twelve became - which is unlikely - or he was but thought that given his reputation he could get away with it - for more likely.)

I haven't seen Ocean's Eleven, Soderbergh's remake of the Rat Pack film, which I understand was rather good, not least because the plotting was tight, though the rule of thumb is 'if you're going to remake a film, you'd better have a very good reason for doing so' and as far as I know Sodernergh didn't have one for remaking Ocean's Eleven. As for this sequel, loose, not to say abysmally awful, plotting is one of many failures which reduce Ocean's Twelve to such a worthless piece of rubbish that you wonder why it didn't go straight to video. Actually, given the 'name actors' involved, not least George Clooney, Julia Roberts and Brad Pitt, there was no way they could even contemplate allowing it to go straight to video. Elsewhere in these pages a civilian reviewer has remarked that in the round of TV interviews launched to plug this film when it was first released, the cast was reduced to insisting what a real hoot they all had making it - never, ever a good sign. In the reviewers words the producers realised what a turkey they had on their hands and were engaged in campaign of damage limitation.

The reason Ocean's Twelve was made is obvious: Ocean's Eleven made a shedload of money so the producers took to heart Sam Goldwyn's dictum 'if they liked it once, they'll love it twice' and decided to cash in. Well, they did - just (the budget was $110,000 million, it grossed £125,000 million - not a roaring success.)

So that of the film itself? Well, it gets of to a reasonable start and the first 20 minutes more or less pass muster, although this viewer is getting a little tired of the old Hollywood schtick of 'getting the old gang together again for one last job'. If I've seen it once, I've seen it 1.000 and it doesn't change a great deal. But then the doubts mount. I don't mind being baffled a little if I feel safe in the knowledge that there is an intelligence at play here which will draw all the strands together in an honest and coherent way. But on this occasion I didn't. On this occasion I got the feeling that the inconsistencies weren't clever plot devices but because at the end of the day the director just couldn't be arsed. Roll on to the finale and that suspicion is confirmed: Soderbergh had reduced himself to the status of jobbing director getting a slice of that promised shedload of money. I shan't give a spoiler but the whole script seems to have been written on the hoof and given that finale the previous hour or so make absolutely no sense whatsoever and are an insult to the viewer.

So, Stephen, a few arty camera angles - the shot of the plane arriving in Rome with the camera simply on its side is pure adolescence - and a pseudo cinema verite style of filming with the characters all talking at the same time with the camera behaving like a drunk at a party don't give you a get out of jail card: this is clunky filmmaking at its worst. My advice to all is: just don't bother.

What is it with Hollywood? Do the studio accountants have too much of a say in shaping the script? Are they all — even the ones with an undeniably high level of talent — so addicted to cliché that they are unable to let a script run true? Are they really only so concerned with satisfying the demands of the lowest common denominator and thus maximising box office sales that fundamental flaws which must be obvious to almost all those involved in a production are ignored? Here in The Siege we have production values of apparently the highest order, yet the sum of the parts most certainly doesn't add up to the whole. At the end of the day, and despite dealing with what superficially might be regarded as important 'issues', The Siege is nothing more than a cartoon presented in the style of a painting by some old master. The characters are two-dimensional and outlining their motivation — important I would have thought in that Bruce Willis as a gung-ho right-wing army general imposes martial law in half of New York — is utterly ignored. Story lines in the old Batman comics have been more plausible. At the heart of The Siege is a fascinating scenario: could the threat of terrorism on American soil ever really eventually lead to martial law being imposed in a city such as New York? And I should imagine that when the plot was first conceived and subsequently pitched to the suits, excitement at what this film might be was high. In the right hands with the right producer this had the potential to be an intelligent film. But then the corporate machine got involved and the whole thing was bent and mangled into shape to suit the supposed demands of Middle America's movie-going public, and out at the end of the sausage maker came a film which resembles any number of other pseudo-exciting, pseudo-intelligent films. What a shame, (tho it's a living for some.)

I came across Black Book after reading somewhere that after his post Robocop and Basic Instinct decline into absurdity, Black Book marked a glorious return to form for Paul Verhoeven, And needing a DVD to watch and coming across Black Book at £3 in an Asda (the UK's Wall-Mart) bargain bin, I thought 'why not?' Well, I should, perhaps, also have asked myself just what a movie - the most expensive Dutch movie ever made, no less - was doing languishing in the bargain bins less than 10 months after its release. I suspect you know where this is going. I had, in fact, only ever seen Robocop of Verhoeven's earlier films and had rather liked it's satirical touches, although on reflection it hadn't quite been the satire I had thought it to have been. Black Book made me ask myself: when we watch a movie, exactly what is it we want? Simple entertainment or something greater? Well, often, of course, it's simple entertainment. Despite all the 'auteurs' and the 'homage' we 'serious' film fans are supposed to pay 'auteurs', there also has to be time out when we can set aside the quest to investigate the human condition for an hour or two, grab the popcorn and settle down to watch a little undemanding nonsense. And why not? Yet when a movie chooses to deal with what was one of the most shocking and tragic periods of recent European history and which, furthermore, directly acknowledges the most horrific aspect of that time, the wholesale slaughter of millions of Jews, quite apart from also touching upon such ultra-sensitive areas as the degree and methods of the Dutch resistance and the collaboration of other Dutch with the Nazis, including the betrayal of fellow citizens for venal gain, it is surely fair to expect that movie to rise a little above the status and ambitions of 'undemanding nonsense'. But, to his shame, Paul Verhoeven never even tries to. He is quite content to churn out a large-scale potboiler, and one, furthermore, whose script is surprisingly lazily put together for a movie with this kind of budget and apparent aims. It would be tedious and boring for both you, the reader, and me, the writer, to list the script's many, many flaws and inconsistencies. I'll simply remark that Verhoeven and his co-writer were not in the slightest concerned with producing a truthful and honest tale. All they wanted to do was to make sure 'the action' roared ahead at breakneck speed and that you and I were given no opportunity at all to question the plot's many twists and turns. So: if 'undemanding nonsense' is your thing, packaged with a spurious mystery and a little, tho' not much, trademark Verhoeven soft porn, this is the film for you, available at your nearest supermarket bargain bin. If, given Black Book's painful and tragic subject matter, you want a movie which takes both you and itself seriously, forget it.

Well, I've just seen the DVD — I bought it on eBay after watching McCabe & Mrs Miller and being a longstanding fan of Nashville — and I read several reviews here, but I can't quite join the parade. In the Seventies, I imagine, this was something else — all of one with the revisionist iconographic spirit of the age, and thus a surefire winner. (We were all hip then). More than 20 years on, it is still far more entertaining than many another 'great film from the Seventies' — and I know you her it coming — but . . . You see style over substance is not usually associated with the Seventies in that the Seventies as a matter of course chose to make up in excess what it lacked in style. But there is actually rather less to Altman's The Long Goodbye than meets the eye. Outstanding are Mark Rydell as Marti Augustine and the song The Long Goodbye in its many incarnations (great idea that). Less enthralling for this viewer was Gould's endless hip mumbling. I got pretty sick of it pretty fast, but there was no let-up. I was also rather less enthralled by the lack of a plot. Or rather a plot which was n't really there and when it did take shape dissolved far too quickly in your mouth rather as candy-floss does (or as you say in the US 'cotton candy'). Now there's a complaint: we watch a film by a director renown for his style yet complain that there is too much style at the expense of meat. Well, I. I'm sorry but I do. Too many loose ends. Too much taking the viewer for granted. And that rather dates the film. Now this is 2006 and perhaps in 2026 this film will be re-evaluated and my comments might seem carping. It all depends on what film you want and how you want your films. As I say, two and a half cheers. Looks good, holds your interest, but then, like cotton candy — sorry...

This is something of a departure for British TV (being rather less in the clover than TV moguls Stateside) because the productions values are VERY high for UK homegrown produce. I imagine they are hoping (or were hoping) to sell it in the U.S. too. Whatever, it has set the yardstick high and so has set itself a lot to live up to. Will it do it. I have a sneaky suspicion it might (even though much of the excitement is just down to fancy editing). Somewhart trendy in its choice of subject matter, but then these days that"s the name of the game. But as I say, if they carry it off they carry it off. If they don't — well memories are short. So either way it's a sure bet.

In Gilliam's Brothers Grimm is a good movie struggling to get out. It never makes it. Although the overall look of the film is consistent, this has the feel of several different movies being strung together. It's not funny, it's not scary, it's not intriguing, it's rarely entertaining and it's full of loose ends. Watching it with my son, six, and daughter, nine — I am 56 — I kept having to ask them what was going. They seemed to know but I was, at times, baffled. We were taken down so many highways and byways which led nowhere that it was more like going on a less than magical mystery tour. Perhaps that's my stupidity. Perhaps not. Matt Damon and Heath Ledger do tolerably well given that both are cast against type, the sets are great, Jonathan Pryce and Peter Stomare simply seem to be content with enjoying themselves and to hell with the audience. There's no coherent plot, the romantic interest is vastly undercooked and the film can't make up its mind what it wants to be. We Watched on DVD and also looked at the special feature on the making off the film. Apart from the usual Hollywood mutual schmoozing about how great it was to work with the other actors (when will someone publicly say "I hated the creep'? Never, of course, or at the very end of a career), I was amazed at the amount of computer-generation this film made use of. To what end, you ask, if the storyline is so hopelessly flimsy? I understand that Gilliam had his usual problems with The Suits, but on this offering, I'm inclined to feel more sympathy for The Suits. The Brothers Grimm is by no means all bad, it just isn't very good, either. There are references to some of the real Grimm fairy tales, but these never make sense, or, at least, internal sense. They are simply tacked on. I feel a jerk for criticizing Gilliam, because Hollywood and the film worked needs some mavericks such as him. But we also need films which we enjoy for themselves, not ones we give a sympathy vote to. I could imagine a Czech or Italian filmmaker making a far better first of this. As I say there is a good film in there somewhere, but you just get bored trying to track it down.

Within 20 minutes of Rat Race starting, you realise this is simply a rip-off of It's A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World — same premise, same manic situations in which a disparate collection race each other to lay claim to the prize, in this case $1 million. Admittedly, it's been many years since I watched the Mad, but I seem to remember the wacky situations the hunters found themselves weren't half as contrived, and so twice as funny. Rat Race has 'screenwriters had a hoot writing this one' written all over it. But the laughs don't really translate to the screen. There are one or two quite good jokes — a stereotypical Jewish family visit the Barbie Museum at daughter's insistence, only to find it is a museum in memory of that nasty Nazi Klaus Barbie and later take off in Hitler's limo. It's a gag only producers called Zucker could get away with, and to say it was contrived is being kind. But it was reasonably funny, as was the conceit that some people will bet on anything, even the price a hooker will charge for very outlandish services. Shame there were not more jokes like that, however much they are in bad taste. The rest of the film is though short on laughs unless you're desperate. (A coachload of Lucille Ball lookalikes heading for an I Love Lucy convention must have looked hilarious on paper, but never caught fire on screen.) The finale was puke-making. And I can't even be bothered to give it away.

Nineteen years after JFK was killed (by whom?) and five years after Watergate, this one puts the whole conspiracy theory industry in its place. One of the funniest films I have seen for a very long time - anyone who still thinks that Americans don't do irony (always a stupid claim but one which is made time and again) should see this. But it's bone-dry and very subtle, and I can understand how many people were puzzled and bemused by this when it was first released and that it did not do well commercially. Performances are universally excellent, tho' Jeff Bridge as the starry-eyed son trying to discover who killed his half-brother, the US president, and John Hustion as the paterfamilias and caricature mega capitalist are treat. The plot is nonsensical, but then that is the whole point of a film which sends up conspiracy films something rotten and then some. Buy the video, because this really does bear watching again and again.

The production values are high, courtesy of computer graphics, but there are one or two flaws which do nag. First, the computer effects themselves give the texture of the film a certain muddy, unreal quality. It is difficult to put your finger on it, but there is something artificial about the look of the film which cannot be ignored.

Second, there is a huge hole in the narrative which makes you wonder: our friend Maximus arrives back home, finds his family murdered and homestead burnt down, is taken by slave traders (who came from where? Where is the home? The suggestion was that it was somewhere in Southern Europe - Spain possibly - rather than North Africa), transported to North Africa/Asia, trained as a gladiator etc.

This whole process would surely take many months if not a year or two. But at the end of Maximus' training - of at least a year if not more - young Commodus arrives back from murdering his dad. What's he been doing those past two years? Surely not hanging around somewhere as deeply unattractive, not to say rough and ready, as Germany? The whole timeline is even more unconvincing in that Maximus seems to manage to get from his would-be execution in Germany to Spain in about a week and a half. This might not seem important to some, but basic flaws like that make you wonder whether this is just, at best, supercharged schlock with added computer tricks.

Given that the US market is so much bigger and thus the financial rewards are so much greater, Hollywood has far greater resources for producing films. So it is a shame that it cannot produce far better films than this. Forget the gaping holes in a plot which seems to have been cobbled together by the cast-offs of the B team and the melodramatic direction and you have a visually sumptuous looking movie with high production values. So why waste all the talent which has gone into making this film on dumb garbage? Dean Stockwell hams it up opposite a wannabe Harrison Ford in a story the makes absolutely no sense with the now obligatory intelligent and humane black character to satisfy the PCs. I have better things to do with my time.