Showing posts with label Jeff Bridges. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jeff Bridges. Show all posts

Monday, February 05, 2018

The Need to Know



"To me, to kill is not the worst thing you can imagine. There is more."

Barney (Jeff Bridges)

I have never seen the original version of "The Vanishing" that premiered in 1988. I have only seen the remake that was released on this day five years later — and when I saw it, I had no idea it was a remake.

I have heard the remake was thoroughly inferior to the original — which doesn't surprise me since I have yet to see a remake of any movie that I thought was an improvement on the original.

(Speaking of the original, film critic Roger Ebert wrote that it was "one of the most intelligent thrillers I've seen.")

Nothing that I have read suggests that the '93 remake of "The Vanishing" was an exception to that rule — but since I had nothing to compare, I thought it was OK. Not the best thriller I have ever seen but certainly not the worst.

It isn't uncommon for movies to be remade, of course, but "The Vanishing" was an odd exception to the rule. Normally, a remake is done by a different director, but the same man — George Sluizer — directed both.

Weird, huh?

Apparently, the primary sticking point between the two is that the original, which was primarily shown in Europe, was uncompromising in its conclusion whereas the remake seems to have been watered down to suit American audiences' preference for happy endings.

I still haven't seen the original, although I would like to, but I have read comparisons of the movies, and I have concluded that, while I liked the acting in the version I saw, I almost certainly would prefer the original movie. That isn't surprising, either, given that the remake starred Jeff Bridges and Kiefer Sutherland, two actors whose work I admire. It co–starred Sandra Bullock and Nancy Travis. To be candid, I have long believed that Bullock is overrated, but I do like Travis' work.

Bridges played Barney, a chemistry teacher who was obsessed with the concept of free will. He was endlessly plotting to abduct and kill someone, and he conducted numerous trial runs, which always failed.

More than anything it was an intellectual pursuit, a kind of mind game. His character was driven by a memory from his childhood — when he had leaped from a balcony and injured himself. At the time, he knew that most people do not do certain things because that is how they have been conditioned, but he reasoned that there was nothing more than that to keep them from doing those things.

In other words, it was still a matter of free will, even if choosing to do something was sure to lead to an unpleasant outcome like injury or death.

The act of killing another human being, therefore, was also a matter of free will.

Then one day an opportunity just fell into his lap. Jeff (Sutherland) and Diane (Bullock), a young couple on vacation, stopped at an all–purpose roadside convenience store/gas station. Diane went in to get some cold drinks — and was never seen again.

The audience knew what had happened, of course, but Sutherland did not, and that began his personal quest to find out. It grew into an obsession that Bridges' character would one day use against him.

The audience knew that Bridges had seen the "missing" posters that Sutherland's character kept putting up around town and even expressed his admiration for Sutherland's persistence.

Ultimately he was moved to seek out Sutherland and confess that "I am the man you're looking for." He said Sutherland could learn what had happened to his girlfriend, but Bridges warned Sutherland that he would have to be willing to go through precisely what his girlfriend had gone through in order to learn what he sought.

Jeff balked at that.

"You don't care if she is alive or dead anymore," Barney asserted.

"Yes, I do," Jeff insisted.

"No, you don't," Barney replied. "You're just scared that without the search you won't know who you are. Who is Jeff Harriman if he's not the guy looking for Diane? Can you really walk away from finally knowing the answer?"

After serious deliberation, Sutherland decided he had to know what had happened — which proved the truth of what Bridges' character had told him. "Your obsession is my weapon."

I'll leave it at that — except to note a few other things.

Travis' role was an interesting one — and a big part of the reason why I would like to see the original version of the movie. Travis played Sutherland's new girlfriend.

"In the earlier film, he takes a new girlfriend, who finally leaves him because she cannot compete with the memory of the vanished woman," Ebert wrote. "In this version, his new girlfriend sticks around because she'll be needed for the ending."

Ebert's position was that the first movie made sense because it remained true to its original premise however ugly it became. The compromised conclusion made a lot of changes necessary in the remake that veered from that premise, resulting in a movie that was, in Ebert's eyes, "laughable, stupid and crude."

"The first movie was existential in its merciless unfolding," Ebert wrote. "This one turns into a slasher movie with a cheap joke at the end."

Now I am willing to concede — without even having seen both movies — that the first version was probably superior to the remake. That isn't much of a stretch for me, really. If you read back over this blog, you will find many times when I have spoken disparagingly of remakes, and I am sure this remake is no exception — although to make such a judgment it really is necessary to see both movies, isn't it?

No, I do not doubt that the original was better — and I hope to see the original someday — but I really don't see how the role of the villain could be played better than it was by Jeff Bridges, who sent a series of chills down my spine simply because he was so clinical in his approach to taking another life. It was the same to him as an experiment in one of his chemistry classes.

Bridges was very effective, even managing to be sympathetic at first. For awhile I kind of liked the guy — even though I knew that, ultimately, he would be the bad guy, which he was.

A creepier villain has seldom been seen in the movies.

Sunday, December 14, 2014

Responding to an Invitation to Come and Visit Sometime



Starman (Jeff Bridges): Dutch apple pie with whipped cream. It's wonderful.

Jenny (Karen Allen): For a primitive species we have our points.

Voyager 2 was a space probe that was launched in 1977 to explore the solar system. It was actually launched before Voyager 1, but Voyager 2 moves slower and was passed by Voyager 1.

It is an extended mission that has been going on now for more than 37 years.

Each Voyager carried with it a gold–plated audio–visual disc. The idea was that, if the probe was found by an intelligent life form somewhere, that life form could see images and hear voice recordings and music from earth on that disc.

That, essentially, was the starting point of John Carpenter's "Starman," a movie starring Jeff Bridges and Karen Allen that made its debut 30 years ago today.

Unfortunately, "Starman" was largely overlooked when it was showing on the big screen. It cost $24 million to make and took in less than $29 million at the box office, which wasn't really in the same ballpark with the top–grossing films of 1985. That really is too bad because I thought it was a literate, clever and thoroughly plausible story.

Bridges was Starman, one of those intelligent life forms I was talking about. Someone from his civilization came across the probe, found the disc and heard a clear invitation for visitors to come to earth in peace. Apparently, it was decided to send a probe to earth, on which Starman (in whatever form he took — initially, he just appeared to be a blue ball) was riding, acting as some kind of advance scout.

"He, or it, has traveled to Earth in response to the invitation from Voyager," film critic Roger Ebert wrote, "but of course the Air Force treats the spacecraft as a possible invader and shoots missiles at it." Starman's vessel crashed in Wisconsin, near the home of Jenny Hayden (Karen Allen), a young widow.

He made his way to her home, where she had been drinking and reminiscing about her late husband before passing out. While she slept, Starman the blue ball entered the home and found all the mementos she had spread out in the living room, including a lock of her husband's hair.

Starman used the hair to clone a body for himself, then he used one of several smaller balls he carried with him (each of which seemed to have the power to do remarkable things) to contact his people. He informed them that his vessel had crashed and the terrain was hostile. He arranged to rendezvous with his people at a landing site in Arizona in three days' time.

Jenny had been awakened, and she witnessed him transmitting his message.

Starman managed to coerce Jenny into taking him to Arizona. At first, she tried to figure out ways to be stopped — or to get away from the Starman. But, at the same time, she was mesmerized. He looked so much like Scott — and he sounded like Scott.

She was torn.

After Jenny saw him revive a dead deer with another of his small balls, the movie became something of a bonding experience between the two. Starman had a rudimentary knowledge of English from the disc, and he learned how to communicate more effectively in the language.

Jenny taught him that humans weren't as uniformly primitive as he first believed.

However, one of humanity's more savage elements, the U.S. Army, was pursuing them with the intention of having a vivisectionist slice up the alien. A scientist from SETI (Charles Martin Smith) was with them, and he played an important role in allowing Starman and Jenny to escape.

Before he did so, he had some questions for Starman.

"Have people from your world been here before?" he wanted to know.

"Before, yes," Starman replied. "We are interested in your species."

"You mean you're some kind of anthropologist?" the scientist asked. "Is that what you're doing here? Just checking us out?"

"You are a strange species," Starman said. "Not like any other. And you'd be surprised how many there are. Intelligent but savage. Shall I tell you what I find beautiful about you?"

The scientist nodded, and then Starman delivered perhaps the best line of the movie.

"You are at your very best when things are worst."

I thought Bridges had another great line when, as he and Jenny were riding in a railroad boxcar, she asked him to describe the planet from which he came.

"It is beautiful," he replied. "Not like this, but it is beautiful. There is only one language, one law, one people. There is no war, no hunger. The strong do not victimize the helpless. We are very civilized, but we have lost something, I think. You are all so much alive, all so different."

And that really is humanity's great conundrum, isn't it? Well, it's one of them. We like to say that we value diversity, but humans are naturally suspicious of those who are different from themselves in some way. I guess it is a defense mechanism, honed by centuries of evolution.

Many people do not want to be like that and honestly despise that trait in themselves, but it remains a part of human nature — an ugly part, yes, but a part, nonetheless.

In his preparation to play Starman, I've heard that Bridges studied birds and their movements. His reasoning was that an alien would not have human characteristics and, finding himself in a human body, would act with animal instincts. I thought it was effective — and explained many things I did not know before I saw the movie.

It was effective enough that Bridges received an Oscar nomination, but he lost to F. Murray Abraham ("Amadeus"). It was the movie's only Oscar nomination.

Sunday, December 25, 2011

The Morning After the Night Before



Jane Fonda has always been something of an enigma for me.

For example, she has been an often passionate advocate and defender of women yet she has not hesitated to lend her name (if not more) to projects like "Barbarella" that brazenly exploited women — when she wasn't exploiting, for personal profit, the desire that most of them have to be young and beautiful even after they have ceased to be either.

Most of the time, I guess, I just never thought she was terribly original — unlike her father. Even when she made what were said to be groundbreaking films, I always seemed to have the sensation that I had seen it done before — and better — by someone else.

When I first saw "The Morning After" — which premiered 25 years ago today — my first thought was that I must have walked into the wrong viewing room, that I was seeing some sort of parody of "The Godfather."

Do you remember the scene in "The Godfather" in which the movie director woke up in bed with the head of his beloved horse — and in a pool of the animal's blood? That's how "The Morning After" began — with Fonda (playing an alcoholic actress) waking up in bed with a man — and no memory of how she got there or what had happened when she did.

Then, when she withdrew one of her hands from beneath the sheets, she found it was covered in blood. She then discovered that her bedmate was dead with a knife sticking in his back.

She couldn't be sure whether she was responsible for the death or not, but she set about to thoroughly clean the apartment and rid it of any trace that she had been there — quite a task considering that she could not remember what she may have touched the night before.

(It occurred to me many years later that the story would require a drastic rewriting after the development of DNA evidence gathering and analysis. It was a nascent technology in the mid–1980s, but its forensic application changed things.)

In spite of her best (and rather frenzied) efforts, the evidence incriminating her began to pile up. But she was determined to prove that she was not guilty, and she enlisted the help of Jeff Bridges (a bigoted ex–cop).

As I observed when Lumet died earlier this year, he wasn't given to relying on splashy special effects — and "The Morning After" was a good example. His style was more psychological than that — reminiscent of Hitchcock in the way that the camera sort of nonchalantly nudged the viewer's attention in the direction of things that the characters in the film didn't see.

But eventually everything — like the pieces in a jigsaw puzzle — came together for all to see, even the characters in the movie.

It was clear that the characters of both Fonda and Bridges were deeply flawed. At times, Fonda reminded me of Ingrid Bergman in "Gaslight," uncertain of what was true and what was fantasy, not sure if she could trust her own memories and observations.

Bridges' character was harder for me to pin down. In spite of his bigotry, he had a clear sense of right and wrong — and he would stand on the side he had concluded was right, even if that meant standing alone.

He wasn't so different from other characters I had admired in Lumet's movies — Henry Fonda in "12 Angry Men," Dan O'Herlihy in "Fail–Safe," Bill Holden in "Network." All were flawed in their own ways.

Bridges' tenacity contributed to a somewhat surprising conclusion — and less surprising (as far as I was concerned) complications with Fonda's character. And, to be fair, the movie did generate more suspense than I expected.

In the realm of her suspense thriller flicks, I prefer Fonda's Oscar–winning turn in "Klute" — but "The Morning After" came close to matching that. Fonda was nominated for an Oscar, but she lost to Marlee Matlin.