Showing posts with label Tim Robbins. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tim Robbins. Show all posts

Monday, June 29, 2015

Waging a War of the Worlds



"Don't you get it? We're under attack!"

Ray (Tom Cruise)

Steven Spielberg's movie version of H.G. Wells' "War of the Worlds," which was in theaters 10 years ago today, wasn't a bad movie, but, as film critic Roger Ebert observed, it was disappointing — mainly because, on the surface at least, it seemed to have all the necessary elements to make a genuine summer blockbuster.

In hindsight, the 1953 version was better — even if it didn't have the benefit of 21st–century special effects (although it did pretty well with what it had, winning an Oscar — half a century later, the remake was nominated for Oscars for sound mixing, sound editing and visual effects but didn't win any).

I saw that 1953 version once many years ago; while its effects probably do seem primitive to modern viewers and it is often summarized as a "loose adaptation" of Wells' book, it was probably a better adaptation of that book than the film that was in the theaters in 2005.

I don't know why it turned out the way it did. Spielberg has always had something of a flair for stories with an other–worldly bent, but this one simply wasn't as satisfying as his other movies.

Ebert picked up on that, too. He called it "a big, clunky movie containing some sensational sights but lacking the zest and joyous energy we expect from Steven Spielberg. ... What happened to the sense of wonder Spielberg celebrated in 'Close Encounters of the Third Kind' and the dazzling imagination of 'Minority Report'?"

And I agree that it was clunky — mainly because it lacked that "zest and joyous energy" to which Ebert referred. That is really the secret to Spielberg's phenomenal success — and the key to understanding his failures. Oh, sure, he's pretty good with special effects, too, but that is because he makes them so realistic that, even if the premise of the movie is preposterous, the viewer really does believe it could happen. When that is done as well as Spielberg has tended to do it, that is the real magic of the movies.

With "War of the Worlds," though, I never crossed that threshold. I never believed that what I was seeing on the screen really could come to pass. It was an entertaining movie, but I never got swept into Spielberg's world — or, at least, the world he wanted us to occupy for a couple of hours. Unlike the vast majority of my experiences with Spielberg's movies, there was never a time while I was sitting in the theater watching "War of the Worlds" when I was not aware of the fact that I was watching a movie.

Now, I'm not going to say the movie was a total loss. It did have its redeeming qualities — even if it wasn't Spielberg's best.

It was a surprise to me that Tim Robbins had a role in the movie. I hadn't heard he was in it so it really caught me by surprise. He was almost unrecognizable as a survivalist at first — especially to eyes (like mine) that expected to see the young Tim Robbins of about 25 years earlier (as you can probably guess, it's been awhile since I went to movie theaters very much). Once I realized who I was seeing, I was able to concentrate on the story.

And I thought he was good. Not Oscar–worthy good, but good.

Even though the movie was probably in the theaters when Tom Cruise was still regarded as one of the most bankable names in Hollywood, I thought the real shining star of the movie was young Dakota Fanning, already a veteran of more than a dozen movies at the tender age of 11. The Las Vegas Film Critics Society gave her its Youth in Film award for her performance, and she was nominated for Best International Actress by the Irish Film & Television Academy — but lost to Gillian Anderson.

Personally, I don't think it was the best performance I've seen Fanning give. I thought she did well in the role of Cruise's daughter, but I was more impressed with her performance as Sean Penn's daughter in "I Am Sam" in 2001. She played a different kind of role in "War of the Worlds," though, one that seemed to confirm her all–around talent, and, I must admit, I expected big things from her after I saw it.

She's made about two dozen movies in the last decade, I suppose, which makes for a formidable body of work for a 21–year–old actress, and she has received a boatload of award nominations (and she has even won some of those awards), but she's never received an Oscar nomination. When she clears that hurdle, win or lose, I will feel she has lived up to her potential.

Ebert didn't have much to say about Fanning, except to lament "scenes in which [she] has to be lost or menaced, and then scenes in which she is found or saved, all with much desperate shouting." Mostly, he seemed to say, it was much ado about nothing.

Ebert didn't like the tripod invaders in a 21st–century setting. "I do not like the way they look," he wrote, "the way they are employed, the way they attack, the way they are vulnerable or the reasons they are here."

Fair enough. His beef really had little to do with the acting. His assessment — and mine as well — was that Cruise, as the hero, was tolerable in his role. After I had seen the movie, I really had no complaints about the acting, either, but I felt vaguely unsettled about what I had seen — an atypical response to a Spielberg movie.

Earlier in his review, Ebert wrote, "You look at Spielberg's machines, and you don't get much worked up, because you're seeing not alien menace but clumsy retro design. Perhaps it would have been a good idea to set the movie in 1898, at the time of Wells' novel, when the tripods represented a state–of–the–art alien invasion."

Food for thought for whoever chooses to make the next adaptation of Wells' tale.

Saturday, June 15, 2013

Worshipping in the Church of Baseball



"I believe in the Church of Baseball. I've tried all the major religions and most of the minor ones. I've worshipped Buddha, Allah, Brahma, Vishnu, Siva, trees, mushrooms and Isadora Duncan. I know things. For instance, there are 108 beads in a Catholic rosary, and there are 108 stitches in a baseball. When I learned that, I gave Jesus a chance. But it just didn't work out between us. The Lord laid too much guilt on me. I prefer metaphysics to theology."

Annie (Susan Sarandon)

It's been 25 years since "Bull Durham" premiered in America's theaters, but I can still remember when I first saw it.

I was working at the Arkansas Gazette on the sports copy desk, which required me to work nights and weekends. I had been doing that for nearly 4½ years, and at this time in 1988, I was making plans to move to Texas to pursue my master's degree.

In hindsight, it wasn't the best time to be starting a new relationship. Nevertheless, that is what I was doing.

On one of my nights off, I took a girl named Mary to see "Bull Durham" at a theater in Little Rock. She had seen it before, but she didn't mind seeing it again. She liked it. I hadn't seen it.

It was a delightful movie. The sports genre is rather crowded, but "Bull Durham" brought a fresh quality to its subject, perhaps because it managed to combine sports, drama/romance and comedy almost seamlessly.

Mary was already a baseball fan — the topic accounted for the vast majority of our conversation on our first date — but even if she had no interest in the sport, I think the drama/romance and comedy would have kept her interested in the movie.

The love story part was pretty easy to grasp (and, I must say, Mary was a sucker for a love story). Veteran catcher Crash Davis (Kevin Costner) and young hotshot pitcher Nuke LaLoosh (Tim Robbins) were vying for the affections of Annie, the team's groupie who made a habit of picking one player each season as her personal project. I always thought it was interesting that the on–screen fireworks were strongest between Sarandon and Costner — but, off screen, it was Sarandon and Robbins who had a long–term relationship.

Actually, I suppose, the movie was really about life and love and relationships. It just happened to be set against a sports backdrop. Personally, I found it to be a rather routine kind of love story — albeit with better writing than most — but, like any story, it needed a good hook, and sports provided the hook.

In spite of some marketers' attempts to present it in a different light, "Bull Durham" wasn't really a sports movie. That was a shortcoming that some moviegoers may have found unforgivable. It didn't really bother me at the time because I understood what it was.

Still, it helped to have some knowledge of the game in order to fully appreciate the often–crackling byplay between Crash and Nuke. As any baseball fan will tell you, pitchers and catchers often hold brief conferences on the pitcher's mound, usually to discuss strategy. But the mound conferences in "Bull Durham" were a little different.

Like when Crash and Nuke met on the mound to discuss Nuke's burning desire to "bring the heater" — i.e., throw a fastball. Crash, who had been signed to tutor Nuke, resented his attitude — and told the opposing batter to expect a fastball. The batter, of course, crushed it.

When they met on the mound while the batter was rounding the bases, Nuke muttered in wonder, "That sucker teed off on that like he knew I was gonna throw a fastball!"

"He did," Crash replied.

"How?" wondered a bewildered Nuke.

"I told him," Crash confided to Nuke.

Another time, after Crash told a batter what to expect and the batter drilled the ball over the fence to ruin Nuke's shutout, Crash remarked, "Anything that travels that far ought to have a damn stewardess on it."

But the funniest mound conference probably came when virtually the entire lineup was gathered at the mound, each player with his own crisis to resolve. Nuke thought his eyelids were jammed, one player wanted a live rooster to take the curse off his glove, and no one knew what to give a teammate for his upcoming wedding.

"We're dealing with a lot of shit," Crash told the assistant coach ...

Who replied, "Well, candlesticks always make a nice gift, and maybe you could find out where she's registered and maybe a place setting or maybe a silverware pattern."

I'm quite sure that mound conferences aren't like that in the majors, but in the minors, who knows?