Showing posts with label Renee Zellweger. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Renee Zellweger. Show all posts

Monday, April 04, 2016

Keeping Up With Miss Jones



"It is a truth universally acknowledged that, when one part of your life starts going OK, another falls spectacularly to pieces."

Bridget Jones (Renee Zellweger)

For some reason the late '90s and the early 2000s were prime years for TV shows and movies about the trials and tribulations of young single women.

Well, perhaps it wasn't quite as extreme as all that, but it is true that, from Calista Flockhart in Ally McBeal to Renee Zellweger in "Bridget Jones's Diary," young single women were hot properties during those years.

Speaking of "Bridget Jones's Diary," which premiered in the United Kingdom (where the story was set) on this day in 2001, film critic Roger Ebert apparently read the book upon which the movie was based. "Glory be, they didn't muck it up," he wrote in his review.

I never read the book, but based on what I saw in the movie, it must have been a fun read.

"As in the book, Bridget arrives at her 32nd birthday determined to take control of her life," wrote Ebert, "which until now has consisted of smoking too much, drinking too much, eating too much and not finding the right man, or indeed much of any man."

That sounds like a recipe for a pretty endearing character — a clearly flawed character but, nevertheless, charmingly so. And, to be honest, Zellweger was perfect for the part. She has such a captivating personality.

And, based on Ebert's description of the Bridget Jones of the book — "a heroine both lovable and human" — I don't have to read it to presume that Zellweger was ideal for the role. I'd like to read it, though. As I said earlier, it sounds like a fun read. Maybe I will read it this summer.

"Zellweger's Bridget is a reminder of the first time we became really aware of her in a movie," wrote Ebert, "in 'Jerry Maguire,' where she was so cute and vulnerable we wanted to tickle and console her at the same time."

Ebert went on to observe that "[a] story like this can't work unless we feel unconditional affection for the heroine, and casting Zellweger achieves that." I agree.

One of my favorite moments in the movie was when Bridget said she felt like a "screen goddess in manner of Grace Kelly" — just before her Kellyesque scarf blew off as she was riding in a convertible — "though perhaps ever so slightly less elegant under pressure."

The rest of the casting seemed pretty solid as well. Hugh Grant is not my favorite actor, but he was the right choice to play Bridget's pompous boss Daniel, who embodied all of the personality quirks that Bridget made a point of stressing in her diary that she wanted to avoid in future relationships.

Bridget worked at a book publishing company, by the way.

I had more of a lukewarm response to Colin Firth, who played an interesting role. He and Bridget had been children together — and he and Daniel had been friends until they had a falling out.

As is so often the case, the heroine of the story fell for the rogue.

But the audience always suspected — as I guess the readers before them did — that Firth's character was really the one for her.

The audience found that out for certain when Bridget discovered that Daniel had been cheating on her. This revelation, by the way, came before the midway point of the movie.

I have to admit that, as a journalist, I was drawn in by the part of the story where Bridget became a TV correspondent. My career has been in print, and print journalists usually look down on TV journalists as not being very, well, journalistic. The prevailing attitude is that TV journalists are more entertainers than journalists — and Bridget certainly seemed that way when she did things like slide down the fire station pole in one of her early broadcast pieces.

But later, when she was dispatched to get an in–depth interview with a British aid worker and the Kurdish freedom fighter, I could relate to her emotions. The aid worker had married the freedom fighter and had been trying for five years to keep him from being returned to his home country where he faced all but certain execution. The decision was to be handed down, and Bridget was sent to cover it.

I could relate to her sense of significance in the world as she went to cover the event. I remember feeling that way when I was assigned to a big story. "Am suddenly hard–headed journalist," she wrote in her diary, "ruthlessly committed to promoting justice and liberty. Nothing can distract me from my dedication to the pursuit of truth."

When she learned that the defendants she had hoped to interview had been spirited away, she feared losing her job, but it turned out that Firth's character had been the defense attorney, and he had instructed the defendants not to give any interviews.

He also arranged to give Bridget an exclusive interview.

And Bridget realized that he loved her just as she was.

That's what we all want, isn't it?

Wednesday, December 25, 2013

A Hot War Story, a Cold Love Story



"All this while I've been packing ice around my heart. How will I make it melt?"

Nicole Kidman

"Cold Mountain," the Civil War drama that premiered 10 years ago today, is the kind of movie that can be frustrating.

It tries to tell a couple of stories at once. That's fine with me. I guess I was a weird kid. While most of my peers seemed to hate reading and went to sometimes extraordinary lengths to avoid it, I was the kind of kid who liked to read so much that I gravitated to lengthy books. My logic, I suppose, was that the longer the book, the more there was to enjoy.

As a teenager, I was reading books by James Michener, who was not only wordy but also tended to weave several stories into one. When it is done well, I have found it to be a rewarding reading experience. Consequently, the more the better. Same thing goes for movie plots, I guess.

But you can run into trouble trying to tell two stories at once.

As a war story, "Cold Mountain" did a good job of portraying the brutality and cruelty of war within the context of its times (as "Saving Private Ryan" did with World War II). The problem, though, is that director Anthony Minghella's movie also wanted to be a romance, and that is a tricky assignment.

It isn't impossible to achieve. It just requires a rather delicate balancing act. It was sufficiently thoughtful in its handling of war and the suffering it brought to not only the soldiers but the civilians as well.

But I didn't feel that it worked as a love story, mainly because the leads (Nicole Kidman and Jude Law) didn't really seem to have much genuine affection for each other. And that really was too bad because, above all else, I think, "Cold Mountain" was meant to be a love story. But it was aptly named because, all evidence to the contrary, Kidman and Law just didn't have much mutual chemistry.

At one point, for example, Law deserted during the war and made a beeline for home. Was he driven by a burning, insatiable desire to be with Kidman? Not so you could tell.

Near the end of the movie, Law spoke to Kidman of his desire to be with her, but the words were flat without any tangible evidence of his love for her. All the audience got was a few voiceovers by Kidman reciting the letters she sent to him. Law's character never spoke of wishing to be with Kidman, and audiences never heard his thoughts so who was to know what went through his mind?

It was only when he spoke of those thoughts near the end of the movie that viewers got a glimpse into his motivation. Even Kidman seemed bewildered. "We barely knew each other," she said.

I liked Renee Zellweger's performance as the earthy Ruby who helps Kidman's Ada run her farm, and I liked what Dana Rowader wrote about it for AllMovie.com: Zellweger's performance, Rowader wrote, "may be considered by some as hamming it up or chewing the scenery; however, her character injects life into the film where it would otherwise have fallen horribly flat."

I'm not sure I agree with the notion that the movie "would ... have fallen horribly flat." I suppose that is a matter of opinion.

Apparently, the Oscar voters liked Zellweger's performance, though. They rewarded it with the statuette for Best Supporting Actress.

Rowader suggests, though, that performances by Zellweger and others "upstage the two leads." And I'm willing to concede there may be something to that.

There really is no question that the supporting cast had a lot of interesting characters (and intriguing choices to play them).

There was Donald Sutherland as Kidman's minister father, a generally wise and upstanding man — and, on the flip side of the religious coin, there was Philip Seymour Hoffman as an amoral preacher.

There was Natalie Portman as the war widow forced to raise a child on her own who sought comfort in the arms of a stranger (Law, trying to get home).

Portman's performance may have been the best of the bunch, even in what was a relatively small role. The audience didn't need to know the details of her suffering. They could see it in her face, in her eyes, and they could hear it in her voice.

They saw an example of her suffering when Union soldiers seeking food occupied her dwelling, tied her to a post outside and left her crying infant on the cold ground. It occurred to me as I watched that Portman's character must have thought she was cursed.

Perhaps she did.

Based on what I know of the Civil War, it seems to me that anyone who survived it must have thought he/she was cursed. As far as I could see, there really were no winners in a conflict that claimed so much blood and so much property.

As I say, as a war story, "Cold Mountain" was a strong statement.

But, as a love story, I have to admit that it left me cold.

Thursday, December 27, 2012

The Movie Musical's Last Stand?



Billy Flynn (Richard Gere): This is Chicago, kid. You can't beat fresh blood on the walls.

It probably isn't obvious to modern movie viewers, but, for awhile, movie musicals were frequently recognized as the best movies of the year — at least by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.

But, after "Oliver!" won Best Picture in 1969, no musical won Best Picture again until 2003, when "Chicago," the film that was released 10 years ago today, beat, among others, the second installment in the "Lord of the Rings" film trilogy.

And, as a matter of fact, "Chicago" is the most recent musical to be nominated for Best Picture. (That isn't surprising, really. Musicals represent a much smaller segment of filmmaking than they once did.)

(As a one–time newspaper copy editor, I get a kick out of the way that newspaper front pages in movies always have banner headlines for the very story that the movie happens to be about. It will be that way in the filmmakers' universe even if the president is assassinated at the same time or nuclear tensions reach an all–time high.)

Renée Zellweger, who played Roxie, a housewife who coveted a career in show biz, and Catherine Zeta–Jones, whose character, Velma, already had a career in vaudeville, were the focal points of what was a truly satirical story.

Both women were accused of murder. Initially, Zellweger killed her lover after learning that he did not have the show business connections he told her he had, that he had only told her that in order to sleep with her. She convinced her husband (played by John C. Reilly), who showed up after the fact, to take the fall for her, claiming that the man was a burglar.

But Reilly's character got cold feet, and Zellweger was taken to the county jail, where she crossed paths with Zeta–Jones, who was in custody for killing her husband and her sister, and Queen Latifah, the jail's unethical matron who lived by one rule — when you're good to Mama, she's good to you.

Enter Richard Gere, who played Billy Flynn, a smooth operator of a lawyer of whom it was said he had never lost a case in which he represented a female client.

[BILLY (as Roxie)]
Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes we both
Oh yes we both
Oh yes, we both reached for
The gun, the gun, the gun, the gun
Oh yes, we both reached for the gun
For the gun.


[BILLY and REPORTERS]
Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes they both
Oh yes, they both
Oh yes, they both reached for
The gun, the gun, the gun, the gun,
Oh yes, they both reached for the gun
For the gun.

Of course, it helped if the client did and said everything as Billy instructed.

And Roxie was eager to do precisely that.

The story was clearly told with one tongue pressed firmly against the cheek. With music titles like "Cell Block Tango," "Mister Cellophane" and "Funny Honey," what would you expect?

If your answer was "bawdy musical," I'd say you were right.

If you haven't seen the movie, I will try not to let any cats out of the bag.

Let's just leave it at this:

When the final credits rolled and the last notes of the last song faded away, Roxie and Velma had patched up their jailhouse differences and appeared ready to take on the world together.

Roxie was skeptical until Velma observed that "there's only one business in the world where that's not a problem at all: show business."

Roxie couldn't argue with that. A partnership had been born.

And the groundwork for a possible sequel (although, whether that was ever a realistic possibility, no sequel has materialized in the last 10 years) had been laid.