June 2021

THE BONFIRE OF THE VANITIES (1990)

     In the film wasteland of the 1980s and early ‘90s, there were plenty of films just as inept as this misguided adaptation of Tom Wolfe’s sensational best seller.

    When I saw the film in 1990, I didn’t quite get why so many were loudly disappointed; it was just your average bad movie to me.

    But its reputation as a classic Hollywood disaster has survived 30 years after its release, in large part because of Wall Street Journal writer Julie Salamon’s book about the troubled production, “The Devil’s Candy,” which came out a year later. Turner Classic Movies is revisiting the film’s creation in its “The Plot Thickens” podcast, narrated by Salamon and featuring her scratchy interviews recorded during the production.

    Seeing the movie again, after having just read the novel, I now understand how badly it missed the mark set by Wolfe. Neither director Brian De Palma or screenwriter Michael Cristofer (he had just ruined the film version of “The Witches of Eastwick”) seemed to comprehend that to make a convincing satire everyone needs to play it straight. Outside of a few successful scenes, the filmmakers turned the novel into a broad, bumbling comedy.

    Problem No. 1 was the casting of Tom Hanks as Sherman McCoy, the Wall Street bond broker who struts through life, imagining himself, in Wolfe’s oft-quoted phrase, a “master of the universe.” Before the ‘90s, the highlights of Hank’s career were the lightweight, family hits “Splash” and “Big.” His screen image was, essentially, as an overgrown kid. Yes, McCoy is a self-deluded fool, but he needed to be played with strained seriousness.

    Yet this was a big-budget Hollywood film, which demanded a major star and a somewhat likable lead character. That is not what “Bonfire” is all about. None of these characters are likeable. Equally despicable is the tabloid journalist Peter Farrow, who distorts the facts, prints rumors and speculation, while being manipulated by an influential African American minister, Rev. Bacon (John Hancock).

      Farrow is played by Bruce Willis as the coolest guy in the room. His drunken, unethical behavior quickly becomes lost in the film’s opening single-shot scene (Vilmos Zsigmond’s camera work is a highlight) of him misbehaving as he’s escorted to a speaking engagement. Farrow also narrates the film, giving him a respectability that Wolfe must have been shocked by.

     For those who haven’t seen the movie or read the novel, McCoy finds himself in hot water when his mistress (Melanie Griffith), after they lose their way in the Bronx driving from the airport, sideswipes a young black man, who, with a friend, seem ready to rob McCoy.

     When the youth slips into a coma, Rev. Bacon makes political hay by demanding the district attorney’s office find the car involved and, when Sherman’s Mercedes is identified, that he be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.  This works well for the politically ambitious DA (F. Murray Abraham), who is anxious to show that his office doesn’t just prosecute Blacks and Latino criminals.

    At some point, DePalma realized that with two sympathetic white stars at the top of the cast there needed to be a minority voice as the story told of the deep racial divide of 1980s New York (and the country). So he replaced Alan Arkin with Morgan Freeman to play the judge in McCoy’s court case and gave him a long, ridiculously heartfelt speech to end the film.

    Instead of Wolfe’s points that lying and corruption have undermined all of our institutions—religion, justice, finances, journalism—audiences are left with a “can’t we all get along” showstopper.

     I’ve argued time and time again that movies should never be judged by their source material. DePalma and producer Peter Gruber, the passionate originator of this picture, had the right to make any film they wanted out of Wolfe’s novel. But not only did they leave out all of Wolfe’s important themes, but what’s left on the screen fails on virtually every artistic level. Even worse, it’s just marginally entertaining.  

 

IN THE HEIGHTS (2021)

     While this high-energy musical tries a bit too hard to turn its characters into symbols of their race—while the same characters lament the pressure of representing—it brings a community to life in stylish dance numbers and a smooth mix of rap and more traditional tunes.

     This was “Hamilton” creator Lin-Manuel Miranda first Broadway production, developed (with Quiara Alegria Hudes) while he was attending Wesleyan University, telling the story of two young people from Washington Heights, a New York city neighborhood of mostly Dominican heritage, struggling to understand their dreams.

        Anthony Ramos plays Usnavi (the role originally sung by Miranda), the owner of the neighborhood Bodega who is determined to return to the Domincan Republic to rebuild his father’s beachside bar. His close friend Nina (singer Leslie Grace in her first major acting role) has just returned from her first year at Stanford and isn’t sure she wants to return.

     Surrounding these two is a neighborhood filled with colorful characters that, despite the unavoidable surreal aspects of a musical, feel authentic, talking and reacting like actual humans.

    Ramos, who played Hamilton’s son in “Hamilton,” gives quite a performance here, serving as the narrator of the story along with its star and kicking the film off with the infectious title rap. Yet despite his upbeat screen presence, the characters on-again, off-again romance with hairdresser Vanessa (Melissa Barrera), who dreams of being a designer, wasn’t believable and felt forced.

    In contrast, the other romantic couple (Nina and Benny, played by Corey Hawkins) were very convincing. 

    The film, well directed by John M. Chu (“Crazy Rich Asians”), like most musicals, is way too long (but not “La La Land” long) and has about two too many endings before the real thing. But it’s probably the best live-action musical Hollywood has produced in a long time and, for me, was the perfect film to experience on the big screen after a long COVID-caused absence.

 

THE WOMAN IN THE WINDOW (2021)

       Set almost entirely inside a dimly lit New York apartment, this Hitchcock mash-up doesn’t offer much in the way of psychological insight even though the main character is a therapist being treated by a psychologist.

      But I found the film, on a purely entertainment level, a diverting hour and 40 minutes, with yet another first-rate performance by Amy Adams and solid supporting work from Gary Oldman and Julianna Moore. And for fans of the best-selling novel by A.J. Finn, the script, adapted by Tracy Letts (who also plays the psychologist), barely changes a sentence. 

      Anna (Adams) plays an agoraphobic woman who seems to have suffered some catastrophic life event and now drinks and watches movies all day and night (sounds like the perfect life, right?), when she’s not spying on the goings-on in the apartments across the street. She occasionally has phone conversations with her estranged husband and child, and talks to her downstairs boarder, but otherwise has virtually no contact with the outside world.

    Until a teenage boy, who just moved in with his parents across the street, brings her a gift (I’m not sure why) and they strike up an unlikely friendship. A few days later, his mother (Moore) visits and the two bond over a bottle of wine.

    But when Anna thinks she witnesses the woman being murdered—a la James Stewart in “Rear Window”—police and the husband (Oldman) assure her that his wife (Jennifer Jason Leigh) is alive and well. Who was this woman she met who claimed to be the wife and mother?

     As the story peels back the details of Anna’s life, the central murder mystery grows murkier, and she feels more threatened in her self-imposed isolation. Director Joe Wright (“Darkest Hour”) keeps the tension level high as he channels the works of the master of suspense.

     Adams continues her run of fine performances that began with her Oscar-nominated role as the pregnant wife in “Junebug” (2005)--she’s unquestionably one of America’s finest actresses. While this film probably won’t result in her seventh nomination, she has two major roles upcoming: in the screen adaption of the award-winning musical “Dear Evan Hansen” and reprising her role as Giselle from “Enchantment” (2007).

  

THE LONG HAUL (1957)

      It’s easy to dismiss the acting skills of Victor Mature, whose main claim to fame was his athletic physique and chiseled profile that made him the perfect fit for Biblical adventure roles,

     Ten years into his career, he was cast as Samson, the legendary strongman in “Samson and Delilah” (1949) and then, in 1953, as Demetrius in “The Robe,” and in the 1954 sequel, “Demetrius and the Gladiators.” It’s hard to separate Mature from these bare-chested, sword-wielding Biblical warriors, roles that don’t exactly require classic acting chops.

    But before “Samson” made him a star, his low-key presence served well as gunman Doc Holliday, Wyatt Earp’s righthand man, in John Ford’s “My Darling Clementine” (1946) and then as the reformed thief who rats on his accomplices after a jail sentence in “Kiss of Death” (1947).
     Recently, I saw a trio of films that made me reappraised Mature; his work in gritty crime pictures more than make up for his hammy, pre-pants heroes.

     In “I Wake Up Screaming” (a terrible title), Mature is hot-shot promoter Frankie (the precursor to an agent, I guess), who bets he can turn an attractive waitress (Carole Landis) into a star. He does, but just as she’s ready for the big-time in Hollywood, she dumps Frankie and then is murdered. Of course, he’s the prime suspect, especially after he hooks up with the dead woman’s sister (Betty Grable). Supporting the stars are Laird Cregar, as the dogged detective and the ubiquitous Elisha Cook Jr.

      In “Cry of the City” (1948), Mature plays the hunter, not the hunted, a New York City detective, who grew up in Little Italy with hardened criminal Martin Rome (noir stalwart Richard Conte), who, after killing a cop, escapes from prison. Mature’s Det. Candella is determined to bring Rome in while protecting Martin’s younger brother from getting involved.

     This noirish version of Cagney-O’Brien relationship in “Angels With Dirty Faces” pushes the theory that poor neighborhoods are a breeding group for criminality and gives Candella’s one too many inspirational speeches. But director Robert Siodmak, who helmed the noir masterpieces “The Killers” and “Phantom Lady,” keeps the focus on the mano a mano between these two tough-guy personalities (originally Mature was cast as Rome) from the mean streets.

     More off-beat, but featuring what may be Mature’s best performance, is “The Long Haul,” a British film clearly influenced by American noir. He plays Harry, a recently discharged soldier who wants to return to the states, but relocates to England for his British wife, grudgingly taking a truck driving job. But he loses that job through no fault of his own and ends up at a less reputable company. 

     The film is an excellent study of how easily a seemingly honest, ethical man finds himself on that slippery slope to criminality. It doesn’t help when he falls for the girlfriend of his gangster-like boss. Soon, Harry is willing to throw his life away for bombshell Lynn (Diana Dors, the British Marilyn Monroe).

      While the driving isn’t quite the high-wire act presented in another British picture “Hell Drivers” (see last month’s Thoughts), “Long Haul” allows Mature to display his full range as an actor. Harry, though a former military man, isn’t a classic tough guy, yet finds himself in that kind of world and definitely finds himself in uncharted territory when he is thrown together with Lynn.

       The gritty black and white photography by Basil Emmott and fast-paced direction by Ken Hughes (whose odd career includes the overwrought children’s film “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang” and the Mae West cult classic “Sextette”), along with Mature’s complex performance, elevate this B-movie material.    

       The actor continued to spend too much time playing exotic warloads (“The Bandit of Zhobe,” “Hannibal,” “The Tartars”) before retiring in the early 1960s. He returned to essential play himself in the Peter Sellers vehicle “After the Fox” (1966) before taking bit roles in the Monkees’ psychedelic picture, “Head” (1968) and “Won Ton Ton: The Dog Who Saved Hollywood” (1976).

  

YOU DON’T KNOW JACK (2010) and THE WIZARD OF LIES (2017)

     After his breakthrough film “Diner,” a much-quoted 1982 cult classic of young adulthood, Barry Levinson became one of the go-to directors in Hollywood for the next two decades.  Crowd-pleasing fare like “The Natural,” “Good Morning Vietnam,” “Rain Man” (winning best director and best picture Oscars), “Bugsy” and “Wag the Dog,” just added to his reputation as a hit maker; and then it stopped.

     Levinson, seeing the writing on the wall, pivoted to television as both a producer and director, specializing in cable bio-pics on controversial figures, including Jack Kevorkian and Bernie Madoff.

     Al Pacino, who like his director has scored on cable playing a series of famous men, gives one of his best late-career performances as the quirky doctor determined to provide a safe, medically sound way for those in pain who want to end their lives.

     “You Don’t Know Jack” chronicles Kevorkian’s journey as he perfects his delivery system for euthanasia and quickly spurs the furor of the religious right, led by a Michigan district attorney. Because Kevorkian is an offbeat nonconformist in all aspects of his personality, the film, despite its heartbreaking subject, has a comic undertone, keeping it from becoming a sermon.

     Levinson has also brought together a first-rate supporting cast, with John Goodman as Jack’s best friend and medical supplier, Susan Sarandon as a community advocate who aligns with Jack and long-time character actress Brenda Vaccaro as the doctor’s long-suffering, supportive sister.

    Pacino, who a few years later played another big-glasses-wearing nerd in “Paterno” (also under Levinson’s direction), won a well-deserved Emmy for capturing the self-assured, stubborn Kevorkian, who refused to let other’s moral beliefs deter his crusade, even when it meant jail time.   

    Levinson again found the perfect actor for his subject, casting Robert DeNiro in “The Wizard of Lies.” The role of Madoff, the Wall Street titan who orchestrated the most elaborate Ponzi scheme in financial history in the 1990s and early 2000s, falls right into the great actor’s wheelhouse. Like the many gangsters DeNiro has portrayed, Madoff shows loyalty to both family and employees while also displaying a hair-trigger temper.

    Unfortunately, the movie doesn’t match DeNiro’s performance. In attempting to approach the story from many different angles—Madoff’s relationship with his sons and wife, the dismantling of his scheme, the FBI investigation, the failure of the SEC and the media coverage, all framed with a jailhouse interview by a New York Times reporter—Levinson turns the movie into a feature-length trailer, making it difficult to get a grip on the financial details ($65 billion worth) or how this very smart man though it was all going to end.

     At points, the movie seems a tad sympathetic to Madoff and portrays his sons and wife as victims rather than co-conspirators or even enablers. The real victims, the hundreds whose life savings were embezzled by Madoff, are given short shrift.

     Like DeNiro, Michelle Pfeiffer, playing Ruth Madoff, gives a memorable performance despite the convoluted structure. Both earned Emmy nominations.   

     At 79, Levinson continues to work steadily as a director and producer. The most interesting (and somewhat unbelievable) production upcoming from the director is “Francis and the Godfather,” which will chronicle the making of “The Godfather,” with Oscar Isaac as Francis Coppola and Jake Gyllenhaal as producer Robert Evans. Despite my love of all things “Godfather,” I cannot imagine this being anything less than a disaster; but I can hardly wait.

     

THE PROFESSOR AND THE MADMAN (2019)

    When filmmakers fight with studios, the loser, inevitable, is the resulting movie. This picture, based on a best-selling nonfiction book by Simon Winchester, a project guided by Mel Gibson, was left orphaned when both the star and the director, Gibson protégé Farhad Safinia, failed to offer the needed promotion for this story of the creation of the Oxford English Dictionary.

    It opened in the spring of 2019 with little fanfare and mostly poor reviews. It can’t be denied that Gibson’s tattered personal reputation doesn’t elicit much sympathy from anybody and co-star Sean Penn is hardly a beloved figure in Hollywood.

    Watching it unburdened by these prejudices, I found it quite entertaining, with Gibson (despite a questionable Scottish accent) giving one of his best performances in decades as James Murray, a self-educated linguist who takes over a long-sputtering project to compile an authoritative English-language dictionary in 1870s. Under constant pressure from the snobbish Oxford headmasters, Murray and his team finally start making progress when thousands of submissions of word usage arrive from Dr. William Minor (Penn) of a London insane asylum.

    By the time these two title characters connect, the film has already presented Minor’s back story—probably more than was necessary. In a nutshell, this Yale-educated American surgeon, believing to be stalked by a man from the Civil War, kills an innocent Englishman and is now a patient at the asylum, not, as Murray believes, the attending physician.

      Considering the attitude of his Oxford keepers—they already consider Murray an uneducated Scotsman not worthy of his position—he keeps the truth about Minor to himself, which, inevitably, comes back to hurt him.

    The film’s weakest aspect is in the relationship between Minor and the widow of the man he murdered, encouraged by both Murray and a sympathetic guard (the always excellent Eddie Marsan), which seems to suggest (surely under the influence of Gibson) that simple love is a better cure to insanity than the prevailing medical treatments.

    As both actors sport impressive 19^th Century-style beards (as if vying for a Longfellow/Whitman lookalike contest), it’s easy to dismiss the performances, yet both do a fine job of bring these little-known but fascinating characters alive. For Penn, one of the greatest actors of his generation, this might be his best performance since his Oscar-winning “Milk.” He’s mostly wasted his skills in second-rate productions since then, becoming better known for his international relief organization; though he’s been announced as the title character of an upcoming HBO miniseries on controversial president Andrew Jackson. 

     Like so many historical films, compressing 30 years into two hours can lead to some confusing transitions and a baffling lack of aging by some of the characters. But for me, the central story line, which I’m amazed I had never read about before, and these two fascinating figures, made for a pretty good film.

PHOTOS: Bruce Willis and Tom Hanks in "The Bonfire of the Vanities" (Warner Bros.)

Victor Mature and Diana Dors in "The Long Haul" (Warwick Film)

Robert DeNiro in "The Wizard of Lies" (HBO)