| Overall Grade: |
D+ |
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| Story: |
D- |
|
|
| Acting: |
C- |
|
|
| Direction: |
C |
|
|
| Visuals: |
B |
|
|
Was Alan Smithee unavailable?
by big (movies profile)
Mar 24, 2008
131
of
254 people found this review helpful
Let me start with a question: If (without changing anything but the director's name) a film like, say, "Baby Geniuses" had Woody Allen's name on it, would people still leap to defend its brilliance? My guess is yes.
It's puzzling to me how this could have ever ended up anything more than an overdrawn BBC melodrama if the name "Woody Allen" wasn't attached. I suppose the cast wouldn't have been quite so pretty, but perhaps then I could forgive such stilted dialogue and choppy editing trying to convey the story of unlikable characters in unredeeming situations.
For the first half of the film, I felt somewhat dizzied by the abrupt (and somewhat disjointed) scenes, most of which felt shorter than a minute and none of which bothered with any character development. I do know there was a vaguely homoerotic friendship between a tennis instructor at a posh club and one of his students. I also know that, through a few awkwardly delivered and emotionless lines, said tennis instructor becomes infatuated with his student's fiancee, apparently because she's played ping pong. That's really all that's clear, as Allen spends no time creating rounded characters for us and even less time for the people on screen that are allegedly so taken with each other in a scant 30 seconds of paddle instructions and compliments on Scarlett's lips that they allow the forced passion to consume their lives.
The second half plays out in similar pain, but with longer scenes that feel like a series of actors' workshops, mainly because Allen hasn't bothered giving the audience an idea of anyone's motivation for anything beyond simple carnal lust. This, of course, can itself be a great motivator for other sinful acts, but with little interest in those doing the acts, one's interest can only be held for so long. Unfortunately, that line was crossed early in the first hour of the film.
Sadly, I feel like Rhys-Meyers--who's usually entertaining--dropped a few notches in my book, simply because he brought no life to his character. Granted, the material he was given wasn't good, but there's a pretty clear line between rote delivery of tripe and nuanced pick-up lines. Surely he could have at least tried the latter.
I certainly feel as though I could on and on, lamenting at the boredom and frustration I felt sitting in that theater, but I think the point is made: this was the worst film I've seen in a while. Then again, I seem to be the anomaly, which could go back to the whole 'if Woody Allen's name weren't attached to it' missive. Either way, it already stole two hours of my life in the theater, so I probably shouldn't let it take anymore out here.
Just to end on a positive note, however, Allen does do a nice job painting a charming picture of London. And it is worth mentioning that Brian Cox actually was a likeable character, as was the always enjoyable Ewen Bremmer (though it should be noted that, if you're going to see the movie just for Bremmer, don't blink or you'll miss him, since his character is only on screen for about five minutes). |
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