Hi, everyone. "Moriarty" here with some Rumblings From The Lab...
Headline sorta says it all on this one. Beaks really enjoyed one film. He absolutely despised the other. You’ll have to read on, fully warned that there may be spoilers ahead, to know which is which...
I have good news and bad news for Paramount. I’m sure they could give a shit. Still, in the interest of me running off at the mouth, let’s start with the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad news. A career nadir for one of Hollywood’s best mainstream directors, and the nail in the coffin (I hope) of bad adaptations of bad novels by one thoroughly mediocre novelist whose glory days were long gone even before he dreamt up box-office trampling DNA-saurs. Steel yourself.
TIMELINE (d. Richard Donner, w. Frank A. Cappello and George Nolfi)
A throwback to that heady era when all things Crichton were in production, no matter how lousy the material, Richard Donner’s terrible TIMELINE might still be able to make a return on its investment if the studio can find a wormhole on its backlot between now and Thanksgiving through which they could send the fucker back to 1995 (okay, so the book wasn’t published until 1999, but while we’re operating on ludicrous premises here, let’s just assume we could shoot the hardcover release back to 1994), where even CONGO was able to pull down $81 million despite being so bad that triage units were set up outside multiplexes to treat audience members bleeding out from severe, self-inflicted wounds after viewing what then-President Clinton declared, “A full-frontal assault on the inherent dignity of the human spirit. With gorillas.” Otherwise, to invoke a recent failure from another bestselling author, this thing is doomed… DREAMCATCHER doomed. And just as ludicrous.
Of course, TIMELINE would be a bad film of questionable lineage no matter when it was released so long as they were working from the muddled narrative as jammed together by Frank A. Cappello, George Nolfi, and likely thirty-seven of their WGA brethren. A would-be rollicking tale of quantum teleportation enabled by a billionaire techie overtly based on the geekish visage of Bill Gates (and embodied by David Thewlis, who, if I’m not mistaken, was warning of this film in his unforgettably dire monologue from Mike Leigh’s NAKED), the picture gets off to a decent start when a rag-clad peasant materializes from out of nowhere in the desert, suffering from a couple of unsightly gashes in his side. He’s taken to a local hospital, where he promptly croaks, but, in scrutinizing x-rays taken of the man’s body, doctors discover that his whole system was bizarrely out of whack; vertebrae don’t match-up, organs seem put together wrong, looking almost like a broken-up fax sent and resent several times over.
This is Crichton’s big idea: “faxing” a brilliant collection of grad students back to 14th Century France in the midst of the 100 Years War to rescue their archaeologist mentor, and recent time traveler, Professor Edward Johnston (Billy Connolly), who has been captured by English on the eve of their unlikely defeat by the French (helpfully explained via an elaborate model at the outset of the story that does *not* rival Cameron’s ballsy computerized depiction of the Titanic’s sinking before dramatizing it). They’re led by an ex-Marine in the aggressively fit form of Neal McDonough, who plays his advisor role like a personal trainer at Gold’s Gym, appearing forever on the verge of ordering the entire cast to do fifty stomach crunches. Serving as the protagonist in the early going is the professor’s son, Chris Hughes, played to dependably stultifying effect by Paul Walker. As ever, Walker proves a unstoppable, personality-swallowing void against which all of his unfortunate co-stars must struggle futilely. Faring the worst is the normally solid Frances O’Connor, who winds up on the business end of Walker’s botched attempts to recapture the erotic heat conjured up alongside his 2 FAST 2 FURIOUS love interest, Tyrese. Meanwhile, on the marginal plus side, Gerard Butler is much better than the material deserves as Andre Marek, a dashing expert in medieval weaponry who picks up the heroic slack midway through the film when he rescues the historically important Lady Claire (Anna Friel). Unfortunately, his character arc receives such perfunctory set-up in the early going that Marek’s ultimate fate winds up being far less involving than it could’ve been.
Even if that plot thread were tightened, though, there’d still be a whole host of problems knee-capping TIMELINE, not the least of which is the film’s reason for being, which is precisely what Paramount execs should’ve been considering before they greenlit this enervating mess. I mean, really…. who is this movie for? Aside from the shrinking ranks of Crichton devotees and SCA enthusiasts, who’s going to get stoked over a trip back to the Middle Ages, especially when the French are positioned as the good guys? (Merely a bad idea prior to the making of this picture; now an unfortunately disastrous one.) Was there some sense of obligation to make the film after having spent millions on the book’s rights? (And, if this is the case, can I expect an adaptation of THE ALIENIST, still under the aegis of Rudin and, by extension, Paramount, anytime soon?) Because last I checked, moviegoers weren’t exactly clamoring for a return trip to this era after A KNIGHT’S TALE, and this certainly wasn’t exactly brimming with the kind of imaginative action sequences and sparkling repartee that would overpower audiences’ resistance to the genre (or a vivid rogue like Jack Sparrow, through whom Johnny Depp was able to single-handedly revive the pirate flick this summer).
It probably would’ve been more entertaining to light a cauldron of $80 million ablaze on the Paramount lot, and film a backlit Richard Donner in the foreground as he shared anecdotes about his previous films while the small fortune crackled and burned. That way, there would’ve at least been a little bit of laughter to offset the shameful spectacle of good money goin’ up in smoke. Here’s hoping Donner finds something more suited to his smart showmanship next time out. And here’s *really* hoping that Walker finds his calling as a missionary, and disappears to Chile; something worthwhile to which he can devote his life, so that we can forever be spared the unsettling emptiness of his onscreen company.
One last parting thought (and this will only make sense if you ever have the misfortune to see the movie):
NIGHT ARROWS!!!
Trust me… it’s the new “Blow the Dome!”
Now, I did promise some good news, correct?
SCHOOL OF ROCK – Test Screening (d. Richard Linklater, w. Mike White)
While Richard Linklater returned to indie film prominence in 2001 with his rotoscoped fantasia of ideas both provocative and half-baked, WAKING LIFE, and the stripped-down, three character drama, TAPE (based on a blistering one-act play by Stephen Belber), mass audience acceptance eluded him. Actually, that’s being too kind to a filmmaker I greatly admire. These movies were ignored. Even the art film audiences failed to turn out in significant numbers, which would’ve been unheard of in the director’s heyday (sandwiched somewhere between DAZED AND CONFUSED and BEFORE SUNRISE). Such a disheartening rejection of two challenging and exceedingly well-crafted works must’ve been a professional wake-up call for Linklater; how else to explain his presence behind the camera of the unabashedly commercial, stand-up-and-cheer trifle, SCHOOL OF ROCK?
Written by Mike White, whose work on the criminally short-lived FREAKS & GEEKS redeems the rest of his spotty oeuvre (sorry, I’m just not a fan), SCHOOL OF ROCK is principally a Jack Black vehicle that stands ready to test the boundaries of the general public’s willingness to endure the Tenacious D. warbler’s lay about charm. Skeptics of his fitfulness as a leading man will certainly get plenty of ammunition for their cause in the early going, where Black is a little too front-and-center as the hapless Dewey Finn, a man committed to the higher calling of rocking the complacent masses out of their lives of quiet desperation. Problem is, his enthusiasm translates into an on-stage selfishness, where he’s prone to hogging the spotlight with interminable solos. This hastens his being voted out of the band, sending Dewey out in search of a new batch of dedicated rockers. Meanwhile, he hasn’t paid rent to his roommates in ages (they’re played by writer White as the spineless Ned, and Sarah Silverman as Ned’s shrill, domineering girlfriend, Patty), lending a sense of urgency to his quest, which might have to fall to the wayside while Dewey takes a day job. Lucky for Dewey, he intercepts a call intended for the substitute teaching Ned, and, suddenly, he’s posing as his roommate at a prestigious elementary school out in the ‘burbs. Even luckier for Dewey, his adolescent charges are also musical prodigies. Thus, the “happy idea”: what if Dewey recruited the entire class as his new group, and entered them in a local “Battle of the Bands” contest?
The film is a bit laborious in its set-up, which isn’t helped at all by Linklater and cinematographer Rogier Stoffers’s decision to employ such a drab, wintery color pallatte on what is an otherwise sunny, feel-good film (not that I’m opposed to mixing up formula; it just feels needlessly incongruous with the material). You also get a sense of sheepishness from Linklater’s timid direction, as if he’s somewhat embarrassed by the clichéd quality of his premise. But once Dewey starts putting the band together, the movie comes alive. The indefatigably casual Black establishes a fun rapport with the kids, who are pretty sensational. From the rebellious drummer, to the quiet lead guitarist, to the group’s pushy, burgeoning bitch-on-wheels “manager”, they all get their moments to shine (my favorite of the bunch is the proper Indian keyboardist). Sure, their types may sound familiar, but the performances are suffused with a genuine appeal that can’t be faked. Still, what’s most remarkable is that nearly all of these child actors are actually playing their own instruments (even though I suspect their work has been cleaned up considerably in post, that’s still impressive). I can see the morning talk show appearances now! Finally, rounding out the cast, and operating as the main hurdle in the way of the band’s road to glory, Joan Cusack is typically great as the straight-laced principal with a fatal weakness for Stevie Nicks (this sets up a killer music cue later in the film that I won’t dare spoil for you now).
I don’t think it’s a spoiler, however, to reveal that the film ends with the band making it to the big show to prove their mettle against their grown-up competition, by which point, the film will likely win over the most jaded moviegoer as a kind of COMMITMENTS Jr., minus the mangling of 1960’s R&B classics. There are many dependable, workmanlike directors who could’ve gotten this film to the finish line with the requisite rousing appeal, but I doubt that a single one of these hacks would’ve done it with the effusive, groovin’ élan of Linklater, who, as in DAZED & CONFUSED, connects ecstatically, and to great cinematic effect, with the classic rock aesthetic that is Dewey’s lifeblood. If this is the beginning of the director’s attempt to establish a Soderbergh-like “one for me, one for them” relationship with the studios, they’d do well to reward his splendid, crowd-pleasing work here with something more adventurous next time out. Because Linklater’s certainly done well by you, Paramount. And those profits that you stand to reap due to his concessions to what conventional wisdom defines as “popular taste” could very well put a rosier complexion on what’s suddenly become, after last week, a less-than-stellar year at the box office.
Or maybe MARCI X is better than its quarter-century on the shelf indicates (I think it was Richard Benjamin’s follow-up to MY FAVORITE YEAR). You’ve got Moriarty’s $10.50. He hasn’t been able to shut up about that movie since he got back from Montreal, and I’ve had just about enough.
Faithfully submitted,
Mr. Beaks
Nice to be back and catching up on everything that’s happened while I was gone, including Beaks’s TEXAS CHAINSAW review. I'm surprised by his TIMELINE piece because I remember liking George Nolfi's script when I read it. Lauren Shuler Donner was kind enough to grant me an interview around the time X-MEN 2 came out, and the transcription of said interview went down with my old hard drive, never to be recovered. She was pretty pleased with this film, and seemed to be looking forward to its release. Talking to Beaks, he didn't have much good to say. Seems like they've been working on this one for a while, too. I've disagreed with Beaks before, but never when he was quite so vehement. I guess I'll always keep my fingers crossed for Richard Donner and hope he makes a good film. I've got a lot of good will for him because of all his work over the years, and giving up on something of his this far before release, even when it's a reliable spy like Beaks, just doesn't feel right.
"Moriarty" out.
