Well it seems that the cat thief John Robie was busy last night stealing glances at movies yet to come. Well, folks we've had a lot of reports on Albert Brooks' next film, THE MUSE, and so far they've been "Pretty Good" and "O...K..." and well.... Robie throws in his opinion, but you know... For my book, Albert here is one of them there acquired taste thingees that my tongue palate doesn't quite enjoy. But.... Here's a spoonful anyways.

Muse review—

Albert Brooks is a dumb ass, albeit a funny as hell one. Why the hell didn’t he push for The Muse to open the same weekend of The Phantom Menace? It’s not that crazy an idea. Number 1 The Muse is about as completely different from The Phantom Menace as a movie can possibly be. Number 2 theaters are going to be insane that weekend, and the spillover crowd who’s already there but of course didn’t get into TPM is going to want to see something, preferably new. Number 3 the movie audience in America isn’t just men 15-35 and men who wish they were 15-35. There’s a huge untapped market of people who could care less about Star Wars (as you all recoil, aghast) and would actually, with noses pointed northward, gladly tell all their friends of how they didn’t bother with that childish Star Wars prattle and instead “saw the new Albert Brooks film.” Number 4 it’s worked in the past. On the weekend Mission: Impossible came out the only other new movie that opened was Spy Hard. Spy Hard made 10 million bucks that weekend. Open Spy Hard any other day of the year and it won’t make enough to get you half a 40 of Colt 45. Now granted, the Mummy is going to be out, and that flick will kick ass (the script is a really fun read), but what adult comedies will be out at the time? None. Perfect time for Brooks to go in for the kill with a comedy to appeal to the crowd that isn’t into “ha ha funny Will Smith when do we get to hear the cool new rap song?” You could even use the whole “opening the same weekend as Star Wars” in the marketing campaign. Even if it bombed, wouldn’t it be kinda fun to be the movie that goes down in history as the flick that was dopey enough to open against Star Wars?

It’s not like this is Brooks’ last movie; though this one isn’t great, I still think Mr. Brooks has got a couple wonderful comedies in him. Seeing as the whole Star Wars tidal wave won’t have even crested by the time the leaves change color, and consequently box office buck is going to be drawn away from all movies, why not go for broke on the big weekend? Can’t you just see the suit reading this now getting all pissed that a little geek is talking marketing strategy? “What they hell does he know, I got this job because….ew, baby, too much teeth…” (that last said to the prostitute beneath his desk).

But really, who gives a crap about when a movie opens? The only important question is whether it’s any good. The Muse, though it’s got some awesome bits and scenes, doesn’t amount to a heck of a lot. With some trimming—and I stress that the version I saw was pretty raw—the thing could be all right, but I still don’t think it can rank up there with his best. The biggest problem here, for me at least, is that it’s a Hollywood story. People entrenched in Hollywood are just like people entrenched in their own little society circles in any city or town; they think that what goes on in their lives, their circle of peers, is the be all end all most important deal going. When screenwriters write movies about the movie industry they tend to forget that the little guy with the glasses sitting in the theater in Boise is just as important as the glamour queen with the boob job sitting in the theater in Beverly Hills. They’re both patrons of the movies, they’re both ticket goers. Sitting in a theater is the great equalizer. The material—if it’s going to be a big studio movie—has got to play everywhere. The only difference between the Boise guy and the Beverly Hills gal is that eight bucks might mean a whole lot more to him than her. That and he probably don’t have a chest full of silicone.

So you’ve got to entertain them all. The Muse is about a Hollywood scriptwriter—and lose all preconceived notions about a guy striving for his “art” before you walk in the door—who has lost his creativity and needs a shot in the arm so he can write a big summer comedy. The shot in the arm comes from The Muse. Albert Brooks is the writer, Sharon Stone is the Muse, and I’m gay. Not really.

I was going to go on a whole riff about Brooks being a dark Capra, but I’ll forgo that spiel to talk about the movie. The thing starts off great, with Brooks getting an award for screenwriting that’s more an indication that his character’s career has run its course than a symbol that he’s going to come up with anything new. There’s a funny dig at James Cameron in his acceptance speech, one of the only few Hollywood things that will actually play because the words are funny even if you don’t know the story behind them. The first twenty minutes or so of the movie runs well. Brooks’s character can’t come up with a story, the studio executive he meets with is played to a tee, there are a few great scenes of Brooks’ character trying to get onto the Universal lot for a meeting with Steven Spielberg. Some of the laughs are a bit esoteric, but through and through this is good stuff so far.

Then some shit starts to rain down. Brooks is always funny in his (his--not necessarily other’s) movies, and usually his supporting cast is more than up to snuff. Lost in America, man, Julie Hagerty was so good in that. Mother, boy oh boy, was Debbie Reynolds ever great. Here, though, it’s the supporting cast that’s got the problems. Sharon Stone is supposed to be the Muse, a Greek Goddess or near god or something whose one of nine or ten that roams the earth and inspires. Personally, if she’s gonna inspire me at all, she should have a bigger rack. Aside from the tit factor I just didn’t buy her as the Muse. She just comes across as “very purposefully trying to be zany.” She’s damn close to nailing it, but in the end I just didn’t buy into her whole deal as much as I should have. It’s not like the lady can’t act; she proved that with Allan Quartermain and the Lost City of Gol.. errr, I mean Casino. Andie McDowell is his wife. Early on she ain’t that bad, but as the story progresses—with her coming up with this cookie baking scheme—she just starts to grate. I like McDowell. Her voice was just so beautiful in Greystoke. Congratulations for the three of you who got that one. Here, though, she just seems uncomfortable. Uncomfortable around the table eating dinner, uncomfortable talking with Brooks, uncomfortable making the cookies.

Supremely uncomfortable in two scenes talking, over a meal, with Sharon Stone. And here is where I think I lose really liking the movie. If Mr. Brooks—who I consider a bit of a modern day Sturges sometimes, I think that highly of him—is reading this, I can only plead for one thing; please cut the two conversations-over-a-meal between Stone and McDowell. At least trim them down. Have a driving techno beat in the background so we don’t notice how awkward the talking is, have a CG monkey climb over the tables in the restaurant and throw its feces at the patrons. Anything to distract me. Stone and McDowell seem so uncomfortable talking to each other that I got squeamish sitting there in the theater. It’s like watching a guy eat worms. Besides that there’s just no flow to the dialogue as delivered.

Stone is this Muse who is so inspiring that she inspires Brooks’ character to write…a dopey stupid comedy about a guy who inherits a big aquarium. I get it, okay, the satire is deeper than I think, the aquarium thing is showing how dumb some of the movies Hollywood comes up with are. But people are going to see this and go, “The big great idea he comes up with is dope inherits aquarium, fish are funny, hilarity ensues? Man that’s lame.” There’s a scene of Brooks’ character explaining his script to his wife—with her laughing at all the “funny” stuff that happens in the script—that left every person in the theater going, “Wha’ planet am I on? Why is she laughing? That sounds moronic.”

There’s a whole big sub-plot about McDowell coming up with this cookie business. She wants to make cookies for a living because she makes these wonderful cookies, oh they’re so lovely. Okay then, make the friggin’ cookies. Brooks’ character gets angry for a great part of the movie because the Muse seems to be helping McDowell get her cookie business off the ground more than helping him write a script. My friend, you have been nominated for an Oscar (this is to Brooks’ character). You’ve got a real nice house, a good family, you don’t seem to be wanting for cash. Your wife wants to start a business, and it looks like it’s going to be successful…and you’re complaining? Shut up, let her make a ton of money in the cookie business, and kick back to refresh the batteries. Then write your script. The feeling here should be that Brooks’ character feels like he’s got nothing left to create, that he’s tapped, that he’ll never do anything worthwhile again. This would be good, but instead the feeling is that Brooks’ character is a whiner who cares the world about what a bunch of asshole studio executives and society snobs think about him. Even though that type of sentiment is true to Hollywood, it does nothing to endear the audience to the character.

Hopefully this thing will change a bunch by the time it comes out. It’s got some great bits, not doubt about that. There’s a tennis match that had me pissing myself, there’s some very funny cameos by James Cameron and Martin Scorsese, there’s a dialogue between Brooks’ character and this Italian guy that’s has me chuckling right now. And there are some great bits of Brooks just being the typical Brooksinian character. Did I just coin a term? And the ending, though the whole last ten minutes happens way too quickly, is a nice little twist. When you see it, seriously, Brooks is a darker version of Capra. Each of his movies has the most goofy deus ex machinas endings…oh I won’t bore you. I hope to God Brooks works on the flow of this thing and cuts back on the extraneous junk. Of course this shouldn’t be dumbed down so everyone can get the jokes. Some people have mom’s like in Mother, some don’t. For those of us that do that movie was so dead on funny it was near therapy. And the whole “release it on the same day as Star Wars” thing? The first two paragraphs of this review are for the sole purpose of finding out if anyone would only read the first two paragraphs of this review, get pissed, and write a mean, angry diatribe in the talkback. So while The Muse isn’t that stupendous as a whole, it’s got more than a few scenes of pure Brooks delight. They’re going to be laughing their ass off when he shows his life’s high light reel up in heaven.