Hey folks, Harry here with a peekaboo from Moriarty, that degenerate old evil dude in that Lab beneath that Fault in California, on HOLY SMOKE. As you my remember from Lynn Bracken's review, his hands were on her more than the popcorn, but still... I think he has given a fair review of Lynn's... I mean HOLY SMOKE. So without further barnfarkling from me, let's get on with the evil genius...
Hey, Head Geek...
"Moriarty" here.
Well, it's been a busy month, but we're finally
wrapping up those long-term projects that forced me to
take much of last month off from my work here at AICN.
That's not to say I haven't slipped in a couple of
assignments here and there. For example, I
accompanied the charming Lynn Bracken to a showing of
HOLY SMOKE just last week, her account of which I
forwarded to you already. Since the film's opening
for its limited run in Los Angeles and New York today,
the 3rd, I wanted to jump in and share my feelings on
it with you.
I admire Jane Campion. I really do. I think she's a
brave filmmaker, a personal filmmaker with a unique
voice and a singular vision. I think much like I
think of David Lynch... they each make the films they
make because there's no other type of film they could
make. Jane Campion couldn't bury her trademarked
interests and style in a mainstream picture if she
tried, and that's to be admired in a world where art
is so frequently sold out, homogenized.
But with ambition can come failure, and Jane's proven
that before. In my opinion, PORTRAIT OF A LADY is one
of the most horrendously painful films I've ever had
the misfortune of witnessing. I didn't just watch the
film... I suffered it. I endured it. I was, in the
end, beaten by it. That crushing disappointment was
due in large part to my esteem for ANGEL AT MY TABLE,
SWEETIE, and THE PIANO, all of which I consider
masterful, transporting, astonishing to different
degrees. When I walked into HOLY SMOKE, I was open
for whatever experience might be ahead, hoping it was
Campion with her wings fully spread again.
I think HOLY SMOKE is, in the end, a lesser effort
from the filmmaker, but it's one that is crammed with
ideas that are interesting, intriguing, teasing, sexy,
and smart. In many ways, the film is too full of
ideas. Jane co-wrote the film with her sister and
occasional collaborator Anna, and there's a breathless
sense to it, as if they were both so eager to get all
these cool things into the film that they didn't ever
stop to make sense of any of them. There's no
finesse, no subtelty, no time for us to get swept up
in the goings-on.
It starts well. In fact, it starts very well. I'd
say that if you showed the first two or three reels of
the film to anyone, they'd be up for the rest of it.
Nothing ever matches that persuasive crazed
inventiveness, though. We start with a girl, Ruth
(Kate Winslet), on a bus. She's going somewhere.
She's surrounded by people. It's just her face that
holds us, and it's a seductive start. I hate to use
words like this, because there's no way to use them
without sounding hackneyed, but Winslet is radiant in
the film, lit from within, and seems possessed of
secrets at every turn. She goes to see a guru with a
friend while they're on vacation in India, and she is
enlightened. Something inside of her responds on a
primal level, and Ruth decides to stay. The way
Campion shoots the sequence, the rapture that she
paints the frame with, convinces us as well. Ruth's
right to stay. It's beautiful.
When her parents Miriam (Julie Hamilton) and Gilbert
(Tim Robertson) find out about what she's done, they
are devastated, convinced she's been brainwashed.
Miriam becomes obssessed with getting Ruth back, and
decides to fly to India, to lie to Ruth, to tell her
that her father's dying -- whatever it takes. Again,
Campion nails every moment of the mother's visit. We
see India through her eyes, smell what she smells.
It's squalid, filthy, terrifying, sad. Hamilton is
heartbreaking in these early moments, setting a tone
so real, so honest, that the later cartoonishness of
many characters seems jarring. She can't convince
Ruth with any argument, though, can't shake her
daughter's alien new faith, and she flees. Her
subsequent panic attack on the streets and hysterical
collapse do what her reason couldn't; Ruth accompanies
her mother back to Australia.
Meanwhile, her family has brought in PJ Waters (Harvey
Keitel), an American cult exiter, a deprogrammer.
He's going to spend three days with Ruth at a remote
shack and break her will, bring her back. He's
supposedly a big deal, the best in the business, with
Ruth being just number 190 in a long list of
successes. Still, I wasn't convinced. There's
nothing in Keitel's performance that suggests this guy
would be any good at the job. In fact, he's
loathesome from the moment he arrives, a stereotype of
the middle-aged hustler, and I never believe that
anyone would fall for his act. He sure doesn't strike
me as any sort of master chess player, a verbal
duellist of unmatched ability. He's just Keitel... a
lout, a big bruise of a guy. One of Ruth's relatives,
a sister-in-law named Yvonne (Sophie Lee), is
practically throwing her panties at PJ from the moment
he steps off the plane. In the press notes for the
film, Lee talks about her character, giving a glimpse
at how her behavior is caused by a reaction to having
two children, to feeling trapped, and that's a valid
choice. It's just that the Campions haven't written
anything that would suggest any of that inner life to
us, the audience.
That's actually one of my biggest overall complaints
about the film. There's a big cast here of family
members, all of them gathered and huddling and waiting
on the fringe of Ruth's deprogramming. Dan Wyllie,
Paul Goddard, George Mangos, Kerry Walker, Leslie
Dayman, Simon Anderson... they all do everything they
can to fill out this massive ensemble with quirks and
little character touches, and it's admirable work in
many ways. They're not characters, though, and they
never really make any impression. They're types, all
barking and reacting, and always doing exactly what
they have to do in order to keep the film moving,
moving, moving. Again, there's that relentless "Look
at this and this and this and this" quality that keeps
the viewer at a distance, never letting us in.
Once Ruth and PJ are alone, the film should kick into
high gear. We're expecting a spirited debate here, a
battle of willpowers, a TAMING OF THE SHREW meets LAST
TANGO IN PARIS thing, and that seems to be what
they're getting at with scene after scene of arguments
that go nowhere. Ruth and PJ posture at each other,
but they never engage. There's not one real
conversation between them. They talk around things,
artifice overwhelming many of their exchanges.
There's a few nice touches, like when Ruth makes a
"HELP" sign out of rocks that draws the attention of a
plane, with PJ having no idea why the plane keeps
buzzing them. It's a funny scene, and there's a great
subtle power game that comes from her having a secret.
There's moments where a few sparks fly, when there's
a hint of chemistry. Campion keeps interrupting
things, though, pulling us out of it to bring that
giant family ensemble back at the worst moments.
One of the hallmarks of Campion's work is her
attitudes towards sexuality. She's got specific
ideas, and it's evident from the beginning of the film
that this is a movie that's got sex on its mind just
as much as the spirit, if not more. Yvonne eventually
makes her pass at PJ, giving him a blowjob when she
drops by some of Ruth's clothes in the middle of the
night. Yvonne confesses to PJ that she uses photos of
movie stars' faces to get off during sex with her
husband. It's a funny scene, but I don't believe it
for a second. Yvonne's a device. The only reason she
sleeps with PJ is so that Kate can observe PJ and
Yvonne together at a showing of a videotaped
documentary on cults. Ruth sees them touching, puts
it together even if no one else in the room does.
And here's where everything starts to really fall
apart. The moment when Ruth finally surrenders to PJ
sexually is undeniably arousing, but it's muddled,
confusing, and Campion never clues us in to how much
of a game Ruth is playing. Is her helpless, wilting,
vulnerable nature an act, or is it the real Ruth? And
if it is, then was the strength we've seen in every
other sequence previously just an act? Because the
Ruth of the film's second half and the Ruth of the
film's first half aren't the same character. Not by a
long shot. It just feels like what we're watching are
notes, the rushed doodles of the Campions as they
block out the kind of film they want to make. There's
almost no subtext to anything. It's all right there
where it can be seen by anyone. It's text, writ
large.
By the end of the film, once Pam Grier's shown up and
we've had lesbian bar dancing and a memorable golden
shower and some unexpectedly ugly violence, I had
sufferend one embarrassing laughing fit during an
extended sequence involving Keitel in a skintight red
dress, makeup, and one cowboy boot, and I was also
fidgeting mightily. I was impatient for the film to
end, a bad sign. This is one of those times when
you just feel bad that it didn't work. Campion's
gifted enough that she'll get her focus back with
something, where it's the next film or the one after,
but this is something I'd only recommend to hardcore
fans of the director or anyone with a Kate Winslet
fetish. Her nudity in the film isn't just brave...
it's genuinely erotic. Her confidence is magnetic,
and it's because of her that I never gave up on the
film completely, but the talent on display in the
first part of the movie ends up squandered, as if the
film has given up on us.
Okay... I'm seeing a big (and I mean big in every
sense) Christmas movie later today. I'll be telling
you all about that and a dozen other things in
RUMBLINGS FROM THE LAB on Tuesday morning. I'll also
be talking about a special four-part series coming up
in the last few weeks of the year. Until then...
"Moriarty" out.
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