Movie Review: The Leading Man (1996)

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Note:
This piece was originally published by Brian Sauer on his blog Rupert Pupkin Speaks as part of the Underrated Thrillers series by author Jen Johans in the fall of 2014.

Review:
A dramatic thriller with twinges of dark comedy and psychological suspense, one of the reasons director John Duigan’s film flew under the radar was because nobody could figure out precisely how to classify the work and pitch it to an audience.

I say forget about trying to fit it into a neat little box and just enjoy the ride.

Rocker Jon Bon Jovi turns in a terrific performance as Robin Grange, an enigmatic American actor who – rumor has it – was kicked out of Hollywood because he wound up in the wrong studio head’s wife’s bed. In London to try his hand in the theater, Robin befriends acclaimed playwright Felix Webb (Lambert Wilson) who is caught in a love triangle of his own.

Desperately in love with a young aspiring actress (played by Thandie Newton) who he’s just cast in his opus opposite Robin, Felix’s devotion to Netwon’s Hilary is put to the test when his tempestuous wife, Helena (Anna Galiena) begins to catch on.

Pushed to his limit by Helena’s latest stunts lashing out against her absentee husband by taking a scissors to his wardrobe and his hair as he sleeps – the frazzled Felix agrees to a bizarre proposition by Robin wherein the American will seduce his wife in order to get her off his back.

A gentleman’s agreement pitched by Robin as a favor to a friend and with the added caveat that since his wife is beautiful “it won’t exactly be a chore,” Felix gives into the man even if in the back of his mind he doesn’t suspect it will work.

Determined to get into character “for a proper love affair,” Robin begins studying Helena’s habits and tastes, working overtime for a role that audiences realize may not stop with just Helena.

Wondering exactly what Robin has in mind, what his gun is for and just who the mark is and what is the motive, when the plan gets underway and begins to involve Hilary as well, the playwright realizes he may have gotten himself into something he can’t write his way out of by final curtain.

A modern day twist on the parable of being careful what one wishes for, while the script (by the director’s sister Virginia Duigan) could benefit from one more twist in the last act, it’s a fascinating tale of karmic revenge that is that much more effective given its theatrical setting.

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RocknRolla (2008)

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I could begin one of two ways-- with the phrase “open mouth, insert foot,” or by crafting an open letter of apology to Mr. Guy Ritchie. Ritchie, whose tendency towards ADD hyper cuts, cliched gangster speak, and Scorsese, Tarantino, and Coppola rip-offs evidenced in his last few films irritated me so much that the phrase Guy Ritchie-esque or Guy Ritchie-like has been used more than a handful of times in a negative connotation when critiquing hyper-stylized violent films of the last decade.

However, I certainly wasn't alone in my distaste for the overrated writer/director whom Americans just didn't get as much as the Brits (despite my enjoyment of Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and the far too similar, redundant but entertaining Snatch), especially considering that the horrific remake of Swept Away starring his soon to be ex-wife Madonna was widely known to be one of the worst films ever made. Yet, after viewing his latest opus, RocknRolla, I realized he's made his finest film since Lock, Stock.

Yes, it's still filled with his uniquely hyper visual style but this time it works exceptionally well to add an impressionistic subconscious level to the film, bringing us deeper into the story such as when we see the events inside and outside a nightclub where a musician performs and junkies beat the bouncer or in one of the finest alternatively epic and ridiculous chase scenes of the last few decades of filmmaking (right up there with Raising Arizona) as our anti-heroes led by Gerard Butler try to out-run, out-chase, and out-maneuver a group of Russians whom they'd just ripped off.

He fills an increasingly complicated plot with so many characters you fear that Ritchie should've supplied us with a cheat-sheet to keep them all straight, but luckily he adds at least one clever attribute to differentiate between the overwhelming lot whether it's the guy who always asks stupid questions or the one who likes Jane Austen movies, we're riveted by his attention to detail.

In a film that the press release reveals was inspired by the property boom occurring in London , Ritchie notes that he “wanted to take a humorous look at the consequences of the new school pushing in on the old school,” since he adds that “it goes without saying that because there's so much money involved, there are a lot of people taking advantage of the situation.” To this end, the film introduces us to several levels of players involved in the real estate market and those who are linked by mere association with the colorful group he creates.

The film is headed up by London's number one mobster and red-tape remover, Lenny Cole (the brilliant Tom Wilkinson) as the type of guy who argues that, “there's no school like the old school and I'm the f***in' headmaster." Of course, like all amoral kingpins, Lenny wouldn't be half the criminal he is without his sidekick, Archy (Mark Strong) who teaches his subordinates the art of the perfect face slap “to transfer” those they rough up back to their childhood. Additionally we're also introduced to the ambitious lower-level underworld group called “The Wild Bunch” (Gerard Butler, Idris Elba and Tom Hardy) looking to get into the property racket for themselves.

Thrown into the mix we encounter “the very gifted and financially creative” accountant Stella, played by Thandie Newton who sizzles with sex appeal (not to mention as a woman-- the miraculous ability to sashay her hips without breaking them with each entrance and exit). It seems that Stella's dull life crunching numbers and living with a gay husband sans children finds her all to eager to seek adventure among The Wild Bunch. Using confidential information from her newest client and Lenny's newest acquaintance, the Russian billionaire, Uri (Karel Roden), Stella interferes, leaking details of bags filled with unprotected cash to Butler's Wild Bunch.

Predictably, violence ensues, supplanted by both financial greed as well as the whereabouts of a much coveted painting which Uri travels with and lets Lenny take for a while in the hopes it will bring him luck. When Uri's lucky painting brings unlucky incidents to everyone whose hands it falls into as it changes owners and wall-space throughout the entire movie (although like the glowing briefcase in Pulp Fiction-- itself an homage to Kiss Me Deadly-- we're never quite sure what it looks like), all involved become desperate to track it down.

Also missing is Lenny's rumored-to-be dead junkie rocker nephew-- Johnny Quid (Toby Kebbell) who is not only alive but hiding out for maximum profits via the third erroneous “death report” of the year. Spending his days scoring dope, listening to Joe Strummer while his record sales skyrocket and avoiding his American music producers (Jeremy Piven and Chris “Ludacris” Bridges), Quid becomes embroiled in his uncle's scheme when the painting falls into his hands as well.

As producer Susan Downey aptly describes the situation in the press release, the film contains all of Ritchie's loved trademarks or more specifically “the eclectic mix of characters, the interweaving storylines that dovetail in ways you didn't see coming, the fascinating ensemble cast, the energy, the distinct visual style...But I also think it has an unexpected emotional layer and depth that I think sets this film apart.”

Similarly, I would add that there's a level of maturity and a tongue-in-cheek or rather less-pretentious air about the film than some of his “boys only club” pictures prior to this one as one character reveals his crush on Gerard Butler in a great, unpredictable scene and we meet a hoodlum who loves to watch Merchant Ivory productions like The Remains of the Day while parked in the neighborhood in his SUV.

Balancing out the surprises is his love of shock and awe whether it's Ritchie's torture device involving American crayfish or poking gentle fun at his countrymen via a robbery so polite that Butler has no problem asking for the keys to a getaway vehicle. Likewise, he uses cinematic references throughout as one junkie unexpectedly misquotes Julie Andrews's much loved tune “The Sound of Music” with the phrase, “the streets are alive with the sound of pain.”

More tightly focused than Ritchie's recent work such as Revolver which was so impossible to understand and over-the-top that I quit watching after only thirty minutes, it's more modern and relevant than his other work in depicting the current state of London as Ritchie described as “the middle of the world in the sense that it's often the last place you go on your way to America, and it's the first place you arrive before you get to Europe.” With a skyline “that's been altered beyond recognition,” as Ritchie continued in the press notes that “if you go to the top of any tall building all you can see are cranes... it looks as though the cranes are breeding...” he decided he wanted to portray the way the “Eastern Bloc nations have gained capital and influence... [thereby changing] the rules of business... [and] the rules of engagement.”

While of course, it's a humorous and off-the-wall look at the situation where extremes and exaggerations serve to up the entertainment ante, it's a much more fascinating scope for the picture from the point-of-view as an American, which is one of the things that turned Piven onto accepting the role as revealed in the release. Intriguingly, in a fictitious landscape of crooked businessmen, mobsters, rock stars, politicians, and thieves, ironically the most innocent characters are the two American record producers trying to get make a name for themselves in the music business who only serve as a gateway from one group of characters to another.

Fast-paced, highly energetic and inventively shot by multiple award-winning cinematographer David Higgis (Cambridge Spies) and chopped by editor James Herbert (Black Book and James Bond's Die Another Day), the high-class look of the film is also aided by talented production designer Richard Bridgland (who began designing stage-work at American opera houses) and former graphic designer and fashion couture gown specialist Suzie Harman who was responsible for costuming the extraordinarily diverse cast.

Much better than I thought it would be-- intriguingly, this week finds two directors striving to return to form as Kevin Smith's Zack and Miri fails to capture the humor and freshness of his 90's work and Guy Ritchie not only reminds us why we were drawn in by him in Lock, Stock but also proves us how much he's grown.

A damn fine achievement and one where the ending reveals plans for a possible sequel, with a screen that names the characters still left standing who may return. Whether or not it's truly in the works is left to be discussed but if so, I for one am in the unique position of actually (for the first time ever) anticipating what's next from Mr. Guy Ritchie.

And man, I can't tell you how nice it is after years of studying film to be legitimately surprised by those who prove us wrong. A bloody-brilliant and jolly good show, as they say in England or as we'd probably say in the states, not only does it not suck but it also manages to kick a little ass at the same time. Rock on, RocknRolla.

W. (2008)

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"We were not out to demean or hurt the man. That is not the right motivation for me to direct. Too much time is involved. Who needs a negative mindset? We let the man speak it in his own words. We set out to show his reasoning for the Iraq War as a function of who he is, his personal history. The hope is when you can walk out of the movie, you say, 'I understand that guy. I may not agree or like the result, but I understand.' And that's drama. I can't say I liked Oedipus when I walked out of 'Oedipus,' I can't say I liked Agamemnon, I can't say I like many of the Greek heroes. Some of them are outright assholes. But you watch them, you follow their story. That's drama. It may be easier or more palatable to have a character with whom you sympathize-- studio executives love that word. But it's tricky: if we sympathize with everyone, we create a manufactured values system. It's much more interesting and real if you try to empathize and understand, if not always approve."

-- Director Oliver Stone on W. in the Lionsgate Press Release

There's a recurring metaphor running throughout director Oliver Stone's controversial biopic W. Opening the film and ultimately closing it, the avid-baseball fan and team owner George W. Bush (as portrayed by Josh Brolin) is way out in the outfield with his eyes on a pop-up ball heading straight towards him in center field, just out of reach. Stone has never been one to relish the joys of traditional narrative structure and instead symbolism, ingeniously ironic musical cues, and clever editing have always made their impact for better or for worse during his legendary career but this time, his eye is on the ball (if you'll excuse the cliche) in depicting what has spiraled into the decision and event that will become synonymous with W's name. Of course, specifically that is the Iraq war which has developed into such an incredibly complicated mess that no one, not even the man who made the decision to go in following 9/11 knows quite how to catch and stop it. There's no calling a time-out-- although this upcoming election will find us trading players with the possibility of a whole new starting lineup if (as I'm truly hoping) Obama is elected, what has happened has happened and Stone knows better than to try and tack on some sort of conclusion that would ultimately mean as little as W's "Mission Accomplished" speech.

W. is the type of film that Stone argued it would be from the beginning-- a fair and balanced, overwhelmingly even-handed and at times slightly too polite portrait of the President from a young man to the leader of the free world. It's one that I doubt he would've made in exactly the same manner in the early 1990's, although he managed to make one of the finest and most underrated films of his career with his masterful biopic about Richard Nixon, yet this time, running just under two hours, W. is also one of his most succinct fact-based works.

Independently financed long before a studio was on board to distribute, Stone and his longtime collaborator and Wall Street scripter Stanley Weiser decided around Christmas of 2007 that "if we didn't do the Bush movie at that moment, it wouldn't have been made, not for a long time." Striving for the "long-shot chance of getting W. out before the election," Stone wanted to fight against his belief noted in the release that "attention spans in this era, particularly as to history, seem to have the shelf life of a fruit fly."

While it's sure to divide critics and audiences, no matter which political party you're affiliated with or what you think of the man himself, Stone and Weiser managed to do the impossible of reading every single book available on the man himself as well as the Presidency and made the decision early on not to cover his entire life or every event during the eight years he served (and continues to serve) as Commander-in-Chief, specifically "focusing on that crucial era between October 2001 and March 2003, when he finally went to war with Iraq." Intriguingly Stone continued that, "not much was known about the Presidency during the 2000-2004 period because the Presidency was veiled and propagandized. But after 2004 there seems to have been increasing scholarship into the inner workings of the Bush Administration."

While the focal point is undoubtedly Iraq, W. does disappoint slightly (perhaps due to its hasty production) in not including more on not just the controversial, hot-button topic of the 2000 election as well as Hurricane Katrina, yet possibly this-- along with the curious neglect of the days following 9/11-- may have been because Stone either felt that Bush had already been so much in the media spotlight that we knew it all so well or that it's been covered before such as in Spike Lee's Katrina documentary When the Levees Broke.

Further citing the even-handedness of the screenplay, Jeffrey Wright (who quietly gives one of the film's best performances in an Oscar worthy turn as Colin Powell) cited that W. is much like Stone's World Trade Center "which had a similar type of balance and sophisticated tone," and Brolin who initially turned the project down both due to the subject and Stone's "very controversial reputation," instead discovered the screenplay left him "taken aback, moved... impassioned, really, because I was saddened by it. And above all, I identified with it."

Although it chronicles his young wild days surviving frat initiation at Yale, drinking and driving, bar brawling and rebelling against the family political dynasty until he became a born again Evangelical Christian at the age of 40, sobered up and went into the family business for himself, at its heart, W. takes a cue from the Greek tragedies cited by Stone in presenting the never-ending tug of war and battle for love and respect that occurs between fathers and sons. Whether he's feeling like the black sheep next to his picture-perfect brother Jeb or being told off repeatedly by his father (portrayed by James Cromwell) that he's deeply disappointed him, in depicting W's life story, we find out that what perhaps drove him more than anything was trying to prove his worth to his father.

While daddy-issue tales are nothing new and it's hardly the only individual who held sway over our 43rd president, it's a more relatable and humanistic approach to the man where the time line and the film's three distinct acts are all mixed together as we see the new version of the Bush family in his Presidency of others who may have wielded their power more than they should've in steering the leader in certain directions. Rounding out the cast we witness Richard Dreyfuss' wicked turn as Dick Cheney, Toby Jones' geeky, off-in-the-shadows Karl Rove, Scott Glenn's Donald Rumsfeld, Thandie Newton's Condoleeza Rice, Bruce McGill's George Tenet, Wright's Colin Powell, Stacy Keach's Earle Hudd, Rob Corddry's Ari Fleischer, Ellen Burstyn's Barbara Bush, and nice support by Elizabeth Banks as Laura Bush.

While the ads and marketing strategy have seemed to posture the film as a straight comedy and indeed there are some truly hilarious moments pulled right from actual events, more than that, it's a heartbreaking tragedy that goes beyond its initial SNL like characterizations that first kept me at an arm's length early on (especially as audience members laughed throughout Thandie Newton's first entire speech as Condi) and during Brolin's earliest scenes. And admittedly no doubt there will be much debate afterward over whether or not Stone went far enough or created a worthwhile enough portrait to justify its being made before the President has even ended his term in office (and regarding both issues-- I find I'm still torn). Not to mention, tons of discussion will ensue regarding whether it will have any resonant impact in the upcoming election as there were a few walkouts of bored young voting age attendees who may have learned far more about just how and why the war was waged if they'd adjusted their frame of mind from the promised "broad comedy" to the drama that surrounds the events.

Was it rushed? My, my, my yes as I felt like Stone was censoring himself in a few places and the overwhelming importance of the picture still seems to weigh heavily as the press release revealed that Stone's in the process of creating a website that "will include all the anecdotes and are mentioned in the film, their source and the rationale for how, why, and when we used them." Of course, all sources should be cited but this isn't the type of action one would've expected him to have taken years ago and sometimes it seems as though he reeled in his true intentions so much that there were a few loose threads that seemed to hang off the edge of the screen at times but politics aside and just as a film, it's an intimate, high quality and revealing look at a complicated man told in a way none of us were expecting.

While I predict it will do big business during its opening weekend given W's disastrous approval rating and an American population so tired of politics as usual, the true test of Stone's film will be if viewers are able to remain objective when presented not with the straight satire they were hoping but a very humane approach about an overwhelmingly controversial, morally and emotionally trying Presidency and war-- the results of which we're all suffering globally every day. Just like Stone's World Trade Center, it may be a little too soon to view with any real perspective since the wounds haven't yet healed (and they possibly never will) but cinematically I applaud the wonderfully executed effort and above all its fearless cast.