Batman Forever (1995)

COURAGE NOW... TRUTH ALWAYS...

Eager to keep the success of the Batman films going, Warner Bros. began the process of developing a third title. However, with the third film, there was a massive shake-up in how the films were made. Tim Burton was replaced as director by Joel Schumacher, though he did stay on as producer; Michael Keaton left the lead role, which was filled by Val Kilmer; the writing team was completely changed; new villains were brought in; and the whole tone and look of the franchise was shifted to something much different to the previous two. The reaction to the film was… mixed, with a bit more emphasis on dislike. As you’d expect, I’ll look at how these changes came to be before I talk about what the result was.

Batman (Val Kilmer) has his hands full fighting the criminal escapades of Harvey ‘Two-Face’ Dent (Tommy Lee Jones), former Gotham D.A. who blames the hero for the disfigurement that split his face and personality. Meanwhile, Edward Nygma (Jim Carrey), an inventor at Wayne Enterprises obsessed with Bruce Wayne, snaps after having his work shut down and begins leaving riddles his former boss. Both Two-Face and The Riddler team up to kill Batman and ruin Bruce Wayne. Added to this are the attentions of psychologist with a thing for Batman, Dr. Chase Meridian (Nicole Kidman), and Dick Grayson (Chris O’Donnell), an acrobat Bruce Wayne takes in after his parents are killed by Two-Face, but who discovers his secret.

Beyond the concerns of many critics and fans that didn’t like the first two films, there was a particular group whose complaints were heard: Parents. Obviously not all parents, but specifically those who objected the darkness of the previous films, saying that they were unable to take their children to see such films. Warner Bros., who generally believed the darkness of Batman Returns to be the reason it under-performed, took their comments on board because this was a firm chance for them to respond directly to audience opinion and make the film more marketable, opening the films up to a younger audience and with an eye on more lucrative and widespread opportunities in the toy market. The decision for these changes to take effect was handed down from on high, which then caused a major reshuffle in the production line-up. As you may have read in the last review, Burton was hesitant about doing even a second film, and was a bit more so for a third time out. What effectively sealed his leaving the director’s chair was the mandate to lighten things up, make them more colourful, more approachable for a younger audience. Although he has done some work, before and since, that had a campy feel to it, he was unwilling to make these changes to the world he had established and vacated the position, although he stayed with the project as a producer. To fill the role, Warner Bros. hired Joel Schumacher, whose most recent films (Falling Down and The Client) had done well, and who agreed to drastically shift the overall tone and feel of the project.

When Schumacher came on board, he brought with him Akiva Goldsman, the primary writer of his most recent adapted work The Client. Goldsman teamed with Lee Batchler and Janet Scott-Batchler, who had been brought on earlier to develop a story. Originally, when Burton was still considered the director of the project, the Riddler was the only villain in the film, but when Schumacher came on board, he chose to add Two-Face to the mix. It was also decided to finally introduce Robin to the films. When Tim Burton stepped back, Danny Elfman also did not return, in favour of Elliot Goldenthal. Director of photography duties were also handed to Stephen Goldblatt.

The casting also had a major shake. When Michael Keaton learned that such major changes were to be made to the new film, he decided to leave the project completely (though there were rumours that he asked for a major pay raise, and was turned down). This led to the casting of Val Kilmer, still riding the plaudits from his work as Doc Holliday in Tombstone. In fact, most of the roles were filled by people who were very hot property at the time, like Chris O’Donnell, Nicole Kidman, Jim Carrey, and Tommy Lee Jones, who had also worked on The Client with Schumacher.

Well, those were the most significant changes to the production. How did they fare?

There’s a word that comes up in Batman Forever at least three times, used by a different character each time. A word that is never used in either Batman or Batman Returns. A word that goes a long way to explaining a lot about the approach to this project as opposed to the other two. The word is “Superhero”. With that word, there comes a world of implication, of imagery, an expectation of a particular sensibility that can only be described as “comic booky”. The visualisation, the styling, the manner of how the characters act and relate is all drawn from this one word and everything that runs through it. What’s even more strange is that it seems like the word has been introduced into the series’ vocabulary not just to take advantage of audience expectations, but also to mock and satirise it. When Grayson claims to be Batman and tries to save a girl from a gang, she says to him, “Doesn’t Batman ever kiss the girl?” They kiss, the music swells in a rather insincere manner and then the fight continues. They’ve purposely acknowledged the whole superhero thing just so they can make fun of it, and that just leaves a bad taste behind.

The story has returned to a campy, over the top manner that the TV series adopted in the 1960s and that the previous films actively tried to distance themselves from. The primary narrative drive comes from the Riddler building a giant “box” through which he can steal people’s thoughts, memories and ideas. Right away, this is a million miles away from the more realistic concerns of the Joker, who just wanted to kill people, and the Penguin, who wanted to steal an election and rise to power. And whilst we’re talking about this, over how long a period does this film take place? It would take a very long time for Edward Nygma to build his company, manufacture products, have them in every household, build his giant island complete with death-traps… Seriously, there’s only one mention as to what time of year one particular scene occurs (Halloween), but even that’s just a trite plot device to get the Riddler and Two-Face into Wayne Manor. The part of teaming the Riddler and Two-Face to kill Batman itself is really just an excuse for destructive action scenes. Then there’s Bruce Wayne’s remarkably unsubtle psychological breaks, which have him randomly spouting lines about his parents being murdered right in front of him and how he promised it would never happen to anyone again and how he wanted to strike fear into the hearts of blah blah blah blah blah… good lord. Then there’s the convenient arrival in town of a hot psychologist with an interest in Batman. The actual introduction of Dick Grayson is probably the plotline most competently handled, although the manner in which he finds out Bruce Wayne’s secret and becomes Robin is hamfisted nonsense.

There’s also a use of the most ridiculous pop psychology. Psychological terms like “neuroses” and “scarred psyche” and “alternate personality” are dropped in every now and then to make it seem like it all makes sense, explaining the careful construction of each character’s motivation, but it’s all just surface. A moment like when Wayne sees a bat in a Rorschach test is played to have way more significance than it actually does. Even then, this notion of split identity, with Two-Face and Batman and Chase and that little sleep doll thing, was territory already covered by Batman Returns, and much better.

The characters themselves have simply become caricatures. Batman is still brooding, but he’s no longer the darkly introspective type. He has suddenly developed a desire to openly discuss his traumatic past. This immediately sets itself in opposition to the character of the first two films. In Keaton’s Bruce Wayne/Batman, he was a fairly dark guy, but he at least owned his own trauma and used it to drive him forward. Here, he seems to be just looking for an excuse to tell someone about it. He’s also been given more one-liners to make it more fun for the youngsters (“Can I persuade you to take a sandwich with you, sir?” “I’ll get drive-thru.”). Really, who is this guy? As it is, Val Kilmer does his job perfectly adequately, but that’s part of the problem. He portrays Bruce Wayne as written, but nothing more. He delivers the one-liners well, gets the humour and holds a nice charm, but he’s always much more convincing as Bruce Wayne than Batman, mainly because he’s never really a threatening presence, which is what Batman is meant to be.

For someone who is meant to be the living embodiment of split personality, Two-Face doesn’t have one personality, let alone two. He’s meant to be driven by revenge, but controlled by the whims of chance, hence the constant flipping of a coin, however this is just adopted as an affect rather than a compulsion. There’s a moment where he sits on a couch, flipping the coin to see if he will shoot Bruce Wayne or not. He flips; it lands on the good side. Annoyed by this, he continues to do it until he gets the bad side, where he then promptly pulls out his gun and shoots… this isn’t Two-Face. When the Riddler tells him that he has a “serious impulse control problem”, this is a clear indication that the writers have fundamentally misunderstood the character. Two-Face has supreme impulse control - the coin always makes the decision; he just acts on what it tells him, regardless of what happens. And Tommy Lee Jones is quite bad, spending the whole movie over-acting to the point of aneurysm, desperately chasing Jack Nicholson’s show in Batman. For such a usually bankable actor, this is a far cry from what we know he can do.

The Riddler is also one that has been rather misrepresented. He begins the film in a manner that’s rather appropriate: highly intelligent, massive ego, huge inferiority complex. However, things change as the film continues. Part of the Riddler’s personality was always that he believed he was smarter than everyone else and sought to prove it over and over again, hence all the puzzles. For his plan to revolve around making himself more intelligent by stealing other people’s minds is ridiculously over the top and somewhat contrary to his regular modus operandi. What’s even stranger is how he decides on his Riddler persona. When he first uses his machine on his supervisor and discovers its brain-enhancing power, he yells at him “Riddle me this!”… okay, fair enough. After this, he leaves two separate riddles for Bruce Wayne, each in envelopes adorned with a question mark… once again, okay. However, it’s only after this that he decides on both his costume and name. Why wasn’t that the first thing he thought of? Why did he consider the Puzzler (dressed in crossword robes), the Gamester (dressed as a giant chess piece) and Captain Kill (dressed in army fatigues) before deciding to name himself after the very puzzle he has already used and dressing like the question mark-covered figure that sits in his apartment and workstation? It’s bizarre. Jim Carrey does at least give you something to watch without being too grating, though that line is crossed a few times.

Dick Grayson is… well, he’s okay actually. His motivation is clear, and can at least be both sympathetic and a bit of dick. He’s impulsive, brave, strong-willed, though often infuriating in his ability to not think things through… so, he’s a pretty decent portrait of a young man with vengeance on his mind. It’s rather a shame that he never has any decent moments after actually putting on the Robin costume. Seriously, go and watch it. Before he gets his new duds and cape, he’s adept and handy; afterwards, he makes a bad joke, crashes a boat, gets beaten, kidnapped and then rescued. Weird, isn’t it? Chris O’Donnell’s performance is actually pretty well suited to the brash young man, though this does mean he becomes kind of an ass to the audience.

And Dr. Chase Meridian is, well, she’s quite fickle and a bit of a tramp. Yes, she’s smart because she’s a doctor and she’s tough because she knocks hell out of punch bag in her office, but the most prominent personality trait that shines through is that she’s really quite promiscuous and indecisive. She doesn’t know if she wants Batman or Bruce Wayne, generally deciding she wants to be with the one who isn’t there. And Kidman looks very pretty… that’s about all you can say.

Joel Schumacher’s handling of the film, though no doubt in keeping with what Warner Bros. wanted (i.e. an enormous toy advert), is such a visual and aural assault that it’s difficult to think of where to start. Put in the most all-encompassing terms, it all looks like a cartoon. The colours are all neons and piercing lights, so it’s like Gotham has relocated itself to the main dance floor of a nightclub; action scenes, and some regular ones, are filled with inane stings and sound effects, like tings and squelches and boings; and the character design is ludicrous. One of the most regularly decried decisions was to put nipples on the Batsuit, and it’s a fair complaint. Schumacher said that he wanted to give the suit a more “anatomical” look, which is all well and good but makes no sense in the practicality of the film world. Imagine the conversation between Bruce and Alfred on the reality of that choice:

            Bruce: Alfred, I’ve decided I want nipples on the Batsuit.

            Alfred: What for, sir?

            Bruce: I want it to look more anatomical.

            Alfred: Well, Master Wayne, in that case, how about I put a bellybutton on it,

too?

            Bruce: Well, I…

            Alfred: And perhaps some eyebrows on the face? And some people ears?

How about a birthmark for good measure? You’re meant to be a symbol of

fear to the criminal underworld, not a freaking go-go dancer. You tossbag.

The same goes for the decision to give Robin an earring to “make him look hip.” Okay, kids may think he looks like a rebel, but all it takes is one evildoer to rip the thing off in a fight and he’ll be in trouble. Again, it’s a decision that holds little practical weight in the reality being presented. And when it’s more plausible for a street gang to go around caked in neon face paint than it is for a particular character to wear an earring, you know there’s a problem somewhere.

There are some things Schumacher did better than Burton. As I have said before, Burton was never particularly adept with action sequences, but Schumacher is. The fights and chases do look much faster and more dynamic, although the first fight sequence has an editing rhythm more suited to punching the audience than Henchman #3. However, giving it its due, compared to the previous films, this one is much more explosive and fast-paced. It’s just that everything that surrounds these scenes is pretty bad.

Really, the worst thing you could do before watching Batman Forever is watch the previous two Batman films, since it just highlights the massive gap in style and approach. By comparison, this film comes off as noisy, stupid, cheap and kind of heartless. Even when taken on its own terms, it still falls flat with absurd characterisation, a ridiculously overblown story and a general style that makes it all feel so flippant and disposable. The toys that were sold on the back of this film were more solidly made than this.

Bad Boys (1995)

WHATCHA GONNA DO?

We all know about the buddy cop movie formula, right? That thing where two mismatched individuals get put together to solve a crime within an allotted time limit, where their initial hostility towards each other is overcome by working together on a common problem. Both don’t even have to be cops for it to work. It can be Cop/Cop (Lethal Weapon), Cop/Criminal (48 Hrs), Cop/Child (Cop and a Half), Cop/Dog (Turner & Hooch), Cop/Alien (Alien Nation)… as long as they have two conflicting personalities, then it’s all good. For the feature debut of Michael Bay, he turned his hand to this type of story. Two cops: one family man; one playboy. For this, they brought together two of the hippest comedy actors to let the bullets and cool quips fly.

When a massive amount of drugs is stolen directly from police headquarters, Detectives Marcus Burnett (Martin Lawrence) and Mike Lowery (Will Smith) are given 72 hours to find those responsible and get the drugs back before the Internal Affairs division steps in. When a friend of Mike’s winds up being killed by the very people responsible, a witness comes forward, Julie Mott (Téa Leoni), but she’ll only deal with Mike. When Mike isn’t around, Marcus is forced to pretend to be Mike to secure the witness and find their way to the bad guys.

There’s something of a weird journey as to how Bad Boys came to being. The legendary producer partnership of Jerry Bruckheimer and Don Simpson was working on a property called Bulletproof Hearts, a cop buddy movie comedy set to star Dana Carvey and Jon Lovitz, who were both riding high on their popularity on Saturday Night Live. Both actors were all ready to get things rolling, but before they got started, Simpson wanted to take them both to Las Vegas for a celebratory blowout, a big party to mark the beginnings of their journey. Now, for those that don’t know, Don Simpson was renowned for his wild excess and hedonistic extravagance. Believe me, if only a quarter of the stories I’ve read about him are true, the guy was a lunatic. Such was his apparently wild ways that Carvey backed out completely, wanting nothing to do with Simpson. This threw the project back down again, leaving Bruckheimer and Simpson to begin searching for their lead pair again, since Lovitz had already begun to lose some of his popularity by this point. As it is, they weren’t exactly broken up about the experience. They had similar problems with another project about 10 years before with Sylvester Stallone… but we’ll get to that one on another day. So, they went on the hunt for new stars, and to find a director to bring them a big box office smash - enter Michael Bay.

This was indeed Michael Bay’s first feature film, although he wasn’t exactly struggling to break into the industry when someone decided to take a chance on an enthusiastic youngster. Bay was already a very successful director of music videos and television commercials when Bruckheimer and Simpson tapped him for the job. Likely they were both very impressed with his visual style and flair (it’s the one thing even the most avid Bay-hater must concede), though I imagine it was Simpson who felt most drawn to Bay’s talent for heavy stylisation and excess. However, it’s clearly in film that he wanted to work, the place where everything can be bigger. When Bay came aboard, he became quite instrumental in assembling the right pieces for the picture, and helping to point things in the right direction. Yes, for all of his inanity, he really can set a fine table before blowing the merry hell out of it. For example, it was Bay’s choice to bring Will Smith on board, which automatically increased the cool credibility and style of the film by about 42%. When both Smith and Martin Lawrence were solidified as the new leads, the script was rewritten to reflect the new talent on offer. However, that’s where things fall flat.

The script is either stupid, dull or just by-the-numbers. As I mentioned before, Bad Boys is a buddy cop movie, but never strays from this formulaic approach. This could be because it had to be rewritten for a whole new approach and new actors, so they simply fell back on cliché and stock characters to pad things out and get it finished. And it’s so unnecessarily complicated and stupid. Go back up and read that plot synopsis for a second… Drugs stolen directly from police headquarters, which required someone to dress as a cop only to be killed as a distraction? Why? The murder attracts one helicopter and a few patrol cars, which is hardly representative of a whole police force. The actual robbery itself is complete bullshit. For example, when the thieves want to get into the evidence cage, it’s locked with a padlock and chain. As such, they spray the padlock with a freezing substance and shatter it. However, the thing they use to shatter the lock is a bolt-cutter, which could have broken the padlock just as easily. Later on, a hooker friend of one of the investigating detectives is murdered by the same people responsible. When the bad guy, Fouchet, shoots her, he does it through a cushion to muffle the sound. However, he then orders one of his own men shot, but no cushion is used. When the gang spot Julie hiding in the balcony above, they all start blasting away, sans silencers. If you didn’t care about the noisy gunfire, why bother with the cushion in the first place? And why leave such clear evidence of the drugs heist in the room when you leave? When Mike discovers his friend’s death, he has a more personal motivation in finding the killer, because it’s not enough that he should just want to do his job. But then why have his whole speech about how seriously he takes the job? Surely this would be the golden opportunity to prove, once and for all, that he is more dedicated than anyone to catching criminals. This personal angle is unnecessary, formulaic and compromises this earlier scene. Giving him his due, though, even Bay hated the script, telling both Smith and Lawrence to improvise around the gist of what the film needed rather than follow the dialogue they had been given.

The characters themselves are all straight out of the handbook on hack writing. Comically mismatched partners? Check. Gruff, angry Captain who yells a lot? Check. Foreign bad guy? Check. Internal Affairs breathing down everyone’s neck? Check. One cop always going on about how he sees so little of his wife? Check. If it weren’t for the strong and energetic performances from Will Smith and Martin Lawrence, this would be one dry film. However, one of the biggest crimes is the character of Julie Mott, played by Téa Leoni. She is skull-crushingly stupid. After having just seen her best friend murdered in front of her eyes, she calls the cops to say that she will only testify if she deals exclusively with a detective she has never seen (though he has been vaguely described to her), and if she doesn’t get this, she’ll run… I’m sorry, what? I understand the need to find a safe place, but she just said she’s basically letting her friend’s murderer get away. Considering she spends the rest of the movie crying about how she loved her friend, or trying to get people to acknowledge the tragedy, or trying to get her own revenge, deciding that she’s going to up sticks unless she gets her way is just bizarre. In the scene where she decides to follow the detectives into a bar where the bad guys hang out and kill them herself is idiotic on its own, but to then spend the ensuing gunfight and car chase screaming about how ‘this isn’t safe’ is a stupidity that is just jaw-dropping. She actually yells at Mike and Marcus, who are busy dodging bullets and other cars at the time, “You call this protective custody?” No, they don’t call this protective custody. They told you to stay safely ensconced at Mike’s place. Just stay there, that’s it. You decided to steal a gun and follow them into the crowded, noisy bullet-fest. And every time they tell her to stay put, she wanders off, complaining that’s she being treated more like a prisoner than the one that's responsible for the death of her best blah blah blah blah… goddamn, I’m sick of it. And there’s such a weird ambiguity to some parts. There are times where you think that perhaps she knows that Mike and Marcus have swapped places, but this occasionally gives the feeling that she’s not exactly the nicest of people. Back at Mike’s place with Marcus, post-gunfight, she alludes to the whole endeavour making her feel a bit horny, which then segues into her talking about how Mike’s “wife” will likely be getting satisfied by such a strong, take-charge kind of man. Now, it could be that she honestly doesn’t know, and is just babbling about all this, in which case she really is an idiot. Or, as the slight smirk on Leoni’s face would suggest, she does know, and is just messing with Marcus’ mind because… she’s kind of a cruel bitch. The guy has literally just saved your life and got you to a safehouse, and your reaction is to suggest to him that his friend is having sex with his wife? What the hell is wrong with you?

I could go on, but I’ll stop now to make my more general point. All of these details - the crappy characterisation, the idiotic plotting, the abysmal dialogue, the overall desire to make things look good rather than make sense - go towards establishing something rather common in Michael Bay films, which I harped on about quite a bit in talking about Armageddon. Bay’s films only work if you disengage your brain completely from what you’re watching. Now, I’m fine with big silly entertainment, but there is a big difference between silly and stupid. I know that, sometimes all you want is for something to wash over you, go boom-bang-zoom-splat and that’s the end of it. However, with Michael Bay’s work, by using even a little common sense or a modicum of logic on proceedings, you end up completely unravelling everything. The best you can hope for are some nice visuals and a heavy dose of onscreen charisma. If you get it, great; but if you don’t, it’s a hollow, disposable nothing. You can get some entertainment from these films, but they ultimately take from you much more than they give.

Bad Boys is sort of enjoyable enough as a dumb action movie, but it really can only exist as such. Despite a great show from the two leads, as well as a handful of good supporting turns, particularly from Joe Pantoliano, the whole thing is blitheringly stupid. The story is unnecessarily convoluted, numerous shots and actions make absolutely no sense, and the character of Julie is so unbelievably brainless that it’s amazing to believe that such a character made it onscreen without at least one person raising concerns. Once again, it’s a Michael Bay movie that requires the absolute least amount of cerebral activity. Just watch, laugh, and smile giddily when things go boom and we’ll see you all for Bad Boys II… oh Christ.

Apollo 13 (1995)

"HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PROBLEM."

There was a time when the whole world looked to the skies in the spirit of adventure and hope, not for reasons of religion, but because mankind had shaken off the bonds of Earth and travelled beyond the limits of our atmosphere – space exploration had begun. Though this spawned the rather paranoia-tainted Space Race between the US and Russia, both trying to conquer the outer limits first, the advances of humanity were of greater import. In 1969, this led to one of the truly great achievements of the 20^th Century (or any Century) as the crew of Apollo 11 landed on the surface of the moon. There, astronaut Neil Armstrong produced one of the most famous quotes in history: “That’s one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind.” In 1970, the world would receive another now famous quote from another Apollo space mission: “Houston, we’ve had a problem.”

Less than a year after man first walked on the Moon, Apollo 13 was sent back on another lunar-landing mission. However, before the craft even got there, a catastrophic technical malfunction effectively crippled them. Stranded hundreds of thousands of miles from Earth, the Apollo 13 flight crew, Jim Lovell (Tom Hanks), Fred Haise (Bill Paxton) and Jack Swigert (Kevin Bacon), and the NASA technicians fight desperately to bring the craft back to life and bring the astronauts home safely.

Before we even begin to look at the mission at the heart of this story, we are told of a previous mission that went horribly wrong, Apollo 1, which killed its three crew members. The point is being made very clearly – tragedy can happen at anytime, even to those who prepare for it. If there’s one thing that the film of Apollo 13 wants to do in the first forty-five minutes or so, it’s build up a sense of foreboding, a sense of sinister premonition, a sense that this mission was doomed from the start. It’s something that some of the superstitious folk among us have often said about the Apollo 13 mission itself. There’s the fact that it was the 13^th mission in the Apollo program, that it launched at 19:13pm (13:13 by North American Central Standard Time), that the rupture of the oxygen tanks occurred on the 13^th of April (again, Central Standard Time), that there was a change in the crew a week before blast-off. The film itself builds on this by highlighting other things, too. Crew Commander Lovell’s wife lost her wedding ring down the shower drain before the launch date. Lovell’s car had been having some technical difficulties recently and stalling without warning. These ominous concerns were not lost on the crew, who joked about breaking mirrors and black cats and walking under ladders in preparation for the flight. It doesn’t matter whether or not you’re a superstitious person or not (I’m certainly not), because the film does makes its point that some of these characters may be somewhat superstitious themselves, even if it’s merely a case of not wanting to tempt fate. For example, Gene Kranz, the no-nonsense flight director, maintains a simple ritual of wearing a crisp white waistcoat with mission patch on the lapel for the duration of the assignment.

Although these nods towards less rational sensibilities are important, they take up only a little bit of time in the build up to the film’s central crisis. Much more attention is paid towards the establishment of the characters who must deal with it when it comes. Working from a script by William Broyles Jr. and Al Reinert, director Ron Howard develops a fine array of individuals for us to follow along this perilous journey. Jim Lovell was part of the Apollo 8 mission, the first to orbit the moon, though never got a chance to actually walk on its surface. We feel his awe of such a feat, his sense of mild disappointment that he got so close before without touching it, his humble joy at finally being given the chance to achieve his goal. His wife, Marilyn, is so loving and supportive of her husband and his dreams. She’s a veteran of watching her husband go off into space, so she also remains a firm support for other wives who are new to the whole experience, although she is still uneasy about it herself. Fred Haise is a family man and southern country boy, a fun guy of simple tastes, a little rough around the edges, but a fine pilot. Ken Mattingly is a straight arrow and a driven perfectionist, always pushing himself to get it right. Jack Swigert is a ladies man, a slight outsider as the late addition to the crew, and also with great flight skills and instinct. Gene Kranz is a man who commands respect, but through an understated resolve and calm under pressure. The film builds these characters, and their families (or lack of), so well that when things start to go wrong, you are completely invested and feel genuinely taken by their plight. As things progress, the characters are treated with a great dignity and respect, their actions developed with tight and utterly believable motivations. Even better is that no one is ever given to the overly dramatic bouts of hysteria, with someone eventually cracking up, screaming and crying that they don’t want to die up here. It’s made very clear that these people are who they are and where they are precisely because of their heroic levels of self-control, that they know their best chance to survive is to remain composed and work together. We should all be so controlled as these people.

Howard is also well aware that the greatest dramatic draw is the crisis itself. Of course, how could it not be? A less assured director would have perhaps tried to cram in more subplots and storylines underneath the main one in order to add even greater weight and complexity to the piece. It speaks greatly that Howard did not do such a thing. The film is complex enough, built out of a tight sense the technical issues that must be tackled on Earth, and the delicate relationship of the three men on board the ship. The level of technical detail itself is enough to create a heavy sense of realism, making it all so absorbing. The script is full of technical jargon and astro-speak, but it never overwhelms the audience, still remaining somehow accessible, even if just in a basic sense. It’s from this kind of realism and adherence to detail that we get some moments of drama and concern in the film. When the crew have to turn off most of their equipment in the hope of conserving battery life and fuel, the possibility for the condensation build-up to short out the electrical instruments becomes another concern to deal with. It’s really a case of one thing leading to another, and it makes for really great drama.

And it’s not even just in the technical side of things that there’s a great sense of detail. The period is evoked so well, with the fashions, the music, the cars. Lovell’s eldest daughter initially doesn’t want to watch her father’s flight broadcasts (all before the disaster strikes, of course) because she’s so upset that The Beatles have broken up. That actually happened, the day before Apollo 13 launched. It’s the small details throughout the film that make it all so immersive and wonderful to watch.

The cast do a superb job throughout. Tom Hanks is able to bring his typical Everyman-ness to Lovell, but yet still make him someone of great poise and character. Ed Harris’ Gene Kranz is a performance of superb control and reserve, delivering lines like “Failure is not an option” with great solid conviction. Kathleen Quinlan also gives a great show, steering clear of the weepy astronaut’s wife thing, showing a core of strength and restraint. She’s not above letting the tears come, but she knows better than to let them take over. Paxton, Bacon and Sinise provide great support, too.

Apollo 13 is a genuinely thrilling, tense and really rather emotional experience, which remains unaffected by whether or not you know how it all turns out. The direction is firmly controlled and incredibly well detailed, with solid performances from everyone involved. It’s often overlooked or forgotten about today, but this is an exhilarating experience and a fine tribute to those involved in a great pursuit of exploration.

The American President (1995)

WHY CAN’T THE MOST POWERFUL MAN IN THE WORLD HAVE THE ONE THING HE WANTS MOST?

In 1992, there was a film called A Few Good Men. Written by Aaron Sorkin, first as a play and then a screenplay, and directed by Rob Reiner, the film was a huge hit. It was thrilling, intelligent, dramatic and carried a satisfying weight of political discourse and idealistic consideration. It also garnered four Oscar nominations, one of which was for Jack Nicholson thundering performance. A few years later, after Reiner had a career stumble thanks to an almighty disaster with North, he hooked up again with Sorkin for his next politically centred script. This time, it was a romantic comedy about the US President’s attempts to win over a girl he likes… sort of a When President Harry Met Sally.

Andrew Shepherd (Michael Douglas) is a widower raising a young daughter. He’s also President of the United States. Whilst working out a new environmental bill, he meets Sydney Ellen Wade (Annette Bening), a paid political activist working for an environmental lobby group. He instantly takes a liking to her and the pair start dating. However, with not long to go before the next election, this new relationship leads his prime political opponent, Senator Bob Rumson (Richard Dreyfuss), to launch an attack on the President’s character.

When The American President came out in 1995, it was pretty much free of anything to which it could be readily compared, outside of classic Capra movies or director Reiner’s back catalogue. However, by today’s standards of comparison, there is one thing that casts an almighty shadow over The American President. It’s another one of Aaron Sorkin’s creations… The West Wing. I’m a huge fan of The West Wing, which still remains one of the most intelligent, dramatic and funny television shows ever. That both properties are Sorkin products set in the White House isn’t where the similarities end. The American President is full of points that crop up in The West Wing, clear indicators of a future project being tested. For example, at one point, President Shepherd makes the point that he studied under a Nobel prize-winning economist. In The West Wing, President Bartlet is a Nobel prize-winning economist. That’s just one example of many. And the cast is strewn with actors who would go on to hold major roles in The West Wing. Martin Sheen, Anna Deavere Smith, Nina Siemaszko, Beau Billingslea, Joshua Malina, Ralph Meyering Jr., Thom Barry… there’s likely others, all of whom serve as regular reminders of a product that surpasses this one. Now, it certainly isn’t fair to this film to compare it to a product that wouldn’t exist until four years after it was released. Nevertheless, there’s no escaping that those familiar with the TV show will find this film slightly lacking. It’s a shame, because it’s a very good film.

Sorkin’s script is solid, and contains all of his trademark smart dialogue, political savvy, and the equal balance of idealism and realism that is something of a trademark of a Sorkin product. Now, all of that makes it seem like this is a far more political picture than it really is. Fittingly enough, it’s the tentative relationship between Shepherd and Wade that provide the simple heart for the piece. It’s simple enough stuff, but it’s carried with a nice degree of wit and charm. The political stuff is really there to add conflict and a depth to proceedings. There are some nicely refreshing touches throughout the film, too. In any other film of this ilk, with a single father taking his first steps into the dating world, the child would often be a concern, the cliché running that they would be a ball of frustrated emotion, crying about how their dad is trying to forget their mother, leading to a scene where the father has to calm them down and tell them that they would never forget their mother and blah blah blah. In this film, Shepherd’s daughter isn’t that way at all. She’s actually very well adjusted, happy to see her dad looking to find someone again. It’s these kinds of evasions of stock situations that set this film apart from others in a very agreeable manner.

Reiner’s direction aims his eye well, managing to draw out the classical characteristics of the script, so there’s a definite Capra-esque quality to the whole. He does well to see that the political aspects don’t bog down the romantic storyline, as well as making sure the romantic side of things doesn’t cheapen the political considerations that drive the conflict of the film. There may be the odd bit that seems a little hokey in this respect (John Seale’s cinematography has the light deliberately catching the eyes of Bening in moments of intimacy), but these can be overlooked when taking in the overall feeling. Marc Shaiman’s music is also wonderfully evocative of the classic sense of romantic notions, both of the heart and the body politic.

The cast do very well, with several standouts. Michael J. Fox’s Lewis Rothschild is full of fiery idealism, striving to make changes for the good, and pissed off if unsuccessful; Martin Sheen’s steady and calming A.J. MacInerney is a solid presence; Richard Dreyfuss’ Senator Rumson is a suitably shifty and smug individual; and Michael Douglas ably carries a sense of dignity and charm as President Shepherd. However, it’s Bening that gives the best performance. She nimbly shifts from astute political operator to girl who both woos and is wooed and back to the political side again. It’s great stuff. She also, alongside Sheen, has the best ear for Sorkin’s sharp and fast dialogue. It’s always a mark of Sorkin’s character’s intelligence that they can not only speak with great verbal dexterity, but also do so convincingly at great speed and Bening gets this. Also, Bening and Douglas do make a very appealing couple.

Despite now having to live in the shadow of The West Wing, The American President is a fine film, both warm and intelligent. Performances are strong throughout, the dialogue is great and it has a sturdy backbone in romance and politics, which go together here very well. It’s a solid show all round.

Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls (1995)

NEW ANIMALS. NEW ADVENTURES. SAME HAIR.

So, as we covered yesterday, 1994 gave the world Ace Ventura: Pet Detective. It was a huge success, raked in lots at the box office and made a star of Jim Carrey. One year later, and they were back for more, under a new writer and director, but bringing Carrey back to reprise the title role in… Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls.

At the request of the African consulate, Ace Ventura (Jim Carrey) is drawn out of a self-imposed exile in a remote Himalayan monastery and travels to the Dark Continent to help track down a sacred white bat and stop an impending war between two tribes.

I vaguely remembered thinking it was okay when it came out, but I was 12.  I’ll just flat out say that I didn’t particularly care for this film now. As such, it’s probably prudent to go into the reasons why I did not care for it, and why it’s perhaps not really worth your time either.

Firstly, the script is an absolute nightmare of poor character development, ridiculous padding and plot conveniences that are an insult to all. Rather than the writers from the original film coming back, the job was given to Steve Oedekerk. Oedekerk, best known perhaps for his comedy shorts involving thumbs (Bat Thumb, Frankenthumb, The Blair Thumb, Thumbtanic, you get the idea), is possessed of a comedic sensibility that’s based on absurdly broad strokes and easy stereotypes. That’s not to say he’s never funny, because he can be, but it often comes from a cheap place. As you’d expect from the title, When Nature Calls is cut from the same cloth. There’s just no kind of logic or sense anywhere, precisely because of this cheap laugh strategy, so holes just crop up everywhere. For example, Ventura is promised a $20,000 payment to find the bat, which he does consider. If that kind of money can sway him, where in the hell did he get a full-size robot rhino? That probably cost quite a bit of money in itself. Did he build it? Did he steal it? For another example, when Ventura compares two different darts that he was shot with, he sees, just by looking at them, that they were made from two different types of tree that come from different parts of the jungle… how does he know that? He only arrived a few days ago, which is hardly enough time to acquaint himself with indigenous trees, let alone their specific locations. Hell, the guy he was with was a native tribesman who had lived there his whole life, and he didn’t see this. For yet another example, when a huge herd of various animals storm the consulate, there’s lions and elephants and monkeys and a skunk… wait, what? A skunk? In Africa? No, no, this is just ridiculous. Skunks are found in Indonesia or the Americas, not anywhere in the Dark Continent. These are just the small examples. A bigger one would be: why was Ventura hired in the first place? He actually does ask this question, and is told that he was brought in to give the appearance of an effort to try and stop the war. Couldn’t you just have hired someone else? Someone not as good, but easier to find? They literally went to the ends of the Earth to find the guy, when it would have been easy enough to say, “Well, we tried to find him, but he’s nowhere to be found. However, we do have the number for this other guy, Buck Michaelson: Animal Locator…” These points, and so many more besides, just show that Oedekerk really screwed the pooch on the story here… and I didn’t even mention the inane Cliffhanger parody as the film’s opener.

It’s also borne of a great misunderstanding of the comedy coming from this kind of character that made the first film work. Ace Ventura is a ridiculous character, deliberately the most outlandish and insane person in any room. The kind of guy that makes everyone uncomfortable because he makes everywhere he goes his own personal playground. He doesn't fit in anywhere, so he can go anywhere. As such, trying to make him the centre of a ‘fish-out-of-water’ type story puts everything off to a very bad start. The character is further confused by making him more aggressive in his love of animals, physically attacking people who so much as think of mistreating animals. It might as well be called Ace Ventura: Agent of PETA. The character gets muddled even further by taking this well-established lover of all animals and making him both terrified and disgusted by the creature he’s been brought in to find. This isn’t interesting character depth or a great flaw to overcome… this is bullshit. This is character so inconsistent that it borders on schizophrenia.

Now for direction. Originally, Tom DeCerchio was put in the director’s chair, but he left shortly after shooting began for reasons that I don’t know. As such, the duties were handed to… Steve Oedekerk. Sadly, his direction is as ham-fisted as his writing. Rather than adopt Shadyac’s uninspired, but at least well-suited approach to the first film, Oedekerk’s camera tries to grab cheap laughs anywhere along the way ('look at the silly monkey'), and he seems to have given instructions to his actors to the effect of, “Bigger! More reaction! I don’t want to see a hint of nuance on that screen!” And the editing rhythm and continuity is a joke.

Jim Carrey gives just as committed a performance here as he does in the first film, but this is really for two reasons: 1) He is a professional; and 2) He was paid an absolute shitload of money to be in it. Since the first film came out, his career skyrocketed. He didn’t have to do this film and, in fact, it would probably have been advisable to not bother. However, as I said, his fee was colossal – $5 million. Who wouldn’t say yes to that?

The rest of the cast, regrettably, are strewn with great actors who are inexplicably lowering themselves to be in this nonsense. Simon Callow, Ian McNeice, Bob Gunton and Sophie Okonedo are all fine actors, each of them above this. It’s more understandable in Okonedo’s case, since this was her second feature and it was at least a high profile gig for her, so she did well from it. However, Oedekerk’s broad sensibility means they spend most of their time in stereotype mode, which just makes them look a bit uncomfortable. McNeice suffers from this the most.

Where the original outing was merely silly and pretty harmless, Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls is insultingly stupid. The script is so full of holes you could put the Nostromo through them, the direction is clumsy and desperate, the whole premise is completely misconceived and it’s simply nowhere near as funny as the first one. More than that, there is a shocking waste of talent onscreen, too. This was nothing but a cheap grasp for more money on the back of a film that, against all odds, did quite well. Goddamn, I’m depressed now.