Tag: Bill Murray

Ghostbusters II (1989, Ivan Reitman)

About the only compliment I can pay Ghostbusters II is the first half or so doesn’t reveal how terrible the movie’s going to get. The film had a troubled production, which might explain the special effects looking rough for the third act. II’s third act apes the third act from the first movie, only without any of the stakes. Ghostbusters II is profoundly without stakes.

Ostensibly, the boys in beige (and navy blue to fit into the popular contemporary cartoon series “The Real Ghostbusters”’s continuity) are trying to save Sigourney Weaver’s baby from Peter MacNicol, her pervy boss who’s become an agent of evil. Except the movie’s not going to kill a baby. So it’s all about how they save the baby. Except Ghostbusters II’s third act is horrible. It gets worse every stake-less scene. The movie’s also got this “New York City sucks” undertone, which is kind of strange. It could work—the movie picks up after the Ghostbusters have been sued out of business, so maybe they could hate the Big Apple, but… no, it’s just for the jokes. The really tepid jokes.

The first act establishes the new ground situation—Weaver’s got a baby (Murray’s not the daddy), Murray’s a psychic TV talk show host (which fits because the character’s written like a talk show host the entire movie), Harold Ramis is doing hard science, Dan Aykroyd is running a used book shop while not doing appearances with Ernie Hudson. Does Hudson have anything else going on the side? Don’t ask; the movie doesn’t care.

Along the way, we’ll learn Rick Moranis has gone back to school and become a lawyer. Annie Potts will be back, then David Margulies comes back as the Mayor, too. Margulies seems exhausted at the whole production, which tracks. Kurt Fuller plays his dipshit aide, who doesn’t trust the gang.

The movie feels long because nothing connects. Ackroyd and Ramos’s script gives them more to do for a while (Ramis especially), but it doesn’t go anywhere. Moranis and Potts get about the best subplot, which is only fair since they’re giving the best performances, but they also don’t have the worst writing. Ramis and Ackroyd saved it for themselves—plus Hudson. II forgets about Hudson for most of the first act, then turns him into an exposition delivery device in the second—alongside Ramis and Ackroyd—and it’s way too much.

Then Weaver starts phoning it in for the finale, which is not good, given it’s all about her baby becoming an evil god. I can’t remember when she goes flat, but it’s way too early, and it’s way too flat. II can’t figure out how to make her and Murray cute together, so they have him play with the baby a lot. Ghostbusters II targets the weirdest demographics—boys who love “Real Ghostbusters” and their moms who didn’t like the first movie but can handle it because the baby’s adorable.

Reitman can’t direct that movie. He does an awful job. As far as the technicals, no one does a good job, really—Michael Chapman somehow shoots it poorly, and then Randy Edelman’s score is arguably offensive—but there’s some basic competence to the production. Dennis Muren’s special effects leave a lot to be desired, though.

So it’s all doomed.

There are also a bunch of stunt cameos for some reason. They don’t amount to anything.

As for top-billed Murray… maybe HBO should’ve given him a talk show or whatever. But it’s not a performance. Many people embarrass themselves in II—Aykroyd, Weaver, Hudson, MacNichol, Harris Yulin—but nothing compares to Murray. He’s been fixed. I’m not sure II’d have been any better without the snip-snip, but it might not have been so dull.

Ghostbusters (1984, Ivan Reitman)

In the almost forty years since Ghostbusters’s release, the film remains unparalleled in terms of present-day, urban sci-fi action. The film’s a mix of crisp action comedy and a special effects spectacular, with Reitman’s direction toggling as needed and Elmer Bernstein’s score tying a beautiful knot. With the special effects, the film never isn’t grasping too far and never isn’t succeeding. It’s visually exquisite, even when there’s some noticeable foam versus marshmallow. Richard Edlund produced the effects and, well, accept no substitutes.

The film’s also got an incredibly brisk pace—partially due to an elongated victory lap of a third act. In the first few minutes, the film introduces real ghosts—in the New York Public Library, establishing an expectation of location shooting. The film kind of takes a dodge on for set pieces but still impresses with what they do pull off on-site. Fake ghost-investigating scientists (played by Ghostbusters co-writers) Dan Aykroyd and Harold Ramis play second and third fiddle to lead Bill Murray; they’re the true believers, Murray’s just in it to manipulate coeds. Just when they see their first real ghost, the university has had enough and boots them.

This turn of events could lead to the worst in Murray’s character, but instead, the movie skips along, hurrying to put the trio in business as New York City’s first (albeit entirely unlicensed) professional ghost hunters. The second act starts with their first potential customer, professional classical musician Sigourney Weaver. She’s got a valid cause for concern (the movie shows her haunted apartment, which also gives Weaver a great scene opposite in-camera effects, which the film provides a number of its cast). Except Murray tries to get some action instead of taking her seriously, and she’s out of the plot for a bit.

Weaver will be—from a particular point of view—literally a girlfriend in a refrigerator, but the film smartly keeps her in play during the second act as the Ghostbusters start getting actual business. The media coverage will transition to Weaver, along with her neighbor, Rick Moranis. Eventually, it’ll all come together in hilarious and scintillating ways. And scintillatingly hilarious ways. Those ways might be the funniest. Oh, and with occasional major effects sequences. Moranis and Weaver end up doing the most work in the film.

The ghost-busting business booms so much the trio brings on Ernie Hudson as their first busting employee (they’ve got a secretary, played by Annie Potts, who seems to know she will be unappreciated for her turn but still kills it). Hudson brings the soul to the team, being the only one who professes a belief in God. Ramis and Murray never really talk about it, but it’s obvious Ramis is a science atheist, and Murray’s a libertarian atheist. Meanwhile, Aykroyd’s a go-along-to-get-along all religions have a kernel of truth guy. The third act brings in all the religious stereotypes, which includes blowing their outfits around in ghosts of wind (and implying the Catholics are corrupt in some way, but also seemingly happy about it). But the God question? No comment.

Gods, to be sure, are real, however. Gods and ghosts.

However, the film also skirts the undead aspect of ghosts. There are some definitely human-looking ones, but they’re mostly just ghostly (and slimy) creatures, which is all fine. Edlund does a phenomenal job with the ghosts; the film’s always got the right tone in the paranormal encounters.

Performances-wise, Moranis is probably the best for his range, followed by Weaver for her seriousness, playfulness, and willingness to play a hair band video vixen. Murray’s an engaging asshole, especially once the celebrity aspect comes in. Since Ghostbusters takes place in the real world, there’s a lengthy, sometimes salient subplot about their notoriety. It’ll put them on the radar of EPA pencil pusher William Atherton, who thinks the Ghostbusters are poisoning the air with hallucinogens and saving people from the ghosts they’ve convinced them are real. Given the initial suggestion, Murray’s a sexual predator….

Anyway.

Murray gets reformed really quickly in his courtship of Weaver. He’s never too creepy around her (because she’s a grown woman and not a coed, apparently), but he ends up downright cute.

Akyroyd’s incredibly likable but kind of barely in the movie. He gets a couple big moments, but none really in the second act. The second act has a lot for Ramis, not Akyroyd. Hudson… well, theses will be written about the film’s hostile indifference to Hudson. He gets some material, even some jokes, but he always gets the fastest cuts away.

Speaking of the cuts… editors Sheldon Kahn and David E. Blewitt do just as singular work as the more obviously superlative work from cinematographer László Kovács, Edlund, and Bernstein. Reitman’s not slouching in his direction either. But back to that cutting, Kahn and Blewitt do this thing where they’ll cut just as the next setup begins, usually a comedy scene, and instead of seeing it play out, it becomes this implication for the viewer to mull as the next scene begins. It’s excellent work.

In terms of narrative, the smartest thing about Ghostbusters is that celebrity angle. Akyroyd and Ramis know how to give the audience directions to Willful Way, and seeing their two bashful characters embrace the spotlight is a really cute, absolutely passive subplot. The third act’s got some really functional plotting, but it can’t overshadow the sometimes outstanding story moves.

Ghostbusters is pretty darn awesome. It’s great-looking, well-acted, and a lot of fun.

I really hope they don’t try to turn it into a franchise and screw it up somehow.

The Monuments Men (2014, George Clooney)

The Monuments Men is cute. It probably shouldn’t be cute, or if it should be cute, it should somehow be more cute. But it’s fairly fubar. The film’s got very little dramatic momentum since it can never find a tone and also because its scenes try to skip over the drama or do whatever it can to avoid it. It’s competent. It’s occasionally well-acted. Some aspects of the writing are okay though maybe not. It’s not an incompetent script when it comes to the scenes, the film’s just edited in such a way any scene with attempts at character development completely flop because no one has a character.

The film is about the Allied efforts to recover fine art after the Germans stole it during World War II. George Clooney—in addition to directing, co-producing, and co-adapting—is the ostensible lead. He’s the one who presents the idea at the beginning, then he ceases to have any dramatic relevance. But basically he puts a team together and they try to save Art History 101 from Hitler.

The team is a reasonably eclectic bunch of recognizable actors, including Matt Damon to ensure some box office, Bill Murray because Clooney (very wrongly) thinks Murray can make something out of a nothing role, John Goodman, Bob Babalan, Jean Dujardin as the French guy, and Hugh Bonneville as the British guy.

Performance wise… Bonneville’s the easy winner, then probably Cate Blanchett as Damon’s contact in Belgium, then Damon, then Dujardin, then… Goodman? Murray and Babalan are supposed to be beginning an unlikely but beautiful friendship and have zero chemistry together. Like, there are some okay sight gags with Babalan but… they’re sight gags. They’re way too easy and Babalan is clearly not trying. Murray seems actively bored (it’s kind of hard to blame him) but Babalan’s a close second for disinterest.

Everyone else tries. Though Clooney’s phoning it in, which is a big problem since he’s occasionally narrating and gets some monologues you’d think he’d want to do at least another take on, both as an actor and the director.

Dimitri Leonidas plays their translator. He’s good.

The film pairs off most of the cast—Damon and Blanchett, Goodman and Dujardin, Murray and Babalan—for a bunch of adventures, sometimes involving recovering the art, sometimes bad, lengthy jokes, sometimes danger.

But it’s all kind of trite, something Alexandre Desplat’s score annoyingly reminds every few seconds. With some exception, the entire cast is interchangeable. Their specific art history jobs don’t even matter.

And while it’s obviously based on true events… only one of the characters hasn’t had his name changed so it’s not based on true events enough anyone would want to be accountable for historical accuracy so Clooney and co-writer, co-producer, and cameo co-star Grant Heslov really should’ve found some drama in the film.

Though Clooney’s missing a lot. Like any sense of scale. In addition to being incapable of directing the ensemble cast.

Monuments Men seems like a project where everyone decided it was “good enough” at some point without ever finding “good.” The plotting—you can’t even say the script because it’s hard to believe cause and effect escaped Clooney and Heslov so something must’ve gone wrong later—but the plotting is meandering, pedestrian, and amateurish.

A good score could’ve probably held it together, but Desplat’s score is not good at all and it works against the film.

If it weren’t for Clooney being such a multi-hyphenate on the project, you’d think he was forced to do it under contract.

And that end cameo is a big fail. It’s “cute” but pointless and ineffective. Just like the movie.

Tootsie (1982, Sydney Pollack)

Tootsie opens with Dustin Hoffman giving acting classes. He’s a failed New York actor–but a well-employed waiter–who must be giving these classes on spec. It seems like Hoffman being a beloved acting teacher might end up having something to do with the plot of Tootsie, which has Hoffman pretending to be a female actor in order to get a part, but it doesn’t. Save a throwaway scene where he’s helping love interest Jessica Lange work on her part.

The film, with its two (credited) screenwriters and two story concocters (though Larry Gelbart is both), is a narrative mess. Teri Garr, as Hoffman’s student and good friend, disappears somewhere in the second act, once Lange gets more to do. Bill Murray (in an uncredited, main supporting role) at least provides some continuity, which not even director Pollack (who also acts as Hoffman’s agent) gets to do. The conclusion of the movie is this swirl of contrivances, all forcefully introduced earlier in the picture, and no one who should be there for it has a scene. Tootsie just ignores the previous couple hours to get the coda to work.

And it does. Tootsie does, despite all the narrative problems and missed opportunities and dropped characters, come through for the finish. It helps having Owen Roizman’s photography, it helps being shot in New York City, it needs stars Hoffman and Lange. No matter what story problems, Tootsie never fails its actors. Even with it’s Pollack–Tootsie, the film, never fails Pollack, the actor, even if Pollack, the director, doesn’t quite have the film under control. Pollack’s got a great rant towards the end.

I’ll start from the bottom of the cast and work up just because I’m not really sure what I’m going to say about Hoffman yet.

George Gaynes is hilarious as this lech actor on the soap opera where Hoffman gets his job (as a woman). Gaynes just has to be a believable buffoon, but he does it with such ease, he calms Tootsie a bit. It never seems too extreme just because Gaynes’s so sturdy. He tempers it, along with Dabney Coleman. Coleman’s the jerk director of the soap. He’s also dating Lange. He also doesn’t have a big enough part in the story during the second half. Coleman’s still good though. He’s got the right energy–and right buffoonery–to keep it going.

Charles Durning is about the only actor who doesn’t get anything to do overall. He gets a lot to do in the story, he’s just poorly written. He’s Lange’s dad, who gets a crush on Hoffman when Hoffman’s “in character” as the female actor. It’s a sitcom foil, which wastes Durning; there’s also some continuity issues regarding Durning’s supportive dad when Lange’s character is initially introduced as an alcoholic because of being an orphan? Maybe I missed some exposition, but I was paying attention.

Murray’s good. He’s dry, he’s funny, he’s Hoffman’s conscience if Hoffman had a somewhat disinterested, bemused conscience. He’s present through most of the film, though, which is important. Most other characters just evaporate when the story doesn’t need them. Tootsie keeps Murray around even when it doesn’t.

Now, Teri Garr. She’s great. She also gets one good scene and it’s after the movie’s been ignoring her for an hour. It’s not a great part, either. She’s such a function in the script, she and Hoffman’s subplot literally kicks off just because his particular lie to her. Any other lie and it would’ve been fine. But her great scene is great. It’s a shame she’s not around more.

The same sort of goes for Jessica Lange, who shares the same space in the film as Garr, at least until Garr leaves. Then Lange gets to be around and sometimes she gets stuff to do, sometimes she just gets to sit around. Lange’s best acting moments are far superior to the script’s moments for her as an actor. Pollack works on directing Lange more than anyone else in the film.

Including Hoffman, who Pollack sort of lets do his own thing, to great success. Hoffman’s performance, as an example of comedy Method acting, is outstanding. There’s not much of a role past the MacGuffin–Pollack relies way too heavily on montages after a certain point, including a completely nonsensical one–but it’s an outstanding performance. The film positions Hoffman front and center, then transforms him into his new role–an actor playing this female actor–on screen. It’s awesome. It also is nowhere near enough to fix the script problems because Tootsie’s a fairly shallow movie overall.

And it shouldn’t be. There’s so much potential, not just for Hoffman, but for everyone in the cast. Lange, Garr, Murray, Coleman… okay, not Durning, but everyone else and a lot with them. And maybe even Durning if the film remembered Lange’s alcoholism subplot instead of forgetting it immediately.

Tootsie’s all right. It should be better, it could’ve been a lot worse. It’s well made, has a nice pace, has a nice Dave Grusin score–and a nice original song from Stephen Bishop–and some phenomenal acting. Hoffman and Lange are excellent and Garr ought to be. She just doesn’t have enough material. Because Tootsie’s a tad thin.

Caddyshack (1980, Harold Ramis)

What’s the funniest thing in Caddyshack? Bill Murray is a good first choice, Rodney Dangerfield, even Ted Knight is hilarious, but Chevy Chase actually wins out. He doesn’t have as many awesome scenes as Murray, but Murray’s got a couple mundane ones. Chase–who opens the movie with lead Michael O’Keefe–is fantastic throughout all of his scenes, even when he’s background.

The busyness in Caddyshack is one of its great strengths. Cindy Morgan’s temptress is a lot funnier when she’s reacting to the main action then when she’s taking the lead in a scene. The script doesn’t seem to know what to do with her and Ramis will cut to her for a reaction shot and she’s got nothing. But when she’s watching Dangerfield go wild, for example, she’s awesome.

Technically, the film’s far from perfect. Ramis’s composition runs hot and dry–it seems like he did a better job directing actors than framing shots. Cinematographer Stevan Larner probably doesn’t help the situation. The film lacks any visual distinctiveness. William C. Carruth’s editing is sometimes weak as well.

Great Johnny Mandel score though.

Other cast standouts include Brian Doyle-Murray, Lois Kibbee and Henry Wilcoxon. Doyle-Murray (one of the writers) has the most to do and he’s fantastic. Oh, and Scott Colomby as O’Keefe’s nemesis. He’s real good.

O’Keefe is so-so as the lead; he’s likable enough, which seems to be all the script asks of him.

Caddyshack is funny stuff. Chase and Murray are both awesome.

The Man Who Knew Too Little (1997, Jon Amiel)

As unlikely as it might seem, The Man Who Knew Too Little could have been really good. Here’s the basic plot–an American rube, who loves movies and television so much he knows the lines, is confused for a dangerous psychopathic hitman involved in international intrigue while vacationing in the UK. All of his hitman lines, for example, could be from movies or something.

Instead, Too Little is a train wreck of a star vehicle for Bill Murray. One has to wonder if co-stars Joanne Whalley, Peter Gallagher and Alfred Molina recognized Murray’s terrible performance on set. If they did, and still managed such good performances opposite him, it says something about their skill… and professionalism.

Murray is awful. Obviously, the script is at fault to some degree, but it’s really Murray. An engaged actor could have overcome any script problems.

However, Murray’s not entirely at fault for Too Little. Director Amiel is the other obvious culprit. Amiel’s attempts at a spy thriller–even a spoof of a spy thriller–are awful. He apparently told composer Christopher Young to make the score sound like a Pink Panther cartoon. Young’s credited as “Chris Young” here… maybe he was embarrassed by the lame score. It’s technically fine, just stupid.

Another fine performance is from Anna Chancellor, in her too small role as Gallagher’s wife. Of course, the film forgets about branding she and Gallagher terrorists so it can get to its idiotic finish.

Too Little is dreadful and shouldn’t have been.

0/4ⓏⒺⓇⓄ

CREDITS

Directed by Jon Amiel; screenplay by Robert Farrar and Howard Franklin, based on a novel by Farrar; director of photography, Robert M. Stevens; edited by Pamela Power and Paul Karasick; music by Christopher Young; production designer, Jim Clay; produced by Arnon Milchan, Michael G. Nathanson and Mark Tarlov; released by Warner Bros.

Starring Bill Murray (Wallace Ritchie), Peter Gallagher (James Ritchie), Joanne Whalley (Lori), Alfred Molina (Boris ‘The Butcher’ Blavasky), Richard Wilson (Sir Roger Daggenhurst), John Standing (Gilbert Embleton), Simon Chandler (Hawkins), Geraldine James (Dr. Ludmilla Kropotkin), Anna Chancellor (Barbara Ritchie), Nicholas Woodeson (Sergei), Cliff Parisi (Uri), Dexter Fletcher (Otto) and Eddie Marsan (Mugger #1).

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Moonrise Kingdom (2012, Wes Anderson)

With Moonrise Kingdom, Wes Anderson has finally put his directing craft so far ahead of his narrative, the narrative doesn’t matter. Neither, in Moonrise‘s case, do the actors. There isn’t a single outstanding performance in the film… maybe because Anderson and co-writer Roman Coppola don’t write one. They’re to the point of using Jason Schwartzman as a gag cameo.

Moonrise is purposefully, aggressively artificial–Bob Balaban plays an omnipotent, future narrator who interacts with the characters. But it doesn’t really matter because Anderson’s craft is outstanding and the writing is still decent. A lot of the scenes between preteen outcasts Jared Gilman and Kara Hayward are lovely.

Anderson shoots as much of the film as he can in profile; the camera pans to introduce new action instead of cutting. Partially due to the film’s artificiality–partially to Anderson and cinematographer Robert D. Yeoman’s photography–it works. Moonrise isn’t supposed to be real. For instance, Tilda Swinton’s reduced to her job title.

Swinton’s no great shakes in the picture, but she’s not supposed to be. She’s gag casting, much like Schwartzman and Harvey Keitel. Keitel’s the best of those three. Bruce Willis and Edward Norton both do pretty well, though neither have enough material. Anderson and Coppola give Bill Murray absolutely nothing–he doesn’t even interact with his kids in the film, just barks near them. As his wife, Frances McDormand is better.

Moonrise Kingdom‘s a masterfully produced film. It’s just pointless, save demonstrating Anderson’s abilities as a director.

Kingpin (1996, Peter Farrelly and Bobby Farrelly)

The Farrelly Brothers created the mainstream gross-out comedy here in Kingpin, with all the familiar trappings–a familiar, if somewhat independently minded cast (Chris Elliot is in Kingpin), the star in need of a hit (Bill Murray), the popular soundtrack, and the storyline entirely capable of being tame, then ramped up for the belly laughs.

The difference between Kingpin and what came after, and the Farrelly Brothers made lots of them, until they finally stopped having hits (they have finally stopped making hits, haven’t they–I try not to see their movies), is Woody Harrelson. Harrelson turns in an exceptional performance in Kingpin, turning his (dirty) comic strip character into a full-fledged human being by the end. One of the great things the Farrelly Brothers do here is keep him gross throughout. Even after he turns the corner, he’s still bald with a comb-over (lots of comb-overs, Murray’s being the most stunning), with terrible teeth.

The film’s a rehash of The Color of Money, just with bowling and forty-six year-old Randy Quaid playing a twenty-something. Quaid’s great too, but it’s hardly a stretch. In his best dramatic scenes, he seems to be imitating his brother, actually.

Vanessa Angel is fine as the sexpot with the heart of gold (she’s kind of like a Rosanna Arquette who can act).

Also impressive are the bowling scenes, when it becomes a straight narrative, only with Harrelson in his absurd makeup.

It’s fantastic, hilarious and exceptionally confident.

3/4★★★

CREDITS

Directed by Peter Farrelly and Bobby Farrelly; written by Barry Fanaro and Mort Nathan; director of photography, Mark Irwin; edited by Christopher Greenbury; music by Freedy Johnston; production designer, Sidney J. Bartholomew Jr.; produced by Brad Krevoy, Steven Stabler and Bradley Thomas; released by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.

Starring Woody Harrelson (Roy Munson), Randy Quaid (Ishmael), Vanessa Angel (Claudia), Bill Murray (Ernie McCracken) and Chris Elliott (the Gambler).

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Zombieland (2009, Ruben Fleischer)

I can’t believe Zombieland got made. I mean, I understand it’s a reasonable financial success and all, but who greenlighted this film? It’s from a couple no name writers and a no name director and the best known cast member is Woody Harrelson.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Woody Harrelson and have been an avid supporter for many a year, but really… it’s way too… smart to be a studio picture. Even when it does silly, obvious things, it’s leagues better than what I was expecting.

For instance, the Bill Murray cameo–it does work; it’s funny but it’d be funnier if it were someone who hadn’t been through a nasty public divorce and needed to do image clean-up. Plus, there’s a comment about Murray’s dramatic turns, but nothing about him running out of the Oscars in a huff when he doesn’t win.

I think Mel Gibson would have been a much better choice, especially since he isn’t a comic actor in the same way. But then, Mel Gibson isn’t a Sony slash Columbia slash Tri-Star actor and Zombieland is one of the biggest studio pictures I can think of–it’s the Gremlins 2 of the zombie genre.

Acting wise, it’s all solid, but unspectacular. Jesse Eisenberg is really good, but he’s playing the same character he played in Adventureland. Harrelson’s funny and good but it’s no surprise he’s either.

Fleisher’s direction is comic-oriented, so it’s hard to tell about him.

But it’s really good stuff.

2/4★★

CREDITS

Directed by Ruben Fleischer; written by Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick; director of photography, Michael Bonvillain; edited by Alan Baumgarten; music by David Sardy; production designer, Maher Ahmad; produced by Gavin Polone; released by Columbia Pictures.

Starring Woody Harrelson (Tallahassee), Jesse Eisenberg (Columbus), Emma Stone (Wichita), Abigail Breslin (Little Rock), Amber Heard (406), Bill Murray (Bill Murray) and Derek Graf (Clown Zombie).

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The Limits of Control (2009, Jim Jarmusch)

Someone–Ebert maybe–is going to laud The Limits of Control. The nicest thing one can really say about it is it isn’t abjectly terrible. There aren’t many bad performances (Tilda Swinton’s lame and Bill Murray’s awful and Isaach De Bankolé is weak when he has more lines than the Terminator) and Jarmusch really does know how to frame a shot. But it’s a piece of malarky. It’s supposed to come off as subversive and anti-American in the end–I can’t really explain how without spoiling–and instead it just comes off as silly. You want to see sublime, subversive commentary on American foreign policy, read Warren Ellis’s Crécy. At its best, Limits of Control is obvious… at its worst, well, to put it bluntly, Jarmusch is full of shit.

Jarmusch has always been–often been–an international filmmaker. Limits of Control is a fine example. Set in Spain with an African leading man, there are Mexican actors, British, American, Spanish, probably a French actor in there somewhere… Jarmusch’s has got some great plays with language. But this exotic cast list is mostly just a diversion. It’s to make the audience feel like he or she is watching something, well, art house.

The most striking success of Limits of Control is its commentary on the spy thriller genre in general. It owes a lot to Hitchcock’s 1930s British thrillers, with the MacGuffin somewhat extracted from the film. The result is a boring two hours of people acting suspiciously with coincidence after coincidence occurring without a thread to tie them. So what. Jarmusch could have cut the pay-off scenes out of The Lady Vanishes and he’d get a similar effect. Well, maybe not The Lady Vanishes because so much of it relies on chemistry and Limits of Control has none. It’s like Jarmusch knew he’d have to do something to get people–critics–to talk about his film, so he made Paz de la Huerta take off her clothes for every scene. What’s the effect? Explicit nudity’s boring. Wow, good one. It’s not like Paul Verhoeven didn’t make explicit nudity boring fifteen years ago.

At times it seems like Jarmusch is going somewhere. Like it’s going to be The Courier’s Tragedy or something. It never is. In fact, the best way to describe The Limits of Control is The Courier’s Tragedy without the point. It’s Jarmusch spinning his wheels until the end–the big reveal in The Limits of Control is, literally, a pin.

Then some of it slowly starts to make sense. But it’s dumb, so who cares?

John Hurt’s great. Jean-François Stévenin has a good small role. de la Huerta isn’t bad. When he’s not talking De Bankolé is great.

I think Jarmusch was going for some kind of mystical realism with the film too.

He fails.

Oh, and how did he misuse Christopher Doyle? The colors are all flat and dead.

0/4ⓏⒺⓇⓄ

CREDITS

Written and directed by Jim Jarmusch; director of photography, Christopher Doyle; edited by Jay Rabinowitz; music by Boris; production designer, Eugenio Caballero; produced by Gretchen McGowan and Stacey E. Smith; released by Focus Features.

Starring Isaach De Bankolé (Lone Man), Alex Descas (Creole), Jean-François Stévenin (French), Óscar Jaenada (Waiter), Luis Tosar (Violin), Paz de la Huerta (Nude), Tilda Swinton (Blonde), Youki Kudoh (Molecules), John Hurt (Guitar), Gael García Bernal (Mexican), Hiam Abbass (Driver) and Bill Murray (American).

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