Tag Archives: Gabriel Byrne

Miller’s Crossing (1990, Joel Coen)

A lot of Miller’s Crossing is left unsaid. Between the hard boiled dialogue disguising character motivations and the lengthy shots of Gabriel Byrne silently reflecting, the Coen Brothers invite examination and rumination. They invite it a little too much.

The film’s a perfect object, whether it’s how the opening titles figure into revealing conversation and to the finish or how the frequent fades to black control the viewer’s consumption of the film. All of the performances are outstanding. Every single moment is supports the whole.

So what’s wrong with it? Too much control. Even the craziness–the film examines violence and the men who perform it–is choreographed. It’s an amazing example of filmmaking, but it’s all surface. All of the layers in Miller’s are baked in, not organic. The story’s too tight. A couple cameos in the second half, along with nods to other Coen pictures, offer some calculated relief.

It’s actually kind of stagy.

There’s also a vague homophobic quality… the closeted (it’s the thirties) gay guys are all misogynist psychopaths to one degree or another.

But it’s a beautifully made, beautifully acted film. Byrne’s great in the lead, Marcia Gay Harden is excellent as the girl who comes between him and friend Albert Finney. Finney gives the film’s boldest performance, having to play a dim tough guy.

Jon Polito’s awesome, J.E. Freeman, John Turturro–like I said before, it’s perfect. It’s confident, it’s thorough.

It just doesn’t add up to as much as if it were messy.

3/4★★★

CREDITS

Directed by Joel Coen; written by Joel Coen and Ethan Coen; director of photography, Barry Sonnenfeld; edited by Michael R. Miller; music by Carter Burwell; production designer, Dennis Gassner; produced by Ethan Coen; released by 20th Century Fox.

Starring Gabriel Byrne (Tom Reagan), Marcia Gay Harden (Verna), John Turturro (Bernie Bernbaum), Jon Polito (Johnny Caspar), J.E. Freeman (Eddie Dane), Albert Finney (Leo), Mike Starr (Frankie), Al Mancini (Tic-Tac), Richard Woods (Mayor Dale Levander), Thomas Toner (O’Doole) and Steve Buscemi (Mink).


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The Keep (1983, Michael Mann)

For almost fifty percent of its run time, every shot one of Michael Mann and Alex Thomson’s shots in The Keep is extraordinary. Mann’s seems more concerned with precise composition than he does narrative and Thomson’s photography perfectly complements it. So, while the film isn’t much good in its first half, at least it’s wondrous to watch.

Then there’s the second half, after Ian McKellen (as a sickly historian) and Alberta Watson (as his daughter) show up. Maybe The Keep is supposed to be a metaphor for Watson losing her virginity and abandonment and loss or something, but it’s not. It’s a complete mess and a soap opera between Watson and Scott Glenn (as a savior figure) doesn’t help simplify it. Worse, their romance–and McKellen’s decision to, as a Jew, to side with a demonic evil against the Nazis–confuses the things Mann’s able to do right in The Keep.

Except the German army is about all Mann does right. He’s ripping off Das Boot–with Jürgen Prochnow as the sympathetic Wehrmacht commander who doesn’t care for the Nazi stuff. It’s a decent enough rip-off and not uninteresting (Nazis versus demons). Gabriel Byrne shows up as the S.S. guy and bickers with Prochnow before they both disappear so Mann can focus on McKellen.

Prochnow’s okay, Byrne’s great, McKellen’s awful, Watson’s weak, Glenn’s unintentionally hilarious. Mann’s dialogue and plotting is terrible. There’s nothing good about the film except the special effects and Thomson’s photography.

At least it’s relatively short.

0/4ⓏⒺⓇⓄ

CREDITS

Directed by Michael Mann; screenplay by Mann, based on the novel by F. Paul Wilson; director of photography, Alex Thomson; edited by Dov Hoenig; music by Tangerine Dream; production designer, John Box; produced by Gene Kirkwood and Hawk Koch; released by Paramount Pictures.

Starring Scott Glenn (Glaeken Trismegestus), Alberta Watson (Eva Cuza), Jürgen Prochnow (Captain Klaus Woermann), Robert Prosky (Father Mihail Fonescu), Gabriel Byrne (Major Kaempffer), William Morgan Sheppard (Alexandru) and Ian McKellen (Dr. Theodore Cuza).


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Cool World (1992, Ralph Bakshi)

What does it say about a performance when the actor is better voicing a cartoon than giving a full performance? I think it says the actor’s performance is godawful, but I’m not sure that adjective is strong enough to describe Kim Basinger in Cool World.

And Cool World is not a film with good performances, so for Basinger to come out so far ahead (or is it behind?) the pack is true atrociousness. If it weren’t already terrible, she’d ruin it. She does. She makes a terrible movie even worse.

Second-billed Gabriel Byrne is pretty bad too. He has the benefit of having an awful character though. The screenplay only totally fails Basinger’s character once the cartoon vixen becomes real. Before that change, it’s up in the air–the real problem’s the handling of Byrne’s character though. He’s even supposed to be the protagonist, which is a laugh.

Brad Pitt’s more the protagonist than Byrne or Basinger and he’s fairly bad. He has occasional moments, but all the acting by himself established some bad habits. His finish in the movie is actually worse than anyone else’s.

There are some good performances, but they’re all voice ones–Candi Milo, Charles Adler and Maurice LaMarche are all good.

Bakshi’s direction is a mixed bag. His real world sequences are lousy. His cartoon ones are okay, though Cool World‘s way too cheap for its ambitions.

Mark Isham’s score is occasionally good.

It’s a truly lousy movie, with Basinger making it worse.

0/4ⓏⒺⓇⓄ

CREDITS

Directed by Ralph Bakshi; written by Michael Grais and Mark Victor; director of photography, John A. Alonzo; edited by Steve Mirkovich and Annamaria Szanto; music by Mark Isham; production designer, Michael Corenblith; produced by Frank Mancuso Jr.; released by Paramount Pictures.

Starring Kim Basinger (Holli Would), Gabriel Byrne (Jack Deebs), Brad Pitt (Frank Harris), Charles Adler (Nails), Candi Milo (Lonette), Michele Abrams (Jennifer Malley) and Maurice LaMarche (Dr. Whiskers).


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THIS FILM IS ALSO DISCUSSED ON BASP | WHO FRAMED ROGER RABBIT (1988) / COOL WORLD (1992).

Stigmata (1999, Rupert Wainwright)

From the director of MC Hammer’s greatest hits. Seriously.

I wasn’t even going to open mocking Rupert Wainwright, but then I saw his filmography. Instead, I was going to open wondering how, with two people credited with the score (Billy Corgan and Elia Cmiral), it could be so terrible. Not really, I knew when the titles rolled the Smashing Pumpkins guy wasn’t going to turn in a good score. It’s actually okay in a few parts, for about twenty seconds, but I assume it was the other guy, Cmiral.

One of the problems with Stigmata is knowing what to mock… first. There are easy targets–the script, which features dialogue exchanges plagiarized from the worst episodes of “One Life to Live,” the acting, where Nia Long and Jonathan Pryce go mano-a-mano for worst supporting actor, or the direction, Wainwright’s extreme close-ups and his three second shots.

I suppose I could start with Patricia Arquette. It isn’t her worst performance–but it’s one where I forgot she’s actually good. I mean, she did Bringing Out the Dead the same year. Maybe she just needs a good director. Or a good script. She’s only atrocious during some of the lamer dialogue exchanges with Gabriel Byrne and, well, all of her scenes with Long. But those scenes are so poorly written, no one could have pulled through on them.

As for Byrne, he maintains. It’s kind of amazing, given the circumstances, but Byrne’s scenes emphasize the movie’s two–relative–strongpoints. First, the conspiratorial Catholic Church (headed by the evil Pryce, who apparently doesn’t understand he’s incapable of chewing scenery) out to silence to truth–does the Catholic Church ever do anything else? I feel like I need to watch Heaven Help Us or something. Second, the quasi-romance between Byrne and Arquette is okay. Even though Byrne being attracted to goof-ball club junkie Arquette as about as believable as her playing a twenty-three year-old, there are a couple decent scenes involving it. It doesn’t involve the movie’s silliest elements, so Byrne handles it well enough for both of them.

I never did get around to discussing Nia Long. It’s an incredible performance. She’s absolutely incapable of making believe–I just realized she’s the only black person in the entire movie… in Pittsburgh… anyway–she’s playing Arquette’s best friend. That description sums up her entire character. At least she disappears from the plot once Byrne comes in (which doesn’t make any sense, Arquette’s best friend would just forget about her… but maybe it was magic).

There’s also an incredibly annoying soundtrack. I forgot about movies–even crappy low-budget MGM tripe from the late 1990s–tried to make money selling soundtracks. I guess they still do, but I see enough of those finely cross-promoted motion pictures. The use of the soundtrack is terrible. The songs are crap–MC Hammer would have been a better choice.

The real problem with Stigmata is the end. There’s no resolution to the story but worse, the whole thing is illogical. It requires extreme maliciousness from someone who doesn’t give any indication of being a bad person. It’s like a Care Bear suffocating a puppy. It’s ludicrous.

Oh, I suppose Rade Serbedzija was fine.

0/4ⓏⒺⓇⓄ

CREDITS

Directed by Rupert Wainwright; written by Tom Lazarus and Rick Ramage, based on a story by Lazarus; director of photography, Jeffrey L. Kimball; edited by Michael R. Miller and Michael J. Duthie; music by Billy Corgan and Elia Cmiral; production designer, Waldemar Kalinowski; produced by Frank Mancuso Jr.; released by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.

Starring Patricia Arquette (Frankie Paige), Gabriel Byrne (Father Kiernan), Jonathan Pryce (Cardinal Houseman), Nia Long (Donna Chadway), Enrico Colantoni (Father Dario), Dick Latessa (Father Delmonico), Thomas Kopache (Father Durning), Ann Cusack (Dr. Reston), Portia de Rossi (Jennifer Kelliho), Patrick Muldoon (Steven) and Rade Serbedzija (Marion Petrocelli).


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