The answer is, probably, “Yes.” As our media becomes saturated by slow-motion bulletfests, bloody wrestling rings, and talk-show fistfights, impressionable viewers seem more likely to go back to high school and shoot their classmates. But at the same time, it is difficult to make relevant contemporary art about reality on the streets, in schools, in big business without in some way portraying the violence there. What can be done? Perhaps a solution lies partly in portraying violence responsibly rather than indulgently. And it would make a difference if immature audiences did not have easy access to movies with such severe subject matter; after all, many young viewers don’t know the difference between exposing violence and condoning it.
This is a problem I’ll explore in more depth in a future edition of this column, but its severity is made brutally clear with the release of the new action thriller Fifteen Minutes.
Hot from the OvenFifteen Minutes, directed by John Herzfeld, stars Robert DeNiro and Edward Burns. It follows the antics of two foreign criminals who hope to achieve their “15 minutes of fame” by coming to America and televising their spree of murderous mayhem. They believe their inevitable celebrity will be their ticket to freedom once the law picks them up. Remind you of any recent celebrity-murder scandals? The subject is certainly relevant. Does Herzfeld give us a movie that has anything new to say? Or is he merely exploiting a hot topic?
Preview‘s family-oriented review says that the film “makes not-so-subtle social comments about the sometimes questionable actions of journalistic media to satisfy viewers’ morbid and voyeuristic curiosity.” Preview insists the film is not suitable for family viewing on account of the violence, noting, “the dialogue is bluer than the police uniforms.” Ted Baehr at Movieguide observes that the film is possessed of a “moral worldview.” In spite of its violence, he is impressed with “literate dialogue which illuminates the good and bad of our camera-happy society” and “provides a fascinating, sometimes humorous, exploration of television hype, fame, and the criminal mind.”
But David Edelstein of Slate is repulsed. “The message is: ‘Bad media—forshame.’ The film itself, meanwhile, is shameless enough to make those TV blowhards look like mewing Teletubbies. It all adds up to one of the most brazen pieces of blame-shifting in exploitation-picture history.” J. Robert Parks of The Phantom Tollbooth adds his own criticisms: “The final act of Fifteen Minutes is a ludicrous, over-the-top exercise in excess. Herzfeld’s movie thinks it has something to say about our nation’s obsession with crime and celebrity, but it’s merely a muddled disaster of conflicting ideas and outright hyperbole.” And the U.S. Catholic Conference claims that “The dark social commentary … is eventually lost amidst the film’s nonsensical plot and excessive brutality.” Michael Elliott at Movie Parables finds that the movie belabors its message. “The film’s much too obvious point … is beaten into our collective skulls with the subtlety of a jack hammer.” He praises DeNiro’s performance, but concludes, “The difficulty with the movie lies not in the talented cast … but rather in the script which places their characters into implausible situations.”
I too found Fifteen Minutes manipulative, self-defeating, and prone to oversimplifying the problems it addresses. On one hand, it points an accusatory finger at our appetites for violence and trashy sex, but then it tries to heighten its impact by force-feeding us loud, rapid-cut, over-the-top scenes of violence and naked prostitutes. It also asks us to believe a responsible law enforcement officer (Burns) would fall for one of the prostitutes almost immediately. “It will look bad,” he is warned, but the department’s reputation is the only concern. No one questions whether falling for an illegal-alien prostitute within an hour of meeting her might be just plain stupid. That same hero later resorts to vigilante justice, building up to a typical Hollywood revenge moment when we are supposed to cheer an act of violence.
The situations might be implausible. But the villains’ strategy? Roger Ebert of the Chicago Sun-Times is disturbed by just how plausible such heinous acts might be. “What kind of person would do something like that? The kind of person, I imagine, who appears on The Jerry Springer Show, a program I study for signposts on our society’s descent into barbarism. When you say these people have no shame, you have to realize that ‘shame’ is a concept and perhaps even a word with which they are not familiar. They will eagerly degrade themselves for 15 minutes of fame.” He admits the film is not as artful as Oliver Stone’s 1994 film Natural Born Killers, but adds, “it’s a real movie, rough edges and all, and not another link from the sausage factory.”
It should be noted that this very week Natural Born Killers was excused of responsibility for acts of copycat violence. And thank goodness for that. Not only is it ridiculous to claim that Oliver Stone’s satire of violence was intended to incite violence, but to hold Stone legally responsible for the related murders would have been disastrous to artists across the country. Imagine if writers, painters, photographers, or directors had to fear lawsuits for whatever irresponsible behavior their work inspired in immature and reckless viewers. I found Natural Born Killers to be prophetic, witty, sometimes quite powerful … everything Fifteen Minutes pretends to be. (Some called the performances too exaggerated and ludicrous, but I swear I’ve encountered people in my own neighborhood that are frighteningly similar to the Bonnie and Clyde maniacs played by Woody Harrelson and Juliette Lewis.) While the movie is only appropriate for mature, responsible audiences, it is well-acted, brilliantly stylized, and intricately layered to lampoon the assault of the modern media on our senses. Under the sound and fury lies a story about children whose family and society gave them no love, attention, or respect. It is a perfect example of what Flannery O’Connor was talking about when she talked about using art as a sledgehammer that wakes up a numb and apathetic people.
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For those more interested in laughter than violence, new releases offered three fairly unimpressive comedies: Get Over It, Company Man, and Blow Dry.
Get Over It, the tale of a high school boy (Ben Foster) desperate to win back his girlfriend (Melissa Sagemiller), was not screened for critics—usually a sign that the studio doesn’t want the awful truth about a movie to ruin its opening weekend. Bob Smithouser of Focus on the Family caught up with the movie anyway and found it lacking, sure enough. He writes, “there’s not an original idea to be found in this calculated adolescent fantasy that vacillates between romantic innocence and naughty winks at perversion.” He faults the movie’s “tired marriage of formulas, from its skeletal similarity to a Shakespearean play to its Ally McBeal-ish dream sequences.” He also condemns the film’s “matter-of-fact treatment of premarital sex and its lone portrayal of parents as immodest, party-hungry swingers.” The U.S. Catholic Conference was dissatisfied as well. “Director Tommy O’Haver spins a comic romance of little distinction save for a few sprightly song and dance numbers.” Michael Elliot at Movie Parables says that the “heavy sexual content and crude humor” are “an unwelcome and unneeded addition to this story which had so much more to offer.” There were, however, some facets of the movie that he liked. “Surprisingly, Get Over It has enough pleasant verve and high-spirited energy that we might find the film lingering in our memories a bit longer than the other recent examples of its genre.”
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At this writing, religious media critics have offered no reviews for Company Man. But the reviews from mainstream critics should be enough to keep audiences away. In spite of its stellar cast—which includes Sigourney Weaver, John Turturro, Anthony LaPaglia, Ryan Phillippe, and Woody Allen in an unbilled cameo—the attempted laughs fall flat. Most critics fault the writer, director, and star Douglas McGrath, who cowrote Bullets over Broadway and directed Emma. McGrath is a friend of Woody Allen’s, and the movie is often described as a riff on Allen’s own Bananas. Several critics even postulated that Allen’s participation here may have been a personal favor, and Lou Lumenick in theNew York Postclaims that Allen’s scenes “are so much better than the rest of the movie that one suspects he was allowed to write and direct them himself.” Every other actor, he says, “delivers the worst performance of his or her career.” Roger Ebert of the Chicago Sun-Times is likewise flummoxed by this talented lineup. “I am reminded of Gene Siskel’s classic question, ‘Is this movie better than a documentary of the same actors having lunch?’ In this case, it is not even better than a documentary of the same actors ordering room service while fighting the stomach flu.” Michael Wilmington in the Chicago Tribune comments, “After 20 minutes of this would-be laugh riot … I felt as if I’d really stumbled into Movie Critic Inferno, a place of eternal torment for sinful reviewers.”
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Blow Dryis a comedy about a lesbian hairdresser (Natasha Richardson) who learns she is dying of cancer. She tries anxiously to reunite with her estranged ex-husband and son in hopes of winning a hairdressing competition while she still can. Sound a bit odd? It comes from some of the folks responsible for The Full Monty, if that explains anything.
“Hilarious scenes of flamboyant hair presentations are sure to tickle the funny bone,” says the critic at Preview. Despite the laughs, though, the reviewer lists strong reservations. “Heterosexual actresses playing lesbian relationships seem to be the new millennium’s ’cause du jour’ in both films and television.” While many critics in the religious media make their routine objections to portrayals of homosexuality, some are bothered by artistic aspects they find wanting. Phil Boatwright at The Dove Foundation observes that the movie “takes its humor mostly from absurdities and crude sexual bawdiness.” And it is the U.S. Catholic Conference‘s opinion that the story “stresses forgiveness and family but isn’t above emotional manipulation in presenting lovable underdogs beset by cheating rivals.” Mainstream critic James Berardinelli at Reel Viewsechoes the reviews of many of his peers: “Blow Dry is such a forgettable motion picture that, a few months from now, it will be impossible to recall anything about this film without reading a plot synopsis. It’s disposable entertainment for those who are in search of something that won’t tax the organ housed beneath the hair.”
Side Dishes If you haven’t encountered the writing of Roddy Doyle, you should. Try Paddy Clark Ha Ha Ha, for starters. Doyle has a gift for calamitous humor and for giving his characters unforgettable voices, flaws, and triumphs. You may have met him already — at the movies. He’s the man behind such cinematic Irish stories as The Commitments, The Van, and The Snapper.
The latest big-screen Doyle story is a romantic comedy called When Brendan Met Trudy, which is now enjoying a limited release through the acclaimed independent film program The Shooting Gallery. It is drawing mixed reactions, but consistently better reviews than the other films released this week. The critics all refer to Brendan’s frequent allusions to other films, which stem from the main character’s love of the movies. Roger Ebert writes, “The more movie references you recognize the more you’re likely to enjoy When Brendan Met Trudy, but the movie works whether you identify the scenes or not. It has that unwound Roddy Doyle humor; the laughs don’t hit you over the head, but tickle you behind the knee.” But Dove‘s Phil Boatwright expresses a conflict of enjoying the movie and having difficulty with certain behaviors of its characters. “Unfortunately, like so many Irish films that spotlight blue-collar working stiffs, it has an air of crudeness. Cursing is second nature to each of them. And sex is not the extension of romantic ardor, but merely a biological function as mundane as defecating.”
Boatwright’s comments raise an interesting question. How should we respond when a good story is peppered with dialogue or behavior that we find abrasive or offensive? Roddy Doyle’s characters frequently demonstrate crass behavior and use foul language. But his stories are often tales of hard-working people overcoming dilemmas with humor, teamwork, and love. And his work usually has an authenticity about it, a sense that he has truly been there and lived with these people, which is reinforced by the rough character of his descriptions, both on the page and in the movies. He may not be condoning such behavior so much as honestly representing an environment and a people that he loves and wants to share with us. It can be good practice for us not to ignore but to have patience with the immediate offensive behaviors of such characters. That way we might discern why they are the way they are, and what the heart of their story might be. If we’re easily offended, we can miss glimmers of grace. Developing such discernment might then translate to the way we view our neighbors, so that we might interact with them, help them, and perhaps even learn from them, in spite of their flaws. We might learn to be “in but not of the world.”
Next week: We’ll look at critical responses to The Dish, Enemy at the Gates, Memento, and more.
Jeffrey Overstreet is on the board of Promontory Artists Association, a non-profit organization based in Seattle, which provides community, resources, and encouragement for Christian artists. He edits an artists’ magazine (The Crossing), publishes frequent film and music reviews on his Web site (Looking Closer), and is at work on a series of novels. His work has also appeared in Christianity and the Arts magazine.
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