Home
Regular Features
Restaurant Guide
Dining Reviews
Musician
Profiles
Business Profiles
Internet Gems
Book Reviews
Places to Go, Things to Do
Services
Where
to find The Beachcomber
Send a letter to the editor
Advertise with us
Contact Us
| |
|||||
|
Shopgirl:
The Lifestyles of the Rich and Reluctant The shop girl of the title is Mirabelle Buttersfield, played by Claire Danes, a Vermont girl who moved to Los Angeles to get her life started, but instead winds up in the no-man’s-land of the glove counter of Saks Fifth Avenue. Jeremy, played by Jason Schwartzman, is an amplifier salesman and would-be font designer who very ineptly picks up Mirabelle in a Laundromat. Ray Porter, played by Steve Martin, who also wrote the novella upon which this film is based, is a wealthy older man who expertly picks up Mirabelle while she’s at work. Mirabelle, despite not being your traditional LA woman (as the movie points out again, and again, and again), easily falls for the suave Ray, but despite mutual appreciation, the relationship doesn’t progress quite as either of them would like. Danes and
Martin are both a touch too reserved to really bring this story
to life. Their reticence is appropriate for the people they play,
but for a film with only three main characters, to have two of
them be so aloof makes getting into the story difficult at times.
Still, it is nice to see the clever, sly Martin in something more
sophisticated and intelligent, instead of his recent screaming,
squirming parts in things like the Cheaper by the Dozen movies.
The best parts, however, are when Schwartzman is on screen. His
exuberance and his portrayal of his character’s strange
evolution toward becoming a whole person are delicious to watch,
walking the fine line between hilarious and absolutely believable.
Generally, I don’t notice music in films. When the composer does his or her job, the music blends in with the scene, adding depth without drawing attention to it. Alas, this was not the case with Shopgirl. The music was all inappropriately soaring strings, melodramatic stuff more suited to the film adaptation of Her Majestic Passion, or some equally torrid story involving ripped bodices and alabaster bosoms. Shopgirl is fairly low-key, so far as romance goes. That’s what’s good about it— there is nothing overwrought—only people figuring themselves out among the other characters, not making a big, ill-placed fuss over what happens. Apparently no one told the composer. Pity. Despite the positive parts, Shopgirl was ultimately a disappointment. It’s disappointing as an adaptation of a wonderful novella, as well as a film standing on its own. Had it come out in the summer, it could have been a good choice for a night at the theater, seeming more intelligent for the comparison to bigger, louder summer movies. However, as we are in fall, and the more serious, Oscar-seeking films are coming out, seeing Shopgirl instead of one of the other wonderful possibilities in theaters right now would be an unfortunate use of two hours. Bottom line:
Don’t take my word for it—read the book. |
|
In Zorro
Sequel, Sword Is Mightier Than Script The swashbuckling hero Zorro is almost as old as cinema itself, going all the way back to Douglas Fairbanks and the silent days. Tyrone Power got off some good swordplay in Rouben Mamoulian’s The Mark of Zorro in 1940, perhaps the quintessential Zorro film. Disney versions followed, a television series, and George Hamilton’s 1981 farce Zorro, the Gay Blade. In 1998, director Martin Campbell struck box office gold with The Mask of Zorro, solid entertainment and a welcome departure from noisy special effects driven piffle like Armageddon. Seven years later, here’s the follow-up, The Legend of Zorro. I don’t actually remember that much about the first film, except that Anthony Hopkins was in it. I remember him training young thief Antonio Banderas to fill his Zorro, but cannot recall if the Hopkins character died or simply wandered off into the sunset. Hopkins is absent this time, with not even so much as a lousy Obi-Wan Kenobi cameo. Surprising since the movie lifts so many bits from other popular movie franchises. There’s the old how-can-you-not-know-it’s-him? masquerade that worked so well for Superman and his successors. Elements of espionage flicks and screwball comedies work their way into the proceedings, too. And there’s domestic squabbling between Zorro and his lovely wife Elena, once again portrayed by Academy Award winner Catherine Zeta-Jones. Elena demands that her husband give up the Z-man gig, because he hardly knows his son for starters. The split enables the plot wheels to get rolling, but I hope a similar conceit does not work its way into Spider-Man 3. Campbell is an adequate storyteller, having honed his chops with the James Bond franchise. A new director might have brought a little more depth to the series, but Campbell earns points—and a good amount of “Yeah, right!” exclamations from the audience—for his impressive set pieces, highlighted by a climactic fight atop a speeding steam-powered locomotive. The script, by Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman, has something to do with a secret society determined to destroy the United States—with the nation clearly on the verge of civil war, you might wonder why the villains didn’t just wait it out. Zeta-Jones appears to be slumming at first, until she meets up with two mysterious characters and gets to kick a little ass. That’s enough to get Quentin Tarantino whooping and hollering in the third row and me, too. Banderas looks a little silly in the Zorro costume—for some reason, he reminds me of guitar-shilling infomercial star Esteban. But he displays the right amount of self-deprecating humor to balance the unbelievable heroics. Banderas appears comfortable in Zorro’s shoes, while Zeta-Jones manages to rise above more than one inane situation. Rufus Sewell is effective as Elena’s would-be suitor, and Nick Chinlund is all snarl and wooden teeth as the main villain’s enforcer. But it is Adrian Alfonso as Joaquin, son of Zorro, who rises well above the expected kiddie actor cliches—he is a resourceful youngster who disrupts a classroom with chip off the old block showing off. The kid is smart, too, even if he doesn’t realize that Dad and the “peasant masquerading as folk hero” are the same guy. The plot is rubbish, but isn’t it nice that we have a Latin-American hero? And here is a movie that might very well spark some interest in U.S. history among young viewers. All this, and a nice message about the family fighting together staying together. I could do without the big explosions, but the Bond-influenced dazzlers work most of the time. I also admire the chutzpah of the opening sequence, a free-for-all that works in a rousing horse-and-buggy chase, one of the pursuers suffering a ball-crushing worthy of old Benny Hill skits, and a just-clocked thug spitting out a mouthful of teeth. Similar sequences are effective, even when they push the credibility meter way into the red. The only clinker to speak of is an impossible escape from a fiery farmhouse with a baby in tow. I just wish Zorro would use his smarts a little more. Turns out the horse is the most sensible character in the movie, even when he’s swigging a bottle of tequila or puffing on a pipe. Bottom Line: Trifling but entertaining action fare. |
|||
Copyright © The Beachcomber, Inc. 2003 - 2008. All rights reserved.