Tag Archives: Chicago

Love and Other Drugs Goes Cold Turkey

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Amid the crush of holiday releases and Oscar hopefuls, there are many many great pictures out right now. “Love and Other Drugs” is not one of them. The more I think about it, the more it bugs me.

Jake Gyllenhaal plays a brash handsome manipulator who beds women, uses them, spits them out (the usual). Anne Hathaway plays someone who’s seen it all. She’s been on the receiving end of such men, and as such, she’s hardened, crass, cynical, guarded.

Both of these characters, for reasons described, are annoying and not fun to watch. He’s thinking of ways to use people (easier, better, faster). She’s thinking of witty comebacks to cut them down to size. Did I mention that this is not fun? This, despite the fact that both of them get naked a lot. Really. It’s boring.

Who can he bed to sell his products? How can she avoid commitment? Wackiness ensues. No, not really. Boredom ensues.

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The supposed serious part of this is the increase in pharmacological assistance through depression drugs like Zoloft and Prozac, the salesmen who hawk them, and it all comes complete with a splashy song and dance number. And when Gyllenhaal’s company (Pfizer) comes out with Viagara… well, you can imagine what that does to Lothario’s drug sales.

The wrench in all this is that Hathaway has Parkinson’s disease (note shaky hand a couple of times). This is why she knows all the drug salesmen. And comes the speech: “You’re not gonna love me cause I have a disease!” (*pouts* *stomps feet*) She’s way too self-deprecating in this movie. Mean to herself and others.

He has received a horror story of the progression of the disease from someone at a conference, so suddenly it’s “Nope, I’m shallow. I don’t love you. Bye.”

Blech. At this point, who cares? She’s shrill, pouty and annoying. He’s still glib, uses sex to get his way. Who cares?

The fact that anyone anywhere mentions this dreadful movie in the context of Oscars is sad. No one in this movie (though I do love director Edward Zwick and actor Oliver Platt, but seriously…) deserves anything that has the word Oscar attached to it.

Really hated it. Don’t waste your time. Many other great movies out there instead.

Nine Is No Chicago

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The movie version of the stage musical “Nine” is much heralded. Lots of money is being spent to bring this movie to the attention of awards voters at this time. To which I say: Rob Marshall, this movie is no “Chicago.”

There is a reason that stage musicals take a long time to get to the screen: they are often difficult to translate. Nine is no exception. Nine first appeared on a Broadway stage when the sexual revolution was still hot on everyone’s breath, with promiscuity celebrated. We are now living in an AIDS-scarred world, where sex addiction is a common Oprah topic, and fidelity is celebrated.

So it’s hard to root for this world-weary hero who is supposed to be Federico Fellini. Oh, poor man. He has all these beautiful (if air-headed and emotionally unstable) actresses throwing themselves at him. He really has it rough.

And, really, he loves his wife. Yeah. OK.

To say nothing of the fact that modern audiences probably barely remember most of Fellini’s classics, though there are touches that harken back to his films throughout (and Marion Cotillard has the same eyes as his wife and muse, Giulietta Masina). Daniel Day-Lewis, the Felliniesque lead also looks starkly like Fellini’s stand-in hero, Marcello Mastroianni. There is a scene with Nicole Kidman that looks beautifully like the fountain scene from 8 1/2. Those touches are nice, as is the scenery of Italy.

Visually, the film is a treat. It alternates between black and white and color for really no apparent reason, though it is interesting to watch. The dance numbers, as expected from someone who directed the Academy Award-winning Chicago, are spectacular and lush.

We have Fergie as Fellini/Guido Contini’s first seductress doing a passionate song with the dancers using dirt for emphasis. Wonderfully staged, visually stunning. We have Kate Hudson playing a Vogue editor, doing a go-go 60s dance, and reminding all the world of her illustrious mother (Goldie Hawn, of course). We have Penelope Cruz, writhing around doing a sexy dance (which I’ve got to believe Jane Krakowski did much more with onstage). And (dear God, help us) we have Judi Dench SINGING.

Sophia Loren lusciously plays Contini’s mother, and makes you wish there were more actual Italians in the production.

But the story is thin and hard to get into. The music really isn’t as good or memorable or toe-tapping as Chicago was. Marion Cotillard was quite wonderful, but I find the rest of this production hard to recommend.

Public Enemies Least Wanted

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Blissfully, I missed Michael Mann’s Public Enemies the first time around. I wished I’d missed it the second as well. But with Oscar screenings abounding, this one was trotted out again.

It’s a mess.

Which is unusual. Normally I really love and look forward to every Michael Mann movie. Usually you can count on excellent cinematography. Neither is true here.

The main problem of the narrative is that there are really three protagonists (in the sense of whose story are you following), and all three are dislikeable. All three are essentially bad men. One is John Dillinger (Johnny Depp), the notorious criminal. Next is the man hunting our “Public Enemy No. 1,” Melvin Purvis (Christian Bale). The third is J. Edgar Hoover (Billy Crudup).

Dillinger, while charismatic and personable, is a killer and a gangster who robs banks. Purvis pushes his men to inhumane methods in the interest of trapping this one man. The mastermind behind the entire propaganda, Hoover, is seen here laying the seeds for the FBI corruption and disregard of rules to come. So, run this by me one more time: who are we supposed to be rooting for here?

Personally, I’m sick to death of revenge movies. Someone does something bad, someone else spends the entire movie trying to “get him.” Yawn. I also despise shoot ’em ups. So this movie really bored me to tears. If I wasn’t with someone, I would’ve walked out on this one midway through. There is just no point to it.

That said, I will say, there is one scene: where the hunted criminal Dillinger strolls into the “Dillinger division” of the Chicago Police Department, and peruses their bulletin boards. They don’t recognize him at all. It was quite powerful. The rest of the movie? Not so much.