Somewhere Drives Angst in Circles

As a filmmaker, I have been entranced by Sofia Coppola. “Lost in Translation” was one of my favorite movies, not only for the way it captured the beauty of Tokyo, but also for the many ways it indicated people having a hard time communicating with each other. I was even one of the few who enjoyed the decadence of “Marie Antoinette.” It seemed to say a lot of things about the French queen and indie music at the same time. Plus, it was also visually stunning.

I should have been forewarned about “Somewhere.” The opening shot is someone (unclear who) driving a fancy expensive car, basically in circles. Very fast. For like ten minutes. I should have walked out at that moment. Cause that pretty much is the movie, right there.

The rest of it is this: Handsome superstar action hero actor bunks up at Hollywood’s Chateau Marmont, and you see his decadent life. How naked women parade in and out of his life, through the hallways sometimes. They appear to amuse him, dancing nakedly, while he mostly falls asleep. They appear to have sexual trysts with him. Then disappear. It’s an endless parade.

All of this is well and good, until suddenly his daughter appears to stay with him. Puts a bit of a crimp in his plans. So now he plays Wii and hangs by the pool and orders pizza. And wow. Isn’t this fun?

Then, they take a jaunt to Venice for a movie premiere where luscious Italian beauties also thrust themselves at him. They hang out at an Italian pool.

He comes back. Some friends come over. They leave.

This is basically the movie.

Oh poor overpaid baby. Have to suffer with Chateau Marmont’s room service. His daughter gets industrious and actually makes food in his kitchen. (I did enjoy Elle Fanning as his daughter.) Stephen Dorff is the actor.

Maybe I’m jaded because I see too many people living variations of this in Hollywood, or aspiring to variations of this. Maybe I’m bored with a movie about nothing. We get it. Everyone is alienated from each other, and boo hoo, celebrities most of all.

The big revelation of the movie, yes, I’m going to SPOIL it for you now, such as it is: at the end of the movie, he decides to move out of the Chateau Marmont. He drives his car. Somewhere. And leaves it. And starts walking.

I guess supposed to symbolize this man actually taking a stand and doing something with his life. In reality, like the rest of the movie, it just emphasizes how bored and stupid and superfluous his actions are.

Sorry, Sofia, this one bored me to tears.

Barney is So Self-Indulgent

For the first half hour of “Barney’s Version,” I wanted to walk out. I found it extremely unfunny, irritating, obnoxious and a waste of my time. Part of the problem for this is that the descriptions of this movie fall in the nebulous category, where publicists don’t know what the heck to write about it. “Barney’s cranky, and this is his life,” is about as far as they’d get.

And indeed, there’s Paul Giamatti, irrascible, puffing cigars and drinking booze from the first frame. Making crank calls to his ex-wife at 3 am. Fun stuff. Why the HELL do I want to get involved in this schmuck’s life, one asks?

Here’s why. To me, it’s the story of TRUE LOVE. How true love hits someone and doesn’t let go. And how, even when you have true love, you might just mess it up. That’s what makes it worth seeing.

Barney’s first marriage happens when his bride becomes pregnant. He does the honorable thing, and marries her. Then finds out it wasn’t even his kid. That one doesn’t end so well.

His dad (Dustin Hoffman) sets him up with his next lovely lady. And Minnie Driver is indeed lovely. And rich. What’s not to like? Well, the incessant talking, perhaps…

So, there he is, at his second wedding, surrounded by many of her relatives, everyone getting smashingly drunk. Barney most of all, pounding back the shots. When suddenly through his drunken stupor, he looks across the room and sees her. Not his freshly-minted wife. His true love. And it hits him like an oncoming train.

He ventures closer and starts talking to her. She sees he is drunk. But they do hit it off. He abruptly leaves his own wedding to chase her to the train heading back to New York. And so it begins.

So there was the reason that made me sit in my seat for the rest of the movie, and be rewarded. How can this schlub of a man find true love with such a beautiful woman? But there it is, clear as day.

The film is based on the writings of Mordecai Richler. The film is dedicated to him.

It is packed with a cast of many stunning acting talents. Scott Speedman, for example, looks like sunshine made real as the charming playboy in Italy.

But the revelation, not surprisingly, since she’s been the revelation of several movies of late (Made in Dagenham notably this season, and An Education last) is Rosamund Pike. She is gorgeous, refined, wonderful as a counterpoint to Barney.

It’s sad and kind of tragic that Barney chose to live his life the way he wanted to: drinking, smoking big cigars and watching hockey games with the boys at the local bar. The love of his life chose to grow and evolve. But it’s very interesting to see how all these pieces fall into place.

So trust me. The beginning may be annoying, but all in all, Barney’s Version is a good ride through someone’s life. I really do wanna see “Miriam’s Version” next, though.

Nine Is No Chicago

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.