Today's review: The Dancer Upstairs (DVD)
Starring: Javier Bardem, Laura Morante
Directed by: John Malkovich
Rating: 2.5 (out of 5)
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The Naked Critic
Ooooh...it's a movie about political strife. In most cases, this means one
thing, and one thing only...PRETENSION TIME!
Oh, stop shaking your head. You know it's true. Movies like this, the ones that
are marketed to the "Art House" crowd, are the biggest cons in the
biz. I love art as much as the next person. Most of the movies I see are at the
rep house near my apartment, and I love them. But sooner or later, you have to
draw a line. For every truly great film like "Amelie", there's a half
dozen pretentious pieces of crap.
I'll give you an example. Last year, I got suckered into the hype and went to
see "Y Tu Mama Tambien" at my local art house. I'd heard it was
brilliant. I'd heard it was a genius piece of filmmaking. What did I see?
I saw 2 bisexual Mexican kids carrying on like Stifler from "American
Pie" for 2 hours.
Now, don't get me wrong..."Y Tu Mama Tambien" is a fine movie...a
good movie even. But was it the great foreign triumph I'd been led to believe?
Not by a long shot. It was a teen-road-sex comedy, plain and simple. But this
isn't the thing that offended me.
No, what offended me was the douchebag outside the theater when I left. You
know the guy...he was wearing perfectly round glasses to give him that
pseudo-intellectual look. He wore a beret. His clothes, from his hemp jacket to
his cargo pants, were all bought new, but distressed by him to make them LOOK
like they were second-hand. He was smoking those weird French cigarettes. 20
years ago, he'd have been wearing a tweed jacket with elbow patches. He wore
his hair long, to make up for the balding parts in the front that the beret was
no doubt covering. He was holding court with 2 young, University-aged girls,
and one of them asked what he thought. He paused, took a drag of his cigarette
and posed...actually POSED...looking off thoughtfully for a second, and
responded, "I thought it was...transcendent."
Yes...transcendent. A movie about 2 horny bi 18 year olds was being
characterized as being "Transcendent." He then went on to say
"Hollywood (insert derisive snort here) would NEVER make a movie this
bold."
Horseshit.
If Hollywood had made "Y Tu Mama Tambien", it would have starred
Jason Biggs and Seann William Scott, and it would have been lambasted far and
wide as being a sexually explicit piece of junk. Add some subtitles, and all of
a sudden that same movie is "Transcendent"? Bite me, you
pseudo-intellectual tool.
Interesting side note: the girl I was dating at the time agreed with him after
my very similar rant in the parking lot, and was convinced that I "just
didn't get it". I pushed her and got her to admit that if the same movie
HAD been made starring Jason Biggs and Seann William Scott, she wouldn't have
liked it. But apparently I had "missed the point".
We're no longer together.
Anyway, the point I was trying to make after this long off-topic rant was that
"The Dancer Upstairs" is the kind of movie that is meant to appeal to
beret-boy (Whom, you'll be happy to know, I didn't thump...but should have.)
and his ilk. To paraphrase the great Michael J. Nelson, they sit in the art
house, reeking of patchouli, and mutter things like "So true" every
time a scene of political strife appears on screen. This is why I love the DVD
medium. I can watch this movie, which I actually wanted to see, without dealing
with Beret-boy and his minions from the land of
"I'm-smarter-than-you."
Plus, I was hoping, PRAYING, that it wouldn't be as pretentious as I thought it
could be. After all, it's directed by John Malkovich...and he's cool.
Right?
So I pop it in. The movie starts, and the stark white-on-black credits roll.
And roll. And roll. Two full minutes after the movie starts, and the credits
are still rolling, with NOTHING else on screen.
Uh oh.
Oh, wait...here's something. Headlights. It appears to be some sort of vehicle,
driving in the dead of night. This could go somewhere.
And they drive, and drive, and drive. They drive in silence, listening to the
spoken-word intro of a Nina Simone recording. And then
thzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Oh, sorry. Must have drifted off there.
At this point, my "Pretension Alarm" is going off so loud, my
neighbors have started banging on the walls.
A full 4 minutes in, there hasn't been a WORD of dialogue yet. Then they hit a
roadside police officer and continue going. They're still listening to Nina
Simone speaking.
"Why does she talk?"
"She's preparing to sing."
The guy who asked nods sagely, and they continue to drive in silence. Soon they
tzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Huh? Wha'? Oh, sorry...drifted off again.
Finally, at what feels like the 7-hour mark, we're informed that the events in
this film take place in "Latin America" in "The Recent
Past". Our vehicular-homicide buddies are stopped at another checkpoint.
Despite the fact that they have blood on their bumper from the first cop, they
don't have much of a problem. Javier Bardem takes a picture of one of them for
his papers, natters on that he's being promoted, and lets them go.
Now, finally, 18 hours after the movie has started, we get to the good stuff.
It's now 5 years later. The droopy-eyed Bardem, as it turns out, is Augustin
Rejas, one of the only honest cops in the country. He's put in charge of an
investigation into the terrorist activities of someone known only by the
cryptic name "Ezequiel", named after the Biblical prophet. Upset over
the political iniquities in this unnamed country, Ezequiel does things like
hanging dead dogs from lampposts with signs that read things like "When I
hear the word 'culture', I reach for my pistol." The group he leads is
getting more brazen, with the assassination of key military officials. NOW this
is getting good!
Rejas is also a dedicated family man. His wife, who is nice enough, is also
obsessed with her physical appearance, while the two of them struggle to put
their daughter through ballet classes and
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Oh, sorry...did I do that again?
In the midst of his investigation, he meets and falls in love with his
daughter's ballet teacher Yolanda (Laura Morante). There's nothing special
about this teacher, and nothing wrong with his wife...but I guess he has to
fall in love with someone.
Meanwhile, things are getting messier with Ezequiel. His group is becoming more
brazen, and orchestrating blackouts, during which time he sends coded messages
to his followers using fireworks. It's especially frustrating for Rejas, who
figures out that this terrorist is the same man he photographed at his
checkpoint years earlier. It has nothing to do with anything, but seems to
bother him anyway.
The bitch of it is, this isn't a bad movie. It's pretty interesting. But it
takes you so long to get to the good stuff that your will to live has been
sucked out of your body by force, leaving you an empty, sad shell of a human,
shaking your head and muttering "So true...so true," while
considering the possibilities of obtaining an all-hemp wardrobe.
Performance-wise, I have no beefs either. Bardem proves that he's one of the
most gifted actors on the planet. His rather extravagant performance in
"Before Night Falls" is contrasted by a wonderfully moving,
restrained performance here. Who knew eyes that heavy-lidded and drowsy-looking
could be so telling?
I place the blame on director Malkovich. His years of experience, plus the fact
that he could be the best actor alive, allow him to coax wonderful performances
from his cast. But he has no idea what pace is. The movie is all wonderful
acting and beautiful photography, but it drags, drags, drags. The 2+ hours run
time (which feels like about a week and a half) could have been easily trimmed
by at least 20 minutes without missing a damn thing.
Now, he's working from good source material...nothing less than Shakespeare, as
a matter of fact. Well, Nicholas Shakespeare, anyway, but Shakespeare
nonetheless. Which is fitting, because it feels longer than "Hamlet".
But my other problem is with the love story. It's pointless. Rejas and Yolanda
fall in love, but neither of them is missing anything in their lives. If
anything, you like Rejas LESS for falling for this dancer. It becomes apparent
toward the end of the movie how the stories are interrelated, but you
juszzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Sorry...I keep doing that. As I was saying, you just don't care. There's no
reason for them to fall in love, other than to add weight to the end of the
movie. And by that time, you're just glad it's over.
I want to see what Malkovich does next as a director, because he shows a lot of
promise. Maybe we can take up a collection and buy him an editor though,
because I couldn't sit through another 6-month long movie.
As far as the DVD goes, I don't think I'm surprising anyone by saying there
aren't any deleted scenes. I was tempted to watch it again, even for a few
minutes, with the director's commentary. But then logic got the better of me. I
mean, have you ever heard the man TALK? This slow movie with his laconic drawl?
It could send you into a coma.
At any rate, I should probably wrap things up. If you wear a beret and smoke
French cigarettes, you'll probably like this as well. As for the rest of
us...if you rent or buy this, clear your schedule, because you'll be busy for
a...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
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