REVIEW: Hyde Park on Hudson

22 01 2013

Welcome to “Whose Movie Is It Anyway?” – also known as “Hyde Park on Hudson.”  Here, you’ll get to see a multi-million dollar production that shows you what a movie is really like at the stage where it’s still being scribbled out on cocktail napkins!  To call it a first draft of something great would be generous – that is, calling it a first draft would be generous.  It hasn’t even made it to that stage yet!

Roger Michell’s slapdash film changes protagonists throughout the entire movie like Britney Spears changes outfits at a concert.  Go to the bathroom, and you’ll come back and find an entirely different storyline being pursued.  One minute, it’s the story of Laura Linney’s Margaret Suckley, a cousin of FDR portrayed here as his mistress (though that’s based on an extremely loose interpretation of her personal letters).

Then, it’s also a biopic of President Roosevelt, played as a perpetually horny tortoise by Bill Murray.  Chronicling both the personal and the political aspects of his life, it fails to provide anything mildly interesting to observe.  Not to mention, doubts about the accuracy of his affair with Margaret put the entire movie’s validity in question.

Oh, and don’t forget the history lesson that makes up most of the mid-section of “Hyde Park on Hudson.”  The King and Queen of England comes to visit FDR’s private Idaho in New York, but sadly, this companion piece to “The King’s Speech” couldn’t land Colin Firth and Helena Bonham Carter to reprise their roles.  Nor, for that matter, could it capture the same sense of gravity about an impending world war that Tom Hooper’s film conveyed so well for a film that was otherwise rather lightweight.

In essence, there are three movies in “Hyde Park on Hudson,” and you will feel it drag under the weight of that confusion.  Expect to feel like you’ve watched three full-length features … but come out only an hour and a half later from the theater.  And don’t expect some kind of great convergence that makes it all worthwhile.  The climactic scene all boils down to the consumption of hot dogs.  Not kidding.  D1star





REVIEW: The Ghost Writer

7 09 2010

There are plenty of political thrillers thrown at us each year, and despite being directed by Oscar winner Roman Polanski, “The Ghost Writer” has little to distinguish itself from the countless other entries in the genre.  Thanks to solid direction and capable acting, it definitely ranks among the upper echelon of similar movies.  Yet at the same time, there’s nothing that jumps out and makes you think “now THAT is the work of an Academy Award winning director.”  (It’s almost impossible to top “The Pianist,” and I don’t expect Polanski to do so.)

It’s your prototypical tale of intrigue involving the usual chain of events: suspicion, investigation, and ultimately startling discovery. Ewan McGregor’s Ghost takes on the lofty task of adapting the verbose memoirs of former British Prime Minister Adam Lang (Pierce Brosnan) after the first ghost writer drowns.  The Ghost senses that there might be foul play afoot in the unforeseen disappearance, and sure enough, where there’s smoke, there’s fire.  He stumbles upon a web of deceit and betrayal where allegiance and alliance are never certain.

There are some nice twists in the end, but the build-up can get a little tedious at times.  Nothing is ever boring because it is a Polanski movie, after all.  There is often an occasion where the movie thinks it’s a lot better than it is.  Maybe it’s this Polanski-instilled confidence that elevates the movie a few rungs above mediocre.  He does a good job of escalating the tension slowly over the movie until the end when it could be cut with a knife.  The tautness is also due in large part to Alexandre Desplat’s brassy score, sometimes quirky but always blaring.

In short, “The Ghost Writer” doesn’t quite measure up to the Roman Polanski standard.  But not quite measuring up to his standard is exceeding a whole lot of other ones.  B+ /