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BradH812
Holy Cardinal and Five Star General of the Righteous Knighthood of Jabootu
USA
1294 Posts |
 Posted - 10/28/2006 : 9:53:40 PM
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Before I begin, let me point out that if you hop on over to www.dvdverdict.com, you can find a very good review of Beyond Borders that spells out EXACTLY what I was thinking after seeing this movie (the reviewer may have been psychic), and it’s a lot more concise than I’ll be. There is one point it doesn’t bring up, concerning tonight’s “hero,” and I’ll no doubt hammer it into the ground, but there you go. Okay, those of you still here, read on.
About eighteen months ago, I had a new experience. Unfortunately, it did not involve Amy Lee of Evanescence and lots of whipped cream. Uh, er, um, where was I? Okay, back on track.
My friend Diane and her sister Tori invited me over to their place for dinner and a movie. The good news was, dinner wasn’t half bad. The bad news: since they served dinner, Diane and Tori would pick the movie. I love Diane to death, but our tastes in movies, uh, differ. In the spirit of diplomacy, I settled in, and Tori whipped out a bunch of tapes she’d raided from Blockbuster’s used movie bin. One of them was Beyond Borders. While she was getting it ready, I glanced at the box. Angelina Jolie was headlining it. Rounding out the cast were Clive Owen (don’t really like him, but he can act), Teri Polo, Linus Roache, Noah Emmerich (no doubt playing the Laid Back Nice Dude). Hmmmm. Written by Caspian Tredwell-Owen (now there’s a helluva name). Directed by Martin Campbell. Not the first choice I’d make for a director of a serious movie involving famine relief workers, but.... I’d heard the movie wasn’t very good, but I didn’t say anything, being gracious and all. Besides, it had Angelina in it (homina homina homina), and it may not be a classic, but maybe it would be watchable for a couple of hours.
(Long pause)
Okay, around this time, I had been getting on the Jabootu website for about six months. I had seen some of the movies it reviewed previously, and I had seen a couple of them since reading about ’em. But I had never seen a movie fresh, for the first time, and literally thought This is a Jabootu review waiting to happen. Until now.
Ten minutes in, the movie did something that had my jaw hitting the floor. For a moment, I couldn’t believe it. A part of me thought, It CAN’T get any worse than this, can it? Another part of me said, Yep. Unfortunately, that other part was right.
I made a mental note to write a review of it first chance I got. But I couldn’t bring myself to pay money to rent the video again. Well, I got a free rental last week, so there’s no more excuses. A warning: I will try to keep this review light-hearted, and keep from becoming the Angry Reviewer, but It won’t be easy: this movie wasn’t just bad, it was offensive.
Enough gabbin’! Away we go!
After the Paramount Pictures and Mandalay Pictures logos play out, the opening titles appear, almost literally one word at a time, a warning sign that we’re in for a particularly pretentious “film.” A bit of classical piano music plays, then we fade up to reveal Angelina Jolie playing the piano in the living room of a mansion. There are a few shots of her playing, done with slow camera moves and ponderous dissolves. And Angelina narrates some tripe about how people wonder what their purpose in life is, and if their current course is fulfilling that purpose. Or, uh, something like that (The actual voiceover is even more pompous; I considered putting it in as Immortal Dialogue, but I didn’t have the heart to write it down.) We learn that Angelina’s supposedly talking to someone in her thoughts. Ooooooh, wait’ll you meet the piece of work she’s thinking about.
Now we go back several years. Angelina’s sporting the same hairstyle Uma Thurman had in Pulp Fiction, and she’s dancing with a fella at a big famine relief charity ball. The room is full of black tie sorts, and a cover band plays “Should I Stay Or Should I Go.”
Outside, a pair of Smoldering British Eyes look at the convention center, as a subtitle reveals it is London 1984. The Smoldering British Eyes belong to Clive Owen. He holds a young black kid in a dirty parka close to him.
Inside, Teri Polo arrives, fashionably late. She greets Angelina, and we have some dialogue that’s supposed to be His-Girl-Friday style, but comes across as what it is: bad exposition. It wouldn’t be much worse if Jolie turned to the camera and said, “My character’s name is Sarah Bauford, Teri Polo is my sister Charley, Linus Roache is my new husband Henry, and that couple sitting at the small dinner table are his parents.” After this bit, Charley says she’s a mess (she’s not; she looks like she’s just come from the make-up room), so she and Sara go to ladies’ room to freshen up and have a little girl talk. I noticed two things about these sisters: (1) they don’t look like sisters, and (2), more damning, they don’t act like sisters. This was all the more obvious when I first saw the movie. For comparison, Diane and Tori look nothing alike, but spend two minutes with them and you can tell that Diane will tease Tori mercilessly in good times and defend her like a pit bull in bad; you don’t get this from Angelina and Teri, at all. Sarah comments that Henry is “very sweet and funny and wild.” Charley responds, “He’s very English.” Somehow, I get the feeling that Henry, who seems to be a perfectly decent sort of guy, won’t be the romantic interest in this movie. Some more dialogue reveals that Charley’s a news reporter doing small stuff, but hoping to rise to the top. This is done pretty quickly, and it might be an example of efficient exposition, if it didn’t have EXPOSITION written all over it.
They go back into the ballroom, where Henry is getting up to call for a round of applause for Dad, who is the chairman of “Aid Relief International.” Henry’s dad seems to be uncomfortable, and I got the feeling that any modesty he shows about the applause will be genuine. In short, Dad’s not your stereotypical rich jerk. Remember this... because outside the ballroom, we hear a tray of champagne glasses crash to the ground. Here comes the pain, baby!
Clive comes barging in, shoving his way to the podium. Sarah is somehow knocked to the ground, although the disturbance doesn’t reach her or her hubby’s family until after she gets up. Clive grabs their champagne and continues up to the mic, all but dragging the kid with him. He pours out the champagne and starts berating the crowd, saying how all their charity money is going into galas like this one (and he has no way of knowing if some of the caterers or organizers did this for free, but he doesn’t care). He takes off the kid’s coat to reveal that the kid is wearing rags underneath. He continues to spew sarcasm, mixed with a few f-words, finally revealing what his beef was: Dad cut funding for the area Clive was working in. Dad tries to reason with this guy, whom he calls “Dr. Callahan,” but the good Doctor is clearly not interested in listening, so we never learn if Dad had a good reason for cutting the funding. You see, here’s this guy’s modus operandi: go in like Sherman marching into Atlanta, cuss everyone out, treat everyone around him with contempt, and bully everyone into funding whatever operation he’s working on. Hey Doc, don’t look now, but these people you’re insulting are your benefactors! This is not the way to win over a crowd. At one point, he goes into a monologue about what is going on in the refugee camps. I don’t know how accurate it is (later dialogue will imply that it’s exaggerated), but one can’t help noticing that his speech was shot and acted exactly — and I do mean exactly — like Whip Dalton’s monologue about giant squids in The Beast. He dares Dad to give a response. I imagine Dad could make mincemeat out of this lout any number of ways, but before he can speak, someone throws a banana onto the floor. A $1,000-a-plate gala, and some brought a banana with them! This SCREAMS It’s In The Script. The crowd starts laughing at The Good Doctor, and considering the way he’s acted, I can’t blame them.
Doc takes the banana, peels it, and gives it to the kid. He accuses the crowd of comparing the kid to a monkey, and then (oh, man, I’m typing this, and I still can’t believe it) entices the kid to make monkey-style oooh oooh aaah aaah noises.
Now, two things came to my mind. First, this kid was here, period. How in the hell did Dr. Callahan get him into the country?! Second, the kid is wearing the same rags he wore in Ethiopia! In other words, Doc has no problem with abusing this crowd, telling them they don’t give a damn about kids like this, but he won’t take ten minutes to get the boy a set of warm clothes!
If I were in that room, I hope I’d be man enough to do two things. First, I’d take the kid aside and make sure he got medical attention and a decent meal. Then I’d shove that banana right up the Doc’s ass! But Sarah has her gaze fixed on the kid, and tears start welling up. You gotta be kidding me.
This couldn’t be any more obvious. Owen might as well have made the announcement, “Hello, ladies and gentlemen, my name is Clive Owen, and I’ll play your Designated Hero this evening.” THIS was the moment I realized we were in the presence of the Horned One himself.
The Doc is ambushed by a couple of the partygoers, and Dad is shown glaring at Doc, in an attempt to make Dad look like the callous nabob Doc accuses him of being. Doc is hauled outta there and transported to a police van. He and the kid are separated, and the kid is taken to Immigration Services. In a very badly contrived bit at Immigration, the kid slips away from the policemen and is left out in the cold.
Later that night, Doc is released, and he is met outside by one of the partygoers, who says he paid his bail. We can tell they’re outside the police station, because there’s a big sign in the background reading (I kid you not) “POLICE STATION.” (Future Brad: In the director’s commentary, Martin Campbell reveals that this idiotic sign was put in digitally in post, because they were worried the troglodytes in the audience couldn’t figure out where this scene took place. It tells us something about Campbell’s mindset, and it ain’t good.) The guy calls himself Steiger, but I’ll call him Mr. CIA; the doctor says this guy’s CIA, and we all know how honest and caring Doc is, right? Mr. CIA wants Doc to help him get into Ethiopia to do some dirty work. Doc refuses outright, even after Mr. CIA throws his own words back in his face. You see, Callahan will yell at civilians for cutting funding, but he won’t accept funding from the CIA, because we all know that the CIA is eee-villl! (Imagine I’m imitating Mermaidman from Spongebob Squarepants whenever you see this. Yep, you’ll see it again. *grin*) The guy playing Mr. CIA goes way over the top, all but twirling his mustache, but Mr. CIA seems more reasonable than The Good Doctor; I really liked his accusation that the Doc is more interested in getting attention than help. He’s right. If you need proof, consider this; Callahan makes no effort whatsoever to find the kid.
Here’s an example of how stupid this movie can get. Mr. CIA was at the gala (a couple of brief shots showed him there), and he was waiting for the Heroic Doctor outside the station. In other words, Mr. CIA knew the Doc was gonna storm this little get-together in a way that would get him a free ride in this neat car with blue lights on top to this neat building with bars around its guest rooms! What is this guy, psychic?! Ah, yes, it gets better, O fellow believers.
The next morning, Charley and Sarah have another clunky (and thankfully short) bit of dialogue before Charley heads home. Then Sarah sees a report on the TV that the kid froze to death the night before. Finally, we have the Good Doctor’s full name: Nicholas Callahan. Good. Nick rhymes with a couple of other choice words. We’re supposed to feel angry at the crowd of rich folks for neglecting the boy, but let us refer to that bit about warm clothes. It wouldn’t be much of a stretch to say Nick is guilty of manslaughter here; he’s the one who created this situation. Of course, he’ll never have to really answer for it.
There’s a goofy scene of Sarah cringing at Henry buying art. Here’s a hint for filmmakers: if you’re as gifted as Orson Welles, you can make the symbolism as obvious as you like. Otherwise, look up SUBTLETY in the dictionary.
Sarah decides to raid all her bank accounts and donate 40,000 pounds to Nick’s famine relief group... and she’s going to transport the supplies herself. Henry is against it, basically telling her not to go off half-cocked, saying this isn’t the grown-up way to do things. (And he’s right.) Sarah’s response: “Maybe I don’t want to grow up!” Henry seems to be the more rational of these two, yes? But he backs down, letting her go on her little trip. He won’t be along for the ride, because he’s not Clive Owen. Besides, Henry has to stay home and do a little something called working.
And we’re off to sunny, scenic Ethiopia! The music beginning this sequence strikes just the wrong tone. Normally, I’m a fan of James Horner. Yeah, he rips off his own material too much, but I like the guy’s work. Horner has one serious problem, though: when he pours on the schmaltz, look out! And that’s the case here.
Sarah rides in a truck, with all the medicines and whatnot she bought in the back; the truck is heading up a convoy. Her driver gives a grocery list of all that’s going on in Ethiopia, and I want to take Caspian Tredwell Owen aside and tell him that there’s a place for sermons: in church on Sunday mornings and Wednesday evenings. Oh, Sarah’s wearing a beautiful white outfit and matching hat and sunglasses... and not a drop of sweat on her.
They drive through a field loaded with starving people, and Sarah gets the driver to stop the truck when she sees a young boy lying in the field nearby. The kid is emaciated, and I mean SKELETAL emaciated (in the commentary, Campbell states they got a healthy child to play the part, and used CGI to make him look like he was at death’s door). His mother lies wounded, and probably dying, a few feet away. Sarah gets mother and child on board the truck, over the driver’s protests. The filmmakers no doubt thought this would be a surefire way to tug at the heartstrings. Instead, it looks creepy, like they have no problem exploiting people like these to sell some tickets (which gives some insight into why they would put a guy like Nick up on a pedestal). Also, the driver grumbles that picking these two up is a waste of time; all things considered, she’s probably right. This kind of toughness actually makes sense, but does anyone want to bet whether the kid will be miraculously saved?
The truck breaks down, and Sarah decides to go sightseeing while they’re working on repairing it. I wouldn’t blame the driver if she decided to leave this bimbo behind. Sarah climbs up to a ridge to see the refugee camp below; it’s enormous. Horner pumps up the schmaltz, as the camera does a sweeping move to reveals Sarah’s shock astonishment dull boredom.
I’m on page seven of this review already, but there’s just so much that’s wrong with this flick, not the least of which is Angelina Jolie’s performance. It consists of two expressions: glassy-eyed and weepy, and glassy-eyed with dull surprise (at least, that’s what it’s supposed to be). Jolie’s in way over her head here. I’m not saying Angelina can’t act; she can. But her range is very limited. She only really clicks when playing one part: crazy-sexy. As in, if I met her in a bar and she asked me to go home with her, I’d fear I might not be alive the next morning — but I’d go; it’d be worth the risk. Her good performances — Gia, Girl, Interrupted, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, Tomb Raider — all are variations on that character. When she steps away from it, she falls flat. This isn’t a criticism. Quite a few actors have made careers out of playing one character, including Steve McQueen. McQueen knew his strengths and limits, and he chose his parts accordingly (leading him to turn down — correctly, IMO — the lead in Close Encounters of the Third Kind). The result? When you saw a Steve McQueen movie, you knew what you were gonna get: the coolest bad-ass on the face of the Earth. And we loved him for it. Of course, Jolie has an extra problem: Hollywood doesn’t want to believe a crazy-sexy femme fatale can exist over the age of 35. Still, she ought to stick to playing this part and taking her chances with it. If she continues to make crap like Beyond Borders, she’ll drop out of sight before long, and she’ll have no one but herself to blame.
Sarah returns to the convoy to see several military jeeps pull up. They try to confiscate some of the bags of grain in one of the trucks. A bag spills open, and the people around them swarm the place, starting a riot. The military guys are armed with machine guns, so it’ll be pretty one-sided. The depiction of a military junta using famine as a weapon isn’t a huge revelation, but for the first time, the movie may be playing fair, showing a little honesty....
Nope, strike that. Here comes the cavalry. Our Hero, Doctor Nick. He and his right-hand man, Elliott (Noah Emmerich) ride in, essentially bribing the army guys to get the food and medicine in. Isn’t it interesting, though, that the only person Nick actually REASONS with is a violent thug who clearly has no problem shooting unarmed civilians. Of course, the guy is backed up with some firepower, but still. Nick walks by Sarah, sneering out, “Welcome to famine relief.” He shows respect to a cold-blooded murderer, but he scorns someone who, however naïve, is willing to help him out. See how this works?
There are some establishing shots of the camp, including a moment where the mechanism in a water pump (at least, I think that’s what it is) breaks down. We meet other members of Nick’s entourage, including an Australian guy and a blonde woman whose hair is in cornrows (and she’s wearing a shirt that reads, “What if they turned their back on Einstein”; SHEESH!). For now, I’ll just let that be their names: Aussie Guy and Cornrows. More Hornerschmaltz (Jamie, how could you?), and the whole thing feels, well, false, like a set. The photography is a bit too sharp, everything is a bit too perfect. This may sound strange, but it’s the best way I can describe it: it’s all a little too shiny. Methinks Martin Campbell should stick to escapist action flicks (although, from what I’ve heard about The Legend of Zorro, he my be losing his touch in THAT category as well). Anyway, Sarah goes to Nick and gets him to check on the mother, Nick says she’s too far gone. Sarah argues this. For the first time, Nick has a valid point; sometimes there’s just nothing to be done. My goodwill evaporated pretty fast when he continued to treat her with utter contempt, all but spitting in her face. (Nick never heard the phrase, “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”) Sarah continues to press her point, and Nick looks over to Elliott, who says that checking the mother and child “Seems fair.” That’s when one realizes that Elliott is the peacemaker of this group. I’ll have more to say about Elliott, and Noah Emmerich, very shortly. Nick gets Cornrows (whose real name is Kat) to come and help out. We never learn much about Cornrows, or anyone else in Nick’s team. They’re pretty much extras disguised as actors; I doubt they say more than fifty words combined in the whole film.
Let’s get back to Elliott for a moment. It’s little wonder Noah Emmerich has been called on before to play the Laid-Back Nice Dude: he does it so well, and this is no exception. Elliott is one of only two truly likeable characters in this movie (Henry’s the other). Maybe he’s a bit bland to play a leading man, and his character may be Too Good To Be True, but if I were a relief worker, I’d much rather have a guy like Elliott representing me than someone like Nick. Elliott is warm, charming, friendly, and humble. One suspects that he is a truly kind and decent man in private. In other words, he’s everything that Nick is not. Interestingly, Sarah has better chemistry with Elliott than with Nick; Jolie’s only moments of good acting in this film are when she’s paired off with Emmerich. Unfortunately, all of this can only mean one thing: Elliott has a big target painted on his forehead. There’s no way in hell this guy will be alive in the last reel.
Elliott gives Sarah the guided tour, revealing that Nick is the resident doctor and “team leader” and that he himself handles the nuts-and-bolts operations of the camp. The info he gives Sarah about the camp is nothing you haven’t seen if you’ve seen commercials for, say, Christian Children’s Fund or similar charities, but Noah Emmerich makes it go down pretty easy. He tells Sarah that the supplies she bought will only last about four days. Of course, Nick would have sneered at her once again, but Elliott’s tone seems to say, “Don’t feel bad; it’s four days more than we had before.” When Sarah goes into the hospital itself (which would be disturbing, except that, once again, it all feels staged), Elliott stays a few steps behind her. I had no trouble believing he could be a good calming presence around here.
Sarah goes into the operating room, where Nick and Cornrows work on the mother, a coupla of extras team members assisting them. Nick welcomes her in with his usual derision, saying this isn’t what you see in med school (Well, DUH!). He then notices that Sarah is wearing perfume. Ten bucks says that Caspian Tredwell-Owen based this on a similar incident involving Princess Diana. One problem: that little tidbit made Princess Di look like an unholy fool; the same thing happens here with Sarah. Nick laughs in her face, and for once, he’s right. But he continues to berate her, pausing in the surgery to do so. Amazingly, no one says, “Save the speeches for later and tend to your patient, Doctor.” At one point, though, after he lays on how the mother is “beyond pain,” Sarah challenges him to ask the patient herself. Now, Nick SHOULD have been put in his place. But the mother actually supports Nick, calling him “medahani” — He Who Steals From Death.” Terrific. Like Nick didn’t already have a Christ complex. (Does this sound cynical? Probably, and I’m beginning to sound like Nick himself. But when a movie hits you over the head with a baseball bat like this one is doing, while lionizing a boor like Nick, cynicism is more than called for.)
Next scene. Sarah keeps trying to give the child some milk, but it’s not working. Nick walks by, abusing her as usual. Sarah basically tells him to shove it up his ass (with the banana, one wishes). Nick finally, FINALLY shows her some humanity, telling her how to feed the kid properly. By this time, though, it’s a week late and fifty bucks short.
After hitting us over the head yet again with a shot of a mass gravesite, the movie goes to Nick and his cadre sitting around a fire, trying to make plans for the next day. Again, it all seems staged, so that Sarah (and the audience) can see what they’re planning to do next. Two points come up: the water pump is, indeed, on its last legs, and a local government official is coming in the next morning for a bit of negotiation. As they get up to leave, Nick tells Sarah, literally as an afterthought, that the mother died that day. Will someone please just kick this guy in the crotch? I wonder what REAL relief workers thought of this clown.
Nick and Elliott go through more info for the audience. They’re out of money and will have to pull up stakes in a couple of weeks. Elliott rattles off some charity organization names so the movie can have some “weight,” saying that no one’s supporting them, not even Elliott’s father (yep, clunky and forced). Nick suggests resorting to Mr. CIA. Elliott nixes it out of hand, because we all know the CIA is ee-villl. (Elliott’s still more of a class act than Nick’ll ever be, and his stubbornness could have been used to parlay him into a three-dimensional character. If only Clive Owen weren’t the leading man here.) I wanted to ask these two one question: did it ever occur to them that their team leader may be the reason why funding’s drying up?
They hear music coming up from the camp somewhere. It’s Sarah, playing the same piece she was playing at the beginning of the movie. Here’s a poser: if they don’t have funding from anyone, anywhere, where in the hell did they get a PIANO to cart out here?! Nick teleports himself from the hill overlooking the camp to the tent where Sarah’s playing (seriously, she plays in real time, and he’s there in ten seconds!) and listens for a bit. Later on, Sarah’s washing her feet in her tent (which is WAY overlit, considering she has only a lantern and a candle there), and Nick comes in, rattling off some poetry, lyrics from Schumann. When I first saw this with Diane and Tori, it didn’t register that Nick and Sarah are making goo goo eyes at each other. My brain simply would not accept where this movie was going. Now that I’m watching it again, it’s obvious. It doesn’t make what’s gonna happen later on any less sickening.
Anyway, Nick gives some phony encouragement that Sarah’s feeding technique might help the baby, so she goes back and tries to feed him again. Elliott looks on and gives a little smile. God bless Noah Emmerich; he manages to do this without looking foolish. Unfortunately, we fade to a sweeping helicopter shot of the camp, done to music that just keeps getting worse and worse. Remember, I like James Horner’s work. And I wanted to punch the guy out at this point. Oh, it gets worse. The driver (I think her name is Tula, but I forget names here; Elliott is the only one of the group given a real personality) calls Sarah into the hospital tent. Lo and behold, the kid is revived! She brought him back to life!
Do I have to even say how phony this all feels? The kid is still horribly emaciated (and again, this comes across as creepy and exploitive), and it’s anyone’s guess whether he’ll live another day or not. Guess what. We never see the kid again. We don’t learn anything of his fate, because the filmmakers don’t care.
Now it’s time for Nick and Elliott to have a parlay with the government official, asking for more food and more security, so they won’t have to worry about armed thugs coming in and stealing said food. Elliott tries to reason with the guy. Three guesses how Nick behaves. Ay-yi-yi, I want to STRANGLE this jack-ass! Again, Elliott is perhaps the lone honest voice here; he sighs in exasperation, realizing that Nick is guaranteeing that the official won’t help them. Nick isn’t just a king-sized dickhead; he’s incredibly stupid. Finally, the official loses patience with Nick, and he reminds the audience that, oh yeah, Nick smuggled a kid out of the country and left him to die in Jolly Olde England! He says that Nick is “under serious investigation for this.” It would be refreshing, but does anything come of this? Nope.
After the meeting, the official has to have his van towed away: the team stole his driveshaft and are using it to repair the water pump. Of course, the official doesn’t have them arrested for this. But it’s interesting. Nick is the only one who doesn’t smile when it’s revealed the pump will work now. No, he glowers for the umpty-eleventh time and growls that they need Mr. CIA now. And who made sure you wouldn’t have anyone else to turn to, eh, Doc?
That night, Sarah goes to Nick’s tent, supposedly to drop some more money off, since she’s leaving the next day. She asks Nick if the camp will be shut down. Nick’s answer: “Probably. But we always turn up again, somewhere.” Remember that. In a few minutes, this movie will get even more surreal. Sarah asks Nick why he’s so difficult. (Ooh! Ooh! I know! Because he’s a prick!) Ah, yes, he belittles her, abuses her, treats her like crap, and her complaint? That he never calls her by her name! (Groan.) Nick’s response is another monologue (it’s more civilized now; instead of boorish, he’s merely smug and boring). It includes a half-hearted apology for hauling that kid up to England and letting him freeze to death. The thing is, if you really feel remorse, you need to back it up. Will Nick change his ways? Just wait and see. Anyway, after almost three minutes, he gets to the point: it’s easier to function around here if you don’t assign names to people. There’s just one flaw with this reasoning: Sarah isn’t a patient. But that’s never mentioned. I copied this whole bit from the IMDb and pasted it below; scroll down to Immortal Dialogue and read it if you like (it’s l-o-o-o-ng), and consider this rewrite: Sarah complains about Nick not calling her by name and Nick looks her in the eye and says, honestly, “I’m sorry. Occupational hazard, it’s nothing personal. Around here, it’s much easier if you don’t give people names.” Eighteen words, ten seconds, and it gets the point across, without reminding us all what a jerk Nick is. HOW much did you get paid to write this, Caspian?
Elliott sees Sarah off the next day, and once again, Angelina Jolie shows much more chemistry with Noah Emmerich than she does with Clive Owen. Her scenes with Elliott are the only times she seems relaxed; one suspects that Jolie and Emmerich enjoyed working together and got to be friends. Elliott gives Sarah a contact number for UNHCR (the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees), so she can keep working on relief efforts. Nick watches her go from afar, Longing In His Eyes (hey, it was about that subtle in the movie, too).
Around this point, Diane stopped the tape so we could take a bathroom break. She asked me what I thought of the movie. I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, so I kept it quick and simple, saying, “That guy Nick is a real a$$hole, and they’re telling us he’s the hero?” Diane nodded a little. She knows me well enough to know I wanted to say a whole lot more, and I got a vibe off her telling me she agreed. Tori didn’t say anything (after all, she PAID for the damned thing), but she wasn’t exactly jumping in to defend it, either. |
Edited by - BradH812 on 10/28/2006 10:32:02 PM
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BradH812
Holy Cardinal and Five Star General of the Righteous Knighthood of Jabootu
USA
1294 Posts |
Posted - 10/28/2006 : 9:56:32 PM
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I’m don’t know why I didn’t just say my goodbyes and leave. But one relieved bladder later, we all sat back to watch the rest of this train wreck.
The subtitle informs us that it is now London, 1989. Henry comes home, looking tired and discouraged. Sarah (now with long hair, a la Tomb Raider) asks Henry to read their son a story then tuck him in. Sonny Boy is four years old, at most, but he is clearly played by a kid at least seven or eight. Ah, it’s our old friend, Clunky Exposition. Sarah’s the breadwinner now. Henry’s out of work, and his Dad “lost everything in the market crash, like everyone else.” That’s a direct quote. Sarah shows very little sympathy for Henry. Okay, woman, you’re the one making a living for the household now, but your husband’s just trying to do right by his family. Henry begs Sarah to call someone to take Sonny Boy to school so he can look for work (and Angelina Jolie visibly mouths Linus Roache’s dialogue as he says it), then cuts him off cold. Great. She started off ditzy and naïve. Now she’s a bitch. No exaggeration; she treats Henry like dirt, even when he’s clearly bending over backwards to reason with her. Where could THIS be leading, we wonders? (Amazingly, I failed to catch it yet again when watching the movie with Diane and Tori. My mind just wouldn’t wrap itself around what the filmmakers were pulling.)
Now we see Sarah at work. She’s badgering some co-worker on the phone. It’s quieter than Nick’s rants, but she’s clearly picked up some of his less desirable traits. On TV, Charley reports on the tearing down of the Berlin Wall. Looks like she got that national anchor gig, but God only knows how she did it: Teri Polo’s reading of the news story is terrible. She comes across as a reporter for Entertainment Tonight, not as a national anchor. I had to cram my fist in my mouth to keep from breaking into a rendition of “Dirty Laundry” (the Don Henley original, NOT that hack cover by Elvis’s spawn, thank you), specifically, the part where we “got the bubble-headed bleach blonde, comin’ on at fi-i-i-i-ive!” Then Sarah gets a call from Elliott. He’s in London, and he asks if she’d like to meet up.
She drives home to pick up some stuff for Sonny Boy, only to find Henry there, with another woman (whom Sarah apparently knows). No, she doesn’t catch them in bed; they’re in the living room, talking. This was, I think, meant to show us that Henry was cheating on her, so we won’t hate Sarah for what she’ll do later. The problem is, they don’t look or behave like lovers caught in the act. Henry’s explanation for why he isn’t looking for work (his interviews were all cancelled) is supposed to seem lame, but it makes sense; the interviews were cancelled, Henry needed a shoulder to cry on (and Sarah certainly wouldn’t provide it), so he called up an old friend. Linus Roache acts the scene in a way that he may very well be telling the truth.
So Sarah goes and sits on a park bench, while I rub my fingers together and say it’s the world’s smallest violin playing for her. Elliott comes along and greets her. Clunky Expo drops by as well; Nick’s team was in Pakistan several months ago, and now they’re in Cambodia. Oh, and so us dopes in the audience will remember, Khmer Rouge Communists and Vietnamese Communists are fighting over the country. Sarah asks how Nick is, and Elliott answers, “He’s Nick.” In other words, Nick did NOT change his approach after Ethiopia. So much for that apology, or whatever it was. Anyway, Elliott becomes a mouthpiece for the writer, listing off all the bad things going on in Cambodia. Finally he comes to the point: they’re trying to get some medicine and other supplies, and they need someone from the UN to give their blessing, since “the UN’s name still means something.” (Insert UN joke here.) Do I need to repeat it? Well, here it is, anyway: coming from Noah Emmerich, this doesn’t come across as patronizing or wheedling. It feels like a guy just asking a favor from a friend. WHY couldn’t this movie be about Elliott?!
Sarah agrees, of course. And she’s gonna fly down to Cambodia with the supplies. Just because. Oh, Lordy, here we go again. (I assume everyone here knows that Angelina Jolie met the young child she would later adopt while shooting the Cambodia segment of this movie. So something good DID come out of the film, believe it or not.)
So it’s down to beautiful and scenic Phnom Penh, Cambodia! Sarah’s near a loading dock, in a tight tank top, sweating just so. Laughable? Sure! But at least here Angelina’s easy on the eyes. Not on the ears, though. The local workers are demanding more money to bring the supplies in. Sarah refuses outright and tells her aide to demand that they bring the stuff. The aide’s response, “Or else what?” is not answered, although it’s the right question. Yep. Nick rubbed off on her, all right.
And speak of the devil.... There’s Nick, walking into a bar to meet with Mr. CIA. Wait a minute. Mr. CIA? Yep. What does he do, follow Nick around to see if Nick’ll do more dirty work for him? Yep. He’s like most of the characters in the movie, a plot convenience rather than a real character. (I smells the Plot-o-Matic 3000 in operation, I does.) Mr. CIA and Nick trade barbs, then Mr. CIA demands that Nick finish what he promised to do. The actor who plays Mr. CIA continues to literally hiss every word of dialogue he has, because we all know the CIA is ee-villl! He basically tells Nick, you chose to lie down with me, so don’t start gettin’ uppity. And you know what? He’s right.
Sarah gets ready to drive to meet Nick and Company. Her aide gets in the truck, revealing that his right leg is artificial. Sarah asks how that happened, and the guy gives a minute-long monologue about how he stepped on a land mine. Hey there, Clunky, good to see ya! You see, some land mines don’t go off the minute you step on them. There’s a click, and then when you step off, you have the “big bye-bye” as the driver says. Will you remember that? There’s a sign over the guy’s head telling us to remember this. Okay, there isn’t, but you get the idea.
Sarah meets up with Nick, who tells her, “You’re not wearing perfume.” So he respects her now. Uh-huh. They pack all the supplies onto a boat (and it’s never explained HOW they got all this stuff on so quickly) and head up river to a small village where Nick’s working. Sermon time again. Nick has to hide all the supplies from the Khmer Rouge. They’ll steal it otherwise, because the Khmer Rouge is, you know, really really bad. One would assume Sarah already knows this, but the filmmakers assumed us plebs in the audience didn’t. The Khmer Rouge let Nick stick around there “Because they’ve got no doctors.”
They switch over from boat to truck (again off-screen), and come up to the village, which is guarded by, I assume, Vietnamese troops. Nick greets the troops’ leader, Colonel Gao, and gives him the bribe that Mr. CIA gave him. But Gao starts questioning Nick on whether he brought a little somethin’ extra along with the medical supplies. Sarah starts to protest... until the troops pull out weapons and a dossier of maps and other info hidden in the crates. Gao is royally pissed, and he starts whippin’ the tar out of Nick. If Gao is Vietnamese, that can only mean one thing: Mr. CIA was using Nick to give aid to the Khmer Rouge. This makes perfect sense when you learn that Oliver Stone was originally slated to direct this thing. Ah, yes, our good friend Ollie. Conspiracy theory or no, this is so dumb it’s surreal.* Nick has made it clear that the Khmer Rouge is giving the doctors there a lot of grief, so helping them would directly undermine Nick’s efforts. Oh, Nick says he doesn’t know what was in those crates, but we saw him with Mr. CIA. Nick, you are such a blankety-blank moron!! Gao is ready to shoot Nick, when Nick receives another ass-whuppin’... from Sarah. It’s about damned time, girl! Gao watches approvingly. He then advances, ready to shoot Nick in the head. But Sarah says, “Don’t shoot him. When I’m done hauling this hypocritical bastard into court, he’ll wish he was dead.” (long pause) Ah ha ha! Gotcha! No, she doesn’t do that! No, Gao makes like he’s gonna shoot, then... spits in Nick’s face the way Sarah did when she was kicking him, has a good laugh, oh ho ho, then sends them on their merry way. Well, maybe he knew the Khmer Rouge would take Nick out when they saw he didn’t have their stuff. Or maybe, just maybe, the filmmakers are full of s$%&.
*[The more you delve into this thing, the worse it gets. Mr. CIA’s motivations are never explained, but they seem to turn in on themselves: He’s ee-vill because he helps groups like the Khmer Rouge, and he helps people like this because he’s ee-vill. Some advice for writers: give these conspiracy guys a REASON for doing all this crap! (This gave me endless headaches when watching The X-Files.) It doesn’t have to be a good reason, just something that Mr. CIA would accept. ANYTHING. The only thing we can work out here is that the guy pulls all this stuff because he enjoys it. Even if one buys that, it doesn’t say much for Nick; he has chosen to go to work for Mr. CIA, letting the ends justify the means.]
Sarah gets them to stop on the road then grills Nick. Nick repeats that he didn’t know about the dossier, but he knew about the guns. Sarah knows what he’s all about now: “As long as you get what you need today, f*#@ everyone else!” She’s finally realized what kind of person Nick is. Nick gives an unconvincing argument for what he’s doing, and.... Damn. She gives in. Sarah, I thought you were growing a spine, at long last.
They pull into down, and Elliott goes to greet them. Sarah glares at Elliott and tells him never to pull this sort of thing again. Elliott says, “I won’t,” and I believe him, only I thought Elliott was against getting in bed with Mr. CIA in the first place. Nah, he confirms that he knew about the guns. Again, these guys are helping a group that is actively fighting against them. Elliott’s sheen just got tarnished, a lot. He tells Nick that the Khmer Rouge is coming in, and they’re gonna be pissed to learn their weaponry isn’t there. (Gee, ya think?) He says they need to haul ass outta there right now. Nick goes on being Nick, refusing to pull out. Oh, we learn that Aussie Guy and Cornrows got married. How nice. Who were they, again?
In the next scene, the Khmer Rouge comes into Nick’s makeshift hospital, demanding their guns and files. They don’t believe Nick when he tells them the gear was taken away, and they demand that he take them to his stash of medicine. They then say he’s “a CIA agent for Vietnam, and one of you must die.” Yep, you know it’s gonna be Elliott. I’m setting the timer, giving him two minutes. (Um, so, the CIA was helping the Khmer Rouge AND the Vietnamese?! How does this work, exactly?) I never thought I’d say this, but Where’s Tom Loughlin when you need him? Seriously, it could only help the movie at this point if, say, Elliott did a Billy Jack and started kicking ass and taking names. Alas, ’twas not to be.
I’ll just describe what happens next; it should be clear that it’s exploitation, and you can figure out how offensive it is. One of the soldiers goes into the crowd of villagers and pulls an infant into hospital floor, putting a grenade in the kid’s lap. The kid’s mom screams and runs for the kid, but the soldiers shoot her. Nick is able to get the drop on the lead soldier, putting a knife to his throat (and some of the other team members are able to get in a good position; no, not believable at all). Everyone freezes, as the infant pulls the pin on the grenade. Elliott (yep, here we go) rushes forward and grabs the grenade.... in slow motion. A soldier shoots Elliott through the heart in slow motion. Elliott is able to throw the grenade away... in a random direction... before he falls to the ground dead... in slow... mo-tion! (And isn’t it just lucky that Elliott HAPPENED to throw the grenade where no one was standing, rather than right into the crowd?) This sequence lasts thirty seconds; even if shot at half speed, it means that the grenade was primed for a full fifteen seconds before going off. And now.... NOW.... the village goes into Billy Jack mode, swarming the soldiers and beating them to death. Would’ve been nice if they did this BEFORE Elliott got cacked, hey? Remember, Nick and Company were already gaining the upper hand. Oh, and there’s a zoom in on the infant crying next to Elliott’s dead body, just in case there’s still someone in the theater who HASN’T walked out in disgust. When watching with Diane and Tori, I continued to stare, in horrified fascination. We’ve gone past scraping the bottom of the barrel; we’re busting through now.
Well, now that they’ve taken out a small regiment of troops, Nick and Company take the Cambodians on a hike to, I assume, the area where all the medicine and whatnot are stored (don’t feel bad if you’re confused, so was I). In the distance, more Khmer Rouge are burning the village and will soon give chase. But the filmmakers cover this by showing some Vietnamese choppers whizzing by overhead. They’ll fight with the Khmer Rouge, and Our Heroes will escape to the camp.
Finally in camp, Nick rests in his room. Sarah comes in (oh boy, here we go) and gives him the “It’s-Not-Your-Fault” bit about Elliott. Nick says it is, since he created the situation (and for once, he’s absolutely right). Sarah spouts off some vague platitudes that wouldn’t work in real life. But hey, this is a movie, right? And with that, Nick and Sarah have an Obligatory Love Scene. W-h-a-t?! That’s right, the whole movie has been building up to THIS scene. Damn you, Martin Campbell! You could’ve at least thrown us guys a bone and shown Angelina’s breasteses. But N-O-O-O, this scene was meant to be tasteful. Here’s a hint, folks: when your political screed on world hunger and famine relief turns out to be nothing more than a backdrop for Our Zeroes making the Beast With Two Backs, tasteful don’t enter into it!
There was one tiny bit of relief here. Diane had had enough. She started mocking the movie left and right from this point on. And she’s a fan of Angelina Jolie. Thank God, I clearly wasn’t alone on this.
The movie compounds this stupid move by bringing Henry into it. Nick asks about how Sarah met him. The whole point about their little post-coital chat was to establish that Sarah and Henry’s marriage “really ended a long time ago” and they’re just staying together for Sonny Boy’s sake. Nice try, Caspian. But no one buys it. (Rotten Tomatoes gave the movie a 15% fresh rating, saying the critics’ average was 42 out of 100, and Metacritic had an average rating of 32 out of 100.)
After they get out of bed, Nick pretty much tells Sarah they have to end this affair right now. He gives valid reasons, but he’s basically saying that the problems of two people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Clive Owen can indeed act, but he’s no Bogart.
And so Sarah goes home, leaving Cambodia behind. Like Ethiopia, the events here — and Nick’s acts, which were pretty reprehensible — are dropped in their entirety. Nope, no mention of his gun-running darkens this movie again. We’re going on to the third act. Thankfully, the film moved out of the realm of nauseating and offensive and into the realm of plain ol’ bad. The Angry Critic has been satisfied, and we can start having fun again.
Sarah is now living in a country mansion, and it is London, 1995, according to the subtitle. Right off the bat, this act gives us a real jaw-dropper. Henry and Sonny Boy are decorating a birthday cake. The marital and financial troubles are behind them, sorta. That’s not the jaw-dropper. Look at Sonny Boy. It’s bad enough that the adults in this film go eleven years without aging a day. But Sonny Boy is played by the same kid in the 1989 and 1995 segments! I ran his scenes side by side to make sure. Yep. Same kid. In other words, he didn’t change a bit between age four and ten! You see?! You see?! Stupid movie! STUPID!!! STUPID!!! The family is celebrating Sarah’s 33rd birthday, and now they have a daughter, who, unlike Sonny Boy, seems to be about five years old. Waitaminute. Five years old? Uh oh.
Sarah is now a high-ranking member of UNHCR. A spokesman lists her accomplishments before she gets up on stage at a conference to make a speech. Funny thing, though. We’re told of what she’s done, in vague terms. But we never actually SEE her at work. Show, not tell, Mr. Tredwell-Owen. There’s a nice bit where we learn that she started one particular charity in Elliott’s name (the last time he’s mentioned). Charley arrives at the conference, fashionably late of course. As Sarah starts making her speech, a glowering man enters the room and takes a seat. Ah so, the next Doctor Nick! (They even show a brief flashback of Nick storming the party, just in case we dumb audience members forgot it.) She continues the speech in a hushed tone, barely keeping from breaking down. Sigh. If anyone in a high position like this got all emotional like this with any regularity, I’d hope they’d lose that high position right quick.
The next day, Sarah and Charley meet up in the same park bench where Sarah saw Elliott. Sarah reveals that Nick is running a camp in Chechnya now, and she thinks he’s in trouble. She asks Charley to use her contacts to get some info on where Nick is. In other words, Charley isn’t a character either; her sole purpose in this movie is to explain, sorta, how Sarah finds Nick. No wonder Teri Polo walked through her performance; I only wonder why she agreed to take the job in the first place. And the audience is told by Clunky E. that Chechnya is “a very dangerous place.” Really? Darn. I was so SURE that Sarah would find Nick catching some rays down in sunny Destin, Florida.
After a brief scene of Sarah playing the piano — yes, the opening scene — we see her reading her daughter a bedtime story, ending with “The prince and the princess lived happily ever after.” Her daughter asks her, “How does it REALLY end, Mummy?” Oh, not so subtle, Caspian! The audience is full of idjits, so you need to spell it out for them IN BIG CAPITAL LETTERS LIKE THIS! Crikey.
Charlotte calls, but Henry answers. She declines to leave a message, and Henry is instantly suspicious, understandably so given how unconvincing Teri Polo is. The next day, Sarah gets the fax from Charlotte. Then she looks in on her sleeping children, getting all weepy-eyed for the eleventy tenth time, as some more Hornerschmaltz plays on the soundtrack. James, save this stuff for intentionally melodramatic movies like Braveheart or Titanic, where it actually WORKS. She leaves a note on the counter and prepares to leave, but Henry catches her. She tries to defend herself, but Henry just gives her a cold, accusing stare. Henry, man, you should’ve gotten yourself a good divorce lawyer. And with that, Henry’s out of the movie, as Sarah goes on yet another trip to a scenic war-torn country. “So she’s wri-tin’ him a let-ter, she won’t give him an-y bet-ter, when she says see-ya-a-a-a, (Oooooooh, ooooh, ooooh) off she’s gon-na shuf-fle, shuf-fle off to Chech-ny-a-a-a-a!”
So, now Sarah’s in a truck in Chechnya, and she has a lovely black coat on with a matching fur hat, which looks like it’d be more at home on a fashion runway. When first watching this, I thought there was something wrong with the TV. I couldn’t ask Diane, because she had fallen asleep, lucky girl. But watching it now, it’s clear. This segment was shot in desaturated color, using shaky handheld cameras. You got it! Martin Campbell is now ripping off Saving Private Ryan! I swear, I swear.
Somehow, Charley has also made her way into this war zone, and she shows Sarah a tape of Nick going through his new makeshift hospital, doing what he does best: make relief workers look like complete cads. Yes, he laces his monologue with f-words, then apologizing for swearing. Don’t feel bad, Nicky-boy, I’ve been swearing at you for the last 100 minutes. The hospital is attacked, and the tape goes blank. And Sarah registers dull surprise. Charley says the tape is six days old, and that they think Chechen bandits took Nick hostage. A guy from the Red Cross says they think Nick “pissed someone off,” though they’re not sure who (probably someone who paid eight bucks to see this thing in a theater). He then adds, as if we didn’t remember, that Nick has been a bad boy; his activities have gone far beyond “famine relief.” Red Cross Guy tells Sarah to lay off and let the pros handle this, and Charley agrees. Of course, Sarah’s having none of that, no sir-ree! Having outlived her usefulness to the filmmakers, Charley leaves the movie.
So, what’s missing? It’s understandable if you’ve forgotten them; they weren’t all that memorable. Remember Cornrows? Aussie Guy? Other nameless people? Nick’s team is nowhere to be found. They weren’t convenient to the script, so Caspian told them adios. Actually, I have a good explanation for their absence. After the fiasco in Cambodia, they got together and confronted Nick. Nick refused to change his tactics; on the contrary, he increased his involvement with Mr. CIA. Well, the team finally woke up to the fact that their Fearless Leader was screwing them into the ground and kicked him to the curb. Now, they’re off in the Congo doing REAL relief work. And this movie is staying with the group’s bad seed. Sigh.
Sarah is lying on a bed in her dingy hotel room writing Nick a letter. Woman of action, she is. There’s a knock at her door, she goes to answer it.... Oh, no, not you again! Yes, it’s Mr. CIA! He just HAPPENED to be in the neighborhood and wants to help her out. Interesting thing: it’s never mentioned what Mr. CIA has Nick doing, or even if there’s a good REASON why he might be doing it; it’s just assumed that Mr. CIA has Nick running around doing something nefarious for its own sake, because (say it with me, you know you want to) we all know the CIA is EE-VILLLLL!!! Caspian Tredwell-Owen didn’t use the Plot-o-Matic 3000 when writing this script, after all. He used the beta version of the Plot-o-Matic 4000. (Still a few bugs in the system, yes?) Mr. CIA tells her some Chechen rebels have indeed taken Nick hostage and are holding him for ransom. Sarah asks why he’s telling her this. The real answer, of course, is because the Plot-o-Matic 4000 TOLD our filmmakers to do it this way. But Mr. CIA’s answer isn’t bad: while he wouldn’t mind keeping one of his agents around, he’s “not stupid enough to risk my own ass for some f*#@ed-up bigmouth.” But Sarah is. Mr. CIA says he’ll get Sarah up near the rebel camp, then she’ll be on her own after that. Of course, Sarah accepts. Ah yes, the calling card of all Designated Hero movies: the “villain” turns out to be much more intelligent and competent than anyone else in the flick. And Mr. CIA is now the one person in this wretched thing to describe Nick accurately and honestly.
Sarah traipses on up to the rebel camp. It’s made clear that the Russians could launch an air attack on the place at any moment. She meets with (I presume) the rebel leader, gives him the ransom money, and asks him to take her to Nick. They hike through a couple of scenic shots of waterfalls, snowy trees, etc., to a broken-down cabin, telling her he’ll give her “five minutes.” So, this is Sarah’s plan: give them the ransom money, meet up with Nick, and then... try to think of a way to get them both out of there. Such a master strategist she is! Hey, here’s an idea: give them HALF the money and a cell phone, and tell the leader you’ll call him and tell him where the rest of the ransom is once you and Nick are safely away! I know, not much of a plan (didn’t work too well for Stellan Skårsgaard in Ronin), but it’s better than what she came up with, and I thought of it in FIVE SECONDS!
She unties Nick and tries to get him up, but he doesn’t have the energy to move. She yells, “Move it, Reese! On your feet, soldier! ON YOUR—” Whoops, sorry. Wrong Sarah, much better movie. This is the poor man’s version of that scene. Uh oh, there’s explosions outside rocking the place. The Russians are shelling the camp. Convenient, isn’t it. The shots of the camp being attacked are cribbed, yet again, from Private Ryan, except for one little thing: Steven Spielberg can do this stuff in a way that you know what’s going on at all times (at least, he USED to be able to do this). With Campbell at the helm, it’s utterly incoherent, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing (and this movie is definitely a tale told by an idiot).
Then Sarah gets all quiet, whispering to Nick, and she drops her own bomb on the audience: Nick’s the father of her daughter. “You’re a dad. And she needs you.” Uh, Sarah, Nick hasn’t been taking care of your daughter for the last five years. Remember HENRY?! Huh?! Your husband?! Remember him?!
Okay, this can only mean one of two things. (1) Henry never knew that the little girl wasn’t his, which I don’t buy for a second. I’ve never been married, and no one would ever accuse me of being an expert in relationships, so anyone who knows different can correct me. But in a marriage that’s on life support (as Sarah and Henry’s is in 1989), chances are there’s not gonna be a lot of fun going on under the sheets. This is reinforced by Sarah’s cold treatment of Henry in ’89; you just KNOW Henry ain’t gettin’ none. And he’s not the teensiest bit suspicious when she has a bun in the oven shortly after returning from Cambodia? No, the more likely explanation is, (2) Henry knew about the affair — and that Sarah’s daughter wasn’t his — and he and Sarah have managed to put it behind them and rebuild their marriage (this is supported by some of Henry and Sarah’s dialogue earlier). And he has clearly raised the little girl as his own. You know something? Taken for all in all, Henry’s a helluva guy.
And Sarah clearly thinks Nick is a better deal. Man, I would LOVE to take Sarah on in a big-money game of Monopoly. “Yes, Mrs. Bauford, I’ll give you Baltic Avenue, and you just need to give me Boardwalk, Park Place, the four railroads, and let me use the get out of jail free card as a wild card!” Sarah’s decision will prove to be even more monumentally stupid in about seven minutes.
A shell hits near the cabin, causing it to collapse. Miraculously, Sarah and Nick are alive and none the worse for wear. Damn. Since the rebels have thoughtfully cut and run, Sarah and Nick are able to get out of there with little trouble. Damn. They start making their way to a Red Cross camp Sarah has informed the audience is about four miles away. Nick realizes they’re not out of the woods yet, literally or figuratively: the rebels will have no trouble finding their footprints if they want to get in some target practice on Our Zeroes.
Nick and Sarah come within sight of the Red Cross camp.... Oh, no! A truck’s coming! It’s the rebels! (Catch ’em, guys! Catch ’em!) Hey, question: don’t those rebels have much bigger things to worry about than these two twerps getting away? Never mind, because the rebels start on their target practice. (Pick me! Pick me! I wanna shoot!) Then they give chase.
Nick falls, since he was wounded earlier and is now dead tired. They go through the old go-without-me-I-can’t-make-it thing that may have had some originality around 1850. He gives her some BS that the rebels still want to hold him for ransom, and he convinces her to get running. He then turns around and starts hobbling along after her, while the rebels hang back and and continue their skeet shooting. The leader gets Nick in the shoulder.
Sarah sees Nick go down. She turns to try and run back, but....
Click.
She’s stepped on a land mine. D’you remember the land mines? She gives Nick a long look that’s supposed to be ambiguous, but is really just another dull stare. In his review of this thing, Roger Ebert noted that this ripped off Bonnie and Clyde. (That’s at least four quality movies this thing’s stealing from, and those are just the most obvious ones.) There’s one difference. In Bonnie and Clyde, Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway’s eyes said it all: “We’re not going to live through this, so let’s go out in a blaze of glory!” Here, Sarah’s expression, if anything, says, “Is this IT?!” If the filmmakers had any clue what clods the leads really are, this would be brilliant. As it stands, it’s just another eye-rolling moment in a movie that’s full of them.
Well, since the movie’s almost over, and since we need one more gut wrenching and emotional unintentionally funny moment, Sarah steps off the mine and goes ka-boom. Now, she might have been like the guy in Cambodia, losing a leg but surviving. But no, this is an atomic land mine; the explosion is HUGE. Big bye-bye for Sarah.
It would be a fitting irony if the rebels went ahead and took Nick out now. Nope. The rebels have disappeared, and here comes a Red Cross helicopter to pick Nick up. Damn.
So, here’s how it goes down. Sarah did what she was best at, going in where angels fear to tread. She got herself instantly relocated over three adjoining countries, thereby depriving her kids of their mother, whom they’ve known all their lives. But hey, she did get her daughter a biological father she never new existed! Monopoly, Sarah. You and me. Ten-thousand dollar purse. Whaddaya say?
Oh, it’s not over my brothers and sisters. Now we see Nick riding in the back of a taxi in London, reading Sarah’s letter to him. Angelina gives a voiceover. Sarah, I don’t think Danielle Steel’s gonna count you as serious competition. Sarah states she hopes she’ll be sitting next to Nick when he reads the letter, and he’ll tell her how foolish she is for writing like this. Oh, the irony. Whatever.
Oh no. Nononononono. The cab is dropping Nick off and Sarah and Henry’s house. My God, did Sarah turn this creep loose on her family?! Yep. He lets the cab driver head off, then walks to the bay window. Inside, Sarah’s daughter is playing a piano piece — the same one Sarah played earlier. Need I mention that the piece is MUCH too hard for most five-year-olds to play? We have a long shot of Nick standing outside, looking at, uh, his daughter. And fade out.
Sarah’s trade looks worse and worse. The final shot was supposed to be ambiguous, I think. The problem is, we know Nick all too well by now. If he were a decent man at all, he’d take a mental photograph of the girl, turn around, and walk away, leaving the Baufords in peace. But you know that’s not what he’s gonna do. No, he’ll go on being Nick, barging into the house, and throwing these people into a legal nightmare, not to mention guaranteeing many visits to the therapist for the kids. This family will never be the same again after Nick’s dropped in.
Gee, THANKS, Mom!
Nope, not quite done. (Jeez, movie, FINISH already!) One last thing. The following title fades up: “This film is dedicated to all relief workers and the millions of people who are victims of war and persecution. They continue to inspire us all with their courage and will to survive.” How nice. I agree that the relief workers that go into places like Ethiopia or Cambodia are true heroes, deserving of MUCH better treatment than they got here. So, I will make them this standing offer: if any relief worker wishes to beat the living hell out of anyone involved with this movie (with the exception of Noah Emmerich — maybe), you are cordially invited to bring them to my place. I’ll hold them down for you. |
Edited by - BradH812 on 10/28/2006 11:05:29 PM |
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BradH812
Holy Cardinal and Five Star General of the Righteous Knighthood of Jabootu
USA
1294 Posts |
Posted - 10/28/2006 : 9:58:59 PM
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Afterthoughts
I got to sounding like Nick during that review, didn’t I? Yeah, Angry-R came out. But admit it, sometimes it just feels good to vent.
A few thoughts on the star of this movie: certainly, everyone here knows that Angelina Jolie is now known for being a goodwill ambassador, going to third-world countries to stump for charity relief and spread news about places that need help. She also has, if memory serves, a three million-dollar mansion in England which she rarely visits. Some would take her to task for this (and Doctor Nick would lead the pack). I say, good for her. Jolie has shown facets of her character that deserve criticism, but her charity work isn’t one of them. I don’t care if you make 10,000 bucks a year or ten million: if you’re helping, you’re helping. As far as I know, Jolie has NOT used this position as an excuse to make uninformed political rants, unlike some people. Celine Dion, are you listening? No, she seems sincere. Angelina Jolie is a young woman who is trying to use her fame and wealth to do some good, and I won’t question her motives.
Her judgment is another matter. Jolie is the UN’s goodwill ambassador. If you haven’t already guessed, my respect and trust for the UN rank about nil. Three words, Angelina: Oil For Food. It’s good that she’s out there doing something; I wish she could find a more worthy group to align herself with. I also question Jolie’s judgment because, well, because she appeared in Beyond Borders.
It’s interesting that this flick came out about the same time the TV show ER started a two-year-long story arc in which Dr. Carter joined a Doctors Without Borders outfit in Kinshasa. ER got it right. While there was some political preaching, it thankfully didn’t go too far over the top. The story was limited to ONE location, not three, it took its time to let the viewers know the characters, and, oh yeah, it did NOT have viewers rolling their eyes and saying, “Oh, please!” ER also included a romance, but this romance WORKED. John and Kem were sympathetic characters the audience could understand. Their relationship was portrayed in a realistic and credible manner. And the whole thing wrapped up with a believable and satisfying conclusion. (Unfortunately, it also meant the departure of the series’ last original cast member, Noah Wyle. ER had finally, once and for all, jumped the shark.) Beyond Borders can’t claim to accomplish ANY of that. It’s an exploitation piece disguised as a REALLY BIG STATEMENT. And what does it do? Make the relief workers of the world look like a bunch of bitter, whining, crude glory-hounds. Good work, Messrs. Campbell and Tredwell-Owen. Jolly good show!
But let’s forget about the exploitation and concentrate on its message. Beyond Borders wants to tell its viewers, “You’re not doing enough if you’re just writing a check.” And it hits us over the head with that club again and again. The problem is, one senses that things would have been so much better if Sarah had just written a damned check!. Her offscreen achievements are very vague, leading one to wonder just what she DID at the UN. So let’s run down what she DOES accomplish onscreen:
Sarah writes a check, sending four days’ worth of supplies to the refugee camp in Ethiopia, her one true contribution. She goes down there, gets some verbal abuse, and supposedly saves ONE CHILD — who in all likelihood will be dead inside of a week. She should’ve just written a check.
Fast forward five years. Sarah puts on a sexy tank top, trucks on down to beautiful and scenic Cambodia, finds out her big crush is a gun runner for a band of murderous psychopaths and does absolutely nothing about it, watches the most decent member of the relief group get shot for his efforts, then does the horizontal tango with said gun-running big crush. She should’ve just written a check.
Skip ahead, skip ahead, skip ahead. Sarah dons the latest fashions and bops on over to lovely and scenic Chechnya, where she frees her gun-running foul-mouthed lover, gets herself blowed up real good, and sets Nick the Dick loose on her family. All together now: She should’ve just written a bloody CHECK!
One more thing. Per the IMDb, Beyond Borders cost about $35 million to make. It’s total domestic gross: $4.5 million. Even if you count foreign and video sales, it’s clear that Paramount Pictures took a well-deserved bath on this one.
And how much did they contribute to REAL relief efforts during this time?
Yep. They should’ve just written a check.
Immortal Dialogue
Sarah: Why do you never say my name?
Nick: Sorry?
Sarah: You never say my name. Why?
Nick: What's the first thing you do when you get a cold?
Sarah: What?
Nick: What's the first thing you do when you get a cold?
Sarah: Uh... chicken soup, aspirin, scotch...
Nick: You never just have the cold?
Sarah: I don't know what—
Nick: Taken nothing. Just have the cold?
Sarah: No.
(Actually, I suspect most people HAVE done this at some time or other.)
Nick: No, and that's us, right? We drown it. Kill it. Numb it, anything not to feel. You know, when I was a doctor in London, no one ever said 'medahani'. They don't thank you like they thank you here. Cos here they feel everything, straight from God. There's no drugs, no painkillers. It's the weirdest, purest thing, suffering. And when you've seen that kind of courage in a li... in a child... How could you ever want to do anything but just hold him in your arms? You remember that boy in London, JoJo?
Sarah: Yes of course
Nick: He was my first save, ten years old. So thin he could barely stand. But he still found the strength the bury the rest of his family. We have no idea what courage is... He used to write me little notes. He helped me in the clinic. He was good. He was sweet, he was good. He wanted to be like me, I liked that. I mean, it was silly and childish, but it made me feel good about myself. So I took him with me to London, you know, my talisman, my courageous Africa... How could I be so bloody stupid? How could I be so totally selfish? The point is... he was my friend. He had a name. So now I HAVE to remember him. If everybody I lose has a name...
(Poor widdle Nick.)
Somebody stop me!!!
DVD Special Feechurs (Warning: some political content ahead)
If you want solid evidence that Hollywood is hopelessly out of touch with the rest of the world, Beyond Borders goes a long way. If you want even MORE evidence, just check out the special features on the DVD.
We come across a brief conversation with Caspian Tredwell-Owen, who says that he did a lot of research into the work these relief groups do, and that he wanted to show real people, not saints. He talks a good talk, but he went way too far. Caspian, we don’t need our heroes to be saints. They can be flawed, and they can even be jerks sometimes. Here’s an idea: go watch Schindler’s List to see this sort of thing done RIGHT. That film had a flawed VERY flawed protagonist who evolved into a full fledged hero. Your little script gave us a “hero” who started out as an overbearing, bullying ass with an oversized ego and undersized brain; he ended up as the same old boor, even if he’d learned to cover up his mean streak a bit. The writer also tried to cram way too much into too short a time. If the movie had been about Ethiopia, OR Cambodia, OR Chechnya, then the story and the characters might have been allowed to breathe. Putting them all into one movie gave us the Cliff’s Notes version of famine relief. It does the real doctors and caregivers (not to mention the audience) a great disservice.
Then I listened to the director’s commentary. It amazes me how clueless some directors can be how badly they botched their movie, and here we have a perfect example. Martin Campbell goes overboard praising everyone on the production, right down to the assistant caterer (okay, that’s an exaggeration, but you know what I’m talking about). He never seems to notice how, say, the golden-hued photography in the Ethiopian segments or the “lush” feel of the Cambodian part destroy any chance for real grittiness. And in a movie like this, you damn well better have some grit. Anyway, Campbell goes on about how they consulted with real relief workers and strove for accuracy. This isn’t the accomplishment one would be proud of. Apparently, all of the stuff shown in the movie goes on for real, but it was depicted so ineptly that my BS detector was screaming most of the time. Mr. Campbell, why don’t you join Caspian in the screening room? Spielberg knew that the best way to depict real-life horrors was matter-of-factly. You don’t need to push this sort of thing in your viewers’ faces; just put it on screen and let the audience do the rest. Can’t do that? Then get out of the director’s chair.
So, does Campbell give any useful info during the commentary? Yes, but not useful in the way he intended. He boasted that Kofi Annan praised this movie. Yeah, THERE’s a voice of authority. I’d tell you to refer to my comments on the UN, but I trust you actually REMEMBER what you read four minutes ago, unlike the filmmakers. It gets better. Campbell reveals that, although he didn’t get credit, Oliver Stone did a good bit of the writing for this movie.
That explains a LOT. Paper-thin characters, sermonizing, taking a three minute speech to say what could be covered in one line, assuming the audience is a bunch of stupid bumpkins, subtle as Bobcat Goldthwait on three pots of coffee. All of these are Ollie’s trademarks. It doesn’t let Tredwell-Owen off the hook. He still did the lion’s share of the writing.
Some more interesting tidbits: Colonel Gao was played by Bert Kwouk. Remember him? Cato? The guy who was always sparring with Inspector Clouseau? Now THERE was some hard-hitting, gritty drama! Campbell jokes that he half-expected Kwouk to start jumping out from behind the crates and try choking Clive Owen from behind. Oh, if only! And then the director undermines one of the few moments where Sarah seemed to be able to think for herself: he reveals that she was kicking Nick around in an effort to save his life. Huh?! More undermining? Sure! Henry DIDN’T put it together that the little girl wasn’t his. Hold on a minute while I see who’s at the door— no, that was just my BS meter going DING DING DING DING DING!
Campbell also goes on at times about how they used test audiences in the final stages of post-production. I’m leery when I hear talk of test audiences. They can be very fickle, and sometimes completely clueless (the test audiences HATED Goodfellas, for example). But here, they kept the movie from being even worse. It’s little stuff that Campbell desribes, but it makes one thing clear: audiences who had never written a script or called a shot knew more about what worked and what didn’t than did the people who were paid to make this damn thing. Campbell also notes that the test audiences ended up “loving” it. Uh huh, yeah. This commentary was obviously done before the film was unleashed on the public, went boom, and died. I wonder what he’d say about it today.
I didn’t bother with the other features. You don’t REALLY want another five pages, do you?
Where are they now?
As of October 2006, Angelina Jolie is Angelina Jolie. No need to tell of her career or personal life since ’03, as it’s well known. I believe she was already getting into charity work before she starred in this movie, but if it did indeed inspire her, well, Beyond Borders managed to do something right in spite of itself.
Martin Campbell has directed The Legend of Zorro, which didn’t go anywhere. He also helmed Casino Royale which oughtta hit the theaters any minute now. I’m keeping my fingers crossed. Hopefully, he’s learned his lesson: leave the statement movies to people who know how to direct them.
Caspian Tredwell-Owen has only two writing credits. One was for this thing; the other was for the Michael Bay opus The Island.
Tori is living in Florida now. Diane’s still here; I had dinner with her last night.
BradH is now rehearsing for a play, so it may be a while before I sit down to write another long-winded review like this. And so to bed. G’night! |
Edited by - BradH812 on 10/28/2006 11:13:53 PM |
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Beyond Borders
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