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WSWS : Arts
Review : Film
Reviews
Three recent films
Autumn in New York, directed by Joan Chen, Space
Cowboys, directed by Clint Eastwood, Gladiator, directed
by Ridley Scott
By David Walsh
17 August 2000
Use
this version to print
I recall an interview with American actor Richard Gere televised
early in the 1980s, probably between his roles in American
Gigolo (1980) and An Officer and a Gentleman (1982),
in which he discussed his hope of working in the near future with
German directors Rainer Werner Fassbinder and Werner Herzog. He
spoke somewhat self-importantly about it, but at least the desire
existed in him to do something meaningful.
Two dozen or so mostly lousy films, one supermodel
ex-wife and 20 years of self-satisfaction and prosperity later,
Gere now graces Autumn in New York. It's not his fault
of course that Fassbinder's life came to a shattering end in 1982
or that Herzog more or less went off the rails. Or that a generally
reactionary climate came to prevail in the 1980s, which would
have consequences for cinema. Nor can Gere be blamed for the generally
miserable level of contemporary filmmaking and the lack of substantial
acting roles. He's not responsible for any of that, but are there
any signs of his having put up much of a struggle?
Gere, born in 1949, is in some ways typical of his generation.
He was involved at the University of Massachusetts with the radical
Students for a Democratic Society and anti-Vietnam War protest.
After dropping out, he pursued a stage and film acting career,
first coming to prominence in Looking for Mr. Goodbar (1977)
and Days of Heaven (1978). In the 1980s he identified himself
with opposition to US government policies in El Salvador, Nicaragua,
Honduras and Guatemala.
The collapse of the protest movement milieu, the general enrichment
of those who composed it and the drift of the latter away from
radical opposition to American society are intertwined and complex
processes. The working out of these processes takes quite individual
forms.
Gere, a philosophy major in university, became a practicing
Buddhist 20 years ago and now counts the Dalai Lama among his
friends. He has been identified with the cause of Tibetan independence
for a decade. In 1993 he took the opportunity of the Academy Awards
to denounce the Chinese government for its invasion and continued
occupation of Tibet. The policies of the Beijing Stalinists have
been heavy-handed and brutal and would repulse anyone with a conscience,
but political knowledge and perspective are also helpful. The
program of Tibetan independence and restoration of the feudalist
Dalai Lama has brought Gere shoulder-to-shoulder with the US State
Department, the CIA and extreme right-wing elements. [See:
The tawdry politics of Tibetan
Buddhism: The flight of the Karmapa Lama from Tibet]
In 1999, in the aftermath of the US-led NATO campaign against
Serbia, Gere visited camps housing ethnic Albanian refugees in
Macedonia. One gets the general, not so unusual picture: intellectual
superficiality, self-indulgence and disorientation.
In Autumn in New York, directed by Chinese-born actress
Joan Chen, Gere plays a philandering millionaire restaurateur
in Manhattan who falls for the much younger Winona Ryder, a womanthe
daughter of an old semi-flamedying of some heart ailment.
Gere's character finds it difficult at first to commit himself
to the relationship, but after first betraying and walking out
on the young woman, throws himself into the affair and does everything
in his power to save her life.
I don't object to melodrama, and the story of love in the shadow
of death is an entirely legitimate subject, but this is poorly
and unconvincingly done. I don't remember the silly Love Story
(1970) very well, with Ryan O'Neal and Ali MacGraw, but I have
a feeling it had a little more going for it than this effort.
Much of the film is composed of picture postcard shots of the
Manhattan skyline and golden-leaved trees in Central Park. Later,
there's snow, and death. The characters all have lots of money
and time on their hands. They don't seem to be comfortable with
each other, any more than we are with them. Nothing on screen
persuades me that the leading figures know or care much about
one another. I suppose in its own way this is a form of Realism,
since the wealthier sections of New York City's population at
present are about as impervious to genuine human feeling as they
come.
I was alarmed when I read that Winona Ryder was in this film.
I fear for her soul a little. Her more charming and truthful expressions
and gestures, if she's not careful, will turn into mere tricks,
forms of manipulation, quite external to her inner being. At that
moment, an actor leaves the land of the living. There are other
talented performers at work here: Anthony LaPaglia, Elaine Stritch
and a remarkable newcomer, Vera Farmiga. As for Gere, his performances
now have only slightly more spontaneity than those of the two
leading presidential candidates. The film has a handful of recognizably
human moments, but not more than that.
Over the course of directing 22 films Clint Eastwood has known
more artistic failure than success. He seems most adept at representing
a certain kind of male personality under pressure, in Play
Misty for Me and True Crime, for example. Certain of
his Westerns have also had their appeal. Unfortunately, there
appear to be more things he can't do than he can. It's not clear,
aside from some sense of the crisis that individuals of his age
and background find themselves in, that he has any strong ideas
or themes to present to the public, certainly fewer than the two
directors who must have influenced his early work, Sergio Leone
and Don Siegel. His is not a critical or an entirely conformist
voice, it's simply a voice.
Space Cowboys is a flat and largely unaffecting effort.
It tells the unlikely story of four Air Force pilots and crewmen,
deprived in the late 1950s of the possibility of going into space
by the establishment of NASA, sent 40 years later to repair a
Russian satellite that is threatening to drop from the sky. We
learn all we need to know about the film's principal concerns
in the first ten minutes or so.
Its attitude toward middle and old age is surprisingly mean-spirited.
Eastwood and the others, Tommy Lee Jones, Donald Sutherland and
James Garner, put up with a good deal of abuse to no particular
end. Space Cowboys purports to be a tribute to the continuing
powers of those over the age of 50, but it consistently plays
to the real or imagined prejudices of the much younger age group
that interests Hollywood market researchers and executives.
Jones's condition is at a less-developed stage than Gere's,
but he is in danger too of transforming his art into mere going
through the motions. Compare his performance here with the one
he gave in Coal Miner's Daughter in 1980.
Gladiator, directed by Ridley Scott, is enjoyable, as
long as it's not taken too seriously. Russell Crowe plays a Roman
general, Maximus, the favorite of a dying Emperor Marcus Aurelius.
The unfortunate Maximus is laid low by Marcus Aurelius' jealous
son and successor, Commodus, and reduced to the status of a slave.
He makes his way back to a largely computer-generated Rome as
a gladiator and manages to position himself to wreak revenge on
Commodus, who has had his wife and son murdered. Everything is
quite improbable, but professionally done and played to the hilt.
See Also:
The tawdry politics of Tibetan
Buddhism: The flight of the Karmapa Lama from Tibet
[22 March 2000]
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