The French movie "I've Loved You So
Long" seems to be gathering respectable reviews in spite of a plot twist
that would put Spielberg to shame if it weren't so lucrative, in this
business, to indulge in all manner of preposterous plot twists. But
why have critics like Ebert and Beradinelli fallen over themselves to praise
this hokum? Why does Berardinelli actually insist the movie is about
how society treats someone who has committed a serious crime when the movie
completely emasculates that point in the last scene?
This movie is about how the viewer can congratulate him or herself for being compassionate and understanding towards a convicted child murderer because we find out, in the end, that she was not really a child murderer. She was merely a mother who loved too much.
Check out the movie "Little Children" for a movie that more boldly and genuinely challenges the viewer in terms of his or her ability to accept the presence in a community of a convicted criminal-- who really is a convicted criminal.
And my nomination for the lowest of the low: Meryl Streep "singing" "Winner Takes it All" in Mama Mia. Performed in one take, according to the bedazzled talents behind the camera. And in interview after interview, the actors in the film admit that they never respected Abba back in the 70's but now that they have been paid, they can see that they really were musical giants-- and did you see Meryl nail it in one take? Suddenly, Bjorn Ulvaeus is the Swedish Bob Dylan.
This self-aggrandizing, cloying, critics-be-damned attitude is supposed to be lovable on some deeper level than I can ever imagine, like Sarah Palin's leadership qualities or the expressions on the faces of Secret Service agents. But what if it is just as it appears to be: a massive, slobbering wet kiss of desperation: no, I don't have any real talent, but because I am a celebrity, you may stand back astounded at my generosity of spirit, that I would be so silly on purpose. Because it's just fun.
No it's not. Real fun is the Beatles' "Help", "The Pink Panther", and Abbie Hoffman threatening to surround the Pentagon with meditating hippies and levitate it (the Generals announced that they would stop him). Abbie, not ABBA.
As Dr. Seuss once observed: this "fun" proclaimed by Meryl Streep is the wrong kind of fun. She has confused her own singing with the careful talent that Richard Lester applied to his films, and Peter Sellers to his, ... when it is actually the kind of fun you do in your bedroom with your girlfriends during a sleepover.
The first lesson is the hardest: it's not nearly as amusing for those watching as you think it is.
Copyright © 2008 Bill Van Dyk All rights reserved.