Wild Open Waters

Saturday was a long day that began with a discussion about The Guilt Trip on the radio that turned into a delirious vaudeville act of Barbra Streisand jokes, and then developed into a day out at the tennis. I cheered on players I didn't know against other players I didn't know (they turned out to be good matches though, and the games involving more famous players like the Williams sisters and Tsonga were straight set duds), and briefly spotting Novak Djokavic. Naturally I was surrounded by onlookers who were, like me, only out for a perve (er, can you blame us?). By the time I got home late in the evening I needed some movie viewing that wasn't, shall we say, dramatically challenging. After digging through the stacks of films I have, I chose The River Wild. Because, you know, why not?

Directed by Curtis Hanson - "from the director of The Hand That Rocks the Cradle" as the poster of elegantly states - this 1994 actioner is one one of those rare beasts that sees an actress of Meryl Streep's age and stature (she was a 45-year-old, duel Oscar winner at the time) taking charge of a genre film. In that regard, The River Wild had a lot of interest behind it for me, not to mention that this era in Meryl Streep's career is a particularly curious one to navigate with titles like She-Devil, Death Becomes Her, and Postcards from the Edge, which were, at the time, seemingly anomalous for her as they branched into thoroughly unprestigious territory.

However, as the end credits rolled, I couldn't help but wish she'd do this more often. Streep obviously verges more on the mainstream side of the fence than some may think, but she so often takes roles in films that are only fleetingly as good and interesting as her performances in them. Making Mamma Mia! may have defied expectations once, but not anymore, and it'd be great if she could take on an original property that felt truly unique and necessary. I'd love to see her put that enviable skill to another film like The River Wild, or, as I've long wished - and said so on multiple occasions - a scary film in the tradition of The Innocents and The Others. Hell, if they have to remake Gaslight like they keep threatening, I'd dive at the chance to see Streep's take on the material. It would certainly pique my interest, because as much as I look forward to the big screen adaptation of August: Osage County, her casting feels particularly musky.

David Straithairn, Josh C Reilley, Meryl Streep, Kevin Bacon, and the kid from Jurassic Park!

Hell, if they just went and rereleased The River Wild, I am sure its reception would be a hell of a lot more positive than it was in 1994. It's score on Rotten Tomatoes - always an iffy prospect for movies made before, say, 2000 - indicates a 50/50 split between those who didn't like it and those who enjoyed it as little more than disposable genre fluff. It's very easy to hypothesise that if this white water rafting thrill-seaker action flick (yes, I'm guessing that was once used as a way to sell The River Wild!) being made today with, for instance, Jessica Chastain (they'd naturally cast younger, but in a pinch maybe they'd choose Sandra Bullock?) and Jeremy Renner in the Kevin Bacon villain role and being greeted with rapturous response. Given the dire state of action filmmaking, The River Wild's more old school sensibility - lack of plastic CGI, actual identifiably flawed human characters, established adult actors over "next big thing" type gambles - would surely prove a calming respite from a world full of John Carter, The Hobbit, and The Avengers. I mean, the amount of times I've read "good enough" (or a variation of it) in relation to an action film outside the realm of superheroes and sci-fi is alarming.

It's perhaps possible to make the argument that I am projecting modern day action film disappointment on to The River Wild and claiming it to be greater than it actually it. I certainly wouldn't shoot you down if you said that, but I do think the film is a remarkably effective one for many of the reasons I've already stated. Streep's aura of authority looms over the film, propelling its dramatic moments to as high a peak as its adventurous, oft-thrilling action setpieces. I admired the way Jerry Goldsmith's score and Robert Elswit's cinematography go together so handsomely. And I though Hanson's handling of the action scenes - as potentially messy and discombobulating as ones involving white water rafting could get - were all superb. "Meryl Streep kicks ass" isn't a saying that can be uttered all that often, but in doing so here she helped make The River Wild a cut above the rest. B+

MIFF 2012 Review: Jayne Mansfield's Car

Jayne Mansfield's Car

Dir. Billy Bob Thornton

Country: USA / Russia

Aus Rating: N/A

Running Town: 122mins

War is hell, duh. Sadly, Billy Bob Thornton's first time behind the camera in some 11 years (Daddy and Them, unreleased on these shores as far as I am aware) isn't able to mustre many more ideas for Jayne Mansfield's Car, a 1969-set southern drama that looks at the effects of three wars on three different generations of one family. Surely attempting to be "sprawling", the impressively cast ensemble try hard to find tender nuances amongst Thornton and Tom Epperson's screenplay, but an unfocused structure that leaves many characters with nothing to do for long stretches (and sometimes, in Frances O'Connor's case, disappearing from the narrative entirely) makes for an ultimately disjointed affair. The title is a doozy, a reference to the piece of pop culture memorabilia that found itself in a touring macabre sideshow of celebrity worship, but is perhaps too evocative and colourful a name for a film that is so concerned with the more tight-knit confines of family.

The developments that bring the Bedford family - John Hurt, Ray Stevenson, and O'Connor - from their home in England all the way to Alabama certainly pique initial interest. As Hurt and the ex-husband of his now deceased wife, played with typical externalised gruff by Robert Duvall, duke out their own decades-old argument, his children and grandchildren all have their own heavy stuff to deal with. Thornton's Skip is deeply wounded (both mentally and physically) from his time in WWII, the same war that has turned Kevin Bacon's Carroll into a peace-loving hippy. The third brother, Robert Patrick's Jimbo, didn't go to any war and yet carries scars all of his own. Bacon has perhaps the most interesting of the film's many characters, having to deal with the shame he puts upon his decorated WWI hero father's image as well as a son who, quite tellingly, thinks enlisting for the Vietnam War would be a "rock and roll" thing to do. What they would all think of soldiers lip syncing to Carly Rae Jespen's "Call Me Maybe" on YouTube is never broached.

Thornton imbues his film with the same rustic, southern gothic sensibility that he gave his debut, Sling Blade, in 1995. Perhaps Jayne Mansfield's Car was his attempt to return to safer territory after the much-noted debacle of All the Pretty Horses in 2000. Sadly, this more expansive tale never reaches any of the lofty heights it is clearly aiming for. It looks lovely, and and an electric twang-heavy score plus references to era-defining moments in time mean there's usually something to be paying attention to, but for a film that appears to be trying to say so much it never really gets above that initial statement of "war is hell".

The fingerprints of a scissor-happy editor are there on screen as well as off. O'Connor's "The Charge of the Light Brigade" reciting step-sister seemingly vanishes for a couple of days with nary a mention of her name to remind audiences of her whereabouts. She's the highlight of the film - "It's like Gone with the Wind!" - and her vanishing act is truly a mystery. Meanwhile, the film's Wikipedia page (which humorously implies Duvall, Bacon and Thornton play the three central brothers) cites Tippi Hedren as the wife who fled Alabama for the UK, and yet she never once appears on screen. I can't imagine the bulk of the tiresome "old man takes LSD, LOL!" segment was more important, but there you go. Even the collage-style poster appears to feature images that didn't make the final product.

War is hell, duh. That's still all I can figure Thornton's film amounts to. Perhaps if he'd focused on one of the story lines over this more mosaic structure he could have truly buried deeper. As it ends - quite bizarrely might I add - it feels like Thornton hasn't used the themes and the setting in any particularly unique way, with little idea of how to maximise the potential of his big moments. It's deep-fried Americana, but all a bit tasteless. C+