Thursday, January 05, 2012
Survival of the greediest
By Edward Copeland
If any Occupy gatherings want a movie to pass the sit-in time which also speaks to the group's issues, the protesters could make no better choice than the riveting Margin Call, a well-acted depiction of the callous way that a fictional Wall Street investment firm treats its employees, its clients and the U.S. economy — all for the sake of perpetuating executive lifestyles, everything else be damned.
Margin Call marks the feature writing-directing debut of J.C. Chandor and an impressive debut it turns out to be. It begins much like John Wells' wretched The Company Men, except that it's an investment firm laying off much of its work force and the movie's focus isn't trying to convince us to cry crocodile tears for the execs who no longer can afford country club fees.
One of the first to get his walking papers is Eric Dale (Stanley Tucci), a senior executive in risk management. His layoff shocks him but Dale seems more concerned about the data on his monitor when he receives the news. He tries to explain to the woman (Susan Blackwell) informing him of his fate about the importance of that in-progress project, but she stays on the severance script, letting him know what his exit package contains and how — for security reasons — his access to email, computer files, etc., has been severed. She sends him back to his office with a security guard to collect any "personal items" and escort him from the building.
As Dale grabs a few things, senior trader Will Emerson (Paul Bettany) sticks his head in to offer sympathies. Eric tries telling Emerson about his incomplete work, but Emerson tells him it isn't his problem anymore. As Dale takes his final walk to the elevator, box of belongings in his arms, one of his assistants, Pete Sullivan (Zachary Quinto), catches up to thank him for the chance to work with him. Eric again mentions his work — and he slips Sullivan a flash drive along with the warning, "Be careful." When Dale gets to the sidewalk, he attempts to make a call on his cell phone only to discover the firm shut that off as well, something that will bite the company in the ass.
Once the floor's layoffs have been completed, its top trading executive, Sam Rogers (Kevin Spacey), comes out of his office to give the survivors a pep talk, explaining that it's been a difficult day but it's one that they may all go through again throughout their careers. On the bright side, with so many people gone, the rest should celebrate because they've all moved up several notches in the firm's hierarchy. Pretty much the entire floor takes the advice literally and heads out for drinks after work, including Dale's other assistant, Seth Bregman (Penn Badgley), who encourages Sullivan to go but Pete has immersed himself in flash drive's data and stays to work on it.
When Pete finally figures out what Dale had discovered, he can't believe the numbers and calls Seth to come look at them, followed by Will Emerson. With the projections, the trading firm has become so overleveraged that if its assets (made up mostly of those infamous mortgage-backed securities) should decrease by 25%, the company will owe more than it is worth. Emerson drags Rogers in and soon the firm's most important players have arrived to work through the night for possible solutions to the impending explosion including the head of risk management, Sarah Robertson (Demi Moore), a particularly cutthroat senior exec, Jared Cohen (Simon Baker), and the company's CEO, John Tuld (Jeremy Irons).
As complicated as the subject matter is, Chandor's script makes it digestible and understandable. As a director, Chandor turns the material into a truly suspenseful thriller where no one's physical life may be at stake but it feels as something much larger is. Chandor's screenplay and direction prove great, but he also has been blessed with an embarrassment of riches in the casting department.
Jack Lemmon's influence on Spacey shows in his portrayal of Rogers, the veteran trader who serves as the firm's conscience. Irons turns in a fine performance as the CEO who feels his decisions are based on pragmatism not greed or self-preservation. Baker makes all his scenes come alive simply by the mysterious nature of his character. Quinto (who also served as one of the film's many producers) and Badgley work as a kind of yin and yang of up-and-comers in the business world. Though Tucci's role is limited, he makes the most of his appearances. Daily Show correspondent Aasif Mandvi even appears, playing it straight as a firm lawyer.
For me though, the film's standout ends up being Paul Bettany. He caught my attention first as Russell Crowe's roommate in A Beautiful Mind, but I've been waiting for him to break out ever since, but most of his roles I've missed or have failed to make an impression on me. As Emerson in Margin Call, Bettany creates a cool customer that you're never quite certain where his loyalties lie or whether he even has any. He's also wry and somewhat of a tour guide for the audience through the corporate maze.
Margin Call also boasts crisp editing by Pete Beaudreau and production design by John Paino with set decoration by Robert Covelman that makes the boardrooms and trading office look spot-on real, especially when seen through Frank G. DeMarco's wondrous cinematography. Office interiors don't get heralded enough when filmed this well.
Chandor has won and been nominated for several first feature and first screenplay awards and the Independent Spirit Awards has given this cast its Robert Altman Award for best ensemble, all very deserved accolades. I look forward to seeing where Chandor goes from here.
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Labels: 10s, Altman, Demi, Jeremy Irons, Lemmon, Russell Crowe, Spacey, Tucci
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Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Retro feel avenges previous bad Caps
By J.D.
The popular comic book superhero Captain America had his debut in March 1941 courtesy of Joe Simon and Jack Kirby who created him as a patriotic symbol in response to the actions of Nazi Germany leading up to the United States’ involvement in World War II. Like any enduring comic book icon, Cap has undergone all kinds of changes over the years but has had few cinematic incarnations. He first appeared on film in a 1944 serial and then in a 1990 film that was so ill-conceived that it was released direct to home video in North America. One problem with the character is that his costume did not translate well to a live-action film. It didn’t help that at the time of the 1990 version, Marvel Comics, which owned the character, had little interest in cinematic adaptations of its titles until X-Men (2000) proved to be a surprise hit.
Since then, they’ve had a spotty track record with their properties. The Blade and Iron Man series were very successful but both Daredevil (2003) and Ghost Rider (2007) were box office and critical failures respectively. Part of the problem is the talent attached to these films. Getting the right director and cast that understand the characters and the worlds they inhabit is crucial and explains why the first two X-Men films were so good. For Captain America: The First Avenger (2011), the powers that be wisely hired Joe Johnston to direct. Since it was decided to set the film during World War II, who better to recapture that old school action/adventure vibe then the man who helmed The Rocketeer (1991) and Hidalgo (2004)? For the pivotal role of Captain America, Chris Evans was cast. He already had experience with superhero films playing the Human Torch in the awful Fantastic Four films and, as a result, was understandably reluctant to take on another comic book adaptation. The question remained, how would such an earnest, idealistic character translate in our cynical times and would moviegoing audiences be able to relate to him? Judging by its opening weekend box office haul, quite well indeed.
Steve Rogers (Chris Evans) is a skinny weakling who just wants to do his part for his country during wartime but he’s wracked with too many health problems to join the Army. So, he volunteers for a risky top-secret experimental program known as Project Rebirth run by Col. Chester Phillips (Tommy Lee Jones at his crusty, ornery best) and Peggy Carter (charmingly played by Hayley Atwell). Rogers may not be physically strong but he’s brave, determined and willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good. Dr. Abraham Erskine (Stanley Tucci) and Howard Stark (Dominic Cooper) conduct the actual procedure that transforms Rogers into the perfect physical specimen, a Super Soldier complete with superior strength and agility.
Instead of putting him on the front lines where he wants to be, Rogers dons a corny costume (that pokes fun at previous cinematic incarnations), gets dubbed Captain America and is ordered to sell war bonds to the American public in a lame dog and pony show. While entertaining American troops in Italy, he hears that his best friend Bucky Barnes (Sebastian Stan) has been captured by Hydra, a research wing of the Nazis that is so ambitious that it split from the Germans for playing it too safe. With Peggy and Stark’s help, Rogers disobeys orders to rescue his friend and 400 prisoners of war. Meanwhile, Hydra leaders Dr. Arnim Zola (Toby Jones) and Johann Schmidt (Hugo Weaving) have discovered the Tesseract, a cosmic cube endowed with powerful magical energy that they harness so that it can be used to not only win the war but also take over the world. Schmidt was the first recipient of the Super Soldier formula and it transformed him into the Red Skull, a hideous-looking evil genius.
Hugo Weaving brings a suitably creepy menace to the role of the power hungry Red Skull aided in large part by the impressive and appropriately garish makeup job. Hayley Atwell is downright delightful as the brassy dame Peggy Carter who is more than capable of taking care of herself. The chemistry between her character and Rogers is nicely realized with snappy, slyly flirty dialogue reminiscent of a Howard Hawks film. The screenplay, written by Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely, does a nice job of developing their relationship over time, keeping their romance simmering just beneath the surface for most of the film until its tragic conclusion that carries a surprising emotional resonance because we’ve become invested in them. After all kinds of supporting roles over the years, Chris Evans finally gets to prove that he has the chops to carry a big budget blockbuster. He brings a no-nonsense charisma to the role and conveys Cap’s idealism without coming across as forced or phony.
Joe Johnston brings the same old school classic Hollywood vibe he brought to The Rocketeer complete with a refreshing lack of cynicism and irony as he delivers a straight-forward action/adventure tale. And like with that previous film, he includes all sorts of nice comic book touches, such as the introduction of the Howling Commandos, a ragtag group of soldiers that fought alongside Nick Fury in the comics and fight with Cap in the film. In particular, the actors who play Dum Dum Dugan (Neal McDonough) and Gabe Jones (Derek Luke) bear an uncanny resemblance to their comic book counterparts right down to how they look and act. Unlike Zack Snyder (Watchmen), who imposes too much of his personal style, Johnston understands that the film’s style should service the story — anything else is a distraction. He even employs Snyder’s trademark “speed-ramping” technique but in a way that fits seamlessly with the action sequences, which are exciting and expertly choreographed, devoid of schizophrenic editing. You always know who is fighting whom and where. Captain America is quite simply a flat-out entertaining film.
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Labels: 10s, Hawks, Tommy Lee Jones, Tucci
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Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Crying on the inside, laughing everywhere else
By Edward Copeland
As "L-O-V-E" by Nat King Cole croons smoothly over the soundtrack, the camera pans slowly over the faces of the usual assortment of New York subway commuters until it lands on one man who sticks out: He's in full clown outfit and bearing balloons, but his facial expression certainly doesn't radiate joy. That's because beneath the makeup is Grimm (Bill Murray), an employee of the department of city planning who is about to carry out his plan to escape the city he's come to loathe in Quick Change, a woefully underrated film which turns 20 today and marks the only time Murray sat in the director's chair, though he shared the job with Howard Franklin, who adapted the film from Jay Cronley's novel.
Grimm's escape plan, which also involves his girlfriend Phyllis (Geena Davis) and dimwitted lifelong friend Loomis (Randy Quaid), is to rob a bank to finance their exit from the city they've come to despise. Of course,
I think NYC is the greatest city in the world and would do anything to live there, yet that doesn't prevent me from loving this comedy which takes aspects of Sidney Lumet's Dog Day Afternoon and Martin Scorsese's After Hours, tosses them into a blender and hits puree. There also are nods to other great bank heist films, even some that had yet to be made such as Spike Lee's Inside Man. Grimm's opinion of the city is not reassured as he begins the robbery. The guard (Bob Elliott of the great comedy team Bob & Ray and father of Chris) believes he's serious when he flashes the gun and shows the dynamite strapped to his chest, prompting the guard to ask Grimm what kind of clown he is. "A crying on the inside kind, I guess," Grimm replies, but the customers and other employees need more convincing other than shouts of "This is a robbery" so Grimm finally has to fire a shot in the air.
Soon, once Grimm has secured all the hostages in the bank vault he makes phone contact with his newly minted nemesis, Rotzinger (Jason Robards), the heralded NY police chief who is on the edge of retirement. One of the thing that raises Quick Change above most bank heist films is that both the criminal and the cop are sympathetic characters and the viewer's loyalties are torn because you really don't want to see either foiled or embarrassed. Rotzinger is not a buffoon: He's sharp and a worthy adversary. While Murray's sparring with Robards is one of smart, sardonic politeness, Robards parries back well with the hard-bitten intelligence of a man who has seen it all and is doing his best to be a step ahead of Murray at every step of his plot. The two actors raise the level of Quick Change above that of a mere comedy.
When the criminal trio escape the confines of the bank (using new disguises and acting as if they are the first hostages released), the movie doesn't just retain its comic edge, it ups the suspense quotient and develops a bit of a surreal quality, thanks to the many fine actors in small character parts to just odd moments as when Grimm,
Phyllis and Loomis, lost and seeking directions to the airports, stumble upon a strange bicycle jousting ritual. That is just one of the weird and inspired touches, not one of the obstacles that appear in their path which include construction that remove road signs and road workers who have no idea which way the directions were supposed to point; several instances of having guns pulled on them, some by crooks, some by new apartment dwellers; anal retentive bus drivers; cab drivers speaking unidentifiable languages; accidental run-ins with the mob; and just general chaos, none of which is helped by Loomis (Quaid), who may be Grimm's best friends but leaves a lot to be desired in the brains department. As Rotzinger confides to his lieutenant, when he's frustrated that his stellar career could end on such a sour note if these bank robbers get away with it, "Our only hope is that they are mired down in the same shit that you and I have to wade in every day."
With co-directors, especially when both Murray and Franklin in this case are first-timers, it's difficult to know who gets the credit to for a film's magic (it's not as easy to guess as when Robert Wise and choreographer Jerome Robbins shared directing duties on West Side Story), but Quick Change has it, kinetic energy that begins as soon as Grimm the clown steps off the subway, onto the Manhattan street and into the bank and that energy doesn't let up until the film ends 90 minutes later. One of the movie's aspects that keeps it speeding along so well is its wonderfully infectious score by Randy Edelman. One other thing that Quick Change has that's reminiscent of After Hours is a supporting cast of top-notch actors in even the smallest of roles. Included in the roll call: the aforementioned
Bob Elliott, Victor Argo, Phil Hartman, Jamey Sheridan, Kurtwood Smith, Stanley Tucci and my two personal favorites here, Philip Bosco as the bus driver with the obsession with exact change and all other regulations and Tony Shalhoub as the cab driver who seemingly can only say one thing which, unfortunately, no one can translate since they can't even identify his language. Murray is as great as always and Davis gets quite a few good moments, especially as her own frustrations build, though at times Quaid overplays Loomis' stupidity. That aside, ever since I first saw Quick Change 20 years ago, it's held a warm place in my heart and re-watching it for the first time in many years did nothing to diminish that feeling. Franklin went on to direct the so-so Joe Pesci vehicle The Public Eye in 1992 and Murray again in 1996's Larger Than Life, which I've never seen, but Bill Murray has never stepped behind the camera again and since Quick Change turned out so well, I really wonder why.Tweet
Labels: 90s, Geena Davis, J. Robbins, Lumet, Movie Tributes, Murray, Pesci, R. Quaid, Robards, Scorsese, Spike Lee, Tucci, Wise, Zemeckis
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Monday, April 26, 2010
Mr. Monk and the Hilarious Hooey
By M.A. Peel
I saw the revival of Ken Ludwig’s Lend Me a Tenor this weekend with Mater. The New York Times didn’t like it either in 1989 (Frank Rich) nor today (Charles Isherwood). I’m not usually a fan of farce (high or low) or slapstick, or endless double entendres or playing broad, but this show is a delight.
I got excellent orchestra seats nine rows from the stage thanks to a 50% discount code that appeared on the Monk Facebook page just as after the series ended. Thanks very much, Mr. Monk. It’s a thrill to sit close to a Broadway stage because you really feel the live energy. If you sit in the back, it’s like watching TV.
Isherwood and Rich quibble about the plot of Tenor. Kind of makes them look silly. They are SO missing the point. Let me explain it to them and you with a perfect, appropriated description from Gary Giddins (via James Wolcott): it’s “absolute hooey, but it is a hooey of master craftspeople, working together like apprentice in a Renaissance studio, each one a specialist in light or fabric or hands or eyes, held in balance by their master’s supervision. In this instance, the master was director Stanley Tucci.” (OK, Giddins was actually talking about Joan Crawford’s film Sadie McKee directed by Clarence Brown.)
Sparkling hooey isn’t about plot. It’s about ridiculous set-ups that play out in inane ways, with just a soupcon of wit. It’s actually the ensemble of pros that make for the laughter. For me, Tony Shalhoub is the master of the subtle look within the over-the-top lunacy going on around him.
Shalhoub’s impresario is a man used to giving orders and getting what he wants. It’s the control of his performance that I loved. He is a very elegant man, and you can feel the intelligence below the reaction shots. I find that very rich and appealing.
Anthony LaPaglia had the harder role, Il Stupendo. He looked less at ease in his roll than Shalhoub, although his confusion in the second act was very, very funny.
The discovery for me was the young Justin Bartha who plays Max, the nerd factotum who blossoms before our eyes. He’s in The Hangover, which I now must see, and the National Treasure series with Nicolas Cage where he plays Riley Poole. Don’t think too many of his under 30 film friends have the chops for the stage that he has.
And so I found myself laughing and laughing at stupid lines and silly moments in my own willing suspension of disbelief.
It was a beautiful day in Gotham, and this hilarious hooey shared with Mater felt like such a gift. I don’t laugh enough (with a notable exception on my recent trip to China): I’m an Ox, and so I got a of cosmic dose seriousness (with a little artistry thrown in from the Libra side). Performing art of any kind that makes people laugh is extremely important to the human condition. It literally helps to lighten our load, to counterbalance the veil of tears that is so much of our human equation.
Preston Sturges knew this. That scene at the end of Sullivan’s Travels when the convicts and churchgoers start laughing while watching the 1934 Walt Disney cartoon Playful Pluto with Mickey Mouse and Pluto is one of the great moments in cinema.
The dedication at the film’s beginning:
"To the memory of those who made us laugh: the motley mountebanks, the clowns, the buffoons, in all times and in all nations, whose efforts have lightened our burden a little, this picture is affectionately dedicated."
The film’s last line, spoken by John L. Sullivan
"There's a lot to be said for making people laugh! Did you know that's all some people have? It isn't much but it's better than nothing in this cockeyed caravan! Boy!"
Labels: Crawford, Disney, Nicolas Cage, P. Sturges, Television, Theater, Tucci
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Monday, January 25, 2010
A life cut short
By Edward Copeland
I imagine, though we are several years removed from the Lord of the Rings movies, there remain enough obsessed Hobbitologists out there who may likely throw a hissy fit when I claim that Peter Jackson creates more stunning and remarkable imagery in his adaptation of The Lovely Bones than he did in 760 hours of the Rings trilogy.
Based on Alice Sebold's best seller, which I admittedly have not read, could easily turn treacly or depressing in its tale of a murdered 14-year-old girl (a terrific performance by Saoirse Ronan) witnessing how the lives of her family, friends and even killer progress as she wanders in a nether region she must navigate before she moves on to heaven.
Set in 1973, the period details are quite good, and not in that CGI-overkill way they were in Jackson's bloated, misguided remake of King Kong. It even includes Michael Imperioli playing a police detective with a hairstyle that makes me believe he had to have filmed this right around the time he was making the short-lived TV series Life on Mars.
The opening section of The Lovely Bones plays as an average slice-of-life about the Salmon family and it may be some of the best scenes connecting with day-to-day people that Jackson has filmed since way back in Heavenly Creatures. Oldest daughter Susie (Ronan) proves to be the family's life force, even though there is still mom and dad (Rachel Weisz, Mark Wahlberg) and a younger sister and brother (Rose McIver, Christian Thomas Ashdale). There also is the great Susan Sarandon as the hard-drinking, chain-smoking grandmother who believes in living like a free spirit in a neverending quest to deny her real age.
Ronan proves that her Oscar-nominated work as the young Briony in Atonement was no fluke. Most of the weight of The Lovely Bones falls upon her young shoulders and she carries it with aplomb, first as a smart teen with bursting creativity and a strong crush on a boy at school and then later as an apparition, wanting to help her family heal and to see her killer punished.
The man who kills Susie is played with the appropriate amount of banality and creepiness by Stanley Tucci, though I have to admit that his eventual demise has to be one of the most ludicrous since Kubrick let Nicholson's Jack Torrance freeze to death in the maze in The Shining. Having not read Sebold's novel, I have no idea if this is a departure from the book.
Still, it's a minor criticism for an otherwise impressive film. Jackson produces impressive sequences of all shapes and sizes, from a simple sequence showing the loss of passion in a marriage over time to the fantastical imagery of giant ships in bottles crashing against the shores in Susie's limbo as her father is breaking down at home.
Having not read the novel, I didn't know quite what to expect from The Lovely Bones, fearing it might be maudlin or depressing, but instead I found it to be a worthwhile experience that held my interest from beginning to end.
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Labels: 00s, Kubrick, Nicholson, Peter Jackson, Susan Sarandon, Tucci, Wahlberg
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Monday, January 14, 2008
Lasse comes home
By Edward Copeland
When The Hoax opened in early 2007, most of the praise it received was for Richard Gere. While Gere does give one of his better performances, the surprise to me when I caught up with it on DVD is that Lasse Hallstrom directed it. In a way, the movie is a bigger comeback for Hallstrom than Gere, now that the director, though still working for Miramax, has been freed from the Weinsteins' serfdom that produced lame and worse films such as The Shipping News, Chocolat and The Cider House Rules.
While The Hoax isn't a great film, it's more indicative of the career that made Hallstrom one to watch when he was making movies such as My Life as a Dog, What's Eating Gilbert Grape and, my personal favorite, Once Around.
I wonder if Hallstrom had a great moment when he realized that he didn't have Harvey and Bob controlling his chains that looked like that moment when the Wicked Witch's henchmen realized Margaret Hamilton was now a pool of water. Back to the movie at hand.
The Hoax does a fairly good job telling the story of the writer Clifford Irving, who almost fooled the world that he had an exclusive autobiography of Howard Hughes, done with the loony tycoon's cooperation, back in the early 1970s. Gere plays Irving well, especially in the film's later passages, where you're never quite sure as a viewer what is real and what isn't.
Gere though is just one small part of a solid cast which includes Marcia Gay Harden as Irving's wife, Hope Davis as his editor and Stanley Tucci as a publishing exec.
The best part though goes to Alfred Molina as Dick Suskind, Irving's friend and eventual co-conspirator who, in some ways, reminded me of Molina's Tony-nominated role in Yasmina Reza's play Art. Molina manages to wring laughs and pathos from his role as a man unwittingly over his head but who's still able to enjoy it at times.
The Hoax does hit some speedbumps over the course of its running time, but for the most part it is enjoyable. Let's hope it's just the first stage in Lasse Hallstrom's emancipation.
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When The Hoax opened in early 2007, most of the praise it received was for Richard Gere. While Gere does give one of his better performances, the surprise to me when I caught up with it on DVD is that Lasse Hallstrom directed it. In a way, the movie is a bigger comeback for Hallstrom than Gere, now that the director, though still working for Miramax, has been freed from the Weinsteins' serfdom that produced lame and worse films such as The Shipping News, Chocolat and The Cider House Rules.
While The Hoax isn't a great film, it's more indicative of the career that made Hallstrom one to watch when he was making movies such as My Life as a Dog, What's Eating Gilbert Grape and, my personal favorite, Once Around.
I wonder if Hallstrom had a great moment when he realized that he didn't have Harvey and Bob controlling his chains that looked like that moment when the Wicked Witch's henchmen realized Margaret Hamilton was now a pool of water. Back to the movie at hand.
The Hoax does a fairly good job telling the story of the writer Clifford Irving, who almost fooled the world that he had an exclusive autobiography of Howard Hughes, done with the loony tycoon's cooperation, back in the early 1970s. Gere plays Irving well, especially in the film's later passages, where you're never quite sure as a viewer what is real and what isn't.
Gere though is just one small part of a solid cast which includes Marcia Gay Harden as Irving's wife, Hope Davis as his editor and Stanley Tucci as a publishing exec.
The best part though goes to Alfred Molina as Dick Suskind, Irving's friend and eventual co-conspirator who, in some ways, reminded me of Molina's Tony-nominated role in Yasmina Reza's play Art. Molina manages to wring laughs and pathos from his role as a man unwittingly over his head but who's still able to enjoy it at times.
The Hoax does hit some speedbumps over the course of its running time, but for the most part it is enjoyable. Let's hope it's just the first stage in Lasse Hallstrom's emancipation.
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Labels: 00s, H. Weinstein, Howard Hughes, Theater, Tucci
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Saturday, December 23, 2006
Prada, Prada, Prada
By Edward Copeland
It's been said that clothes make the man, but this year it certainly seems to be the case with many movies that performances make the film and acting most definitely gives the surge to an otherwise so-so comedy in The Devil Wears Prada, particularly a trio of turns by Meryl Streep, Emily Blunt and Stanley Tucci, that make the whole enterprise worth watching. Unfortunately, the lead role in the movie belongs to Anne Hathaway and though she can't really be blamed, her part is so colorless and her motivations so mystifying, that it's no wonder the characters who surround her are able to practically blow her off the screen.
Hathaway plays Andrea Sachs, an aspiring journalist living in New York with her aspiring chef boyfriend (Adrian Grenier, in another role whose every scene makes the viewer start tapping their feet in impatience for the interesting characters to come back). For some reason, Andy (as her friends call her) decides that a good path to writing success would be to apply for a lackey position with a viper named Miranda Priestly (Streep), who runs one of the world's top fashion magazines. Why should Andy choose this career path? Is it desperation? Has she been out of work for a long time and needs any paying gig? Beats me. Andy has no interest in being a clotheshorse or pencil-thin — until suddenly she does.
Her sudden turns in the movie seemed motivated more by the clock on the wall than anything written into the character herself and, unfortunately, Hathaway offers little by way of fleshing Andy out. Then again, what is Andy but a vehicle for meeting the real stars of the film, particularly Streep in what may be the comic highlight of her career as Miranda. She's cold, calculating and just when you think it's a one-note turn, she'll show you another layer to Miranda — but not for long.
Tucci also gets some good screen time as the magazine's long-suffering art director Nigel, who does the Extreme Makeover on Andy. The other fine performance comes from Emily Blunt as Miranda's No. 1 assistant, who tries to be as ruthless and heartless as her boss, but just can't quite cut it, even as Andy is unwittingly pulling an Eve Harrington on her.
If not for that troika of thespians, there wouldn't be much to recommend about The Devil Wears Prada, which goes on far too long for as light a vehicle as it is, but it's worth it if only to see Streep, Tucci and Blunt shine. That is all.
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Labels: 00s, Anne Hathaway, Streep, Tucci
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