A Love Song for Bobby Long Lions Gate Films



Starring John Travolta, Scarlett Johansson, and Gabriel Macht

Directed by Shainee Gabel

Rated: R

Reviewed by Gary Goldstein



It’s always exciting to see a “bona fide” movie star really flex his acting muscles - and succeed.  And that’s just what John Travolta does to great effect in the stirring and evocative drama, A Love Song For Bobby Long.  In fact, it’s safe to say Travolta’s vivid, unglamorous, and often heartbreaking performance as the dissipated intellectual Bobby Long is right up there with his career-making Tony Manero (Saturday Night Fever) and career-reviving Vincent Vega (Pulp Fiction).    

Though in the last decade Travolta’s worked constantly, doing mostly solid, serviceable lead work in big studio pictures, it hasn’t always felt liked he’s taken a lot of risks.  Not that he wasn’t memorable in some of the better films (A Civil Action, Primary Colors), but let’s face it, how much can you stretch in stuff like Lucky Numbers, Swordfish, and Domestic Disturbance (not to mention Battlefield Earth, which was a stretch alright - just in the wrong direction)?

Kudos not only to Travolta but to his fine Bobby Long co-stars Scarlett Johansson and Gabriel Macht, as well as to writer-director Shainee Gabel.  They all really elevate what could’ve easily felt like been-there-seen-that material into something far more absorbing and rewarding.

Loosely based on an unpublished novel by Ronald Everett Capps, the movie follows a headstrong teenager named Purslane (“Pursy”) Will (Johansson) as she leaves her Florida trailer park for New Orleans to claim an inheritance after the death of her estranged mother, Lorraine.  Pursy, who was raised by her maternal grandmother, has no use for the negligent Lorraine - dead or alive - and bristles whenever the “N’awlins” locals wax sentimental about the hard-living singer-songwriter (in truth, we’re asked to accept Lorraine’s near-mythic allure without much real justification).

Though Pursy’s there to move into her mother’s house on the outskirts of town, she’s surprised to find not only has it become a saggy nightmare of peeling paint and alarming grime, but it’s already home to two old friends of Lorraine’s.  Holed up there are a couple of haunted, alcoholic men of letters - ex-college Lit professor Bobby Long (Travolta) and his former protégé and teaching assistant, Lawson Pines (Macht) - who Pursy quickly learns have no intention of leaving their seedy haven. 

The men share an oddly content, if dysfunctional existence, drinking their way through the day, either at home or at the local dive bar run by Lawson’s sometimes girlfriend, Georgianna (Deborah Kara Unger).  When they’re not enjoying their “breakfast of champions” (beer and tomato juice) or swilling vodka with anything that’ll mix (we’re talking pickle juice here), the competitive pair sit around quoting T.S. Eliot, Dylan Thomas, and Robert Frost or hang out with a bunch of other fringy boozers, smoking, singing, and playing guitar.

Turns out, Lorraine left one-third of her house to her daughter, and two-thirds to Bobby and Lawson, so if Pursy wants to live there, she’ll have to do so with them.  The girl reluctantly moves in and tries to put some order in her new roommates’ lives.  Her effort is especially poignant, not to mention entertaining, since Pursy’s own high school-dropout life is no sea of stability.

Eventually the irascible, if undeniably charming Bobby lightens up with Pursy and he and the soulful Lawson slowly let her into their rudderless lives, and an unexpected family of sorts is born.  The question is, of course, how long will it last and what secrets will be revealed that will test their tentative bonds?

Though it has a third act predictability, by then you’re so invested in these compelling characters that you forgive its inevitable conclusions - at least I did.  And, though it rambles on a bit, not unlike the florid Bobby Long himself, the movie continually impresses with its heartfelt observations, atmospheric production design and photography, and terrific bluesy soundtrack.

The film is also notable for the confident way it presents such a sensitive, co-dependent relationship between two adult heterosexual men.  Though Bobby and Lawson each flirt with their share of women, it never feels gratuitous, as if to cover up any “darker” impulses.  These are men intimately bound by drink and their demons, and not afraid to say what they think or feel to each other.  That’s a pretty rare accomplishment, even for a sincere, independent-minded movie like this one.

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Million Dollar Baby Warner Bros.

Starring Hilary Swank, Morgan Freeman, and Clint Eastwood

Directed by Clint Eastwood

Rated: PG-13

Reviewed by Michael Russnow



Million Dollar Baby is two movies for the price of one, but the problem is the one that really matters doesn't start until about two thirds in.  Until then, it's a standard prizefighting picture, with mostly stereotyped characters hanging around a musty gym. 

There's Frankie Dunn (Eastwood), who owns the gym, looking for the title contender who's always eluded him; Eddie Scrap-Iron Dupris (Freeman), a down-and-out former boxer reduced to janitorial rank, while doubling as Eastwood's conscience with a heart of gold; And there's Maggie Fitzgerald (Swank) as a distaff Rocky Balboa, already over the hill, yet angling to get into the ring.  What she lacks in muscle she makes up with heart.

Maggie wants Frankie to train her, and he resists for quite awhile.  This is a waste of time, because we know he'll ultimately succumb, especially with Eddie egging him on.  So he agrees, but the credibility is stretched as Fitzgerald sharpens up much too quickly, and can do almost no wrong once she gets into the ring.

Throughout, there's lighthearted (and often clever) patter among the principals, including an oddball gym regular (Jay Baruchal) who provides an intriguing comedic touch.  There's even a closer look at Maggie's raison d'être - why she's so desperate to get black and blue: to get out of the "hood" and escape the stilted trailer trash life of her family, an unpleasant group of ne'er-do-wells, whose lives she is determined to better.

Before long, she nears the top of her game, and, though it appears as inevitable as one of the Rocky films, we find ourselves cheering on her climb to the summit.

Then the story shifts, and we begin the other film.  Darker and drearier, it deals with tragic circumstances, including family situations.  At this point, Frankie is touching, as he's become attached to her character, though more as a replacement for the daughter he's lost contact with than anything resembling lust.

But he is now more of an observer, even as the film builds in tension and Maggie's family tries to cash in.  He is hard pressed to take command, and this lack of control leaves him anguished.  It is here that Eastwood rises to an acting level previously stilted by his monotonous speech patterns.

Swank is earnest and performs well, but is not totally believable as a prizefighter.  Freeman is fine as Eastwood's old friend, but with the exception of a scene or two this role doesn't begin to strain his acting musculature.

As a director, Eastwood is first-rate and his visual choices help set the mood, delivered aptly by cinematographer Tom Stern, though only serviceably by production designer Henry Bumstead.  As producer, however, Eastwood might have exercised a firmer grip on the fairly adept script by Paul Haggis, who was also one of the producers.  It is often filled with cliché characters, and the final bout with Maggie's family is too over-the-top.


All in all, Million Dollar Baby is not a great movie, and makes us wait too long 'til it finally becomes a somewhat good one.

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Ocean's Twelve Warner Bros.


Starring Brad Pitt, Catherine Zeta-Jones, George Clooney, Julia Roberts, Matt Damon, et al.

Directed by Steven Soderbergh

Rated: PG-13

Reviewed by Aaron Licht



Can any critical review sway the prospective audience of Ocean’s Twelve?  With Pitt, Clooney, Roberts, Zeta-Jones, Damon, Cheadle, et al., following up from a surprisingly enjoyable predecessor, if there was ever a film that sold itself, this is it.  Even the title assumes that the sequel will deliver the same thrills as the first, with just a little more.  But Soderbergh has ignored the conventional studio logic of “bigger therefore better.”  Ocean’s Twelve attempts to forgo both sequel and caper movie formulae, with highly enjoyable performances and an entirely forgettable story.

The film opens with Ocean’s one-time team living as millionaires.  But Terry Benedict (Andy Garcia) has tracked down the thieves that stole his money, and he wants it back.  With interest.   In a playful sequence, Benedict’s hunt reintroduces us to our charismatic stars one by one.  They must pay for the nerve they exhausted in the first movie.  They reassemble not for wealth but to pay a debt of $190 million.  All it takes is three heists in a European playground.

Strictly speaking, the plot itself isn’t of huge importance.  It only requires impossible heists and many opportunities for our mega-star cast to play around.  These actors know the world adores them and they constantly joke around and invite us to enjoy their self-conscious cool.  This spirit can be a lot of fun. Damon insists they’re too hot to work anywhere in the states.  It is crucial the audience appreciate such double-meaning to fully enjoy the film.  The climax even involves a surprisingly self-conscious twist on Julia Roberts’ star persona. 

The comic highlight of the film is easily Damon’s overeager understudy Linus Caldwell.  In a memorable scene, Pitt and Clooney agree to test if  Damon’s skills are ready for the big time.  They invite him inside the deal-making con artist world, with the accompanying cool, con artist jive.  Damon proves he is still far from Pitt-league. 

The plot is soon complicated with both a mysterious French rival thief known as the "Night Fox" and Zeta-Jones’ dedicated CIA agent.  In many ways, Soderbergh deviates from the normal logic of the caper movie itself.  With good cause; Soderbergh is one of the world’s foremost directors and his desire to experiment with film form comes as no surprise. (See The Limey (1999) & the hilarious Schizopolis (1997)).  But Ocean’s Twelve is in danger of getting lost in its own cleverness to the point that the audience just doesn’t care about the heist.  We start to wish for a simple “three casinos at once” heist.  It’s just more fun that way.

For a rich European romp around Paris, Rome and Amsterdam, the locations are surprisingly forgettable.  But all aside, the reason to watch the film is obvious; the ensemble’s chemistry is fantastic.  These actors are having great fun and clearly on vacation from their normal star pressure.  Brad is an uber cool, aloof, food eating, sex titan.  George is the witty, powerful, oldest man in charge with that highly emotive eyebrow thing.  Zeta-Jones is sexy, clever and always one step ahead of the boys.  And of course Matt Damon, with that angsty boyish energy he does so well.  With such a large ensemble cast, the talent of brilliant actors seem to miss the spotlight; Don Cheadle, Bernie Mac, Casey Affleck, and Scott Caan are only given fleeting moments. 

Perhaps in time, Ocean Twelve’s spirit will grow on me.  Critical rating aside, if you enjoy these actors, then you should enjoy the movie.

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A Very Long Engagement Warner Independent FIlms

Starring Audrey Tautou, Gaspard Ulliel, and Jean-Pierre Becker

Directed by Jean-Pierre Jeunet

Rated: R







Reviewed by Rachel Ferguson



I like French movies.  I like the way the actors’ mouths purse and grin and twist into all shapes to wrap around the simultaneously guttural and enunciated syllables.  Mostly, I like putting my years of high school and college French to use by covering up the subtitles and seeing how much I can pick up.

This makes me slightly predisposed to liking Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s A Very Long Engagement.  Jeunet, director of the very popular Amelie, has a distinct (and self-proclaimed) style. Many of the cinematic aspects of each film are similar- elaborate use of color, shadow and scene, great attention to visual detail, an outside narrator, and some of the same cast members.  Unfortunately though, these similarities are distracting at times. Jeunet’s artistic choices are what made Amelie innovative and unique, but they don’t always fit in as well in the newer film (i.e. interspersed between horrific battle scenes).  In fact, Jeunet’s whole-hearted embrace of his style tends to impinge on the flow of the film, and rob it of a chance at originality.

The film’s story, though, is intriguing. During World War I, some French soldiers used self-mutilation to get out of fighting. Manech (Gaspard Ulliel) is one of five soldiers who shoots themselves in the hand and are punished by being sent into no man’s land, between enemy lines. His whereabouts after being wounded in this field of battle are unknown, but he is presumed dead. His lover and fiancée, Mathilde (the effervescent and omnipresent Audrey Tautou) refuses to accept that he has died, and devotes her life to finding her lost fiancé. I personally feel conflicted about Tautou, because while I think she is a very expressive actress, I suspect that her casting in this film is in direct response to how well Amelie was received. (I have this vision of film producers sitting in room thinking- in French- “how can we sell this in America? We’ve got to get Audrey back in this one; otherwise they’ll never buy it….” But maybe that’s just the pessimist in me speaking.)

One strong point of the film is its collection of very talented supporting actors. In the search for Manech, Mathilde researches the lives of the four men he is condemned with, and the people whose lives they were part of. This results in an expanded circle of people who she connects with to learn more about the mystery of her fiancé’s whereabouts. While the actors can be commended for embracing their supporting roles fully (including Jodie Foster! Who says Americans don’t embrace French culture? Freedom fries be damned), their performances are discredited by the lack of story time they receive. The plot moves quickly, and leaves some side stories unfinished.

The film is aesthetically beautiful, and well-acted; the cinematic style that made Amelie so beautiful is effective in this film as well. I feel, though, that its similarity to Jeunet’s very popular earlier film deprives it of some depth it could have reached had he approached it from a different angle.

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