Enron: The Smartest Guys In The Room Magnolia Pictures
Directed by Alex Gibney
Reviewed by Gary Goldstein
Enron: the Smartest Guys in the Room, Alex Gibney's entertaining new documentary based on the best-selling book by Fortune magazine reporters Bethany McLean and Peter Elkind, epitomizes the phrase "truth is stranger than fiction." It's a story so jaw-dropping in its hubris, complexity, and mechanics that if it was concocted by some B-list screenwriter it'd be dismissed as wildly implausible. Even still, it's hard to believe that what happened to Enron, once America's seventh-largest corporation, actually took place under our noses--or rather, the noses of Wall Street, the banking community, and most notoriously, the Bush administration.
By turns scary, infuriating, and mind-boggling, Enron: the Smartest Guys in the Room presents one of the most scandalous and public displays of corporate greed and arrogance in American history. And, unlike many such stories where the architects of doom come off as tragic, broken warriors, the boys of Enron are, plain and simple, a bunch of rich, Teflon-coated crooks who deserve their comeuppance--a hundred times over. Director Gibney doesn't have to go out of his way to paint them as amoral pricks; the characters do that quite nicely themselves. Gibney just reports the already well-documented facts and arranges them in reasonably clear order, with just enough subjective imagery and clever musical segues to provide a tangible point of view.
The "stars" of the documentary are former Enron chairman Ken Lay and CEO Jeffrey Skilling, who were responsible for the meteoric rise and even more spectacular collapse of the energy corporation that had 30,000 employees at its peak. Though the bosses, along with such other top execs as Andrew Fastow and Lou Pai, were not interviewed for the film, they are seen in a candid and fascinating array of TV news reports, C-SPAN footage, and in-house audio and videotapes. The Congressional hearings clips alone paint such a vivid picture of the slick, duplicitous Skilling that it's unlikely Gibney could've done any better with him in person.
Those ex-Enron employees who were interviewed for the film, including whistle blower Sherron Watkins, the unfortunately-named Mike Muckleroy, and several former traders, pull no punches as they recount the unfolding contradictions, abnormalities, and cover-ups that became company standard. Not for nothing are comparisons to the Titanic, the Lusitania, and Jonestown liberally sprinkled throughout their discussions with Gibney. With such corrupt procedures as mark-to-market accounting (wherein a company basically "invents" their own profit projections), creating shell companies to bury debt, and manipulating energy shortages to drive up the market price, Enron took their employees and stockholders--and ultimately the public--on a financial rollercoaster ride of staggering proportions, crash-landing in a post-9/11 2001.
Though the highest-ranking Enron execs came away from the debacle with as much as $350 million in their pockets, tens of thousands of lesser employees lost billions of dollars in salaries, pensions, and stock options. The state of California alone lost a reported $30 billion dollars from Enron-inspired energy deregulations, which caused rolling blackouts across the state. Audio bites of Enron traders gloating over their push-button ability to shut down a power plant or overload a power line are stomach-turning in their unbridled greed. To show the profound level of disdain the movie whips up for the Enron chiefs, ex-California governor (and high-profile Enron victim) Gray Davis comes off as atypically sympathetic and dimensional in his interviews with director Gibney.
Adding an extra layer of ooze to the whole thing are the bald-faced connections between both George Bushes to Enron honcho Ken ("Kenny Boy") Lay. A glad-handing Texas cohort, Lay was a major contributor to and all-around flag-waver for the Bush family's political aspirations. The "buddy system" clearly helped keep the government at arms' length with regard to Enron's massive improprieties; a kind of "don't ask, don't tell" for big business. In fact, Lay's and Skilling's escalating lack of accountability and overall "who, me?" attitude draws such parallels to the current Bush administration that it's uncanny. The movie also includes a video missive from George W. to Kenny Boy that's both laughable and hiss-provoking.
Though the film goes on a bit long, isn't always as scintillating as the subject matter, and has its occasional lapses of smarts (those few "re-enactments" feel a bit too "E! True Hollywood Story"), Enron: the Smartest Guys in the Room is an effective cautionary tale--a uniquely American horror movie for our times.
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Kingdom of Heaven 20th Century Fox
Starring Liam Neeson, Jeremy Irons and Orlando Bloom
Directed by Ridley Scott
Reviewed by D.R. Scott
Bad things usually happen when men choose to brutally enact whatever it is that they think the Koran, the Old Testament or the Ouija board is telling them to do. A faith-based psychosis is dangerous because once you use God as an alibi, you'll do anything. Like taking an aspirin for a headache, if a murderer wants to absolve his guilt, he'll say a prayer.
Which takes us to Kingdom of Heaven, a ho-hum, medieval soap opera directed by Ridley Scott. It's not a sword-and-sandal fiasco like Troy, King Arthur or Alexander, but it's not a triumph like Gladiator either. Not even close.
What surprised me was how painfully dull a movie about Christian Europe attempting to conquer the Middle East could be. (Thankfully, the awful screams of anonymous heathens being stabbed, mutilated and disemboweled helped keep me awake.)
Scott's biggest mistake was his choice of Orlando Bloom to portray Balian, a 12th century French blacksmith who heroically defends Jerusalem from invading Muslims. No, it's not close to the monstrous folly of a blindfolded George Lucas using Hayden Christensen as the young Darth Vader, but it's bad enough. In spite of dozens of protein shakes and adding 15 pounds of muscle, Pretty Boy Bloom still comes across as an overpriced action figure.
Bloom's flat non-performance is a huge vacuum that Kingdom of Heaven falls into and can't get back out again. And it's a shame because buried deep in Scott's melodramatic sludge there's a good, thought-provoking and important movie waiting to be found.
Early on in Kingdom of Heaven, the catalyst that sends Balian on his spiritual journey to Jerusalem is Godfrey of Ibelin (Liam Neeson), a cynical, dead-eyed survivor of the Crusades and Balian's father. A nobleman haunted by the memory of too many useless battles, Godfrey hopes to redeem himself and his soul by helping his bastard son.
Although Godfrey is killed shortly afterwards, Neeson leaves a sad echo behind that resonates softly throughout the rest of the movie. Brief as it is, Neeson's performance is subtle, tragic and memorable. At that moment, I wished Scott and his screenwriter, William Monahan, decided to kill Balian instead.
Why? Because Kingdom of Heaven isn't really about him or the stupid, obligatory romantic subplot clumsily thumbtacked onto the movie (Eva Green, who plays Princess Sibylla, is worthless). It's about the collective madness known as the Crusades and what it did to people. "First, I thought I was fighting for God," a mournful Tiberias (Jeremy Irons) says bitterly. "Then I found I was fighting for wealth and land."
When Bloom stays out of the way, I can see the movie Kingdom of Heaven should have been. It's a chilling parable, warning all of us that even though this happened centuries ago, the stupidity, greed and religious intolerance that fueled the Crusades is still here.
I read the news today, oh boy, and in the United States loudmouth Bible-carrying zealots are harassing doctors at abortion clinics, vilifying gay marriages, blocking stem cell research, sending soldiers to Iraq to "fight Satan," and sticking labels on biology textbooks claiming that evolution is "an unproven theory."
As a troubled Catholic who believes in God but not the Church, I remember what James Baldwin wrote in The Fire Next Time:
"If the concept of God has any validity or any use, it can only be to make us larger, freer, and more loving. If God cannot do this, then it is time we got rid of Him." Amen.
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Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith 20th Century Fox
Starring Hayden Christensen, Natalie Portman, and Samnuel L. Jackson
Directed by George Lucas
Reviewed by Nathan Williams
Revenge of the Sith is a stunning, if flawed, masterpiece of pop filmmaking. At 61, George Lucas validates his decision to direct the entire second cycle of Star Wars films and fulfills the promise of the viciously bleak arc of these prequels. If the original Star Wars film was an unexpected joy, inspiring un-ironic audience cheers, this final chapter is a gruesome, if wildly entertaining, downer. Catharsis is the word for this sort of thing, and Lucas's purely cinematic version of the classical dramatic effect is exhilarating in its horror.
Let's get the obvious out of the way. Lucas doesn't write very believable dialogue. Nor does he direct actors to anything resembling naturalistic performances (yes, even Harrison Ford). But, really, who cares? There is tangible, emotionally compelling drama in these films, and it is almost liberating in the way they do not rely on audience recognition of reality. As mannered as he may be, Hayden Christensen descending into hell is much more emotionally devastating than, say, Meryl Streep believably dying of cancer.
Lucas is in many ways the cinematic Phil Spector. Spector produced dumb songs with unmatched craft and gusto that were moving in a way that "intelligent" music could never be. Revenge of the Sith is Lucas's "River Deep, Mountain High," a masterpiece of craft and complete commitment to an idea that happens to occasionally sound completely ridiculous. But possibly, the ridiculousness only enhances the effect. Because, like Spector, Lucas employs dozens of collaborators, but no one doubts for a moment these are entirely his films. Everything about them-nostalgia, cornball humor, distrust of authority, love of speed, idealization of emotional detachment-emanates from the director himself. The films are profound in their absence of calculation.
Regarding technique, Lucas is at peak-level here, and his direction of action remains a marvel. The opening shot is a bit too show-offy, but almost everything that follows is riveting and-most importantly-coherent. Action in films today is too-often a nauseating blur of mixed camera techniques (hand-held, dutch angles, variable shutter speeds, slow motion, etc.) and unmotivated fast cutting. Though at least a full step behind the masters of the discipline (Eisenstein, Kurosawa, Welles), Lucas keeps his action coherent, compelling, and tonally consistent with the overall dramatic needs.
The storytelling is breathless, almost dangerously so. So much narrative ground is covered in this film that there is little time for the audience to sit back and reflect on anything in particular. Ben Burtt's sound design is probably as good as ever, but you won't have time to think about it. John Williams allegedly wrote a new theme for this episode, but I couldn't tell you when it plays. As always, the special effects are more sophisticated than last time, but Lucas pushes them somewhat past their limits anyways. Nevertheless, the film avoids becoming mired in the claustrophobic blue-screen prison of Sin City. The sets might not withstand scrutiny, but they feel as if they exist, which is what counts.
The general reliance on all things digital is concerning, but Lucas is the movement's best spokesman. Unlike nearly every other contemporary filmmaker, he doesn't use digital tools to make things easier, but, rather, to do the otherwise impossible. And this series is uniquely suited to the depiction of impossible things. Star Wars is about visualizing and kineticizing human emotion-about turning feelings into images and action, albeit usually ones of spaceships exploding and people getting their arms cut off. It may not always be perfect, but it's always cinema, something far too rare these days.
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