On Tuesday, I saw Murder on the Orient Express, starring Johnny Depp and Michelle Pfeiffer.
A story that has survived since Agatha Christie's book of the same name was published in 1934, this Murder may have been better off left in the past. With an all-star cast and a star director (Kenneth Branagh), it was almost doomed to fail. And unfortunately, fail it did.
The mystique and character of a Christie novel is admittedly hard to bring to life, but you'd think with such a talented bunch it would happen. It didn't.
Instead of truly "wondering" who committed this heinous act on a glamorous train filled with people of status, the audience spends time hoping something—the train, the plot, the dialogue—will speed up. The quiet, slow pace isn't suspense-building (as it may have been intended); instead it's nerve-wracking.
The cinematography is beautiful, and the actors do their parts well, of course. It just wasn't enough to save it (or the victim) in the end.
~~~
Showing posts with label Michelle Pfeiffer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Michelle Pfeiffer. Show all posts
Monday, November 27, 2017
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Dark Shadows
Yesterday I saw Dark Shadows, starring Johnny Depp and Michelle Pfeiffer.
Barnabas Collins (Depp) is a vampire from the 1700s awakened in the 1970s by construction workers who disrupt his coffin. He's also one of the famous members of the Collins family who built the town in Maine where the story takes place.
Elizabeth (Pfeiffer) is the current matriarch of the household, tending to a bratty daughter, a careless brother and a disturbed nephew. They also have a drunken butler and a live-in shrink. Toss in a scorned former lover/witch who placed the vampire curse on Barnabas originally (yet still wants him) and the film is ready to roll.
But really, it doesn't.
Depp is predictably creepy-wonderful as the fish-out-of-water Barnabas, but they don't give him much to do. Aside from reading Love Story and being mesmerized by a lava lamp (mistaking the goo inside for blood), there aren't too many jokes of the era. In fact, the most entertaining scene is the sex between Barnabas and the witch. It's not remotely erotic, but it's action-packed and sort of funny.
Unfortunately, that's about as good as it gets all around. Burton's styling is good, but not nearly as spectacular as his previous films. All of the actors play their parts well; their dialog just doesn't do them justice.
I'm not old enough to remember the soap opera of the same name, but I had high hopes for this film and its players. The director to be counted on for visual brilliance; the cast permeated with actors I love.
Sadly, the whole production fell below my expectations.
~~~
Barnabas Collins (Depp) is a vampire from the 1700s awakened in the 1970s by construction workers who disrupt his coffin. He's also one of the famous members of the Collins family who built the town in Maine where the story takes place.
Elizabeth (Pfeiffer) is the current matriarch of the household, tending to a bratty daughter, a careless brother and a disturbed nephew. They also have a drunken butler and a live-in shrink. Toss in a scorned former lover/witch who placed the vampire curse on Barnabas originally (yet still wants him) and the film is ready to roll.
But really, it doesn't.
Depp is predictably creepy-wonderful as the fish-out-of-water Barnabas, but they don't give him much to do. Aside from reading Love Story and being mesmerized by a lava lamp (mistaking the goo inside for blood), there aren't too many jokes of the era. In fact, the most entertaining scene is the sex between Barnabas and the witch. It's not remotely erotic, but it's action-packed and sort of funny.
Unfortunately, that's about as good as it gets all around. Burton's styling is good, but not nearly as spectacular as his previous films. All of the actors play their parts well; their dialog just doesn't do them justice.
I'm not old enough to remember the soap opera of the same name, but I had high hopes for this film and its players. The director to be counted on for visual brilliance; the cast permeated with actors I love.
Sadly, the whole production fell below my expectations.
~~~
Monday, August 10, 2009
Cheri
Tonight I saw Cheri, starring Michelle Pfeiffer and Rupert Friend.
Prostitution never looked so good.
Lea (Pfeiffer) is an escort-to-the-stars in turn-of-the-century France. Her friend Charlotte (Kathy Bates) is past her prime and concerned more with the upbringing of her teenage son Chéri (Friend) than with establishing more clients. The only women they mingle with are those in their shared profession and competition seems absent from their tangles, as there are plenty of men to go around.
But Lea only wants one man—or boy, really. She wants Chéri, who has seduced her into letting him stay at her Normandy estate for a greedy length of time. She shows him the proper way around a bedroom, buys him lavish gifts, feeds him, clothes him, and probably bathes him. She is his lover, but she is also his surrogate mother.
When his real mother returns to collect him and marry him off to another teenager, Lea is devastated but retains her dignity. As the new young couple heads to Italy for a honeymoon, Lea escapes to a new home and leaves no forwarding address.
Both parties are miserable apart—Chéri's marriage, though faithful, is completely loveless, and Lea seems to take on another lover only to pass the time.
When they finally realize they can't happily live apart, it may be too late to do anything about it. Oh, the perils of true love.
As a fan of the book, I knew what the outcome would be and I dare say the film is much lighter and funnier than the original text. The lead couple is convincing and well-matched with Pfeiffer's sharp, mature features directly contrasting the feminine curves of Friend's. But the real scene-stealer is the always-phenomenal Kathy Bates, who lights up the screen for better or for worse with her spunky energy.
To break this film down to one word, I'd call it a "romp."
And a pleasurable one, for what it's worth.
~~~
Prostitution never looked so good.
Lea (Pfeiffer) is an escort-to-the-stars in turn-of-the-century France. Her friend Charlotte (Kathy Bates) is past her prime and concerned more with the upbringing of her teenage son Chéri (Friend) than with establishing more clients. The only women they mingle with are those in their shared profession and competition seems absent from their tangles, as there are plenty of men to go around.
But Lea only wants one man—or boy, really. She wants Chéri, who has seduced her into letting him stay at her Normandy estate for a greedy length of time. She shows him the proper way around a bedroom, buys him lavish gifts, feeds him, clothes him, and probably bathes him. She is his lover, but she is also his surrogate mother.
When his real mother returns to collect him and marry him off to another teenager, Lea is devastated but retains her dignity. As the new young couple heads to Italy for a honeymoon, Lea escapes to a new home and leaves no forwarding address.
Both parties are miserable apart—Chéri's marriage, though faithful, is completely loveless, and Lea seems to take on another lover only to pass the time.
When they finally realize they can't happily live apart, it may be too late to do anything about it. Oh, the perils of true love.
As a fan of the book, I knew what the outcome would be and I dare say the film is much lighter and funnier than the original text. The lead couple is convincing and well-matched with Pfeiffer's sharp, mature features directly contrasting the feminine curves of Friend's. But the real scene-stealer is the always-phenomenal Kathy Bates, who lights up the screen for better or for worse with her spunky energy.
To break this film down to one word, I'd call it a "romp."
And a pleasurable one, for what it's worth.
~~~
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