Generically speaking, Fay Grim is a highly entertaining thriller featuring two of the most inexorably enjoyable names in American movies, unshakably beautiful and gracefully spunky Parker Posey and endlessly charismatic and unavoidably hilarious Jeff Goldblum. They have many scenes in the first half of the film in which we see these two insatiable presences volleying off of each other, even radiating with charm when Goldblum rolls off Hartley's shamelessly epic info-dumps. Nevertheless, if one were to deconstruct Fay Grim, one would see many instances in which countless scenes could've been squeezed for much more benefit than they have resulted in being.
This sort of filmed in-joke is the sequel to Hal Hartley's Henry Fool, which was made ten years earlier. It has title character Posey forced by CIA agent Goldblum to track down the notebooks that were the precious possessions of her missing fugitive husband, the predecessor's titular anti-hero. Available within them is information that could concede the safety of the United States. Fay first makes for Paris to get a hold of them but becomes engulfed in a bona fide celebration of espionage clichés featuring everything from car bombs to ambiguous helpers to Following the Girl to double-crosses to triple-crosses.
The primary appeal of it all for me is that it's such a novel approach to the sequel of a movie about a garbageman and a struggling novelist in a small town. In the original Henry Fool, Posey played a simple woman leading a very simple life. Hartley's talents do not reach the heights of many of the other independent newbies from the 1990s, but I do admire his wild creativity in making an inadvertent Nearne sister out of her, giving her a terrific predicament, as he did to her character's brother, played by James Urbaniak, in Henry Fool, as she is trapped between whether or not she may still love her overwhelming refugee husband and the problematic but forceful plans of Goldblum.
Hartley, however, is simply riding on that fragmentary idea. His plot, though complex and labyrinthine, true to the form of the spy film, it seems as if to be entirely capricious. The reason I was not bored was mostly due to the pace at which the story unfolds, not to mention the presence of Posey and Goldblum. The problem with the remainder of Hartley's cast is that I cannot seem to become fond of the rest of them. It has nothing to do with how obscure they are compared to the relative star power of the two said charm masters, but with how they don't seem to hold their own alongside them, though Saffron Burrows certainly comes close. Most of the scenes not involving Posey or Goldblum are far too light on their feet, stringing us along with info-dumps we have no choice but to listen to or else be totally lost in the ensuing sequence of scenes. They are shot almost entirely in tiled angles, as if Hartley is compensating for that implacable feeling of a lack of material.
Liam Aiken, however, playing the now teenage son of Fay and Henry, has a certain allure about him, seeming wise beyond his years, certainly much wiser than any of the adult characters. Perhaps Hartley intended that, or maybe it's simply Aiken's presence. The problem with a Hartley film is that you never quite know what was intended and what just happens to be there. As Scorsese said, "Cinema is a matter of what's in the frame and what's out." One has to be able to trust that what we see is a conscious decision by the filmmaker to remain in the finished film.
This sort of filmed in-joke is the sequel to Hal Hartley's Henry Fool, which was made ten years earlier. It has title character Posey forced by CIA agent Goldblum to track down the notebooks that were the precious possessions of her missing fugitive husband, the predecessor's titular anti-hero. Available within them is information that could concede the safety of the United States. Fay first makes for Paris to get a hold of them but becomes engulfed in a bona fide celebration of espionage clichés featuring everything from car bombs to ambiguous helpers to Following the Girl to double-crosses to triple-crosses.
The primary appeal of it all for me is that it's such a novel approach to the sequel of a movie about a garbageman and a struggling novelist in a small town. In the original Henry Fool, Posey played a simple woman leading a very simple life. Hartley's talents do not reach the heights of many of the other independent newbies from the 1990s, but I do admire his wild creativity in making an inadvertent Nearne sister out of her, giving her a terrific predicament, as he did to her character's brother, played by James Urbaniak, in Henry Fool, as she is trapped between whether or not she may still love her overwhelming refugee husband and the problematic but forceful plans of Goldblum.
Hartley, however, is simply riding on that fragmentary idea. His plot, though complex and labyrinthine, true to the form of the spy film, it seems as if to be entirely capricious. The reason I was not bored was mostly due to the pace at which the story unfolds, not to mention the presence of Posey and Goldblum. The problem with the remainder of Hartley's cast is that I cannot seem to become fond of the rest of them. It has nothing to do with how obscure they are compared to the relative star power of the two said charm masters, but with how they don't seem to hold their own alongside them, though Saffron Burrows certainly comes close. Most of the scenes not involving Posey or Goldblum are far too light on their feet, stringing us along with info-dumps we have no choice but to listen to or else be totally lost in the ensuing sequence of scenes. They are shot almost entirely in tiled angles, as if Hartley is compensating for that implacable feeling of a lack of material.
Liam Aiken, however, playing the now teenage son of Fay and Henry, has a certain allure about him, seeming wise beyond his years, certainly much wiser than any of the adult characters. Perhaps Hartley intended that, or maybe it's simply Aiken's presence. The problem with a Hartley film is that you never quite know what was intended and what just happens to be there. As Scorsese said, "Cinema is a matter of what's in the frame and what's out." One has to be able to trust that what we see is a conscious decision by the filmmaker to remain in the finished film.