This film aims high. It seems determined to extract heart-wrenching, raw, profound human truth from each and every scene. Unfortunately, because so little of the characters' behaviour makes sense, and so much of the dialogue is so unbelievable, the result is an overbearing mess - and very difficult to sit through.
Are we expected to believe that a person who wishes to die, but does not wish to commit suicide, would go about it as Mr Whitaker does? If we don't believe this (and how could we - I mean, thrusting a revolver into the hands of complete strangers - and not even murderous-looking ones at that - and begging to be shot dead) then how could we be expected to make any sort of emotional investment in his character's plight from that point on? (In any event, wouldn't prompting someone to shoot you amount to suicide anyway?)
For me, expecting an audience to believe a premise of this sort is pretty insulting. If a filmmaker can't put a little more thought into their characters' behaviour, they don't deserve an audience's attention.
Similarly, how are we expected to believe Ms Biel's interactions with Mr Liotta, given the circumstances of their meeting? The rapidfire progression from stalking, to friendliness, to 'don't look at me!' was just baffling. Even by the loosest standard of believability, her character just seemed unhinged (her flicking between extremes in her scene with the doctor, and the speed with which she absorbed her son's eventual fate, did not help in this regard either). If her behaviour was not intended to be realistic (e.g., if there was some exaggerated theatrical style in mind) then surely that style would need to be maintained throughout the movie in order for the whole to remain coherent. It wasn't, and it didn't.
Further audience insults include: lazy hints at complex or meaningful back stories (e.g., Mr Kristopherson's character, Mr Whitaker's wifely and priestly flashbacks, Ms Kudrow's scoundrel ex-husband and Qwerty's puppets); a jarringly unrealistic injured dog (which, after being hit by a car at speed, lies there placidly and allows itself to be carried away by a stranger without so much as a whimper or snarl, despite remaining conscious throughout); and a guy's absurd attempt to slip past two huge doormen and make a slick getaway... in a clunky old freight elevator! - as though the doormen might not catch him!
Stilted dialogue? You bet! Just wait for the 'easy banter' between the two nurses on the way to the room where Ms Biel's tyke enters cardiac arrest. Then check out the same nurse when she later informs Ms Biel that the hospital bills have been paid. Yeeeesh.
This film seems to strain for the type of tone and affect achieved by Magnolia. But to make a film like that, you need to be Paul Thomas Anderson. This guy is not he. This guy is not even Paul W S Anderson. This guy is a bad-vibe merchant at best. A floater.
Are we expected to believe that a person who wishes to die, but does not wish to commit suicide, would go about it as Mr Whitaker does? If we don't believe this (and how could we - I mean, thrusting a revolver into the hands of complete strangers - and not even murderous-looking ones at that - and begging to be shot dead) then how could we be expected to make any sort of emotional investment in his character's plight from that point on? (In any event, wouldn't prompting someone to shoot you amount to suicide anyway?)
For me, expecting an audience to believe a premise of this sort is pretty insulting. If a filmmaker can't put a little more thought into their characters' behaviour, they don't deserve an audience's attention.
Similarly, how are we expected to believe Ms Biel's interactions with Mr Liotta, given the circumstances of their meeting? The rapidfire progression from stalking, to friendliness, to 'don't look at me!' was just baffling. Even by the loosest standard of believability, her character just seemed unhinged (her flicking between extremes in her scene with the doctor, and the speed with which she absorbed her son's eventual fate, did not help in this regard either). If her behaviour was not intended to be realistic (e.g., if there was some exaggerated theatrical style in mind) then surely that style would need to be maintained throughout the movie in order for the whole to remain coherent. It wasn't, and it didn't.
Further audience insults include: lazy hints at complex or meaningful back stories (e.g., Mr Kristopherson's character, Mr Whitaker's wifely and priestly flashbacks, Ms Kudrow's scoundrel ex-husband and Qwerty's puppets); a jarringly unrealistic injured dog (which, after being hit by a car at speed, lies there placidly and allows itself to be carried away by a stranger without so much as a whimper or snarl, despite remaining conscious throughout); and a guy's absurd attempt to slip past two huge doormen and make a slick getaway... in a clunky old freight elevator! - as though the doormen might not catch him!
Stilted dialogue? You bet! Just wait for the 'easy banter' between the two nurses on the way to the room where Ms Biel's tyke enters cardiac arrest. Then check out the same nurse when she later informs Ms Biel that the hospital bills have been paid. Yeeeesh.
This film seems to strain for the type of tone and affect achieved by Magnolia. But to make a film like that, you need to be Paul Thomas Anderson. This guy is not he. This guy is not even Paul W S Anderson. This guy is a bad-vibe merchant at best. A floater.