I'm Gonna Ride In A Circle.

I'm not sure how to go about writing about Andy Warhol's Lonesome Cowboys. I mean, do we treat it as art or artistic film? I mean, film is art, right? So are they not the same thing? But when looking at something by, say, Warhol, acting within the filmic sphere, should we be looking at it with different eyes, examining it from the traditional art-on-walls angle? Or should it be treated in exactly the same way as any other film? But what of installation film work? And who is to say that there is, again, any true difference between that which is displayed in an art gallery and that which is displayed in cinema? Perhaps one is meant for greater mass consumption, but can the same not be said within any artform?

I first say Lonesome Cowboys many years ago, underneath a cafe in Sydney. People kind of came and went (it wouldn't surprise me if I did the same), treating it more as an art installation. It didn't help that the third reel was six seconds out of synch - I timed it. My primary memories are of a fairly instant infatuation with Joe Dallesandro and that hot hot shower scene with Tom Hompertz.


This time, however, I noticed not a lot more.


Ok, that's not fair. I quite like the film in the sense of it as an installation, as a piece of art as opposed to a cohesive piece of narrative entertainment. There is just far too much liberty taken with the generally accepted notion of structure and exposition for it to truly be considered in the same sense that one may consider any of the other almost-200 films you can find on here. 

Isn't. He. Pretty.

Sure, there are parallels to Romeo and Juliet, but they're very broad-sweeping. The characters are for the most part either caricatures or barely there. It is more like Warhol and uncredited co-director (and writer) Paul Morrissey called up a bunch of pretty boys and said 'hey, come have a party in the desert with us and a bunch of other pretty boys and a whole heap of drugs, and we've got a camera and every now and then we might ask you to look in a certain direction and say something but it's all a bit of fun, right, here have a line.'


While that sounds like the biggest pile of dog turd the world may ever have seen, it functions very well within the artistic environment it drew from. Or almost as an examination of it in itself. It's almost more of an historical documentary, perhaps. Warhol and Morrissey appear in the film courtesy of directions and instructions given from off camera, and for much of the film the actors (for want of a better word)(ok, performers, I found a better word) seem either totally at ease or entirely bemused by everything that is going on around them. Only Dallesandro seems to be putting at least part of his back into it, and (may Joe forgive me) I think that detracts from the overall experience. Perhaps his desire to be a real actor or something saw him take this a lot more seriously than anyone else involved with the film, and that provides the film with its biggest weakness - someone who cares.


Overall, it's a terrific film to have on whilst you're doing something else. Cooking dinner, chatting with friends, staging a coup, participating in a drug-fuelled orgy - whatever. Treat is as you would installation art. And damn it, make sure you don't miss that shower scene. 5 stars. (As art, not as a film. As a film, 1.5 stars.)

Am I Supposed To Still Hear You?

2007s Awake definitely has an interesting base concept, that of remaining conscious though unable to move, speak, anything whilst under anesthesia. It opens up a whole range of things that could happen to the patient or those around them. I guess, even the rest of the story in Awake, that secret wife Sam (Jessica Alba) has conspired with surgeon Jack (Terence Howard) to murder patient Clay (Hayden Christensen) for his wealth and the malpractice settlement, which would naturally go to the widow. It's just that the film is executed so terribly badly.

Who is Joby Harold? Anyone? He wrote and directed the film, with nothing listed on his IMDb page as far as previous credits go. He's married to the producer, though, so maybe that got him the gig. It looked pretty enough (helped by the presence of Christensen... did I get across that I think he's real perty here? In case I didn't, he's real perty), in a very generic Hollywood teen thriller kind of way. But the script is. Appalling. Everyone just muddles their way through (with the exception of the fabulous Lena Olin as Clay's mother! She's the only saving grace of the film. Well, her and Hayden's prettiness), so you never care overly much about what's going on. And then it's over - it's a short movie. I can see that it's trying to power along, it kind of almost gets there in points, but it doesn't ever hit the mark. It's just not a very good film. I'm sorry. It's not.


Why is Hayden doing roles like this, when we know what he can do from Life As A House? Did he just get lazy after the success of Star Wars turned him into a marquee name? Such a pity. Apparently he replaced Jared Leto in the role as well, so no matter how it had turned out, it was going to be pretty. Small favours. 1.5 stars.

That's A Very Fine Chardonnay You're Not Drinking.

Meh, I've got very little to say about American Psycho. Based on the (far superior, in my humble opinion) novel by the terrifying Bret Easton Ellis (does anyone else think the man should be committed? Well, only if he's still allowed to write), the movie focuses on Patrick Bateman (Christian Bale), high up at a (law?) firm, young, very upwardly mobile with a whole lot of friends in exactly the same position. What makes Bateman different? He's a psychopath with a penchant for killing prostitutes and people he doesn't like in gruesome ways. And being very meticulous about it.

Yeah, I'd still probably go there.

He kills some people, including a 'friend' of his Paul Allen (Jared Leto) before Detective Kimble (Willem Dafoe) begins to sniff around. The paranoia induced leads him to kill more and more people, perhaps inspired by the fact that he also seems to be constantly mistaken for various other people - he is not memorable, so he is trying to make a name for himself. His friends pay him no attention, not picking up on his distress signals (played by the likes of Justin Theroux and Josh Lucas), his secretary has a big fat crush on him (played by Chloë Sevigny) and his fiance is oblivious (played by Reese Witherspoon.) And then there's a nice little twist at the end.


The film is so, so cold. The book is scary and twisted and disturbing, but that doesn't come across in the film. It probably has something to do with the fact that Christian Bale has about as much charisma as a dying fern. I swear to god I've never liked him in anything. Yes, he's filthy hot in this film, but I still feel like I'm watching a lump of wood walking around. I'd believe that was the character he is playing in the film if I didn't think the same in every film he does. And then, even the terrific supports don't seem to be doing much more. Dafoe seems confused, Sevigny seems to be playing with her eyes closed. And there is no emotion anywhere in the film. At no point did I have any feelings of empathy towards a single character, except maybe a moment when I felt sorry for Sevigny due to her infatuation with someone who is quite obviously an enormous knob. I guess money and hot abs have worked for me in the past, but still.


Blah blah boring. I was truly bored watching the film. It must just be me, though, because all through my Bale hating years everyone keeps saying 'yeah, but watch American Psycho, it's so good.' Well, now I've watched it, and I'm stopping just short of asking for my money back. 1.5 stars. (What's the half star for? Bale's body and great casting, even if they didn't live up to their full potential.)

Ask Angela Lansbury

I have literally just walked in the door from seeing The Men Who Stare At Goats. For some reason I was quite looking forward to this film. I don't know why, it might have simply been the ridiculousness of the title. The cast is pretty good (Clooney, Bridges, Spacey, McGregor) and it's a pretty cool name for anything.

I'm quite gobsmacked by it. Either something went waaaaay over my head, or everyone involved with it was drinking water spiked with acid (that's an in joke you'll get if you see it... and that's not something I'd really recommend.)

Ewan McGregor plays a journalist who is posted to write a story on a local man claiming he was part of a secret US military division who were developing superpowers - as in, we can walk through walls and predict things, rather than Russia and the USA during the Cold War. After his marriage breakdown he goes to Iraq to try and prove himself a man and rather fortuitously happens across George Clooney in a bar, who was once a part of this division. We learn through McGregor retelling what Clooney told him about the history of the corp, the people involved (Jeff Bridges founded it, Kevin Spacey undermined it), and the ultimate downfall of the unit. But in Iraq some strange things happen and maybe McGregor starts to believe...

It actually starts out all right. It all seems very far-fetched, but as McGregor's character (and what is with his accent? It's fine for a lot of it, but, particularly at the beginning, it falters quite noticeably quite a few times) warms to it so do we. But it does completely lost the plot. I'm not sure whether it was trying for some sort of I Heart Huckabees existential commentary, an anti-war film, a pro-war film, a supernatural film... whatever it was trying for, it completely missed. It's a mess, especially towards the end (and the ending - WTF? Seriously. W. T. F.), though it does look quite good. Clooney also produced, so one must assume that he saw something in it that tickled his funny bone (and there are some funny parts, with the funniest being the line marking the title of this entry) and now has enough might to pull together the US$25mil to make it. Director Grant Heslov is a dual Oscar nominee for his writing and producing credits on Good Night, And Good Luck, but he also has over 60 credits on IMDb as an actor. This is his debut feature as director, and possibly having the writer of How To Lost Friends And Alienate People as the adaptor of this novel didn't help matters. I think the script needed some serious work, especially that ending. I'm not going to go into too many details, but seriously. Seriously.

I don't know how many stars to give this film. It was so diabolical as to get one, but two seems a little generous, so I'm going to run with 1.5 Stars. I rate out of five. So that a 30% score. Head out and see it, however, if it sounds interesting, because I'd definitely be interested to know if I just missed something amazingly important somehow. It has boggled my mind.