Again, it’s an end-of-month archival expansion here at Shared Darkness, ergo this 2001 interview/feature with Russell Crowe about A Beautiful Mind, originally published upon the film’s theatrical release. To wit:
A lot of entertainment journalists — a sometimes scurrilous bunch, I confess — don’t really like Russell Crowe. I think he’s a hoot. They take umbrage with his don’t-give-a-damn-style, occasionally curt replies and get-stuffed demeanor, or maybe the occasional salty asides (after a few questions about his youth, Crowe asks, “Why are we always talking about when I was younger? Am I looking like shit, people?”) But basically Russell Crowe just doesn’t (maybe can’t) suffer fools or foolishness. He wants you to bring it. So if he figures you’re lazy in your questions or haphazard in your reasoning, he’ll let you know it.
A Beautiful Mind, in which Crowe plays schizophrenic mathematician John Nash. “Can we just do something?” he asks after taking a healthy drag on his cigarette. “Schizophrenia is a really, really serious disease. The social misunderstanding about schizophrenia is that it’s about split personality, whereas in reality it’s about thinking on totally different planes of reason. And this film is not a medical statement about the disease, but at the same time I wouldn’t want to think that we were at all stepping away from treating it as seriously as it needs to be treated. …I made a quip to the New York Times that was taken as kind of a smart-alecky thing: they said, ‘So what are you doing for research?’ I said, ‘I’m living in
There you have it, folks. Such straight talk has earned Crowe a reputation as an intense, maybe… misunderstood guy? (“I don’t think I’m misunderstood, but I definitely think I’m misconstrued,” retorts Crowe. “I think it’s very easy to offend people with the truth… for some reason.”) Not a problem, according to director Ron Howard.
“I was impressed with not only him but also what he had to say about the movie,” says Howard of his first meeting with Crowe. “And I also perceived something very, very important: Russell has an intense and ambitious intellect, and that maybe surprised me a little bit. In talking to him about the story, the questions that he was raising, the observations that he was making, told me there was that spark there. A person who’s going to portray a genius, the actor isn’t going to be able to fake that intelligence — that’s not a matter of just saying the lines and standing in the light. You have to believe it, and I was believing it as I was talking to Russell and just beginning to discuss the movie” in the loosest terms. “I also loved the creative collaboration that can be so stimulating when you get an actor who has smart ideas and [you] feel like [you’re] on the same page.”
“That intensity is definitely there,” admits Howard of his charge. “I don’t quite know what occurred [on his other films], but I don’t think I quite got the uber-intense Russell. Now, there may be a couple of reasons. I’m not contentious, although I an dogged and thorough. So is he. I’m not loud about it, I’m very trusting and not frightened of conversations with actors. I have a lot of patience for them — in fact I sort of nurture those discussions. Finally we have to go make the movie and I make that clear, but we had a great rehearsal period where we were able to sort through the material in a fairly thorough way. …By the time we were shooting I think Russell and I knew how to communicate with each other and there was a real mutual trust.”
Though he did get a chance to meet the real Nash (the mathematician popped by the set unannounced the first week of filming at
Nash answered no to both counts, despite photographs and other evidence to the contrary. But Crowe is quick to come to his defense. “To add to that,” he says, “we all realize our motivations after 10 or 20 years and tend to forgive ourselves for certain decisions we’ve made and that sort of stuff. This is just a more intense version of that.”
A Beautiful Mind is about a man who has everything and loses everything, and then gains something that he would have perceived to be very small, but then becomes his biggest victory in his life: surviving and having a family.”
“With this particular story, the Nashs didn’t want to sell it at the time when I pursued it about three years ago,” Grazer continues. “Their agents notified the industry that they were willing to, then people did come out of the woodwork and bid and auction for the project — and you have to sort of audition. It’s hard, it’s a drag and it create
s a lot of stress. I remember getting incredibly mad at the agent because I bid exactly what he asked me to bid to get it and then he wanted more.”
A price was eventually agreed upon (in the “million-plus” range, says Grazer), along with the stipulation that Grazer would not produce Laws of Madness, another mental illness book that he owned the adaptation rights to. “Sylvia Nasar’s book is a wonderful biography, a great read, but again it’s a singular opinion, not necessarily absolute truth,” says Crowe, who read both the book and the script before signing on. “But within the book you’d find little gems, like Nash’s mode of speaking was olympic and ornamental, and you apply those to West Virginia (where Nash was from), you look at every sentence in the script and say, ‘Does this sentence meet that requirement?’ So if there’s a simpler way of saying something, that’s probably not going to be the way that John Nash would go — he would choose a more complicated way of saying a simple thing, because that was his bent.”
“You realize by looking at contemporary case studies the physical change that takes place in people because of the use of that medication, and with the onset of the disease. Small gestures that are in place and habitual prior to the onset of the disease become physical manifestations of the disease,” continues Crowe. “You can take everything in and… understand it from an objective point-of-view, but to sit here and truly say that you’ve examined every bit of it and you understand the process off John Forbes Nash’s mind would be an absolute oversimplification. …What attracted me to doing this script was not only did you have what I thought was a great, personal, human story of triumphing against the odds, but you had a magnificent romance that spanned five decades and is still in existence.”
And what about his off-screen reputation? “I do wish it was seen in context more,” says Crowe. “The fact that I’m an actor doesn’t mean that I’m a spokesperson for anything, and shouldn’t be seen that way. …I sometimes think that there’s way too much emphasis placed on it, just as I think there’s way too much emphasis placed on people’s physical looks, on beauty, magazines that give you 25 tips on how to give a blowjob so your husband won’t leave you. I think this is ridiculously crass and fills people’s minds with rubbish. But in giving me the opportunity to answer that question, you’re also putting me in a position to make a statement that’s the kind of statement that I would never usually elect to make. There’s a lot of things about the world that I don’t agree with, mate. I’m just a person.”
Daily Archives: April 29, 2006
The Smashing Pumpkins Greatest Hits Video Collection
Is it time to stuff the archives? Yes, yes it is. Ergo, this DVD review of The Smashing Pumpkins Greatest Hits Video Collection 1991-2000, originally published on occasion of its release in the fall of 2001. To wit:
A video collection timed to coincide with the release of the
Smashing Pumpkins’ sterling greatest hits disc Rotten Apples, this DVD features
over 90 minutes of music, as well as an impressive array of extras that
includes video commentary by the band themselves regarding the production of
the clips, narration by various directors and outtakes from the shoots. But
it’s the videos themselves — combined with the attractive, easy-to-surf extra
packaging — that make this disc so worthy.
Unlike many of their alt-rock,
early-’90s contemporaries, the Smashing Pumpkins always put a lot of thought,
preparation and imagination into their videos, and it had nothing to do with
vanity. They were just as willing to play carefree and silly (the great
“Today”) as they were to go dark, brooding and ugly (the pulsing, high concept
“Ava Adore,” still one of my favorites of the decade) or take the backseat to
a carefully choreographed concept (“Perfect”). The disc also contains two live
performance clips (“Geek USA,” live from 1994, and “An Ode to No One,” from
their farewell show at Chicago’s Metro) and a little “Lost Tapes” documentary
that takes a look at the mystery behind the missing footage from the “1979”
video shoot.
God Got it Right on April 29
Michelle Pfeiffer, you are one hot 48-year-old. We can party anytime. I mean, isn’t husband David E. Kelley pretty much writing 22 hours a day anyway?
It’s a birthday today also for Uma Thurman, meanwhile, who turns 36, which still seems a bit young since she’s seemingly been around forever. Between all the tight outfits, whirling dervish ass kicking and top-shelf lounging in Kill Bill, Be Cool and The Producers, you don’t think she’s enjoying her newfound singledom, do you?
Charlotte Gray
Again, it’s an end-of-month archival expansion here at Shared Darkness, ergo this review of 2001’s Charlotte Gray, originally published upon its theatrical release. To wit:
Growing up in my cul-de-sac neighborhood, bordered by a
thick woodland with all sorts of inviting nooks and crannies, “playing war” was
a favorite weekend pastime. Us little boys would grab all manner of sticks and
brightly colored plastic weapons — later BB guns for those for whom the habit
died dangerously hard — and plunge into the woods for hours, engaging in
espionage and theatrics the likes of which make sense only in male adolescence.
There was one girl, however — the requisite tomboy sister of
the most gung-ho of the lot. She preyed on the expectations of the foolish, of
course, and almost always proved indispensable in capturing the flag or
locating the enemy fort or whatever the day’s mission was.
Watching director Gillian Armstrong’s Charlotte Gray, based on Sebastian Faulks’ best-selling novel and
adapted for the screen by Jeremy Brock, I couldn’t help but find my thoughts
returning to that girl, wondering if she was still taking gloriously unfair
advantage of the less fair sex. Rooted in fact, Charlotte Gray tells the story of an ordinary woman who finds
herself caught up in an extraordinary reality, a reality mostly explored — both
in fact, but even more so in fiction — by men.
 has been shot down. Given a few<br />
contacts, a back story and documents establishing a new identity, Gray lands<br />
(quite literally, she’s parachuted in) in Vichy France, the “free” area of the<br />
country where the French are left to police themselves and German<br />
“collaboration” is sold by the local constabulary as a patriotic duty.</p>
<p>Her preceptor is Julien Levade (Billy Crudup), a communist<br />
resistance fighter who forges an unexpected bond with Charlotte, even going so<br />
far as to place her with his father (played by Michael Gambon) after her<br />
initial cover is blown. <b>The film’s story and underlying themes — about how events<br />
mold us into people we didn’t know we could be — is especially timely given<br />
current circumstances</b>, when any given airline passenger could at a moment’s<br />
notice be conscripted, called upon to thwart a shoe bomber or God knows what.<br />
This <b>intermingling of valor and commonality</b>, the juxtaposition of beauty (Blanchett)<br />
and ugliness (the insidious, uncertain conflict that surrounds her), is<br />
<b>captured with grace and economy by Armstrong and her production team</b>, including<br />
director of photography Dion Beebe and production designer Joseph Bennett. And<br />
Blanchett, as always, is fantastically watchable; as Charlotte she gives an<br />
intelligent, nuanced performance that shows us the different masks we’re almost<br />
all capable of wearing, whether we know it or not.<i style=)
Charlotte Gray’s
narrative as a whole, however, lacks punch and vim. With a budget of under $25
million, the film has insufficient means to truly convey on an epic scale the
consequences of
actions. By necessity, then, it focuses on the personal rather than the
political. Yet Julien, though whole-heartedly sold by Crudup, lacks the
definition and shading of
we never grasp the full manner of his convictions, and the plot element that
keeps he and
(two abandoned children) is straight out of the stock dramatic playbook. Ergo, Charlotte Gray doesn’t totally get over
on the boys. But, oh, the crafty girl from my childhood? She now works in law
enforcement, no doubt targeting and taking advantage of those with misguided
expectations. Too bad she can’t give Charlotte and Julien a few pointers.
(Warner Bros., PG-13, 121 mins.)
Ali
Again, it’s an end-of-month archival expansion here at Shared Darkness, ergo this review of Michael Mann’s Ali, originally published upon its 2001 theatrical release. To wit:
The life story of boxer Muhammad Ali would seem to be a
no-brainer for big screen treatment. After all, it has nearly everything:
defining sports triumphs, personal tragedies, massive political intrigue, even
plenty of women. Yet like both the story of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and
Spike Lee’s curiously stalled Jackie Robinson biopic — two other tales of shaping
influences of middle-century America that happen to be about
African-Americans — the story of Ali languished for many years until an
obsessively detailed white director wielding huge critical clout from his last
film (Michael Mann, from The Insider) and
a proven black box office star willing to sign on for a lucrative sequel from
the financing studio (Will Smith, Men in
Black II) pooled their power capital and hammered the project through the
pipeline.
Ali is a vigorously, imaginatively
directed biopic, an immersive film experience that bristles with thoughtfulness
and aspires to illuminate not only how the time and conditions of America
shaped this robust public figure, but also how he in turn shaped them.
The force of Muhammad Ali’s personality is such that it
reaches across boundaries of creed and color, age and influence. The challenge
facing Smith then, by all accounts heretofore an actor of a uniquely
contemporary presence and connection, is monumental. And I admit, going in I wasn’t
sure he could pull it off. But the result is something magical — part Smith,
part Ali, completely engaging. Smith is a bona fide lock for an Oscar
nomination, and deservedly so; he nails the singsong, preacher-shaped qualities
of Ali’s speech patterns and famously taunting raps, capturing both Ali’s
gregariousness and uncertainty — how he would actually talk trash to make himself believe.
Equally amazing, if not even more so, is Jon Voight (below center) as
Howard Cosell, the sportscaster with which Ali shared a unique rapport.
Voight’s mimicry of Cosell’s famous cadence is pitch perfect, and the
interactions between the two characters include many of the best parts of the
movie.
Working from a story by Gregory Allen Howard and a
screenplay by the writing tandem of Stephen J. Rivele and Christopher
Wilkinson, Mann and his writing partner on The
Insider, Eric Roth, craft a shooting script that presupposes a good bit of
foreknowledge regarding Ali and those surrounding him. Particular diligence is
paid to the boxing sequences (shot high and tight, there’s a thump for every
blow, yes, but also a grunt for every lunge and a whistle for every lightning
bolt miss), but the rest of the film is often rather abstract and free form.
Ali
is, after all, about probably the most charismatic figure of the 20th century,
a one-of-a-kind starburst of unyielding determination, unfettered ego and
enormous native ability who was a genuine sports icon and media superstar before jabbering to the media had become a
means to an end, a way to increase one’s star or even become a celebrity.
Mann’s film gets this, but it also dwells on mood at the expense of structure.
While these digressions are artful, I sometimes yearned for a greater narrative
discipline, a streamlining and focus on what Ali himself thought, felt and
experienced. Certain segues, like from Malcolm X’s assassination directly to
Ali’s rematch with Liston, ring false; Mann’s desire to be as inclusive as
possible in his storytelling and to capture in particular Ali’s indomitable
independence disregards — or at best fails to convey — the ferocious curiosity that
in fact drove much of the decision-making in his personal life, including his
appetite for women (portrayed here by Jada Pinkett Smith, Nona Gaye and ER’s Michael Michele; Ali’s fourth and
current wife, Lonnie, falls outside the realm of this story).
Still, even more than most films perhaps, these criticisms
are a manner of taste; the acting and filmmaking of Ali make for an absorbing experience, and when push comes to shove
I can’t name another filmmaker whose Ali biopic I would rather see over Mann’s,
and certainly not starring an actor other than Smith. The structured
schizophrenia of their collaboration, if occasionally wayward, still bears some
undeniably tremendous fruit. (
PG-13, 157 mins.)
America: A Tribute to Heroes
It wasn’t just the candles and somber atmosphere. America: A
Tribute to Heroes, the near-unprecedented celebrity telethon cross-broadcast by
more than a dozen networks in the wake of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks,
featured some legitimately amazing moments, soaring musical performances and
moving testimonials that captured with shock-to-the-system incisiveness just
what it felt like to be an American — indeed, simply a normal, reasonable
person — after being confronted by such images of destruction and human tragedy.
. There’s also a searing moment in Neil Young’s gloriously<br />
craggy-throated take on John Lennon’s “Imagine” in which he turns, ever so<br />
briefly, to the camera after the lyric “Nothing to kill or die for/No religion<br />
too.”</p>
<p><b>Of course, there were some missteps too</b>: the curious pairing of Limp Bizquik<br />
with Goo Goo Doll frontman Johnny Rzeznik on Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here,”<br />
Mariah Carey’s “Hero” double-clutch and finally <b>the closing debacle that forced<br />
the nation to watch Willie Nelson warble “America the Beautiful” by himself<br />
while a passel of celebrities impersonated deer after the first chorus</b> (what,<br />
could no one pass out a lyric sheet?). Still, the telethon’s home video release<br />
is for a worthy cause (proceeds equal to the distributor’s net take will<br />
continue to benefit the Sept. 11 fund) and it’s not a bad idea to have a<br />
document that reminds our children and grandchildren — as well as ourselves — of a<br />
time when we all stood together as a nation, wounded but indivisible<o:p></o:p>. <a href=)
To purchase the disc via Amazon, click here. A- (Concert) B (Disc)
The Shipping News
It’s an end-of-month archival expansion, and this only slightly redacted review of The Shipping News, from its theatrical bow in 2001, is now being added to the rolls. To wit: is a punching bag of a man whose hell-on-wheels wife Petal Bear (Cate Blanchett) doesn’t even bother to conceal her flagrant cheating. Her flamboyant demise, combined with the passing of another relative and the arrival of Quoyle’s long-lost aunt Agnis (Judi Dench) leads the aforementioned adults, along with daughter Bunny in tow, to their ancestral home of <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 /><st1:State><st1:place>Newfoundland</st1:place></st1:State>.<BR><BR>There Quoyle lands a job at the Gammy Bird, the local paper, covering auto wrecks and, yes, the shipping news. He makes friends with his odd bird co-workers (<I>Notting Hill</I>’s Rhys Ifans and Gordon Pinsent) but bumps heads with the caretaker editor (Pete Postlethwaite), a power-hungry passive-aggressive jerk who runs things for an oft-absent publisher (Scott Glenn). Eventually, though, the responsibilities of his job (which he grows to enjoy) along with the casual, halting courtship of single mother Wavey Prowse (Julianne Moore), nudge Quoyle toward a more proactive life.<BR><BR>The movie condenses and abandons a few of the novel’s darker elements (gone are Quoyle’s second daughter, as well as Petal Bear’s original, even grimmer abandonment of Bunny), and while these changes by and large work they fundamentally change the nature of the story. I get that it’s <B>a sort of paean to small town community</B>, and Hallstrom has an undeniable knack for these types of stories, but with <I>The Cider House Rules</I>, <I>Chocolat</I> and now <I>The Shipping News</I>, <B>it’s also apparent that Hallstrom detests the possibility of naked human conflict; all three movies exist in sleepy subtext</B>, subtext that Hallstrom refuses to drag out into the light of day. <B>(Miramax, R, 111 minutes)</B><o:p></o:p></p>
<div class=)
The
Russell Crowe, the film is based on the life story of John Nash, a very real and very brilliant mathematician who battled schizophrenia and later triumphed, going on to win the Nobel Prize. Of course, his genius does comes at the expense of other qualities (talking to the opposite sex is an amusing weak point), but the grand point of the film is that it doesn’t necessarily have to, and Howard and Crowe convey this in a manner that is utterly lacking in condescension or vanity.
Akeelah and the Bee is an inspirational