Showing posts with label Jeff Goldblum. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jeff Goldblum. Show all posts

Monday, May 25, 2015

Mortdecai

Mortdecai - Dir. David Koepp (2015)


Oh, Johnny Depp, what have you done?
There’s no doubting that Johnny Depp is an iconoclastic performer. He was always a well-respected actor who finally shot into the upper stratosphere of superstardom after Pirates of the Caribbean. Ever since the emergence of Jack Sparrow, Depp’s track record has been rather iffy. His high-profile roles in Alice in Wonderland, The Lone Ranger, and Dark Shadows were criticized for being nothing more than one-note cartoon characters. Is he simply trying to recapture the magic of Captain Jack?
Depp doesn’t do himself any favors with yet another overly mannered performance in Mortdecai, based on a series of novels by Kyril Bonfiglioli.
Lord Charlie Mortdecai is a renowned art dealer and a self-absorbed aristocrat. He also owes £8 million in back taxes to the British government, much to the dismay of his long-suffering wife Johanna (Gwyneth Paltrow). Meanwhile, a valuable Goya painting has been stolen during a restoration. As it turns out, the stolen painting leads to yet another long-lost Goya that would be priceless on its own. The artwork was looted by the Nazis during WWII and Hermann Goering himself was rumored to have written the numbers to his Swiss bank accounts on the back of the canvas. Now, a litany of ne’er do wells are after the paintings from a Russian gangster (Ulrich Thomsen) to notorious terrorist Emil Strago (Jonny Pasvolsky). MI5’s Inspector Alistair Martland (Ewan McGregor) must enlist the aid of Mortdecai, who is reluctant to agree because Martland holds an unrequited torch for Johanna.
There’s a part of me that actually admires that a film like Mortdecai was actually made. It’s the type of picture no one makes anymore, a throwback to the old screwball comedies of Howard Hawks and Preston Sturges with a dash of The Pink Panther. Despite the best efforts of Depp and Paltrow, their dialogue has none of the same snap or wit. Chalk that up to screenwriter Eric Aronson whose last credit was the dubious On the Line starring ‘N Sync’s Lance Bass. Mortdecai’s idea of humor revolves around Johanna gagging at the prospect of kissing her hubby’s ludicrous mustache, a nymphomaniac played by Olivia Munn, and Mortdecai nearly getting his testicles hooked to a car battery.
David Koepp directed Mortdecai and he’s a filmmaker who knows his stuff. He’s written big blockbusters such as Jurassic Park and Spider-Man, along with directing psychological thrillers (Secret Window), rom-coms (Ghost Town), and action (Premium Rush). Koepp clearly drew inspiration from classics like Charade and How to Steal a Million in attempting to make Mortdecai a modern globetrotting caper. If you remember, Depp already starred in one of these (The Tourist) and the results weren’t any better. Koepp is really let down by the flat material. The slapstick lacks any energy and the whole thing drags on interminably.
As Depp borrowed heavily from Keith Richards for his turn as Jack Sparrow, he draws from British comedian Terry-Thomas for his performance and look as Mortdecai, right down to the gap in his teeth. Sadly, Depp seems content with performing shtick than any sort of subtleties and it becomes tiresome in the long run. Paltrow gets to dust off her British accent, but her and Depp don’t have the chemistry that she and Robert Downey Jr. do. The one highlight in Mortdecai is Paul Bettany, who clearly relishes the opportunity to do some comedy for a change. Bettany goes Cockney to play Mortdecai’s manservant/bodyguard Jock.

One can imagine Mortdecai working had it come along in the 60’s with Peter Sellers or Terry-Thomas himself in the title role. Today, Mortdecai is an anachronistic bore. It seems as if all Johnny Depp hoped for was to amuse himself and on that level he succeeded.

Rating: * (*****)

Saturday, November 13, 2010

Morning Glory

Morning Glory - Dir. Roger Michell (2010)


In the vein of Broadcast News comes Morning Glory, a slick and breezy comedy from director Roger Michell (Notting Hill), producer JJ Abrams (Lost, Star Trek), and screenwriter Aline Brosh McKenna, who previously turned her attention to the world of fashion with The Devil Wears Prada.

Rachel McAdams plays the plucky heroine in Becky Fuller, a news producer for the morning talk show, Good Morning, New Jersey. We're introduced to her during a dinner date in the middle of the afternoon (her work day starts at 1:30AM) and she spends most of her time trying not to answer her Blackberry. She's not the typical Type-A personality of rom-com trappings, but she's a workaholic. Despite her best efforts, Becky is laid off due to budget cuts. Her mom lectures her about finally getting a real job, despite the fact that Becky has only been unemployed for like 2 hours.

After a dizzying montage of phone calls, Becky moves to the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple when she becomes the executive producer for Daybreak, which airs on the struggling IBS Network. I'm sure somebody knew what they were doing when they matched the initials to Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Anyways, Daybreak is dead last in the ratings and it's up to the perennially perky Becky to turn things around. Her first order of business is firing the show's overly tanned co-anchor (a criminally underused Ty Burrell) due to his creepy foot fetish.

Becky finds a replacement in veteran newsman, Mike Pomeroy (Harrison Ford), who is currently content to sit at home and collect fat paychecks until his contract expires. Becky forces him onto Daybreak due to a loophole in legal mumbo jumbo. Pomeroy used to be IBS's Dan Rather, covering wars and interviewing heads of state, and he isn't about to do stories on baby chicks. He also refuses to say the word, "fluffy." Becky is run ragged as she deals with Pomeroy's uncontrollable ego, plummeting ratings, and a budding romance with another IBS producer (Patrick Wilson).

Diane Keaton co-stars as Colleen Peck (Diane Keaton), a former Miss Arizona whose own ego struggles for dominance over Pomeroy's. Morning Glory also features Jeff Goldblum as Becky's boss and cameos from 50 Cent and reporters Morley Safer and Bob Schieffer.

Much like the morning programs it pokes fun at; the movie is light with a tart, saccharine flavor. It's brightly colored and slickly shot picture that never digs deeper beyond the superficial. The romantic subplot is trite with the usual second act complication shoehorned in so the couple can split then make up during the final act.

Rachel McAdams is effervescent as Becky Fuller. She's one of the film's bright spots and is engaging enough to keep you somewhat interested in the stale narrative. Becky is a dash of Mary Tyler Moore and there are parallels to Marlo Thomas with McAdams running through New York City in slow motion as flocks of pigeons fly about her. But, McAdams is never given the material to grow beyond being a sitcom creation. It's also odd that Becky would cite Pomeroy as an inspiration, yet become so preoccupied with ratings and inconsequential puff pieces. I will give kudos to Roger Michell for throwing in a very nice butt shot of McAdams.

Harrison Ford is funny in a one-note performance as the crotchety curmudgeon, but, for a famed journalist, he barely registers above laconic when he's delivering serious news. Diane Keaton doesn't get much to do other than play Ford's foil and try to dance with 50 Cent. Ty Burrell is utterly wasted. He's only in about three scenes, but he's easily the best thing in the movie.

If you're looking for lightweight entertainment, you could do worse than Morning Glory. However, as a film set in the world of network news, it's hardly Network or even Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgandy.

Rating: **