Tragically Miscast: A Quasi- Review
Last night Tom and I watched "The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou".
Meh.
I enjoy the dry wit that is often present in a Wes Anderson film and I can clearly see Noah Baumbach's fingerprint all over the dialogue. What usually turns me off is what Tom calls the "Wouldn't it be neat..." script treatment.
"Wouldn't it be neat..." is a post-David Lynch practice of throwing weird shit in a story because, man, life is fucking weird, right? Yeah, life is, but you're trying to tell a story, express ideas and keep me interested enough to curtail my soda intake so that I won't need to get up and use the bathroom. Don't waste my time with cutesy gimmicks.
Granted, in "Aquatic" the weird stuff was supposed to be a part of the world these characters live in. There were fictitious aquatic creatures and underwater sets that looked like another planet all together, but this just served to make me look at the protagonist as a total sham. I kept waiting for the reveal- see! He's a liar and everything you've seen has been a desperate attempt for him to ressurect his career! But, no! It never happens. The pirate attack is real. The shark attack was real. All of these things that seem to reinforce how full of shit this guy is were real and I couldn't really understand why I was being told this story in the first place.
The tale begins with the tragic death of Steve Zissou's longtime friend and co-adventurer as they were filming a documentary. Zissou's friend, Estevan, is eaten by a new species of shark never before seen and Zissou is the only witness to the attack. There are doubts of the shark's existence and Zissou looks like a horrible sham to the scientific community. He vows to hunt down this shark and blow it up with dynamite. Then it turns out he has marital problems (with Angelica Houston- come on people, why do we keep seeing films where she has marital problems? She's like the world's perfect woman!) and financial problems and then there is this father plot that makes little to no sense.
This is where the casting trouble rears its ugly head. Owen Wilson plays Ned, the son that Zissou never acknowledged from a former girlfriend. There is some serious doubt over whether or not Ned is really Zissou's biological son and the relationship is decidedly odd. Wilson gives a highly restrained performance as the co-pilot from Kentucky turned ocean explorer and he never quite fits the mold. I get the distinct impression that he was reined in from making his usual, expansive choices and therefor made no choices at all. His accent was unconvincing and inconsistant. He looked uncomfortable in his pilot's uniform. The only time he seemed at home was in Cate Blanchette's bed. Can you blame him?
For the first 20 minutes or so, the interactions are awkward and hit or miss. I frequently had the sensation that the actor's were not listening to one another or were, each of them, acting in completely different films. They played into the dryness so hard that it felt as if the ocean had evaporated, leaving the fictitious sea life parched and baking on the ocean floor.
The story ends (this would be a spoiler alert, but knowing this really won't ruin the film for you) with an accident in which Ned dies. So, the story has two deaths as bookends. You'd think that this would provide an arc for Zissou, but it doesn't. His behavior and his sad attitude do not change. He does not learn anything and neither do we. Okay, he decides not to kill the shark but he says "I don't have any dynamite left anyway."
This is a tragic flaw in the film. It feels neverending. It is disjointed and doesn't have a point. My friend, playwright Daniel Sklar teaches that a story is over only when someone changes. No one changes. All of this activity lead to nothing. I walked away feeling empty, although I enjoyed hearing David Bowie's songs stripped down and in Portugese.
It seems that some helpful wag on Netfilx said it best- I didn't much like this film but I wouldbn't discourage you from watching it.
Meh.
Meh.
I enjoy the dry wit that is often present in a Wes Anderson film and I can clearly see Noah Baumbach's fingerprint all over the dialogue. What usually turns me off is what Tom calls the "Wouldn't it be neat..." script treatment.
"Wouldn't it be neat..." is a post-David Lynch practice of throwing weird shit in a story because, man, life is fucking weird, right? Yeah, life is, but you're trying to tell a story, express ideas and keep me interested enough to curtail my soda intake so that I won't need to get up and use the bathroom. Don't waste my time with cutesy gimmicks.
Granted, in "Aquatic" the weird stuff was supposed to be a part of the world these characters live in. There were fictitious aquatic creatures and underwater sets that looked like another planet all together, but this just served to make me look at the protagonist as a total sham. I kept waiting for the reveal- see! He's a liar and everything you've seen has been a desperate attempt for him to ressurect his career! But, no! It never happens. The pirate attack is real. The shark attack was real. All of these things that seem to reinforce how full of shit this guy is were real and I couldn't really understand why I was being told this story in the first place.
The tale begins with the tragic death of Steve Zissou's longtime friend and co-adventurer as they were filming a documentary. Zissou's friend, Estevan, is eaten by a new species of shark never before seen and Zissou is the only witness to the attack. There are doubts of the shark's existence and Zissou looks like a horrible sham to the scientific community. He vows to hunt down this shark and blow it up with dynamite. Then it turns out he has marital problems (with Angelica Houston- come on people, why do we keep seeing films where she has marital problems? She's like the world's perfect woman!) and financial problems and then there is this father plot that makes little to no sense.
This is where the casting trouble rears its ugly head. Owen Wilson plays Ned, the son that Zissou never acknowledged from a former girlfriend. There is some serious doubt over whether or not Ned is really Zissou's biological son and the relationship is decidedly odd. Wilson gives a highly restrained performance as the co-pilot from Kentucky turned ocean explorer and he never quite fits the mold. I get the distinct impression that he was reined in from making his usual, expansive choices and therefor made no choices at all. His accent was unconvincing and inconsistant. He looked uncomfortable in his pilot's uniform. The only time he seemed at home was in Cate Blanchette's bed. Can you blame him?
For the first 20 minutes or so, the interactions are awkward and hit or miss. I frequently had the sensation that the actor's were not listening to one another or were, each of them, acting in completely different films. They played into the dryness so hard that it felt as if the ocean had evaporated, leaving the fictitious sea life parched and baking on the ocean floor.
The story ends (this would be a spoiler alert, but knowing this really won't ruin the film for you) with an accident in which Ned dies. So, the story has two deaths as bookends. You'd think that this would provide an arc for Zissou, but it doesn't. His behavior and his sad attitude do not change. He does not learn anything and neither do we. Okay, he decides not to kill the shark but he says "I don't have any dynamite left anyway."
This is a tragic flaw in the film. It feels neverending. It is disjointed and doesn't have a point. My friend, playwright Daniel Sklar teaches that a story is over only when someone changes. No one changes. All of this activity lead to nothing. I walked away feeling empty, although I enjoyed hearing David Bowie's songs stripped down and in Portugese.
It seems that some helpful wag on Netfilx said it best- I didn't much like this film but I wouldbn't discourage you from watching it.
Meh.
posted by Bree O'Connor at 9:33 AM
1 Comments:
You had me in complete agreement at the first "Meh."
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