david-1230

There is something wrong with the New Zealand Film Commission. Something very wrong. The script for this film is appalling, the dialog drags, the plot meanders through a myriad of clichéd situations - physical and meta-physical - and flounders on the inevitable disaster that is suggested from the first words.... "Once upon a time...." Keith Hill wanted to suggest the story as a fairy tale, all very good, but why would you automatically use the most clichéd device to imply this? All it signals to your viewer is that the film's production lacked vision, right from the very moment the write put pen to paper. This is why i wonder about the NZ Film Commission. Can't they see this? Its written on the page in front of them: as soon as anyone opens the script there it is in plain sight, words that suggest boldly and succinctly, "DO NOT READ ME - I AM VISIONLESS AND DULL." But that seems to be the desire of the Film Comm, the production of dull and stupid films that nobody particularly wants to watch as they are either pushed far to far in a commercial direction when they should be left to their own devices, or they green light the production of foul and clichéd scripts because they look on paper like a commercial proposition mainly because they aren't challenging, the reality is they are just rubbish. It makes me sad as a NZer.

The Bourne Identity took the viewer on an often violent, highly entertaining and delightfully intriguing romp through Europe. The Bourne Supremacy employs much the same tactics but with a larger scope, both geographically and narratorially.

We pick up Bourne's trail in GoaIndia, track him through Europe and then finally follow our hit-man into Russia and the post-Soviet mess of Moscow for the tradition final show down between good and evil. This binary conflagration, of course, occurs inside Bourne's rather mangled mind as well as in the East West paradigm that still lingers in these types of movies. Perhaps, in an allegorical sense, that's what makes the film interesting. Bourne's uncertainty about his identity (an amnesiac former hit-man for the CIA trying to come to terms with who he was and who he is). Going on a killing rampage on the way to making an apology to an innocent victim of his rampant violence seems, in the end, a pretty good option as it is what he is constructed to be - simply it's what he is good at, what he's trained for - just as the confused American Government (here's the allegory) feels it necessary to attack whatever moves in the post-Cold War environment (Islam being the new Red of course). However, the lesson here is that one can put the gun back in the trench coat pocket and walk towards the light (standing amongst the detritus of the final conflict, JB looks back where he has come from, a mess of piled up cars and smoke and chooses to exit the tunnel where it is brimming with light).

Hmmm, maybe asking a bit much of the film here. But the flick seems desperately to want to make a comment about East West intrigue in an age where the very notion of such a conflict is essentially dead. Hence, it posits - What do you do when your enemies become your friends?

The complex patchwork of visuals and plot somehow seems to allow for the film to explore this type question without it becoming bogged down in its own special effects bonanza. Its a fun little film that manages, and this is remarkable for a sequel, to continue and improve on the original idea without killing itself. However, if indeed it really is asking this kind of question, why doesn't our protagonist shoot himself in the knowledge that he cannot change?

I have had the utter displeasure of watching this film twice. Once on a flight from Auckland to LA and again when my wife decided to get it out at the video store without knowing id seen it and disliked it with a deep, unsentimental passion - it was a cold, white hate. Anyway, I thought id watch it again just in case my inability to actually follow the plot, my annoyance at the completely jerk-off qualities of Matthew McConaughey's character acting, Steve Zahn's brutally annoying one liners, the cracker box direction and the moronically offensive portrayal of Africans as either noble mystical creatures or cold blooded killers with brains the size of small yams had something to do with the sleeping pills, hangover, the dreadful sound found on the Qantus inflight entertainment system or the food (which i remember quite enjoying - but you never know). Turns out my first impressions were completely adequate; the film is rotten. Rotten beyond compare. There seemingly is no plot - or if there is, it isn't communicated via dialogue, cinematography or any other form of signifying system - just a whole lot of stupid coincidences without the luxury of serendipity. Hence, my wife turned to me as the sleazy McConaughey and dopey Zahn were attacked by monolithic Nigerians on the Niger for no reasonable explanation (except perhaps they where bloodthirsty savages in military uniforms?) and said: "This makes no sense. Can you explain what is happening?" I said no. I could not help my darling out - despite having viewed this scene twice i could not for the life of me understand why they were attacked or for that matter the motivation for any of their actions from then on in the film. We kept watching for no better reason than it was comfy on the couch and i couldn't bring myself to move wife's head from the my lap as she was soon fast asleep and in a way better place than I. She was a lucky woman. So: Don't watch this film. Starve the director of any respect, destroy his career and starve his children 'til he is forced to give up the ridiculous notion that he might have any talent whatsoever and force him to work in a crappy video store where he will be destined to live a lonely life hoping that someone will one day make him smile by renting his horrible film. They won't, of course, for it is rotten, rotten, rotten.

Oh! And how is this? Darling just emailed me about lunch and at the end was this little reminder: "P.S. remember how awful that movie was last night?"

Perfect.