1981

Perhaps one of the most effective methods of treating the life of a visual artist is to allow for the visual to narrate. In the case of Jackson Pollock, a man whose alcoholism and emotional travails made him glaringly inarticulate and intemperate, this visual narration speaks volumes.

Pollock, in this film, is displayed as something of an idiot savant, a fact that is well accepted and understood by his wife. A particularly poignant and mordant moment in the narrative is when she rebuffs Pollock's request to have a child. She simply states that it would be too much to have to take care of two people other than herself, evidently Pollock and his prevalent tempests are enough for her. What is particularly effective about this moment is that her facial expressions, her mannerisms, the timbre of her voice express a long and involved history with Pollock, something a narrative dialogue could not have accomplished. Perhaps this picture might have been overburdened by a steady narration and the montage and close observation of the visual character of Pollock would have been disrupted. Instead, in the absence of a putative narrator we are given the gift of Pollock's art and its steady unveiling of the unveilable: the human psyche.

Personally I do not want to know what in Pollock's childhood made him into what he was and perhaps there is no explanation. His wife aptly describes his weekly visits to the psychiatrist with an acerbic gnashing of her teeth; the visits are not doing anything for him. So what then? Idiot savant? Alcoholic? Perpetually tormented artist? So it appears. And his undoing by his own hand? It seems logical, all the portents have spoken of his demise since the opening scene of the film. So, therefore, was this a predictable film? Absolutely, in the same timeless fashion that foibles and tragic flaws ultimately undo those who possess them. We knew the fate of Oedipus before Oedipus did. The ending, like predestination in Calvinism, was salient from the opening of the book... but did that tarnish the luster of the story? Absolutely not. Thus we have the same situation with this film. We knew he was doomed, some of us even knew the skeleton of his life story before we viewed this picture. But we did not suffer conventionality because the art of Jackson Pollock, the only voice truly capable of doing justice to the man, spoke.

Bravo to Ed Harris for his mature and responsible direction. Bravo to Marcia Gay Harden and Ed Harris for facile depictions of their characters. This movie is worth viewing if for no other reason than it possesses a maturity that Hollywood seems to have exsiccated from most of its directors, the ability to be subtle and to let someone else or something else do the talking.

This was an obstreperous film, it took almost no responsibility for itself and was extremely predictable and transparent.

The plot is formulaic: Douglas and Archer (his wife) are at a party, he accidentally meets an attractive and icy young professional (Close) and there is instant chemistry. Why is there this chemistry? Quite simply, the two find something about one another physically irresistible. Douglas simply thinks with his organ, nothing else appears to enter his mind. He appears to love his wife very much and one would think they have been enjoying a good marriage. He has a daughter, a good career he appears to enjoy, he is attractive and healthy. So what went wrong? Apparently nothing other than an arrogant chauvinism on his part. He made a mistake, a simple mistake in his mind, then things get ugly.

Close is a loose canon and deeply disturbed. Why? Well, in a rather flaky moment this film attempts to address this question by showing Douglas breaking into her apartment and discovering the death of her father in a newspaper clipping. He died fairly young of a heart ailment, a fact alluded to (if allusion is even proper considering how obvious it was as a technique) earlier in the film when Douglas and Close are in Central Park with his dog. She is carrying some type of emotional baggage. OK. But to become a murderous, unscrupulous kidnapper, stalker, hell-bent, obsessive, suicidal manipulator? Did I miss something? And furthermore, what happened to that flourishing career of hers we briefly, ever so briefly, get a glimpse of at the beginning of the film? Does she simply forsake her entire successful career, a career that must have taken years to build and mould in order to flourish, (as it apparently has been doing), in order to stalk Douglas? That is almost nonsensical. Why would a woman, whose apartment they meticulously filled with books and manuscripts, become so vapid and wounded and prepared to ignore all of her intelligence and spiritual/emotional reserves, which ostensibly enabled her to rise to success, in order to do such damage? How could she have come so far with this type of vapidity and singular weakness? And one should also ask, why does she find Douglas so important? Has she never experienced rejection before? If so, then why is she single and wary of men at 36? Obviously she has some experience with loss, mistakes and disappointment. If not, then she is a spoiled executive and success who always succeeds. But then, why would she forsake her career so easily? Do you see how many holes this story possesses?

And by the way, how is it that a magnificent controversy did not erupt over this film considering that Anne Archer and Douglas manage to kill the "pregnant" Close? Can you even imagine trying to get by with that today, with all of the arguing over abortion, stem-cell research and litmus tests for Supreme Court nominees? I am puzzled, if the "Last Temptation of Christ" could literally be crucified for its questions over the divinity of Jesus, how could killing an unborn child so cavalierly escape scrutiny? And what is worse is that the film simply ends there! The police come, everything is okay, Archer and Douglas have their arms around one another, there is no spiritual guilt, everything is discrete and tidy. Well, congratulations! How much more obstreperous and fantastic can we get? This script is unintelligent and cliche. Every action taken is predictable but what is worse is that it is predictably illogical. There is no character development in this film. None whatsoever. In fact, these characters are about as unidimensional as one could imagine. I don't understand all of the hype, the film did not even offer any surprises. It not only doesn't work as a story, but as a suspense film it lacks any suspense. We know immediately that Close is psychotic. We don't know why, the nuances of her personage don't exist, but that doesn't matter. She is simply psychotic and somehow that is all the explanation we need.

Don't waste your time. The best film Adriane Lyne ever made was "Jacob's Ladder." Don't miss it! Forget this film, it is not worth consideration.

My highest praise is reserved for films that, with little ornamentation or pretense, accomplish their task. "Where Eagles Dare" does so with few one liners and special effects that are a part but not an overwhelming part of the script. In other words, there is little or no room for gratuitousness in this picture.

It is interesting to see Richard Burton in a role that demands little or no dialogue, especially considering this is a man who has rendered dialogue most exquisitely beautiful by the particular lilt of his voice. In this role he is frank and only speaks when necessary, therefore, seeing as how most of this film is action, he says very little. Some purists would fault Burton for taking a role that seems devoid of the usual acting challenges he appeared to enjoy attacking early in his career, but I disagree. This film is a departure from the normal Burton "oeuvre" and yet he does pull of the role of Major Smith convincingly. One does not expect this man to be either audacious nor flamboyant and Burton, whose very presence suggests a call for histrionics, executes this role quietly.

Now it is well known that Burton was not seeking a challenge by taking on this project, his primary concern was revamping his potency in the box-office by staring in a blockbuster. And he got it. But we cannot fault him for that because he possessed the facility as an actor to pull it off. Burton could be both a dramatic performer and a daring sex symbol. Besides, standing alongside a veritable "tough-guy" like Eastwood, Burton needed to be able to hold his end up because the movie going audience had already identified Eastwood as the quintessential tough guy. Had Burton not been up to the task, this film would not have been a success.

The script is entertaining and has a few notable twists in it, a testament to the skill of screenwriter and adventure novelist Alistair MacClain. Character development is not of particular importance in this story and yet one does come away with a palpable sense of Major Smith, a fact that I again acknowledge is the handywork of Burton, whose presence is auspicious regardless of his role. Overall, this film appears to be able to balance the rhythmic quietude of action while interjecting enough personal flair to make the film memorable and not another futile exercise in on-screen action and viewer instant gratification/escapism. This movie is one of the best in its genre and is worth a good viewing.