Blow

Based on a true story of how the American cocaine market was founded, this is a lot more funky than I had expected. A thumpingly good soundtrack right from the start and Johnny Depp cruising in to be a convincingly laid-back big-shot - almost like a graduate from Boogie Nights. Penelope Cruz manages to be blisteringly erotic in a few well-crafted scenes and without removing a stitch of clothing. Later, instead of following the usual pattern of despair in the second half where most drug movies home in on drug dependency, Blow refreshingly focuses on the emotional losses suffered by the characters. A film that just about manages to be more than the sum of its parts, it would have made a nice sort of pre-quel to Traffic, but it stands alone in fine form. And it's moving rather than depressing.

Since not every film can be a great masterpiece, it only stands to reason that there are some which, as good as they are, will never be mentioned in the same breath as The Godfather. Blow happens to be one of those films. In today's market, where films are literally churned out with more attention paid to marketability than merit, it is no surprise that films of almost every subject are saturating the market. Even films about, or based upon, historical crime figures are a dime a dozen these days. The plus to this is that the ones that do come out have to do something special in order to be considered good.

Blow's strengths lie in a couple of performances, and the scenes in which George Jung's ability to negotiate his way out of a fix (or into one) are displayed. Johnny Depp plays Jung with a consummate authenticity that, especially when sees the interviews with the real George Jung, literally leaps out of the screen. It's hard to believe this guy who I saw as a fresh-faced semi-nerd in A Nightmare On Elm Street is able to portray such a wide and varied range of characters. Ray Liotta gives him ample support as Fred Jung, showing a man hit hard by his own unsuccessful attempts to keep himself independent and free, therefore fully understanding of how far his son will go to see he doesn't fail in the same endeavour. The final scene with Liotta, where he is listening to the tape recording, is one of the most touching examples of men declaring they cannot regret their defiance seen on film.

The scenes with Pablo Escobar are especially amusing. As we see how George was able to charm his way into any deal he set his mind to, one cannot help but admire the man. Merely standing before the most powerful drug lord in South America at that time would have taken more guts than most people are allotted. The Jungian method of keeping oneself calm while smuggling through customs, even if completely fictional, sums up this this calmness in the face of danger quite brilliantly.

But, and it seems there always is a but with Hollywood product these days, some aspects of the film are terrible. Penélope Cruz is absolutely horrible as Mirtha Jung, and it is hard to believe that someone as cocky and bold as George would tolerate her presence. I've heard Salma Hayek (or horse-jaw as she is probably better-known) suggested for the part, but she is just as bad. Given how many actresses there are in Spain who would appreciate a break, and know a mode of speech other than screaming, one can't help but wish the director could have shown a bit of Jungian testicular fortitude and cast an unknown.

Adding to the film's woes is the end of the story. Compared to the first two thirds, where we seem to be going along at the speed of one of Jung's sports cars, the whole thread about Jung's inability to live without contact with his daughter brings affairs to a screeching halt. That Christina Jung has never visited her father, at least according to the ending crawl, is a pretty sad fact. What's even worse is that after viewing this film, we never learn anything about Christina. We don't learn if the cocaine abuse on her mother's part during pregnancy had any ill effects, or whether she has led a life she would call satisfactory. She is little more than a prop. The fact that Jaime King, the actress who played her during the final wrap-up, is a recovering heroin addict only makes one wonder more. Especially among those of us who really have to live with permanent physical damage that may have been caused by parental drug abuse during in utero development (even if it was only nicotine in my mother's case).

In all, I gave Blow an eight out of ten. If you want to know anything about George Jung and how cocaine got to be such a hot item in America, then this film does make some excellent points. With the poor economy in America where blue-collar workers are in borderline poverty while CEOs rip them off something blind, it really is a wonder we aren't seeing the rise of an army composed of George Jung wannabes.

Not a bad movie, above average, but nothing extraordinary, nothing that could even remotely be compared with for example, Scarface.

In my opinion the main 'problem' with this motion picture is that Depp is never really believable as a hardened drug dealer, there is no way that the real George Jung was ever even remotely like that. The proof of this is in the last frame of the movie where we see the real George's face staring at us from the screen. At that precise moment we know: the real George Jung was very, very different, his face tells us that.

On the other hand, Paul Reubens is excellent as Derek Foreal and the very good soundtrack is also worthy of mention. All in all, a good movie definitely worth watching, but also a movie that could have been much much better.

Johnny Depp, (George Jung),"The Libertine",'04 played an eager young guy who wanted to out do his father in many ways in life, especially making more money and satisfying his wife. When George Jung was growing up, his father and mother always fought about not enough money and his mom seemed to always dominate his poor dad. Penelope Cruz,"Sahara",'05, played the wife of George and was a complete knock out with her good looks and great acting skills. George Jung hit the top of his chosen career with rooms filled with millions of dollars and lots of white powder to blow up the nostrils. If you like pictures dealing with drugs and the outcome of enjoying this junk, this is the picture for you. Johnny Depp, gave an outstanding performance and put his heart and soul into this role.

There's something relentlessly self-serving about the (auto)biographies of criminals. There are too many plays for sympathy; a certain neatness in the way events always seem to absolve the criminal of blame; a sense of something being laid on a little too thick. So it is with 'Blow'.

George Jung, as played by Johnny Depp, is a perpetual ingenue. His character is a catalogue of good looks and sweet gestures, and he has a downright saintliness in his dealings with others that's so slick and saccharine that one can see the con coming from miles away. George is kind to his friends, generous to his business partners, oddly enough always the victim and never the perpetrator of double crossings, and by God, he loves his daughter. I was disappointed that there were no scenes of Johnny Depp administering aid to wounded animals, but it's possible that these were cut to allow the film to run its current six hours in length.

While there's a certain low humour in watching film-makers unknowingly playing the role of patsies, the warped and jagged caricatures Jung's narrative makes of the other people in his story (the better to portray him as Christ) soon nip any fun in the bud. George's mother (Rachel Griffiths, utterly wasted) is a cold, insatiate bitch; his wife (Penelope Cruz, hysterical) is a coke-mad, tantrum throwing ingrate, and his West Coast distributor (Paul Reubens, the less said the better) is a limp wristed fairy (largely, I suspect, so as not to threaten George's position as the film's only sympathetic, attractive, non-ethnic heterosexual male). It's notable that the only female close to Jung who gets anything like a good rap is his flower-child stewardess fiancee Barbara, who rather conveniently drops dead before her relations with him have a chance to sour.

While it's not exactly unentertaining - the film's early-mid section works well as an evocation of sunlit good times - 'Blow's' inherent manipulativeness is never far beneath the surface. Once things go bad for Jung, the film starts to sag in sympathy (literally) with him, and becomes instead a chronicle of Bad and Unjust Things Suffered with Commendable Stoicism by George Jung. My advice would be to have already left the theatre by this point. The ending is painfully overblown and drawn out, and we are forced to endure one of the more 'off' moments in recent cinema as the film primly castigates Jung's daughter for not visiting her father in jail. I'm sure she has her reasons.