O Jogador

I am surprised that the IMDb trivia section is so short for this film. After all, it's jammed full of references to earlier films and is full of actor cameos. Because of this, it's clearly a film that bears re- watching in order to catch the many small details many would often miss. Also, because this film is ultra-famous, already has many reviews and is beloved by many, I'll keep my review relatively short. Suffice to say that it's a film lovers and insiders dream movie.

The film begins with an insanely difficult scene that sets the stage for the film. It's all in one long take where the camera moves all over a wide area on a film studio lot. But instead of being intimate, it feels almost like the viewer is hiding and peering at the many different things occurring simultaneously. This is brilliant, as the film does have a real voyeuristic quality...with many shots that are not traditionally framed but are as if you are watching in the near distance.

What follows is a very dark anti-fairy tale set in modern Hollywood. Instead of the usual story of a person working hard and doing good and ultimately being rewarded, this is pretty much the opposite. With a total jerk-face (Tim Robbins) screwing people over and even killing someone...and the consequences of this. It's obviously meant as an attack on many Hollywood types--the users, the superficial and the vaguely talented. Overall, a superb film that works very well due to wonderful direction and a black hole-dark script filled with cynicism.

One of Robert Altman's finest films featuring one of the best tracking shots ever put on film- The shot which begins the movie was a homage to Orson Welles but became legendary in its own right. Tim Robbins plays a Hollywood Executive who gets embroiled in a seedy murder case involving a scriptwriters murder. Featuring the ethereally gorgeous Greta Scacchi and some cool cameos this is one film you must watch if you like movies made about the seedy town they call Hollywood.

'The Player (1992)' is a meta and witty inside-joke, jabbing at the ribs of tinsel-town in a cynical yet comedic way, and it manages to sardonically satirise the entire studio system, with a only little bit of self-aggrandising and perhaps an equal measure of self-deprecating. The picture isn't particularly funny, though it can cause some chuckles, but is instead the kind of sly smile inducing mockery that takes its time to dawn on you and isn't immediately obvious. It's this undercurrent that carries the flick much more than the main plot itself, so much so that the actual narrative becomes a part of the running gag as opposed to a vehicle for the individual jokes to spawn from. It's a unique, and somewhat acquired taste of a, film that's usually enjoyable and equally intelligent. 7/10

Griffin Mill is a young hotshot producer who everyone bows and scrapes to because he has the powers to get a movie made. However he starts getting bugged by a dissatisfied writer which leads to all kinds of deadly intrigue.

Just when I thought Altman had gone totally off-the-boil he suddenly jumps back with his most perfectly realised film. While hardly unapplauded on its release (and in short retrospect) this is a movie that will be regarded by future generations as a classic. It is so smart, sassy, funny and has a beginning, a middle and an end. The kind of tragicomedy that gets the best of both worlds.

Robbins is perfect as the lead. He doesn't do much or emote much. As Robert De Niro once said "most people don't show their emotions, they hide them." Occasionally we get behind the shield of human indifference, but only occasionally. We don't like him much - nor should we - but he is not so bad that we can't bare him. Indeed he is merely someone whose selfish world gets out of control. Whoopie Goldberg makes the most of her unlikely casting too.

The appearance of stars in guest parts adds a bit of icing, but that is all. I loved Altman's directions to the stars who had to play walk-ons (who else could have got that?) "remember, you are responsible for who you are on screen. You are playing yourselves!"

The sexy Scacchi plays the love interest with great skill. While just a muse she is a far better actress than most and this shows in her short screen time. Shame she hasn't more involvement in the main plot.

Like breaking a car down in to its competent parts, taking The Player apart only leaves an ugly mess of oil and metal. Together it drives a tight little film that has insight, drama and comedy. I would hesitate to call this a masterpiece, but it is a mini-masterpiece that however farfetched never reaches the point of being totally unbelievable.

The pay off at the end is one of the best belly-laughs any film buff could ever get. I doubt I will see a better film about modern day Hollywood in my lifetime. Like Pulp Fiction, a film that is as enjoyable the second time of viewing as the first.

"Players only love you when they're playing." --Stevie Nicks

Griffin Mill, whose name has a kind of ersatz Hollywood feel to it (cf., D. W. Griffith/Cecil B. De Mille), is not a player with hearts so much as a player with dreams. He is a young and powerful film exec who hears thousands of movie pitches a year, but can only buy twelve. So he must do a lot of dissembling, not to mention outright lying, along with saying "We'll get back to you," etc. This is what he especially must say to writers. And sometimes they hold a grudge. In this case one of the rejected writers begins to stalk Griffin Mill and send him threatening postcards. And so the plot begins.

Tim Robbins, in a creative tour de force, plays Griffin Mill with such a delightful, ironic charm that we cannot help but identify with him even as he violates several layers of human trust. The script by Michael Tolkin smoothly combines the best elements of a thriller with a kind of Terry Southern satirical intent that keeps us totally engrossed throughout. The direction by Robert Altman is full of inside Hollywood jokes and remembrances, including cameos by dozens of Hollywood stars, some of whom get to say nasty things about producers. The scenes are well-planned and then infused with witty asides. The tampon scene at police headquarters with Whoopi Goldberg is an hilarious case in point, while the sequence of scenes from Greta Scacchi's character's house to the manslaughter scene outside the Pasadena Rialto, is wonderfully conceived and nicely cut. Also memorable is the all black and white dress dinner scene in which Cher is the only person in red, a kind of mean or silly joke, depending on your perspective. During the same scene Mill gives a little speech in which he avers that "movies are art," a statement that amounts to sardonic irony since, as a greedy producer, he cares nothing at all about art, but only about box office success. His words also form a kind of dramatic irony when one realizes that this movie itself really is a work of art. As Altman observes in a trailing clip, the movie "becomes itself." The Machiavellian ending illustrates this with an almost miraculous dovetailing. This is the kind of script that turns most screen writers Kermit-green with envy.

Incidentally, Joe Gillis, the Hollywood writer played by William Holden in Sunset Boulevard--personifying all unsuccessful screen writers--actually does call during the movie, but Mill doesn't recognize the name and has to be told he is being put on, further revealing the narrow confines of his character.

In short, this is a wonderfully clever, diabolically cynical satire of Hollywood and the movie industry. This is one of those movies that, if you care anything at all about film, you must see. Period. It is especially delicious if you hate Hollywood. It is also one of the best movies ever made about Hollywood, to be ranked up there with A Star is Born (1937) (Janet Gaynor, Fredric March); Sunset Boulevard (1950); A Star is Born (1954) (Judy Garland, James Mason); and Postcards from the Edge (1990).

I must add that in the annals of film, this has to go down as one of the best Hollywood movies not to win a single Academy Award, although it was nominated for three: Best Director, Best Adapted Screenplay and Best Editing. I suspect the Academy felt that the satire hit a little too close to home for comfort.

(Note: Over 500 of my movie reviews are now available in my book "Cut to the Chaise Lounge or I Can't Believe I Swallowed the Remote!" Get it at Amazon!)