Somebody Is Waiting

After I saw it I had to stop and wonder, what happened to this work of art? It affected me as much if not more than anything I've seen in years. But I don't know anybody who's seen it or heard about it. It has holes in its narrative, yes, and sometimes I felt a bit lost. The score is brash and doesn't seem to belong to the same movie. But Johnny Whitworth is pure magic. He takes us through his personal labyrinth with a lopsided smile and infinite melancholy in his eyes. Gabriel Byrne plays his father with a shattering weakness that sometimes is hard to watch, it's so recognizable. A man who's been given a second chance to be in charge but he knows, you can see it in his eyes, he knows he's going to fail. Nastassja Kinski, of course, out of this world in more ways than one. Beautiful. Shirley Knight (Heavenly in "Sweet Bird Of Youth") and Brian Donovan as the deaf brother are two characters I would've loved to see more of. Didn't quite understand who Shirley's Irma was, but I loved her anyway. I think the strongest recommendation I can pass on is that I can't wait to see it again.

A difficult movie to watch once that certainly does not merit a second viewing. Some aspects of "Somebody Is Waiting," are frankly boring and almost akin to having to endure someone dragging their fingernails across a blackboard. A dysfunctional family is held together by the mother, Nastassja Kinski, but she is killed off within twenty minutes and then the viewer has to endure her highly despicable husband until he too dies accidentally. Even though she is no longer amongst the living, Nastassja's presence in flashback and voiceovers is the glue that holds this movie together. "Somebody Is Waiting" is a melodrama that is suffocating and has the lightness of a five hundred pound lead weight.

Glimpses of brilliance and then, what is this? As if a nasty little virus had entered the system to ruin everything. There are moments of such poetry, faces with such power and then... I've heard there is another version floating around, I would love to see it. That may explain the mystery of this frustrating stew. Nastassja Kinski's face has never been so real. A mother's heart peeled in front of our eyes (and she's on the screen for only a few minutes) Gabriel Byrne's weakness, fear and pain are as sharp as anything I've ever seen him do. Johnny Whitworth makes us travel through the torturous roads of his own pain and confusion without asking us to, just by being there. It is a performance of great beauty, Shirley Knight and Brian Donovan are also standouts. And yet, the film leaves us with a sense of loss. As if we've fallen asleep in the middle of it and missed something important. If there is another movie inside this movie, please somebody, let it come out. I'm waiting!

I felt the need to see again this coming of age mess because I was haunted by those faces. Johnny Whitworth's pain is as vivid as it is beautiful. The frustration in Nastassjia Kinski's eyes is as piercing as it is recognizable. The weakness in Gabriel Byrne's brow is so real that made me uncomfortable. A man aware of his limitations but drinking the awareness away. Tiny, insignificant, talentless man and yet he manages to provoke a glimmer of compassion that becomes the central theme of the film: Forgiveness. The film seems to have been cut by the assistant chef of a third rate Chinese restaurant. Chop, chop, chop. I've been trying to find out the behind the scenes of this venture - I'm sure there is a story here - but I have found contrasting stories but more than anything, silence. The one thing in common from those I've been able to reach is an undiluted love and respect for the director and a profound loving memory of the experience.

I was aware of the fluttering of wings, it was the movie trying to survive. The saddest, most in comprehensive mess of a film I've ever seen. The strangest thing is, you can't quite take it out of your mind. The faces of the actors are so compelling that you are left with the most frustrating sense of coitus interruptus I've ever experienced outside a bed. Nastassjia Kinski is the personification of a mother in a contemporary Brechtian slant. Gabriel Byrne has never been better, he fills his character with so much weakness and guilt that sometimes you have to look away. Brilliant! Johnny Whitworth, carrying his pain with shame and confusion is an amazing revelation. And yet, the film doesn't deliver any of the promises it seems to insinuate. The score is the the last nail on the coffin of this puzzling venture. What the hell happened here?