Maps to the Stars

A film worth revisiting, if my experience is anything to go by. I didn't think it was up to much the first time, but the BBC put it on again and this time I watched it twice and probably will at least once more, partly for Julianne Moore, who's pretty astonishing, playing an almost unprecedentedly monstrous grotesque, and partly for the frequent patches of brilliantly written dialogue (take a bow, Bruce Wagner). Moore's dialogue is almost always good, but that of 13-year-old move star and recovering drug abuser Benji also packs a vicious punch, and elsewhere, more subtly, in the mouths of Mia Wasikovska and Robert Pattinson's characters, Wagner does probably the best depiction I've ever seen of how young adults actually talk a lot of the time: confused, insecure and just barely covering it up.

All this is something like what we might see - and most importantly hear - if anyone ever filmed a Brett Eason Ellis novel properly, without being afraid of going to town on the dialogue (why hasn't Cronenburg ever worked with Ellis?). As such, it's an interesting point of comparison with Cronenburg's previous film, Cosmopolis, also heavy on the chilly, anomic modern rich person dialogue, courtesy of Don de Lillo, which, taken on its own, looks like woefully pretentious proof that you can't do this in film. Turns out you can, with bells on, though actually, Cronenburg films have been demonstrating this at least since Dead Ringers.

Other than these talky highlights, I think this film has a few problems of its own, some of them maybe also around pretentiousness. The big one for me is just the messiness of the message and plot, as a unity, which it isn't really. Moore's storyline on its own is a perfect, pitilessly poisonous Hollywood satire. Does it really need, in addition, a parallel plot that never quite meshes about incest and schizophrenia? Why? To round it out to feature film length? To give it some spurious intellectual heft in the form of references to Greek tragedy and elemental symbolism?

To be honest, there may be a puzzle here that I haven't worked out, because quite a lot of that dialogue I like so much seems to be satirising precisely such tendencies, particularly when Moore's character ghoulishly invokes fire and water to implicitly celebrate the death of a child because it gets her a part. And that's another reason I might watch again. But still, the problem remains, I don't think you need the incest or the schizophrenia to satirise Hollywood, because it introduces a sort of separate issue, a distinct emotional antagonist if you will, where Hollywood itself seems like the real target and should surely be all you need to explain all this very bad behaviour.

By no stretch of the imagination do I think that this is a home run. Not at all. It's very messy, and many times each storyline strains to connect. However, there's still a sense of real fascination under it all. Messy, but also very interesting at times. If anything, the film would have worked more if the performances were more in-line with the obviously funny material at the core. The one actor to truly get it is Julianne Moore, who is easily the best performer here. She seems to have a helluva time, funny and wickedly offbeat, even if over-the-top in a way that works. She really does rise the film above what the script entails. Great performance

Hollywood never looks to kindly at itself when doing films about the lives of folks who make movies. But the Weiss family in Maps To The Stars are a really outstanding collection of freaks and weirdos.

Meet the Weisses. Father is John Cusack who is one of those self help promoting gurus making a fast buck on the lecture circuit and writing. His wife Olivia Williams is hardly a stay at home mom, she's out managing the career of their son Evan Bird who after time in a rehab is looking to make a comeback as a teen. That in itself is a sad new Hollywood tradition. From the time of Jackie Coogan child stars who emerge as chief breadwinners in their families have had unique and tragic stories. Bird gives his parents standing that they might never acquire on their own at the cost of a faintly normal childhood.

There's a fourth Weiss, another child played by Mia Wasikowska whose arrival by train sets the stage for the story. She's ordered a limousine and has the money to pay for it. Wasikowska chats up the driver, a hunky aspiring actor himself played by Robert Pattinson.

As the story unfolds we learn that Wasikowska has been living in Florida in an asylum, put there by her family after she set a fire. All this done with the prime object of keeping news of it away from the tabloid press. Can't have her brother's career and her father's racket be the subject of scandal.

Carrie Fisher makes a brief appearance as herself and Wasikowska has struck up a relationship with her via the Internet. Probably looking to palm off an eager, but obtrusive fan she suggest that actress Julianne Moore take her on as a 'personal assistant'.

Moore is a piece of work herself. She's a great lesson that Bird might not have the maturity to comprehend. It's the direction he's well on the way to. A totally self absorbed, self indulgent creature who thinks the whole world revolves around her. She's obsessed with playing her mother who was a great star who died in a fire like Linda Darnell back in the day. In her own imaginings she talks with her mother who puts her down for not having the talent to back up the ego.

Bird who is a Moore in training also has visions. His visitor is a little girl who was terminally ill whom he made a hospital visit for. No doubt he cheered her up in those last hours, but his psyche knows that maybe she sees him for what he is. Bird is also bright enough to see the path he's on, but can't do anything about it.

I suppose a certain amount of narcissism in show business is necessary to succeed. But Maps To The Stars is an ode to narcissism like I've never seen before on the big screen.

If I had to pick out someone who stood out in Maps To The Stars for me it's Evan Bird. I hope he's nothing like his character in the film in real life because anyone who's got to associate with him is in for one bumpy ride. But God only knows he's got any number of examples in real life to have studied for this role.

Another nasty bit of self analysis Maps To The Stars from Tinseltown.

We used to expect gross-out horror from David Cronenberg. Now he gives us weird and weirder. MAPS TO THE STARS is set in a Tinseltown of designer homes, designer shops and exclusive restaurants. The background 'sheen' is reminiscent of an Almodovar movie, plus there's a Gothic element borrowed from Shyamalan (Agatha and Benjie see dead people). Julianne Moore's performance is in the kind of hyper-drive she brought to BOOGIE NIGHTS, which helps to power the movie's gearshift from Hollywood satire into violent melodrama. One of the themes is incest, which surely needed a deeper and subtler exploration.

Robert Pattinson takes another step away from the Twilight Zone in the role of a limo driver with screen writing aspirations (like every other chauffeur in Los Angeles). Cronenberg is clearly reaching out towards a more discerning class of viewer. MAPS TO THE STARS is very much an 'auteur' movie, highly intelligent and stylized, but perhaps perched uncomfortably between satire and psychodrama.

If you've seen any of David Cronenberg's movies, then you should know that his movies contain some nasty material. "Maps to the Stars" is no exception, but this one features a different kind of nastiness. Cronenberg's previous movies showed things like mutated children, exploding heads, a man turning into a fly, a drug addict's hallucinations, and the revelation of a family man's former occupation. "Maps to the Stars" features a scene that looks very much like a scene in a Cronenberg movie, but most of the violence here is emotional violence. Every character is REALLY screwed up. That's to be expected in a movie about Hollywood, but Julianne Moore's character is like a knife against your face.

In the end I thought that it was a good movie, but not a great one. The whole movie is like a kick in the gut, so I should remind you that it's not for the fainthearted (no Cronenberg movie is).