warthenj

Having not read an O'Brian in a couple of years, I hadn't anticipated the lovely buzz of recognition watching MASTER AND COMMANDER afforded. The theater was mostly empty, so I presume this will be the only Aubrey/Maturin episode we will see onscreen. But this one is a fitting bookend to the majestic series-- a stand-in for the final-episode I have presumed O'Brian left his executors to publish posthumously (presumably, one in which Aubrey and probably Maturin go down with one ship or another). Weir and company didn't get in the humor of the books (film-goers won't know how fitting was one O'Brian fan's online confession that his dream-Aubrey was Bill Clinton). They couldn't shoehorn-in Maturin's espionage or the other sides of his fascinating, impossible book-being. And those watching the film won't know the aesthetic of O'Brian's relegating battle-scenes to secondary importance (he even vaults-over a few, stunningly). They will see his archival relish, his fascination with hierarchy and order maintained under claustrophobic conditions, and his curator's interest in absolutely every aspect of naval subsistence. In a couple of respects, the film even improves on the books: the line of streamlined eloquence Weir affords Jack may conventionalize his appeal to his men, but it stood-in for the charisma of Aubrey's reputation, amassed over so many volumes (Crowe understates artfully); the film manifests tangy mortal presences for the ensemble of sailors who, in the books, flicker by as names-only. In fact, Weir's only error seemed to me the inflation of Hallam's collapse into a set-piece of cued poignancy, a narrative stutter. Spectacular film-making-- I am sure Spielberg, Scorsese and P. Jackson appreciate the ingenuity and clarity of what Weir managed. Jack Aubrey would know what to do with the churls who have recorded indifferent comments in this register.

A movie whose lapses are worth squirming through-- Janet McTeer is a spectacle even when she's speaking clunkers, Aidan Quinn gives his best line-readings in years, and Jane Adams confirms here that she may be the best young character-actress in American film. The singing's the best, though-- Iris Diment and Hazel Dickens earn their long uncut sequences of perfectly gorgeous ballad-singing, and even David Patrick Kelly, at the tail end of a badly-written role, stands in a half-light and sings a thrilling verse of "O Death". Can't think of many movies out there right now whose parts so warrant our gratitude.

I wanted to see this film from the moment I read its TIMES' summation: a sheepish night-club manager shows up for work at his new Liverpool job, and discovers his predecessor, as a kiss-off gesture, has scheduled Catholic and Protestant Irish social groups for the same night (he also saved some tables for mental patients, having a night-out). The evening's entertainment features a thrash-band screaming lyrics like "YOU'RE GONNA DIE-- DIE--DIE!" at the golden agers, a catatonic magician.....The rookie sets out to get through the impossible night ahead. The accents are fuzzy, and some of the Irish jokes obscure-- but this film is so filled with talent that wonderful Bernard Hill takes a second-tier role as a dim bulb. The film's moral center is that remarkable character actor Ray McAnally, a detective trying to find a real criminal among all the low-lifes. Few people have voted on this film-- but a lot of them accorded it a 10. Scout around and discover why-- this is one singular film.