because you can't have too much entertainment... May 2002

Onward Kirsten soldiers...
Spider-Man Dir: Sam Raimi Screenplay: David Koepp
Starring:Tobey Maguire, Willem Dafoe, Rosemary Harris and Kirsten Dunst.
The Cat's Meow Dir: Peter Bogdanovich. Screenplay:
Starring:Eddie Izzard, Edward Herman, Cary Elwes, Joanna Lumley and Kirsten Dunst.

Kirsten Dunst has been acting since she was a toddler but she first made pop culture contact in 1994 in the difficult role of Claudia the child vampire in the long-awaited Interview With a Vampire film. After a Golden Globe nomination for her efforts there, she worked steadily in features as varied as Jumanji, Get Over It, and Wag the Dog until she grew into leading-lady age. In the past three years she came into full actorly blossom, exhibiting enormous range in a quartet of stellar performances.

The first of these, Dick featured Kirsten opposite Michelle Williams as two teen girls obsessed with President Richard Nixon. Dunst showed us a heretofore unrealized comic sparkle and gave the film many fresh and funny moments that more seasoned or less gifted performers might have missed. Her ease with the zany material is obvious and her joy in performing it infectious. Then came a truly eye-opening star turn in The Virgin Suicides. As Luxx, the "stone cold fox" who served as the soul of the film -she gave a performance of inspiration and mystery, seemingly embodying adolescent unknowability in her tiny frame and sad distant eyes. Just as we were recovering from that film, she brought the house down again with her exuberant take on cheerleading captain Torrance in the terrific Bring It On.

Finally she topped that impressive triple hitter last fall with her soul searching portrait of reckless love undone by alcoholism in crazy/beautiful. Her rapport with her co-stars in this film is amply evident and you can feel it coursing through all her work. The girl gives good chemistry. You can feel in her work a strong connection to the other players, no matter which type of relationship is portrayed. Unfortunately, the film crazy/beautiful was a sad casualty of Hollywood interference, its edges softened by concerned executives. But Kirsten's work survived the intrusion.

After this series of artistic highs, Dunst was in the position to take on anything. So it was with great anticipation that I awaited her next move. This month brings us a happy treat, a double helping of Dunst -a twin set reminder of what she can accomplish onscreen.

The Cat's Meow
"The whisper told most often..." is the tag line to this movie, a comeback hopeful from director Peter Bogdanovich, he of The Last Picture Show fame. The whisper does not, other than perhaps in self- referential gest, refer to Bogdanovich's infamous exploits with young female co-stars. Nor does it refer to his much maligned career trajectory from Oscar winner to has-been. No, "the whisper told most often..." refers to a widely forgotten (outside of certain circles) Hollywood tale involving the sudden suspicious death of producer Thomas Ince shortly after a yachting trip he took with other 20s era luminaries. Onboard were publishing magnate and multi millionaire Hearst, young silent actress Marion Davies, world famous movie star Charlie Chaplin, and gossip luminary Louella Parsons among several others.

When a moviegoer hears this setup, he's bound to be intrigued. It seems like an ideal film showcase for Old Hollywood style, exubarant wit, and period hijinx. But sometimes premise and execution meet at the great divide of budget and part company. I'm not sure what it is aside from the stage-bound feel (it takes place on a yacht but you never seem to see the ocean) but the film feels unfairly hemmed in. There are moments when it threatens to leap out of its stockings; there's a running humorous conceit of the passengers yelling out "Charleston" when things get uncomfortable which makes for sudden dancing diversions. There are also glimmers of the glamour, intelligence, and silliness that one expects from the material. You can see them in beautiful grace note scenes like the one in which the passengers of the yacht screen Marion's upcoming silent film. But for most of the running time what should have been a stinging and witty retro piece seems like a minor period drama with a wet blanket thrown atop it.

The film also suffers from what appear to be less than enthusiastic performances onscreen. It shocks me to say it, but normally outrageous comic performers like Eddie Izzard and Jennifer Tilly seem to miss laughs that they should be able to elicit in their sleep. That they play larger-than-life figures like Charlie Chaplin and gossip maven Louella Parsons makes this lack of comic energy stranger still. There's a muted tone to the acting that I would have to guess comes from the direction -since it seems so consistent among the players. The killjoy atmosphere seems to hit long before any dark plot developments occur.

Luckily, this style of performance doesn't deter Kirsten Dunst. She stays within the overall tonal framework but comes up smelling like a rose with this understated portrayal. Her acting seems quieter than usual, sometimes her voice is like a whisper itself. All the better to illustrate the tentative and precarious state of mind that Marion Davies, her character, finds herself in aboard the yacht. She's torn between her lover Hearst, her would-be lover Chaplin, and the doomed man, Thomas Ince that wants her allegiance in the business. This is an affectionately drawn characterization and Dunst exhibits a perceptive mix of adult and child qualities. She's nailed the war of temperament between Marion, the grown loving woman and star and the remnants of Marion, the flighty teen-ager.

But most importantly Dunst really sells the triangular relationship that the film's tragedy spins on. She pulls you into her foolish dalliance with Chaplin despite little help from Eddie Izzard's work in the film. And she also quite magically conveys Marion's love for Hearst. Younger woman/older man and gold digger/millionaire relationships are a dime a dozen in both the movies and in Hollywood history so it's something of a Herculean task to sidestep audience preconceptions of these unions. But she does just that. This gifted actress gently guides you to your own conclusions about Marion. She believes in her character and the unlikely love affair. And consequently, the audience will too. Though it falls short of her best performances it's still a clear indication of the remarkable actress she's become. She's far and away the best thing about this little tentative film and she even sings (beautifully) over the closing credits.

As her voice trailed off and the film ended, I felt more than a little bittersweet about the experience. I had hoped that the film would rise and soar above it's whisper to become a full bodied comic or dramatic gem, but I'll take it for what it is. I'll just retitle this quiet modest little picture, The Kitten's Meow so I can love it a little more.

 

Spider-Man
Spider-Man on the other hand doesn't need another name. But he does have one. To invert an already famous line from the picture "Do you really want to know who he is? (beat) He's Peter Parker." In fact, let's be honest. Peter Parker is even better than the web slinger. Of all the superheroes of significant fame, Superman, Batman, WonderWoman, etc... Spider-Man is the only one who remains interesting as a civilian. Peter Parker may feel like a dork in his every day life but he's the only superhero who maintains his fascination sans mask. Batman's bitter and slightly bonkers Bruce Wayne comes close but Parker still wins this game, hands down. Plus he doesn't need a utility belt to scale walls.

So, that said, it was a mark of true inspiration to find a real actor to play the 'real' character of Peter Parker. Leave Spider-Man for the stuntmen and visual effects gurus. They have some bugs to work out still but they do a decent job of visualizing our lithe and jumpy hero. While I have never been a great fan of Tobey Maguire's much lauded work, I'll concede that he is perfect for this part. Peter Parker's journey from awkward teenager to friendly neighborhood superhero, for example, is never less than believable thanks to his conviction in the role. One of my favorite sequences in the picture is Peter Parker's slow discovery of his powers. Maguire's acting style, which tends to border on the somnabulistic, actually works like a charm this time out. He ever so slowly shifts from purely stupified to amusingly bewildered. Then he turns Parker slowly towards joy and the thrill of discovery. This lengthy 'training' sequence is funny, heartfelt, visually interesting, and giddily played. It's a hoot.

Despite the visual high of watching a superhero leaping across rooftops or swinging through the air at incredibly dangerous speeds, the film is really a love story. Peter Parker tells you as much right from the start in annoying voiceover. Usually love stories don't go over well in action blockbusters, and feel like token screenplay points. The most they ever manage to become is a non-annoying subplot -think The Matrix or Terminator or the first and third installments of the Batman series. These love stories often fail because the action is the principle selling point. But in Peter Parker's world... things are much different. The role of Mary Jane Watson is not much of an acting opportunity but watch Dunst nearly steal the whole film anyway. She imbues the token girlfriend role with such warmth and game spirit that the audience falls in love right along with Spidey himself. The normal collective response while watching action blockbusters goes all topsy turvy as a result. "Enough with the fighting----Cut to the chase and give us the kiss!" When the moment arrives, upside down in the pouring rain, it's a keeper. As Spider-Man zips back up on his web into the skyscrapers, Mary Jane looks so suddenly and happily skyward, that I felt a little dizzy with affection myself.

The rest of the cast is a mixed bag, however. James Franco, so great last year in the James Dean biopic on television, is something of a non-presence as Peter Parker's best friend. And there are other missteps. While I appreciate the film's straight faced take on the superhero mythos...the old-fashioned feel became too forced at times. I wanted less and less of the corny home dynamics of Aunt May and Uncle Ben as the film progressed. And finally, in the crucial villian role, things go considerably wrong. Spider-Man's villians were never as grandly conceived as the evil that Batman had to face, so I was hoping that Sam Raimi's inventive qualities as a director would come into play here. Screenwriter David Koepp and actor Willem Dafoe work hard to juice the Green Goblin up by concentrating on his inherent Jekyll and Hyde melodrama. Unfortunately, it doesn't work. Dafoe gives an overheated star turn that reads as embarassing theatrics rather than psychological chills. But it's not entirely his fault. Dafoe has to deliver many of his lines while wearing the cheap green metal mask that the production team inexplicably placed atop the Green Goblin's head and his acting takes on the annoying over-sell cadence that often affects star voice work in animation.

Despite these errors in judgment or performance, this film is rich in pure entertainment value. Despite their obvious computer generated and cartoony look, I thought the fight sequences worked splendidly. The last battle in particular really ratchets up the tension, as it should being the climax and all.

Whether Spiderman is swinging through Manhattan, narrowly escaping Goblin's attacks, or discovering his newfound abilities -you'll want to be along for the ride. It's a rollercoaster. But what makes it stand proud and tall in the blockbuster world of summer films and visual effects is its heart. With the just-right Tobey Maguire and the incomparable Kirsten Dunst all goo goo eyed for each other, the heart of this blockbuster is in the right place: On its webbed sleeve. I'm happy to confirm that it wears it well.

 

I can't stop singing the praises of Kirsten Dunst. But I'm aware that I'm probably preaching to the converted. After all, millions have already seen her as Mary-Jane. The media has also embraced her. They had been distracted previously by her chief rivals to next-big-thing status, Reese Witherspoon and Julia Stiles. Yes, Dunst is hardly lacking for press at this point. You'll probably read in any of the numerous profile pieces about her, sprouting up at newsstands everywhere, that her family calls her 'Kiki'. We'll just call her wonderful. She's proving herself to be 2002's 'Most Valuable Player.' And forget the 'Next Big Thing' moniker. To this filmgoer she achieved that hopeful title years ago. In the end, it's all a matter of semantics. But I'll give her one last title. If Young Hollywood has ever given us a clearer candidate for The Future of Movies, I haven't seen him or her.

-Nathaniel

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