Wrapping up 2002...
Roger Dodger
Dylan Kidd, 2002
This one won the Skandie for Best Actor and came in second for Best
Screenplay, so I thought I'd give it a look. I don't really know what to
make of it. The basic idea is that you've got this sexually predatory asshole
who imagines himself as an all-powerful chess master manipulating those
around him like pawns... and yet he doesn't actually seem all that successful
in said manipulations. Then his nephew shows up and asks Roger to show him
how to pick up chicks, and Roger is all too happy to play mentor, and it
looks as though what's going to happen is that Roger will be the one to
learn a lesson from his innocent nephew and develop a conscience. And so
he does... until the final scene, when he's back to his old ways and teaching
a bunch of nerds at his nephew's school how to get girls. I guess the message
is supposed to be that some sort of dialectical synthesis between the nephew's
innocence and Roger's confidence is best, but it came off sort of as if
In the Company of Men had ended with a coda saying, "Hey, that evil
guy was kind of a lovable scamp in a way, wasn't he? Let's hear it for the
evil guy!" Anyway, a couple of early laughs but mostly meh.
Gangs of New York
Jay Cocks, Steven Zaillian, Kenneth Lonergan, and Martin Scorsese, 2002
#9,
2002 Skandies
Ah, Manhattan Town. An agreeable sight for an Old Knickerbocker such as
myself.
This movie starts with a showstopper: a battle royale between what appears
to be a band of postapocalyptic cavedwellers who have devolved back into
tribalism and a competing tribe of ragged men in stovepipe hats, then an
epic zoom out to take in the surroundings, with the caption: New York
City 1846. The history geek in me was primed for a great one. But most
of what followed — Leonardo DiCaprio goes undercover in the gang
of a charismatic crime boss, is adopted as the boss's presumptive heir,
worries that he's losing sight of which side he's on — was just
a period-dress version of The Departed. I
was pretty bummed that what at first seemed like it was going to be a film
of grand historical sweep had instead turned out to be kind of small. It
is somewhat redeemed by the ending, in which the world outside the main
characters' tiny neighborhood swallows up their tiny story — it's
almost enough to make this a Pattern 11 movie,
breaking through a false ceiling of quality. But even bookended by a good
beginning and a good ending, there's still two hours of Ye Olde Departed
in between to sit through.
Time Out
Robin Campillo and Laurent Cantet, 2001
#5,
2002 Skandies
This one is about a guy who calls his wife and tells her he's just come out
of a meeting and has another one that evening with such-and-such a client
and that he might be late for dinner, etc., when in reality he's just hanging
around highway rest stops, having been fired weeks earlier. Eventually he
gets people believing that he's landed a diplomatic job in Switzerland, even
sneaking into a UN building in Geneva to do research, and goes on to scam a
number of old acquaintances with a phony investment scheme based on nonexistent
connections made in his fake job. But before long, the tapestry of lies he's
built to preserve the illusion that nothing's gone wrong begins to unravel...
In 2009 it's hard to watch this
skulk around office complexes without
observing that what the people inside those offices are doing is equally
fake — that half of them are also defrauding people and the others
are dicking around with . The protagonist's behavior is also a pretty good metaphor for
the way societies, faced with a moment of reckoning, will go to all sorts of
crazy unsustainable lengths to maintain the status quo for just
and therefore
collapse rather than taking the necessary steps
to negotiate a
soft landing. And the malaise that got him fired in the first place?
Pretty understandable, really. There's a bit in the middle when he explains
why he got fired in the first place: the only part of the job he liked was
driving to it, listening to music, thinking about nothing... and eventually
he started missing the highway exit. Some characters ask whether he isn't
wasting his time in his new (imaginary) job, working on African
development — the surface irony being that he literally is wasting
his time, dozing in parking lots and studying brochures in case someone asks
him about his purported occupation, and the deeper irony being that for the
first time he doesn't feel like he's wasting his time. He liked
driving; now he spends the day just tooling around between Grenoble and
Geneva. And who's to say he isn't right? What was he doing before? Finance,
PR, standing at whiteboards drawing graphs... not making anything, not
really accomplishing anything concrete. How do people stand it?
And lately I haven't really been accomplishing anything other than cranking
out Calendar articles, so I should probably put the Skandie chase on hold
until I've cranked out a few more chapters. Yet another affinity I felt for
this guy: if I put half as much energy into what I'm supposed to be doing
as I put into the ways I waste time...
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