Family night at Scherpschutter land with this rom com in the line of Love, Actually or Blue Valentine. Kris Marshall is a thirty something guy who accidently runs into former flame Hesme, who’s about to leave Britain forever to return to her home country, France, with her knew fiancee. Five years ago Hesme was responsible for Marshall getting the sack at a record company (she was the external consultant hired to streamline the company), but the two got stuck in the elevator together for a few hours and fell in love. It was a doomed love affair, but Marshall still has the hots for her, so he’ll do anything to get her back …
A decade or so ago, both Marshall and Hesme were considered very promising young actors, but somehow neither of the two managed to realize the breakthrough (he has become a TV regular in series like Murder in Paradise, she is probably best known for a Renault Clio advert 'Britain versus France’). This not so funny comedy won’t make the difference. The script flashes back and forth between the day they met and the night she’ll take the train back to France, so what we get is a man and a woman trapped in an elevator and the same man and woman walking around on London touristic South Bank. Marshall and Hesme are alright and they both seem well-cast (he the sharp-witted fortune hunter, she the uptight career woman) but the script isn’t incisive and dialogue not sharp enough. The ending is by the way quite nice.
James Woods is a cynical, quasi-amoral LAPD officer on the trail of a serial killer; he shares his experiences with his 8-year-old daughter (wife not happy!) and blames society for destroying people’s dreams. But he remains determined to catch the killer, even when he’s suspended (don’t miss his final line!).
I haven’t read the novel by James Ellroy the movie is based on, but the story material seems genuine Ellroy stuff with society being described as a mine field and the police detective as a bomb that may explode at any minute. Filmed before Robert Harris and his Silence of the Lambs (book and movie) turned the serial killer into a hype, so luckily we don’t get this pseudo-intellectual mumbo jumbo the subgenre would become identified with in the years to come.
Woods is excellent - as always - and the movie’s not bad at all (it’s actually quite good), but it’s not easy to bring Ellroy’s subversive, reflexive writings - often several hundreds of pages long - to the screen; some story elements (especially those related to Lesley Ann Warren’s character) get too much attention while others feel rushed.
I rewatched Hannie Caulder last night. But even more interesting, the evening before I saw Footprints on the Moon by Luigi Bazzoni, and Z by Costa-Gavras. Not a bad first part of the week, I intend to follow up with more good shit for the rest of the week
It’s been mislabeled as a giallo often which might cause wrong expectations. At least if you’re thinking of traditional giallo about serial killer and stuff.
Not a pure comedy but there’s lots of comedy in it, I’d compare it to Allen’s Manhattan, in core it’s a drama even if it’s a damn funny one. But the thing is that I remembered it as straight drama. Maybe it’s the music of S & G which gives me a sort of sad feeling.
