Movie Review: The Osterman Weekend (1983)

A muddled thriller and the final film directed by Sam Peckinpah, The Osterman Weekend has a weak script and distracted execution.

CIA agent Laurence Fassett (John Hurt) loses his wife to an assassination. His subsequent investigation leads him to uncover a Soviet spy network known as Omega, consisting of three former college classmates: plastic surgeon Richard Tremayne (Dennis Hopper), stock trader Joseph Cardone (Chris Sarandon) and television producer with radical tendencies Bernie Osterman (Craig T. Nelson). Fassett convinces CIA director Maxwell Danforth (Burt Lancaster) that he can turn at least one of the spies into a double agent, with the help of controversial television journalist John Tanner (Rutger Hauer), also a former classmate of the men.

Fassett and Danforth lean on Tanner and cajole him into helping out with the plot. On a weekend when the Omega three are converging at Tanner's secluded house with their wives, Fassett wires the place up with numerous cameras and microphones. From a command post in the woods Fassett then orchestrates mind games against the spies to try to unhinge them and get at least one of them to consider becoming a double. But all is not what it seems, and before the weekend is over Tanner's family will be endangered.

Other than a top notch cast in decent form, not much about The Osterman Weekend works. Based on a Robert Ludlum novel, the film was a B-production that gained unexpected, and as it turned out, undeserved cachet when Peckinpah signed on as director, despite his failing health. By then considered a washed-up force, Peckinpah accepted the opportunity to restart his career, which led to many star names signing on to the project.

They need not have bothered. The script is mostly stuck in the early 1970s (the book was published in 1972), when the theme of surveillance was fresh and scary and captured in a spate of films like The Conversation and The Anderson Tapes. Here Peckinpah takes advantage of one more decade of sexual liberation on the screen by injecting plenty of scenes of bedroom frolicking as captured by hidden cameras, but it's all a sideshow that serves to needlessly distract from an already convoluted premise. Merete Van Kamp (Fassett's wife), Meg Foster (Tanner's wife), Helen Shaver (Tremayne's frequently drugged wife) and Cassie Yates (Cardone's wife) take turns appearing in various stages of undress, and it's almost all gratuitous.

But at least the sex and nudity are understandable as exploitation. The spy versus spy script is almost beyond comprehension, a victim of a lazy adaptation by Alan Sharp, perhaps grappling with weak source material. The reasons behind the central assassination of Fassett's wife are glossed over. The actual crimes committed by the Omega threesome are never explained. What proves to be incredibly sloppy approval from Danforth for Fassett to proceed with his high-risk, well-resourced mission turns out to be an inexcusable gaping hole.

When the bullets start flying and the violence escalates, the film offers middle-aged white collar men who are suddenly experts at combat and exceptional survival skills. And Tanner's profession as a hard-hitting, in-your-face journalist and interviewer exposing military cover-ups awkwardly mixes in an altogether dissonant tone that simply does not fit with the rest of the film's theme.

There is enough talent in the cast to ensure that The Osterman Weekend is not a total loss, with John Hurt committed in the most complex role as the emotionally wounded agent Fassett. Rutger Hauer, in the midst of his career purple patch, Craig T. Nelson, despite a bit of a ridiculous moustache, and a stodgy Lancaster are all serviceable.

True to form the project ended with Peckinpah embroiled in a battle with the producers, who wrestled control of the final cut and re-edited the film to try and improve legibility. By the end of 1984 Peckinpah was dead, aged 59. The Osterman Weekend is mess of a final note to end a career on, but perhaps also a most appropriate one.

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Movie Review: The Princess Bride (1987)

A fantasy romance comedy, The Princes Bride rides a wave of seductive cheekiness and delivers for both adults and their kids.

Grandpa (Peter Falk) visits his sick grandson (Fred Savage) and reads to him The Princess Bride. The story is set in medieval times, in a land ruled over by the evil Prince Humperdinck (Chris Sarandon) and his brutal head henchman Count Tyrone Rugen (Christopher Guest). Buttercup (Robin Wright) is a beautiful young woman who loves to ride her horse. She falls deeply in love with her farm boy Westley (Cary Elwes), but they are separated when he goes off to find his fortune. Word arrives that Westley has been captured and likely killed by the Dread Pirate Roberts.

Humperdinck chooses Buttercup to be his bride, but his real intent is to start a war for personal gain. Humperdinck hires master criminal Vizzini (Wallace Shawn) and his gang, consisting of the giant Fezzik (Andre the Giant) and master swordsman Inigo Montoya (Mandy Patinkin), to kidnap Buttercup, kill her and blame the death on a neighbouring kingdom. A mysterious masked man in black gives chase, eventually disposing of Vizzini, rescuing Buttercup and escaping into the scary Fire Swamp. The masked man turns out to be Westley, coming back to reclaim his true love. But Humperdinck will not give up easily, and the lovers will need to overcome captivity and torture to seal their destiny.

Directed by Rob Reiner and breezily written by William Goldman, The Princess Bride is part romance adventure, part swashbuckler, and all clever satire. The package could not be any more perfect, as the film delivers action, thrills, laughs and pure first love for younger audience members, while maintaining a glint-in-the-eye edge of evil wit for their parents.

The overarching theme of true-love-will-conquer-all hovers over the film like an exquisite rainbow, and at the heart of the movie Robin Wright and Cary Elwes deliver honest performances full of heroism underpinned by the conviction that no matter what, they belong together. But The Princess Bride shines because of the diversity of interesting characters and sub-stories, and Goldman excels in creating a world of colourful scoundrels and side kicks. The charismatic Inigo Montoya carries a major revenge sub-plot of his own, and Mandy Patinkin has rarely been better as Inigo forces his way into a co-lead role with Buttercup and Westley. The transformation of Inigo and the giant Fezzik from bad guys to good allies is another strong anchor theme in the film, and the two also provide a steady stream of humour.

And our heroes have not one, not two, but three villains to contend with. Humperdinck may be the head antagonist, and he emerges as a paper tiger, a man equal parts unearned power and distasteful cowardice. More potent is the darkly menacing Count Tyrone, a heartless torturer with a well-earned reputation for ruthlessness. Meanwhile, in a relatively brief but unforgettable role, Wallace Shawn creates in Vizzini an inconceivably irritating criminal, a short man ruling over his gang with smarts until he outsmarts himself in a cerebral confrontation with the masked man in black. Billy Crystal and Carol Kane show up in small and campy comic relief parts.

Reiner respects the setting of his story and does not shy away from some mildly disturbing scenes of torture, and adds blood when necessary to emphasize the outcome of key sword battles. As a counterbalance and to relieve any mounting tension, a large part of the film's charm resides in the frequent returns to the grandson's bedroom, as he starts out full of skepticism but gradually warms up to all the thrills and yes, smoochy romance that the story being read by grandpa has to offer. For the young and old alike, The Princess Bride casts an immaculate magical spell.

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