Movie Review: Rudy (1993)

Genre: Biographical Sports Drama  

Director: David Anspaugh  

Starring: Sean Astin, Ned Beatty, Jon Favreau, Charles S. Dutton, Lili Taylor  

Running Time: 116 minutes  

Synopsis: It's the 1960s, and young Rudy Ruettiger is growing up in a Midwest blue collar family. His father Daniel (Ned Beatty) works at the steel mill, but Rudy dreams of entering the University of Notre Dame and playing on its famed football team. After high school, and despite receiving no family support and lacking university-level grades, Rudy (Sean Astin) strikes out on his own and gains entry to Holy Cross College. He befriends Notre Dame's head groundkeeper Fortune (Charles S. Dutton), and perseveres in pursuit of his dream.

What Works Well: Based on actual events, this is a classic sports-and-academia underdog story. Writer Angelo Pizzo charts Rudy's determination to rise above family expectations and play college football, despite lackluster academic performance and physical attributes limited to speedy resilience. The standard lessons of pursuing the dream, bouncing back up after every setback (here demonstrated literally as Rudy becomes a punching bag for the larger players on the practice roster), and exceeding family expectations, are delivered with appropriate polish. Sean Astin brings genial likeability to the central role. 

What Does Not Work As Well: The music soars frequently and loudly to underline the many this-is-important moments. Charles S. Dutton (in a composite role rather obviously named Fortune) adds weary wisdom, but all the other secondary characters (including Jon Favreau in a clumsy turn as a college classmate) are one dimensional. A feeling lingers that this is a minor story over-inflated to Hollywood proportions.

Key Quote:

Fortune (to Rudy): In this life, you don't have to prove nothin' to nobody but yourself.

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Movie Review: The Last American Hero (1973)

Also Known As: Hard Driver

Genre: Biographical Motor Racing Drama

Director: Lamont Johnson

Starring: Jeff Bridges, Valerie Perrine, Art Lund, Gary Busey, Geraldine Fitzgerald, Ned Beatty, William Smith, Ed Lauter

Running Time: 95 minutes

Synopsis: In the southern United States, "Junior" Jackson (Jeff Bridges) drives hard and fast on backcountry roads, evading police while transporting whiskey illegally distilled by his father Elroy (Art Lund). When Elroy is yet again imprisoned, Junior has to support his mother (Geraldine Fitzgerald) and brother (Gary Busey). He enters his first demolition derby at the track run by Hackel (Ned Beatty), then graduates to NASCAR racing. Junior tangles with ruthless team owner Burton Colt (Ed Lauter) and fierce competitor Kingman (William Smith), and learns about big league romance with Marge (Valerie Perrine).

What Works Well: Based on the early racing experiences of NASCAR star Junior Johnson, director Lamont Johnson (no relation) soulfully evokes the American dream, where fame and fortune are within reach but only when talent finds a calling. Cinematographer George Silano enjoys the expanse of forgotten country roads littered with men itching for a chase or a fight, and later conveys motor racing thrills with plenty of dusty verve but never at the expense of the people behind the wheels. Jim Croce's I Got A Name perfectly complements the quest for purpose, while Jeff Bridges navigates Junior's growth with a balanced mix of arrogance, confidence, and when necessary, the humility to learn as fast as he drives.

What Does Not Work As Well: Other than Junior, all the other characters are confined to pre-defined notes. A longer running time would have allowed expanded roles for the many other grizzled veteran characters and deeper involvement from Junior's parents (Art Lund elevates every scene he is in, but Geraldine Fitzgerald is largely wasted). 

Conclusion: The satisfying roar of engines propels a classic rise-of-the-underdog story.



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Movie Review: Shooter (2007)

A high-energy action thriller, Shooter is full of ridiculous plot holes but nevertheless delivers slick entertainment.

On an unsanctioned mission in Ethiopia, expert sniper Gunnery Sergeant Bob Lee Swagger (Mark Wahlberg) provides cover for a covert US forces mission. The assignment ends in disarray and Swagger's spotter Donnie is killed. Disillusioned, Swagger leaves the military and goes into seclusion in rural Wyoming. Three years later, Colonel Isaac Johnson (Danny Glover) manages to recruit Swagger for a special assignment to counter a threat to assassinate the President.

But Swagger was really lured in to be the patsy, and on the day of the would-be assassination in Philadelphia he is framed, shot, and barely escapes with his life. A nationwide manhunt is launched. Rookie FBI Special Agent Nick Memphis (Michael Peña) is one of the few to suspect Swagger was framed. Meanwhile, Swagger seeks refuge with Donnie's widow Sarah (Kate Mara), and starts to uncover a conspiracy deep within the government centred on Senator Meachum (Ned Beatty).

Directed by Antoine Fuqua, Shooter delivers enough quality to allow mindless enjoyment of an almost laughable story. A stellar cast, a flashy visual style, and a stoic, indestructible and patriotic hero brought to life by Mark Wahlberg all help. The action scenes are sustained and generally coherent, and the bad guys lining up against Swagger are worthy: treacherous, powerful and deeply entrenched in modern-day pragmatic geopolitical meddling. The sniper jargon also sounds legitimate to the untrained ear.

Which is all good, because on the negative side Swagger had to be a particular kind of momentarily stupid not to notice the jaws of a Kennedyesque assassination conspiracy plot snapping tight around his ankles. And once he goes on the run, the film becomes a blur of overlapping groan-inducing developments, characters traveling around the country with dizzying speed and no respect for a national manhunt. When a late climax arrives and Swagger has to explain his actions to a room full of men-in-suits, the lack of any due process or discipline around the proceedings is chuckle worthy.

But of course Swagger gets the upper hand in every skirmish (and the skirmishes arrive at the rate of one every few minutes), and his cool-under-pressure, one-step-ahead-of-the-bad-guys persona is comfortingly familiar. Most of the dialogue is basic, macho-infused actionspeak, and rarely gets in the way.

Fuqua's expertise is constructing few-against-many and mostly silent action set-pieces, and Shooter is at its best when Swagger infiltrates his enemies' hideouts and strongholds and dishes out the special brand of revenge reserved for action heroes seeking personal justice. American evildoers can plot the destruction of entire third world villages and suffer no consequences, but beware landing on the wrong side of one brooding sharpshooter.

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Movie Review: Rampart (2011)

A character drama, Rampart goes for oodles of style but is fundamentally lacking in meaningful substance.

It's 1999 in Los Angeles, and the police department is rocked by the corruption scandal named after the tough Rampart division. Veteran Officer Dave Brown (Woody Harrelson) carries a dirty reputation and emotional scars from the Vietnam War, patrolling the streets with an eye for brutality.  Brown is barely on speaking terms with his two ex-wives (who are also sisters) Barbara and Catherine (Cynthia Nixon and Anne Heche). He is also detached from the lives of his two daughters, brooding teenager Helen (Brie Larson) and the younger Sarah.

Brown roughs up a detainee and is caught on camera bludgeoning another man. He is hauled in front of disciplinary committees while Assistant District Attorney Joan Confrey (Sigourney Weaver) urges him to retire. Brown starts an affair with lawyer Linda (Robin Wright), although he is suspicious of her motives. Meanwhile retired cop Hartshorn (Ned Beatty) is sympathetic and warns Brown that he is being used as a distraction.

Directed by Oren Moverman who also co-wrote the script with James Ellroy, Rampart is caught in no-man's land. With a barely-there story, an unexplained context and wafer-thin characterizations, the film spends most of its time in close-up, observing Brown's mannerisms as he cruises the streets and lights up cigarettes.

While Woody Harrelson buys fully into the role, he has precious little to work with. Officer Brown is certainly not likable and neither is he magnetic or interesting. He is simply a disturbed thug, doing just enough to ensure the system will struggle to fire him. The post Vietnam War trauma excuse floats in and out of the film in a couple of references, and otherwise Brown is left exposed on-screen, unable to generate any reason why anyone would care about him.

Elsewhere plenty of people populate Dave Brown's universe, with a strong cast ready to bring them to life, and they are all shortchanged. Two ex-wives who are sisters may be an interesting twist, but not when they are both ill-defined. A dark affair with a seemingly troubled slick lawyer slumming it in Brown's universe offers intriguing opportunities, but Moverman and Ellroy do not appear to know what to do with the subplot.

Ned Beatty's Hartshorn shows up intermittently hinting at dirty conspiracies, and these are perhaps better explained in other movies. Ben Foster as a wheelchair-bound but rather ghostly presence shares some sit-still-and-stare moments with Harrelson, and Ice Cube pops up late as an Internal Affairs officer. Steve Buscemi and Jon Bernthal appear in brief scenes.

Rampart vaguely hints at attempts to echo the street-level grittiness of Training Day but in the end falls well short. This cop drama is absent both the compelling cop and the essential drama.

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Movie Review: Charlie Wilson's War (2007)

Based on real events, Charlie Wilson's War is the remarkable story of one US Congressman adopting the cause of the Afghanistan resistance during the Soviet occupation, ultimately hastening the end of the Cold War.

Texas Congressman Charlie Wilson (Tom Hanks) is known more for parties than policies, but he does sit on the powerful defence appropriations committee. Joanne Herring (Julia Roberts) is one of the richest women in Texas, and sees the fight against communism as a Christian duty. Through a smooth combination of seduction and badgering she convinces Wilson to pay attention to the plight of the mujahideen who have taken up arms against the Soviets after the 1979 invasion and occupation. She arranges a trip to the region, and Wilson meets the Pakistani president and experiences the plight of the Afghan refugees and their commitment to fight.

Back in the US Wilson uses his influence to gradually increase the funding allocated to the mujahideen, and then teams up with gruff CIA agent Gust Avrakotos (Philip Seymour Hoffman) to convince Israel, Egypt and Saudi Arabia to help in the fight by channeling better weaponry to the rebels. The turning point comes when Stinger missiles are secured, finally giving the mujahideen a weapon to counter the fearsome Soviet aerial threat. But Wilson has troubles of his own, as his partying habits make him the target of a larger investigation into congressional misconduct just as the war is heating up.

In exactly 100 minutes, director Mike Nichols packages the story of the last Cold War battle. Charlie Wilson's War is the truth-is-stranger-than-fiction adventure of an unknown politician who engineered a war halfway around the globe and brought the Soviet empire to its knees. Based on the George Crile book, the film is frequently funny, always sharp and filled with larger than life characters who happen to be real.

With a peppy style reflecting Wilson's personality, Nichols wastes no time in introducing the politicians and power elites who make deals in the hallways and between the bedsheets. Seduction, persuasion, cajoling and power mix easily in Washington DC and various Middle East capitals as strange bedfellows are created, the principle of "the enemy of my enemy is my friend" uniting unlikely allies to take the fight to the Soviet war machine. Wilson's affable style makes it all happen, as he prods financiers, agents and politicians towards the common goal. By the end of the 1980s the mujahideen are transformed from a ragtag militia to a fighting force capable of routinely destroying the best tanks and helicopter gunships that the Soviets could throw into the battlefield.

The arming and empowering of the Afghan fighters coupled with the US turning its back on the region once the Soviets were defeated sowed the seeds for a new era of terrorism that erupted a decade later. The film does not shy away from the unintended but predictable consequences, as one war begats another.

Charlie Wilson may be one of Tom Hanks' last great roles. He captures a happy Congressman enjoying life and adopting a cause once he experiences the pain of the refugees, but always maintaining a light attitude towards his mission. Hanks glides through the film bringing to life Wilson's astounding deal making skills and calmness under pressure. Some of the film's best moments occur in the chaos of Wilson's office, as he coolly juggles the erupting corruption scandal while holding an interrupted meeting with Gust, while the bevy of beautiful assistants scamper in and out of the office.

And Philip Seymour Hoffman is unforgettable as the straight talking and never smiling CIA agent with the foulest of mouths, looking for the next global cause to adopt and finding in Wilson a partner in surreptitious warmongering and secret deal making. Amy Adams as Wilson's administrative assistant and Ned Beatty as the Chair of the defence appropriations committee round out the main cast members.

Charlie Wilson's War celebrates the craziness of making war by proxy, and the man who recognized the new front line, took on communism, and won.

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Movie Review: The Killer Inside Me (2010)

A disturbing journey into the mind of an abject sociopath, The Killer Inside Me features jolts of cruel violence, but suffers from bland narration and shallow characters.

It's 1952 in a small rural town in Texas. Deputy Sheriff Lou Ford (Casey Affleck) appears to be a normal and dependable part of the town's fabric. When Sheriff Bob Maples (Tom Bower) assigns Lou to drive prostitute Joyce Lakeland (Jessica Alba) out of town, Lou instead beats her up, which she enjoys. They commence an intense physical relationship, despite Lou being involved with long-time girlfriend Amy (Kate Hudson).

Lou is actually a cold blooded psychotic killer, and he blames the rich Conway family for the long-ago murder of his adopted brother. When Lou learns that Elmer Conway (Jay R. Ferguson) is one of Joyce's regular customers, he plans a revenge plot to inflict pain on Elmer and agony on his father Chester (Ned Beatty), the town's construction magnate. Lou's revenge involves brutal murders arranged to incriminate others followed by pathological lying, prompting an investigation by County District Attorney Howard Hendricks (Simon Baker). Lou may need to kill again to cover his tracks and stay ahead of the law.

Directed by Michael Winterbottom as an adaptation of the 1952 Jim Thompson book, The Killer Inside Me is not for the squeamish. The film includes two shocking scenes of barbarous violence, as Lou unleashes his inner demon in a fury of killer blows. The victims are pummeled into grotesque disfigurement, and Winterbottom allows his cameras to linger, prolonging the scenes to emphasize Lou’s soulless brutality and the pathetic helplessness of his victims.

Lou is responsible for many deaths, but the two victims of his most shocking acts are both women. This elevates the visual horror, and is partially explained by the root causes of Lou’s derangement as the film reveals fragments of childhood that helped to twist his brain into a malfunctioning mess.

But the film falters when it attempts to provide substantive depth. Outside of Lou’s actions, the narrative, context and characterizations are distinctly lacking. Winterbottom regularly fails to properly introduce or develop essential people and plot elements, resulting in a detached and blurry experience. Elmer’s relationship with Joyce; Lou’s suddenly urgent need to impart revenge on the Conways; the barely explained appearance of District Attorney Hendricks; and the even more puzzling late arrival of lawyer Billy Boy Walker (possibly a figment of Lou’s imagination) are all barely sketched in. And the morsels from Lou’s childhood are too abstract to be helpful.

And finally, Lou’s narration, delivered by Affleck in a high pitched, nasally mumbled monotone, may be appropriate for the sound inside a killer’s head, but is fingernails-on-chalkboard aggravating as a film experience.

The performances are no more than average, Affleck unable to do much with a character who has no human feelings, while the other actors struggle with roles defined through the truncated thoughts of a madman. Winterbottom does manage to create a sun-drenched laid-back smoke-filled small-town 1950s ambiance, the kind of place where nothing exciting ever happens until a prostitute sets up shop, a psychopath goes to work and the bodies start piling up.

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Movie Review: Prelude To A Kiss (1992)

A romantic drama with fantastical elements, Prelude To A Kiss cleverly delves into intriguing topics but ultimately falls short of its mystical targets.

In Chicago, publishing house manager Peter Hoskins (Alec Baldwin) meets and falls in love with free-spirited bartender Rita Boyle (Meg Ryan). Peter experienced a rough childhood but maintains a positive outlook on life. By contrast Rita had a loving upbringing but is an abject pessimist despite a bubbly personality. Although she finds happiness with Peter, Rita never wants to have children because the world is an ugly place. Peter meets Rita's parents Dr. and Mrs. Boyle (Ned Beatty and Patty Duke), and soon thereafter Peter and Rita get married.

At the wedding ceremony, an uninvited old man called Julius (Sydney Walker) asks Rita for a kiss. She obliges, and he kisses her deeply. As the newlyweds start their honeymoon in Jamaica, Peter notices his bride is suddenly behaving very strangely. Indeed, she appears to be a completely different person than the woman he fell in love with. Upon returning to Chicago, the marriage is already in trouble, and Peter connects with Julius to try and understand what has happened to his Rita.

Craig Lucas adapted his own play to the screen, and the film version succeeds in liberating the story out of stage confines. Directed by Norman René, Prelude To A Kiss is a refreshingly different romance, introducing two likeable leads and using their genuine love to ask some big questions. Peter is challenged to face up to what it means to be in a devoted lifelong marriage, and his commitment to the vows stated so easily during the ceremony is tested early.  The bond between physical presence and the essence of the human soul becomes a central question for Peter to grapple with and resolve.

These are not easy themes to delve into, and Prelude To A Kiss inevitably gets in too deep, despite the best of intentions. The film surrenders to fantasy elements that are an essential if metaphorical gateway to core ideas, and in doing so detaches itself too far from reality to achieve any emotional resonance. The film becomes an interesting vehicle to spark conversation, but without itself leaving any form of lasting impression.

The performances from Baldwin and Ryan are appealing, and they generate an amiable chemistry. Baldwin is sincere and manages to hold the centre of the film together as realism takes a back seat to an alternative and supernatural world. Ryan is her typical slightly over-bubbly self, the dream girlfriend with a potentially tiresome habit of over emoting. Despite her excessive bright-eyed expressions, the film does suffer when Ryan is absent for a prolonged segment in the second half.

Stage actor Sydney Walker delivers a moving performance as the old man seeking an unconventional new lease on life, and his scenes with Baldwin critically find the right tone, preventing the film from descending into tripe. Stanley Tucci and Kathy Bates appear in smallish roles.

Prelude To A Kiss thoughtfully explores the magic of romance, without necessarily creating magically romantic moments.

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The Movies Of Ned Beatty

All movies starring Ned Beatty and reviewed on the Ace Black Movie Blog are linked below:

Deliverance (1972)

The Life And Times Of Judge Roy Bean (1972)

The Last American Hero (1973)

All The President's Men (1976)

Network (1976)

Silver Streak (1976)

1941 (1979)

Hopscotch (1980)

The Fourth Protocol (1987)

Switching Channels (1988)

Physical Evidence (1989)

Prelude To A Kiss (1992)

Rudy (1993)

Shooter (2007)

Charlie Wilson's War (2007)

The Killer Inside Me (2010)

Toy Story 3 (2010, voice only)

Rampart (2011)

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The Movie Star Index is here.

Movie Review: Switching Channels (1988)

A lame remake of The Front Page and His Girl Friday, Switching Channels is dull, uninspired, and singularly lacking in wit and chemistry.

Christy Colleran (Kathleen Turner) is the star anchor at the Chicago-based Satellite News Network, where her ex-husband John "Sully" Sullivan (Burt Reynolds) is the station director. When an overworked Christy finally reaches the point of exhaustion, she is packed off on a forced vacation, where she meets and falls in love with smooth businessman Blaine Bingham (Christopher Reeve). Christy returns to Chicago on a high, announcing that she is quitting the news business and marrying Blaine.

Sully does not want to lose his star on-air talent, and he still harbours hopes of winning back Christy. He proceeds to conjure up every possible obstacle to place in the way of Blaine, while tempting Christy back to her career by getting her to interview Ike Roscoe (Henry Gibson), a death-row inmate about to be executed for killing a drug-dealing cop, in the hopes that the exposure will force the Governor to issue a pardon. Meanwhile, Attorney General  Roy Ridnitz (Ned Beatty) is himself running for Governor, and wants to make sure that Roscoe fries to further his own tough-on-crime credentials.

The fourth big screen version of the Broadway comedy The Front Page by Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur, Switching Channels is as unnecessary as it is awful. With pedestrian direction by Ted Kotcheff and a juvenile Jonathan Reynolds script, the film attempts to modernize the premise to the world of television, but has a dreadful time trying to find laughs, and fails miserably at every opportunity.

Burt Reynolds' performance is simply annoying, while Kathleen Turner is off the mark, seemingly over-acting in desperation to appear either witty or ditzy, but instead coming across as fatally bland. Reynolds and Turner together never threaten to display any sign of a spark, and indeed are reported to have clashed throughout filming. Christopher Reeve suffers the most, his Blaine Bingham a phantom personality, stood up as an easy cardboard target for Sully's darts.

The film ends with that time-trampled old favourite from the films of yesteryear, herds of men running in groups in and out of rooms and across hallways, lowest common denominator comedy that pre-teens may find funny, but really just serving as an embarrassing confirmation that some comic elements are best left in their own era.

Switching Channels clumsily fumbles with the dials, but only manages to find aggravating static.

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Movie Review: Physical Evidence (1989)

A limp courtroom drama with wooden performances and a forgettable story, Physical Evidence lands with an excruciatingly dull thud.

Suspended and quick-tempered police detective Joe Paris (Burt Reynolds) wakes up one morning with a hangover and no recollection of what happened the previous night. When evidence is found in his apartment linking him to the grim murder of hated nightclub owner and mobster Jake Farley, Paris is designated as the prime suspect. Inexperienced public defendant Jenny Hudson (Theresa Russell) is assigned to the case. Grizzled prosecutor James Nicks (Ned Beatty) offers a plea bargain, but Hudson is determined to prove herself by exonerating her client.

As Paris and Hudson try to uncover what happened on the night of the murder, they develop some attraction, much to the chagrin of Hudson's rich fiancé Kyle (Ted McGinley). Meanwhile, the married Deborah Quinn (Kay Lenz) comes forward to offer her lover Paris an alibi, despite threats from her rich and powerful husband. Matt Farley (Tom O'Brien), the victim's son, emerges as another possible suspect, since he inherited his father's evil empire, and there is no shortage of former convicts who harbour a grudge against Paris for putting them behind bars.

Originally intended as a sequel of sorts to Jagged Edge (1985), everyone associated with that project wisely bailed out, leaving Physical Evidence to wallow in its strictly derivative awfulness. The script, the directing and the performances are all just a tiny notch above TV movie tripe. There is simply nothing here that has not already been done repeatedly in other movies.

The story leaves gaping holes at every turn, with underdeveloped and unconvincing characters hissing at each other in forced conniptions, doing their best to act as idiotically as possible while trying to imitate better performances from much better movies. Joe Paris' most convenient memory loss opens the door for all sort of half-baked theories to be dragged from the oven moist with drooping ingredients trying to explain who did what to whom. It never matters, since Paris is an unsympathetic character and Jenny Hudson is more likable but much more annoying.

Theresa Russell delivers her lines in a catatonic monotone that suggests either a locked jaw or a mouthful of cotton, and her contrived pampered-girl-looking-to-do-good character hardly helps. For all her good intentions, Jenny Hudson simply reacts to the initiative of others and does absolutely nothing to help Joe Paris prove his innocence. A rather ridiculous hairdo does not help.

Burt Reynolds is marginally better, but he also walks through the movie with a been-there, done-that resignation, metronomically alternating anger, temper and frustration on a carousel of stock emotions.

It is left to Ned Beatty and Kay Lenz, ironically the two secondary characters who should have been the most predictable, to inject some much needed spice to the proceedings. Both bring welcome relish to their roles, with Lenz overcoming a wedged-in and unconvincing distraction about Deborah carrying on an illicit affair with Paris.

Author and wannabe director Michael Crichton would not direct another movie after this one. He may have had the ambition, but the evidence was against him.

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Movie Review: 1941 (1979)

An attempted war comedy, 1941 is a debacle of almost unimaginable proportions. Steven Spielberg momentarily loses his touch and presides over an obnoxious bomb.

It's December 1941, one week after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. In Los Angeles, civilians and the military are both on the edge of disorganized hysteria, anticipating an attack on the west coast. Indeed, a Japanese submarine is prowling the waters off California, and sub commander Akiro Mitamura (Toshiro Mifune) wants to make a name for himself by bombing Hollywood.

The US military men stationed in the area include Major General Stilwell (Robert Stack), more interested in watching Dumbo than leading his men; the slightly crazed Captain "Wild" Bill Kelso (John Belushi), randomly flying his fighter plane over California seeking phantom enemies; tank commander Sergeant Frank Tree (Dan Aykroyd), who knows how to inspire with words but not with actions; Captain Loomis Birkhead (Tim Matheson) who desperately wants to get Stilwell's assistant Donna (Nancy Allen) into an airplane to get her motor running; and the hot head Corporal Chuck Sitarski (Treat Williams), who is desperately vying with dance-loving waiter Wally Stephens (Bobby Di Cicco) for the attention of hostess Betty Douglas (Dianne Kay).

Spielberg's first and perhaps most serious major flop, 1941 is a thunderous failure, a remarkable calamity considering the talent on both sides of the camera and a budget of $32 million. There really is no plot to speak of. The screenplay by Robert Zemeckis and Bob Gale fails miserably to create any characters or events worth even remotely caring about. With astounding speed the film degenerates into an excuse for excess in search of broad slapstick-style jokes, with most of the attempted humour falling embarrassingly flat. The whole exercise takes on the unmistakable air of an unmitigated disaster.

The opening scene, a funny take on Spielberg's Jaws, deserves recognition as the only idea to hit the target in the entire two hour running length. Otherwise, long minutes that feel like hours pass by with no meaningful laughs, as an enormous amount of destruction is thrown at the screen to no effect. With a cast that also includes John Candy, Warren Oates, Slim Pickens, Ned Beatty, Lorraine Gary, Murray Hamilton, Christopher Lee and Lionel Stander, 1941 achieves quantity over quality in all respects. Characters scream, over-act, fight, punch, riot, brawl, shoot, and frantically wave their arms in the air, all to no avail. The events on the screen bear no resemblance to rational film making, and a weird disconnect settles over the film. Someone actually thought that all this would be funny. Instead, it's just humiliating for all involved.

1941 features an orgy of wanton destruction, Spielberg mistaking a child's tendency to spectacularly annihilate stuff with good farce. Never has so much on-screen hardware been so spectacularly destroyed to so little effect.

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Movie Review: Network (1976)

A tragi-comic condemnation of the transformation of television news into entertainment, Network is scathing satire at its finest, a talkfest with a lot to say delivered by a cast of performers in peak form.

Veteran news anchor Howard Beale (Peter Finch) of the fictitious UBS network is two weeks away from retirement. Depressed, he has an enraged on-camera meltdown and threatens to kill himself live on the air the following week.

His boss and friend Max Schumacher (William Holden), the head of network news, is horrified, as is Frank Hackett (Robert Duvall), the chief representative of CCA, the bottom-line obsessed conglomerate that owns UBS.  Hackett demands that heads should roll, but Diana Christensen (Faye Dunaway), head of programming, spots an opportunity: Beale can be transformed to an angry modern day messiah, the news broadcast re-imagined as an entertainment spectacle with Beale the centrepiece railing nightly against all the world's injustices.

Walking a fine line between theatrical and genuine madness, Beale delivers another on-air rant with the signature line I'm as mad as hell and I'm not going to take this anymore!, galvanizing the viewing public and delivering a huge ratings boost to his new show. Meanwhile, Christensen starts a romantic entanglement with Schumacher, threatening his marriage to wife Louise (Beatrice Straight).

Diane also keeps pushing UBS towards new boundaries of entertainment, insisting on broadcasting a show that celebrates the real-world criminal activities of a far-left group. With Arthur Jensen (Ned Beatty), the head of CCA, taking a personal interest in Beale's show, events on the air and behind the scenes hurtle out of control, with lives and careers careening towards an unmanageable wreck.

Directed by Sidney Lumet and written by Paddy Chayefsky, Network is a tour de force of smart commentary about the influence of commercialism on television. Built around a series of startling monologues seamlessly intertwined within the story arc of television's descent to the lowest common denominator, Network is a spellbinding experience.

Chayefsky won the Academy Award for original screenplay, and he pinpoints the corporate influence on television as an irresistible force in the wrong direction, the investment of huge dollars demanding a return and driving decisions towards satisfying the basest instincts.

With a new generation of executives exemplified by Faye Dunaway's Diana Christensen much more interested in television news as a money-making show rather than an avenue for the distribution of essential  information, the old school are brushed aside or nonchalantly abused.

Christensen is a most intriguing character, Dunaway winning the Best Actress Academy Award for portraying a charming, driven, passionate, smart, persuasive, impatient and extremely lonely woman. She recognizes her strengths and weaknesses, and matter of factly states that her need to satisfy emotional and physical urges has more in common with men than women. Her relationship with Schumacher is a desperate attempt to bridge generations, both finding in each other everything that they lack and all that they cannot tolerate.

Finch also won the Best Actor Academy Award (posthumously) for the much more showy role of Howard Beale, a man at the centre of the drama but only in the sense of wishing to go out with a bang and being mercilessly used by everyone around him. Schumacher is his only friend, and yet even Max's acquiescence to Howard's requests for continued air-time contribute to Beale's mounting insanity. Certainly Schumacher's liaison with Diana represents sleeping with the ideological enemy.

Robert Duvall and Ned Beatty are extraordinary representations of the new corporate voice dominating programming decisions through ambitious talent like Christensen, and both get to deliver wall-shaking speeches confirming a new world order in which the almighty pursuit of money and ratings trumps all, although when Beatty's Arthur Jensen gets involved, even profit takes a back seat to the on-air glamorizing of the corporate agenda.


The depth of talent and the quality of performances extracted by Lumet extended to Beatrice Straight, who famously won the Best Supporting Actress Academy Award for the briefest of roles. During her limited screen time she delivers a sharply emotional monologue as Louise Schumacher attempts to decide if her marriage is worth saving.

Network predicted television's demise to a freak-show dominated race to ratings, a condition that continues to paralyse most of the medium. Chayefsky took television's demise to its extreme, forecasting exclamation marks of exploitation and violence that would only come to fruition a couple of generations later.  Network not only shone the spotlight on television's current and future failures, but also brilliantly exposed the human predilection to descend into the soul nullifying pursuit of the wrong objective.

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