Just watched this dreck, forcing myself to persist through its blessed end (more blessed had Lewellen been fatally bitten by a rattler as she waltzed away). The good news is that the film's well shot and somewhat evocative of the South, albeit with typical stereotypes firmly in place. Lots of heavy-handed symbolism, too, the most obvious being the snakes.
Also, most of the actors are top-notch, though they've all been better than in this morass, likely thanks to superior scripting and directing in other properties. David Morse is always great and stands out here for maintaining a little integrity within the story's confines; actually, I think he'd make a great "Simple Jack" if the producers of "Tropic Thunder" decide to greenlight that project. Piper Laurie is good, too, though her role's small and one-dimensional. Granoldo Frazier's a very appealing screen presence with great gravitas despite his role being largely a cliché, the so-called 'Magic Negro' visible in a plethora of films running the gamut from "The Shining" to "The Toy" (not a hallmark of BAD films, necessarily -- many such films are very good -- but undeniably a stock cliché so venerable that if you're going to add to the subgenre you'd better make it a good one).
Dakota Fanning is hard to take here. I remember being taken aback by her competence as an actor in earlier films, and NOT just in light of her extreme youth. But in "War Of The Worlds" she was just terminally annoying. To be fair, any little kid and most adults facing invasion by aliens that nasty would probably spend a good deal of the time screaming and collapsing into gibbering heaps of protoplasm, but it wasn't the situational reactions of her character that bothered me so much as a very tangible sense that, somehow, throughout she's just a little too CONSCIOUS that she's acting, and it shows. It seemed, to me, that she's basically screaming with every line and every look "LOOK! I'm an ACTOR! And I'm a REALLY GOOD ONE!!" In this "Hounddog" fiasco I get exactly the same feeling, and it both distracts and undermines the film, or WOULD undermine the film if the film wasn't flawed fatally from the outset. Actually, I thought that young Cody Hanford, as Buddy, was far more convincing and natural in his role and how he played it.
The film is badly directed. The story's pretty stultifying, anyway. There're a few places where things aren't too clear; the one that had me most adrift was when Robin Wright Penn's character has her car towed and leaves. There're some true Whiskey Tango Foxtrot moments, too, like the caretaker having Big Mama Thornton ensconced in his hayloft and apparently being familiar with the process for making snake antivenin from scratch (okay, that one's slightly more plausible).
I'm a big-time Elvis fan and student of the man's career and so, of course, this film's LOADS of fun for me, or would be if I actually ENJOYED running across rampant and unnecessary inaccuracies. This sort of thing is standard in film but in this case you're talking about a man whose OBSCURE songs are familiar only to a few MILLION and the errors in this film were totally avoidable; correcting them wouldn't at all have diminished the integrity of the piece. First, I find it really, really hard to believe that Lewellen, of all people, would blissfully ignore the fact that the volume was turned down on Elvis during his controversial airing of "Hound Dog" on Milton Berle's TV show and even harder to believe that she'd turn her back to the silent screen while performing her imitation (an imitation based on that very broadcast). Okay, cinematic license but, still... Regardless, given that even the richest families in the '50s didn't have VCRs or Tivo, this scene sets the date as June 5, 1956. It's hard to figure what time-traveling magic allows Lewellen to buy a copy of "Peace In The Valley" (that Elvis recorded in January, 1957) and go even further into the future to learn the lyrics to Elvis' 1961 movie song "Can't Help Falling In Love." Just to add to the fun, when the big night of Elvis' show arrives he can be heard singing "Love Me Tender" with the '70s arrangement, another totally unnecessary and conscious goof. Further, and here I realize that artistic license trumps all, Elvis didn't play anywhere in Alabama during 1956 (or 1957); his final concert in the state, until he returned on tour in September of 1970, was in Montgomery on December 3, 1955. The same error's present in "Heart Of Dixie." Still, these anachronisms are not as bad as the execrable "Cadillac Records," a nicely shot and dressed film with great music and great acting that falsely and terribly accuses a real living (well, dead, now) person of outright murder and, admittedly not quite as bad, shows Elvis in 1956 film footage dubbed to a 1969 performance of "My Babe" on TV and shows jail-bound Chuck Berry looking at (if I recall correctly) Army footage of Elvis, proclaiming something about this being the new King, and all of this AFTER the Rolling Stones and Beach Boys entered the narrative, leading me to the obvious conclusion that Elvis Presley, influenced by the Rolling Stones, Beach Boys, and that famed gunslinger Little Walter, didn't begin his professional rise until about 1968 or 1969.
People, when you insert one of the most famous and scrutinized people in HISTORY into your films, be ready for some nitpicking. Do it well and we'll forgive you. Do it badly, or in a bad film (like this one), and we'll call you on it.
In the end, the only part of this film worth a damn was in the trailer: Elvis (impersonator Ryan Pelton, who manages a good likeness) blowing the kiss to Lewellen. That was pretty cool.
Also, most of the actors are top-notch, though they've all been better than in this morass, likely thanks to superior scripting and directing in other properties. David Morse is always great and stands out here for maintaining a little integrity within the story's confines; actually, I think he'd make a great "Simple Jack" if the producers of "Tropic Thunder" decide to greenlight that project. Piper Laurie is good, too, though her role's small and one-dimensional. Granoldo Frazier's a very appealing screen presence with great gravitas despite his role being largely a cliché, the so-called 'Magic Negro' visible in a plethora of films running the gamut from "The Shining" to "The Toy" (not a hallmark of BAD films, necessarily -- many such films are very good -- but undeniably a stock cliché so venerable that if you're going to add to the subgenre you'd better make it a good one).
Dakota Fanning is hard to take here. I remember being taken aback by her competence as an actor in earlier films, and NOT just in light of her extreme youth. But in "War Of The Worlds" she was just terminally annoying. To be fair, any little kid and most adults facing invasion by aliens that nasty would probably spend a good deal of the time screaming and collapsing into gibbering heaps of protoplasm, but it wasn't the situational reactions of her character that bothered me so much as a very tangible sense that, somehow, throughout she's just a little too CONSCIOUS that she's acting, and it shows. It seemed, to me, that she's basically screaming with every line and every look "LOOK! I'm an ACTOR! And I'm a REALLY GOOD ONE!!" In this "Hounddog" fiasco I get exactly the same feeling, and it both distracts and undermines the film, or WOULD undermine the film if the film wasn't flawed fatally from the outset. Actually, I thought that young Cody Hanford, as Buddy, was far more convincing and natural in his role and how he played it.
The film is badly directed. The story's pretty stultifying, anyway. There're a few places where things aren't too clear; the one that had me most adrift was when Robin Wright Penn's character has her car towed and leaves. There're some true Whiskey Tango Foxtrot moments, too, like the caretaker having Big Mama Thornton ensconced in his hayloft and apparently being familiar with the process for making snake antivenin from scratch (okay, that one's slightly more plausible).
I'm a big-time Elvis fan and student of the man's career and so, of course, this film's LOADS of fun for me, or would be if I actually ENJOYED running across rampant and unnecessary inaccuracies. This sort of thing is standard in film but in this case you're talking about a man whose OBSCURE songs are familiar only to a few MILLION and the errors in this film were totally avoidable; correcting them wouldn't at all have diminished the integrity of the piece. First, I find it really, really hard to believe that Lewellen, of all people, would blissfully ignore the fact that the volume was turned down on Elvis during his controversial airing of "Hound Dog" on Milton Berle's TV show and even harder to believe that she'd turn her back to the silent screen while performing her imitation (an imitation based on that very broadcast). Okay, cinematic license but, still... Regardless, given that even the richest families in the '50s didn't have VCRs or Tivo, this scene sets the date as June 5, 1956. It's hard to figure what time-traveling magic allows Lewellen to buy a copy of "Peace In The Valley" (that Elvis recorded in January, 1957) and go even further into the future to learn the lyrics to Elvis' 1961 movie song "Can't Help Falling In Love." Just to add to the fun, when the big night of Elvis' show arrives he can be heard singing "Love Me Tender" with the '70s arrangement, another totally unnecessary and conscious goof. Further, and here I realize that artistic license trumps all, Elvis didn't play anywhere in Alabama during 1956 (or 1957); his final concert in the state, until he returned on tour in September of 1970, was in Montgomery on December 3, 1955. The same error's present in "Heart Of Dixie." Still, these anachronisms are not as bad as the execrable "Cadillac Records," a nicely shot and dressed film with great music and great acting that falsely and terribly accuses a real living (well, dead, now) person of outright murder and, admittedly not quite as bad, shows Elvis in 1956 film footage dubbed to a 1969 performance of "My Babe" on TV and shows jail-bound Chuck Berry looking at (if I recall correctly) Army footage of Elvis, proclaiming something about this being the new King, and all of this AFTER the Rolling Stones and Beach Boys entered the narrative, leading me to the obvious conclusion that Elvis Presley, influenced by the Rolling Stones, Beach Boys, and that famed gunslinger Little Walter, didn't begin his professional rise until about 1968 or 1969.
People, when you insert one of the most famous and scrutinized people in HISTORY into your films, be ready for some nitpicking. Do it well and we'll forgive you. Do it badly, or in a bad film (like this one), and we'll call you on it.
In the end, the only part of this film worth a damn was in the trailer: Elvis (impersonator Ryan Pelton, who manages a good likeness) blowing the kiss to Lewellen. That was pretty cool.