Change Your Image
JOE-166
Reviews
L'humanité (1999)
Baffling, tedious, haunting
I suspect that I understand very little about this film.
What I like about it is that it reminds me of the films of Robert Bresson and it presents itself as a protracted question, rather than a glib answer, to the question of what it means to be human.
The film explores murder and art as two products of humanity--almost to replace the usual antipodes of moral good and evil. Most of humanity falls in between--neither murderers nor artists--but still it is against these opposites that we (many of us, anyway) have to measure ourselves.
The film makers draw heavily on religious and sexual imagery--perhaps to stand in for spiritual and animal natures. But these images are teasing, and they do not add up to an overarching theme or statement--they merely reiterate the nagging puzzle of human nature and existence.
The film sets itself up--with its languorous takes, odd yet lifelike characters, and shocking imagery--to be reviled, and honestly it's hard to say whether the film really is just pretentious. Maybe it is if you see it that way.
The film is not easy. It is long. It seems long. And much more than most film, it remains in your thoughts and feelings (if you happen to be a thinking, feeling person) for a long time.
Alone among the films I have seen this year, it is the one film that, although while watching it I impatiently wished it would "get on with it," I have subsequently bothered to meditate on and find out what else I could about it.
Nurse Betty (2000)
Bad Medicine, Good Bedside Manner
Renee Zellweger is radiant, but the rest of this movie just does not work. It's like a hamburger-jello-mold salad--interesting idea, but who ever thought it would actually work on film? I like director LaBute's two previous films--they were mercilessly honest and chillingly funny. This film manages only to be merciless and chilling--with jumbo dollops of the cutes. (As high concept, think: the Doris Day-Rock Hudson movie Sam Peckinpah might have made--now reduce your expectations to match the present, mass-produced state of Hollywood.) That actors as talented as Freeman, Kinnear, Eckhart, Vince, and Janney ALMOST make their scenes come alive is a testament to the immensity of their talents to rise above material that just does not cohere. I would have found Freeman's corny, feel-good-about-yourself speech at the end of the movie funny (in a Lynchean way) if it weren't for the nagging suspicion that this unconvincingly tacked-on moral is meant to be accepted seriously.