You don’t hear the term ‘bodice ripper” very often anymore. By definition it refers to a historical romance that emphasizes the sexual excitement of seduction and ‘ravishment,’ usually in intriguing settings and populated by royalty, pirates, highwaymen and wenches. In book form they often feature Fabio on the cover, in a new movie set in the court of Henry VIII Scarlett Johansson and Natalie Portman both have their bodices ripped by Eric Bana as the womanizing king.
Based on a historical novel written by British author Philippa Gregory The Other Boleyn Girl is a melodrama centered around the life of little known 16th-century aristocrat, Mary Boleyn (Johansson), who was the sister of Queen Anne Boleyn (Portman) and one-time mistress of King Henry VIII of England.
At the beginning of the film the Boleyn family is minor aristocracy with a desire to better their station in life by marrying off their two beautiful daughters, Mary and Anne, to wealthy men. When a scheming uncle cooks up a plan for Anne to seduce the King of England, become his mistress and hopefully provide him with a much needed male heir the simple family is introduced to the Machiavellian workings of the Royal Court. Things take an unexpected turn when Mary, an uncomplicated soul with a good heart, is actually the first to catch the King’s eye. Soon, however, his attentions turn to her devious older sister Anne.
In order to woo Anne he must first dispose of his wife, Queen Katherine. This split causes a rift with the Pope and directly leads to the creation of the Church of England. When Anne is unable to give birth to a son she finds herself alienated from the King and later the subject of scandalous charges that lead to her execution.
While watching The Other Boleyn Girl I couldn’t help but think what a different movie this would have been had been made by MGM sixty years ago. Certainly the bodice ripping aspects would have been toned down in favor of the kind of smoldering, suppressed sexuality that dominated mid-Century Hollywood films, but specifically I was thinking about the casting.
In the 40s or 50s the cast would likely have included Bette Davis as the devious Jane and, maybe Celeste Holm as Mary, the kind hearted sister. Those actors would have the heft needed to bring a sense of drama to the proceedings. To paraphrase another old time Silver Screen actress, “They had faces back then.”
As it is Portman and Johansson, both good actors, simply don’t have the gravitas needed to convincingly portray the conniving inner workings of the court. Portman’s performance as Anne would be better suited to a teen drama set in high school than palace life in Tudor England.
Other than the somewhat fatal casting flaw The Other Boleyn Girl has, at least, production value to spare. Period details are nicely presented with costume design by Sandy Powell who also worked on Shakespeare in Love and impressive locations such as Penshurst Place, Knole Park, Dover Castle in Kent, the City of Bath, and Bude in Cornwall.
Historians should be warned that The Other Boleyn Girl plays fast and loose with the facts—Mary was actually the older sister, rumored to be promiscuous and not the blushing flower she is portrayed as in the movie—and really amps up the melodrama. There are soap operas that don’t have this much intrigue. It’s interesting to learn about the brutal Royal court, a gossipy and cruel place so vicious the other ladies-in-waiting make the London tabloid press look like Miss Manners.
The Other Boleyn Girl plays like a mix of Masterpiece Theatre and Clueless, an awkward blend of historical drama and modern storytelling that skates over important details—was the love of Anne the only reason to break from Rome and form a new church?—while spending too much time on the more salacious aspects of the whole sordid tale.
The Time Traveler’s Wife is part of a rare genre: romantic science fiction. But just because one of the characters flits through time and space doesn’t mean this is like an episode of Star Trek. Nope. The Time Traveler’s Wife is a romance first and sci fi second. Based on a best selling novel the story is equal parts Back to the Future, Benjamin Button and The Notebook. It’s a story about love with no boundaries and how romance can transcend everything, even death. Sounds like a three Kleenex kind of movie, doesn’t it?
Eric Bana is Henry DeTamble, a Chicago librarian with a genetic disorder known as Chrono-Displacement that causes him to involuntarily travel through time. Clare Abshire (Rachel McAdams) is an artist. From the outset their relationship is a strange one. When they first meet she has known him since she was six years old, but because his syndrome flips him to random times in his life on an ever shifting timeline he is meeting her for the first time. Confused? Not as confused as Clare who tries to build a life with Henry even though his ailment keep them apart.
Once you get past the twisty-turny time travel story device, I’m sorry to say there isn’t much left. The Time Traveler’s Wife is at its core a very old fashioned romance about the enduring qualities of true love tarted up with a sci fi twist that only serves to muddle the story. (On film at least, I haven’t read the book.) It’s theme of love conquering all is well played out, but the flat performance from leading man Eric Bana casts a pall over the whole movie.
Bana has been in my bad books for some time now, although he redeemed himself recently with a star turn as the bad guy in Star Trek. Unfortunately The Time Traveler’s Wife was shot before Star Trek gave him a boost on the old charisma meter. His work here is understated to the point of indifference. Henry should be one of the wonders of the world, a man who can jump from year to year, but instead is played as a mope; a sad sack crippled by his remarkable ability.
Rachel McAdams, on the other hand, underplays the role of Clare, but instead of disappearing into the fabric of the film as Bana does, brings subtlety and grace to the character. When she tells her friend about Henry’s condition, adding, with rueful understatement, “It’s a problem,” she shows us a vulnerable side to Clare, the side that realizes her life will never be normal, but also the side that knows she is powerless to change her situation. It’s a nice, quiet performance that conveys the power of her love for Henry and the frustration of the predetermination of her fate.
But it takes two to tango and unfortunately no matter how lovely McAdams’s performance is, she’s twirling around an empty dance floor. The themes from the book are firmly in place but there is no real spark between the actors.
True to its name “Deadfall” tumbles downward after an exciting opening sequence.
Eric Bana and Olivia Wilde are Addison and Liza, a brother-and-sister crime wave fresh off a successful casino heist. In the opening minutes of the film their getaway car loses control, crashing on an icy roadway. After Addison kills a state trooper who stops to help the pair decide to split up and meet later to escape over the Canadian border. Liza connects with a parolee Jay (Charlie Hunnam) on his way home for Thanksgiving dinner with mother June (Sissy Spacek), and father Chet (Kris Kristofferson). On the run, Addison hides out in a hunting cabin before the police catch up to him, forcing him to move along toward a protracted climax.
There are some nice moments of tension in “Deadfall.” Bana’s overly polite—“Serve the pie please June.”—but psychotic take on Addison lends some menace to the story but his good work is undone by a predictable script that relies on convenient and unbelievable coincidences to tell the story. Add to that a (possibly) incestuous relationship, daddy issues galore and an unconvincing love story and you’ll wish the Coen Brothers had been free to edit this script before it went to camera.
Also, there will be no spoilers here, but let’s just say if you are looking for the chance to see the entire cast in one place, brought together by coincidence, you’ll get it.
The photography, however is as gorgeous as the story is lackluster. You’ll feel the chill in your bones watching the harsh winter landscape portrayed so beautifully.
“Deadfall” feels incomplete, like a missed opportunity. Bana’s a good bad guy but he deserves a better story than this.
“Closed Circuit” has most of the makings for a good thriller. There’s MI5 spooks, double-dealing, corruption, an attractive cast and ripped from the headlines style story about overreaching security in the age of terror and information. What it lacks are the thrills.
Eric Bana and Rebecca Hall are Martin Rose and Claudia Simmons-Howe, lawyers and ex-lovers who find themselves in the crosshairs when their defense of Farroukh Erdogan (Denis Moschitto), a suspected terrorist, uncovers evidence that could cause a national scandal. Rose represents Erdogan in open court, while she is a special advocate whose business all happens behind closed doors.
They’re not supposed to communicate or have any contact, but as the case heats up, are forced to work together in order to survive.
In its rush to get to the climax—which is actually twisty-and-turny enough to be interesting—“Closed Circuit” blasts through plot details, not giving us any reason to care about the characters.
Like all good stories of spy huggermuggery, the movie is stylish looking, but beneath it’s slick surface there isn’t enough to keep us interested.
Which brings me to its male star. Once again Bana proves to be a handsome cipher—he’s a good-looking actor but as dull as dishwater. Hall has charm to burn in an underwritten role but sparks don’t exactly fly between these two, despite their apparent fondness for one another.
“Closed Circuit” could have been a comment on the British legal system’s use of closed sessions following the July 7, 2005 London bombing and who determines what information the public has a right to know but instead attempts and just barely succeeds in telling a much simpler story.
You don’t hear the term ‘bodice ripper” very often anymore. By definition it refers to a historical romance that emphasizes the sexual excitement of seduction and ‘ravishment,’ usually in intriguing settings and populated by royalty, pirates, highwaymen and wenches. In book form they often feature Fabio on the cover, in a new movie set in the court of Henry VIII Scarlett Johansson and Natalie Portman both have their bodices ripped by Eric Bana as the womanizing king.
