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Film Clips
JULY 13, 1998:
 CHINESE BOX. Wayne Wang, who directed Smoke, has
managed to make an almost entirely unintelligible movie about...it's
hard to say, exactly. It's kind of about the transfer of Hong
Kong to the Chinese, and it's sort of about a journalist, John
(Jeremy Irons), who rather conveniently comes down with a bad
case of incurable leukemia that has him scheduled to die at the
same moment the British are scheduled to pull out. John is an
odd fellow, an antihero from the old school--macho, self-obsessed,
frequently drunk. As soon as he's diagnosed with cancer, he runs
out and begins to stalk a young girl (the adorable Maggie Cheung)
with a video camera. Then he goes back to his apartment, where
he and his buddy Jim (Ruben Blades), another middle-aged ex-patriot,
obsessively ruminate over her image. Despite his fixation with
the girl, John is hopelessly in love with Vivian (Gong Li). But
Vivian loves Chang (Michael Hui), who refuses to marry her, because
she was once a prostitute. Watching these two blowsy, middle-aged
actors compete for the favors of Gong Li, indisputably one of
the most beautiful women in the world, is like watching two bulldogs
fight over an orchid. The melodrama heats up even more as John,
increasingly fascinated and repelled by Vivian's disreputable
past, takes a tour of Hong Kong's seedier sex dives. It's not
long before the whole thing degenerates into a pretentious version
of Showgirls, only more misogynistic. Sharing the blame
for this travesty are co-writers Jean-Claude Carriere, Larry Gross
and the ever-annoying Paul Theroux. --Richter
DIRTY WORK. Norm Macdonald has the sort of face and attitude
that's funny even if he just stands there doing nothing. Unfortunately,
in Dirty Work, Macdonald runs around spewing stillborn
half-jokes and pulling unimaginative revenge schemes on stereotypical
villains. Big dogs hump big dogs; skunks hump little dogs; Macdonald
gets ass-raped in jail; the highly obnoxious Artie Lange (Mad
TV) and highly dead Chris Farley try to squeeze laughs out
of their corpulence; Gary Coleman and Adam Sandler appear for
so-over-the-top-they're-under-the-bottom cameos; Chevy Chase and
Don Rickles do what they always do, tiredly--and none of it is
funny. Then again, if you willingly go to a movie directed by
Bob Saget (of America's Stupidest Home Videos fame), you
have no one to blame but yourself. --Woodruff
I WENT DOWN. Male-identified films, especially those grouped
within the buddy genre, often go out of their way to direct audience
attention away from queer interpretations of male-male relationships.
In some ways that holds true for this Irish production--we get
the mandatory female love interest; a three-second sex scene;
and plenty of discussions about female hardware. The much more
interesting and consequential narrative, however, involves the
burgeoning Odd Couple-esque relationship between a doe-eyed
ex-con named Git (Felix) and his bumbling partner (Oscar). They
are brought together because both are working off debts of sorts
to a mob boss, and initially their personality differences result
in animosity and frustration. Many references to Git's titanic
manhood later, the two decide to put their girls on the side and
move to the United States. It's a formula we've all seen before:
After many obstacles, the couple couples and rides off into the
sunset. The satisfying and self-referential ending of I Went
Down is welcome, too, because the weak comedic elements (madcap
antics, pratfalls) that occur throughout the film become increasingly
tedious and annoying. --Higgins
THE OPPOSITE OF SEX. Forget about wholesome sincerity in
writer/director Don Roos' tale of unrequited love among gays and
schoolteachers. Sarcastic self-cancellation rules, as the story's
narrator, Christina Ricci, sourly criticizes all the storytelling
conventions that come with the depressing territory. The result
is a funny, energetic movie with a severe case of multiple-personality
disorder. The travails of the spurned Martin Donovan form a fast-moving
but not terribly compelling plot that provides Roos plenty of
material for the bitchy Ricci (a manipulative catalyst throughout
the story) to verbally trample. The movie's inability to keep
its heart in one place might become annoying if it weren't for
Roos' great lines of dialogue, most of which he gives to Lisa
Kudrow, playing Donovan's cynical best friend. Kudrow's gift for
sharp comic delivery ensures that the picture remains the opposite
of dull throughout. --Woodruff
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