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On his blog today, the Premiere critic Glenn Kenny, displeased by a passage in my review of Before the Devil Knows You're Dead, calls me "reliably smarmy."
The last time Mr. Kenny attacked me, he quickly apologized. Perhaps this time he could at least explain the "reliably"?
After reading my pan of Sidney Lumet's new movie, Before the Devil Knows You're Dead, along with the many, many raves about it, a friend wrote to say:
What's wrong with these fucking people? I feel like A.O. Scott & David Denby (and while I have my misgivings about each, they're not idiots) just bought the package, perhaps literally sight unseen: It's "serious," it's "drama," it has these supposedly classical origins, it's got a few pomo trappings but its feet are in honorable old Hollywood, the director is a "mensch" (give me a break with the patronizing Yiddishisms, Tony).
I was literally shocked to see the film after reading all the raves about it. I'm glad not to be alone, but it makes me profoundly depressed about the lack of discrimination. I'm wondering if these are the same people who go on and on at parties about how great Philip Roth is.
You were too nice to say this directly, but most of Lumet's films are completely leaden — and all of them in the last 25 years. The only times in Lumet's long career when his methods have produced something that wasn't completely boring have been when he was given an exceptional screenplay (notably by Chayefsky). Even with that, I'm not sure how Network would play after all these years. I watched Serpico at some point in the 90s and found it entertaining in the manner of a 2-hour Kojak episode. Dog Day Afternoon and The Verdict I definitely admire, although, again, I haven't seen them for a long time. I can pretty much guarantee that 12 Angry Men would seem unwatchable.
Once I realized how bad the movie was going to be, I found myself actually pining for Quentin Tarantino. If I begged God to turn this movie into Jackie Brown, would he oblige? Sidney Lumet has never IN HIS LIFE directed a scene as good as the one between De Niro and Sam Jackson in the LAX-vicinity bar in Jackie Brown.
What are your thoughts, dear readers?
Sidney Lumet has been making movies for 50 years, and though his track
record is spotty, the man who directed Serpico, Dog Day Afternoon, and
Network generally deserves the benefit of the doubt. (Insert your own Wiz, Morning After or Gloria quip here.) His latest, Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead,
stars Philip Seymour Hoffman and Ethan Hawke as brothers, and Albert
Finney as their dad. It features a robbery gone wrong; it takes place
primarily in New York City. And it has Marisa Tomei, often in very
little clothing. In short, it’s highly promising. So why is it so bad?
Read the rest of my review of Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead here, at Stop Smiling.
Today, in Brooklyn Heights, I watched Joel and Ethan Coen film John Malkovich screech to a halt in a battered Mercedes, get out in a huff, and walk into a stately townhouse. While wearing a silk robe.
Unfortunately, Brad Pitt, George Clooney, Tilda Swinton, and Frances McDormand were nowhere in sight.
If someone had to remake a perfect '70s movie like The Heartbreak Kid, I guess we should be grateful it was the brothers Farrelly and not, say, Tony Scott. Read my take on the Grodin-Stiller face-off here, on Nextbook.
