Notoriously Wrestling with Che

(otherwise known as my misguided attempt to review three movies at the same time)

"You know very well, who you are;
Don't let 'em hold you down, reach for the stars..."

So goes the well known chorus to "Juicy", the career-making debut single by the late Christopher Wallace, (known to the world as the Notorious B.I.G. or, more endearingly, just "Biggie"). On its own the chorus is a blandly inspiring slogan, but in the context of the song, and more importantly in the context of Biggie's life, it speaks to the stalwart determination of a man to prove his worth even when others weren't questioning it.

If that sounds familiar, it's because we've seen the same story told in three recent movies: Notorious, The Wrestler, and Che, all three of which illustrate the lives of men who just didn't know when to say "when". From my perspective it doesn't really matter that two of them are about real people and one of them is not. As Randy "The Ram" Robinson, Mickey Rourke is essentially playing himself. Conversely, both Christopher Wallace and Che Guevara have been mythologized to the point that they can almost be viewed as fictional characters.

I'm not saying that the three men lived similar lives; on the surface they could hardly be more different. I'm saying that they shared an inner struggle that no one else could understand - one that transcended their wildly different educational, cultural, and familial backgrounds: a primal need for acceptance. Acceptance from world powers (Che), acceptance from peers (Notorious), and acceptance from themselves (The Wrestler). Driven almost mad in seeking this acceptance and never finding themselves satisfied, all three of their lives traversed a path that, in hindsight, was all too predictable.

Tragically and perhaps not surprisingly, each of these men had extremely difficult relationships with their families (shown above). Not only did all three have failed marriages, but they also had children from whom they were estranged, if they knew them at all. I admit knowing little about the inner workings of each of their families, but it's apparent to me that Wallace, Robinson, and Guevara were simply too caught up in their future to realize what they were leaving in the past, family ties included.

You can hardly blame them, in one way, since at the height of each of their popularity they were admired by hundreds, thousands, or millions (depending on the character) of people. Like most iconic figures, their time in the limelight was intense yet fleeting, with much of their influence being realized after their careers peaked.

So how do the movies measure up when it comes to drawing us into the lives of these men? A brief look at each:

- Che: Directed by Steven Soderbergh (Ocean's Thirteen), it's a two-part epic that surprisingly keeps you engaged for a full four and a half hours, mostly due to a magnetic performance by Benicio del Toro. It's the same type of work he continues to do (most recently in Things We Lost in the Fire) with little fanfare and even less recognition from Hollywood award-givers. For what must have been one of the most challenging roles of his career, it's a shame so few people have taken the time to appreciate it.

Whether Che is a humanizing biopic or a historical epic isn't as obvious as it may seem on first viewing, but either way it's an engaging, informative film that, in my opinion, was long overdue. I expect this will be looked back on as a major achievement by Soderbergh, but in the meantime it's only an honorable mention as one of the best films of 2008.

Grade: A-

- Notorious: What's apparent throughout this straightforward retelling of Biggie's meteoric rise is that it's meant to shine a blindingly positive light on the rapper's life and career. If you weren't hip to the production details before seeing it, it will make a lot of sense in the end credits when you see Voletta Wallace (Biggie's mother) and Sean Combs listed as executive producers. I can actually respect Combs for allowing Derek Luke (Miracle at St. Anna) to play him as a young, cocky producer with an immediately recognizable goofy dance, but I'm not sure I'm OK with the movie covering Biggie's entire career and essentially glossing over all the interesting details. It plays like an adaptation of an article from The Source magazine - luxurious living and backstage belligerence, but little analysis of what was actually motivating the artist.

Despite Jamal Woolard's eye-popping turn as the title figure, when it comes down to it Notorious simply falls short of its potential, which of course wasn't the case with the actual man. If nothing else he deserves a treatment that attempts to illustrate his impressive inner drive. For comparison, the Oscar-nominated documentary Tupac: Resurrection wasn't perfect, but at the very least it leaves you much more interested in its subject. Notorious just leaves you singing "Juicy" for a few days - in which case you could just listen to the album instead.

Grade: B-

- The Wrestler: Certainly one of the most surprising movies of 2008 (and one that clocked in at #7 on my year-end list), The Wrestler continues the recent trend of not actually being about what you think it's about - Blindsight, Surfwise, and Trouble the Water serving as other recent examples. Darren Aronofsky seems to get a kick out of giving his films ambiguous titles (The Fighter is due out this year or next), which piques your interest without raising your expectations too high. He really has to be given credit for making films that are different enough to defy easy categorization, yet still exist within some kind of similar genre. You never know what you're going to get, and I find that refreshing.

From this point on, the same should really be said for Mickey Rourke as well. Although he's admitted that he felt he'd turned in a strong performance immediately after wrapping on the set, I'm not sure how obvious it might have been in the moment that he'd dialed in one of the best acting jobs of the decade. People will say it's easy because his career path has been so similar to his character's, but I'm not sure how quickly I buy that sentiment. Try acting as yourself at another age in your life, maybe 10 years ago - or 10 years from now, to make things even more difficult. There's a lot of nuance to that kind of performance, and Rourke must have found it challenging to separate himself completely from the character, allowing "The Ram" to exist as a wholly unique man. His success in doing so accounts for as much of the excellence of the overall film as Aronofsky's direction or Robert Siegel's screenplay.

Grade: A

So I guess I didn't conclusively answer the question I posed prior to those brief synopses, but in short I think i could say this: Che and Notorious do well in telling the story of two men, but don't necessarily offer enough under-the-surface insights as to what was going on in their heads. The Wrestler has the advantage of covering a much shorter period of its character's life, and it doesn't waste a minute in portraying "The Ram" as a completely realistic guy who could be struggling along in any city in America.

For that reason - its ability to provide the most depth and authenticity to its central character - I have to consider The Wrestler as the best of the bunch.

Global Lens 2008: El Custodio (The Custodian)

We don't often see bodyguards often in the U.S., do we? I probably associate them with the paparazzi more so than anything else, which is why observing the daily life of a depressed bodyguard for a mid-level Argentinian government official in El Custodio (The Custodian) was really quite interesting. Writer/Director Rodrigo Moreno's first feature film was the winner of numerous awards in 2006, including the Alfred Bauer award at the Berlin International Film Festival, given to a "movie which opens new perspectives in film art." That sounds about right to me, as do the the numerous awards doled out to Julio Chávez for his lead role as Rubén. (The Custodian was one of ten films selected as part of the 2008 Global Lens series, currently making its way around the country. Find it. Support it.)

Moreno is not interested in your attention span. From its first frame to its last, The Custodian is a third-person point of view study of one character whose job is, well, to basically just sit around and wait for something to happen. For the first 20 minutes or so, we know that Rubén (Chávez) smokes. That's about it. If you're still paying attention you might be able to figure what the government minister does, but for the most part we don't know who he is or why he would be in danger. But there's Rubén, following behind like a trained dog in the hallway, hands folded just so behind his back. He lives as another man's shadow.

Gradually, beautifully, Moreno peels back the layers of Rubén's character. Literally, as we see him trying on bullet-proof vests, but more so figuratively, as we learn, for example, that he's a talented sketch artist. He lives alone. His sister appears to have mental issues (illustrated by the fact that she thinks Rubén's "connections" can help her daughter become a pop star). He likes banana smoothies. He's never been in the ocean.

He's lonely. He's frustrated with the Chinese immigrant population around him in Buenos Aires. He's disgusted with the sexual exploits of the minister's daughter, but he's not above visiting a prostitute himself. He's bored by his job and frustrated with his life. In fact, he despises the very person he's hired to protect.


The Custodian is the type of film that can lose you at any minute. Symbolically, Rodrigo Moreno directs the film as if he were Rubén - slowly, methodically, unemotionally. There is little music to help you along and not much in the way of scenery. Moreno makes heavy use of fixed-frame shots (reminiscent of Michael Haneke's Caché) and long takes that seem to take you nowhere, but the patient viewer will find themselves fully engrossed by the film's tense finale. My initial impression is that additional viewings would bring to light important details from both the camera work and the dialogue (there aren't too many lines spoken here, so you know each one is significant and deliberate), but one could just as well find that the film actually doesn't have anything more behind it, and is simply a lesson in existentialism.

If you’re in the mood for a standard thriller, look elsewhere. The Custodian is more appropriate as an artistic study of film, but it's also evidence of another promising young filmmaker to keep an eye on.

REVIEW: Love in the Time of Cholera (C-)

Background: Many people recognize the title of Nobel prize winner Gabriel García Márquez's classic novel from the film Serendipity. Who knows whether that spawned the idea for a film adaptation, but it took several years to receive permission from García Márquez before director Mike Newell (Four Weddings and a Funeral, Donnie Brasco) took the helm. The two main characters are played by Spaniard Javier Bardem (No Country for Old Men) and Italian Giovanna Mezzogiorno (Facing Windows - she looked SO familiar! I completely forgot about that movie). John Leguizamo (The Pest) and Benjamin Bratt (TV's "Law & Order) offer supporting performances and easily recognizable faces for the public. Catalina Sandino Moreno (Maria Full of Grace) also appears, adding the only authentic Colombian influence to the cast (Leguizamo is Colombian, too, but...).

Synopsis: In cholera-stricken, late-19th century Cartagena, Colombia, Florentino Ariza (Bardem) is a kind-hearted telegram delivery boy who lives with his mother. When a delivery brings him to the home of rich mule-owner Lorenzo Daza (Leguizamo), Florentino is lovestruck by Daza's daughter Fermina (Mezzogiorno). The two secretly and then publicly profess their love for each other until Daza, embarrassed to have his daughter courted by a telegram boy, moves with her to live with relatives in the countryside, where we meet Fermina's cousin Hildebranda (Sandino Moreno). When Fermina returns to Cartagena years later, the still-in-love Florentino is waiting with excitement, only to have his heart completely crushed when rejects him and their love as an "illusion." She is soon courted by and then somewhat reluctantly married to Juvenal Urbino (Bratt), a handsome doctor with a knack for diagnosing cholera. Over the course of the next 40 years, Florentino tries to get over his lost love by writing love letters and sleeping with as many (600+) women as possible, while Fermina tragically realizes she'll never experience the happiness she once had with Florentino. By the time her husband dies, she and Florentino have little time to regain their lost love.

I Loved:
+ The on location filming in Colombia - some beautiful shots.
+ Javier Bardem's performance when Fermina turns him away in the marketplace.

I Liked:
+ Catalina Sandino Moreno, though she was underutilized - it's a shame this Oscar nominee hasn't received more significant roles lately.
+ The undistracting original music by Shakira - she's Colombian, it fit.

I Disliked:
- Liev Schreiber in a bizarre cameo.
- The obligatory, unnecessary flash-forward/time warp at the beginning - can we not just see a simple story in chronological order?

I Hated:
- The unbelievably awful make-up.
- The awkward, uncomfortable final sex scene.
- John Leguizamo's impression of Marlon Brando in the scene on the patio with Bardem.

Grade:
Writing - 8
Acting - 7
Production - 4
Emotional Impact - 7
Music - 5
Significance - 4

Total: 35/50= 70% = C-

Last Word: If you can get through Love in the Time of Cholera without being completely distracted by the make-up, you must have the concentration of a brain surgeon. It seemed every character was at times suffering from sunburn, psoriasis, a botched rhinoplasty, or death. Add some terrible accents (Leguizamo had 3 by my count) and mediocre acting (though Bardem was predictably good), and you're left quite disappointed. Despite Mike Newell's failure, however, the ability of García Márquez to show the joy and pain of love somehow shines through. I haven't read the book, but I'm tempted to, if only to get the bad taste of the movie out of my head. Had Love in the Time of Cholera been adapted in Spanish, firstly, and with different actors for different ages, secondly, this could have been a romantic classic. Instead we're left with a made-for-TV-quality disaster that evokes cringing and scoffing more than anything else.