The Not-So-Good Shepherd

There is a mystery at the heart of The Good Shepherd that kept me scratching my head and holding on to the edge of my seat for the resolution. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the tape being carefully scrutinized by a team of CIA analysts, and it wasn’t the question of whether Edward Wilson would choose to protect his son or his country. No, the mystery for me was: why the heck did Angelina Jolie take this part?

Angelina Jolie was Oscar-nominated for Girl, Interrupted, and proved her mettle as an action hero in Lara Croft Tomb Raider: The Cradle of Life. She matched Brad Pitt incredible stunt for incredible stunt in Mr. and Mrs. Smith, and now she’s reduced to playing June Cleaver? I mean, what gives? Did she owe Robert De Niro after losing a poker game? Was she dying for the chance to kiss Matt Damon (aren’t we all!)? Did her agent book this part 10 years ago?

Whatever the reason, Ms. Jolie plays a harried housewife who never sees her husband and isn’t really sure what he does all day at the office. She looks incredible as she worries over whether he’s going to make it home in time for dinner, and her lips are as luscious as ever as she throws a fit after he makes her look foolish in front of her friends.

Matt, of course, is the star of this film. He’s in almost every frame and although that ought to be enough for me, I’m afraid I just didn’t understand the point of it all. Yes, it shows us the beginnings of the CIA, but I never understood why the agency was created. Wasn’t there already an FBI? What does the CIA do that the FBI doesn’t? The film also spends quite a bit of time on a character named Valentin Miranov, played by either John Sessions or Mark Ivanir (and to say more would ruin 35 minutes of footage), and his association with a character named Stas Siyanko (or Ulysses, as secret war nicknames go), but to what purpose? Who is he to us? Or to Matt’s character, Edward Wilson? Or to the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences?

And then there’s the matter of Edward Wilson, Jr. and how he wets himself on Santa’s lap. What was that about? I was guessing it had some sort of psychological meaning associated with a child who idolizes but rarely sees his father. Although, why he would idolize a man who blithely tells him to go back to sleep after he’s just admitted to having a nightmare is beyond this confused audience member. This kid, who gets virtually no attention at all from the man who occasionally comes home to sleep in a separate bed from his mother, decides he wants to work in the same field as the guy who ignores him on his way in to answer the phone. And exactly why might that be? Don’t look for answers here, folks, ‘cause Mr. De Niro, as the director, apparently thinks they’re not important.
People are brought onscreen briefly and then get killed in this film, and although the death of a young woman is fairly spectacular, I can’t say that it mattered much to me, as we’d barely been introduced to her. All of it, I think, was to show how Edward Wilson separated his own feelings from the business in which he toiled. As Sally Bowles opined in Cabaret, his philosophy might be “That’s just politics and what’s that got to do with us?”

Angelina Jolie seems to age a bit in this film, but Matt is forever 22 – even when his son graduates from college. Of course, to me, Matt will always be the 27-year-old luminescent man I met in The Rainmaker, but this is a little ridiculous. His son grows up and over him and Matt still looks like he’s gearing up for Hell Week at the frat house. And speaking of frat houses, the hazing ritual that takes place at the Skull and Bones Society (purported to include presidents and senators among its members) looked to me like something out of a gay fetish film. Naked mud wrestling while getting peed on from the balcony above may play well at gay S&M bars like The Spike, but I sure didn’t expect to see it in a Matt Damon film! Not that there’s anything wrong with that, mind you. The scene was included, I suspect, to show what great lengths Edward Wilson would go to in order to be a part of such a revered brotherhood. He almost bows out of the club as the urine soaks into his mudpack, but he’s talked into sticking around. I imagine this experience helped him later realize that everyone is out to pee on you, which made him more and more paranoid and less and less likeable. In fact, the only one he really likes himself, a deaf woman named Laura, kind of pees on him too as she lures him to a hotel and then decides she can’t go through with it, leaving poor Edward in a state of confused arousal.

Speaking of confused arousal, I was, as always, quite taken with the image of Matt on the screen (and the image of him lying naked in a box as he discusses his father’s suicide will stay with me for a loooong time to come), but I don’t think his performance was particularly effective in this film. Yes, I got that he was playing a cold man who pushes his emotions down and who has no sense of humor. But I didn’t really buy him as the man who orders the deaths of others. It always seemed to me that everything was happening around him, not happening because of him. And there never seems to be the faintest hint of either remorse or satisfaction on his face when anything happens. I suppose this is because he’s a cold man who pushes his emotions down, but I’m afraid it doesn’t make for a very interesting movie.

And why is it called The Good Shepherd anyway? Manohla Dargis of the New York Times says it refers to Jesus' quote "I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for his sheep." However, to whom in this film would that quote refer? Edward Wilson doesn't lay down his life. And he certainly doesn't seem to care much for any of the sheep he's protecting. So, in conclusion, I must say I don't really think I'll be losing any sleep waiting for the DVD to come out. Excpet for that incredibly brief (and rather unrevealing) nude scene, there isn't much to recommend this film at all.

Co-Workers Can Be Sweet

The image to the right here was provided by Evette, a co-worker who really gets me. That is, she really seems to understand my passion (I could have said obsession, but let's go with passion) for Matt Damon. She may not entirely accept it, but she does understand it. And therefore, she encourages it by sending me a link to a group of pictures of Matt from a show called Hardball (sounds vaguely dirty, no?), on which he seems to have appeared surrounded by a gaggle of cheerleaders ("Ready? Okay!").

A few months ago, another co-worker, Diane, informed me of the picture of Matt in the Humpty Dumpty outfit you'll find elsewhere in this blog (Catch the Original Version of Everything, November 3, 2006). When Matt was on the cover of the Arts and Leisure section in the Sunday New York Times, Allison made sure I was aware of it. Patience bought me a copy of a magazine last year for my birthday because Matt was on the cover pointing toward the camera with a caption that read "Matt Damon wants you." That, of course, went right up on my wall! Mary-Theresa regularly puts any Matt-related items in my in box with a post-it note attached to highlight the picture or quote.

So, you can see, co-workers can be sweet. When they indulge our obsessions, er, passions, we love them all the more for it. Since I work with an office filled with women, they seem to have a firm grasp on my obsession. Not that women are obsessed, mind you, but I suspect if I worked in, say, a car repair center, the mechanics would likely have a problem with my Matt photos and constant Matt talk. They might go so far as to replace my Matt accoutrements with Pamela Anderson superfluities. Then, obviously, I would have to politely suggest they see a professional to get a Mattitude adjustment.

So three cheers for co-workers who understand a heart beating the faster for Matt's sparkly blue eyes, his pumped-up physique, his very existence. And thanks to them all from the bottom of my Matt-loving heart for their generous donations to my collection, so my office can be even more Mattractive. Ahhhhh...

Best Actor My Aunt Fanny!

Here's Matt reading the nominations for the Hollywood Foreign Press Association's Golden Globe Awards. Someone's name seems to be conspicuously absent. Do you have any idea who that might be? Scorsese? Nope, he was there. Eastwood? Nah, he's always there. Beyoncé? Believe it or not, she was there, too! The person of whom I write is none other than the man who portrays Mr. Aaron in the upcoming Anna Paquin film, Margaret. Yes, that's right - Matt Damon!

"Oh no," I can hear you say, "is this going to be one of those sour grapes, why-doesn’t-everyone-think-the-way-I-do rants?” Well, yeah. So if you don’t think the way I do, maybe you shouldn’t read it. “But Sam,” you’re asking now, “how can we know how you think if we don’t read it?” Good question. You’re smart! I’ve devised this little quiz to help you out:

I think Matt Damon is –

a) One of the finest actors of his generation
b) So beautiful I am overcome with desire for him
c) Such a nice guy it’s hard to believe he’s in this cut-throat industry
d) Due for another Oscar

If you answered any of the above, then you think like I do, so you can feel safe to read on.

In the Best Performance by an Actor in a Motion Picture-Drama category, the HFPA nominated Leonardo DiCrapio - twice! Now, I can understand nominating his riveting turn in The Departed, but singling him out for Blood Diamond? That’s not a movie, that’s a history lecture on celluloid. Forest Whitaker was nominated, as expected, for The Last King of Scotland. Of course, I don’t have any interest in seeing a movie about Idi Amin. The only way you could get me interested in that is to match him up with fellow dictators Saddam Hussein and Kim Jong Il and call it Dreamboys. Saddam would be riveting in his act one closer And I Am Telling You I’m Not Hanging. Also nominated as expected was Peter O’Toole, who plays an aging, womanizing actor in Venus, just as he did in My Favorite Year, but this time he’s even older. His range is astounding! The other nominee is Will Smith, who added some grey to his hair and had a bunch of take your son to work days while filming The Pursuit of Happyness (sic). Now, I didn’t like Will Smith when he was a fresh prince and I didn’t like him when he punched out an alien in Independence Day, so why the critics think I ought to like him now (as they all seem to) is just beyond me. I once worked with brokerage firms and they weren’t interesting then, so I truly doubt something has happened since to make watching an intern’s experience at Dean Witter Reynolds more interesting than, say, waiting for toast to pop up.

But Matt, well Matt was brilliant in The Departed. His intensity, his smoldering charm, his seductive stare into the camera as he tries to make us forget what a lowlife scum he’s playing…how could the HFPA miss all that? I don’t go for this type of movie normally, but I will see anything Matt is in (even if he’s in it with Will Smyth [sic]), so I ran out to see The Departed right away, ‘natch. Matt was so amazing in the movie, I hardly noticed time passing at all. Oh yeah, the other actors (Alex Baldwin, Martin Sheen, Mark Wahlberg…) were terrific as well, but I thought the whole story was about little Colin Sullivan. From the time he was an adorable little tyke buying groceries for his family with blood money (but not blood diamonds), to the moment when he realizes he just can’t escape his fate any longer, this flick is all about Matt, er, Colin. So why would the HFPA snub him like this? No matter who wins this one, kids, it won't be the "Best" Actor, you know what I mean?

That said, of course I’ll watch the 64th Annual Golden Globe Awards on January 15th, since I love what an open bar does to a celebrity as much as the next drama queen. But I’m definitely going to walk out of the room when they announce the “Best” Actor award. So there!

Good Matt Wanting

Okay, I did my homework. I watched Good Will Hunting again ‘cause I didn’t love it the first time and I kept hearing (and reading) such fabulous things about it I had to see if I was misremembering it. In a way, I was. I remember not really understanding the ending – thinking he was just going off on some tear because everyone seemed to think he should. But how could I have missed the line he wrote to Robin Williams’ character about going off to “see about a girl?”

Isn’t that sweet that he’s going to drive cross-country in his brand-new beat-up car to find Minnie Driver after he was so harsh with her (She: I love you; He: You take care now)? What if she never wants to see him again? What if she has a new frat guy boyfriend who kicks Matt’s ass after he’s learned to be all sensitive to how other people feel? What if he breaks up with her on the Oprah Winfrey show? Whoops, that last one was a mistake. That was a rumor started by none other than Minnie Driver herself. And she took it back years later, after she discovered she did absolutely no damage whatsoever to Matt’s career and hers was flailing like a surfer trying to outswim a shark in a whirlpool.

This movie (1997) is basically Little Man Tate (1991) all grown up, but I’ll bet Matt was hoping we wouldn’t notice that. Poor Matt is a genius without direction, just as Adam Hann-Byrd was a budding genius without direction as Fred Tate. Fred loved his working-class mom (Jodie Foster), but was seduced (intellectually speaking) by Dianne Wiest, who knew all about how to treat a budding temperamental genius (“Fred you come right back here and eat your vegetables! You may not watch the Rachmaninoff concert on PBS until you eat all of your asparagus!”).

In Good Will Hunting, Matt loves his working-class friend (Ben Affleck), but gets seduced (literally) by Minnie Driver, who has no clue how to treat a temperamental genius. But Matt finally gets what he needs from Robin Williams, here resurrecting John Keating from Dead Poets Society so he can tell Matt to “seize the day!” After Robin assures Matt repeatedly in a mantra-like fashion “It’s not your fault...It's not your fault...It's not your fault...”
Matt wonders if their tight clinch celebrating his psychological breakthrough might be breaking the patient/therapist rules. Robin answers “Only if you grab my ass.” Of course, this scene left me wondering if I might get the same reaction out of Matt if I should meet him some day and just repeat over and over “It’s not your fault.” Because, you know, Matt, it really isn’t. You can’t be blamed for writing yourself this cheesy little script after you failed to get the attention you deserved for your role as Edgar Pudwhacker in Glory Daze. And you really should have garnered much more attention from your sensitive portrayal of Ilario in Courage Under Fire (another cheesy little script, but alas, not written by you).

So what is good Matt wanting in this film? My guess is an Oscar, and the great news is he got it!
But he got it for writing instead of looking beautiful with his legs spread wide open while he works his way through the after-effects of an unassisted puberty (we all need somebody to lean on, n’est-çe pas?). Poor Will was an orphan, and an abused one at that. But in this movie the one who’s abused is Ben Affleck. He helped write the darn script and he gets maybe 16 lines in the whole thing! Maybe he just wanted a break after Going All the Way with Rose McGowan? Nonetheless, Matt is clearly the star of this film, with Robin Williams supporting him (so to speak), but not by grabbing his ass.

Speaking of grabbing asses, I saw Matt on David Letterman the other night and he did an impression of Matthew McConaughey. When I later told my friend Joe "I saw Matt doing Matthew," I suddenly realized that’s the film I’d really like to see! They could both be wrestling instructors in high school (like Robin Williams was in The World According to Garp) and they could call it Taking it to the Matts. There could be that healthy little competition thing between sexy men, er, um, educators, and it could costar Justin Timberlake as the star wrestler of the school who’s bringing sexy back to all the cheerleaders. Can someone greenlight this project for me?

Winter Awakening

Spring Awakening has transferred from the smaller Atlantic Theater Company space to Broadway's Eugene O'Neill theatre. And it's none the worse for wear. The cast is intact, led by the beautiful Lea Michele (who wisely chose to stay in this production, rather than take on the role of Eponine in the return of Les Miserables) and the ruggedly handsome Jonathan Groff (who's trying to live down his appearance in the laughed-out-of-town In My Life).

This show is a hybrid of Frank Wedekind's 1891 play (originally banned in Germany for its frank treatment of sexual matters) and a contemporary score by Duncan Sheik and Steven Sater. The plot involves teenaged students who aren't taught about sex and get into trouble because they're having sex. Leave it to those randy teens! "Oh, Sam," you're asking now, "is this one of those Commie liberal, heart-on-your-sleeve, freedom is everything message pieces?" Well, yeah. And the earnest and thinly dramatized book may annoy the crap out of anyone with at least a high school education, but the score and its performance by this cast of attractive 20-somethings may just blow you away! When was the last time you tapped your foot and bopped your head along to songs about masturbation, parental abuse, lust, teen suicide and obsessive romance? Okay, put down the Christina Aguilera album, I'm trying to make a point.

Duncan Sheik and Steven Sater have written some of the most catchy, vibrant and exciting theater songs since Dreamgirls. Yeah, I know some people thought Rent had some terrific songs, but some people ain't me. Spring Awakening also has some ballads, but as my friend Eva astutely pointed out at intermission, they tend to be minor key opuses with similar structures and dynamics, so they tend to be overlooked after three or four of them wash over you. But those uptempo numbers! My favorite remains Totally Fucked, where the movements created by Bill T. Jones finally explode after being carefully layered throughout the evening. Kevin Adams' lighting design threatens to explode, as well. The whole stage is so alive during this song, it's almost a show-stopper. The applause went on for at least two minutes, and that's a mighty good hand in the theatre!

The first exciting anthem of the evening is The Bitch of Living, wherein the boys (the cast, as repressive conservatives would want it, is divided into the boys and girls camps) expostulate over the cruelty of being forced to conjugate in Latin. Although I know my friend Patience would think the phrase "conjugate in Latin" would be dirty (she's a dirty, dirty girl), it's actually not, and that's why they hate it so. But the song, led by John Gallagher, Jr. (who may be the next John Mayer - look up his band, Old Springs Pike, at their website, www.oldspringspike.com), is a pounding discourse on how tough it is just to get from day to day. I freakin' love it! This is followed by My Junk, a song of obsessive love (or lust?) that I relate to in a way that only Matt Damon could truly understand. Well, actually, I'm not sure Matt Damon would understand my obsessive love at all, but I would like him to know he is my junk.

One of the ballads that works extremely well for me is The Word of Your Body, which likens falling in love to being wounded. Yup, sounds about right to me. Another ballad that works for me is Blue Wind, sung by Jonathan Groff bathed in a blue light. Literalism works for me sometimes, ya know? Like the literal meaning behind the film title Good Will Hunting (which I'm going to be watching again this weekend). Will Hunting is a good guy, and he's a guy hunting for good will. So that's two ways the title is literal. For a guy like me who loves puns, this title really turns me on. If only the movie did, too. I know Matt wrote it with Afflack, but it's sometimes as cheesily earnest as, well, as the book to Spring Awakening.

But the high energy numbers in the show are the ones that really speak to me, and John Gallagher, Jr. shoots slings and arrows into my soul with his propulsive bites of And Then There Were None and Don't Do Sadness. I'm telling you, I love the way this guy rocks out! And I think he's cute as hell, too.

But Matt, please don't be jealous. I'm gonna be wounded by you, you're gonna be my wound. And I Will Always Love You...but that's another song altogether.

When I First Saw You

The "you" in question is the sumptuous movie version of Dreamgirls! I was lucky enough to catch a press screening of this visually striking, musically exciting new film, and let me be the 502nd person to say: "this is going to be a big hit!"

Recently Jennifer Holliday has been moaning about how she wasn't asked to portray the character she created in the workshop of the stage event. That would be Effie Melody White, who ages from 16 to 22 in the story. I knew Jennifer had a big ego, but for her to think she can still convincingly portray this role at her current age of 46, well, her sense of personal ability is admirable, albeit somewhat misguided. And Diana Ross has been moaning as well. Miss Ross has some problem with this musical, but I can't figure out what it is. If she's upset about it being a thinly veiled version of her rise to fame in The Supremes, I don't know why. She comes off smelling like a rose. Mr. Berry Gordy, well, that's another story, but Diana makes everything up to Florence Ballard in this version of the story (whereas, in real life, Ms. Ballard died on welfare at the age of 32).

Four songs have been added to the score. Listen is Beyonce's (unsuccessful) stab at overshadowing the amazing performance of Jennifer Hudson in the pivotal role of Effie. I can't quite figure how Listen works, actually. It's presented as a song being recorded by Deena, but it goes against every kind of song her Svengali-like husband/manager Curtis has provided her with up to that point. It doesn't seem believable to me that Curtis would approve this type of song for her. As a book song (allowing Deena to sing her thoughts to Curtis instead of using dialogue), I think it absolutely would have worked, but it seems these days movie audiences aren't willing to accept characters singing instead of talking. Well, they're going to get some of that in this movie anyway. Family, It's All Over and The Firing of Jimmy come immediately to mind. Get over it people, it's a musical!

Patience is James Thunder Early's stab at approximating Mavin Gaye's success with What's Going On, but it doesn't work out for him because Curtis won't release a "message" song. Pity, 'cause it's really good! Perfect World is the film's chance to shoehorn The Jackson Five into a story everyone has been claiming for 25 years has nothing to do with Diana Ross and The Supremes. And Love You, I Do is my choice for this year's Best Song Oscar. Jennifer Hudson auditions it as a potential single for The Dreams, but the betrayal to come makes the song ironic and hugely moving. I sure hope the Academy agrees with me!

A lot of ink has been spilled over Jennifer Hudson's fantastic film debut as Effie, so I guess I'll just say "ditto." Jamie Foxx was the only real disappointment for me, as it turns out. On Oprah, he said he purposefully sang subpar because his character isn't a singer. What he isn't acknowledging is that his two songs (Stepping to the Bad Side and When I First Saw You) are book songs, so technically his character isn't singing at all. You see, dear reader, in a musical, when characters sing to one another, we're supposed to ignore the fact that there isn't really an orchestra backing them up, and that it's fairly unusual for people to rhyme in their everyday conversations. Since I've read over and over again that audiences today don't appreciate how musicals work, I thought I'd better explain that simple fact to the novices among you. So my point here is that Jamie needn't pull back on his singing ability, since our collective suspension of disbelief would conclude that his character is merely sharing his viewpoint, not performing a song from his latest album about how much he wishes his grandmother could see him become a big success. Beyonce is terrific as Deena, but I'm still perplexed over why they insist on billing her as the lead. Deena is not the lead - Effie is. But, Hollywood being what it is, and hugely successful music artists with fathers who produce their material being what they are, Beyonce is credited above the title.

Eddie Murphy (in his own, separate little paragraph here) is thrilling in his major comeback to the world of creating a character. His James Thunder Early is a little bit James Brown, a little bit Little Richard, and a whole lot of excitement! After seeing him talk to animals, protect his outer space nightclub and run a daycare center for brats, it's wonderful to see him act again. I wouldn't call him a donkey for lending his voice to the popular Shrek films, but like Robin Williams before him, this animated actor can be highly innovative in the proper dramatic piece. Dreamgirls is definitely that piece for Mr. Murphy.

And conversely, some actors aren't really meant to do animated pieces. Like, um, Matt Damon, for example. As cute as Titan A.E. and Spirit, Stallion of the Cimarron are, I don't really believe Matt's voice added that much to either occasion. How dare I write something negative about Matt, you say? Well, think of it this way: in animated films, we're denied the chance to look at Matt's beautiful face. Now that's something negative!

So, to sum up, this is the holiday event (it opens nationwide December 25) for everyone. Whether you're gay or straight, black or white, the story of the rise and fall of The Dreamettes is one for audiences everywhere to delight in. And for the Oscar show to lavish its affections on. This is their chance to make up for snubbing Brokeback Mountain last year!