Posts
By PHILIP WUNTCH
Film Critic Emeritus
Film Critic Emeritus
Nicole Kidman always gives the appearance of having a thick skin. Good thing.
Forbes magazine branded her the most overpaid actress on Hollywood's ever-fluctuating A-list. Her current big-budget opus "The Golden Compass" quickly headed south, as did the recent "The Invasion," both with Daniel Craig. Meanwhile, her indie effort "Margot at the Wedding" sharply divided critics and remains only a middling performer on the art house circuit.
"Margot at the Wedding" actually has several points in its favor, most specifically the manner in which it captures the edginess of some family reunions. As such, it's a welcome antidote to the popular "Dan in Real Life," wherein family members are so snug and cozy you expect them to bring out a box of puppets and start singing "The Lonely Goatherd."
But director Noah Baumbach, whose previous dsyfunctional-family dramedy "The Squid and the Whale" was poignant and haunting, uses "Margot" as a canvas for characters I couldn't wait to get away from his in-your-face style mirrors his in-your-face characters. And none is more in your face than Kidman's Margot. She's a ferociously judgmental and arrogant writer. An ice goddess and proud of it, she loves her intuitive but troubled adolescent son, yet berates him with a professional writer's cold precision.
Kidman's never been afraid of playing unpleasant people, which is to her credit. But in "Margot," she fails to walk the tightrope of playing an irritating person without seeming like an irritating actor.
Truth is, she's never carried a major box-office champion. Both "Cold Mountain" and "The Interpreter" earned solid rather than spectacular figures. Even the much-hyped "Moulin Rouge" underperformed with ticketbuyers. And such purely commercial ventures as "Bewitched" and "The Stepford Wives" were turkeys.
She's always been aware of her place in Hollywood hierarchy. In 1992, Nic 'n Cruise were giving interviews for "Far and Away." (That uneven epic, of course, was released during their "cute couple" days, when she always referred to her then-husband by his last name and he always called her "Nic.") She proudly cited that she was the first star to be cast in an upcoming thriller "Malice," with Alec Baldwin later signed as co-star.
"This is the first time I've been cast before the male lead," she told the media. "That's an important sign to me."
Also important to her is establishing "street cred" -- acceptance by those who crave independent film fare and care not the tiniest Raisinette for hopeful blockbusters. That's a difficult feat for a Chanel No. 5 spokeswoman, and she hasn't managed it gracefully. "Dogville" was a success, but "Birth" and "Fur: An Imaginary Portrait of Diane Arbus" were as misguided as "Bewitched" and "The Stepford Wives."
One of her few roles to earn both "street cred" and mainstream acceptance was the lethally ambitious aspiring newscaster of "To Die For." Yet that character hinted that she was in a no-win situation, with many moviegoers sneering, "She's just playing herself." Her undeniable beauty has an aloof quality, and she indeed oozes ambition as shamelessly as any Joan Crawford-ish Old Hollywood diva.
Still, most of her directors praise her efforts. Texas native Robert Benton guided her through "The Human Stain" and "Billy Bathgate," both based on difficult-to-adapt novels. He gratefully cited her efforts to make the filming of "Billy Bathgate" flow as gracefully as possible, saying that she recognized that other cast members were not doing the same (an unspecified reference to Dustin Hoffman.)
So what's ahead for Diva Nicole? She's now 40, generally considered a difficult age for actresses. But for her, it could be a blessing. Despite her mainstream aspirations, many of her choices reflect the taste of a character actress. Yet her beauty could prevent her from attaining that lofty if unglamorous goal. After all, how many fake noses can win an Oscar?
Like I said, sometimes she's in a no-win situation.
*********
Another actress submitted to public scourging, albeit not as drastically as in Forbes Magazine, is Diane Keaton.
In an interview in England's The Independent, Rupert Everett moans about how legendary actors have become grotesque parodies of themselves. He lists all the usual suspects: DeNiro, Pacino, Nicholson, Redford. But he also adds Keaton's name, having just seen "Because I Said So" and finding her performance an impure self-parody. (If you're thinking that Everett's own movie career hasn't exactly zoomed since "My Best Friend's Wedding," he blames that on "Hollywood's homophobia.")
Maybe Rupe should lighten up on Keaton. She's now 61 years old and is still playing lead roles. But she knows and accepts the position of a sexagenarian actress in Hollywood. Four years ago, she won an Oscar nomination for the hit comedy "Something's Gotta Give" and was asked if she felt it would nudge her career in new directions.
"Oh, no, not at all," she said with a laugh. "There's no such thing as a new direction for an actress my age. I'll be offered the same types of roles, and I'll play them happily. There are young directors I would love to work with -- Paul Thomas Anderson, Sofia Coppola. Oh, how I would love to work with Sofia, having been directed by her father and having acted alongside her!
But I have to face facts. They're young talents and they don't usually direct films with parts for women my age."
Her career always has been marked by dry patches brightened by sudden creative bursts. After starring in the "Father of the Bride" sequel and, even more ignominiously, doing a voice-over for the "Look Who's Talking" sequel, she suddenly had a hit comedy with "The First Wives Club" and an Oscar nomination for "Marvin's Room." She gave a touching, truly heartfelt performance in the latter film, and in a cast of Meryl Streep, Robert DeNiro, Hume Cronyn and the pre-"Titanic" Leonardo DiCaprio, she was the sole Oscar nominee.
She's also one of the few contemporary actresses who one day might make a sensational subject for a biographer. That's not merely a sly reference to her relationships with Woody 'n Warren 'n Al but also a salute to her survival instincts. She doesn't have the same choice of roles she once did. She knows it and accepts it. That's the sure sign of a survivor.
Forbes magazine branded her the most overpaid actress on Hollywood's ever-fluctuating A-list. Her current big-budget opus "The Golden Compass" quickly headed south, as did the recent "The Invasion," both with Daniel Craig. Meanwhile, her indie effort "Margot at the Wedding" sharply divided critics and remains only a middling performer on the art house circuit.
"Margot at the Wedding" actually has several points in its favor, most specifically the manner in which it captures the edginess of some family reunions. As such, it's a welcome antidote to the popular "Dan in Real Life," wherein family members are so snug and cozy you expect them to bring out a box of puppets and start singing "The Lonely Goatherd."
But director Noah Baumbach, whose previous dsyfunctional-family dramedy "The Squid and the Whale" was poignant and haunting, uses "Margot" as a canvas for characters I couldn't wait to get away from his in-your-face style mirrors his in-your-face characters. And none is more in your face than Kidman's Margot. She's a ferociously judgmental and arrogant writer. An ice goddess and proud of it, she loves her intuitive but troubled adolescent son, yet berates him with a professional writer's cold precision.
Kidman's never been afraid of playing unpleasant people, which is to her credit. But in "Margot," she fails to walk the tightrope of playing an irritating person without seeming like an irritating actor.
Truth is, she's never carried a major box-office champion. Both "Cold Mountain" and "The Interpreter" earned solid rather than spectacular figures. Even the much-hyped "Moulin Rouge" underperformed with ticketbuyers. And such purely commercial ventures as "Bewitched" and "The Stepford Wives" were turkeys.
She's always been aware of her place in Hollywood hierarchy. In 1992, Nic 'n Cruise were giving interviews for "Far and Away." (That uneven epic, of course, was released during their "cute couple" days, when she always referred to her then-husband by his last name and he always called her "Nic.") She proudly cited that she was the first star to be cast in an upcoming thriller "Malice," with Alec Baldwin later signed as co-star.
"This is the first time I've been cast before the male lead," she told the media. "That's an important sign to me."
Also important to her is establishing "street cred" -- acceptance by those who crave independent film fare and care not the tiniest Raisinette for hopeful blockbusters. That's a difficult feat for a Chanel No. 5 spokeswoman, and she hasn't managed it gracefully. "Dogville" was a success, but "Birth" and "Fur: An Imaginary Portrait of Diane Arbus" were as misguided as "Bewitched" and "The Stepford Wives."
One of her few roles to earn both "street cred" and mainstream acceptance was the lethally ambitious aspiring newscaster of "To Die For." Yet that character hinted that she was in a no-win situation, with many moviegoers sneering, "She's just playing herself." Her undeniable beauty has an aloof quality, and she indeed oozes ambition as shamelessly as any Joan Crawford-ish Old Hollywood diva.
Still, most of her directors praise her efforts. Texas native Robert Benton guided her through "The Human Stain" and "Billy Bathgate," both based on difficult-to-adapt novels. He gratefully cited her efforts to make the filming of "Billy Bathgate" flow as gracefully as possible, saying that she recognized that other cast members were not doing the same (an unspecified reference to Dustin Hoffman.)
So what's ahead for Diva Nicole? She's now 40, generally considered a difficult age for actresses. But for her, it could be a blessing. Despite her mainstream aspirations, many of her choices reflect the taste of a character actress. Yet her beauty could prevent her from attaining that lofty if unglamorous goal. After all, how many fake noses can win an Oscar?
Like I said, sometimes she's in a no-win situation.
*********
Another actress submitted to public scourging, albeit not as drastically as in Forbes Magazine, is Diane Keaton.
In an interview in England's The Independent, Rupert Everett moans about how legendary actors have become grotesque parodies of themselves. He lists all the usual suspects: DeNiro, Pacino, Nicholson, Redford. But he also adds Keaton's name, having just seen "Because I Said So" and finding her performance an impure self-parody. (If you're thinking that Everett's own movie career hasn't exactly zoomed since "My Best Friend's Wedding," he blames that on "Hollywood's homophobia.")
Maybe Rupe should lighten up on Keaton. She's now 61 years old and is still playing lead roles. But she knows and accepts the position of a sexagenarian actress in Hollywood. Four years ago, she won an Oscar nomination for the hit comedy "Something's Gotta Give" and was asked if she felt it would nudge her career in new directions.
"Oh, no, not at all," she said with a laugh. "There's no such thing as a new direction for an actress my age. I'll be offered the same types of roles, and I'll play them happily. There are young directors I would love to work with -- Paul Thomas Anderson, Sofia Coppola. Oh, how I would love to work with Sofia, having been directed by her father and having acted alongside her!
But I have to face facts. They're young talents and they don't usually direct films with parts for women my age."
Her career always has been marked by dry patches brightened by sudden creative bursts. After starring in the "Father of the Bride" sequel and, even more ignominiously, doing a voice-over for the "Look Who's Talking" sequel, she suddenly had a hit comedy with "The First Wives Club" and an Oscar nomination for "Marvin's Room." She gave a touching, truly heartfelt performance in the latter film, and in a cast of Meryl Streep, Robert DeNiro, Hume Cronyn and the pre-"Titanic" Leonardo DiCaprio, she was the sole Oscar nominee.
She's also one of the few contemporary actresses who one day might make a sensational subject for a biographer. That's not merely a sly reference to her relationships with Woody 'n Warren 'n Al but also a salute to her survival instincts. She doesn't have the same choice of roles she once did. She knows it and accepts it. That's the sure sign of a survivor.
No comments:
Post a Comment