 |
"He can't handle the truth!" Tom Cruise takes on The Firm. We lose. |
Adapted from a best-selling novel by John Grisham at the
height of his airport-novel flogging days, The Firm is bought to the
screen by Sydney Pollack. And what a complete dog’s dinner he makes of it. The
Firm is a dreadful film: long, slow and dull with a plot that stretches
right through elaborate and comes out the other side as confusing. By the time
Mitch is tearing through Memphis, briefcase flapping behind him, you’ll have
long-since ceased caring about anything involved in the film at all. Because
for a film of such great length, very little seems to happen in it – and what
little does happen is wrapped up in a mixture of legalese and curiously
flat chase sequences.
Cruise plays Mitch at his most gung-ho, cocky, shit-eating
grinnish. He’s preppy, super-smart, arrogant but also loyal, brave and
principled. Aside from a brief temptation by money – and that because he wants
the best for his family! – and of course a dalliance with a honey-trap on a
beach (but it was a set-up, so not his fault!), he’s practically perfect in
every way. He’s even a decent athlete, playfully taking part in back-flipping
competitions with a break-dancing pre-teen busker (one of the most clumsy and
bizarre introductions of a Chekov’s skill in the movies).
To put it bluntly, Mitch is an irritating character and
watching him (very slowly) decide to do the right thing doesn’t make gripping
viewing. Around him a host of experienced character actors do their thing, none
of them stretching themselves. Tripplehorn does her best with the thankless
part of “wife”, though she does at least get to do something a little proactive
at the end. Hackman grins and coasts as Cruise’s mentor with the lost
conscience. Hunter pouts and wisecracks (Oscar-nominated) as Grisham’s twist on
an Eve-Ardenish secretary. Holbrook and Brimley scowl behind smiles as high-ups
at the Firm. Harris shouts a lot as a permanently angry FBI agent with a heart
of gold. Sorvino breaks out his Mob Boss 101.
Pollack marshals all these forces together with minimal
effort and then ticks the boxes of all Grisham-cliches. The only thing missing are
some courtroom dynamics, but we get the next best thing with wee-Tommy playing
the FBI, the Mafia and the Firm off against each other in a desperate attempt
to stay one step ahead of the game. I can’t stress enough how turgid and dull
this film is. However scintillating you feel the set-up you might be, as the
film clocks into the second hour (with 30 minutes still to go), you’ll be
amazed how little sense of peril or threat there is.
There is nothing sharp, pointed or pacey about this film.
“It has to happen fast” Tom announces at one point, as he kicks his impenetrable
plan into gear. “Good luck in this film” my wife commented. She’s spot-on.
Pollack fails to bring any sense of pace or peril to the film. For all we are
repeatedly told Cruise’s life is at risk, it never really feels like it.
A big part of this massive failure is the terrible musical
score that covers every single second of the film. Provided by an
Oscar-nominated Dave Grusin (beating out Michael Nyman’s score for The Piano
from even being nominated, one of the most inexplicable oversights at the
Oscars from the 90s), every single second of the film is overlaid with a
plinky-plonky piano score that would not sound out of place in a second-rate
jazz bar or a hotel lift. Rather than bring you to edge of your seat, the score
actually makes you feel like you should be resting back in it with a large
cocktail in hand and a fuzzy sense of upcoming sleepiness clouding your brain.
Which to be honest might work: pissed and half-asleep is probably the only way
to get anything from the movie.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.