| The
Review: |
There are so many things wrong with
John Byrum's adaptation of W. Somerset Maugham's "The Razor's
Edge" that it's hard to find a starting point. This is one
of those rare gems that makes you question the sanity of Hollywood
producers: who in their right state of mind would even conceive
of putting such idiotic drivel onto celluloid, much less put
it into words for a screenplay? *** ***
The elements of filmmaking that
come into play here set an all-time low in the "Waste of Time"
department: the cinematography is nothing more than a blatantly
flat attempt to mask the inept efforts of the creators to
instill any interest in their material, which is so ridiculously
muddled and sloppy that you're left with the feeling that
your brain has been turned into compost. Director/co-writer
Byrum and co-writer Bill Murray, who also stars in the movie,
have fashioned a great big fat sprawling piece of smelly excrement
that serves no other purpose than to waste two hours of one's
time and drain away precious brain cells as they later ponder
what made them decide to even consider this film as possible
entertainment. *** ***
Murray plays Larry Darrrell, a
simple American man who lives in a small town where he enjoys
the comfort of his friends and his true love, Isabel (Catherine
Hicks). At a time when America was as yet not a part of World
War I but offered aid and assistance to France and England,
Larry volunteers to take part in the war effort and be shipped
overseas to drive an ambulance with his friend, Gray (James
Keach). *** ***
So the two venture into another
country where they will witness various instances of ludicrous
insanity on the part of their commander (Brian Doyle-Murray),
who likes to shoot things and spout war gibberish about imbeciles
on the battle field not being missed by their comrads. The
scenes of battle seen in this section of the film are so silly
and stagey that they lose any and all impact; where we should
feel a sense of urgency connected with these life-changing
events, we only feel boredom and listlessness. *** ***
But of course all of this is supposedly
of great effect on our Larry, who returns home a broken man
of few words and many burdens, or so the script would have
us believe. He puts off the marraige to Isabel in favor of
returning to France to explore his inner feelings; before
we are even given the chance to witness a change in him, Isabel
herself arrives in France, deciding that she is willing to
give up her uppercrust lifestyle to be with him, though the
thought of a hole in the floor serving as a lavatory quickly
changes her mind. Larry, however, is unwilling to return home
with her; instead, he later decides to take a trip to the
Himalayas, where he hopes to find out more about himself.
*** ***
And from this point on, the material
just keeps getting worse. We're not lucky enough to be watching
one of those movies where things improve as they develop,
oh no: once they hit rock-bottom, they just keep digging.
The plot brings into the spotlight a supporting character
from earlier in the film, Sophie (Theresa Russell), who returns
to the material an emotionally bruised widow and grieving
mother after her husband and son are killed in a car wreck.
We've spent so little time exploring the regions of her mind,
her marraige, or her life in general, that her outbursts of
depression and angst against God are obsolete and meaningless.
*** ***
In addition to this, Larry explores
himself through his experiences with the people of the Himalayas,
and returns to France still searching. He does, however, manage
to find himself in the arms of Sophie, who has now taken up
prostitution and is now the target of Isabel's jelousy because
of unresolved feelings for Larry. Oh, the melodrama. Someone
please give me a Handi-Wipe for my brain. *** ***
Will Larry ever find himself? Who
knows? And better yet, who really gives a damn? Murray and
Byrum, in writing their flaccid script, have stripped the
material of any emotional resonance or energy, thus rendering
their efforts completely hopeless in all other fields. The
plot takes so many ludicrous and misshapen turns that it quickly
grows tiresome, and there is this tidal wave of saccharine,
melodramatic, sob-story-esque dilly-dally that is so laughably
horrid it has to be seen to be believed. I can't even recommend
the movie on its visual wonders; all I can offer is my contempt
over the sheer waste of beautiful photography on such an undeserving
story. *** ***
The two main problems with this
film are the characters and the actors who play them. Each
of these people have no emotional bearing whatsoever: not
once do we get the impression that we should possess deep
thoughts for their situations. We cannot even come to grasp
the reality of Larry's personal explorations, and this is
attributed largely to Bill Murray's one-note performance,
that deadpan expression he makes his trademark finding a rather
uncomfortable home here. Russell gives a flat performance
as Sophie, providing no incite into her character's emotional
loss and turmoil, and Hicks, well, let's just say that a scene
in the final moments in which she reacts to the death of a
dear friend should prove just how hammy her acting can be.***
***
This is a most uncomfortable and
pointless experience, one that makes its viewers wish they
had their own razor's edge so as to extract their eyeballs
before experiencing any further pain inflicted by this film.
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