Babylon (3/10)
by Tony Medley
190 minutes
R
Beware when you see
that a film is “written and directed” by the same person, as this one is
by Damien Chazelle. It’s human nature that a writer doesn’t want
anything s/he’s written to be removed from the film. So how can a
director excise something that director has written?
This is a prime
example. Although there really isn’t a plot, what plot there is
certainly can be told in half the time. This film needed an independent
director or a much better editor or some hands-on producers to
ruthlessly apply the scissors.
The first hour is, in a
word, atrocious. It’s convoluted, meaningless (except to show rampant
debauchery and to flash some bare breasts), if not ridiculous. Worse,
the sound is horrendous. It’s not only far too loud (the opening
approximately half hour is almost enough to deafen hapless viewers) but
also muffled and difficult to comprehend the dialogue, although maybe
that’s a blessing.
Apparently, Chazelle is trying to tell a story
of depravity in early Hollywood and the change in Hollywood from silent
to sound (gadzooks; what a novel idea! It’s only been done countless
times).
After 60 painful
minutes it picks up a little. There is one good bit about reshooting a
scene over and over before they can get the sound correct, but even that
is overblown. Constant retakes are part of the biz.
Brad Pitt is the star,
but his bland performance is less than tantalizing. Diego Calva gives a
good performance but the person who steals the picture is Margot Robbie.
The film only shows life when she and Jean Smart, infra, are onscreen.
I’m not sure why they
named 70-year-old Jean Smart’s character Elinor St. John. That must be
some sort of reference to Adela Rogers St. John who was a screenwriter
and reporter who wrote classic Hollywood interviews in the ‘20s and
‘30s, but was in her 30s during the period covered by this film. As an
aside not relevant to this movie, her fascinating. biography of her Los
Angeles Attorney father, Earl Rogers, Final Verdict, is a book
that captures a lot more accurately the life in early Los Angeles than
this bloated orgiastic phantasmagoria. Be that as it may, Smart’s
performance is right up there with Robbie’s as the best parts of the
film. Alas, too little to save this turkey.
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