Tue, June 15, 2004

I went to see Coffee and Cigarettes this weekend because there's very little else out right now that appeals to me. (I missed Mean Girls and Godsend, and The Whole Ten Yards and New York Minute are long gone. It's still a few weeks before Spider-Man 2 or Anchorman, or even Dodgeball.) I'll see The Terminal for sure next week, but this isn't next week. Not yet! Not for about another week!

I hadn't seen anything directed by Jim Jarmusch before, and I knew it would be different, but I thought it was worth a try. Why not experience something new? Well, I'm glad I did. However, this is decidedly not my type of movie. It breaks down into about ten little vignette scenes with various actors playing themselves. To me, these meant very little, but I didn't hate them or anything. I did, however, hate the audience I saw it with. (This usually happens.) They were idiots, and they knew they were idiots, and they tried to make up for it by pretending they were hip, smart, and clued in. (You can always tell people are morons when they emit that little gleeful chuckle of recognition when Steve Buscemi takes the screen. What is that? Is it "He's that indie guy! We know him, 'cause we're cool and we go to indie stuff"? Or is it "Heh. Dude. Wood chipper"?)

Since the film breaks down into smaller scenes, it feels like a damn good time to bring back ratings! Here's my take on the ones I still remember.

Steven Wright and Roberto Benigni

This odd scene opens the film. Wright and Benigni talk about basically nothing. I think the main point is that these two are generally impossible to understand and kind of crazy – which they are, and that's what's fun about them. Benigni ends up going to the dentist on Wright's behalf. It's just strange.

Tom Waits and Iggy Pop

Every time either musician says anything, the other takes it as some sort of argument. It's like one of those really interesting dialogue scenes in film where the two characters are carrying on completely separate conversations that just happen to overlap in time. I like Tom Waits a lot. He pretends that he's a doctor on the side. He's late joining Iggy because he had to deliver a baby and perform an emergency tracheotomy in a traffic accident. The conversation is impossible to follow, but it's fairly amusing in its ridiculousness. Waits proclaims that the best part about having quit smoking is that now he can have a cigarette from time to time, whenever he wants it. (Since he's quit, it's not like he has to smoke it. It's just for fun.) So, they both light up and keep talking about how great it is to be non-smokers.

Cate Blanchett and Cate Blanchett

This scene is interesting and well photographed. It's surprising that Blanchett plays two parts together (herself and her cousin), because up to now the film has been a lot of long two-shots, and there's just no way to hold that up with split-screen. So, it feels somewhat disjointed that there are so many more medium shots, cutting back and forth from Blanchett to her "cousin," but it's a fairly fun scene. Blanchett manages to hold her own in the few extended two-shots, maintaining the timing over some fairly long takes (presumably with the help of a script supervisor). From the look of it, Jarmusch shot the cousin against a green or black screen and superimposed her instead of going with the traditional split screen. Possibly in order to avoid the problem of the smoke crossing the split line. Anyway, unfortunate choice. She looks more "cut out" this way, because there's no blurring when her hand crosses in front of the screen. Cute enough scene, though. Blanchett as herself looks really great in a trim skirt and blazer ensemble in black and white. And, while thinking, she does a little thing with her jaw which made me want to run right home and pop in the Bandits DVD for that scene where she talks about her first kiss with her husband.

Jack and Meg White

(Of the White Stripes)
This is meant to be the quirky indie-film scene in which a surreal atmosphere is generated by unusual juxtaposition. (Think Living in Oblivion. DiCillo's a DP on this film, as it happens.) Young hipster rockers talk about a Tesla coil, which Jack has built, and the punch line is that Meg and the guy sweeping the floor know as much about it as he does. I like a few White Stripes songs, but I'm generally made uneasy by people who spend so much time trying to look cool.

Alfred Molina and Steve Coogan

This is the part of the movie where a couple of people in the audience – people who no doubt work in very low levels of the entertainment industry and fancy themselves "hip" to insider industry humor – make a good scene into a stupid scene. In the piece, Alfred Molina has commissioned a meeting with Steve Coogan in order to tell him that he has discovered that they are distant cousins. Coogan is aloof about this and generally looks down at Molina – then at the end there's a reversal when he realizes that Molina is friends with indie wonderboy Spike Jonze, and he attempts to reattach himself to Molina.

What the scene is about:
Here is Alfred Molina, who is a successful and respected actor. Recently, he's won acclaim for his portrayal of Diego Rivera in Frida and been heralded in "The Fiddler on the Roof" on Broadway. He began his career by garnering the attention of no less than Steven Spielberg for the part of Satipo at the beginning of Raiders of the Lost Ark. The humor comes from two things: his over-excitement about having discovered this genealogical surprise, and Coogan's dismissive attitude because he thinks he's better than Molina since he's getting some hot buzz right now. (Apparently, headlining Around the World in 80 Days with Jackie Chan and a drag-queen glam Arnold Schwarzenegger is "hot buzz.") Coogan and his assistant (by cell phone) treat Molina like dirt, while Molina is politely praising Coogan's work and making nice conversation. Coogan's star is rising, so he misreads Molina as another in his recent series of sycophants. He's quite humorous as he falls over himself making up lies to extract himself from becoming cousin-buddies with Molina. It's even funnier because he realizes that Molina has connections (Surprise! Just because Bram and Alice wasn't great doesn't mean he hasn't had a successful 25-year career as an actor!) and then tries to ingratiate himself.

What the dumbshits think it's about:
Alfred Molina is an old washed-up has-been who can't even carry a dumb sitcom on CBS. Steve Coogan is the awesomefantastic star of 24 Hour Party People, which is cool because it was shot handheld and has lots of flashy lights in it. Molina is a dumb loser who hopes to cash in on Coogan's fame by digging up some possibly falsified genealogical link and asking if they can hang out. He gushes over Coogan as a way of trying to get on his good side. Coogan has barely heard of this coot and wants nothing to do with him, so he makes a lot of quick excuses to try to leave, then has to try to turn it around when he realizes that Molina might be useful to him.

So, these idiots laugh really loud at all the wrong parts of the scene, as a way of proving to themselves that they "get" the joke that Molina is over 30 and therefore useless in Hollywood. Why should they know who Molina is? He's not hot! He has no career! (Apparently they're unaware that he's the only grown-up above the title of this summer's most powerful blockbuster.) This is not a laugh-out-loud scene, nor a laugh-out-loud movie. (I laughed once, when Bill Murray started gagging, because it's Bill Murray and it's a funny moment.) This scene is amusing and entertaining, but it specifically isn't riotous, and I really detest the practice of laughing hard just to prove that you're "in." Especially here, where they aren't. Jarmusch knows who Molina is. He knows he's a great actor. He's not making fun of Molina's career in the first half of this scene. Coogan gets it, too; he's portraying the young actor who has no respect or understanding for the established masters of the craft. The flitty young girl who approaches and wants Coogan's autograph while ignoring Molina doesn't represent reality; she represents the Coogan character's view of his current worth in comparison to Molina. The butt of the joke is the ignorant youngster who thinks Molina is a nobody – ironically, just like the ignorant fuckwads in the audience.

Bill Murray and part of Wu Tang Clan

The two rappers are hanging out, discussing the evils of caffeine. One of them is a homeopathic healer on the side. (A callback to the Tom Waits thing.) Bill Murray shows up in an apron and paper fry-cook hat and carrying a big pot of coffee. The rappers explain how bad it is for him, and he asks them not to tell anybody that he's there. He smokes a little and coughs a lot. They tell him to gargle with hydrogen peroxide and oven cleaner and then they leave. The scene ends with him gargling and gagging off-screen. Nothing really happens, and nothing makes any sense. (Wow, maybe Garfield was a smart choice, after all.)

A couple of old dudes

This is very sweet, and probably the most emotional piece in the film. For the first time, the black and white photography is more than just a crutch to seem "artistic" – it really shows the character in these actors' faces as they carry on a soft discussion about life and music. There is an unnecessary callback to the Tesla thing.

Overall

I didn't specifically dislike it, but the film failed to say... anything really. With all the celebrities playing themselves and some of them talking about celebrity things, I suppose it could be some sort of exploration of fame, but it really didn't say anything about that either. The worst episodes of Dinner for Five are more interesting and engaging. It was amusing in parts, which I appreciated, but it was "hanging around with friends" amusing (appropriate, since the characters were hanging around) and the laughter of those who thought it was "subtle and incisive social insight" amusing kind of worked against that.

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