On DVD. 126 minutes.
The so-called “Superman curse” goes back to this story of the original TV Superman George Reeves and his untimely death in 1959. Ostensibly, it is the nature of his death, precipitated by a shot to the temple at close range, with which Hollywoodland is dealing. Ruled a suicide by the police, there are enough unanswered questions and possible perps to fuel several conspiracy theories. But the real gas firing this mystery is our inability to separate actors from the parts they play—to believe the man of steel could succumb to a piece of lead shot from his own hand.
Ben Affleck has rarely been better than here as George Reeves. Once a respected film actor, he is reduced to taking the black-and-white kiddie Superman show for the bucks. His lover Toni Mannix (Diane Lane), herself ten years his senior, is the wife of still older studio exec Eddie Mannix. The assumption is that Toni will be able to move Reeves back to some respectable projects. It’s not obvious whether she won’t or can’t, but the better films don’t come. Showered with a house, money, and gifts, George is a kept man. Determined to move into directing and producing, he throws out a feeler in NYC and, while there, has a fling with a gold-digging wannabe starlet that morphs into an engagement. But he’s got no gold to dig and that revelation, along with his jilted lover and her husband’s odd sense of duty lead to plenty with an interest in seeing Reeves dead. Tragically, in a nation in love with Superman, there’s no one with an interest in keeping him alive.
Adrian Brody is Lois Simo, a private eye with delusions of fame himself, hired by Reeves’ mother to look into the case. Divorced and with a son struggling to understand his matinee idol’s suicide, Simo’s concern is getting his picture in the paper and keeping the doubts alive long enough to line up his next case. Brody is solid if not spectacular in the part that fifteen years ago would have gone to Bruce Willis. Diane Lane continues to be a template on how to age in Hollywood. Without noticeable work or botox, she lets us see every wrinkle in a film shot in unflattering muted colors and black-and-white. She is still sexy and stunning enough that we believe she can attract a younger man even as we know she’ll never be able to keep him. But this film is notable for Affleck. He nails Reeves. Still charming and good-looking, he’s grown tired. It’s in his eyes, his walk, his smile. If it is suicide, it’s not from depression. He sees a way out. He’s just too tired to make it happen.
Ultimately this film wants to be about the American obsession with TV and movie stars. In a culture that denies itself a religion with sculpted idols, celluloid feels that void. We’re just not sure what to do when they die. Unfortunately, this theme has been covered too many times before, and Hollywoodland brings nothing new to the table. It’s a shame the film doesn’t spend more time on what it actually has going for it: the mysterious death of the one unabashed, unvarnished Christ-figure in popular culture. Superman. What happens to our faith and our entertainment when our religious figures and our celluloid idols become one and the same? And what do we do when they die and can’t be resurrected? B-
Ben Affleck has rarely been better than here as George Reeves. Once a respected film actor, he is reduced to taking the black-and-white kiddie Superman show for the bucks. His lover Toni Mannix (Diane Lane), herself ten years his senior, is the wife of still older studio exec Eddie Mannix. The assumption is that Toni will be able to move Reeves back to some respectable projects. It’s not obvious whether she won’t or can’t, but the better films don’t come. Showered with a house, money, and gifts, George is a kept man. Determined to move into directing and producing, he throws out a feeler in NYC and, while there, has a fling with a gold-digging wannabe starlet that morphs into an engagement. But he’s got no gold to dig and that revelation, along with his jilted lover and her husband’s odd sense of duty lead to plenty with an interest in seeing Reeves dead. Tragically, in a nation in love with Superman, there’s no one with an interest in keeping him alive.
Adrian Brody is Lois Simo, a private eye with delusions of fame himself, hired by Reeves’ mother to look into the case. Divorced and with a son struggling to understand his matinee idol’s suicide, Simo’s concern is getting his picture in the paper and keeping the doubts alive long enough to line up his next case. Brody is solid if not spectacular in the part that fifteen years ago would have gone to Bruce Willis. Diane Lane continues to be a template on how to age in Hollywood. Without noticeable work or botox, she lets us see every wrinkle in a film shot in unflattering muted colors and black-and-white. She is still sexy and stunning enough that we believe she can attract a younger man even as we know she’ll never be able to keep him. But this film is notable for Affleck. He nails Reeves. Still charming and good-looking, he’s grown tired. It’s in his eyes, his walk, his smile. If it is suicide, it’s not from depression. He sees a way out. He’s just too tired to make it happen.
Ultimately this film wants to be about the American obsession with TV and movie stars. In a culture that denies itself a religion with sculpted idols, celluloid feels that void. We’re just not sure what to do when they die. Unfortunately, this theme has been covered too many times before, and Hollywoodland brings nothing new to the table. It’s a shame the film doesn’t spend more time on what it actually has going for it: the mysterious death of the one unabashed, unvarnished Christ-figure in popular culture. Superman. What happens to our faith and our entertainment when our religious figures and our celluloid idols become one and the same? And what do we do when they die and can’t be resurrected? B-
1 comment:
Netflix finally sent this to me. It's better than the similarly themed Black Dahlia in no small part due to an excellent Ben Affleck. He has postponed a direct-to-video career another 2 years.
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