One surefire way to sound like a snooty film critic is to gripe about the summer’s movies, an activity that’s become as redundant as bemoaning the lack of spontaneity at political conventions.
But there are bad summers, and then there are bad summers.
Sure, last summer featured such duds as “Wild Wild West,” “The Haunting,” “Inspector Gadget” and “Detroit Rock City,” but at any point the movie pages still offered a reasonable selection of worthy films: “Notting Hill” and “South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut” early in the season (and some would include “Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me” and “Star Wars: Episode I — The Phantom Menace”); “The Sixth Sense” and “The Blair Witch Project” later on; “Tarzan” for the kiddies; and “Run Lola Run,” “The Buena Vista Social Club” and “The Red Violin” on the art-house side.
This season I’ve repeatedly been asked what must-see movies are in the theaters, and I’ve drawn a blank. Let’s see . . . “Shanghai Noon” was a quirkily endearing Jackie Chan comedy, though he can’t kick as high as he used to; “Chicken Run” was a fun family film, though the consensus is the filmmakers’ “Wallace & Gromit” shorts are superior; I laughed during the Farrelly Brothers’ “Me, Myself & Irene,” though most agree it’s a disappointing follow-up to “There’s Something About Mary”; “X-Men” was a relatively thoughtful superhero film, though it seemed to evaporate toward the end; “The Adventures of Rocky & Bullwinkle” wasn’t nearly as bad as it looked, though almost no one cared enough to find out for themselves.
The selection was better in the specialty theaters, though the biggest sleeper hit, Mike Hodges’ noirish “Croupier,” actually resulted from the movie’s relaunch after it fizzled in April. Other indies enjoying some critical and/or popular success included Istvan Szabo’s three-hour epic “Sunshine,” Aviva Kempner’s documentary “The Life and Times of Hank Greenberg,” Miguel Arteta’s provocative “Chuck & Buck,” and Patrice Leconte’s darkly romantic “Girl on the Bridge,” but none of them crossed over like last summer’s art hits did.
Some encouraging news was that black-oriented comedies and action films firmly established their broad drawing power at the box office. Director Keenen Ivory Wayans delivered Miramax’s all-time top grosser with “Scary Movie,” Spike Lee scored his career-best opening with “The Original Kings of Comedy,” Martin Lawrence broke the $100 million mark with “Big Momma’s House,” and 51-year-old Samuel L. Jackson became an action star in John Singleton’s “Shaft.” Still, there’s not an artistic breakthrough among them.
This summer’s biggest winner may be Universal Pictures, not because the studio released quality summer films — au contraire, it was responsible for the crass “Nutty Professor II: The Klumps,” the mishandled “Rocky & Bullwinkle” and the just-released, poorly reviewed “Bring It On” — but because its March release, “Erin Brockovich,” still stands as the year’s only credible Best Picture nominee. (Some are making the case for “Gladiator,” released at the beginning of May, but I’m not biting.)
Is the summer of 2000 the worst in recent memory?
I wouldn’t argue “no.”
Put it this way: How many of the summer’s movies did you just love? Are you counting the days till “The Perfect Storm” is out on video? How about “The Patriot” or “Gone in Sixty Seconds”? “M:I-2”? “The Cell”?
Please.
We all agree that last summer was better, right? Even in the raunchy comedy category, who wouldn’t take “South Park” and “American Pie” over “Scary Movie” and “Road Trip”?
As for 1998, the most-hyped movies were vacuous (“Godzilla,” “Armageddon”), but that summer also offered “The Truman Show,” “There’s Something About Mary,” “Saving Private Ryan,” “Out of Sight” and “Bulworth.”
Amid the flotsam of 1997’s summer (“Batman and Robin,” “Speed 2: Cruise Control”) were “Men in Black,” “Face/Off,” “My Best Friend’s Wedding,” “Contact,” “Ulee’s Gold,” “Mrs. Brown” and “The Full Monty.”
The summer of 1996 may pose the biggest challenge to 2000’s dubious honor. The Hollywood slate was woeful — with “Independence Day” seizing the box-office crown — yet the first “Mission: Impossible” was no less entertaining than the new one, “The Nutty Professor” was far superior to its sequel, “Courage Under Fire” and “A Time To Kill” were credible mainstream dramas, and “Kingpin” honed the Farrelly Brothers’ gag reflexes. Still, what saved that summer were the indies, led by “Lone Star,” “Trainspotting” and “Welcome to the Dollhouse.”
Even 1995, the summer of “Judge Dredd” and “Johnny Mnemonic,” delivered “Babe,” “Braveheart,” “Apollo 13,” “Clueless,” “The Bridges of Madison County,” “Something to Talk About” and “Safe.”
The film business is cyclical, so this summer’s paucity of keepers could be deemed a fluke. Yet a thread ran through too much of the season’s roster to be a coincidence: These movies hedge their bets. A $100 million box-office gross used to constitute a smash; given the current filmmaking and marketing budgets, now it’s often the threshold for breaking even. With such big numbers required to put a movie in the black, you can sense studios and filmmakers basing artistic decisions on the impulse to protect their investments rather than the desire to tell a fully satisfying story.
Why else would “The Patriot” veer from its strong beginning to pander to those seeking a Mel Gibson revenge flick? Why else would “The Perfect Storm” be so waterlogged with cliches and drippy music when its director, Wolfgang Peterson, previously has shown how vividly he could render sea tension in “Das Boot”?
Why else would a smart filmmaker like Robert Zemeckis end his Hitchcockian thriller “What Lies Beneath” with a series of “Double Jeopardy”-level killer-who-won’t-die chases? Why else would a skilled if not-as-smart filmmaker like Paul Verhoeven also rely on killer-who-won’t-die battles to bring his invisible-man story, “Hollow Man,” to its depressingly bloody finale?
Even Clint Eastwood’s “Space Cowboys,” which has demonstrated that audiences will turn out to see older actors in a well-made adventure, is compromised by cutesy, skin-deep characterizations designed not to get in the way of its by-the-numbers plotting.
Complain all you want about Stanley Kubrick’s “Eyes Wide Shut”; at least that 1999 summer release reflected a distinctive vision. Where are the personal imprints among this summer’s crop? Even a stylish movie like Tarsem Singh’s “The Cell” is all dressed up with nothing to say.
The lesson of 1999 supposedly was that audiences will support more personal, daring filmmaking if the results are as satisfying as M. Night Shyamalan’s “The Sixth Sense” and Sam Mendes’ “American Beauty.” Perhaps the fall lineup will reflect increased studio willingness to support idiosyncratic storytelling, but if the summer is any indication, those 1999 movies were the flukes.
Not that such conservative thinking has helped the studios. Through last Sunday, this summer’s box office is down 3 1/2 percent compared to last year. The number of hits hasn’t changed as much as how long they’ve been able to hang on in the theaters; the blockbusters have been opening big — thanks to aggressive marketing — and then dipping more drastically than ever — thanks to poor word of mouth and lack of repeat business.
Audiences are savvy enough to know when they’re being fed processed product. They may enjoy a well-engineered amusement park ride, but they’ll only fall in love with a movie with a flesh-and-blood ticker beating beneath its chest.
The most quoted statement about Hollywood is screenwriter William Goldman’s observation “Nobody knows anything.”
Perhaps that should be amended to: Nobody learns anything.
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E-mail: mcaro@tribune.com
