Emilio Estevez has come a long way from his butt in the moonlight walk in National Lampoon s Loaded Weapon 1 (which if you ve a) not seen, or b) seen and hated, then you should a) watch it it s on Channel 5 about five times a day, or b) leave this web site immediately as it is clear you have no soul and I do not wish to write for you anymore).
Sorry, where was I? Oh yes Emilio has come a long way.
He s not only written and directed Bobby, he s also roped in a drillion stars to be in it. We ve got, among others, Anthony Hopkins, Helen Hunt, Laurence Fishburne, Heather Graham, Joshua Jackson, Lindsey Lohan, William H. Macy, Demi Moore, (deep breath), Martin Sheen, Christian Slater, Sharon Stone, Elijah Wood.
Basically I could write an entire review just listing the cast, but that isn t overly interesting so I ll stop.
With such an ensemble you run the risk of a Me! Me!
No, me! effect, with a dozen egos battling for attention. And though everyone gets a turn to do a spot of acting, Emilio keeps them all in check so we get good performances rather than anything you can act, I can act better stand-offs.
The first few minutes of the film are taken up with thoughts along the lines of there s whats-his-face, is that one Stone? There s the hobbit, it s Pacey from Dawson s Creek! But after the novelty factor of star spotting subsides, what are you left with?
Well, the film focuses in on the inhabitants of the Ambassador Hotel on June 6th, 1968 the day that Robert F. Kennedy was killed. We get to dip in and out of various lives, be they kitchen staff, switchboard girls, managers, hotel guests or people working on Kennedy s election team.
With so many characters it s impossible to get an in-depth view into their lives, but ultimately they serve only to bring up some whoppingly relevant issues.
I know, I know. I always go on about issues and themes.
But when it s the point of a film you have to note them. Otherwise you d look at this as a simple story about Bobby s assassination and you d say it s crap you barely see him and what s the point of everyone else? But let s taking a running stab at what s going on here.
First off there s the big one: this is 60 s America suffering from violence, racism, poverty, environmental issues and a war with obscure reasons causing the deaths of thousands. Um, familiar-much? Kennedy was cited as the solution to many of these problems, and his death packs an unpleasant punch when you look at the state of the world today.
But float away from the political and there are some other neat little ideas going on. Our celebrity-obsessed nation is mirrored perfectly. We ve got a drunkard famous singer talking to her dowdy hairdresser about the short shelf-life of women.
Who s playing them? Demi Moore and Sharon Stone, who are both superb, and both in their forties. They could ve written that piece themselves no doubt.
There s also Helen Hunt obsessing over her appearance, stressing that her shoes aren t right and people are going to notice. I couldn t help but think of the circle of shame in crappy celebrity magazines. By using such a well-known cast, these thoughts are given more resonance.
Clever Emilio.
There are a few moments where Bobby wavers dangerously into Crash oh look at me pointing out things really obvious I m so clever and brilliant and lazy territory, and perhaps there are one too many monologues or touching moments involving bloody sports (hurray my team s winning, my entire life troubles are now solved as I smile gleefully like the simple sports-fan that I am). There s also an unnecessary acid-trip with Ashton Kutcher that is almost embarrassingly trite.
But Bobby washes over all the flaws with its final act, building into an emotional and affecting finish, and a clever mix of footage from past and present. The risk with multiple-character plots is the loss of real empathy with the characters because there re too many, but Bobby pulls it off by combining everything into a thought-provoking issue-riddled collage. I m giving it one point for the nicely handled pace and clever use of stars, and another for matching past situations with present to create an affecting piece of film.
So Bobby leaps in with CF2.
I don t like Bond. As a franchise it s dumb.
Dumb action films aimed at blokes. They objectify women, have rubbish puns, laughably silly baddies, an impossibly-good-at-everything lead and there s always a winter chase on weird jet powered skis. It s paint-by-numbers entertainment for easily pleased (some might say simple ) minds.
Like I said, it s aimed at blokes.
Anyway, the new Bond had words like dark , violent and realistic attached to it. They ve changed the franchise, Batman Begins style, and I was curious to see the results.
Spurred on by my MI:3 fun, I pushed past the crowds and faced my Bond hatred head-on. And it wasn t half bad. By that I mean half of it wasn t bad.
This is a grittier, nastier Bond to the fancy pants smarmy-arse of recent times. The grainy opening battle in the close confines of a toilet cubicle sets the tone. Fights are brutal, angry, bloody.
They re also flamboyant in places, but in less of a silly surfing on a car way and more like leaping over cranes excitement. There are so many different action pieces I can t actually remember them all. But I never once rolled my eyes at some unbelievable stunt, so that s a good sign.
And Daniel Craig. My God. There was this big hoo-har about how you can t have a blonde Bond, Craig s not handsome enough, it ll never work.
To that I say Bond is fictional, get over it. And I ll now add have you seen him? I mean, like, actually seen him?
Because if you have, you ll know. Craig IS Bond. He has the effortless charm, the sly little smile, the CGI-blue eyes (come on, no one s eyes can be that blue).
And he certainly has the right physique. Bond is a trained killer, after all, and Craig looks like he could very easily kill you. With his big biceps.
Lovely big biceps. And he gets stabbed a bit in his smooth, hard stomach. And is naked during a torture scene.
Quite frankly, I am now in love with Daniel Craig, and anyone who dares say he isn t handsome enough will face my wrath.
Crazy fans of Bond might throw their hands up in rage. They can t change Bond like that!
It s an institution! But despite the darker edges, this is still very much a Bond flick. Women are still around as sexual objects or whimpering idiots.
The baddy is the most ludicrously evil-looking baddy ever, sporting a Dr. Evil style eye scar and weeping, yes, actually weeping blood. There are fast cars and nice clothes and glamorous locations.
It s still Bond. Just better. This Bond is human.
He s arrogant, makes mistakes, gets hurt and has lovely thighs.
But as I said before, only half of this film is good. Unfortunately it loses its thrilling impact because it goes on for EVER.
At 144 mins (still not the 150 mins of Shit Pirates of the Shit-ibbean) the novelty begins to wear thin, especially as the films ends and then has twenty minutes of naff romance. I know exactly why this was (to show why Bond is like he is, bless him) but there was no need to drag it out for that long and in that way. It s such a shame, because I was really enjoying this film.
But rather than leave the cinema with that excited rush, I instead left a bit annoyed and bored.
Bond gets a point for roughing up the franchise and bringing a better, tougher Bond to the screen. It gets another point because I am in love with Daniel Craig.
But it loses a point for getting carried away with itself and going on and on and on. So Bond marches in with CF1.
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