CONSIDER THE PREMISE OF THIS FRENCH CANADIAN FILM; a buffoon sperm donor accidentally fathers 533 kids. Now, 144 of them are old enough to want to know their dad’s identity. The only information they have is his youthful alias, “Starbuck.”
This plot could have birthed sheer Adam Sandler stupidity. In fact, I’m worried – there’s going to be an American remake with Vince Vaughn. Why, when this one is so good? Because it’s French? Are American audiences that shallow?
Starbuck begins with a well-drawn, lovable idiot (Huard). He may grow pot in his crappy apartment. He may tool around town in his dad’s meat truck. He may owe mobsters $80,000. But, Starbuck has a gigantic heart.
So, it’s not surprising, especially since Starbuck has accidentally gotten girlfriend La Breton pregnant, that he’d try to sneakily get to know some of his offspring. Yes, he’s a bumbling moron who wants to be a hero, a guardian angel, to his unsuspecting kids. We’re not even surprised when it’s revealed how sweet, kind Starbuck used all that money from donating sperm over 600 times.
Some people would call this film mushy, soft and preposterous. Those are often just other terms for a “crowd-pleaser.” With its crowd of interesting kids and lovable dad, that’s exactly what Starbuck achieves.
Does the mobster angle seem flaccid? Yes. Are there some questions about how things transpire? Sure. But it’s nothing that halts the successful delivery of this foreign charmer.
BEAUTIFUL, SELF-IMPORTANT 42 FEELS THE NEED TO TELL YOU IT’S BASED ON A TRUE STORY.
This means, apparently, whole populations don’t know about Jackie Robinson (Boseman) – number 42 – the first black man in major league baseball. Branch Rickey (Ford) hired Robinson to play for the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1947. Robinson faced terrible discrimination on his team, in the stands and in the press. He, his wife, and newborn son had death threats.
This is all grand stuff, which is what obviously drew writer/director Brian Helgeland (L.A. Confidential). It also was his downfall. 42 is a bit square, full of bravado, replete with sepia-toned photography, slow-motion shots, and a booming score by Mark Isham. Characters are big and two-dimensional. Ford chews scenery along with his cigar, and Boseman remains upstanding and strong.
This isn’t really a complicated film. It’s a museum piece for the Baseball Hall of Fame. It’s a beautiful, uncomplicated history lesson for 12-year-olds. It’s a feel-good panacea.
Hollywood almost always does this when it makes a film about racism – like Oscar-winner Crash or that abysmal Tuskegee Airmen film Red Tails. Racism is more complex and sneakier than 42, and I suspect the real Robinson and Rickey were more interesting, too.
Maybe this film means to fool us into thinking we’ve finally conquered racism. Rendering our heroes so large and broad, however, is actually another form of stereotyping. We’re all smarter about racism than 42 thinks we are.
DIRECTOR DANNY BOYLE IS KNOWN FOR HIS KINETIC STYLE (Slumdog Millionaire, 127 Hours, Trainspotting). He always makes films that are alternately wonderful, gory, humorous and shocking, filled with memorable images. However, all that frenetic work can be a distraction if the story is already convoluted.
McAvoy is an art auctioneer who helps some master thieves led by Cassel to steal a famous painting. At the last minute, McAvoy pulls a double switch. Cassel bangs McAvoy on the head and the auctioneer forgets where he hid the painting. In order to jog his memory, the thieves hire hypnotist Dawson to help.
Already, by the plot description, Trance sounds like a stylish but light caper. The gimmick is that the injury and the hypnotist are screwing with McAvoy’s head. So, this gives director Boyle a long leash to screw around with the timeline, the visuals and other aspects.
None of this really helps tell a concise story. However, I think the goal here is to confuse us, to keep up in the dark. The problem is that we’re misled over and over. Characters act wildly inconsistent, and very smart people who hate each other – who know they’d be better off without each other – do stupid things.
In the end, Trance is not a masterpiece but a small pop trifle. It’s watchable because the actors are committed and Boyle is interesting. Otherwise, it’d be downright forgettable.
