Movie report: The Monuments Men
There are good
movies and there are bad movies. And then there are movies that make you want
to re-write and re-shoot the entire thing. “The Monuments Men” is one of those
movies.
On paper, this
movie must have looked like a sure-fire hit. During the chaos and destruction
of World War 2 in Europe, a bunch of guys are trying to save precious works of
art that the Nazis are systematically looting or destroying. Great premise,
right? It’s like a reverse caper film. Plus, it has Nazis!
Not only that,
it has a terrific cast: George Clooney, Matt Damon, Bill Murray, John Goodman,
and Cate Blanchett!
And it has
terrific big production values. Lots of battle scenes. Big armies. Tanks.
Explosions. Everything you look for in a war movie.
But, my gosh,
the writing is awful. Nonsensical. Vague. Cryptic. Huh-inducing. And the
directing. Jeez. Scenes don’t really end. They just sort of meander around and
get lost.
There’s one
scene where two of the guys are a leetle too close to the front, and a
machine-gun-wielding Nazi gets the drop on them. Somehow, the scene ends with
the two just fine, the Nazi presumably just fine, not a shot fired, nothing. As
if they all just said, Well, we’re done here, let’s move on to the next scene. My
reaction: oh.
There’s a
scene where Bill Murray, an older guy risking death in the middle of nowhere on
Christmas, receives a record of his daughter singing a Christmas song to him.
And he listens. And she sings. And he listens. And she sings. And he listens.
And she sings. And the scene ends. My reaction: oh.
There’s a
scene where George Clooney is interrogating a Nazi officer – who’s been looting
and destroying art all along – after Germany surrenders. I’m not sure why. At
this point, they’ve found everything they’re going to find. Maybe he wants to
needle the Nazi about how he’s failed. I would. And Clooney has this big speech
about how in a few months or years he, Clooney, will be sitting in his favorite
deli in NYC eating a bagel and he, Clooney, will read in the newspaper about
how he, the Nazi, was hung for war crimes. And the Nazi has no reaction
whatever. And George Clooney has no reaction whatever. End of scene. My
reaction: oh.
There’s a
scene – but I could do this all day. The only relief to this pattern of poorly
written, poorly directed scenes is Cate Blanchett, who is terrific. She is
approaching the point of Can Do No Wrong, in my book. Her scenes are great. Not
that they are written any better than the others. But her presence has an
intensity and a reality that the rest of the movie lacks. We feel the war more
in her stoically defiant expression than in any of the explosions or actual gun
battles.
I dutifully
sat through this movie, thankfully not in a theater but at home, expecting it
to become the movie it could have been, but it never did. At the end, I was
intensely curious to see who wrote and directed it – or should I say, mis-wrote
and mis-directed it. The answer: George Clooney.
My reaction:
oh.
Recommendation:
For an object lesson in how NOT to write and direct a movie, this is a
textbook. For actual entertainment, I’d go with a stick in the eye.
Comments