“Punch Drunk Love” New Line/Revolution 4
Paws
This is not “Boogie Nights” or “Billy
Madison.” But P. T. Anderson’s latest film combines
aspects of his style with Adam Sandler’s presence as both a
comic, and yes, dramatic actor. The film’s greatest feat is
how Anderson has taken Sandler’s persona and turned it into
something that is all-at-once and not-at-all itself. With
Anderson’s magic wand, the wooden puppet Sandler of such
goofball films as “Happy Gilmore” has at last turned
into a real boy. Sandler plays Barry Egan. He has seven sisters,
who drive him mad. He’s not happy. He punches things. One of
Egan’s sisters fixes him up with Lena, played by Emily
Watson. Their chemistry is subtle and lends realism to a plot that
survives on the strengths of Anderson’s actors. The film is
about falling in love, which Anderson has not taken on until now.
Yet the greatest merit of Anderson’s latest is how he uses
color and sound to force audiences into the center of Egan’s
world. Anderson not only delivers a tale starring this
generation’s Everyman, he lets audiences share his
experience. -Christopher Cobb
“Rules of Attraction” Lions Gate 2
Paws
The world of Bret Easton Ellis must be a chilly one. Beneath the
glacial surface, in which Ellis’ characters bicker and have
narcotic-fueled sex, there is a frigid, intellectual and insightful
current flowing. Even when the other shoe drops and Ellis seems to
lose track of whatever frigid point he’s making in lieu of
being weird, it’s hard to forget that there was once, at
least, a point. But, that is the problem with Roger Avary’s
“The Rules of Attraction,” based on Ellis’ novel.
I kept wondering what exactly was the point. The film follows Sean
(James Van Der Beek) as he rocks through college under the
influence of whatever narcotic happens to be in his pocket. The
plot is secondary to the attitude of the film, which is cynical and
ice-cold. The brutality of the screenplay, complimented by a
stylistic exuberance, is interesting to a point. It starts to grow
tiresome after 45 minutes when the search for something more
meaningful than college-students-behaving-badly is initiated. It
strives to be an autopsy into the nature of those with money and no
emotions. But the film, despite being well-acted and visually
exciting, never seems to be more than an exercise in style. At the
end, when two characters walk through snow looking at pieces of
another shattered dream, there is a disingenuous lament. Is this
supposed to be a rebuke to their materialistic nihilism? If so,
it’s far too little, far too late. -Ryan Joe