Tribeca Film Festival Review: "Redbelt"

Phil Nugent — Sun, 27 Apr 2008 15:00:00 GMT

In his recent, attention-getting Village Voice article proclaiming himself to no longer be a "brain-dead liberal", David Mamet chided those who fail to appreciate how great it is here in the land of the free and who sit around trying to think up reasons to be dissatisfied with democratic capitalism, just so they can have something to be sore about. In Redbelt, Smiley Mamet's latest stab at writing and directing a movie, the hero, played by Chiwetel Ejiofor, is a hard-working, incorruptable black man who's trying his damndest to make an honest living running a martial-arts academy that does its bit for society by training police officers in methods of self defense. But when we meet him, he's already in danger of going out of business, and then evil Hollywood types steal his technique of pitting combatants against each other after selecting one to be "handicapped" for the bout. Robbed of the only thing he has that may have monetary value so that these sharks can cheapen it by using it in circus-like arena ring competitions, he's ultimately reduced to agreeing to compete in one of the bouts in hopes of at least winning some prize money, and then he discovers that the contests are fixed. ("Whenever two guys are fighting for money," mewls the crooked promoter played by Ricky Jay, "the fight is never fair.") Does Mamet ever see any of the plays and movies he signs his name to, or is he so committed to the capitalist system that he has a bunch of cranks hired off park benches staffing a sweatshop where they grind this stuff out by the yard?

Chiwetal Ejifor brings his role a strong presence and the ability to convey complex thought and emotional storms going on beneath a placid surface. He deserves a lot of credit for not appearing ridiculous when his character pounds away at the jujitsu formula that appears to be his all-purpose mantra for life: "There is no situation you can't escape from. There is no situation you can't turn to your advantage." The movie only leaves him completely out to dry once, when Mamet, letting his hand (and his woman problem) show all too nakedly, has him bestow these wise words on a woman (Emily Mortimer) who's been raped, while demonstrating that with more skill and determination, she could have fought off her attacker. Although Mortimer is required to make a full-blown crazy-broad entrance, twitchy and paranoid and all but frothing at the mouth, it turns out that she's the movie's Good Woman; after Ejifor starts telling her what to do, she shuts her yap and gratefully concentrates on supporting him, while Ejifor's wife (Alice Braga), a "Brazilian princess" who worries about her business and dares to have doubts about whether her husband's noble principles will be enough to keep the lights turned on, throws in her lot with the rotten show business people who are conspiring against him. They include Tim Allen, insanely cast as a tough-guy movie star with a bad haircut, and Joe Mantegna, all too perfectly cast as the movie star's slimeball manager, who gives you the feeling that he could produce a line of male body oils from his pores and market it under the brand name "Dishonestee'." Having used these guys to establish that the world is totally rigged and everything's phony, Mamet then turns around and flatters the audience by insisting that the ticket-buying rubes the world over will still notice and appreciate true quality when they see it; when Ejifor and a bad guy get into a tussel in the corridor leading to the stage of the big fight, every head in the place ignores the glitz they've paid to get in to see and swivels to pay attention to the true jujitsu master in action. Mamet himself is the show-business equivalent of one of those politicians who've spent twenty-five years in Congress screaming about how you need to keep re-electing him in order to send a message to those out-of-touch Washington insiders.

From Skeet to Scarlett: Vanity Fair's Hollywood Issue

Scott Von Doviak — Wed, 06 Feb 2008 21:30:00 GMT

As you read here earlier today, Vanity Fair has cancelled their Oscar party, but there’s no stopping their annual movie issue. Somewhere amid the hundreds of glossy ads and smelly cologne strips, you’ll find articles on the films of Norman Mailer, the glitzy life of producer Jerry Weintraub and “A Guy’s Guide to Chick Flicks” by the ever-vigilant James Wolcott. The web site offers none of these, but it does feature a slideshow of all the Hollywood Issue covers photographed by Annie Liebovitz. It’s fun to flip back through the years and have a good chuckle at some of Vanity Fair’s picks to click from days gone by (after first pausing briefly to once again admire Scarlett Johannson’s rear flank in the March 2006 edition). For instance, without peeking at the caption, how many of the stars on the 2000 cover can you identify on sight? The “hot new wave” (their words, not ours) of 1998 seems to have panned out for the most part, but are there any pangs of regret for including both Stephen Dorff and Skeet Ulrich in 1996’s "Boy’s Town" lineup?

Probably not. After all, Vanity Fair isn’t in the talent evaluation business; they’ve got a product to move, and apparently putting attractive people on their cover is a time-tested way of doing it. The Hollywood Issue is probably a more accurate barometer of which publicists have the most juice than anything else, so if anything we should be impressed by their batting average over the years. So take heart, Ginnifer Goodwin, Alice Braga, Elizabeth Banks and the rest of you 2008 “Fresh Faces”: all is not necessarily lost.

The Screengrab : alice braga

Tribeca Film Festival Review: "Redbelt"

From Skeet to Scarlett: Vanity Fair's Hollywood Issue