Our heads are already too full of liquid explosive terror threats and John Mark Karr, but I'm afraid there's now one more item that must be added to that checklist of dread: chick flicks for guys.
Ready or not, lumbering soon into a theater near you, it's Trust the Man — a motion picture that inadvertently demonstrates that the only thing worse than a bunch of weepy females baring their souls on queue and coming up empty is when a bunch of overgrown boys are allowed to do the same thing.
Sound scary? It is. But the news gets even worse. There's every indication that the director of this annoying non-entity believes he's presenting us with some sort of deeply personal statement designed to make our lives just a little more, uh, meaningful.
The would-be auteur behind Trust the Man is Bart Freundlich, a director who has previously generated a couple of undistinguished and self-consciously arty movies (World Traveler, The Myth of Fingerprints), but who is probably best known for being married to Julianne Moore. There's more than a whiff of the self-indulgent and the auto-biographical to Trust the Man, in that it's partially about a man living in the shadow of his famous actress wife, played by — you guessed it — Julianne Moore. But Trust the Man, although more upbeat and commercial than the director's previous efforts, is also a bad movie in ways that Freundlich's other films only hinted at.
David Duchovny plays Moore's spouse, a former ad-writer turned house-husband, who spends his days taking care of the couple's children and hanging out with his equally idle brother-in-law (Billy Crudup, sporting some of the most offensive facial hair in recent memory). The male characters in Trust the Man have all the time in the world to stew in their own not-very-interesting juices, surf porn sites and, above all else, whine — something they do on the phone, in trendy restaurants, bathrooms, cars, street corners and anywhere else they happen to find themselves. Duchovny's character basically just wants more sex, Crudup's character is unable to commit to his long-suffering girlfriend (Maggie Gyllenhaal), and it will probably come as no surprise to even the dullest member of the audience when Trust the Man introduces a couple of long-legged beauties whose sole function is to tempt our superficial and self-absorbed heroes.
All of the movie's relationships implode about midway through, and the various characters wander about in circles as Freundlich clumsily attempts to milk each new convolution for laughs and, even more disastrously, the occasional profundity. The film's tone is rarely anything but shrill and bogus, its characters are mainly shallow purveyors of clichés, and the level of humor — sex jokes, spit-takes and leftover Woody Allen one-liners — is generally so low that even a good actress like Gyllenhaal frequently seems to be straining to smile at her co-stars' buffoonery. By the time the grand finale rolls around — an evening at the theater transformed by grandstanding audience members into one of those horribly literal "all the world's a stage" routines — it's hard suppressing an involuntary shudder or two.
There are a few shudders lurking in The Illusionist, too, although these are mostly of the positive sort. Edward Norton stars as Eisenheim, a master magician in 19th-century Vienna, summoning ghosts from mirrors and commanding orange trees to grow from seeds in seconds. Exploiting the power of art and of the supernatural, Eisenheim's cosmic parlor tricks soon gain him a rabid following among the local hoi polloi — putting the magician on a direct collision course with their sadistic, egomaniacal ruler, Crown Prince Leopold (Rufus Sewell). There's also a beautiful woman (Jessica Biel) in the mix, natch, desired by both men, and so making this royal pissing match all the more personal and vicious.
The Illusionist is a handsomely crafted, pleasant enough diversion, but it nearly squanders its accumulated good will in a cheap-shot ending that attempts to "surprise" us by tying up every loose end in an elaborate M. Knight Shyamalan meets The Usual Suspects bow. Before we get to that point, however, The Illusionist has the good sense to keep its mysteries exactly as they should be, mysterious, refusing even to divulge whether or not Norton's character actually has occult powers. If only by accident, this otherwise modest film offers itself up as a tribute to the cinema itself, reveling in that suspension of disbelief that allows us to continue believing in magic, if only for a while. The Illusionist keeps us in the dark for most of its running time, and that turns out to be a pretty satisfying place to be.
The rumors have been flying thick and fast for months, and damn if they didn't all turn out to be true. Sunrise Cinemas, that shining beacon of movies-that-matter in Tampa's Old Hyde Park neighborhood, will show its last films on Thurs., August 31. After that, the theater closes its doors for good.
Taking its place will be a massive parking lot and a looming tower o' condos, a sorry state of affairs about which we'll have much more to say in the not-too-distant future. For now, let's just remind ourselves of what the oracle Joni had to say about not knowing what you've got till it's gone.
Since opening its doors in 2004, Sunrise has served as a much-needed alternative to the more-is-more culture of the megaplex, a rare sign of life beyond the cavernous, personality-challenged airport hangars that serve as Hollywood's dumping ground. The plan was simple — show interesting films in comfortable surroundings — and with seven individual screens at its disposal, Sunrise has been able to present a wide range of independent, foreign and classic films over the years, as well as hosting important community-oriented events like the Tampa International Film Festival.
Sunrise will go out with a bang, not a whimper, treating longtime supporters and anyone else who shows up to a last hurrah on its final day of operation. The movies will roll all day long, with hot dogs, candy, super-sized soda and popcorn, and all other concession items — even beer and wine — available for $1.00 while supplies last. Show up for some Nachos, say a little prayer for the disintegrating quality of life in the Tampa Bay area, and bid a final fond farewell to Sunrise Cinemas as it rides off into the sunset.
This article appears in Aug 30 – Sep 5, 2006.