0 stars out of 5
I’ve seen worse movies. I think I have. But this film’s spectacular failure in almost every regard is especially of note, given the combined talent and international cooperation involved. Based on an Italian book. Directed and co-written by France’s Luc Besson, director of La Femme Nikita and Léon: The Professional (but interestingly, nothing really worthwhile since, depending on your view of The Fifth Element). Executive produced by Martin Freaking Scorsese. Starring Robert DeNiro. Hmm, now that I think about it, it’s been the law of diminishing returns for all these guys. And they all land with a resounding thud in The Family.
I couldn’t quite figure it out at first. The movie had the general feel and pacing of a comedy, but there really aren’t any laughs to speak of. Well, there wasn’t anything to figure out—this is an utter mess. Almost seems like a bad foreign film—with a style of humor that just doesn’t play in the U.S.—and maybe was quickly translated into English. The million references to American mafiosa culture are so completely phony, and such a clumsy reinterpretation of classic mob flicks. Maybe this would be more understandable if The Family was purely an overseas creation, but couldn’t Marty or Bob have stepped in to help just a little?
DeNiro gets another paycheck here. Michelle Pfeiffer has been married to the mob for a long, long time, but I don’t remember her using such a lousy accent back in the day, and she certainly didn’t have that duckface. Tired Tommy Lee Jones, cha-ching. Big Pussy is happy to get work. (Uncle June is in the credits, but I didn’t see him.) And hey, there’s Herc from The Wire.
Then there are the kids. (This is a family, after all.) We are to believe that DeNiro and Pfeiffer have high-school-age children. The boy actor—I’m not going to look up his name—is a poor man’s Jay Baruchel. His character is a pint-size con man—oh, that’s clever. The daughter is Dianna Agron from Glee. She’s a poor man’s Melissa Joan Hart, or an even poorer man’s Britney Spears. And this is one of the worst, most offensively written characters in recent history. She is boy crazy! And she fights really good! (See, they are the children of a mob guy!) And… she is nothing else whatsoever! A horrible portrayal of a young woman, particularly compared with her precocious brother.
And they’re in France thanks to the witness protection program, because… ah fuck it, I’m not going to waste your time anymore. Mine was already wasted enough.
Whoa, a Zero. Sounds liek it’s time to finish off this Movie and Movie review stuff. Why don’t you just focus on “All in The Family.” There’s enough grit and juice in 5 minutes of that show compared to the onslaught of Hollywood name-checking you pitifully do.
I’m a little biased though. We watched a Lot of the Bunkers growing up. My maternal grandda and my dad weren’t the best of buds (stivik-miclusic?), and this show always seemed to spark a disturbing tension when we piled around the Zenith. May be part of the reason why I like tension between bloggers, and why it produces good art, if such a thing can happen nowadays.
But then there’s also jean Stapkleton’s Theater Playhouse which was just down the Gettysburg Pike from where we lived. My momn would go to her summer appearances with her girlfriends. She coerced me to go to one of the shows after Stapleton died, and it was pretty good, but a year later Hollywood made a movie of it and my memories developed shitstains.
My cousin directed a movie costarring Maureen Stapleton (no relation. Well, my cousin is a relation). And I’m going to keep writing reviews, you meathead!
Could you ask your cousin to write a diary of A Day in The Life of a director, or dictate to you at least for SiW? I have a troubling obsession with Power, and would good to hear about it from the Chief Steak.
(sorry for the ADiTHL reference, had insomnia several times this week, and in an attempt to ease it, listened the Sgt Pepper for the 100th time, though it’s been well over 15 years since the prior)
Maybe re-read the old Levenstein entries [that is in reference to a Hollywood diary, and should not be misconstrued as a possible cure for insomnia].
Oh for frick park’s sake jack, I allude to the imagescreen and its power, and you immediately go running to mr filet mignonstein. Forget it