Okay, here's the deal. One Sunday morning I got a call from one of my dear old patients, Mrs. Alfreeda Vanderbane (dear because she always pays me cash on the spot), who was suffering "most egregiously." I looked up the word egregiously in my dictionary, and then hopped in the truck to go out to her house and check on her. Normally, I don't do housecalls, but as I said she is quite dear, and to add to that fact, Mrs. Vanderbane is one of those ultra-wealthy types, who's got hermit tendencies. To make up for her lack of out-and-about, she reads voraciously, retaining most of it.
After tending her condition, which turned out to be a slight migraine, I piled in my truck, flipped the key, and got the dreaded "Click." I started cussin' about the fact that I never took that auto mechanic course at the Vo-Tech that my dad used to recommend: "Every man worth his salt knows his way around an engine block," he'd urge. (I guess I'm low-sodium.)
As I mozied back toward the house to phone a tow, Mrs. V met me on the porch carrying a Chilton's Truck Repair Manual. I noticed that the thing was well-read and highlighted with notes. I also noticed that Mrs. V didn't own a truck. Curious. Oh, and she also had a bottle Coke and a soup ladle in her hand.
In her upscale way, she addressed me: "Let me take a look, V.B." She rolled up her silk sleeves, as I popped the hood. She tapped a few bolts around with the ladle, and then, to my shock, poured the Coke onto my battery. "Seems the acid eats through the corrosion," she offered. "Try again please."
Yep, the truck fired right up. "Amazing what you can learn from a little reading," she said. She then reached into my coat pocket and genteely selected the crisp stack of bills she had just given me moments before. "Let's just call it a trade for services rendered." She winked at me, spun on her heel, and left me to drive home feeling like a total doofus. Needless to say, I had learned something. First, a little Coke cleans battery corrosion, and second, keep cash in your shoes.
Mrs. V's theory of reading was put on good display last night when I saw the new Anthony Hopkins-Alec Baldwin starrer The Edge. The film is about a bookish billionaire (Hopkins) and a slick fashion photographer (Baldwin) whose plane crashes in the forest, leaving them to stay alive while working out a grievance over Hopkins' wife, played by Elle MacPherson. The story, scribed by famed playwright David Mamet and directed by Lee Tamahori (Mulholland Falls), is a fast-paced survival yarn set in the beautiful Alaskan wilds. Hopkins does the Mrs. Vanderbane by turning his reading skills into useful survival tips.
The Edge has been getting notoriously cold reviews from the "real" film critics, but I gotta tell you, I had a rockin' time watching it. Everybody's bashing it 'cause they don't buy David Mamet writing an outdoorsy, action flick. He's s'posed to make gritty, talky, big city character studies. I'm saying that this is typical Mamet -- it's the same gritty, talky character-study stuff, it's just not set in the big city. It's set in the big country. If you insist on requiring artistic theory in your action pics, then consider that Hopkins and Baldwin march through fascinating character arcs, and we get to chew on heady ideas like "survival of the fittest", "brain vs. brawn", "man vs. man", and "man versus nature." And, if you must learn something to find merit in a film, then just you wait. Along the way you'll learn how to make fire from ice, turn a paper clip into a compass, and trap woodland creatures.
Hopkins turns in his usual amazing performance, this time doing most of his work with his eyes alone. Baldwin is surprisingly good, especially in one scene where he loses his cool and goes emotionally bonkers. He's crying, howling, spitting and generally freaking out, and right in the middle of it, he gets a big snot string dripping from his nose. I'm serious here; producing snot on demand is the mark of a damn fine actor. I know I couldn't do it without a serious head cold. Maybe in this day and age, it's a makeup thing. Heck, a big budget flick like The Edge probably has a snot wrangler. Regardless, Baldwin is doing some good acting here, turning in his strongest performance since his last Mamet role in Glengarry Glen Ross.
I'm sure some folks will applaud cinematographer Don McAlpine for the parade of fabulous scenic views that we get to gaze at. Not knocking Don and his crew's work (they do a fine job), but I sometimes wonder if there oughta be a note in the credits scroll that says, "Scenery by God." I mean, how hard does it have to be to make breathtaking landscapes look nice? Just load the film and keep it in focus.
The Edge is a really fun piece of film, with plenty of high tension, some blood and gore, and something of a surprise ending. There's not enough Elle MacPherson for my tastes, but all in all, it's an entertaining two hours that's been unfairly maligned by the intelligencia. I even bet Mrs. Vanderbane would like it. If we could just get her out of the house....
Copyrighted image courtesy of 20th Century Fox.
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in for observation