(1/22/02)

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Youre only as good as your last film.

So far, for a guy like James Cameron, the term perfectionist has worked out. He shut everyone up with the biggest movie of all time.

It was going pretty good for Martin Brest, too. That is, until his last film. He was a non-prolific surefire man to Hollywood suits; he could smash together artistry and box-office bonanza. Look at his track record: BEVERLY HILLS COP, MIDNIGHT RUN, SCENT OF A WOMAN. But then came the bad buzz. The project everyone loved to hate. The overlong, self-indulgent crumble-crumble of Brests career: MEET JOE BLACK. The ravenous press was sick of pretty-boy Brad Pitt, and the movie had been delayed so long they were just foaming to get at it. And worse still: they had a right to attack. The movie had an interminable length and was insufferably lugubrious. Save for the radiant Claire Forlani, the movie was a bust.

Brest went off as he always does, this time licking his wounds, but on this occasion he had a surprise. His next movie would be written by him. He had taken up pen and pad for the first time since GOING OUT IN STYLE. Much like Joel Schumachers post-BATMAN AND ROBIN film FLAWLESS, Martin would get down and dirty with his own words. This film would be GIGLI.

At this point youre probably wondering how you say "Gigli." Heres the explanation according to the script:

"The first G in Gigli is pronounced like the J in Jacques, the second G is silent. Rhymes with really."

I ask why you would give your movie a title that needs explaining. But thats just the start of the funky, needless cutesiness going on here.

What is it about hit men and mobsters that attracts filmmakers running from their failures? Joel Schumacher went back to his roots by writing a movie about a stroke victim who takes singing lessons from a drag queen. You know, I enjoyed that script when those characters interacted. But the ridiculous mob-money subplot invaded the whole thing and you wondered what was going on in Joels mind.

GIGLI isnt nearly that schizophrenic. Its just old. It seems Martin Brest is still enamored of the post-Tarantino verbiage-coolness. The long, unending sentences riffing on life in cool-speak. The unlikeliest people using the most unlikely words. Every subject a hip speech in the making. Everyone a hipster in disguise.

Gigli, to be played by Ben Affleck, is a hit man working for new-to-Cali mobster Louis. We meet Gigli, in one of the better scenes in the script, while hes getting Louis money from someone: he has the poor bastard in a dryer, and, as he fumbles for change, talks to the guy about the you-never-know randomness of life. Louis has a friend who is in trouble: hes about to go to jail for a long time thanks to a diligent federal prosecutor. Louiss brilliant idea is to kidnap the prosecutors mentally-challenged brother and, I guess, hold him hostage till the fed prosecutor says "I give."

Gigli (whose real name is Larry) waltzes out of the slow mans "care facility" and takes him to his apartment. Soon after a strikingly beautiful woman shows up. She says her name is Ricki, and Louis sent her there so Gigli, who Louis cant stand, doesnt screw up the deal. Gigli, his professional pride hurt, takes offense. Then admires the view and decides, well, maybe this wont be so bad. But slow down, my brother, theres a problem. Ricki is, gasp, a lesbian (Brest capitalizes the L in lesbian like its a political party). Ricki is living in his apartment, sleeping in his bed with him, but shes not into guys. Gigli pulls the hair on his head out one by one. Meanwhile the misplaced Brian (the slow gentlemen) is yelling and screaming and asking to go to "The Baywatch" and calling Australia -- in other words, not making things much easier.

Brest hasnt written a screenplay in years, and it shows: he seems to be getting every theory he had in the last twenty years off his chest here. The script is about ninety percent dialogue. And that seems engendered not only by Brests pent-up urge, but also by the lack of any discernible story. Ricki and Gigli have to hide out in his apartment, so they hang out there for just about the entire script trading thoughts on sex and life.

I dont have a problem with a script like this. In fact, I welcome it. I love to hear people talk. Brest does have a certain ability with dialogue. Theres a naturalness to it. The problem is that everyone sounds alike. Theres nothing distinguishing Ricki from Gigli, Gigli from Louis. And theres such an old-school vibe going on here. Its like reading yesterdays newspaper. The mood and style is all post-QT in its breezy prolixity. Martin Brest is trying too hard to be cool to know that coolness comes not with strain but with casual verisimilitude.

Theres a lot of stuff in GIGLI that I enjoyed. My favorite bit, one of the things that thwacks into its bulls-eye, is Ricki suggesting Gigli is perhaps homosexual. She pulls a test on him. Telling him he should trim his nails. He extends his arm, holds his hand out before his eyes, wrist cocked up, the top of his hand facing him. She says this is the feminine way of looking. The masculine way would be to curl your fingers and turn your hand to you. Gigli protests: its his eyes, not his virility. "Im near-sighted, or far-sighted, whatever it is," he says. Then he shows her an exaggerated view of him trying to see his fingernails the "masculine" way. Little bits like this are funny and smart. Brest has them sprinkled here and there. I like Gigli having to read to Brian before he falls asleep but, lacking a book, reading him containers of food and toilet paper. I like Rickis wily way of getting out of trouble, making up a real-sounding tale about how ancient Chinese warriors ripped out their opponents eyeballs.

Theres also a lot to dislike. The tone, for one, which went out with the 90s for everyone but the obtuse or careless. Making a QT knockoff, at this point, is about as cool as TOUCHED BY AN ANGEL. The thing that really hurts the script in my eyes is Brian. First of all, Brest never even bothers to describe him. Hes called "retard," etc., by a lot of people. But does he just have a low IQ? Does he have Down Syndrome? Is he just a normal-looking guy that no one would suspect anything of if his mouth is shut? The other (huge) problem I have is that Brest didnt bother to do one iota of research on people like Brian. He took his info from TV shows and movies -- the subjects of L.A. LAW, RAIN MAN, FORREST GUMP -- and threw it all together. Brian is not only not realistic, but hes inconsistently written. Brest seems to equate retardation with Tourettes syndrome, which is a horrible stereotype to perpetuate. Brest writes Brian as "Hollywood cute" -- he likes to spout clipped curse-word sentences. "F*** you, fart-brain!" At other times, though, Brian is the angelic mentally-challenged kid whos so easy to fall in love with.

Ricki and Gigli are basically the same person: the author. They share the same mouth. They do, though, get off a couple of fun speeches about sex and life. Like I said, Brests dialogue is too showy for its own good, but it works sometimes. And Rickis explanation of why women are better than men, while totally inevitable, was better than youd expect.

The problem with Ricki is that shes an old-hat construct. The once-straight lesbian stuck with a guy. Teaching the man the way of the world. Informing him of how much sunnier the world is when you sleep with women.

Gigli is your average sad-sack hit man. He has no friends and no family, save a busybody mother, and even his mob boss thinks hes an idiot. He looks at Ricki, who, its no surprise, sleeps with Gigli and isnt who she says she is, as his way out. His way to throw off the chains of his life. Its a mini-howler that it takes sex with a beautiful woman for him to see this. Putting people in dryers and kidnapping slow people doesnt hammer it home for him. It took some sweet layin.

The characters ultimately prove frustrating, because theres nothing beyond their facile borders.

The only fully realized and fully successful character here is a drunk cop by the name of Jacobellis. He pops up every now and again, on the lookout for the missing Brian, grumbling about his odd life. He tells one of the funniest gastrointestinal-mishap stories youre likely to hear. Jacobellis, like all great drunk characters, talks almost in an extraterrestrial patois -- truth mixed with fiction, erudition interlarded with school-yard foolishness, the reality of his life merged with the unreal hopes he looks out into the future for. He was almost as pleasurable as a Jim Thompson drunk. Almost.

Whether you buy GIGLI or not depends solely on if you buy Brests straining-for-laid-back, blithe style of writing. If you accept it all, and float it out with these rambling characters, theres a lot to enjoy. I just found too much the same, too much unbelievable, too much of it to be has-been junk Brest is better than.

Rickis lesbian talk is right-on and cool -- but youve seen knowing lesbians before. Giglis philosophizing hit man babbles with the best of them, getting off hits now and again -- but youve seen that, well, thousands of times before. Brians cutesy-otsey slow person yelps perceptive lines youd never expect from someone with his limited intelligence -- but youve seen this many times before, too.

GIGLI has the markings of unexplored possibilities. Wheres the window into Brians new life? Does he just "take" to these surroundings? Does he question the people hes with? Shouldnt he demand his old routine? Shouldnt Gigli and Ricki explain to him what the hell is going on? The obvious answer is yes, but Brest is more concerned in showing you how cute slow people can be.

I can dig that Brest wanted to make a small film, like his SCENT OF A WOMAN, that was no more or no less than the interaction between two people. But he couldnt stop himself from indulging. Ben Affleck signed onto his movie for a huge payday. When Halle Berry dropped out, Jennifer Lopez came aboard for a who-made-this-deal? twelve million dollars. Just these three players -- two stars and the writer-director -- and youre into the thirty-million-dollar mark.

Lopez should shine in her role. The character calls for a sexy purr and a smoking body. She can supply both. I question this paycheck, though. Has Lopez ever made a movie that made money? She can sell CDs, but not movie tickets. THE CELL and THE WEDDING PLANNER opened big and faded. ANGEL EYES was an out-and-out bomb.

Affleck, who is one of those guys thats more charming outside of his films, has a dilemma here: hes in basically the same role he had in CHASING AMY. The straight guy with a lesbian. The straight guy hearing about how lesbians have sex and why its superior. The straight guy making love to a lesbian. Though this is a healthier role, they are so similar its going to be hard to get around. All I could think about when Ricki was telling Gigli about sex with a woman was: hey, this is just like that scene in CHASING AMY when they were on the swings.

The most effective killer in this script is the last thirty pages or so. Brest has simply no idea where to take his story and goes mad-dashing around looking for a way out. As is often the case, this is one of those times that a happy ending would have been the more daring. Ricki reveals who she really is, which isnt a surprise, and then does something so selfish and stupidly rash that it leaves your head spinning. I dont want to give away what happens, but I dont know why Brest makes you spend 140 pages with three people only to scoot one of them away during the period when youre waiting to get paid off for your troubles. The ending goes in twenty different directions, confused and blind, and then runs into the most predictable of outcomes. (Ricki says her involvement was, above everything, to safeguard Gigli from doing anything stupid -- i.e., killing Brian -- but Gigli was already queasy about the job and had impossible-to-defeat qualms about hurting Brian. So this amounts to nothing; she hasnt made Gigli a better man -- shes left him as who he was, but worse off, and in a tighter spot. By making Gigli a good-guy-who-does-bad-with-a-conscience from the start means he cant grow. And he doesnt.)

Im the last one to demand a moral. In fact, "presenting" your meaning usually ruins it for me. And I dont mind surface work, either. But Brest appears to be making a point about randomness. The unexpected waves our lives float on. I guess -- because to me this just feels like a loose-and-easy talk-a-thon, featuring one mans many theories on life -- some interesting, some forced. I think maybe if Brest didnt have higher things on his mind, and didnt keep the story so claustrophobic, he could have had a small, hip little affair. As it is, he never lays claim to a purpose, and he never fastens a firm enough hand here to hold it steady. Gigli and Ricki arent real characters; theyre mouthpieces and archetypes who dont come alive enough to shatter those descriptions. The proof is that Brest doesnt know where or how to end it. He takes us to the place we know were going, getting there late, and brings us back to the beginning. At that point, however, were already too far gone from what made GIGLI winning to remember or care.

-- Darwin Mayflower.