L.A. Confidential (1997)

Director: Curtis Hanson

Cast: Kevin Spacey, Russell Crowe, Guy Pearce, Kim Basinger

Have I Seen It Before: Yes. It felt like one of those negotiations I had to launch into in the 1990s to retrieve R-rated movies from the powers that B. As scandalous as the film presents itself to be, I’m imagining my 13-year-old self felt like he was sold a false bill of goods.

Did I Like It: This time I loved it. There’s probably not much more to say about the Hanson’s direction, Ellroy’s story designed to be an almost perfect tension-delivery machine, or even the performances. I’m perfectly fine to hear that the one takeaway people might have from this review that I never thought I’d watch a movie with Kevin Spacey and eventually forget that I’m having to watch Kevin Spacey. The man is probably deeply terrible, and I’m imagining that American Beauty (1999) is still made of nuclear levels of discomfort, but there was definitely a time where he had a watchable quality.

But what I would really like to talk about it Jerry Goldsmith’s score. I didn’t even need to see his name in the credits to know he was conducting. It might be his last great score*, and it seems to celebrate all of his disparate works. There’s more than a little bit of Chinatown (1974), and that seems to be a natural reference point. But there’s plenty of other Golsmith-esque flourishes in there, culminating in a celebration of his whole career. A bit of Alien (1979)** is thrown in there, along with some of his larger orchestral themes, and even a few notes from his later synth-heavy scores. The score album of this one is quickly going to be on regular rotation. That much is for certain.

*All due apologies to Star Trek: Insurrection (1998), a solid score that suffers from trying to copy Star Trek: First Contact (1996) a bit too closely, and no apologies to Star Trek Nemesis (2002), because you know what you did.

**When White (Crowe) digs around in the cellar, you’ll hear it, too.

Wonder Boys (2000)

Director: Curtis Hanson

Cast: Michael Douglas, Tobey Maguire, Robert Downey, Jr., Frances McDormand

Have I Seen It Before: Oh, my, yes…

Did I Like It: I was having a conversation with a friend recently, and she described Free Enterprise (1999) as one of—if not her absolute—favorite film ever. That caused me to shake my head a bit, as even when I first saw that film at the tender age of 17-or-so, I found the film to be a cheap, misanthropic riff of Play it Again, Sam (1972) and Swingers (1996) (and that’s when it was hitting its intended target). Seeing my dubious reaction, she immediately explained that watching the film feels like “being with my people.”

She hardly turned me around on the fictionalized exploits of Mark Altman and Robert Burnett (or Shatner rapping, certainly) but I couldn’t help but think of this movie.

I can’t imagine myself as accomplished and revered (or even as easily traditionally published) as even the most hapless character in the movie, but: Have I sat, mildly disaffected at a party, idly providing character histories for the people apparently enjoying themselves? Yes, yes I have. Have I stifled a laugh while attending a writing lecture? Yes. Yes, I have. Many times. Have I thought that writing conferences were kind of silly, and only wanted to go do some writing or hang out with other people that might actually have some ambition towards the completion or consumption of a book? Yes. Many, many times. Would I feel like I don’t have anything to contribute to an adult conversation other than movie trivia, and would be far more interested in priceless movie memorabilia than anything else at the host’s house? Have you met me?

Maybe these characters are not “my people,” but they are what “my people” are often like at their best. They’re what I want my people to be.

That’s more than enough to recommend the movie, I would think. But is it objectively good. Do I extol the virtues of the film, only to invite the sideways glances I give Free Enterprise? I would think not. The film manages to wrangle Chabon’s sprawling contemplative novel into a night-in-the-life story which tends to deflect the maudlin and embrace the jaunty. Putting aside my sentimental feelings for the movie, Douglas harnesses the same “likable asshole” energy which even ten years earlier would have been right in Jack Nicholson’s wheelhouse. The rest of the cast is great, too, to a performer straddling the line between funny and authentic*.

*Remember when Robert Downey Jr. was in movies which didn’t give a rat’s ass about the four quadrants? I do too, and… I might just be itching to get to my screening of Oppenheimer (2023).