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.

Superman Returns (2006)

Director: Bryan Singer

Cast: Brandon Routh, Kate Bosworth, James Marsden, Kevin Spacey

Have I Seen it Before: Oh, sure. What else was there to do in 2006?

Did I Like It: I like Superman Returns. I think in many, many ways it is a throwback to another era of blockbuster spectacles, made at a time when every superhero film looked and felt like each other. Also, given that it turns out in addition to being a horrible sexual predator for decades, he is also one of the more undisciplined filmmakers produced by Hollywood in recent memory. Given his inherent sloppiness as a director, it’s a miracle any film he’s ever been associated with came together in any coherent way. That it is also a strangely personal film from a child of adoption about parentage and coming to grips with ones origin makes it worth at least some praise.

But I also dislike a lot of what is going on with the film. In fits and starts, it reaches to be the missing third movie in the Christopher Reeve series. I, too, have an affection for Superman (1978) and its sequel, so it’s slavish devotion to the work of Richard Donner is appreciated. It just doesn’t go for broke on the attempt. John Williams’ march is back in fine form, refrains from the planet Krypton make occasional cameos, and we even get a few tastes of “Can You Read My Mind,” and thankfully, no one takes a crack at a spoken-word rendition. But the musical motifs for Lex Luthor (Spacey, more ick easily available) are completely new and utterly bland. The failure of the score is made all the more frustrating by the fact that the new cues are courtesy of frequent Singer collaborator John Ottman, a composer whose work I’ve enjoyed in the past. 

The space zoomy opening titles are straight out of the Donner films, Marlon Brando is conjured into the film using footage left over from Superman II, and the Fortress of Solitude that informs the film’s MacGuffin is straight out of John Barry’s original production design, but made impressively more alive by the special effects of the time. But the visual trappings stop there. Singer could have gone for broke and had this film look like a product of the late 70s and early 80s. Instead, it’s obviously a film made in the mid-2000s, and had abandoned all hope of being timeless halfway through opening weekend.

Brandon Routh gets short shrift as the title character. He’s since proven himself an amiable presence on TV, and here he equates himself better than we all remember with the imminently unfair task of “being Christopher Reeve.” Kate Bosworth, on the other hand, not only channels nothing of Margot Kidder, she also practically sleepwalks through the role of Lois Lane, a choice which really should have put her at the bottom of the casting director’s list of potential choices for the role.

The film is just too flawed in key ways to fully recommend, and yet can’t be completely dismissed, either. Both the production of the film, and my reaction to it, are ultimately exercises in half measures.