Plug and Chug ***spoilers ahoy!***

Rating: Null/10 (26 May 2002)

***This contains spoilers and foul language, viewer discretion is advised***
Plug and Chug.
How quaint. Finally at the end of a movie with big stars and apparent backing and the studio's blessing to go forth and be a bit artsy, the Hero dies. Unfortunately, the movie is a remake of a film where the great thing about the ending is that the hero DOESN'T die. Christopher Nolan makes a case that `Memento' was just a fluke. That's pretty ironic, considering that I found `Memento' a step down from his conceptually superior if less stylish debut, `Following." In "Memento" there is a whole thing with Carrie-Anne Moss sending Guy Pearce after her ex-boyfriend. It leads nowhere and leaves the spectator feeling justifiably cheated. The worst thing about it is the superiority underlying, the feeling that he was just going to catch your attention with the birdie while he took your wallet, that you weren't going to notice that he didn't put in the time to tie this thing that takes up about 15 minutes of the movie to any sort of thematic arc, that you're being had, that Nolan is pretending to respect you, pretending that you can divide decimals in your head but really he doubts your simple addition. Again in "Insomnia" he pretends he's giving us the credit to make up our own minds.
When people hear a movie they like is being remade with big names the oldest cliché is that they will futz with the ending, and "Insomnia" is the cliché-maker's dream come true, the ULTIMATE in Hollywood obvious sell-out endings. We even have the sweeping music and the cradled head and the `hang on, don't leave me, don't let go.' And what exactly are we being told in `Insomnia' is anything outside every week at the cinema? Nolan intercutting shots of Pacino looking disoriented with shots of events real and imagined for seconds and milliseconds accompanied by jarring music. One can't help think that the boy must be on to something. This will obviously spark a revolution in cinema.
As with `The Insider' and `Any Given Sunday,' one feels that the film could cut half an hour of Al Pacino (make that an hour for `Sunday'), not that he's particularly anything or another (why is he from the Italian Bayou, by the way?). Robin Williams mistakes underplaying for playing (and looks like he's had work done) and the great and underused Martin Donovan is fine, underused and miscast in a part better suited to Aaron Eckhart (I mention because the character's name IS Eckhart). Hilary Swank fails to register until she begins to grate near the end, mostly the script's fault. Nicky Katt has to play a romantic lead or a kid with a pet he loves or SOMETHING or he'll soon wind up just another a__hole of the week, no offense but isn't this his 8th a__hole part? He and Martin Donovan should defect back to indieworld, I'm sure Hal Hartley or Richard Linklater could mix up something worthwhile. Oh, and Maura Tierney gets paid, which is always a good thing; although really, not for very much.
I only wonder why they didn't nail together a cross from the abundant wood scrap on the dock where happens the film's climactic shootout (what's that? The original with Stellan Skarsgard which was so good it is ALREADY out on Criterion didn't have a big western shootout with catch phrases like `Hey Will, you forgot about the wild card [bang!]'???) Really, this film sets the cause of making major movies not crap back somewhat, as its wholesale embrace of blatant whoredom makes the case that if you're mad because it was simply smarter/better the way it was done originally, you are just being anti-commercial and neo-bohemian for the sake of poseurship, because LOOK! Christopher Nolan has been proclaimed as a Genuine Artiste by the Wood itself, and if you think that sacrifices his credibility, the song goes, then you're the one who'll be stuck trying to trade your home-made digital movies on the web in 20 years and ranting about giving a demographic a chance to buy something other than pablum. Maybe we should get Nolan a cross too. It's a sucker bet, and it's no real surprise that Soderbergh produced it. Again, the illusion of pushing boundaries with none of the effects, risks or rewards of actually pushing boundaries.
So it's right there on the poster: three academy awards and the new hot guy and we still can't get a good ending or any honest to god moral ambiguity. Williams goes bonkers and (as you know from the preview) tries to off Swank in a completely unjustifiable move (she's told everyone where she's going! He's a mystery writer!) and Pacino decides that he should give the nickel back to Mr. Wilson even if he's going to be grounded for two whole weeks.
Pacino certainly took Olivier's advice to Dustin Hoffman about acting like he's tired, by the end of the movie you'll swear he hasn't slept since `Dog Day Afternoon.' The cinematography was nicely handled by Wally Pfister, so the evening wasn't a complete waste. But sing it loud and if you're going to sing it then sing it proud, SELL OUT!