Film Reviews

Directed by Jean-Paul Rappeneau

Sony Pictures Classics

Bon Voyage is not all bad—it’s just silly, unoriginal and pointless.

Jean-Paul Rappeneau’s latest film mixes the chaos in Paris just before the Nazi occupation with a hearty dash of scandal, intrigue and romance. Sounds like a recipe for potential disaster, and it too often is. Although Rappeneau’s recreation of this war-torn era is undeniably excellent, his grasp of plot and characters is tenuous at best and not enough to redeem the film’s many faults.

Newcomer Gregori Derangere is the perpetually bemused Frederic, an impoverished writer still in love with his childhood crush. She’s now the popular actress Viviane Denvers (Isabelle Adjani, who looks like she’s been given a severe dose of Botox). So intoxicating is Viviane’s hold on Frederic that he doesn’t mind being imprisoned for a crime she committed, later following her across France to Bordeaux’s Hotel Splendide. A crop of rabid aristocrats have also gathered at the Splendide to escape the madhouse of Paris and badger the wait-staff nonstop for rooms—God forbid they sleep in their cars, with their suitcases and hatboxes!

On the way to Bordeaux Frederic comes across his old jailhouse buddy, Raoul (Yvan Attal), the movie’s most likable character. Raoul agrees to accompany Frederic on his oblivious quest for Viviane, an adventure that introduces some new players to the exploding drama, like the pert schoolgirl Camille (Virginie Leodyen, who’s getting a little old to play these parts). Camille and Professor Kopolski (Jean-Marc Stehle), a brilliant physicist who happens to be Jewish and the object of her undying devotion, are trying to get to England with several jugs of heavy water that could wreak havoc on the world if they fell into the wrong hands.

It only follows that Frederic and Raoul, who has taken an immediate fancy to the girl, need to embroil themselves in the political and romantic mess with Raoul’s hopelessly star-struck friends (Viviane’s an actress, remember?), strategically introduced for more comic relief. Call it a veritable love hexagon, in which people are always in love with people in love with other people.

Viviane’s despicability in these matters is somewhat forgivable; Frederic’s stupidity less so. At least the former is just exercising her incredible capacity for self-preservation—one that allows her to latch on to the closest plank on the country’s sinking ship, which just happens to be the over-greased, high-ranking Beaufort (Gerard Depardieu). He and Frederic are but two of the many people who have their eyes on the irresistible and infinitely manipulative actress.

Serendipity and coincidences abound in Bon Voyage—but then everyone’s running around so frantically that it would be impossible for them not to bump into each other at the most opportune, or most inopportune, moments. So do subplots, many of which are left maddeningly unresolved. At times the film verges on self-parody—Viviane’s hammy, melodramatic antics, for example: the way she throws herself on her bed, her eyes oozing crocodile tears. These keep the tone light for the most part—thank God for small mercies. But it is a testament to the egregious Eurocentrism of American film distribution that mediocre movies like Bon Voyage receive U.S. distribution with remarkable ease, while far superior international films often lack an American audience.

—Tiffany I. Hsieh

The Alamo

Directed by John Lee Hancock

Touchstone Pictures

History, legend and myth all coincide in The Alamo. Heart-wrenching, dramatic, yet with a hint of humor, the film depicts two of the most famous battles of the Mexican-American war: the Siege of the Alamo in 1836 and the succeeding Battle of San Jacinto.

Quick history lesson: under the leadership of Col. William Barrett, Davy Crockett and James Bowie, almost 200 men from all different races and backgrounds fought bravely to the death for Texas’s independence against the Mexican army, led by General Santa Anna (Emilio Echevarria). While there were no survivors, their fight for Texas inspired General Sam Houston (Dennis Quaid) to lead 910 pioneers in the Battle of San Jacinto against Santa Anna’s army with the famous battle cry, “Remember the Alamo.” It took 18 minutes for them to defeat the Mexican army, and in exchange for his life, Santa Anna signed over all the Mexican rights to Texas. After gaining independence from Mexico, Texas was then annexed as the 28th state in the Union in 1845.

The Alamo is directed by John Lee Hancock, who’s previously worked as a writer and producer for other Disney spectacles such as The Rookie. The movie is rated PG-13, but Hancock’s often gruesome battle scenes give The Alamo a modicum of R-rated grit. The film was originally devised with an R rating, with Academy award-winning Ron Howard (A Beautiful Mind) as director. However, due to Disney’s budget constraints, Howard could not make the bloodier film he wanted, so he told Disney to offer it to Hancock, who promised a PG-13 cut with a budget under $100 million. The effects of this struggle are evident as the film falters slightly in providing viewers with a deeper insight into the historical events of the Alamo. A larger budget and more violence could have helped better convey the epic scope of these battles.

Hancock also co-wrote The Alamo with Leslie Bohem and John Sayles. The writers are diligent at recreating battles, but, in contrast with previous portrayals, are determined to create realistic heroes, warts and all.

Billy Bob Thornton, as the charismatic Davy Crockett, ably demonstrates a good man struggling to live up to his great name; his legendary exploits include killing bears, jumping the Mississippi and riding lightning bolts, but here he’s just one soldier with his best days far behind him. Even the Mexican soldiers in Santa Anna’s army are impressed and fascinated by the tales of the famous Crockett and often secretly support him. Combining heroism with humor, Thornton gives a fantastic, flawed performance as Crockett.

Jason Patric also fully conveys James Bowie’s passionate and angry personality. Often drunk, Bowie fights against illness, and even though offered a chance to leave, he bravely fights to the death for Texas. The film, however, does not hide Bowie’s dealings with slaves, which again shows a more realistic account of Bowie’s life than previous accounts.

Patrick Wilson’s William Travis is a violent womanizer and gambler who emerges as a naturally strong leader under even the most intense pressure. This mismatch creates a depth of personality and characterization that makes Travis’ majestic leadership rallying the men for their last stand all the more heartbreaking.

As the bloodthirsty villain, Echevarria shows Santa Anna’s extreme cruelty toward members of his own army and his merciless treatment of the Texans. Vowing to take no prisoners, Santa Anna exclaims at one point that he values the lives of his own soldiers as much as “chickens.” The evil in Santa Anna’s character, contrasted with the more pleasant depiction of the Mexican soldiers, help viewers concentrate their hatred on Santa Anna and less on the Mexican army in general. The director and writers seem to be trying to tone down the traditional xenophobia of this type of story in order to attract the widest possible audience.

While the movie struggles to deliver a truly unforgettable account of the famous battles, the film is beautifully shot and does try to capture the true character of the leaders in the Alamo and Battle of San Jacinto. The constraints of the PG-13 rating might stifle some of the excitement and violence, but The Alamo still provides an interesting spin on a classic American story.

—Halsey R. Meyer