Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Grand Canyon (1991)

Is it possible to be too likeable? If it is, then I’m going to say that Kevin Kline is disgustingly likeable, which is to say I think he is wonderful. Especially in Grand Canyon, a film which must be admired for not only its almost uniform likeability, but its ambition: it’s gonna cover the Big Issues! Existential Meditation – yeah, that’s the ticket!

It was scripted by Lawrence Kasdan, who also directed, and it’s clear, whether he wanted it to be or not, that he is a good-hearted individual, despite instances of gang-violence, urban decay, infidelity, and mid-life crises. The film’s sense of humor is what tips you off immediately – it’s warm, like its characters, who are mostly, well, very, extremely likeable. Danny Glover as Simon, during a blind date with Alfre Woodard fumbles and is unsure of himself, and the two are obviously mutually impressed, yet Glover’s awkwardness is delightful – he escorts her to his yellow car, “Well, there’s my car. It’s…yellow. (A beat) Of course it’s yellow, what am I saying?” Alfre Woodard finds it just as adorable as I did. It’s been a while since a scene has made me smile so hard.


Danny Glover plays Simon, a tow-truck driver who saves Kevin Kline’s character, Mack, when his car breaks down in a rather urban part of Los Angeles. Kline is in the process of being menaced and humiliated by five shameless black thugs who know an uptight whiteboy lost in the ghetto when they see one. This scene takes place within the first five minutes of the film and immediately hooked me, an uptight whiteboy, as I was scared shitless for Mack. Simon pulls up, like a guardian angel, and defuses the situation in a brilliant exchange with the head thug (the one who’s “strapped” as Simon’s nephew, Otis, would say). I would describe the scene further, but it is a wonder to discover for yourself, this brief dialogue between Simon and Ghetto Hood #1, that basically defines a whole subcultures’ ugly dilemma with a short, tense conversation.

The film is not so succinct, as a whole, however, and has many different subplots and auxiliary characters, none of which are bothersome, but add an unnecessary girth to the momentum of the story. I’m speaking of Mack and his wife, Claires' son, Roberto (a young Jeremy Sisto) whose role seems rather minor compared to the others. I grew impatient with his scenes at Summer Camp. He has a scene where he learns how to drive with his father that is compelling, but the scenes involving him consoling a bullied boy at the camp, and his girlfriend, and his girlfriend’s parents introducing themselves to Claire all could’ve been removed without taking much from the film. Claire (Mary McDonnell) and her discovery of an abandoned infant wailing in the foliage when she’s out jogging struck me as particularly false. In a story like this, contrivances are requisite in order to establish the threadwork that ties all these disparate stories together, but this particular plot point was such a clumsy device – unsatisfied older woman facing Empty Nest Syndrome miraculously stumbles upon Hope wriggling in a bundle in the brush – that I often found Mary McDonnell’s entire character to be a weak spot. Sure, the film makes her say to Mack that it was “a miracle,” just like the curious moment when an absent-minded Mack was yanked back by a total stranger from stepping in front of a speeding bus. However, Mack’s character had an interesting story given to him, so anything involving him, I was much less inclined to grow tired with. The baby in the brush seems like a rather transparent script construct conceived (literally) to give an unassigned character something to do, much like Roberto and his Summer Camp romance, and to a lesser extent Mack’s secretary (and one-night stand), Dee (a 27-year-old Mary-Louise Parker) and her troubles. Though I must credit Kasdan for not forcing any melodrama involving Dee threatening to tell Mack’s wife, blah, blah, etc. Otis’s story also was not fundamental to the success of the film.

Like I said, though – the film is a success, and despite sometimes overstating themes about man’s smallness in the indifferent face of a natural behemoth like the Grand Canyon, there is a lot of wisdom about the way human beings struggle and persevere in the face of chaos and hardship. Mack, troubled why class and racial differences impose barriers between him and Simon becoming friends, seeks Simon out weeks later, after a bizarre and revelatory dream, and asks if he can buy him breakfast, one likeable all-around decent guy to another. Over breakfast, Simon tells Mack about his father’s worn, beat-up face:



The strangest character in the film is Davis (played by Steve Martin), a rich movie producer and friend of Mack and Claire. In a funny scene, we see him viewing the fruits of his labors (well his money) when watching a satirically gruesome scene of trigger-happy killers screaming obscenities and shooting passengers on a bus they have hijacked. Davis smiles at the unfortunate mayhem, and when there’s no “money shot” he gets up, turns around, and yells at the director, “Where’s the brain matter?! Where’s the viscera?!” He is later shot in the thigh in an abrupt car-jacking and after getting out of the hospital, tells Claire and others that he has had an epiphany – no more movies with explosions, no more glorification of violence, no more ugliness. Of course, by the end of the film, when Mack commends him on his change of heart, Davis asks, “What? Oh that! Fuck that.” This is followed by one of the best scenes in the film - as Mack drives Davis around the back lot of Davis’s studio in an upscale golf-cart, Davis explains why movies about violence need to be made:

“The point is…there’s a gulf in this country, an ever-widening abyss, between the people who have stuff and the people who don’t have shit. It’s like this big hole has opened up in the ground, as big as the fucking Grand Canyon, and what’s come out of this big hole is an eruption of rage and the rage creates violence and the violence is real, Mack. Nothing’s gonna make it go away, until someone changes something, which is not going to happen. And you may not like it, even I may not like it, but I can’t pretend it isn’t there because that is a lie, and when art lies, it becomes worthless. So I gotta keep telling the truth…even if it means some motherfucker can blow a big hole in my leg…and I’m gonna walk with a fucking limp for the rest of my life and call myself lucky.”


The reason I like this scene so much is that it’s unclear how Kasdan wants us to feel about this speech. Should we think it’s a crock of deluded bullshit (which it certainly seems like)? Or is there some truth to what Davis is yammering about? After Davis says all that, he hobbles out of the golf-cart and asks Mack if he’s seen Sullivan’s Travels. When Mack says he hasn’t, Davis says, “It’s a story about a guy, he’s a filmmaker like me, who loses his way, and forgets what it was he was put on earth to do. Fortunately, he finds his way back. It can happen, Mack. Check it out.”


Grade: B

No comments: