On paper one wonders "how can a film with such a powerful cast not receive a theatrical release?". Before becoming paranoid or just lamenting the boneheadedness of today's ignorant Hollywood moguls, the answer is simple: the finished product is a disaster.
Anyone who's regularly attended industry screenings, especially organized film markets like AFM, Mifed or the old IFFM in NYC, knows that acquisition reps and distributors take a tough look at films on spec. This isn't a major studio production, or a Weinstein Brothers film, but yet another of the literally thousands of indies cranked out because money was flowing freely -this was produced in 2007, before the financial world went into turmoil and borrowing money for anything (let alone as risky a prospect as making a movie) seized up entirely.
I let my Netflix fingers do the walking, and painlessly rented this one last week, but it was a chore and a half getting through to the bitter end. The young filmmaker in charge has concocted a very poor script, one that would never have been green lighted by a major studio or even a mini-major -even if the studio mogul was demented enough to order his underlings to "GET ME A 'CRASH', after that Paul Haggis special made such a big splash at the Oscars. Don't get me wrong, I'm a big Kieslowski fan -I've seen all his feature films and even some of his short films & TV work shown in local retrospectives, but his own investigations of how chance/coincidence/fate rules the lives of FICTIONAL characters fail to justify the dozens of crappy Chaos Theory movies being made. Obviously many scatterbrained film festival directors and programmers eat up this stuff, but I find nearly all of the recent efforts in this non-genre to be examples of poor writing. And that includes the aptly titled but way overrated BABEL, or the more obvious forerunner to this project, the unbearably contrived 11:14 (which, surprise, surprise, also failed to get a theatrical release in the U.S.).
It's obvious why good actors work for scale in junk like this -they have the prospect of juicy roles (regardless of the absence of a viable structure from which those roles can hang), the half-assed inverted prestige of "going indie", and above all else can relish the opportunity of chewing the scenery for an untested, timid director - you know, the famous Klaus Kinski syndrome -he always preferred to work for hacks rather than geniuses like Leone and Herzog, because he could trample all over them.
Case in point: in Powder Blue we have a lapsed priest played by Forest, obviously aware that you don't have to give back Oscar statuettes based on subsequent poor efforts. His attempts at getting folks to kill him are so preposterously and awkwardly written and staged by our writer/director here that the film basically self-destructs in the first couple of reels.
The connectors between the characters and movie references are lame in the extreme -not worthy of a '60s sexploitation film by Michael Findlay or Doris Wishman (I'm being mean on purpose, but let's face it, this auteur is NOT as advanced in his plot development as say a Russ Meyer or Joe Sarno). The guy watching the stripper turns out to be her long-lost father; the hooker's dog is found by her nerd in shining armor, the creepy young funeral director; Jessica's anecdote quoting ANNIE HALL; the sudden, highly symbolic snowfall helps connect beautiful romanticism to the corny frieze (pun intended) of Liotta's corpse in the snow, giving way to a "Six People You'll Meet in Heaven" beach scene of grandpa stiff and grandson stiff cavorting in what looks like a lift from the idiotic finale of Jodie Foster on the beach with daddy David Morse in CONTACT; Swayze's real-life brother Don popping up as the bouncer in Patrick's strip joint; the heartfelt through-the-glass, phones at ears scene of Biel & Liotta is a remake of an infinitely better Nastassja Kinski scene in Wenders' classic Paris, Texas; the Eddie/Biel "Let's Hug" scene that is straight out of an acting class exercise; and a "Two Tickets to Paris" finale in which Biel's last line is barely audible, etc., etc. Flunk this guy out of screen writing class already.
Yes, the indigestible collection of scenes immortalized in the final cut, for DVD, of POWDER BLUE is just the sort of thing folks shake their heads at when attending film markets. I was always astounded back in the day (about 25 years back) at people who would duck in out of the salles at the Cannes Market or Mifed, watching a reel or two of a film, and then rushing to check out the other films screening simultaneously in nearby theaters. As a film buff I was inculcated with watching films in their entirety -even in the later ages of VHS and DVD I adhere to this policy, not checking out excerpts or jumping to future "chapters". But when you see a film as badly constructed as Powder Blue you can understand why the hard-headed mercenaries of this industry think they can tell early on whether a film is headed nowhere. It's unfair, since even a terrible film is presumably eligible for "redemption" in its final reels, but I'm beginning to see the logic in such impatient behavior.
Anyone who's regularly attended industry screenings, especially organized film markets like AFM, Mifed or the old IFFM in NYC, knows that acquisition reps and distributors take a tough look at films on spec. This isn't a major studio production, or a Weinstein Brothers film, but yet another of the literally thousands of indies cranked out because money was flowing freely -this was produced in 2007, before the financial world went into turmoil and borrowing money for anything (let alone as risky a prospect as making a movie) seized up entirely.
I let my Netflix fingers do the walking, and painlessly rented this one last week, but it was a chore and a half getting through to the bitter end. The young filmmaker in charge has concocted a very poor script, one that would never have been green lighted by a major studio or even a mini-major -even if the studio mogul was demented enough to order his underlings to "GET ME A 'CRASH', after that Paul Haggis special made such a big splash at the Oscars. Don't get me wrong, I'm a big Kieslowski fan -I've seen all his feature films and even some of his short films & TV work shown in local retrospectives, but his own investigations of how chance/coincidence/fate rules the lives of FICTIONAL characters fail to justify the dozens of crappy Chaos Theory movies being made. Obviously many scatterbrained film festival directors and programmers eat up this stuff, but I find nearly all of the recent efforts in this non-genre to be examples of poor writing. And that includes the aptly titled but way overrated BABEL, or the more obvious forerunner to this project, the unbearably contrived 11:14 (which, surprise, surprise, also failed to get a theatrical release in the U.S.).
It's obvious why good actors work for scale in junk like this -they have the prospect of juicy roles (regardless of the absence of a viable structure from which those roles can hang), the half-assed inverted prestige of "going indie", and above all else can relish the opportunity of chewing the scenery for an untested, timid director - you know, the famous Klaus Kinski syndrome -he always preferred to work for hacks rather than geniuses like Leone and Herzog, because he could trample all over them.
Case in point: in Powder Blue we have a lapsed priest played by Forest, obviously aware that you don't have to give back Oscar statuettes based on subsequent poor efforts. His attempts at getting folks to kill him are so preposterously and awkwardly written and staged by our writer/director here that the film basically self-destructs in the first couple of reels.
The connectors between the characters and movie references are lame in the extreme -not worthy of a '60s sexploitation film by Michael Findlay or Doris Wishman (I'm being mean on purpose, but let's face it, this auteur is NOT as advanced in his plot development as say a Russ Meyer or Joe Sarno). The guy watching the stripper turns out to be her long-lost father; the hooker's dog is found by her nerd in shining armor, the creepy young funeral director; Jessica's anecdote quoting ANNIE HALL; the sudden, highly symbolic snowfall helps connect beautiful romanticism to the corny frieze (pun intended) of Liotta's corpse in the snow, giving way to a "Six People You'll Meet in Heaven" beach scene of grandpa stiff and grandson stiff cavorting in what looks like a lift from the idiotic finale of Jodie Foster on the beach with daddy David Morse in CONTACT; Swayze's real-life brother Don popping up as the bouncer in Patrick's strip joint; the heartfelt through-the-glass, phones at ears scene of Biel & Liotta is a remake of an infinitely better Nastassja Kinski scene in Wenders' classic Paris, Texas; the Eddie/Biel "Let's Hug" scene that is straight out of an acting class exercise; and a "Two Tickets to Paris" finale in which Biel's last line is barely audible, etc., etc. Flunk this guy out of screen writing class already.
Yes, the indigestible collection of scenes immortalized in the final cut, for DVD, of POWDER BLUE is just the sort of thing folks shake their heads at when attending film markets. I was always astounded back in the day (about 25 years back) at people who would duck in out of the salles at the Cannes Market or Mifed, watching a reel or two of a film, and then rushing to check out the other films screening simultaneously in nearby theaters. As a film buff I was inculcated with watching films in their entirety -even in the later ages of VHS and DVD I adhere to this policy, not checking out excerpts or jumping to future "chapters". But when you see a film as badly constructed as Powder Blue you can understand why the hard-headed mercenaries of this industry think they can tell early on whether a film is headed nowhere. It's unfair, since even a terrible film is presumably eligible for "redemption" in its final reels, but I'm beginning to see the logic in such impatient behavior.