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So
it goes with Confessions of a Dangerous Mind, a pseudo-biopic
of erstwhile game show magnate Chuck Barris that was quietly released
six months ago amidst little fanfare, enjoyed almost no audience at
all, and is now being re-released with a sensationally trashy new ad
campaign. If you enjoyed the film during it's original run and are unlucky
enough to glimpse this new trailer now, the closest feeling I could
use to describe it would be watching your valedictorian honor roll sister
prostituting herself in Thailand for free sundae coupons at McDonalds. Confessions
centers around the autobiographical story of Chuck Barris, the man responsible
for creating bar-lowering hit TV series like the Gong Show and the New
Dating Game. This in and of itself makes it a far superior premise than
any other single thing starring an adult Drew Barrymore—and yet
the premise manages to get even better. This is because in his autobiography
years later, Barris claimed that he doubled as a CIA operative and
assassin while producing the shows. The film (written by noted psychotic
Charlie Kaufman) decides to treat Barris's obvious shovellings of bullshit
as the unvarnished truth, with oddly captivating results. Of
course, It would be difficult to glean any of this from the re-release
trailer, which gives one the impression that the film is a story entirely
about George Clooney's face. To be fair, towards the end of the trailer
an image flashes across the screen in a lightning-fast burst; at first
I thought it might be subliminal advertising inciting me to buy popcorn.
But slowing the trailer down revealed it to be a picture of Sam Rockwell,
who stars in the film. Mind you, I feel as responsible as anyone for this new, improved, vastly stupid trailer. I admit it — while I wanted to see the film during its first theatrical run, and thought to myself multiple times, "Say, I should see that," I didn't actually get around to actually, technically, seeing the movie. In my defense, I was probably preparing dinner or something for the 45 minutes it was in theaters. The bottom line is that if people like myself — who would genuinely be interested in seeing a different breed of movie — don't actually make the effort, one can't really fault the producers for taking a more populist approach. Hence: whole lotta George Clooney face! Indulgent amounts of Julia Roberts flying at you! Drew Barrymore's breasts may be closer than they appear!
The
trailer's attempt to guilt/shame us into seeing the film is roughly
akin to a plain, sort of dumpy girl coming up to you a couple of days
before senior prom and saying, "I still don't have a date for Friday,
but that could change, so if you want to ask me out you might want to
do it soon." Well guess what, Confessions of a Dangerous Mind/dumpy girl. Maybe you're just not such a hot ticket with the average movie-goer/prom attendee. Maybe, just maybe, Johnny Quarterback isn't going to fall for your little ruse. Sure, he wants an easy lay on prom night— but once he gets it he'll sure as shit leave you deflowered and crying alone in a cheap hotel room while he goes out and gets wasted with the boys. Observe these review snippets: "Entertainment Weeky calls it irresistible entertainment." "USA Today says it's riveting and mesmerizing." "Confessions of a Dangerous Mind's best friend who happens to be your co-worker says Confessions of a Dangerous Mind has a great personality and is loads of fun and I think you two will really have a lot in common." Perhaps,
in this regard, the film is the victim of its own complexity. Maybe
the movie is just so damned interesting that the people editing
the trailer have no idea what to include to convey the many multiplicitous
levels on which it functions. The truth is, I really want this to be
the case. I still want to enjoy this movie— but they truly do make
it difficult with all their Clooney face-crammed begging and supplication.
It's just too needy for your average filmgoer. After seeing the
trailer, I'm half-afraid that if I went out and watched Confessions
of a Dangerous Mind, I'd come home and find a message on my voice
mail from the movie asking if I'd come over and see it again tomorrow,
followed by twelve increasingly psychotic messages wondering why I haven't
called back yet. Then I'd have to explain that I wanted to see other
movies, maybe even rent a DVD here and there. I'm just not ready to
get that tied down, you see, and it's not you, Confessions, it's
me. You deserve much better audience members than me. So, is the trailer effective? Insofar as it lets people who wanted to see the movie the first time around but missed it know that it's back in theaters, yes. Insofar as it might make anyone else want to see the movie, probably not. Do I still want to see the movie? Yes I do. But not like this. Not like this.
RATING: |
It's
a sad state of affairs when an honest-to-god interesting and well-conceived
concept goes largely unnoticed. But it's somehow ten times more pathetic
when those responsible for bringing the good idea to the masses have
to practically beg the masses to pay attention to it after they missed
it the first time.
The
whole slimy re-release strategy leaves us with the impression of a good
movie forced to ask people, if they wouldn't mind, to please, please,
please come and see it. Oh, the trailer tries to retain a little
dignity in the process, like demanding a napkin after performing fellatio
on a vagrant. It suggests that, sure, maybe there was a good reason
why nobody went to see it the first time; but then assures everyone
that "This time nothing is holding you back!" Thank
God for that, because if we get a recurrence of those fanged, radioactive
circus bears that terrorized the multiplexes and kept the world's population
out of theaters last time, I'm gonna really start to think someone
doesn't want me to see that particular movie.