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The Weather Man |
The Weather Man There
are films we can call novelistic, rather than cinematic, because of their
focus on character and relationships rather than plot and action. Even though
their stories are told through the lens of the camera and the sequence of
edited shots, they reach us - if they do - through our understanding of the
people we come to know in the films, and the insights we gain through our own
response to them. By no means does this
imply that a film of a novel automatically qualifies; a potboiler is a
potboiler. But I can suggest two successful examples of novelistic films for
you: one would be "Igby Goes Down," Burr Steers's 2002 portrait of a teenage boy confronting life
as an adult; and, let me shock you, the monumental, action-filled
"Godfather Part I," in which every act and plot moment in the film
grows organically out of the personalities of the people in it, whom the
filmmakers have been at pains to let us know and understand. Now a strange new film,
"The Weather Man," is out in theatres this fall, and although I
think it a failure,
it is as bold about its portrait of a failed man as we're likely to see.
Nicolas Cage (who looks like he's joined Hair Club for Men) is David Spritz, the weather man on a Chicago television station.
He makes a fine living ($240,000 a year plus appearances, he tells us)
because he can wave his arms in front of the bluescreen
and smile winningly as he describes what's coming down from Canada. But in
every other way he is a failure. His marriage to Noreen (Hope Davis) has
ended and she is involved with a new man; his overweight 12-year-old daughter
is tormented at school and now sneaks cigarettes. His 15-year-old son is in
an alcohol drug rehab
program under the tutelage of a molester. David's father (Michael Caine) is a legendary novelist whose attempts at
communicating with David never seem to get through. No doubt the name Spritz was chosen ironically, as we see Chicagoans
periodically throw things at David on the street: Slurpees,
tacos, Big Shakes, and the like; he's come to accept it, but sublimates his
rage by fantasizing a restoration of his marriage
and a rapport with his kids.
But everything he does turns to ashes, and he cannot see where he needs to
go. And here is where the
film fails: David tries and stumbles, tries and stumbles, tries and stumbles.
Even though he ends up getting a national TV gig in New York (at a million
dollars a year) he is still the same person he was when we met him, still
waving his arms, commuting back to Chicago on weekends, still not having
moved off the spot he seems to have been nailed to at the beginning of the
film. This is a portrait without an epiphany or even a defining moment.
David's depression is so severe and all-consuming that it consumes us as
well. He is a desperate man, desperate to grow, to learn, to understand; but
bound to fail at each of those things. No matter what he achieves in his
work, it will never help him change; that is the tragedy of his life and the
failure of the film. I think Cage has done a
fine job of capturing the person of David; he is not looking over David's
shoulders at us, as if to say "This isn't really me." And Hope
Davis is once again a miraculous actor; with few words and little screen time
she gives us a wonderfully rounded portrait of a woman who's finally found a
way to grow and take charge of her life. Michael Caine,
as David's father, must deal with an underwritten part; he's little more than
the voice of maturity here, but as always he commands the screen whenever
he's on it. The two children are also fine; sullen, hurt, hopeful. But all of
them have been let down by a script that is determined to stay on the dark
side. 10/28/05
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