Author: Christian Sauvé

  • Casino Royale (2006)

    Casino Royale (2006)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, November 2006) At a time where we thought we could simply dismiss all new James Bond entries as scarcely more than action films, here’s another reinvention of the franchise that goes back to the dark psychological roots of the character, and doesn’t forget to include two or three of the best action scenes of the year, smoothly wrapped in the classic glamour and exoticism of the series. Daniel Craig is very good in the iconic role, presenting a performance that’s closer to Connery (or Ian Fleming’s own depiction) than any of the other Bonds since. The direction is nervy enough, the script is polished and the cinematography is luscious. The only notable problems are a long lull late in the film, a torture scene that sticks a bit too closely to the original book and a whiff of the familiar “love conquers secret agent before making him even meaner” series plot. But really, what else do you need to know? Bond’s back, and his future looks bright.

  • Babel (2006)

    Babel (2006)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, November 2006) One gunshot, four stories. But while the presence of a rifle, deadly danger, abusive policemen and an investigation that spans the globe may suggest an international thriller, Babel is closer to a set of four very intimate dramas. But then again, Babel isn’t about the stories as much as it’s about the way people fail to communicate, or simply the way they all live in today’s world. The solid ensemble cast is one of the finest international group of actors assembled for a single film: While American mainstream audiences will flock to see Cate Blanchett and Brad Pitt, their presence is scarcely more than a small portion of the entire film. The direction is skillful despite the impression that the stories aren’t as linked, nor as interesting as the screenplay wants them to be. It’s certainly a film for an older, less impatient audience, what with the time-jumping, relatively small scales and sometimes-unnerving subject matter. It speaks volumes, for instance, that any discussion of “horny Japanese schoolgirls” in the context of this film is a prelude to unimaginable heartache more than anything else: the conclusion is as significant for what didn’t happen that what did. And that’s the kind of film Babel ends up being, despite depending on one single gunshot.

  • The Prestige, Christopher Priest

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Tor, 1995 (2006 reprint), 360 pages, C$18.95 tpb, ISBN 0-765-31734-6

    Given how often movie adaptations of good books are disappointing, a saner way to think about it would be to see adaptations as lavish advertisements for the humble book that inspired it all. For those without any knowledge of the story, why not upgrade the experience by going from the film to the book?

    That’s part of the reason why I deliberately held off on reading Christopher Priest’s The Prestige until after I had seen the film. Given my knowledge of the Science Fiction genre, it’s rare that an SF film adaptation will tackle a book that I haven’t read: I thought it would be fun to do the plebeian thing and pick up the movie tie-in reissue.

    At this point, I could spend a lot of time discussing the meticulously well-constructed machine that is Christopher Nolan’s adaptation of THE PRESTIGE, but most of it boils down to two conclusions: First, the book and the movie are substantially different. Second, the film was far more satisfying than the book.

    Not that the book isn’t a success: Here, Priest plays around with the notion of feuding Victorian-era stage magicians, and the result is fascinating. More or less told through two diaries within a contemporary first-person framing device, The Prestige describes a duel between skilled illusionists who turn their obsessive nature to one-upping and humiliating each other. Their quest to defeat each other’s illusions gradually takes them in increasingly fantastic territory –although the “fantastic” here isn’t always related to science and technology.

    Perhaps the most compelling aspect of the novel is its exploration of the world of Victorian stage magic. At a time predating most of what we now regard as “mass entertainment”, stage magic was a big deal: It’s easy to imagine the whole of London looking on as Priest describes the routine of the job and explain the prestidigitator’s trade. (Though without explaining their tricks –another way the film is more satisfying.) The atmosphere is top-notch, and the illusion of verisimilitude is perfect.

    The diary format also allows Priest to delve deep into the minds of his unreliable diarists (which may serve to explain why the duller contemporary narration is less interesting) and give them all very different characteristics through simple use of language. Viewers of the movie won’t have any problem identifying the characters, even though the adaption takes liberties with at least one character by sheer necessity. Writing-wise, The Prestige is a pleasure to read, the Victorian-era language never overpowering the compulsively readable nature of the narrative, even for those who think they know the upcoming surprises.

    But there are some very important differences between book and novel. Even for such a twisty story, the plot turns and revelations are arranged in a different order, and the book contains at least two extra surprises that take the story much deeper into the Science Fiction genre. I’m not convinced that these extra twists are essential, though: By the time we’re back to the contemporary frame, the last surprises seem a bit inconsequential and superfluous: If the film has a particular strength, it’s to rearrange the revelations in such a way that they give an extra thematic meaning to the story: I particularly loved the way that the film one-ups its high-tech twist by one of the oldest double-switch trick there is.

    While the book is good and pleasant and immensely readable, it meanders without making optimal use of its own strengths. The film may be short and simple and predictable (to some), but it has the luxury of extracting the diamonds in the rough draft of Priest’s story, and stringing them along for a stronger narrative. Both stories are successes in their own chosen storytelling modes, but the film has an extra kick that can only leave viewers shaking their heads in admiration. (There’s probably an extra generalization to make here about what distinguishes good adaptations from bad ones, but I’ll leave that as an exercise to the reader.)

    Looking at my database of books read since 1994, I realized that I had never read any book by Christopher Priest before The Prestige, a curious oversight ill-explained by the confidential distribution of his books in North America. Whatever the reason, I have now started correcting the situation: Priest’s The Separation is now on my bookshelves. The Prestige, while a paler double of its own adaptation, convinced me to see out the rest of the author’s backlist.

  • Why Should I Cut Your Throat?, Jeff VanderMeer

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Monkeybrain, 2004, 335 pages, C$21.95 tpb, ISBN 1-932265-11-2

    Jeff VanderMeer has finally hit critical mass in the past few years, with the publication of a few books by major publishers and widespread attention from the SF blogosphere. Naturally, this “overnight success” only counts if you haven’t been paying attention. If that’s the case, his nonfiction collection Why Should I Cut Your Throat? is ample occasion to catch up on VanderMeer’s career so far.

    The pieces included here roughly cover four types of writing: Convention reports, autobiographical pieces, reviews and criticism. In a stroke of editorial genius, convention reports bookend the three other sections, offering an evolving portrait of VanderMeer. From the brash young man who storms into Atlanta’s Georgiacon 1990 finding fault with everyone he meets, to the seasoned pro who spends a good chunk of 2002 on the road with family and friends, this book could have been subtitled “Evolution of an Author” if the current “Excursions into the worlds of science fiction, fantasy & horror” wasn’t descriptive enough.

    The book works better if you already know and admire VanderMeer’s other publications. The book’s first section is about the writer and his work, and is filled with references to his existing bibliography: A lengthy article alone details the problems that VanderMeer had in realizing his vision of City of Saints & Madmen with a POD publisher: an odyssey of several years and nightmarish efforts. I found it fascinating, but then again there’s a copy of the book sitting on my shelves. Knowing all about VanderMeer’s work is much easier now that he’s being published by major publishers such as Tor and Bantam Spectra, but don’t let that stop you from enjoying the rest of the book. It helps that VanderMeer writes with clarity and enthusiasm: Chances are that even if you only know the outline of his career, you ‘ll be able to follow along.

    Most of the VanderMeer-specific references become less important in the latter two sections of the collection anyway: The “Reviews” section should be of interest to any literary fantasy fan, with short takes on a variety of pieces from various SF&F novels to individual issues of magazines. As a reviewer, VanderMeer is well-informed and fearless: as a result, it’s perhaps easier to enjoy his take-down of Martin Scott’s Thraxas than his admiration of M. John Harrison’s Light. But he certainly knows what makes a story tick, as demonstrated by his even-handed considerations on China Miéville’s The Scar and Iain M. Banks’ Look to Windward. A trio of “Read This!” pieces for the New York Review of Science-Fiction offers quick take on a variety of topics.

    The “Criticism” section is hit-and-miss, though I suspect that this has more to do with my lack of knowledge in classic fantasy literature than to any failing in VanderMeer’s own pieces. To his credit, he has managed to convince me that I should have a look at Edward Whittemore’s Jerusalem Quartet. Unfortunately, he hasn’t managed the same trick with Angela Carter in either of his lengthy appreciations. I was rather more inspired by the polemics “Horror: Alive or Dead?” and “The Death of the Imagination?” —though I came away from the latter convinced that I suck as a reviewer. Not that this will ever stop me.

    But let’s go back to the convention reports, because they’re the pieces who glue the book together. Four report, four stops along the way of VanderMeer’s career. I must admire his guts in allowing the first two convention report being republished presumably as-is: Sometimes, they read much like a lengthy version of “Here’s What I Hated During My Summer Holidays”. VanderMeer takes potshots at a bunch of people, is dismissive of the convention scene and can’t figure out what he has in common with those people. But those are the adventures of a young writer: The latter two reports are far more generous, and reflect VanderMeer’s growing stature in the field. What’s more, all reports are very well-written, and the first two contain their moments of laugh-aloud hilarity. They say things that may occur to anyone stuck at bad conventions and even lousier panels. No fantasy convention, after all, can withstand the scrutiny of a non-fan.

    With time, VanderMeer has become somewhat more diplomatic, though not entirely so: A look at his current on-line presence shows that he remains blessedly candid about what he dislikes and channels the more outrageous stuff through his “Evil Monkey” alter-ego. Why Should I Cut Your Throat? is not just a glimpse at his growth as a writer, but it’s the kind of book fit to transform any existing reader into a fan. I may never know as much about fantasy as VanderMeer does, or ever write anywhere near his level, but I’m glad that he’s out there figuring it out and showing the way. With luck, we’ll get another non-fiction book collection from him soon.

  • The Omega Game, Steven Krane [Steven Swiniarski]

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    DAW, 2000, 387 pages, C$9.99 mmpb, ISBN 0-88677-907-3

    Here’s a question for the avid readers in the crowd: Do you have books “that got away”? Not necessarily books that were never returned by borrowers, or books that were destroyed in various disasters, but books that you wished you had read but somehow missed your chance to buy, borrow or otherwise acquire.

    For years, there was one book that got away from me. At the time where my ability to read far outstripped the money I had left after paying the mortgage, I couldn’t purchase everything I found interesting and even using the library wasn’t a surefire process. I would browse in bookstores and think really hard about the books I wanted to purchase within my budget, rejecting even some of the most intriguing ones.

    That how, for years, I remembered considering a thriller in which participants were stuck on a desert island, playing a game that they scarcely understood. I couldn’t, of course, remember the title or the author. And so it seemed destined to remain, especially given the short shelf-life of paperback thrillers.

    But fortune struck late this month, as a trip to a new department store revealed a selection of discount paperback novels, one of which being Steven Krane’s The Omega Game: Exactly the book that had gotten away from me so many years before.

    The premise was exactly as I remembered it: Our protagonist wakes up in a hotel room, in a luxurious establishment overlooking a tropical beach. He has no memory of how he ended up in that hotel room. The hotel has twenty rooms, and every guest is in the same situation. Worse: they all discover signed copied of an agreement they can’t recall making. The agreement is a set of rules:

    1. I am a player in the Game.
    2. The players must participate in the Game
    3. The players may agree to change the rules
    4. The players must obey the rules or forfeit.
    5. The winner of the Game is the last player who has not forfeited.

    And that’s it. Savvy gamers have already recognized this open-ended game as a variant on what is sometimes known as “Nomic”: games designed to test the concept of rule-making itself. But as a premise for a thriller, this is crackerjack stuff: Anything can now happen. Those who got a thrill out of the Survivor TV shows will love this book.

    And Krane certainly doesn’t shy away from cranking up the tension. A few pages inside the novel, one of the twenty players is found murdered. What if “forfeiting” the game meant something more than walking away? As our protagonist tries to make sense of the situation, it also becomes obvious that some players definitely know more than others… and this information asymmetry does nothing to help the situation from slipping into barbaric hysteria.

    The first hundred pages of the book live up to the premise and the years of anticipation waiting for this novel. The mystery is thick and intriguing, and if the twenty players aren’t all gracefully introduced (or even all that compelling), the narrative energy of the novel compensates for everything else.

    The problems come later, when the premise of the situation must be explained and when the intricate potential of Nomic is pushed aside for more conventional thriller mechanics. It’s almost inevitable that the explanation, while satisfactory on a base level, strips away some of the intriguing possibilities suggested earlier in the novel. It also feels as if the story is lessened by an excursion far from the hotel: by breaking unity of place, Krane sets himself up for a diffused impact. Worse is the very abrupt ending, which pulls off a neat logic trick but fails to follow it up by a denouement: a number of character threads are left untied in favour of a final punchline. An epilogue certainly wouldn’t have hurt.

    And yet, generally speaking, The Omega Game fulfilled my expectations, even those stoked by years of thinking the book had gotten away from me. It’s an intriguing thriller, and if it may not be the best conceivable take on Nomic, I certainly enjoyed the attempt… and wouldn’t mind seeing another one, by Krane or another.

  • Left Behind, Tim LaHaye & Jerry B. Jenkins

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Living Books, 1995, 342 pages, US$7.99 mmpb, ISBN 0-8423-4270-2

    I can confirm the rumours: I was seen reading Left Behind on OC Transpo buses in October 2006.

    You may ask why someone like me, devoid of any churchgoing sympathies, would want to read one of the biggest religious bestsellers of the past decade. The answer would be something like “know your enemy”. Or, at least, being able to discuss the phenomenon from a first-person perspective. I may not care all that much for the American evangelical movement, but my loathing for people who feels comfortable dismissing books they haven’t read is even worse —especially when it’s so easy to find a copy.

    A bit of historical background may be useful for those few who don’t know anything about the “Left Behind” series: Starting in 1996, this twelve-book epic describes the “End Times” following the Rapture. As the first volume begins, a small portion of the global population has simply disappeared, provoking no end of questions and theories. What our characters come to understand during this first episode is that this is indeed the End Game and many adventures lie ahead. Our four series protagonists are introduced in this volume, along with an Antichrist named “Nicolae Carpathia”. The book concludes with the formation of a “Tribulation Force” vowing to fight evil, make the world safe for Jesus and keep the readers entertained for the next eleven novels.

    The “Left Behind” series has since grown into a gigantic franchise, with 40+ million copies sold. Aside from the dozen original novels, there are now three prequels, two spin-off series, a teen adaptation, audiobooks, a graphic novel, a video game and even three movies starring Kirk Cameron. Media empire? I report: you decide. The series has certainly attracted its share of controversy, becoming yet another subject of contemplation in the endless debate about religious fundamentalism in the US. Reading it is almost a political statement. Lambasting or dismissing it seems almost de rigueur in the well-meaning secular circles I frequent.

    But never mind the controversy: What about the book? you ask. Is it any good?

    Well, no.

    But that doesn’t mean it’s uninteresting.

    Like it or not, the Rapture is a big fun idea. Science Fiction itself has used it a number of times, sometimes literally (Heinlein’s Job), sometimes not (Robert Charles Wilson’s The Harvest, still fascinating fifteen years later) but often in a jokey, quasi-satiric fashion. Seeing true believers take on the subject has an added interest. What if the devout just disappeared? How would people react to the sight of people going poof in the air? For all of its faults, Left Behind is most enjoyable when it deals with the repercussions of this scenario. Intriguingly, it suggests that children (from conception to about six years of age) get a free pass to Heaven: Pregnant women find themselves with flat bellies (though what happens to the non-foetus part of their pregnancy is left unmentioned), maternity wards are emptied and there’s a curious lack of reaction from befuddled parents. More confusingly, it also suggests that the Catholic pope is also taken along for the ride, which raises questions of doctrine I’m not even equipped to touch. On the other hand, the novel stays quiet about what happens in non-Christian nations, an oversight that is probably corrected in the latter novels.

    But whatever enjoyment I took from the novel was derived from the more explicit Science Fiction details. As a thriller, Left Behind is limp by design: though the characters are flawed in interesting ways (they were left behind, after all), LaHaye and Jenkins are holding their punches for latter volumes. It doesn’t help that the geopolitical background of the story is less than convincing. Not only does it feature a scientist who can magically hydrate deserts or a divine miracle in which Israel escapes a massive Russian nuclear attack (!!!), it also presumes that when the Antichrist will come waltzing in, he will be able to seize control of the world through the UN without anyone else objecting. (On the other hand, the inevitable scene in which the Antichrist is revealed to be, well, the Antichrist, is pretty well-done in an over-the-top fashion.)

    But that still leaves me struggling to find something better to say about the book than “Eh, some good fantasy bits.” If I can find some interest in the series, then it may not be any surprise to find that the true believers would enjoy it as more than a think-toy. Yes, I could rant on and on about the nonsense of the novel, the poor writing and the rise of militant evangelism as exemplified by this series, but why bother? These points were made elsewhere. As for me, I’ll simply find a way to marvel at how some SF bits can unite both science-fiction fans and fundamentalist Christians.

  • On SF, Tom Disch

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    University of Michigan Press, 2005, 271 pages, C$28.95 tpb, ISBN 0-472-06896-2

    There may be two Tom Disches.

    The first is the one I (very) briefly met in person at Readercon in July 2006. A gentle giant teddy bear of a man, erudite and polite, a shining example of a literary intellectual who has aged well. Look at the back of On SF, and you will find his picture. (One that, I hasten to add, has an eerie resemblance to another person I know, a senior bureaucrat in the Canadian federal public service for whom I served: That may explain my instinctive trust in Disch from the first moment I saw him.) This is the same Disch whose LiveJournal blog features poetry and anguish at the state of the world.

    But this is not the Tom Disch who wrote this collection of critical essays on Science Fiction. No, that Tom Disch is on the front cover of On SF: Full dark beard, mean stare, tattooed arms crossed in defiance. Disch as a hell-raiser, as someone who’s not going to play by the overly permissive rules of genre criticism. The book’s subtitle raises the stakes: “A last judgement on the genre from science fiction’s foremost critic.” The book’s first essay (“The embarrassments of Science Fiction”) further drive home the point: SF, argues Disch, is a branch of children’s literature.

    And bang: we’re off.

    Later on, he offers the following statement of intention, which I can’t help but quote at length:

    Ideological silliness is an affliction more tolerable in the young, and, for reasons I’ve tried to lay out, exactly the same may be said of a taste for science fiction. This is not meant to be my way of abjuring the field or declaring that I am not now nor have I ever been a science fiction writer. I have been and I continue to be. I will even go on reading and reviewing the stuff, as long as some small portion of what is published continues to suit my taste. But I won’t act as a booster for the genre as a whole, which has become, as a publishing phenomenon, one of the major symptoms or, if not a causal agent in, the dumbing-down of the younger generation and the lowering of the lowest common denominator. [P.36]

    Yes. Yes, even if I’m in that SF-afflicted generation. It’s good to have perspective. I’m willing to consider the idea: SF as a dumbed down branch of children’s literature? Please tell me more.

    And Disch does. Coming from a more literary sensibility than many of SF’s authors and critics, Disch pulls no punches and can rely on an impressive set of references to make his point. Having written a number of now-classic SF novels, Disch has the credibility and the knowledge to criticize the genre as an insider. His take-downs are merciless and insightful: The two-part evisceration of Whitley Strieber’s “Alien Abduction” books may be taking on an easy target, but the quality of the argumentation is astonishing. One sometimes get the impression that he’s slumming by using his vast intellect to dissect inconsequential subjects. His overview of the early-eighties horror field, “The King and his Minions”, exemplifies overkill.

    But my problems with the book have more to do with what’s omitted than what’s included. Sure, Disch overuses the unfamiliar expression “hugger-mugger” a few times in close proximity, but that not’s nearly as annoying as a lack of references for when the reviews were written. A partial list of acknowledgements at the very end of the book provides a number of dates, but not for all pieces. It takes away part of the pleasure of the book: As every piece begins, we have to guess the historical context and make sense of the references. Hopefully, readers will have a good memory of the eighties…

    I’m not necessarily saying that the book is dated: Disch’s criticism is solid and can be enjoyed even when his subjects have practically vanished from culture. But his pieces should have been grounded with easy date-and-publication credentials: the context would have helped the flow of the pieces.

    Still, that’s a minor issue: even with it, we’re left with an uncompromising book of SF criticism. Like his once-classmate John Clute, Disch understands the genre like few others and doesn’t pull any punches. The next time I meet him, I’ll know the truth: There’s really only one Tom Disch, and he’s not going to be satisfied with children’s literature or easy excuses.

  • Protect and Defend, Eric L. Harry

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Berkley, 1999, 649 pages, C$9.99 mmpb, ISBN 0-425-16814-X

    Eric L. Harry’s Protect and Defend is so much fun to read that it takes a while to realize that it’s largely insane.

    Up to a certain point, that’s not really a surprise: Harry’s first two novels, Arc Light (a post-nuclear war thriller) and Society of the Mind (a techno-thriller starring killer robots), both distinguished themselves by plot elements that, really, were pretty far out there. In comparison, Protect and Defend‘s opening salvo of anarchistic violence seem pretty tame. Even when Russia is taken over by anarchists, when China decides to take extra territory for itself and when NATO forces must intervene in Siberia to stop hordes of Chinese soldiers, it almost seems ordinary.

    Harry’s crisp matter-of-fact prose style accounts for much of this comfort: After reading plenty of military thrillers with unconvincing writing and even worse characters, it was something to a relief to find competent storytelling. This may not be great literature as scholars understand the term, but in terms of big thick military thrillers, this really isn’t all that bad. Harry isn’t a serving military officer, and this may explain why he’s able to deliver a full-fledged military adventure (complete with tactical maps) and yet still carry along his civilian readers to the end.

    The characters are familiar, but not unpleasantly so: The iconoclastic commanding officer with a penchant for intervening too closely; the teenager who learns to be all he can be thanks to the military; the well-meaning regular guy suddenly thrust into a position of power; the bright young female reporter chasing a story; the evil mastermind behind the radical movement… it’s all familiar but so well-done that it’ll take a while for you to slam on your mental brakes and scream “Wait a minute! This doesn’t make sense!”

    And indeed, in the flurry of the opening pages’ slam-bang succession of action, terrorist assassinations and wide-scale chaos, it’s easy to forget that Harry’s opening act is far-fetched enough to be senseless. Anarchists organizing long enough to ferment political unrest? Taking their cues from a supreme leader? Someone’s using the word “anarchism” without quite understanding what it means…

    What’s more, the thought of Russia descending in anarchy bears no resemblance to the Russians’ historical flirtation with authoritarianism. But Harry needs to kneecap his imagined Russia so that it can’t defend Siberia against Chinese invaders, so it may be best to overlook that particular objection.

    Still, seven years and at least three geopolitical contexts after the book’s initial publication, it goes without saying that the geopolitics of the novel are no longer valid: Its “global anarchist threat” seems quite amusing in this era of fundamentalist terrorism. On the other hand, Protect and Defend has survived a great deal better than many of its 1999 contemporaries. The thought of American going head-to-head with China during the Siberian winter still carries along a chill: One could imagine this novel, retooled slightly, being released today. Of course, one would then have to account for why a gun-shy post-Iraq USA would gladly charge to defend a piece of frozen Russian soil against an enemy that can actually attack with more than IEDs… But that’s the kind of detail that techno-thriller writers are born to explain.

    The overall impression that carries through the book is that the Siberian military action is fabulous, while the Russian political subplot is almost embarrassingly weak. By the time the Russians are joyously starving to death in the streets under benevolent anarchistic laissez-faire, enough is enough and the whole edifice of the novel nearly crumbles on its weak foundations. Worse is the disconnect between the military side and the political repercussions on either the domestic US front or the wider worldwide scale. The final epilogue, lightly borrowed from the end of Society of the Mind, is similarly disappointing: But then again, I place little trust in the “Great Man” theory of politics, especially when in veers in predestination.

    On the other hand, the military engagements are described with a good deal of vividness and sympathy toward the characters stuck in those atrocious conditions, as long as you can learn to ignore the larger context. Fans of Tom Clancy (including those who were disappointed with the broadly similar The Bear and the Dragon) will appreciate the good military action and take refuge in generally familiar characters. They’ll just have to learn how to deal with the wonky geopolitics and the preposterous developments.

  • A Sound Of Thunder (2005)

    A Sound Of Thunder (2005)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On DVD, October 2006) Believe the hype. Or, in this case, the cries and lamentation of scorched viewers around the world as they warn you to stay away from this piece of trash. Knowing that this was (briefly) released in theatres is the only thing that separates this film from the usual straight-to-video crap. If a big budget was involved in the production of this film, you won’t know it by looking at the screen: the special effects are some of the worst in recent memory (oy, that rear-projection!), and the film’s overall look is nothing to cheer about. The actors aren’t much better, with cut-rate performances (to use the term loosely) by Edward Burns and Ken Kingsley. But worst of all is the script, which manages a decent opening before floundering in “time waves” tripe and the usual “pick them off one by one until only the hero and love interest are left” structure. (Worse: the shape of the ending is visible one hour early, and it keeps going well after the point has been made.) Cutting away all that’s bad about the film would give you a meagre five minutes’ worth of acceptable material, but nothing more. Had the filmmakers been more self-aware, there may have been some camp value to this. But it ends up with all of the sophistication of a 50s monster movie, except without the excuse that they didn’t know any better. To think that it sullies a classic SF short story…

  • The Prestige (2006)

    The Prestige (2006)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, October 2006) Yes, I just spoiled a good part of the film by classifying it as “Science Fiction”. One wouldn’t think, for instance, that SF would apply to a tale about feuding magicians at the turn of the nineteenth century: But by telling you that Nikola Tesla is involved and that the film is adapted from the novel by renowned SF author Christopher Priest, I’m not exactly revealing anything that can’t be deduced from the movie poster. Yet The Prestige is such a sure-footed piece of cinema that I could tell you the ending right away and you would still enjoy the entire film. It gives you enough clues to figure it all out, sometimes through heavy symbolism, but the way it’s all put together is nothing short of amazing. There’s some serious skill at work here, from the direction to the set decoration to the writing: At some point, the film delves into three levels of flashbacks yet still makes perfect sense, playing back and forth with dramatic irony, multiple diaries/narration, fascinating details about the stage magic industry and a wonderful small role for David Bowie as Nikola Tesla. Though the take-no-prisoners ending relies too much on its tricks and not enough on its emotional content, there’s a lot to like here. The images are gorgeous, the acting is fun (fans of Christian Bale and Hugh Jackman will not be disappointed), the direction is slick and the story is mesmerizing.

  • The Order (2003)

    The Order (2003)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On DVD, October 2006) Weak stuff, very weak stuff. While there’s something interesting in the idea of someone who burdens himself with the sins of others (hey, I was raised a good French Canadian Catholic, you know?), it’s certainly not a limp effort like The Order that’s going to fulfil that potential. Bad pretentious dialogue is actually one of the film’s lesser problems: the lack of interest in what’s going on is far more damaging. There is little here that we haven’t seen anywhere else: even Constantine was a lot more fun to watch. The actors don’t even try to improve things: It’s worth noting that once-hot Shannyn Sossamon has slunk back in obscurity since this last big-budget effort, which isn’t completely surprising given the lack of screen presence she exhibits here. If there’s one thing saving this film from complete collapse, it’s the beautiful cinematography and the sometimes-competent camera work: It may be a boring horror film, but it’s also a very pretty one, and that’s at least something to raise it above the usual scary-Catholic snoozefests. Weak comforts for a weak film.

  • The Fourth Bear, Jasper Fforde

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Hodder & Stoughton, 2006, 383 pages, C$24.95 tpb, ISBN 0-340-83572-9

    First, a quick note to existing Jasper Fforde fans who may still be wondering if The Fourth Bear is worth reading: Yes, it is. As a follow-up to The Big Over Easy, it’s seamless. You won’t be disappointed. Go get it.

    But chances are that there are no existing Fforde fans who are still wondering if they should pick up The Fourth Bear. Fforde’s fiction is so unique, so inimitably his own that he tends to attracts a cult-like following. Better yet: his books have a pleasant consistency of quality that makes it hard to quit once you’ve enjoyed one. After a highly successful quartet of meta-fictional novels featuring detective Thursday Next, Fforde side-stepped into an alternate universe of “Nursery Crimes” with The Big Over Easy: The Fourth Bear is its sequel.

    As with the previous volume, Jack Spratt’s universe is a highly unusual combination of sentient animals, nursery rhymes brought to life, unique crime-fighters and strange sporting pursuits such as competitive cucumber-growing. Jack Spratt, constantly underfunded and underestimated, finds himself suspended after a regrettable incident featuring the Gingerbreadman, and must be discreet in investigating the disappearance of a golden-haired reporter last seen going into a house with three bears.

    The beauty of Fforde’s fiction is how he manages to cram jokes, ideas and plots in the same space. A telling cover blurb (“Great not just because it’s very funny but also because it works properly as a whodunit” —Observer) highlight that despite the ridiculousness of Fforde’s invented universes, his plotting is rigorous and holds up to elementary scrutiny. Indeed, The Fourth Bear is his best mystery yet: I found myself reading along for the plot as much as for the jokes, especially when it veered from crime novel to thriller. The ending itself is a solid piece of suspense and action writing.

    But this doesn’t mean that there aren’t jokes, of course. Among other things, Fforde spends an inordinate amount of time setting up a multi-barrelled pun so awful that even the characters in the novel remark “It seems a very laborious set-up for a pretty lame joke, doesn’t it?”, followed by “Yes, I really don’t know how he gets away from it.” [P.320]. More familiar puns, such as “the right to arm bears”, make a better impression and form the backbone of the plot. At least Fforde partially redeems himself by coining the word “thermocuclear”, not as a typo, but as a punchline. And I’m not going into that whole porridge smuggling subplot, or what happens when Dorian Gray becomes a used car salesman. Add to that an series of numbered Plot Devices that the characters can see coming, and the meta-fictional games of Fforde’s previous fiction aren’t all that far away.

    But jokes aren’t all that worth remembering about The Fourth Bear. In terms of characterization, Fforde delves a bit deeper into Jack Spratt’s own history, giving him a bit of marital strife when his wife learns that he’s a Person of Dubious Reality. Meanwhile, the relationship between his assistants Mary Mary and Constable Ashley gets upgraded one notch, leading to a laugh-out-loud scene in orbit that’s too good to spoil.

    I’m pleased to note that the “Nursery Rhyme” aspect of this novel is a bit lighter than in The Big Over Easy. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the concept: It’s just that as someone who grew up in an all-francophone household, my comptines are not quite the same as the ones taught in English: some of the references in the series fly way over my head, and that feeling of being left out of some jokes didn’t seem as strong in this second entry. (Although some of Punch and Judy material is very British and would benefit from a bit of contextual reading: Fforde attempts riskier humour than usual with those characters, and some of it approaches bad taste.)

    Overall, this is a smooth read, easily as good as the author’s previous novels. That Fforde is writing deliriously funny novels is one thing: That he’s able to do so with regularity (at the rhythm of one novel per year since 2001) is even more astonishing. If you haven’t jumped on the Fforde express yet, go back to The Eyre Affair and work your way up: If you like the first book, chances are that you won’t be able to stop from reading them all.

  • The Marine (2006)

    The Marine (2006)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, October 2006) For once, the trailers weren’t lying: If you thought that dumb action movies starring bodybuilders went out of vogue with the end of the eighties, take heart in this renaissance. The Marine is exactly the type of movie where stuff blows up real good, allowing the hero to escape with only nanoseconds to spare. The plot is as simplistic as it can be (robbers kidnap hero’s wife; chase ensues) and the action never attains a superior level of interest, but the film proves to be relatively enjoyable on its own terms. The car chase is particularly fun, and the dozens of explosions never get old. What helps is the film’s self-awareness: It’s stuffed with small inconsequential scenes that almost act as self-parody, from a car-shop discussion on the inappropriateness of minivans to the villain flirting with the heroine in the middle of a chase. Small nonsense touches such as an Iraqi “Al Quaeda compound” with tanks and the South Carolina Highway patrol force using a high-performance sports car as a cruiser (!) add to the fun. Two of the film’s best gags come from a mirror glance and a small musical cue, both meant as references to classic films. Robert Patrick chews scenery like he’s enjoying the raw taste of it, while John Cena doesn’t have to do much but look stoic. Still, what keeps The Marine from being considered a classic guilty pleasure is that despite the potential of its elements, it keeps holding back on its own insanity. Worse: it’s never entirely tonally consistent, goofing up by (for instance) making a bad guy somewhat sympathetic before killing him thirty seconds later. Oops. Action fans craving some old-school payback action will find a lot to like here, but I suspect that the film will have no cross-over appeal for anyone else.

  • Flags Of Our Fathers (2006)

    Flags Of Our Fathers (2006)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, October 2006) History is fine and war history is even better, but mixing the two is a risky prospect. The battle of Iwo Jima was due for a post-Saving Private Ryan retelling. Unfortunately, his Flags Of Our Fathers often feels like the mash-up between two or three movies that might have been better left separated: First, you have the spectacular historical recreation, depicting men at war with the realism that only CGI reconstruction can provide. This section of the film is easily its highlight: It’s tense, chaotic, confusing, exhilarating and feels extraordinarily real. The famous raising of the flag itself is excellent, even if it’s not quite what we expect… and definitely doesn’t mean the end of the fighting. But this war drama is only less than half the film. The other almost-half of the film follows some of the flag-raisers as they’re brought back to the United States in an effort to promote War Bonds. While more thematically interesting, this section of the film is generously spliced in between the war fighting, giving the false impression of a deeper structure pulling it all together. Finally, the rest of the film is dedicated to a contemporary framing device that gives context, but also an unfortunate dose of on-the-nose “Greatest Generation” melodrama. And though, taken separately, most of Flags Of Our Fathers‘ segments are skilfully executed, their union somehow feels lesser than the sum of its parts. Part of it, I suspect, is that the filming took place simultaneously with another film, Letters From Iwo Jima, telling the same battle from the Japanese side of the events. Maybe we’ll have to wait until that film to drawn our conclusions… or maybe we’ll be able to mix-and-match segments from two films in order to tell four stories!

  • The Departed (2006)

    The Departed (2006)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, October 2006) We’ve been waiting a long time for the 2006 Oscar contenders and now that fall is here, they’re finally starting to come out of the woodwork. First up: A gritty Boston-flavoured remake of the fabulous Infernal Affairs by none other than Martin Scorsese. For once, the remake is worth it: The plot beats remain intact but the sequences are generally different, the Boston setting infuses every character and the dialogue is beyond delicious. While the impact of the concept is wasted on Infernal Affairs fans (I do miss the conference table scene), the pieces of this intricate double-cross game are moved with skill and the film-making aspect of the end product is very slick. Mark Wahlberg and Alec Baldwin are flashy with their aggressive dialogue, but even they take a second role to the combined star power of Matt Damon, Leonardo Di Caprio and Jack Nicholson: For once, the hype is real and the actors truly live up to their reputation. This may or may not be Scorsese’s best film since Casino, but it’s certainly in the top list for 2006.