Jeff Bridges

  • Living in the Future’s Past (2018)

    Living in the Future’s Past (2018)

    (On TV, October 2020) As its remarkably evocative title suggests, Living in the Future’s Past is a high-level, large-scope mediation on humanity’s place in its environment, how to think about a sustainable future, and what kind of world we create by our large-scale actions. Actor-producer Jeff Bridges narrates the film in addition to having had a substantial impact on its themes, and his gravelly voice is a joy to listen to. But better yet still is the sharp high-definition cinematography, reaching into nature footage and CGI to present a visual soundtrack to the narration. The editing is often too rapid, but it’s a nice change of pace from the film’s many talking heads. Alas, Living in the Future’s Past has many of its qualities’ flaws: it’s unfocused, shallow, a bit twee at times and unable to settle on a clear approach. But for its faults, I still found it irresistibly optimistic, hopeful and energizing—it’s not a documentary per se as much as an essay about tackling challenges.

  • Hearts of the West (1975)

    Hearts of the West (1975)

    (On Cable TV, September 2020) I had a harder time than I expected in watching Hearts of the West. Starring Jeff Bridges as a 1930s naïve would-be writer heading west to gather fresh material for his prose, and then to Hollywood to escape a pair of criminals, this film has a lot of elements that I would consider enjoyable. Bridges as a young man, some material about naïve writers, the ever-cute Blythe Danner as the love interest (any resemblance to Gwyneth Paltrow is strictly maternal) and, more interestingly, a look at Hollywood in the everything-goes 1930s before westerns became respectable. But it’s when you dig into the details that it all becomes much messier. For instance, I never got a good handle on its lead character: written as a naïve kid with literary delusions, he’s played by a too-old Bridges as somewhat wiser than what’s on the page: I would have enjoyed the film more had the character been something else—perhaps coming from an eastern city rather than the farm, or something. And while Hearts of the West has been described as having an off-beat tone, the reality feels more undisciplined than anything else: the good moments are undercut with tonal shifts and tangents that don’t do much to reinforce the film itself. Oh, Alan Arkin is good as an old-school producer and Andy Griffith is unusually likable as a has-been star would-be plagiarist. But the low budget seemingly limits the film from creating an immersive look at 1930s filmmaking, and the film doesn’t have a plot as much as an excuse to string along various scenes. In the end, Hearts of the West is intermittently interesting, not quite as likable as it should have been and somewhat vexing in how it squanders promising elements.

  • Thunderbolt and Lightfoot (1974)

    Thunderbolt and Lightfoot (1974)

    (YouTube Streaming, September 2020) Ah, the 1970s New Hollywood! A time so predictable in its overdone nihilism that it couldn’t have even a simply buddy road movie without killing off one of its lead characters by the end! I’m not jesting: While most saner hands at another time in Hollywood’s history would have maintained Thunderbolt and Lightfoot’s lighthearted tone throughout, here is Michael Cimino doing his Cimino thing of ensuring that no one in the theatre is happy by the end of the film. Headlined by Clint Eastwood as a grizzled robber and Jeff Bridges as a happy-go-lucky drifter, Thunderbolt and Lightfoot starts out firmly in outlaw comedy, as Eastwood is disguised as a preacher and pursued by a gunman through field, after which he’s hit by Bridges’ car. Taking the younger man under his wing (and vice versa, up to a point), the veteran tells of a robbery haul still in the wild, hidden behind the blackboard of a one-classroom rural school. Pursued by two ex-members of Eastwood’s crew, they drive across a chunk of the American heartland to discover that the school is gone. Thinking of nothing better to do, they hatch another robbery, taking aim at the same place with the same tactics. For much of its duration, Thunderbolt and Lightfoot is a decently entertaining crime comedy, with antagonists not quite willing to pull the trigger on the protagonist and the protagonist working with the antagonists to reach their objectives. But this amiable façade comes crashing down at the very end, with characters meeting messy ends and one of them slumped over dead. How did we get there? The answer is “early 1970s,” obviously. While people always talk about Cimino’s second (The Deer Hunter) and third (Heaven’s Gate) films, this debut is worth noticing as well: Other than the downbeat ending, we can see Cimino taking utmost advantage of widescreen cinematography in his portrayal of the modern American west and the roads on which our characters travel from one part of the script to the other. Still, movies live or die on their endings, and the ending of Thunderbolt and Lightfoot seems unearned and unlikely to make anyone want to revisit the film as a romp.

  • Against All Odds (1984)

    Against All Odds (1984)

    (In French, On TV, July 2020) As much as the idea of remaking classic noir film Out of the Past is promising, most will agree that Against All Odds ends up being a curiously inert romantic thriller. Clearly part of the 1980s trend of remaking noir movies, it’s perhaps too successful in loosely updating the material that it ends up feeling more like a generic 1980s thriller rather than carrying anything of its illustrious predecessor. Jeff Bridges is not bad (and bearded) in the lead role, while a young James Woods is quite creepy as the antagonist. Meanwhile, Rachel Ward does better than expected as a femme fatale with shorter curly hair, but she too does mark the film as mid-1980s vintage. The story advances forth through a trip to Mexico and back, sombre sport fixing schemes, assorted criminals and vengeful lovers, but remains middle-of-the road throughout. Workmanlike direction from Taylor Hackford doesn’t help. At a minimum, Against All Odds does hold attention and delivers a story of love, crime and death, but it’s nowhere near its Out of the Past inspiration, and doesn’t feel special in any way.

  • Blown Away (1994)

    Blown Away (1994)

    (Second Viewing, In French, On TV, January 2020) Back in 1994, there were many comparisons made between Speed and Blown Away, most of them to the second film’s disadvantage. The pairing wasn’t arbitrary: here were, after all, a pair of movies talking about a mad bomber targeting protagonists in picturesque American cities. Most reviewers felt that Speed fully indulged in the craziness of its premise, while Blown Away was too dour and, crucially, disarmed its bombs when, in the words of Speed’s script, “A bomb is made to explode. That’s its meaning. Its purpose. Your life is empty because you spend it trying to stop the bomb from becoming.” Having seen both at the time (Blown Away at a drive-in theatre, if I remember correctly), I definitely agreed: Blow Away was too dull, too serious about itself, especially in comparison to Speed, which remains one of the all-time greatest action movies. A second take on Blown Away twenty-five years later is more generous, but not by much: Absent unfair comparisons with Speed, Blown Away is a good-enough thriller—conventional but with a few good moments, although with too many odd missteps along the way to be fully satisfying. Jeff Bridges does well as the protagonist, although the film’s troubles start at the opening scene as it mines the murky fractious nature of the Irish Troubles for backstory and uncomfortable character motivations. (He does get a few scenes playing opposite his father Lloyd Bridges.) Tommy Lee Jones is far more enjoyable hamming it up as a crazy villain, although it’s worth noting that his character’s various eccentricities run dramatically at odds with the more serious tone of the rest of the film. This issue pops up again and again throughout Blown Away: A crazy idea creating tone problems when placed against the darker underpinning of the story. It tries to be both a hard-edged thriller but can’t resist the pull of an overblown action scene or funny moment. Forest Whitaker hangs at the edge of the plot as another bomb specialist with personal animosities with the lead—he’s an unconventional choice for the role, but the adversarial relationship between the two characters works well. Finally, Boston plays the fourth-biggest role in Blown Away, as the script gives up a highlight tour of some of the city’s tourist attractions. As someone who has visited Boston more often than any other American city (perhaps even combined) since the mid-1990s, I really enjoyed seeing big action sequences set in places I’ve seen a few times—with a particular affection for the explosive Trinity Church sequence. Blown Away does exemplify a kind of thriller that we frequently saw in the 1990s and less since then—it’s pretty much the same exact “killer psycho fixates on protagonist, kills his friends and colleagues, etc.” plot although with bombs. Still, it doesn’t quite understand how to have a consistent tone and exploit the elements it has at its disposal. A common critique of 1994 remains just as valid today and tells much: Here is a film with a climax in which an orchestra plays the 1812 overture… and it doesn’t even bother synchronizing the music with the climactic explosion.

  • Fearless (1993)

    Fearless (1993)

    (In French, On Cable TV, November 2019) There is something interesting about movies that dare navigate the fine line that separates realism from the extraordinary. Fearless is one of those movies that skirt the edge of a realistic drama by focusing on the survivor of a plane crash who develops some unusual psychological disorders, helped along by ambiguously fantastic events. Played by Jeff Bridges in one of his best roles, our protagonist overcompensates for his survivor’s guilt by becoming convinced that he is already dead, eating allergenic food without consequences and even crashing his car to make a point. His detachment from reality becomes spectacular at times, such as walking away from the crash scene without notifying anyone. His mental health issues are aggravated by the aftermath of the crash—the FBI investigation, the media attention, the legal proceedings, the guilt shared by fellow survivors. Directed by Peter Weir, who has often handled such tricky material, Fearless is an effective character study of someone ordinary in exceptional circumstances. A clever script heavily (but cleverly) relies on flashbacks to show us the before-and-after circumstances of the protagonist. With such skillful touches, Fearless is far more entertaining than expected for such weighty subject matter—and with such interesting actors as Rosie Perez (deservedly nominated for an Oscar), Isabella Rossellini, Benicio del Toro and John Turturro along for the ride, it’s also not a bad choice for anyone looking at the state of mainstream drama movies from the mid-1990s. Even if, at times, Fearless does push much realism as far as it can go.

  • Tucker: The Man and His Dream (1988)

    Tucker: The Man and His Dream (1988)

    (In French, On TV, August 2019) There are some odd corners in Francis Ford Coppola’s filmography, and I think that Tucker: The Man and His Dream just may be one of my favourites. Starring Jeff Bridges, this is the story (adapted from real events) of Preston Tucker, who tried launching his automobile company in the late 1940s. The real story is not particularly inspiring on the surface: Tucker manufactured 51 automobiles, got sued for fraud, and died a few years later without having achieved more than an initial success. But in this movie, Hollywood goes to work with its movie magic: Tucker is portrayed as taking on the Big Three automobile manufacturers, his board of directors, skeptics, governments and yellow journalism. He’s portrayed as a crusader for automobile safety, for innovation, even for the very notion of a better future. It ends with a triumphant parade of sorts, as fifty Tuckers are brought in Chicago to demonstrate what he was able to achieve. Even knowing the real story isn’t enough to wipe the smile off our faces while watching this unusually cheerful feature. Tucker: The Man and His Dream was a passion project for Coppola, whose father invested in the company and who spent decades developing the project. His enthusiasm is infectious, as the film easily charms viewers into accepting its premise without question. It helps that the cinematography is a variation of bright colourful vintage nostalgia, everything appearing just a bit shinier and better than usual. It’s enough to make anyone wonder why Coppola didn’t make more feel-good movies.

  • The Fabulous Baker Boys (1989)

    The Fabulous Baker Boys (1989)

    (On Cable TV, March 2019) I’m not going to suggest that Michelle Pfeiffer peaked at the end of the 1980s, not with the length and substance of her career since then. But The Fabulous Baker Boys does look like an early apex of sorts, cementing her rise to fame during the 1980s and solidifying her stature as a serious actress that could also turn up the sex appeal when needed. Considering that she’s the terrific centrepiece of the film, it’s good that she can take the pressure. As a lounge singer that acts as the push and pull between two musician brothers, she gets to play drama and sultriness—her “Making Whoopie” number while lying on a piano is deservedly remembered as the highlight of the film. Still, The Fabulous Baker Boys is also remarkable for a few other things. Detailing the personal and professional challenges of two brothers working the music lounges of the Seattle area, it goes for a retro feeling that makes it still timeless thirty years later. Writer-director Steve Kloves succeeds in creating a tone as sexy and jazzy and melancholic as the soundtrack suggests. Pfeiffer is accompanied by great performances from real-life brothers Jeff and Beau Bridges, with Jennifer Tilly showing up in a small two-scene role. As bittersweet as the film can be, the conclusion remains curiously satisfying: the characters don’t get what they initially want, but they’re probably better off from where they were at the start. The Fabulous Baker Boys all wraps up to a modest, but successful film—see it for Pfeiffer first, but stay for a well-controlled, well-executed small-scale drama.

  • Tron (1982)

    Tron (1982)

    (Second viewing, On DVD, August 2017) I approached a much-belated second viewing of Tron with some apprehension. While I remember being awed at the first one sometime in the mid-eighties (not to mention being aware of much of the promotional material upon the film’s release), I feared that the hype and subsequent cult-following would be detrimental to the movie. As steeped in then cutting-edge special effects, would Tron have aged gracefully? As it turns out … it’s not as bad as I had feared. Tron definitely has its rough edges. Never mind the special effects: just the script itself is full of clunky dialogue, badly-integrated elements, a tone that can’t quite figure out whether it’s addressing kids or adults, and insignificant tangents. The plot structure is a mess with characters being introduced (or removed/ignored) at odd times. It feels messy rather than complex, and the silly dialogue will make anyone itch for just one more script rewrite. Fortunately, plot is among Tron’s least important qualities. It’s far more interesting to talk about its visual design, relationship to socio-technological history and fantasy world-building. Tron has aged rather well as a special-effects showcase: While technology has evolved far beyond the simple CGI available at the time, Tron does have its own style and works best when it exploits the limits of this style. Reading about the film’s production history explains why the colour scheme is inconsistent (basically: they changed it during production), but much of it still impresses even thirty-five years later. Unfortunately, the world-building is inconsistent: while it’s really good in setting the story in 1982 and occasionally in creating a society within the computer, it quickly turns embarrassing in some of the ways it tries to develop the cyber-world aspects: Part of it is due to writing a cutting-edge film for young audiences, but part of it is also due to viewers’ greater familiarity with computing technology that would have seemed magical in 1982. For amateur techno-historians, Tron is a fascinating look at how society viewed computers early in the consumer electronics era, with a suspicion that there was more under the hood than we suspected. (Ah, if they only knew! Nowadays, computers can host rivalling bots, in-between automated update agents, organized crime botnet clients and intelligence agency backdoors…) I’ve got a vague idea in my mind for a retro-computing mini-film festival featuring Wargames, Tron and Superman III… [Oh wow, I’m only thirty-three years late to this grouping] Still, getting back to Tron itself, it has aged more gracefully than I expected. Style and audaciousness can help forgive plot and structure, then as now. It helps that Jeff Bridges had a charismatic screen presence, but even he would probably admit that Tron has enduring cult appeal not based on his looks as much as the fantastic images around him.

  • A Walk in the Woods (2015)

    A Walk in the Woods (2015)

    (On Cable TV, June 2017) Adapting a novel to the big screen is tough enough, but adapting a non-fiction book as a movie seems even tougher—it’s about jettisoning the informative material and building up the story, even if it means adding more to it. Bill Bryson’s A Walk in the Wood (which I read between seeing the movie and writing this capsule review) is a compulsively readable account of a forty-something man’s attempt to walk the Appalachian Trail, occasionally alongside an old friend who’s even less in shape than he is. In doing so, Bryson gets to talk about the state of American natural preserves, the environmental collapse of some tree species, the nature of the Appalachian trail, what kind of person voluntarily hikes 3000 miles in a few months, and assorted topics that come to mind while walking a few miles every day for weeks on end. The film elides the details, although a surprising amount of top-level information still finds its way in the dramatization. As a movie, A Walk in the Woods wisely focuses on the difficult relationship between the two hikers, and the various incidents that can take place along the trail. Much of the film’s first half sticks impressively close to the book—but both diverge later on as the book itself becomes less storyable and the film feels the need to build everything to a dramatic conclusion. Robert Redford is very likable as Bryson, given his weathered features and sympathetic persona. Playing opposite him, Jeff Bridges makes for a capable foil as “Stephen Katz”, an out-of-shape screw-up who tags along for the hike. A few name actors pop up in amusing small roles (Emma Thompson as an understanding wife, Kirsten Shaal as an intolerable hiker, Nick Offerman as a hiking gear salesman) but the focus here is on Redford, Bridges and the trail itself. The dramatic climax doesn’t quite work (it feels shot in a studio, far too engineered to feel natural, and on-the-nose as to what the characters learn from it) but the rest of the film has a warm feel to it—kind of an extraordinary adventure achievable by ordinary people. Some of the scenery is spectacular enough to kindle a diffuse desire to walk the trail, but in this case please do read the book—better than vicarious adventure, it’s detailed enough to make anyone reconsider ever walking the Appalachian Trail.

  • Hell or High Water (2016)

    Hell or High Water (2016)

    (Netflix Streaming, May 2017) It says much about today’s Hollywood that we’ve come to crave solid crime thrillers as an alternative to the usually undistinguishable dreck that has come to dominate multiplexes. Hell or High Water is a throwback to the time when this kind of crime drama, solidly acted, put together with skill, eschewing formula and taking on social issues, was a fixture rather than an exception. Here, Chris Pine and Ben Foster star as brothers trying to stop a bank’s takeover of their family farm by robbing branches of that very same bank. The populist anger runs raw in this film, which only heightens the drama when an affable veteran policeman (Jeff Bridges, gritty as ever) chases them across the state. The result is very much like a modern western, with SUVs replacing horses as our antiheroes go rob banks in small cities. It’s a solid script by Taylor Sheridan (who’s improving from movie to movie), and David Mackenzie’s direction effectively manages to portray East Texas in a credible fashion. It’s also, refreshingly, a movie that cares for even its minor characters: There are two waitress characters in the film, for instance, and both of them (Katy Mixon and Margaret Bowman) get a few memorable moments well beyond the usual “here’s your food, sweetheart”. There are no clear good or bad guys here, as viewers’ loyalties are tested and the film refuses a conventionally uplifting resolution. This being said, Hell or High Water does ends leaving a sense of satisfaction at the way the story is wrapped up, having taken us on a ride unlike most other big-budget movies out there. As a standalone movie, it’s crunchy good viewing. As an antidote to the current Hollywood orthodoxy, though, it’s nothing short of delicious.

  • Dumb and Dumber To (2014)

    Dumb and Dumber To (2014)

    (On Cable TV, July 2016) There are many things I don’t like about stupid humour, and one of them is the way it curdles the older its practitioners are. Watching Jim Carrey and Jeff Bridges goof off in 1994 when they were in their thirties is bad enough, but seeing them act like big doofuses in 2014 when they’re in their fifties is adding a substantial layer of melancholy on something that’s already pretty sad. It gets worse considering how Dumb and Dumber To tries to bring in issues of fatherhood (flirting far too long with the stomach-churning idea of a character having designs on the other one’s daughter) in-between wasting one’s life on dumb jokes. The film starts badly, builds setpieces that aren’t as funny as the screenwriters think and sort of peters out at some point before the end. There are a few high notes, although one of them (the brief return of the iconic dog van) is notable in how quickly it speeds by. As in the original, dumb humour abounds, but very little of it has the kind of panache that made the first film so memorable and grudgingly funny. It doesn’t help that, in twenty years, the comedy zeitgeist has moved away from the original’s model. Carrey can’t very well return to the same kind of humour he did twenty years ago without looking ridiculous in unintended ways, while Bridges doesn’t completely abase himself. In that chaos of dumb taste, only Kathleen Turner emerges gracefully, although having one of the most level-headed characters in the film helps a lot. After so many modest efforts and all-out misfires, you’d think that the Farrelly Brothers would stop making movies at some point, but clearly the box office results show that I’m wrong and my opinions on the matter don’t mean anything. In the meantime, Dumb and Dumber To exists, and you only have yourself the blame if you end up watching it.

  • Dumb and Dumber (1994)

    Dumb and Dumber (1994)

    (Second viewing, On Cable TV, May 2016) I didn’t have very good memories of Dumb & Dumber, and a revisit twenty-some years later only highlights why: I don’t react well to deliberately dumb humour, and this film has enough of it to fill a trilogy. I spent the film’s first half-hour in an increasing state of self-loathing, wondering why I was re-watching it and feeling my IQ dropping every minute. Eventually (specifically during the diner scene where a seasoned criminal unsuccessfully try to kill the protagonists), I reached an equilibrium of sorts, and the film finally started feeling funny. Not exceptionally funny, but funny enough to coast until the end. Jim Carrey does deliver a remarkable performance (alongside Ace Ventura and The Mask, it’s part of his astonishing 1994 breakout year), and seeing Jeff Bridges abase himself so low does have an interest of its own. The humour is dumb enough that it’s easy to forget that two skilled comedians (the Farrelly Brothers) wrote this stuff, but some of the film’s more outlandish moments (such as the fantasy sequences, or the living-large segment) do show some invention going beyond the dumb humour. I’m not going to claim that I was seduced by the results, but Dumb & Dumber does become good enough to escape the confines of its chosen dumb-jokes subgenre, and it’s that kind of success that highlights a better-than-average effort. This being said, I’m more than OK with the thought that I may not have to watch this again for another twenty years.

  • Seventh Son (2014)

    Seventh Son (2014)

    (On Cable TV, January 2016) As much as I like being surprised by good low-budget films, bad expensive box-office failures have an attraction of their own as well. When it comes to movie-watching, big money is compelling, especially if you can see it on the screen: even when the story is hum-drum and the actors are sleepwalking through the plot, it can be moderately amusing (for schadenfreude-heavy values of “amusing”) to be swept along by what’s made possible by a big-enough budget. So it is that in Seventh Son, we get Jeff Bridges reprising his persona from True Grit and R.I.P.D. (speaking of expensive disappointments…), a curiously alluring Julianne Moore vamping it up as an evil witch, sweeping camera shots, an epic fantasy setting and slick CGI creatures. Unfortunately, we also have to suffer through a dull-as-dirt story, clichés by the barrel, barely repressed misogyny and grotesque secondary characters. Seventh Son is not fun, not thrilling, not even interesting to contemplate on a plot level: it’s far better to watch it for the visuals, the unintended laughter or the way it somehow manages to make its male protagonists exterminate the female antagonists without quite realizing how awfully misogynistic it is. Director Sergei Bodrov does put together a few interesting moments with the means to his disposal—too bad it’s in service of such an easily forgotten result. The decade-long glut of fantasy films lazily adapted from rote source material in an attempt to replicate the success of The Lord of the Rings is not helping the genre gain any ground. In the meantime, we can only watch in amusement and marvel at the colossal waste of money it is.

  • Arlington Road (1999)

    Arlington Road (1999)

    (In French, on Cable TV, November 2015)  Some movies are made before their time, and I really wonder if Arlington Road would have been a more unnerving film had it been released three (or more) years later.  There is, of course, a definite mid-nineties vibe to the proceedings, drawing from the Oklahoma City bombing to Ruby Ridge and Waco in setting up an anti-government domestic terrorism rationale: Three years later, the American national paranoia would be obsessed about foreign-driven terrorism.  Adding foreign involvement to Arlington Road would have muddled an already preposterous plot that draws equally upon unlikely coincidences, comically evil plans, superhuman levels of deception by the antagonist and plans that would have a near-impossible chance to succeed if this wasn’t a movie.  There’s emotional manipulation nearly everywhere, and at times it’s hard to believe that anyone in the cast, even Tim Robbins and Jeff Bridges, can keep a straight face pushing the story forward.  On the other hand, well-executed ludicrousness has a believability of its own, and so Arlington Road has the decency to remain interesting on a pure “OK, what will happen next?” level, egging us on to the next unlikely plot point.  I’m not sure that it helps that the film is so determined to get its downbeat ending: you can forgive a lot more silliness if it’s all neatly wrapped with a happy bow.  It makes for a more-memorable-than-average thriller, but it doesn’t necessarily make for a better one.