Lawrence Kasdan

  • Silverado (1985)

    Silverado (1985)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, February 2020) By now, even the tiny number of Westerns that I’ve seen (compared to the entire corpus) is enough to last me a lifetime, or at least establish clear eras in Hollywood Westerns. There’s the innocent period (until 1939’s Stagecoach) where Westerns were cheap and easy to shoot in Hollywood’s backyard. There’s the heroic period (1940s–1950s), which shaped the myths of the genre, followed by the revisionist period (1960s–1970s), which did everything it could to question the heroic era of Westerns. By the 1980s, however, anything could happen in those now-rare Western films—movies that either celebrated or condemned the genre. Silverado, thirty seconds in, clearly announces its filiation to a more classical idea of westerns, although one that consciously exploits the iconography of the heroic period. As the opening shootout of the film ends and our protagonist opens the door of the dark cabin in which it took place, the camera crosses the threshold and the image expands to the limits of the widescreen frame to take in a gorgeous look at the American west in its most iconic glory. The credit sequence follows the protagonist by framing him against picture-perfect western backdrops and sets the tone for a film that reconstructs a fun kind of western, filled with good and bad guys shooting it out over cattle rights and revenge over past transgressions. Writer-director Lawrence Kasdan clearly wants to have a blast doing this film, and so Silverado never lets an occasion go to feature power chords, striking images and self-aware dialogue—or all three, such as when Danny Glover’s character holds up two rifles and says, “This oughta do.” Silverado manages to walk a fine line in recreating classic westerns with gusto yet without falling into the excesses that many imitators would adopt—it’s got action but few obviously over-the-top scenes; it doesn’t take itself too seriously without being a parody; and it finds an entertaining balance between drama and action. The story is very familiar, but it’s really a vehicle for Kasdan to show off that he could direct a straight-up western, and that works well enough. Special mention should be made of the ensemble cast, which features many actors what would become much bigger a few years later: Kevin Kline is a perfect example of civility in an uncivilized world (only topped by an unrecognizably bearded John Cleese as a merciless sheriff), Linda Hunt is a welcome bit of eccentricity, Jeff Goldblum pops up a few times, and a then-unknown Kevin Costner is a revelation here as a cocky gunslinger. Silverado ends up being a pleasant surprise: an unrepentant western not interested in critiquing the genre as much as in playing according to its rules. In many ways (including the gorgeous cinematography), it does feel like a more modern 1990s film. But no matter when it’s from, it’s still quite a bit of fun to watch today.

  • French Kiss (1992)

    French Kiss (1992)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, April 2019) There’s an entire book to be written about Hollywood’s continued fascination with France, which seems consistently overrepresented relative other non-Anglosphere destination from the very beginning of the art form (which makes sense considering France’s early role in the development of motion picture technology). This can be seen in the frequency in which France and Paris become destinations in Hollywood movies, the porosity of French actors with Hollywood careers (from Maurice Chevalier to Gerard Depardieu, Jean Reno and Léa Seydoux) and the generally positive French stereotypes as vehicled in films (even throughout the spectacularly dumb “Freedom Fries” years). As a French-Canadian, I’m not complaining! But it’s in that context that French Kiss is to be considered—even as it seems determined to revisit every cliché of Franco-Hollywood, it exists in a much wider historical continuity. It’s not a perfect fit: the decision to cast Kevin Kline as a Frenchman is a weird one (the role was originally intended for Depardieu, which would have been much better), especially considering that while Kline can do English with a French Accent, his French is mushy with a strong British-English accent. But we’re not supposed to care, as French Kiss is supposed to be this kind of cute reality-adjacent romantic comedy with a dash of deception as an American woman semi-willingly conspires with a Frenchman trying to purchase a vineyard. The French element is indissociable from the script, even if familiar romantic tropes are deployed throughout the film. Still, director Lawrence Kasdan takes a few steps beyond romantic comedy to have a (brief) look as some character-based drama. Is it enough? Maybe—This is one of the films that ensured that Meg Ryan would be called the queen of romantic comedies throughout the 1990s but also the kind of film that fades out when put alongside stronger ones. It’s cute, it’s not a waste of time and it’s certainly nowhere near the worst of what Hollywood could do at the time, but there’s a reason why it’s been forgotten twenty-five years later. Unless you’re an American Francophile, in which case it’s going to exactly fit the bill.

  • Body Heat (1981)

    Body Heat (1981)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On TV, October 2018) I watched Body Heat based on nothing more than availability (it was playing and it ranked fairly high on the list of 1981 movies I hadn’t yet seen) and was pleasantly surprised to find out it was an updated riff on classic noir movies such as Double Indemnity, albeit sexed up for the eighties. William Hurt is fine as the pitiable lawyer protagonist, but it’s Kathleen Turner who leaves a lasting impression as the woman that upends everything for him. If you understand the film’s true genre early on (as the reference to Double Indemnity suggests), there are few true surprises along the way of the film’s many twists and turns, but the execution of the story is good enough that it doesn’t matter. The atmosphere of an unbearably torrid Florida is excellent, and the film delves early and deep in the “everyone is bad” moral attitude—we quickly understand that nobody here turns out virtuous. The homage to noir movies is excellent. It makes for a conventional but satisfying thriller, the kind of film that we don’t nearly see that often almost thirty-five years later. Even watching Body Heat in dubbed (European) French added a special je-ne-sais quoi to the film, making it feel even more of a pastiche than it would have been in its original language.

    (Second Viewing, On Cable TV, July 2021) It went without saying that TCM’s look at neo-noir would include Body Heat, and it was just as given that I’d give it another look. One of the quintessential examples of how noir themes could be reinterpreted decades later, this Florida-set thriller set an example rarely met, let alone exceeded. An impressive cast, led by Kathleen Turner (as a neo-femme fatale) and William Hurt (as a semi-stupid lawyer), gets this sweaty thriller going, but it’s really writer-director Lawrence Kasdan who gets the credit for updating noir tropes to early 1980 Florida, creating a piece that’s timeless forty years later. It’s ingenious, devious, atmospheric and graphic at once – a terrific script is the canvas on which the rest of the film plays. It’s quite wonderful to rewatch even when you know where it’s going, because the execution is so good.

  • The Big Chill (1983)

    The Big Chill (1983)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, April 2017) It’s interesting to read that writer/director Lawrence Kasdan interprets the meaning of The Big Chill as the disillusionment that hits thirtysomethings once they trade young ideals for practical realities. Watching the movie, I was most struck by the way is comfortingly presents a small group of friends spending a mostly relaxed time together—i.e.: chilling. But, hey, it’s his film, and a fascinating aspect of The Big Chill is how, nearly thirty-five years and two generations later, it remains intelligible as an expression of friendship, drama, love, lust, regret, grief and mid-thirties reflections. It remains engrossing despite having few laughs and even fewer thrills. Part of its enduring effectiveness has to do with the actors assembled for the occasion. These are early roles for notables such as Glenn Close, Jeff Goldblum, William Hurt, Kevin Kline and Meg Tilly. (Pay attention, and you will even see Kevin Costner’s hairline.) The nearly all-hits soundtrack is also quite good. For a movie that wrestles complex relationships between no less than eight people (that’s 28 different relationships, if my math is OK), the story remains relatively clear at most times. Perhaps most surprising is how somewhat unusual things (hitting on your dead pal’s girlfriend at his funeral, a wife arranging for a friend’s natural insemination by her husband, insider trading, an adulterous affair while the husband’s away with the kids, etc.) are portrayed as being no big deals. The ending is weak, but there’s an upbeat wistfulness (if such an expression isn’t oxymoronic) that permeates the final moments of the film. The Big Chill couldn’t possibly have been more reflective of the late baby-boomer generation, yet it remains relevant today. And despite all the icky things in the movie, it still feels heartwarming and relaxed. Go figure.