You may remember a little movie being advertised back in 2005 called The Moguls. It starred Jeff Bridges playing a riff on his "Dude" persona and a whole load of other respected character actors such as William Fichtner, Joe Pantoliano, Tim Blake Nelson, John Hawkes, promising up and comer Patrick Fugit (Almost Famous) and Ted Danson. The film looked amusing, quite possibly a fine night in, one could do much worse. Time goes by and we hear nothing more about it. Then suddenly, out of the blue in November 2007, we begin to see a little movie being advertised called The Amateurs, a sweet little comedy romp starring Jeff Bridges, Ted Danson and a host of respected talent.
The reason for this pull back and re-release is simple. The Moguls, The Amateurs or whatever you want to call it, just isn't very good. In fact, it stinks like a big pile of dirty knickers. Brace yourself, because now, I'm going to tell you why.
The Moguls/Amateurs begins with Andy (Bridges) a divorcée who visits his son on his birthday to discover that his ex's new partner is filthy rich. Andy goes to his local bar, head hanging, realising he's never done anything with his life. Finally, Andy comes to the conclusion that the only way to win his son's respect is - to make a porno.
As we are introduced one by one to the characters, we meet Mo and Ron. Of course, they call them Mo-Ron. We also meet a character named Some Idiot. ("Amateur porn, the stuff that Any Idiot can make with his video camera," "hey Some Idiot's got a brother!") Moose (Danson) is gay, but doesn't want anyone to know, yet of course, they all do because he acts like your average stereotypical homosexual. Crickets. Tumbleweed. Otis, played by William Fichtner, wants to know if there's a guy who just stands around on the set and so he is made executive producer of the porno. And so the lazily written and completely unnecessary voice over goes on, pointing out each and every thing in the movie that we can quite clearly see or work out for ourselves. Andy's inner monologue delights in it's quirky pausing of the film to slip in a quick jokey point about a character or point something out to us that we may need to know later on. A neon sign saying "Look! Look here for a plot point!" would have been less obvious. This voice-over even has the audacity to tell us that when making a film, one of the main things you must do is to show and not tell. You would think that writer-director Michael Traeger would have caught the irony.
This opening half hour is rushed and unconvincing, with very little actual character development with which to care about anything that's going on. A film similar in overall character to this one would be Dodgeball in which we have a group of likable underdogs who are not only developed but have quirks that are actually quirky. Here, the characters only need a few seconds of pointless voice over to describe their entire lives and make the caricatures of Poseidon look they strolled right out of Of Mice and Men.
The script itself is a lame duck and that reflects in the performances. There are, for example, some potentially funny situations put forth here, for example the porno production meeting at Some Idiot's house where he lives with his mother, but the execution is so bland that none of the actual comedy gets across. Another scene in which Andy has an argument in a crowded coffee shop with Isiah Washington about big black phalli as customers leave in disgust also falls short and ends up being a tad racist as well as being as unfunny as, well, someone shouting the word 'd*ck' in a coffee shop. The constant, feeble, desperate attempts at euphemistic humour are about as funny as listening to a conversation between a group of 14 year old boys giggling about sex.
A burning question here is, how, if the entire crew are made to stand with their backs turned the entire way through shooting a scene, do the pans and alternative angles get in there? Extraordinary. How do industry professionals get it so wrong? You'd think they would be their own technical advisors. As it is, the cinematography in this film is flat and uninteresting, making Year of the Dog look positively vibrant.
One wonders how this cast were attracted to such a script. Lauren Graham seems to be wondering exactly what it is she's doing there as her character is nothing but a potential love interest for Bridges to bumble over. Ten Danson's buttocks look to be particularly self conscious, an image that I would have quite happily gone without. It's not sordid enough to be shocking or daring and not amiable enough to be sweet or heart warming. By the end, the film has degenerated into one big schmaltzy love-in without having earned it, culminating in an awful slow motion conga montage of respected talent acting elated in the most unconvincing way possible. The final 'twist' ending, if you can call it that, is at first glance interesting and suggests that there may be hope for the film yet, but the neatness of it all brings us right back to contrivance once again, inane voice over checking the characters' fates off the list one by one as it did at the start.
It's easy to see why this film was so desperately pulled and re-issued under the guise of quirky low budget indie. Apparently, the film is slightly re-edited in it's 2007 form, although I can scarcely imagine that a few re-cuts could improve on such a dud. I wonder if writer-director Michael Traeger really does believe that Any Idiot can make a movie. Maybe he should have just let him.
The reason for this pull back and re-release is simple. The Moguls, The Amateurs or whatever you want to call it, just isn't very good. In fact, it stinks like a big pile of dirty knickers. Brace yourself, because now, I'm going to tell you why.
The Moguls/Amateurs begins with Andy (Bridges) a divorcée who visits his son on his birthday to discover that his ex's new partner is filthy rich. Andy goes to his local bar, head hanging, realising he's never done anything with his life. Finally, Andy comes to the conclusion that the only way to win his son's respect is - to make a porno.
As we are introduced one by one to the characters, we meet Mo and Ron. Of course, they call them Mo-Ron. We also meet a character named Some Idiot. ("Amateur porn, the stuff that Any Idiot can make with his video camera," "hey Some Idiot's got a brother!") Moose (Danson) is gay, but doesn't want anyone to know, yet of course, they all do because he acts like your average stereotypical homosexual. Crickets. Tumbleweed. Otis, played by William Fichtner, wants to know if there's a guy who just stands around on the set and so he is made executive producer of the porno. And so the lazily written and completely unnecessary voice over goes on, pointing out each and every thing in the movie that we can quite clearly see or work out for ourselves. Andy's inner monologue delights in it's quirky pausing of the film to slip in a quick jokey point about a character or point something out to us that we may need to know later on. A neon sign saying "Look! Look here for a plot point!" would have been less obvious. This voice-over even has the audacity to tell us that when making a film, one of the main things you must do is to show and not tell. You would think that writer-director Michael Traeger would have caught the irony.
This opening half hour is rushed and unconvincing, with very little actual character development with which to care about anything that's going on. A film similar in overall character to this one would be Dodgeball in which we have a group of likable underdogs who are not only developed but have quirks that are actually quirky. Here, the characters only need a few seconds of pointless voice over to describe their entire lives and make the caricatures of Poseidon look they strolled right out of Of Mice and Men.
The script itself is a lame duck and that reflects in the performances. There are, for example, some potentially funny situations put forth here, for example the porno production meeting at Some Idiot's house where he lives with his mother, but the execution is so bland that none of the actual comedy gets across. Another scene in which Andy has an argument in a crowded coffee shop with Isiah Washington about big black phalli as customers leave in disgust also falls short and ends up being a tad racist as well as being as unfunny as, well, someone shouting the word 'd*ck' in a coffee shop. The constant, feeble, desperate attempts at euphemistic humour are about as funny as listening to a conversation between a group of 14 year old boys giggling about sex.
A burning question here is, how, if the entire crew are made to stand with their backs turned the entire way through shooting a scene, do the pans and alternative angles get in there? Extraordinary. How do industry professionals get it so wrong? You'd think they would be their own technical advisors. As it is, the cinematography in this film is flat and uninteresting, making Year of the Dog look positively vibrant.
One wonders how this cast were attracted to such a script. Lauren Graham seems to be wondering exactly what it is she's doing there as her character is nothing but a potential love interest for Bridges to bumble over. Ten Danson's buttocks look to be particularly self conscious, an image that I would have quite happily gone without. It's not sordid enough to be shocking or daring and not amiable enough to be sweet or heart warming. By the end, the film has degenerated into one big schmaltzy love-in without having earned it, culminating in an awful slow motion conga montage of respected talent acting elated in the most unconvincing way possible. The final 'twist' ending, if you can call it that, is at first glance interesting and suggests that there may be hope for the film yet, but the neatness of it all brings us right back to contrivance once again, inane voice over checking the characters' fates off the list one by one as it did at the start.
It's easy to see why this film was so desperately pulled and re-issued under the guise of quirky low budget indie. Apparently, the film is slightly re-edited in it's 2007 form, although I can scarcely imagine that a few re-cuts could improve on such a dud. I wonder if writer-director Michael Traeger really does believe that Any Idiot can make a movie. Maybe he should have just let him.