Writer-director Dan Mirvish perpetrated a 2008 internet hoax by masquerading as Republican strategist "Martin Eisenstadt" during the US presidential elections, hoodwinking actual news agencies before they got wise. Mirvish's latest hoax is "18 1/2," although he and co-writer Daniel Moya do establish a plausible, well-crafted, even clever premise to kick off this cockeyed take on the Watergate scandal that eventually forced the 1974 resignation of Republican President Richard Nixon.
Background briefing: During the 1972 US elections, Nixon political operatives, known as the "plumbers" and funded in part by contributions to his re-election campaign, were caught burgling Democratic National Committee headquarters in the Watergate Hotel and Office Complex in Washington, DC, in June 1972.
Investigations led by Democratic Senator Sam Ervin revealed Nixon's voice-activated tape-recording system in the White House. Ervin's attempts to subpoena those tape recordings met with resistance, with some of the tapes received having noticeable gaps in the conversations---including one tape, recorded three days after the Watergate burglary, whose gap lasted for eighteen-and-a-half minutes.
The proffered explanation was that Rose Mary Woods, Nixon's personal White House secretary fiercely loyal to him, "accidentally" erased the tape while answering the telephone, an act that required her to perform such implausible physical contortions that the media quickly and derisively dubbed them the "Rose Mary Stretch."
Once former FBI assistant director Mark Felt revealed himself in 2005 to be "Deep Throat," the anonymous Washington insider who advised reporter Bob Woodward during Watergate, the only real mystery left in the Watergate scandal was what could possibly have been erased from that tape with the 18 1/2-minute gap.
Don't count on Mirvish's movie to shed any light on that mystery, but at least he launches it with a feint toward juiciness that dries up all too quickly.
Connie Lashley (Willa Fitzgerald) works as a transcriber at the Office of Management and Budget, typing up recordings of OMB meetings held at the Old Executive Office Building adjacent to the White House. The conversations are so bland and mundane that she and co-worker Cheryl (Marija Abney) dub them "the only boring tapes in Washington." But as she begins to transcribe a tape of a very short meeting, she soon hears the voices of none other than Nixon (voiced by Bruce Campbell) and Chief of Staff Alexander Haig (voiced by Ted Raimi) on the OMB tape.
The OMB uses voice-activated recording machines just like Nixon does, and what Connie hears is Nixon and Haig entering the OMB conference room to listen to the tape containing the conversation Nixon had had with his previous chief of staff, H. R. Haldeman (voiced by Jon Cryer), three days after the Watergate burglary, with Nixon and Haig unaware that their recording was itself being recorded. What Connie now has is a recording of those eighteen-and-a-half minutes before they had been erased. Explosive stuff, right?
Connie arranges to meet with New York Times reporter Paul Marrow (John Magaro) to share this scoop with him. Paul wants her to give him the tape, but she refuses, telling him that all OMB tapes are logged, and she must log the tape back in when she returns to work. Her plan is for them both to listen to the tape while he makes his notes. Reluctant to be identified as the source of the leak, Connie tells Paul that while he could win a Pulitzer Prize for this bombshell, she could wind up being indicted.
Unfortunately, after this tidy construction of the setup, buttressed by Fitzgerald's and Magano's quiet urgency captured in Mirvish's tight shots, "18 1/2" careens into mushrooming, haphazard non sequitur similar to a confusing, frustrating dream in which you can never complete your task or reach your destination.
Actually, Mirvish previews that from the start. Traveling to meet Paul in a small town on Chesapeake Bay, Connie's drive begins to seem surreal until you realize that she is arriving in her car that is parked on a ferry. Inside the restaurant, the waitress (Gina Kreiezmar) congratulates her for making him wait for her before she pre-empts his order by telling him she will bring him what Connie has ordered. Already the mood reeks of current indie-prod attitude, with Fitzgerald's clipped, acerbic assertiveness clearly a contemporary affectation, as is Magaro's shlubby passivity.
Needing somewhere to plug in the reel-to-reel tape player he brought with him, Paul suggests a nearby motel run by eyepatch-wearing Jack (Richard Kind). Is one-eyed Jack the wildcard in this budding game of three-card monte about to be played before your eyes? Who can tell? When Connie and Paul discover that his tape player is broken, they try to find another one. This brings them in contact with a group of wannabe revolutionaries hanging out at the shoreline as well as a middle-aged couple, Lena (Catherine Curtin) and Samuel (Vondie Curtis-Hall), who had previously invited Connie and Paul to dinner. Yes, they do have a reel-to-reel, which plays bossa nova constantly, but they'll lend it out only if Connie and Paul have dinner with them first.
This is where "18 1/2" becomes interminable, the part in the dream where you are mired and cannot escape---only now you cannot even wake yourself up because the dinner goes on and on. And on. And on. Yes, there is intrigue because Connie and Paul, having just met, are posing as newlyweds, leading to tense moments as the older couple's questioning begins to probe too uncomfortably.
However, the less said about what transpires after Connie and Paul return to their room to listen to the tape, the better because Mirvish, drained of all inspiration and desperate, resorts to snippets of sex and oodles of violence as the hoary, cliché trope that no one is really who they seem to be gets beaten to death in an eye-rolling finish you would expect from a straight-to-video horror flick.
Suffice to say that whatever secrets Nixon and his cohorts held that required erasure have gone safely to the grave with them because you're never going to find them out from Mirvish's story.
Actually, half-garbled shards of dialog and clearly legible intertitle cards before the closing credits suggest some chicanery involving Howard Hughes, the Nixon campaign and Nixon's close confidante and "fixer" Charles "Bebe" Rebozo, ITT, and Wonder Bread.
Yes, there are foundations for credibility lurking here, such as Hughes's 1957 loan to then-Vice President Nixon's brother Donald in exchange for favorable treatment for Trans World Airlines, in which Hughes owned the controlling interest. Or ITT's 1971 donation to the Republican National Committee in exchange for favorable treatment from Nixon's Justice Department in an antitrust case as well as ITT's involvement in the 1973 right-wing coup d'etat in Chile that the Nixon Administration had orchestrated. And ITT did acquire Continental Baking Company, maker of Wonder Bread, in 1968.
Thus, Mirvish closes with the suggestion of a conspiracy theory that, like so many conspiracy theories, has a ring of truth to it based on circumstantial evidence. But until a conspiracy theory is corroborated, it remains a hoax. Mirvish's "18 1/2" is a hoax, and it could have been a good one, a political-thriller black comedy. The problem is that Mirvish takes far too long to tell his joke, uses too much hand-waving, whisks around his one-eyed Jack wildcard too many times in his endless game of three-card monte designed only to fool you, before he gets to the punchline, which falls flat after all the protracted distractions that preceded it.
Even worse, Dan Mirvish gets the last laugh---at your expense. He has wasted your time making you watch his contrived, convoluted, indulgent narrative that amounts to nothing and tells you even less than that. All he has done is erase 88 minutes from your life. That's a gap you'll never fill again. Stick with 1999's "Dick," starring Kirsten Dunst and Michelle Williams, which at least has a hilarious explanation for why there needed to be an 18 1/2-minute gap.
The slyest part of "18 1/2" comes if you read the ending cast credits closely when, glimpsed briefly as the two non-speaking revolutionaries, cinematographer Elle Schneider and assistant second director Joshua A. Friedman get into the act. Friedman is billed as "Fred," and Schneider is billed as "Velma." Had the rest of the "Scooby Gang"---Daphne, Scooby-Doo, and Shaggy---been listed, it would have made this "stunt casting" too obvious (though this "Velma" also wears glasses). That's right. Nixon might have gotten away with it if it hadn't been for those meddling kids.
Now do you believe that "18 1/2" is nothing but a hoax?
REVIEWER'S NOTE: What makes a review "helpful"? Every reader of course decides that for themselves. For me, a review is helpful if it explains why the reviewer liked or disliked the work or why they thought it was good or not good. Whether I agree with the reviewer's conclusion is irrelevant. "Helpful" reviews tell me how and why the reviewer came to their conclusion, not what that conclusion may be. Differences of opinion are inevitable. I don't need "confirmation bias" for my own conclusions. Do you?
Background briefing: During the 1972 US elections, Nixon political operatives, known as the "plumbers" and funded in part by contributions to his re-election campaign, were caught burgling Democratic National Committee headquarters in the Watergate Hotel and Office Complex in Washington, DC, in June 1972.
Investigations led by Democratic Senator Sam Ervin revealed Nixon's voice-activated tape-recording system in the White House. Ervin's attempts to subpoena those tape recordings met with resistance, with some of the tapes received having noticeable gaps in the conversations---including one tape, recorded three days after the Watergate burglary, whose gap lasted for eighteen-and-a-half minutes.
The proffered explanation was that Rose Mary Woods, Nixon's personal White House secretary fiercely loyal to him, "accidentally" erased the tape while answering the telephone, an act that required her to perform such implausible physical contortions that the media quickly and derisively dubbed them the "Rose Mary Stretch."
Once former FBI assistant director Mark Felt revealed himself in 2005 to be "Deep Throat," the anonymous Washington insider who advised reporter Bob Woodward during Watergate, the only real mystery left in the Watergate scandal was what could possibly have been erased from that tape with the 18 1/2-minute gap.
Don't count on Mirvish's movie to shed any light on that mystery, but at least he launches it with a feint toward juiciness that dries up all too quickly.
Connie Lashley (Willa Fitzgerald) works as a transcriber at the Office of Management and Budget, typing up recordings of OMB meetings held at the Old Executive Office Building adjacent to the White House. The conversations are so bland and mundane that she and co-worker Cheryl (Marija Abney) dub them "the only boring tapes in Washington." But as she begins to transcribe a tape of a very short meeting, she soon hears the voices of none other than Nixon (voiced by Bruce Campbell) and Chief of Staff Alexander Haig (voiced by Ted Raimi) on the OMB tape.
The OMB uses voice-activated recording machines just like Nixon does, and what Connie hears is Nixon and Haig entering the OMB conference room to listen to the tape containing the conversation Nixon had had with his previous chief of staff, H. R. Haldeman (voiced by Jon Cryer), three days after the Watergate burglary, with Nixon and Haig unaware that their recording was itself being recorded. What Connie now has is a recording of those eighteen-and-a-half minutes before they had been erased. Explosive stuff, right?
Connie arranges to meet with New York Times reporter Paul Marrow (John Magaro) to share this scoop with him. Paul wants her to give him the tape, but she refuses, telling him that all OMB tapes are logged, and she must log the tape back in when she returns to work. Her plan is for them both to listen to the tape while he makes his notes. Reluctant to be identified as the source of the leak, Connie tells Paul that while he could win a Pulitzer Prize for this bombshell, she could wind up being indicted.
Unfortunately, after this tidy construction of the setup, buttressed by Fitzgerald's and Magano's quiet urgency captured in Mirvish's tight shots, "18 1/2" careens into mushrooming, haphazard non sequitur similar to a confusing, frustrating dream in which you can never complete your task or reach your destination.
Actually, Mirvish previews that from the start. Traveling to meet Paul in a small town on Chesapeake Bay, Connie's drive begins to seem surreal until you realize that she is arriving in her car that is parked on a ferry. Inside the restaurant, the waitress (Gina Kreiezmar) congratulates her for making him wait for her before she pre-empts his order by telling him she will bring him what Connie has ordered. Already the mood reeks of current indie-prod attitude, with Fitzgerald's clipped, acerbic assertiveness clearly a contemporary affectation, as is Magaro's shlubby passivity.
Needing somewhere to plug in the reel-to-reel tape player he brought with him, Paul suggests a nearby motel run by eyepatch-wearing Jack (Richard Kind). Is one-eyed Jack the wildcard in this budding game of three-card monte about to be played before your eyes? Who can tell? When Connie and Paul discover that his tape player is broken, they try to find another one. This brings them in contact with a group of wannabe revolutionaries hanging out at the shoreline as well as a middle-aged couple, Lena (Catherine Curtin) and Samuel (Vondie Curtis-Hall), who had previously invited Connie and Paul to dinner. Yes, they do have a reel-to-reel, which plays bossa nova constantly, but they'll lend it out only if Connie and Paul have dinner with them first.
This is where "18 1/2" becomes interminable, the part in the dream where you are mired and cannot escape---only now you cannot even wake yourself up because the dinner goes on and on. And on. And on. Yes, there is intrigue because Connie and Paul, having just met, are posing as newlyweds, leading to tense moments as the older couple's questioning begins to probe too uncomfortably.
However, the less said about what transpires after Connie and Paul return to their room to listen to the tape, the better because Mirvish, drained of all inspiration and desperate, resorts to snippets of sex and oodles of violence as the hoary, cliché trope that no one is really who they seem to be gets beaten to death in an eye-rolling finish you would expect from a straight-to-video horror flick.
Suffice to say that whatever secrets Nixon and his cohorts held that required erasure have gone safely to the grave with them because you're never going to find them out from Mirvish's story.
Actually, half-garbled shards of dialog and clearly legible intertitle cards before the closing credits suggest some chicanery involving Howard Hughes, the Nixon campaign and Nixon's close confidante and "fixer" Charles "Bebe" Rebozo, ITT, and Wonder Bread.
Yes, there are foundations for credibility lurking here, such as Hughes's 1957 loan to then-Vice President Nixon's brother Donald in exchange for favorable treatment for Trans World Airlines, in which Hughes owned the controlling interest. Or ITT's 1971 donation to the Republican National Committee in exchange for favorable treatment from Nixon's Justice Department in an antitrust case as well as ITT's involvement in the 1973 right-wing coup d'etat in Chile that the Nixon Administration had orchestrated. And ITT did acquire Continental Baking Company, maker of Wonder Bread, in 1968.
Thus, Mirvish closes with the suggestion of a conspiracy theory that, like so many conspiracy theories, has a ring of truth to it based on circumstantial evidence. But until a conspiracy theory is corroborated, it remains a hoax. Mirvish's "18 1/2" is a hoax, and it could have been a good one, a political-thriller black comedy. The problem is that Mirvish takes far too long to tell his joke, uses too much hand-waving, whisks around his one-eyed Jack wildcard too many times in his endless game of three-card monte designed only to fool you, before he gets to the punchline, which falls flat after all the protracted distractions that preceded it.
Even worse, Dan Mirvish gets the last laugh---at your expense. He has wasted your time making you watch his contrived, convoluted, indulgent narrative that amounts to nothing and tells you even less than that. All he has done is erase 88 minutes from your life. That's a gap you'll never fill again. Stick with 1999's "Dick," starring Kirsten Dunst and Michelle Williams, which at least has a hilarious explanation for why there needed to be an 18 1/2-minute gap.
The slyest part of "18 1/2" comes if you read the ending cast credits closely when, glimpsed briefly as the two non-speaking revolutionaries, cinematographer Elle Schneider and assistant second director Joshua A. Friedman get into the act. Friedman is billed as "Fred," and Schneider is billed as "Velma." Had the rest of the "Scooby Gang"---Daphne, Scooby-Doo, and Shaggy---been listed, it would have made this "stunt casting" too obvious (though this "Velma" also wears glasses). That's right. Nixon might have gotten away with it if it hadn't been for those meddling kids.
Now do you believe that "18 1/2" is nothing but a hoax?
REVIEWER'S NOTE: What makes a review "helpful"? Every reader of course decides that for themselves. For me, a review is helpful if it explains why the reviewer liked or disliked the work or why they thought it was good or not good. Whether I agree with the reviewer's conclusion is irrelevant. "Helpful" reviews tell me how and why the reviewer came to their conclusion, not what that conclusion may be. Differences of opinion are inevitable. I don't need "confirmation bias" for my own conclusions. Do you?