Cookie-tossing aside, I was rather disappointed by Angela's Ashes. I almost feel like I was better entertained when I saw A Couple of Blaguards last month, which was just Malachy McCourt and (an actor playing) his brother Frank sitting on a mostly bare stage recounting the stories of their childhood, most of which were in the book Angela's Ashes (written by Frank, for those of you just exiting the Biosphere II). They captured the black humor and resiliency that made the book so enjoyable and memorable.
Director Alan Parker, however, chose to go with the grim and bleak aspects of McCourt's epically poor childhood, with only sporadic touches of the humor that leavened the tragedies in the book. Not to say the movie's not well done -- and maybe it's that actually seeing the dismal surroundings makes more of an impact than just reading about them. I still think, though, that in his attempt to avoid sentimentality, Parker went too far in the direction of grim reality.
He makes some other blunders, too, most notably with a couple of heavy-handed, crass scenes: one in which a teenage Frank literally faces down his 6- and 10-year-old selves (give me a fucking break) and another where Frank pours out basically the story of his life up to that particular point to St. Anthony (don't ask; it's too complicated to explain). Fine -- in fact, rather touching... except that Parker for some idiotic reason felt the need to show clips THAT WE HAD JUST SEEN of the events Frank was recapping. For some reason, this pissed me off A LOT. It would have been so much more effective to keep the camera on Frank's face as he was talking, to see how these memories were affecting him.
Parents Angela (Emily Watson) and Malachy Sr. (Robert Carlyle) are scantily sketched -- pretty much all you get about their characters is what you see in the first few minutes: long-suffering Angela and alcoholic Malachy. That's all they are throughout the movie. Both actors are decent, though I wouldn't heap any superlatives on them. I felt like I'd seen Watson play this role before, though I don't believe I actually have. Carlyle is good as sober, remorseful Malachy, but he's shockingly bad at portraying inebriation.
Fortunately, the child actors are all quite good and not at all annoying. Frank and little brother Malachy are portrayed at three different ages, and the best acting is done by the middle pair of children (one of whom is the brother of the kid from The Butcher Boy, but then again, nearly all the damn kids looked like the Butcher Boy kid).
Re-reading this, I feel like I'm being too harsh. Despite its flaws, Angela's Ashes is touching and worth seeing, with the caveats that (1) you'll probably be let down if you loved the book, (2) it's depressing as hell, and (3) there really is an inordinate amount of regurgitation. (By the way, the film will be released in NY and LA before the end of the year, but it won't go into wide release until mid-January, so by then you will have forgotten this review anyway.)
(An
extraneous note: in some of the Cineplex Odeon theaters around here,
they've taken to handing out candies or gum as you leave the
theater.
Well, tonight, they gave us flavored Vitamin C lozenges. I was so
touched: "They care about us! They want me to be healthy!"
Cineplex Odeon: the faceless
corporate
behemoth that cares.)
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