Ultimately this feels like a solid allegory for the ego's complex processing of desires, proposing that everyone's dream of being validated, seen, appreciated, and granted ubiquitous attention is actually a nightmare to the voice that feels like we don't deserve it and can't contend with irrepressible forces, whose perceptively insatiable qualities cause emotional claustrophobia. Polanski has fun shooting the environment to match the psychology of a given scene, especially when the physical disorganization or movement of inanimate objects reflect a mental state, whether it's an item breaking aggressively and unpredictably, or even a character closing a door quietly on another from a distance.Īssayas' interest toward one's place in the cultural stratosphere is present as well, though much more uniformly terrifying than usual, as an overwhelming entity that is unsafe to navigate. The notably interesting piece is Assayas' hand in the script, helping to soil any clarity in role assignment with identity crises and reality-testing, becoming so chaotic that the motive-confusion erupts into disjointed verbal and visual information. Still, Polanski retains his autopilot-level mastery over slow-building suspense, and what appears to be a recycled idea at least ventures into using novel strategies to achieve those tired aims. Still, no one could read the script for this film and think it was going to be a mainstream adventure hit (the unsatisfying circular loop of the narrative alone is evidence that mass audiences were not courted by design), so I'm going to put the impetus for this bomb squarely on the financiers who enabled it.Īnd you haven't even mentioned the comic rape scenes (of which there are at least two, if memory serves)!īased on a True Story isn't very good, mostly because the audience is kept at arm's length by design and the material isn't compelling enough to hold us there with sustained interest.
In addition to the natural and low-light scenes, Polanski of course presents continuous reminders of his visual fluidity and superior instincts. I can't even imagine how many nights the crew had to set up in order to capture the just before nightfall/dawn lighting so often on display here, but WOW. Sympathetic and innocent characters are dispatched with ultra-arch efficiency and played for laffs that don't come. There's also a real and offputting flippancy to the deaths in the film. Gross, and not even the grossest thing we see in this film (I won't spoil it, but a meal here gives Temple of Doom a run for its money). After several attempts to reel the hook out of his throat, Matthau doubles down and swallows it instead. When the Frenchie finally catches a tiny fish, Matthau inhales the creature raw with such fervor that he inhales the hook as well. Matthau contemplates eating the Frenchie, going so far as to take a bite out of his midsection. A description of the first scene will let you know if this is a film you'd ever want to sit through: Matthau's disgusting pirate and his French mate are marooned on a rickety skiff. The film is aggressively unpleasant and keeps an arch tone despite being fairly grotesque.
#PROJECT HAVEN NAPISY PROFESSIONAL#
Caught up with Pirates and man, who the hell was crazy enough to throw this much money at such a weird movie? Walter Matthau has gone on record as hating the project, only signing on because his son goaded him into it, but I thought he committed to his unlikable perf with a consistency that showed he was a professional of the studio system well used to getting through productions he disliked.
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