![]() She’s clearly lost-or is about to lose-her mind. She’s lost “all of it,” and she’s not just talking about things. She’s “dead broke,” she complains to Ginger, even as she criticizes the service in the first-class flight she just took. The key is that San Francisco is about as far from Park Avenue as Jasmine can be.Īnd it’s an untenable step down for her. San Francisco could be any city, and that’s fine (but please, someone, tell me how Ginger, a supermarket bagger, could possibly afford such a roomy and unwittingly charming apartment anywhere in that overpriced city). But he wisely stays away from the postcard-perfect vistas he’s shot in his international movies. At first, I expected Allen to play director-tourist as he has recently (in Paris, Barcelona, Rome). The movie splits its time between flashbacks of Jasmine’s privileged life in Manhattan and the Hamptons and her bleak prospects in San Francisco. If anyone deserves her sorry fate, it’s this -let’s just say it-bitch. In fact, I would say that she borders on despicable. But I didn’t mind.ĭespite fine performances from everyone in the cast (some not so surprising, others revelations), the movie is Blanchett’s almost alone. These men are caricatures, to be sure (there’s at least one reference to a “grease monkey”). Ginger’s ex-husband, Augie (a surprisingly good Andrew Dice Clay) and current beau Chili (the magnetic Bobby Cannavale) are both hulking louts. Jasmine accepts his gifts, plans charity functions, and turns a blind eye.īack to the Streetcar source material, Allen gives us not one Stanley but two (two and a half if you count a short appearance by an almost unrecognizable Max Casella). He is seductive even while he is so obviously a crook. He spoils Jasmine while he woos her friend (and her trainer and his lawyer and an underage au pair). His scenes of conspicuous consumption are somehow simultaneously underplayed and way over the top. No one today plays slick better than Alec Baldwin, who is enjoying quite the midlife renaissance. The money was “invested” for her by Jasmine’s husband, Wall Street wolf Hal. While Jasmine drowns her travails in vodka and pills, Ginger has pretty much forgiven the loss of $200,000 in lottery winnings (her best, last chance at any sort of financial stability). In fact, they couldn’t be less similar, not just in appearance but in outlook and temperament. The two sisters are related by adoption only (an oft-repeated and rather unnecessary detail in case any of us were wondering how they could be so very different). She contrasts her sister in colorful patterns and too many pieces of costume jewelry. Her sister, Ginger, on the other hand, played by the ever-engaging Sally Hawkins, is a bit frowsy, and unkempt. She wears tailored shifts with her (sole surviving) Chanel jacket and tasteful genuine gold and diamonds. She’s like a piece of the finest crystal with a web of cracks that get bigger and bigger until the crystal shatters completely.Īs Jasmine, Blanchett appears in soft gold and pearl tones. It is raw and painful and up-close, in-our-face for much of the movie. I’ll add “so far,” because Cate Blanchett’s Jasmine is about as close to an Oscar sure thing as I have ever seen. He somehow gets the very best out of his leading ladies-which is confirmed by their 11 Academy Award nominations and 5 wins. Woody Allen, whether you love him or hate him, has always had a way with women. Imagine Ruth Madoff moving in with poor relations above a Mexican restaurant and applying for work as a dental assistant. And just like Tennessee Williams’s faded Southern belle, Jasmine has to lower her rather exalted expectations and swallow a heaping helping of humility. Like Blanche before her, Jasmine is escaping to the only refuge left, her sister’s place. At the baggage carousel, Jasmine continues her incessant monologue as she collects her matched set of Louis Vuitton luggage. We hear (for the first of many, many times) about her charmed life and fall from grace. She’s chewing the ear off a polite fellow passenger en route to San Francisco. Blanche, Stella, and Stanley are all victims of an elaborate Ponzi scheme that has finally gone up in smoke, taking with it the fortunes of rich and poor alike.Īs the movie opens, our Blanche, one Jasmine French (née Jeanette but changed years ago to achieve more “panache”) is already relying on the kindness of strangers. Thanks to Woody Allen, I now feel I have.īlue Jasmine, Allen’s latest film (his 47th in almost as many years), takes Tennessee Williams’s familiar American tragedy and sets it in the modern era of Occupy Wall Street. Despite no small effort on my part, I wasn’t able to catch her in it. A few years ago, the luminous Australian actress Cate Blanchett wowed audiences in Washington and New York as doomed Blanche Dubois in A Streetcar Named Desire.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |