If you are looking for a tedious film to slog through tonight, you could not do better (Worse?) than 1990’s romantic comedy sensation Green Card. Rarely has Gerard Depardieu been less annoying, and by that I mean really annoying, but not as annoying as in, says, My Father the Hero or The Man in the Iron Mask. And never has Andie MacDowell been more or less lifelike. But neither of these “fine” actors (As in: those two? Actors? Fine! Whatever!) are really what makes this such a tedious slog. No, the real problem is the script.
Green Card is written, directed, and produced by Peter Weir. Ah, that got your attention, didn’t it?! He’s directed some good films: Picnic at Hanging Rock, The Year of Living Dangerously, and The Truman Show. But here’s the thing: he didn’t write those films. Wanna know why? Because he can’t write.
The film has its moments. Gerard Depardieu is amusing at times. Andie MacDowell smiles in some scene. Frowns in others. But overall, the film isn’t any one thing. It is just a little comedy here, a little romance there, and little farce some place else. A good example of this is how the film deals with MacDowell’s current boyfriend. He is chased off by Depardieu, claiming that he will find out what’s going on. We never see him again. Whatever!
And “Whatever!” is right. Because the plot of Green Card is the second worst thing about it. The very worst thing about it is that the characters have all the depth of Andie MacDowell’s acting. That’s right: the characters are make-up thick. Weir seems to be capable of creating two kinds of characters: stereotypes and boring types. The best friend, the boy friend, and the Frenchman are a stereotypes. The female lead is a nonentity, which at least explains why they picked MacDowell: type casting.
So why did I pick Green Card to watch tonight? Part of it was that I wanted to see if the film was better than I remembered it being 22 years ago. In fact, it turned out to be much worse. But it was fun to hate it so much, knowing what a fucktard Depardieu is. Look at him there with Putin.
I was listening to the NPR show
There was a big fight in San Diego this weekend, but it wasn’t even on pay-per-view. It was on the effects of government stimulus between Paul Krugman and UC San Diego professor Valerie Ramey at the American Economics Association conference. Unfortunately, the only coverage I’ve read of it comes from Matt Yglesias in the article whose title demonstrates its problems,
I was at the Supermarket yesterday, and a song came on. It was pretty typical pop—offensive only in its design to be utterly inoffensive. The singer was a typical American Idol style screecher. But the first lyrics struck me, “I want someone to know my favorite ice cream.” That is basically the whole song. For the next three minutes or so, she hammers home that theme that it’s nice to have someone around who gives a shit about you.
For years, I’ve been arguing that