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The Cat's Meow (April 18, 2002)
"The Cat's Meow" was a lot like drinking a cool, fresh glass of ice
water (bottled, not tap, of course). It's a refreshing sensation to
watch amidst the rest of the garbage out there right now, but after that
immediate burst of relief, one sits back and deliberates, "Wait. That
didn't taste like anything."
This movie was definitely based on a play. Nothing really happens,
there's never a true sense of danger or tension, and frankly, it was so
plain and ordinary in every way (even in the scenes in which they have
some nice Cassavetes/Woody Allan dialogue overlap, it's so noticeable
that you can actually SEE Bogdonavich's finger shadows in the background
conducting his wordplay orchestra).
However, the acting was superb on many fronts. I mainly saw this flick
because of Eddie Izzard, who I've been into before you (a friend of mine
from the Old Country used to rant and rave about him before he did his
special on HBO). I've been in love with his abilities ever since. The
key of this film was that so much was going on underneath the Bret
Easton Ellis facade of decadence that expressions, eye movements, and
gestures were of maximum import. So much information was conveyed
through the most simple of eyebrow movements and such. Good for them (no
sarcasm in that comment, no less).
Kristen Dunst was fair, but whether or not she is warranted the type of
praise she's received (the best reviews of this flick, if you'll notice,
normally speak of her talent in the film) is rather ambiguous. Good, not
great. Izzard was the man in this one.
Finally, I thought the very ending (quick, much like Tim Robbins'
immortal "The Cradle will Rock") was so incredibly eerie, hollow, cold,
and twisted that it made the rest of the rather fairly monotonous and
monolayered flick seem like a completely different picture, one with
great depth and pre-thought.
I suppose my advice is that you should see this film because of its
acting... and if you do, watch it until the very end.
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