Maps To The Stars (15.)
Directed by David Cronenberg. Starring Julianne Moore, Mia Wasikowska, Evan Bird, John Cusack, Olivia Williams and Robert Pattinson. 116 mins
The positive is that this is Cronenberg's best film in some time; the underwhelming is that it is a Hollywood satire. Most Hollywood satires are like posting a photo on Facebook of you lying spew stained and dishevelled on the floor of a Vegas lap dance establishment – Oh, it's so degenerate and disgraceful, and Oh you're so ashamed of yourself, but Oh don't you wish you were here. Maps is different from the usual Hollywood satire by being genuinely funny and by having absolute no affection for its subject matter. Rarely has laugh-out-loud funny been so po-faced.
Robert Pattinson is our chauffeur to an extended family of Hollywood ghouls, picking up Agatha (Wasikowska), who isn't quite the golly gosh starstruck out-of-towner she appears to be, from the airport and driving her around the sights on the Hills. A formidable cast has been assembled and most are rewarded with meaty roles. Moore, giving her 19th onscreen nervous breakdown, is again complelling as a fading star clawing desperately for her comeback. As Hollywood's hottest teen star, Evan Bird is a perfect precocious child monster cross spawn of Justin Timberlake and Fred Savage.
Bruce Wagner's script throw ups any number of cracking lines, the kind that offer the exclusivity of insider jokes but are, mostly, crafted to appeal beyond an industry crowd. Cronenberg's history of being thwarted by LA suits, means there is clearly some bile behind these lines, but the execution is calm and detached, just like all his other films. As a film industry black comedy it works really well but toward the end it tries to build it up into a Greek tragedy, a direction which seems among the duller outcomes it could have chosen.
Directed by David Cronenberg. Starring Julianne Moore, Mia Wasikowska, Evan Bird, John Cusack, Olivia Williams and Robert Pattinson. 116 mins
The positive is that this is Cronenberg's best film in some time; the underwhelming is that it is a Hollywood satire. Most Hollywood satires are like posting a photo on Facebook of you lying spew stained and dishevelled on the floor of a Vegas lap dance establishment – Oh, it's so degenerate and disgraceful, and Oh you're so ashamed of yourself, but Oh don't you wish you were here. Maps is different from the usual Hollywood satire by being genuinely funny and by having absolute no affection for its subject matter. Rarely has laugh-out-loud funny been so po-faced.
Robert Pattinson is our chauffeur to an extended family of Hollywood ghouls, picking up Agatha (Wasikowska), who isn't quite the golly gosh starstruck out-of-towner she appears to be, from the airport and driving her around the sights on the Hills. A formidable cast has been assembled and most are rewarded with meaty roles. Moore, giving her 19th onscreen nervous breakdown, is again complelling as a fading star clawing desperately for her comeback. As Hollywood's hottest teen star, Evan Bird is a perfect precocious child monster cross spawn of Justin Timberlake and Fred Savage.
Bruce Wagner's script throw ups any number of cracking lines, the kind that offer the exclusivity of insider jokes but are, mostly, crafted to appeal beyond an industry crowd. Cronenberg's history of being thwarted by LA suits, means there is clearly some bile behind these lines, but the execution is calm and detached, just like all his other films. As a film industry black comedy it works really well but toward the end it tries to build it up into a Greek tragedy, a direction which seems among the duller outcomes it could have chosen.
