The Claim (2000) – Review

Thomas Hardy, who wrote poetry and fiction, wrote detailed stories full of richly drawn characters struggling against society and fate. While they would seem to be the type of novels that could be made into successful movies, that hasn’t always been the case. Director Michael Winterbottom, for example, has made three movie adaptations of Hardy novels. The first one, Jude, a straightforward movie version of Jude the Obscure, had two great performances by Kate Winslet and Rachel Griffiths, but failed to capture how the city it took place in was as much a character in the story as the main character (played by Christopher Eccleston). The most recent one, Trishna, a loose, modern-day version of Tess of the D’Urbervilles, which also moved the setting to India, had the opposite problem; it captured the setting perfectly, but suffered from a flat performance by Frieda Pinto in the title role. Only The Claim, Winterbottom’s movie of Hardy’s The Mayor of Casterbridge (adapted by Frank Cottrell Boyce), one of my favorite novels ever, comes off well.

Hope (Sarah Polley) and Donald (Wes Bentley).

Winterbottom and Boyce change the character names, and transplant the story from Victorian England to 1867 California during the Gold Rush (though it was shot in Alberta in Canada), but the story is essentially the same. Daniel Dillon (Peter Mullan) runs a town called Kingdom Come (the original title of the movie), and has his hand in almost everything that goes on in the town – including the bank, the hotel, and the law – except for a saloon/brothel, though since that’s run by Lucia (Milla Jovovich), his girlfriend, that suits him fine. Plus, he owns a fortune in gold. However, three visitors come to town who prove fateful to him. The first is Donald Daglish (Wes Bentley), a surveyor for the Central Pacific Railroad, and Dillon wants to please Daglish so that the railroad will go through Kingdom Come and bring prosperity to it, rather than to another town. The other two visitors are more worrying to Dillon – Elena (Nastassja Kinski) and her daughter Hope (Sarah Polley). 18 years earlier, Dillon had been married to Elena, and they were poor, but on one drunken night, Dillon sold them in exchange for a gold claim that allowed him to get rich. Now that the two have come back, a guilt-ridden Dillon wants to do right by them – especially since Elena is dying of tuberculosis – but he also wants to make sure none of this gets revealed to anyone else in town. Unfortunately, things don’t work out the way Dillon wants them to.

Lucia (Milla Jovovich).

In addition to Hardy, Winterbottom and Boyce are also evoking Robert Altman’s McCabe & Mrs. Miller, in the way this is a western that isn’t about wide-open spaces and individuals determining their own destinies, but about cities, businessmen, and individuals whose destinies are determined by fate. They also have snow and cold in common. In spite of the bleakness of the setting, Winterbottom makes the town feel alive, rather than just a location. I have no idea if this is true, but the extras seem like they’re the same people throughout, rather than different people for each day, and it makes the town seem lived in. In addition to the major characters, there are also interesting supporting characters, such as Bellanger (Julian Richings), one of Daglish’s co-workers at the railroad, and Annie (Shirley Henderson, a Winterbottom regular), the prostitute who falls in love with him. All of this helps to augment the inevitable fate that awaits Dillon. Cinematographer Alwin Kuchler (in the first of two movies he’d shoot with Winterbottom) does a good job of evoking the look of the town as well.

Mullan has a tough job here, as we have to empathize with him despite the awful thing he did, but he never plays for false sympathy, and yet you can see goodness in him, as with the way he treats Lucia when they’re together, and also Elena. He’s also believable as someone in charge. Bentley looks a little too modern to be a 19th century railroad inspector, but he gets into the role, carries an air of authority to him, and also shows his essential good nature. And Polley, as usual, is natural and unaffected. The real surprise here is Jovovich. Best known for the Resident Evil movies, Jovovich has the bawdiness of a madam down pat (a real-life musician, she also sings well), but she also shows vulnerability in the way she reacts when Dillon leaves her for Elena, and in her scenes with Daglish. The Claim was pretty much ignored at the box office, despite the fact a few critics did champion it (as I recall, Richard Roeper put it on his 10 best list for the year), which is too bad, as it works both as a western and an adaptation of Hardy’s novel.

Reel 75: The Western as Allegory

Webster’s (online) Dictionary defines allegory as “the expression by means of fictional figures and actions of truths or generalizations about human existence.” How’s THAT for an eye-opener?

Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking “Wait, isn’t that a metaphor?” No. A metaphor, in its broadest sense, is a symbolic representation of a concept. So while something like “The ship plows through the ocean” is a metaphor, Aesop’s Fables would be an allegory.

Get it? Or have you dozed off already? Well, wake up, because we’ve got a couple of allegorical films for you, and we promise they’ll entertain you. But you knew that already because you’ve seen them and are fully prepared for the spoilers we discuss.

We’ll start with McCabe and Mrs. Miller (1971), directed by Robert Altman and starring Warren Beatty and Julie Christie, along with several other actors that will have you saying “Yup, Altman film.” As usual, there’s often many, many things going on in the frame, but you never lose sight of the main action.

In Part 2, we jump to the year 2000 for The Claim, directed by Michael Winterbottom. On the surface, these films couldn’t be more different, and yet they hit many, many of the same notes. And there are specific plot points that are quite similar. Coincidence? Homage? Something else? We’ll leave that for you to decide.

COMING ATTRACTIONS:

Next time around we’ll be looking at another pair of films that have the same allegory going on, but using the Gangster genre instead. We begin with Thief (1981), directed by Michael Mann. From there we move forward only one year to 1982, and John Mackenzie’s The Long Good Friday. Join us, won’t you?

 

Reel 49: Female Thieves

First and foremost, Sean and Claude are celebrating their adjacent birthdays this week. That’s something that neither knew about the other until after they’d started on this project. So, Happy Birthdays to us!

Second, Claude really wanted to call this episode “Girls Kicking Ass,” but he chickened out and didn’t petition Sean to change it. So, “Female Thieves” it was and “Female Thieves” it remained. (Yes, we have used a few of his episode titles. Sean isn’t a total despot about these things.)

But the fact is, the girls do kick ass in these two films, and they don’t even bother taking names, ’cause that’s just going to slow them down in their pursuit of whatever they’re pursuing.

And while both of these films involve women and their capers, it’s interesting to see that they have vastly different approaches to them, based on circumstance and motivation.

To that end, we begin with 2000’s Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. It’s directed by Ang Lee and stars Chow Yun Fat and Michelle Yeoh. This is a highly-stylized Wuxia film whose action sequences are simultaneously tough to believe and breathtakingly beautiful.

In Part Two we jump to 2018 and a film called Widows, directed by Steve McQueen. In this film, Viola Davis leads a group of women to steal $5 million, a big chunk of which is needed to pay off a local crime boss. It’s loosely based on a British TV series.

COMING ATTRACTIONS: 

In Episode 50(!), we look at a pair of films that somehow managed to inspire television shows, although you may not realize it at first. We’ll start with 1953’s Stalag 17, then move on to 1992 and a film called Singles. Based solely on the plotlines you may be able to guess which series they inspired.  However, you’re going to have a tough time drawing the line from A to B regarding plot points and characters.

Reel 48: A Fan’s Eye View

Strap in, kids, this is going to be a long one.

It took forever for Sean and I to get to this particular episode, and both of us have been dying—DYING, I tells ya—to talk about Almost Famous. It may be Sean’s favorite film that doesn’t involve music by Andrew Lloyd Webber. It’s certainly one of the eleven films in my Top Ten. (See, that’s two pokes I took at him, there. I’ll be paying dearly for this soon, I’m sure.)

At any rate, this time around we’re looking at a couple of films where it’s a fan of the music who gets the insider’s view. And that fan is the audience surrogate for much of the action that takes place.

First up is 2000’s Almost Famous, Cameron Crowe’s semi-autobiographical love letter to 1970s-era Rock and Roll. It’s got everything you want in a movie: some laughs, some drama, some tension, a little sex (mostly implied), an amazing soundtrack and a genuine feel for the era in which it takes place. We were so anxious to talk about this film that it’s probably the longest segment we’ve ever recorded for one movie.

Likewise, in Part 2 we have 24 Hour Party People, a 2002 film by Michael Winterbottom. In this film we get a peek into a specific slice of the early days of the 1980s New Wave era. Likewise, Winterbottom puts us in the middle of the action and while we’re told outright that some of the events in the film didn’t actually happen the way they’re presented, this has a documentary feel that has you buying every last bit of it. And you already know it wasn’t like that!

COMING ATTRACTIONS: 
Next time around we’re looking at some butt-kicking female thieves. First up is Ang Lee’s Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon from 2000. Less well-known but still really good is Widows, a Steve McQueen film from 2008 that will grab you quickly and suddenly turn on a dime into a much different story.

Reel 41: In the Record Store

With today’s episode drop, we’re moving into a new mini-block of themed episodes, all of which involve music in one way or another. And in this episode we start where most people did when it came to music back in the day: in the record shop. This despite the fact that by the time either of these films came out, vinyl was considered a more or less quaint format for music.

We begin with 1995’s Empire Records, directed by Allan Moyle and starring a lot of people who weren’t honest-to-god stars yet, so you’ll have a lot of “Ermahgerd, they’re such babies here!” and you’d be correct. This is one of those films that takes place over roughly a 24-hour period (probably just a little longer), and a bunch of lives manage to change in a big way during that day.

From there we move to High Fidelity (2000), directed by Stephen Frears and starring John Cusack, Iben Hjejle, Jack Black and a couple of surprises here and there. It’s a spot-on look at the near-middle-aged man’s psyche just before he realizes that he can’t keep on doing stuff the way he’s been doing it so far.

COMING ATTRACTIONS:

Our next episode is a fun one, as we look at a couple of biographical movies that are presented in a rather unconventional way. We’ll start with 2007’s I’m Not There, directed by Todd Haynes, and then move on to Love and Mercy from 2014, directed by Bill Pohlad. Interestingly, they have something in common not only with each other, but with the recent Elvis biopic, which hadn’t yet been released at the time we recorded that episode. So watch this space for that detail.

Reel 20: Depression Comedies

We’ve heard any number of film scholars suggest that the films of the Depression Era were meant to be escapist entertainment, and that’s why screwball comedies and lavish musicals really took off during that period. People were having miserable lives, and for a couple of hours they could get away from all that.

1941’s Sullivan’s Travels essentially comes around to that point of view, but it takes pretty much the entire film to get there. Nevertheless, Preston Sturges has given us a fun bit of a romp…until it’s not. But even the point after the film takes a hard turn has some comedic moments in it.

We’re also spending some time on the Coen Brothers’ film O Brother, Where Art Thou?, from 2000. It’s also set during the Great Depression and it takes a very different look at that time while still providing a ton of entertainment. And while both films have wildly divergent approaches to that period—which could easily be attributed to the distance provided by time itself—there are many, many things which the two films have in common. In fact, we’d venture to suggest that we only barely scratched that particular surface, despite this being a rather long episode.

COMING ATTRACTIONS: In our next episode we look in on the lives of ex-spies and the things they do to keep busy. In that spirit we have 1998’s Ronin and Duplicity, from 2009.

Reel 13: Love, Maybe

PROGRAMMING NOTE: Your podcatcher may have downloaded an episode with an audio problem in the second half of the show. If this is the case, you’ll need to delete and re-download the episode to hear it correctly. Apologies for the goof, and thanks for understanding.

So, where have we been?

Actually, it’s Claude’s fault that the episode is so late. What with school reopening, plus some personal drama coming from a couple of directions, it’s been a rough few weeks and apologies all around. To make up for it, Reel 14 will also be coming out in no more than a couple of days.

At any rate, this time around we’ve got a couple of wonderful, bittersweet films that explore relationships between a man and a woman that go deep enough that one could even use the word “love,” but which don’t take that one crucial step, each for their own reasons.

First one is Wong Kar-Wei’s 2000 film In the Mood for Love, which is set in 1962 Hong Kong and stars Tony Leung and Maggie Cheung as a couple who is convinced that their spouses are having an affair with one another. From there we move to a modern-day Tokyo, to see how Scarlett Johansson and Bill Murray are handling things with each other, in 2003’s Lost in Translation, directed by Sofia Coppola. These characters are also separated physically and perhaps emotionally from their spouses, and isolated by their inability to speak the local language.

It’s worth noting (because we didn’t bring it up during this over-stuffed show) that both films end the same way: with the male lead whispering something we don’t hear. Go see the films if you haven’t already, then come back here and listen in, and see if you don’t agree with us.

Also, in the interest of full disclosure: Sean wants to note that when he worked in the video store many years ago (because, video store), Sofia Coppola was a customer in the store at least once that he knows of, but he’s pretty sure she didn’t bribe him to cover any of her films for this show.