Jacob's Slattern
The Good German dissolves into The Bad Woman.
BY GREGORY
First off, I’d like to thank Steven Soderbergh for making movies that are easy to review. This saves me a lot of time
and effort. Hey, hey -- no, I don’t mean that they’re all bad. Indeed, his critical darlings tend to annoy me (they’re made
for the masses, not thinking people), and I certainly don’t need his damned Ocean’s movies. But that Yes concert video
is nifty, that one about people lying about sex on videotape was okay, and I even derived guilty pleasure from his Cliffs-
Notes version of Solaris -- all the story, none of that tedious contemplation!
Well, The Good German once again puts me on a fence. It has its moments, it is ambitious, it’s occasionally even a bit
risky. But, mostly, it is facile, presumptuous and remarkably silly -- the not-quite-funny-enough black-sheep sibling to
Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid or the flashbacks from Airplane! Thus, thank you again, my job here is easy.
Although the director himself (working from Joseph Kanon’s novel, adapted with great bluster by Paul Attanasio)
recently defined his attempt with The Good German as “Michael Curtiz minus the Hays Code,” I think he’s being very
generous with himself, and instead the movie should be considered “Amateurish wannabe-noir with a budget, wherein
George Clooney gets to say ‘fuck a duck’ and Tobey Maguire gets to show off some desperate humpin’ ‘n’ pumpin’”
(the latter bit being one of the grodiest things I have ever observed -- anywhere -- and I even recently saw some roadkill
up close). Put simply, The Good German is a movie that one can like in much the same way that one likes a friend who
isn’t particularly good at anything, but generally means well and says strange things and keeps trying. I tousle the hair of
The Good German, and very nearly (if halfheartedly) recommend it. But not quite.
The story takes place in Berlin, immediately following the end of World War II. The city, obviously, is in terrible disarray
-- or at least as much disarray as can be faked via curiously underpopulated Burbank backlots and CG backgrounds. Into
this milieu comes Tully (Maguire), a volatile GI who also enjoys coming into Lena Brandt (Cate “When I Grow Up I
Wanna Be Meryl Streep” Blanchett). Lena spends the majority of the movie doing that “moody” thing whilst showing off
her pointy face and apparently black lipstick in faux-classic close-up (although, unlike in real classics, she’s not quite so
out of focus). The rest of the time Lena spends being an abused prostitute and moaning about it. Tully, her “lover,” is
basically a dick, and he goes around hitting everybody, including not only her but his boss, journalist Jacob Geismar.
Jacob, you see, has come to Berlin because he too used to come into Lena (as did, apparently, the majority of the
Russian army). This leads to just about everybody skulking near shadowy doorways and intoning, “Lena…Lena?” before
being hastily and puzzlingly ass-whooped. Tully even ass-whoops Jacob. Never mind that this would (as a cineaste
associate pointed out) land the little private in the brig in a matter of seconds, Berlin or no Berlin.
As it turns out, Russians and Germans and Americans and others are having a mostly lousy time in barely-post-war
Berlin (“You can never really get out of Berlin,” moodily declares Lena -- which summoned a huge guffaw from a female
sitting near me), and thus everybody goes around pointing guns at each other. Pretty soon, during the Potsdam
negotiations, Tully is found floating face down in the river with specially-timed cash-exploding mechanisms in his coat
pockets (don’t ask; I didn’t), which leaves Jacob to go around getting ass-whooped on his own -- which he does, whilst
sporting ear-bandaging reminiscent of Jack Nicholson’s nose-bandaging in Chinatown -- which wasn’t in black & white
and is otherwise mostly unrelated. Then Jacob and Lena draw nearer to one another in service of her dubious “survival”
theme, and eventually we find out -- I think -- who “The Good German” is (hint: It’s not Franka Potente, who is not in
this movie).
As I mentioned up top, The Good German has its moments. It opens with a hopeful sense of excitement about the
possibility of shooting a new film in classic style. Then, in brilliant counterpoint to this attempted classic style, Maguire
will blurt some line like, “Like you should be fuckin’ fuckin’ (sic) Dwight Eisenhower, Countess Roundheels?” (Things
like this make one go, “Huh?” -- which is at least, for the purposes of a movie, better than going, “ZZZ…”) I also
laughed at the bit when Maguire says, “Money allows you to be who you truly are” (clever kid did marry into the
executive branch of Universal). Also, frankly, it is fun to watch Maguire and Clooney -- two of the smuggest, most
annoying men in the business -- getting ass-whooped.
Is the movie moving? Thrilling? No, not really. There’s a somewhat involving tussle near the end, and when Lena’s
character is exposed, it’s not exactly shocking, but things do perk up a bit (you think Nazis were bad; you should try
women!). There are also some amusing moments with Beau Bridges as a wise-cracking Colonel whose primary purpose
is to pick on Clooney. Oh, and when Clooney, later, has breakfast with a skanky Aryan blonde (Blanchett goes brunette
here) who’s snarfing her first fresh pig-meat in years, he says, “The way you’re eating it, you could turn anyone kosher”
-- which is kind of funny. The guy who plays the Russian general is good. And there are some nice angles in a sewer.
I won’t even mention the drippy “homage” to Casablanca at the end, as all other critics will go there; I'll just mention
that Casablanca is light-years more adult in theme and tone than this crude attempt at the era.
Beyond that, the performances are merely passable except for Maguire, who is downright terrible (and not because his
character is repulsive; he, the actor, is terrible here). The script, well, it just chugs along in a shrugworthy way. Thomas
Newman’s score is so hilariously bombastic that it constantly magnifies the movie’s dramatic shortcomings. And that’s
it, really: I tousle the hair of The Good German, pat it on the butt, and tell it to eat its vegetables so one day it may grow
up into a real Motion Picture.
The Good German
Entertainment Value: 6/13
Style: 7/13
Philosophical Insight: 5/13
The Bottom Line: Here's Not Lookin' At You, Kids.
-Gregory Weinkauf, 14 November, 2006
The Good German dissolves into The Bad Woman.
BY GREGORY
First off, I’d like to thank Steven Soderbergh for making movies that are easy to review. This saves me a lot of time
and effort. Hey, hey -- no, I don’t mean that they’re all bad. Indeed, his critical darlings tend to annoy me (they’re made
for the masses, not thinking people), and I certainly don’t need his damned Ocean’s movies. But that Yes concert video
is nifty, that one about people lying about sex on videotape was okay, and I even derived guilty pleasure from his Cliffs-
Notes version of Solaris -- all the story, none of that tedious contemplation!
Well, The Good German once again puts me on a fence. It has its moments, it is ambitious, it’s occasionally even a bit
risky. But, mostly, it is facile, presumptuous and remarkably silly -- the not-quite-funny-enough black-sheep sibling to
Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid or the flashbacks from Airplane! Thus, thank you again, my job here is easy.
Although the director himself (working from Joseph Kanon’s novel, adapted with great bluster by Paul Attanasio)
recently defined his attempt with The Good German as “Michael Curtiz minus the Hays Code,” I think he’s being very
generous with himself, and instead the movie should be considered “Amateurish wannabe-noir with a budget, wherein
George Clooney gets to say ‘fuck a duck’ and Tobey Maguire gets to show off some desperate humpin’ ‘n’ pumpin’”
(the latter bit being one of the grodiest things I have ever observed -- anywhere -- and I even recently saw some roadkill
up close). Put simply, The Good German is a movie that one can like in much the same way that one likes a friend who
isn’t particularly good at anything, but generally means well and says strange things and keeps trying. I tousle the hair of
The Good German, and very nearly (if halfheartedly) recommend it. But not quite.
The story takes place in Berlin, immediately following the end of World War II. The city, obviously, is in terrible disarray
-- or at least as much disarray as can be faked via curiously underpopulated Burbank backlots and CG backgrounds. Into
this milieu comes Tully (Maguire), a volatile GI who also enjoys coming into Lena Brandt (Cate “When I Grow Up I
Wanna Be Meryl Streep” Blanchett). Lena spends the majority of the movie doing that “moody” thing whilst showing off
her pointy face and apparently black lipstick in faux-classic close-up (although, unlike in real classics, she’s not quite so
out of focus). The rest of the time Lena spends being an abused prostitute and moaning about it. Tully, her “lover,” is
basically a dick, and he goes around hitting everybody, including not only her but his boss, journalist Jacob Geismar.
Jacob, you see, has come to Berlin because he too used to come into Lena (as did, apparently, the majority of the
Russian army). This leads to just about everybody skulking near shadowy doorways and intoning, “Lena…Lena?” before
being hastily and puzzlingly ass-whooped. Tully even ass-whoops Jacob. Never mind that this would (as a cineaste
associate pointed out) land the little private in the brig in a matter of seconds, Berlin or no Berlin.
As it turns out, Russians and Germans and Americans and others are having a mostly lousy time in barely-post-war
Berlin (“You can never really get out of Berlin,” moodily declares Lena -- which summoned a huge guffaw from a female
sitting near me), and thus everybody goes around pointing guns at each other. Pretty soon, during the Potsdam
negotiations, Tully is found floating face down in the river with specially-timed cash-exploding mechanisms in his coat
pockets (don’t ask; I didn’t), which leaves Jacob to go around getting ass-whooped on his own -- which he does, whilst
sporting ear-bandaging reminiscent of Jack Nicholson’s nose-bandaging in Chinatown -- which wasn’t in black & white
and is otherwise mostly unrelated. Then Jacob and Lena draw nearer to one another in service of her dubious “survival”
theme, and eventually we find out -- I think -- who “The Good German” is (hint: It’s not Franka Potente, who is not in
this movie).
As I mentioned up top, The Good German has its moments. It opens with a hopeful sense of excitement about the
possibility of shooting a new film in classic style. Then, in brilliant counterpoint to this attempted classic style, Maguire
will blurt some line like, “Like you should be fuckin’ fuckin’ (sic) Dwight Eisenhower, Countess Roundheels?” (Things
like this make one go, “Huh?” -- which is at least, for the purposes of a movie, better than going, “ZZZ…”) I also
laughed at the bit when Maguire says, “Money allows you to be who you truly are” (clever kid did marry into the
executive branch of Universal). Also, frankly, it is fun to watch Maguire and Clooney -- two of the smuggest, most
annoying men in the business -- getting ass-whooped.
Is the movie moving? Thrilling? No, not really. There’s a somewhat involving tussle near the end, and when Lena’s
character is exposed, it’s not exactly shocking, but things do perk up a bit (you think Nazis were bad; you should try
women!). There are also some amusing moments with Beau Bridges as a wise-cracking Colonel whose primary purpose
is to pick on Clooney. Oh, and when Clooney, later, has breakfast with a skanky Aryan blonde (Blanchett goes brunette
here) who’s snarfing her first fresh pig-meat in years, he says, “The way you’re eating it, you could turn anyone kosher”
-- which is kind of funny. The guy who plays the Russian general is good. And there are some nice angles in a sewer.
I won’t even mention the drippy “homage” to Casablanca at the end, as all other critics will go there; I'll just mention
that Casablanca is light-years more adult in theme and tone than this crude attempt at the era.
Beyond that, the performances are merely passable except for Maguire, who is downright terrible (and not because his
character is repulsive; he, the actor, is terrible here). The script, well, it just chugs along in a shrugworthy way. Thomas
Newman’s score is so hilariously bombastic that it constantly magnifies the movie’s dramatic shortcomings. And that’s
it, really: I tousle the hair of The Good German, pat it on the butt, and tell it to eat its vegetables so one day it may grow
up into a real Motion Picture.
The Good German
Entertainment Value: 6/13
Style: 7/13
Philosophical Insight: 5/13
The Bottom Line: Here's Not Lookin' At You, Kids.
-Gregory Weinkauf, 14 November, 2006
| REVIEWS |
| ÜberCiné |
™
| All Material Here © ÜberCiné (unless otherwise noted) - All Rights Reserved. |
 | |  |
| "Hey, how come you get all the deftly lit close-ups?" © 2006 Warner Bros. |