The worldwide hipster community was shaken to its bohemian core a few months ago when an LA Times story cast one of its most sacred totems, director Wes Anderson, in a less-than-flattering light. The prevailing impression that emerged from the report, compiled by Chris Lee during a visit to the London set of Anderson’s latest opus, Fantastic Mr. Fox, was of a feckless, idiosyncratic diva who issued orders to his overworked crew via email from the comfort of his Paris flat — a major creative faux pax, as hipsters are only supposed to look as if they aren’t trying.
If the Times report is to be believed, Anderson may well be the first filmmaker to literally mail in a movie, albeit digitally. He would not, however, be the first to do so figuratively; indeed, some of Hollywood’s greatest talents have fallen prey to the practice. Consider the following examples:
Ocean’s Twelve — You may think that Hollywood’s stars lead pampered lives, but the reality is that many of them work upwards of 16 hours a day. Who can blame them for wanting to escape to George Clooney’s posh Italian villa for a while? And if director Steven Soderbergh happens to show up with a camera, well, why not make a movie out of it?
The Cannonball Run — Back when he was the biggest movie star in the world, Burt Reynolds could defecate on film and audiences would happily eat it up. And that’s pretty much what he and his pals did in Cannonball Run, an incoherent ensemble comedy build around some sort of pointless car race. I defy anyone to try to explain the plot of this movie with a straight face.
Semi-Pro — You can almost hear the studio pitch for this one: “Will Ferrell. With an afro. Ka-ching!” Which is fine — for a pitch. But even a comic heavyweight like Ferrell and a cast of able co-stars like Woody Harrelson, Will Arnett, Jackie Earle Haley and Kristen Wiig, can’t work their magic without a halfway decent script.
The Island of Dr. Moreau — Earlier in his career, Marlon Brando could phone in a role and people wouldn’t know any better, as he proved with his Oscar-winning performance in Apocalypse Now. Val Kilmer, on the other hand, could never afford such a luxury. Neither could be bothered to exert themselves much in this legendary sci-fi debacle.
Jack — Pressured to make a more commercially viable film in order to bolster his credibility with studio financiers, Martin Scorsese responded with 1986‘s Oscar-winning The Color of Money. Faced with similar circumstances in the early ‘90s, Francis Ford Coppola served up a steaming pile of Jack. Guess which filmmaker is still relevant today?
Righteous Kill — Granted, both Robert De Niro and Al Pacino have coasted through the better part of a decade, but one would think they’d bring their A-games to their first collaboration since 1995’s Heat, if only out of mutual respect. Instead, their primary motivation appeared to be mutual desire for an easy paycheck.
Couples Retreat — The prospect of combining Vince Vaughn and Jon Favreau’s potent chemistry with Jason Bateman’s unrivaled wit and timing conjured tantalizing visions of a Power Station-esque supergroup. Not since the British Bulldogs joined forces with Koko B. Ware, in Wrestlemania IV, did a trio hold such enormous promise, only to end in bitter, crushing disappointment.
Wild Hogs — With a cast that boasted eight Oscar nominations between them and a writer from the whip-smart TV series Arrested Development, Wild Hogs should have been so much more than a bland, formulaic, and shockingly profitable collection of hackneyed, predictable jokes. One’s heart goes out to William H. Macy, who looked like he was in actual pain as he went through the motions. Unlike co-star John Travolta, his reputation as an elite actor hasn’t been discredited — yet.
Fred Claus — Four years prior, Elf proved that a PG-rated Christmas comedy could score big laughs, so there’s really no excuse for the mediocrity of this film, especially considering the firepower of its cast, which included Oscar winners Rachel Weisz, Kevin Spacey and Kathy Bates, and Oscar nominee Paul Giamatti. This is Vince Vaughn’s second film on the list — not a good sign.
The X-Files: I Want to Believe — Just how dreadful was Mulder and Scully’s long-awaited return to the big screen? Dreadful enough that even the cult-like legion of X-philes largely revolted against this muddled, meandering franchise-killer. Chris Carter had ten years to come up with ideas and the best he could manage is some tortured gobbledygook involving organ smuggling, same-sex marriage and Xzibit. Really. Did he even bother to write a second draft of the script?
