Review #1,455: 'Four Rooms' (1995)

The early 1990s saw a rise in independent film-making that gave a voice to the wannabe auteurs and allowed them to handpick their own posse of preferred actors. This movement was spearheaded by the likes of Richard Linklater, Steven Soderbergh and Quentin Tarantino, and backed by disgraced scumbag Harvey Weinstein. Fresh off the huge success of Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction, Quentin Tarantino was becoming a household name, and his unique brand of motor-mouthed, pop-culture-heavy dialogue and extreme violence was striking a chord with moviegoers both young and old. He took this unexpected fame and influence and used it unite a group of indie up-and-comers - Allison Anders, Alexandre Rockwell and Robert Rodruguez - for an offbeat anthology film about a young bellhop named Ted (Tim Roth) and his encounters with the various oddballs staying at his hotel.

The result was Four Rooms, and there's a reason Tarantino chooses to forget his own segment behind the camera when his trailers announce the new film as the nth of his career. It begins promisingly with a quirky animated intro that sets the goofy, unpredictable tone of the film, before diving into a collection of stories that appear to have been dreamt up in between bong hits. One thing Four Rooms has going for it is that the short films improve as we progress, but even Tarantino's final section reeks of narcissism and smugness. Anders' first story, about a coven of witches (including Ione Skye, Madonna, Alicia Witt, Lili Taylor, Sammi Davis and Valeria Golino) attempting to resurrect a goddess, may have worked for an episode of Charmed, but falls flat as the opener of what is supposed to be a collaboration between some of cinema's most exciting maverick filmmakers. Rockwell's short plonks Ted in the middle of psycho-sexual game between married couple Sigfried (David Proval) and Angela (Jennifer Beals).

The first two segments may have raised a titter if the writers didn't have such a tin ear for comedy and had a lead actor with a natural gift for over-the-top comedy. I love Tim Roth and he has had many great roles, but his twitching, shrieking Ted belongs in a cartoon. Rodriguez and Tarantino's efforts fare better because they rely less on Roth's prat-falls and more on their own self-indulgences. The performance of Antonio Banderas as a ridiculously posturing father who leaves his children under Ted's protection is a particular highlight from the third story, as the children naturally decide to make Ted's night a living Hell. Tarantino's climactic entry is full of memorable dialogue and pop culture insights, but the director, who also plays the main role, fails to inject much life into what is otherwise a plodding re-hash of his favourite episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents. Anthology films are always hit-and-miss, but Four Rooms fails to register a single hit. What was supposed to be a triumphant coming-together of a new wave of hip filmmakers is instead a limp and uneven slog through a tide of bad comedy and even worse ideas. One of the biggest disappointments of the 90s.


Directed by: Allison Anders, Alexandre Rockwell, Robert Rodriguez, Quentin Tarantino
Starring: Tim Roth, Antonio Banderas, Valeria Golino, Madonna, Alicia Witt, Sammi Davis, Lili Taylor, Ione Skye, David Proval
Country: USA

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #344: 'River's Edge' (1986)

There were two films released in 1986 whose youthful protagonists confronted death in the form of a dead body. The first, Rob Reiner's coming-of-age drama, Stand By Me, was set in 1959 and followed three friends on a journey simply to witness a dead body, what they find (as the narrator advises) is themselves and each other. But what this film also highlights in the closing moments, is that these three kids, are the generation that  will almost certainly be confronted with death in a more profound way, in Vietnam. Following shortly after Stand By Me, River's Edge was released, which tackled, not the nostalgic journey of three kids, who spend an encapsulated moment of perfection before innocence is lost, but portrayed a very contemporary place where the teenagers (the kids of the men who went to Vietnam) seem completely detached from death: desensitised perhaps. Vietnam was, after all the first televised war in world history.

This is a generation completely alienated from, and of course (as teenagers do) suspicious of the adult world, like no other generation before. These kids are from broken homes. 'John', a tall, bulking, detached guy nonchalantly tells his group of friends that he has killed a peer, Jamie (Danyi Deats), and left her naked by a river. Of course the friends do not believe him at first, but as they are all gradually taken to the site where the body lies, the event is proven. However, with such a fundamentally deep and seemingly unbreakable barrier between the adult world and the young, the murder is kept within the circle. Crispin Glover's Lanye (with his usual jittery, yet brimming style), takes the lead in covering up the conspiracy, but the group inevitably fractures and that adult wall is opened. Once this opens the adult world is confronted with a teenaged generation that is numb; that is, these 'young adults' have shown no emotion to the death of one of their fellow students.

It's a damning indictment of the MTV (or Gen X) generation, whose diet of consumption in all of its capacities, had seemingly completely detached from society. It had seen it's parents generation  fail in revolution, only to be eaten up be 'the system', becoming the executives of the money hungry 1980's. The only adult character that the group has any genuine contact with is a recluse, who's girlfriend is of the blow-up variety, selling weed to them, perhaps still living that '60's dream? Dennis Hopper's Feck provides this anchor between the generations - but his clearly boarder line mentality simply highlights that the dream has gone.

With some decent performances from the likes of Keanu Reeves, Joshua Miller (whose precocious performance probably lead to him being cast as a 50 year old vampire in Katheryn Bigalow's Near Dark (1987), and particularly the killer, 'John', played with distance, and genuinely hauntingly detached looks, by Daniel Roebuck. Along with some beautifully stark cinematography by Frederick Elmes (who had collaborated with David Lynch on Eraserhead (1977) and Blue Velvet (1986)), the project also seems aesthetically and thematically linked to the later Twin Peaks televisions series (for which Tim Hunter directed some episodes). The film leaves you with a sour taste, perhaps the start of societal detachment that might later lead to events such as the Columbine shootings: Writer Neal Jimenez did loosely base River's Edge on a real life incident involving 16 year old Anthony Jacques Broussard in Milpitas, California on November 3 1981.


Directed by: Tim Hunter
Starring: Crispin Glover, Keanu Reeves, Ione Skye, Dennis Hopper
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Marc Ivamy