The Brothers Bloom
The Brothers Bloom is not a great film in the sense of leaving a powerful impression, like Star Wars or Pulp Fiction. Nor is it a very original film, covering ground that is well-trodden by the likes of David Mamet, Dale Launer, and Stan Shapiro. It is, in fact, a very minor film, in and out of theaters in a flash, and likely to be forgotten even by its admirers. But while not wholly original in its subject matter, it is original in its presentation, and while its significance may be no more than fluff, it is very, very good fluff.
The film stars Adrien Brody and Mark Ruffalo as the Brothers Bloom. They have polished their confidence games into an art that grows ever more entertaining for Ruffalo and ever more wearying for Brody. After years of threatening to do so, Brody finally calls it quits and retires to a coastal villa in Montenegro. After a few months of allowing Brody his requested solitude, Ruffalo tracks him down to recruit him for One Last Job.
If you've seen any movie about career criminals, you know that One Last Job always, always leads to trouble, and the "con artist" subgenre always presents the audience with questions that have become cliche. Who's conning who? Is the budding romance between the con artist and his mark sincere, or just a part of the game? What's real and what's a double-cross? When things start to go wrong, how far can the tricksters continue their scheme before things get too dangerous?
The Brothers Bloom knows it's identity as a con artist movie, and so presents us with a storyline in which all of these dilemmas fight for attention until the audience has to shrug and realize they'll never outsmart the movie so they might as well just go along for the ride.
Before I get into how much fun that ride is, I have to get a couple of nit-picks out of the way. I enjoyed the movie so much, I almost hate to mention relatively small complaints, but The Brothers Bloom has two problems that are so unnecessary that they do deserve mention. First of all, what's the point of having two different narrators? The prologue, a charming vignette about how the Brothers Bloom became con artists as young children, is narrated by Ricky Jay, who is, famously, not only an actor but also somewhat an expert on confidence games. Yet Jay's narration sets the tone perfectly by relating the origin of the Brothers Bloom as if it was a fairy tale. Then, we have an opening (and later, a closing) scene narrated by Brody's character. But why? Brody's narration is not only completely pointless, but it's also confusing to suddenly switch to first-person narration for no reason whatsoever.
My second complaint is the names of the characters. Both the title and the dialogue refer to the brothers as "the Brothers Bloom," and yet their names are Bloom and Steven. This is pointlessly confusing. Is Brody's character only referred to by last name -- even by his own brother? Or is his full name actually Bloom Bloom?
Yet I must emphasize that these are mere nit-picks. The Brothers Bloom, for all its lack of originality and unnecessary minor confusions, is highly entertaining, and often quite magical. Almost every single shot in this movie is worthy of artistic admiration equal to that of any painting in the Met. Part of this is due to the beautiful exterior and interior locations, which are uniformly a joy to look at. Yet two of the actors also deserve credit for the film's wonderful visuals. As the brothers' sidekick, Rinko Kinkuchi expresses a subtle yet undeniable erotic undertone with every expression, while still conveying a range worthy of a silent film actor. Adrien Brody's slighty Munchesque face, accompanied by a body language that balances the contradictory notions of grace and gangliness, is even more expressive. There is a moment when Bloom looks at an apple cart that is worthy of Rene Magritte at his finest.
All of this is accompanied by a delightfully old-fashioned score by Nathan Johnson, who claims to have been equally inspired by orchestral composer Nino Rota and rock group The Band. If you think about it, you can detect the influences of both, but I advise you not to think about it and just accept the score for what it is, a musical enhancement of the story's timelessness. Visually, there is very little evidence to pin this film down to any specific time period, and one can easily imagine the film taking place in the 50s or 20s with almost no changes whatsoever (with Rachel Weisz's modern-day cars the only real clue to a contemporary setting).
More than anything, there is a refreshing innocence to the film. While the subject matter may be that of a David Mamet script, the dialogue certainly isn't; it lacks the cynicism and foul language that Mamet and his imitators (both good and bad) revel in. These characters, for all their surface dishonesty, care about each other. Even Steven's Philosophy of the Con depends on making sure that each mark walks away happy. Yes, they have been conned of their money, but in their happy oblivion, they feel themselves to be better off for it.
I highly recommend The Brothers Bloom. You'll never mistake it for a great film. But sometimes "very good" is enough.
The film stars Adrien Brody and Mark Ruffalo as the Brothers Bloom. They have polished their confidence games into an art that grows ever more entertaining for Ruffalo and ever more wearying for Brody. After years of threatening to do so, Brody finally calls it quits and retires to a coastal villa in Montenegro. After a few months of allowing Brody his requested solitude, Ruffalo tracks him down to recruit him for One Last Job.
If you've seen any movie about career criminals, you know that One Last Job always, always leads to trouble, and the "con artist" subgenre always presents the audience with questions that have become cliche. Who's conning who? Is the budding romance between the con artist and his mark sincere, or just a part of the game? What's real and what's a double-cross? When things start to go wrong, how far can the tricksters continue their scheme before things get too dangerous?
The Brothers Bloom knows it's identity as a con artist movie, and so presents us with a storyline in which all of these dilemmas fight for attention until the audience has to shrug and realize they'll never outsmart the movie so they might as well just go along for the ride.
Before I get into how much fun that ride is, I have to get a couple of nit-picks out of the way. I enjoyed the movie so much, I almost hate to mention relatively small complaints, but The Brothers Bloom has two problems that are so unnecessary that they do deserve mention. First of all, what's the point of having two different narrators? The prologue, a charming vignette about how the Brothers Bloom became con artists as young children, is narrated by Ricky Jay, who is, famously, not only an actor but also somewhat an expert on confidence games. Yet Jay's narration sets the tone perfectly by relating the origin of the Brothers Bloom as if it was a fairy tale. Then, we have an opening (and later, a closing) scene narrated by Brody's character. But why? Brody's narration is not only completely pointless, but it's also confusing to suddenly switch to first-person narration for no reason whatsoever.
My second complaint is the names of the characters. Both the title and the dialogue refer to the brothers as "the Brothers Bloom," and yet their names are Bloom and Steven. This is pointlessly confusing. Is Brody's character only referred to by last name -- even by his own brother? Or is his full name actually Bloom Bloom?
Yet I must emphasize that these are mere nit-picks. The Brothers Bloom, for all its lack of originality and unnecessary minor confusions, is highly entertaining, and often quite magical. Almost every single shot in this movie is worthy of artistic admiration equal to that of any painting in the Met. Part of this is due to the beautiful exterior and interior locations, which are uniformly a joy to look at. Yet two of the actors also deserve credit for the film's wonderful visuals. As the brothers' sidekick, Rinko Kinkuchi expresses a subtle yet undeniable erotic undertone with every expression, while still conveying a range worthy of a silent film actor. Adrien Brody's slighty Munchesque face, accompanied by a body language that balances the contradictory notions of grace and gangliness, is even more expressive. There is a moment when Bloom looks at an apple cart that is worthy of Rene Magritte at his finest.
All of this is accompanied by a delightfully old-fashioned score by Nathan Johnson, who claims to have been equally inspired by orchestral composer Nino Rota and rock group The Band. If you think about it, you can detect the influences of both, but I advise you not to think about it and just accept the score for what it is, a musical enhancement of the story's timelessness. Visually, there is very little evidence to pin this film down to any specific time period, and one can easily imagine the film taking place in the 50s or 20s with almost no changes whatsoever (with Rachel Weisz's modern-day cars the only real clue to a contemporary setting).
More than anything, there is a refreshing innocence to the film. While the subject matter may be that of a David Mamet script, the dialogue certainly isn't; it lacks the cynicism and foul language that Mamet and his imitators (both good and bad) revel in. These characters, for all their surface dishonesty, care about each other. Even Steven's Philosophy of the Con depends on making sure that each mark walks away happy. Yes, they have been conned of their money, but in their happy oblivion, they feel themselves to be better off for it.
I highly recommend The Brothers Bloom. You'll never mistake it for a great film. But sometimes "very good" is enough.
posted by Movie Man at
6:57 AM
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