I am sure any film buff can tell stories about their fascination with actors. Or maybe about a particular film character with whom they've felt connected. One of the most powerful experiences of my movie-going life must have been a recent time when I was completely convinced I had "fallen in love" with a character in a film - not the actor playing the character - but the character itself - a person who existed nowhere but on the screen. I must have returned to that film eleven or twelve times, in the course of a limited, one-week run just to observe this "person" over and over, larger-than-life, completely limited by existence only in this film and my imagination. I remember vainly attempting to explain this to a friend, who continually stated, "It's not real. It's a character. Not even an actor. A character." But I paid no mind. I was convinced that this character was at least as real and complex as some people I knew in "real" life. Then the film closed; I felt deflated. Weeks later, I drove a hundred miles to a neighboring city when the film re-opened, and sat through two consecutive viewings. What was this fascination I had with this celluloid creature? How irrational was it? Or was it perfectly normal? During Andrew Niccol's hilarious and poignant new Hollywood satire Simone, I was reminded of this feeling anew - the often-galvanic power of actors, characters, media and the myth of "celebrity."
When we first meet down-on-his-luck, fading Hollywood director Viktor Taransky, he's engaged in a heated studio-backlot discussion with a prima-donna actress (a surprisingly sharp Winona Ryder) on the verge of exiting his latest picture. Exit she does, and then things really begin to fall apart. Fired by his ex-wife and studio chief Elaine (Catherine Keener, again pitch-black), Victor's on a down slope of certain velocity. When it doesn't seem that things can get any worse, aided by a rabid fan and computer genius (a manic Elias Koteas), Viktor creates a new star - S1M0NE - or "Simone," a completely digital creation. So absolutely convincing is Simone that she becomes the leading lady in his next two pictures - as well as a singer, philanthropist, director and perfume spokeswoman -and in the process wins the hearts and minds of a global audience. The world becomes enchanted with an amazing new star - and what they don't know, won't hurt them, right? If people believe she's real, then maybe she really is.
Along the way, we're treated to an exceptionally savvy industry insider's view of Hollywood:
"We've learned to manufacture fraud so well, we can't detect what's real anymore."
"I haven't read your new script, but it's fantastic!"
"I relate better to people when they're not here."
"I've stabbed people in the back, clawed my way up, slept my way to the top. But it goes with the territory."
Comic madness and witty industry satire ensue as Viktor struggles to keep Simone's secret a secret, while her ever-increasing popularity and public adulation threaten to eclipse his own. How this beautiful mess is resolved is poignant and filled with truth about star worship, the slim differences between what's "real" and what's fraudulent, and the fragility of the human ego.
The film is loaded with inspired comic scenes and sequences: Keener and Pacino running down a check-list of Simone's needs for her next film ("She doesn't need a stunt double. She drives herself. She does her own hair and make-up."); Simone's "appearance" in a hotel window and subsequent performance at a rock concert; Pacino manipulating Simone's responses during her first on-camera interview; tabloid reporter Pruitt Taylor Vince "examining" Simone's hotel room; Simone's stand-in attempting to seduce Pacino; a mannequin driving a car and talking on a cell phone. There are many laughs in this picture, and they're warm, knowing ones - not pratfall, hi-jinks or sexual shenanigans that have permeated this and most summer movie going seasons.
Al Pacino gives one of his best performances - I've always liked his light comic touch ("Frankie and Johnnie") at least as well as his bellowing, dramatic gesturing. Catherine Keener initially seems to be doing yet another variation on her cynical but always enjoyable modern career woman. But as the film deepens, she reveals delicacies of character that are pleasing and human. Jay Mohr and Winona Ryder are appropriately vapid and razor-sharp funny as a pair of self-serving Hollywood stars.
But what of Simone herself? Director Andrew Niccol has fashioned quite an enigma. Just as no one in his film wants to believe she doesn't exist, such was the sentiment expressed by the audience at the preview screening I attended. Many questioned who the enchanting actress was - before realizing they had just seen a completely digital and computer manufactured performer. To Niccol, it hardly seems to make a difference. His post-screening discussion forum was fascinating - to him, most actors today have digital alterations done to their appearance anyway, so what's the difference, really? One thing is for sure - she's a stunning creation. She certainly appears flesh and blood. She's beautiful, warm, friendly and talented. What more is there?
As in his previous film "Gattaca,"` Niccol again proves himself a dazzling visual stylist. The stunning, ornate studio lot sets, interiors, and landscapes are beautifully created and lit. He employs great depth of field with his deep focus attention to details in the front and rear of the frame. For my money, this is the best-looking film of the year, edging out Conrad Hall's much-praised cinematography for "The Road to Perdition." I spoke with Niccol after the film about his strategies for production design and lighting, referencing British filmmaker Peter Greenaway's classical painting training and use of Vermeer-style lighting. Niccol's comment to me was, "It's so sad that today, so many films haven't got memorable visuals. There are no shots that you look at and think you'd like to frame and hang on your wall." His attention to art direction, production design and lighting produces one eye-popping image after the next, and the result is just ravishing.
And finally, I was able to share with him why I think his films are such a success. He understands that there cannot be technology; there cannot be high-concept; there cannot be special effects and computer generated images - in the absence of humanity. I felt this in "Gattaca" to be certain, and I felt it again in "The Truman Show" (he wrote the screenplay). And in "Simone," during a pivotal scene near the end of the film, between the creator and the created, a surprising poignancy emerges. Some of it can be attributed to Pacino. But strangely, some comes from Simone herself. Though her eyes are most certainly not real, they seem to hold genuine warmth and sadness. The thought of them being extinguished leaves one with a lump in their throat. Ditto this film.
DVD