I don't know the first thing about David Mamet or his other work. However, I will say that this movie adaptation of his play Edmond sure -felt- like a play. A bad one. There's a lot of speaking but no actual dialogue or screenplay -- just a whole lot of nauseating, overwrought existential musing. There's no plot, only a series of totally unbelievable events engineered to force the theme of destiny down our already gagging throats.
The play that this movie is based off of seems to be some kind of awkward twist on the Oedipus tale. Edmond is doomed to an unknown fate he avoids only on subconscious levels. The problem is, while Oedipus is a real character with real feelings, Edmond is a forced construct. The movie gives us no story, no relationships, only Edmond, and he isn't even a real man! He doesn't develop in any understandable way. Throughout the movie, he cycles exclusively between four vagaries of thought: horniness, generalized people-angst, generalized rage, and wordy revelations on existence.
Edmond is a difficult character to identify with, to say the least. His pseudo-tragic heroic story doesn't speak to me because frankly, I can't understand him at all. What in the hell does he want? First he's out cruising for prostitutes, then he beats up a black man, then he picks up and kills a girl, then he's ready to testify at a black community church? When pressed for explanations, Edmond stammers out a clumsy anti-religious rant and follows it up with, you guessed it, more ramblings on people and the courses that life can take. Please, Mamet, give me something, anything to explain just what is going on in this man's head. Anything more than these random displays of empty emotion that are impossible to identify with and that show me nothing about Edmond, myself, or the world. He's angry because people won't listen? Could it be that he's NOT SAYING ANYTHING?? Edmond does happen upon a mild insight late in the game, that fear might be another form of desire. But yet again his diatribe is so cluttered with randomness that I fail to see the point. What does he mean, he finally feels "safe" in prison? His character seems to change completely at every given moment, defying all logic and all attempts to understand him. His interactions with others are confrontational at wildly varying intensities with seemingly little impetus. His drives and impulses are so arbitrary that by the movie's end, I'm not inclined to believe a thing he says. I can't sympathize with Edmond's story or learn anything from it when he is so clearly detached from normal humanity, and when there isn't even a decent story to latch onto.
William H. Macy seemed to be doing the he best could with the "character" he was given to perform. His effort to create Edmond didn't make up for Mamet's lack, but I suppose it does earn the film an extra star, especially for Macy fans. He even manages to give Edmond some life during an amusingly uncomfortable striptease scene. Or maybe I only enjoyed it for the boobies.
Had there at least been a plot behind Edmond's journey, this play-movie might have been moderately interesting. As it is, the movie is a baffling, incoherent disaster. There is no focus, no real climax, no suspense and practically no resolution. There is tension, but mostly of the "When is this going to go somewhere?!!" kind. I don't even understand what the main conflict was. The worst part is, Mamet attempts to make a theme out of this absolute nothingness. The destiny idea is deployed with a strange and distasteful dichotomy of heavy-handedness and haphazard ambiguity. From what I can see, Edmond could not have possibly learned anything from his incongruous experiences, except maybe not to be so freaking impulsive. Yet Mamet attempts vainly, through Edmond's incomprehensible outbursts and meaningless exchanges, to convince us that Edmond has learned a great deal. Mamet does a lot of telling, but no showing, and ends up saying nothing at all.
The play that this movie is based off of seems to be some kind of awkward twist on the Oedipus tale. Edmond is doomed to an unknown fate he avoids only on subconscious levels. The problem is, while Oedipus is a real character with real feelings, Edmond is a forced construct. The movie gives us no story, no relationships, only Edmond, and he isn't even a real man! He doesn't develop in any understandable way. Throughout the movie, he cycles exclusively between four vagaries of thought: horniness, generalized people-angst, generalized rage, and wordy revelations on existence.
Edmond is a difficult character to identify with, to say the least. His pseudo-tragic heroic story doesn't speak to me because frankly, I can't understand him at all. What in the hell does he want? First he's out cruising for prostitutes, then he beats up a black man, then he picks up and kills a girl, then he's ready to testify at a black community church? When pressed for explanations, Edmond stammers out a clumsy anti-religious rant and follows it up with, you guessed it, more ramblings on people and the courses that life can take. Please, Mamet, give me something, anything to explain just what is going on in this man's head. Anything more than these random displays of empty emotion that are impossible to identify with and that show me nothing about Edmond, myself, or the world. He's angry because people won't listen? Could it be that he's NOT SAYING ANYTHING?? Edmond does happen upon a mild insight late in the game, that fear might be another form of desire. But yet again his diatribe is so cluttered with randomness that I fail to see the point. What does he mean, he finally feels "safe" in prison? His character seems to change completely at every given moment, defying all logic and all attempts to understand him. His interactions with others are confrontational at wildly varying intensities with seemingly little impetus. His drives and impulses are so arbitrary that by the movie's end, I'm not inclined to believe a thing he says. I can't sympathize with Edmond's story or learn anything from it when he is so clearly detached from normal humanity, and when there isn't even a decent story to latch onto.
William H. Macy seemed to be doing the he best could with the "character" he was given to perform. His effort to create Edmond didn't make up for Mamet's lack, but I suppose it does earn the film an extra star, especially for Macy fans. He even manages to give Edmond some life during an amusingly uncomfortable striptease scene. Or maybe I only enjoyed it for the boobies.
Had there at least been a plot behind Edmond's journey, this play-movie might have been moderately interesting. As it is, the movie is a baffling, incoherent disaster. There is no focus, no real climax, no suspense and practically no resolution. There is tension, but mostly of the "When is this going to go somewhere?!!" kind. I don't even understand what the main conflict was. The worst part is, Mamet attempts to make a theme out of this absolute nothingness. The destiny idea is deployed with a strange and distasteful dichotomy of heavy-handedness and haphazard ambiguity. From what I can see, Edmond could not have possibly learned anything from his incongruous experiences, except maybe not to be so freaking impulsive. Yet Mamet attempts vainly, through Edmond's incomprehensible outbursts and meaningless exchanges, to convince us that Edmond has learned a great deal. Mamet does a lot of telling, but no showing, and ends up saying nothing at all.