28043722
The highlight of director Clint Eastwood’s biopic-meets-sports flick "Invictus" is its ending, a rousing re-creation of South Africa’s against-all-odds victory over New Zealand at the 1995 Rugby World Cup. It’s one of the year’s more emotional cinematic moments, boosted by a strong sense of the history, hopes, hardships and cultural struggles of an entire nation.
That’s what works in this conceptually sharp, but developmentally languid, movie: It clearly communicates just how much was riding on that win and how the wise and benevolent Nelson Mandela (Morgan Freeman) inspired Team Capt. Francois Pienaar (Matt Damon) to lead his men to glory, helping to unify the post-apartheid country.
What surely does not work are the mechanics of Anthony Peckham’s unbelievably literal-minded script, which walks you through every plot development, fact, feeling and timeframe with condescending dialogue and deliberate inspirational one-liners that never quite stick. Once the final game arrived, I’d already been listening to roughly two hours of play-by-play.
With what little dramatic opportunities they’re afforded ("Invictus" plays it nearly as safe as the dreadful "Amelia"), Freeman and Damon give competent performances, but not the Oscar-worthy work indicated by the early buzz.
Part of the blame falls on Eastwood, whose famous lickety-split directing style has finally gotten the better of him, resulting in second-rate takes and a lot of poor performances from a sea of supporting players. He also allows for the inclusion of at least one radically unnecessary pop song, the tastelessness of which is staggering considering Eastwood’s stature as a filmmaker.
With these faults, it’s hard to appreciate the superior work of Eastwood regulars like cinematographer Tom Stern and costume designer Deborah Hopper. Even harder is accepting the fact "Invictus" is one of 2009’s biggest letdowns.
Invictus
PG-13
Two reels out of four
In area theaters tomorrow
Inglourious Basterds
R
Available Tuesday
I didn’t realize how much I missed Quentin Tarantino until I reveled in the delicious dialogue and wild mayhem of "Inglourious Basterds," a twisted piece of revisionist history that showcases and thrives on its maker’s mad love of movies.
A series of enticing conversations punctuated by exciting bursts of action and humor, "Basterds" is chic, sensationalist art carefully crafted by a true master. Not to mention it features an unforgettable performance by Austrian actor Christoph Waltz as the villainous Col. Hans Landa.
