By: debbie lynn elias
Within a day or two after screening SOUTHLAND TALES, localite Richard Kelly’s “love story to Los Angeles” and particularly Venice and Santa Monica, as is customary, one of the film’s publicists contacted me for my initial thoughts on the film. I say to you now what I said to him then, “This is the most bizarre convoluted film I have ever seen and I absolutely ****ing love it.”
Set in the year 2008, it is, the end of the world as we know it. Presidential elections are in full force with a Clinton-Lieberman ticket versus that of Frost-Allen. Passports and VISAS are required to cross the border from State to State. Texas has been nuked. Homeland Security has become privatized to Orwellean proportion. Eyes and ears are everywhere. Internet and satellite transmissions complete with multiplex in-your-face advertising and subliminal messaging spin with such dizzying force so as to make ones’ brain want to implode. Neo-Marxist revolutionists are wrecking havoc all over the country and particularly in Venice and the Santa Monica pier. (Luckily they leave the beautiful restored carousel intact.) Thanks to global warring, the US is at odds with the entire world. And thanks to global warming, the US faces an energy crisis of cataclysmic proportion. But the answer to our prayers lies in the great Baron Von Westphalen.
Ubber genius and obvious decedent of the Third Reich, the Baron has found a solution to the energy crisis – “fluid karma” – an ingenious harnessing of the ocean tides (and perhaps a psychotropic drug)? He controls the only machine to process this fluid energy and of course, he also dabbles in a few other things like mind control, drug induced hypnosis tried and tested on our men and women in arms, time travel, a bit of cloning and of course, topping it all off with a July 4 celebration aboard a hi-tech Hindenberg. And did I mention his sensually slithering sidekick, Serpentine,…and his mommy?
On a more personal note, world famous action star Boxer Santaros, married to the daughter of presidential hopeful Senator Frost, is missing. Well, not really missing. He’s floating around on the Santa Monica beach with no memory. Enter one, Krysta Kapowski (as in possibly the evil twin of “Saved By The Bell” goody-two-shoes character Kelly Kapowski) aka Krysta; Krysta “Now”. Former porn star and merchandising maven, Krysta “Now” looks to reality tv and product placement as her future in these dismal and abysmal times. Oh yeah, and she falls hard, real hard, for the hard bodied amnesiac and is also willing to sell her soul for “the cause” and keep Santaros “missing.” Buffoonish and Bush-like Senator Frost is at odds dealing with his rather upset little girl whose actor husband is missing while at the same time worrying about putting two words together to form a sentence, control his surveillance-hungry “Big Brother” clone of a wife, Nana Mae Frost, and try and get himself elected to the White House (yes, there is still a White House, although there won’t be a Texas White House since the place was nuked) while libeling and slandering the opposing candidates. You know, that whole walk and chew gum at the same time thing. (Wait, did I say this was the year 2008?) But wait, there’s also Ronald and Roland Taverner; one an officer of the law and one an actor involved with the Neo-Marxist terrorists and the media savvy Cyndi Pinziki who knows a story when she smells one.
Did I mention the entire story is being told through the eyes of Iraq war vet, Private Abilene who since his return stateside has become a hero to the masses, albeit slightly psychologically twisted? And dare we ask what twisted him?
This is without a doubt the freshest, most inventive and creative casting I have seen in many a year. Casting against type, and taking every actor out of their comfort zone, the eclectic blend of talent is in and of itself reason enough to see this film. “Pizzazz” is the word that immediately pops into mind with this group. Dwayne Johnson (aka The Rock) continues with his carefully cultivated career in film with a fun quirky portrayal of Boxer Santaros. Johnson has a great gift for comedy and eloquently walks the fine line between camp and fun to much aplomb. Adding his own little tells to give Santaros a more defined, bizarre persona, he is wonderful. And whoa!! What about one of my heroines, Sarah Michelle Gellar? Going completely against her strong willed “Buffy” persona, Gellar hits one out of the park as porn/reality star Krysta, Krysta “Now.” An absolute knockout, she proves that those lilting tones she sang in the Emmy nominated “Buffy” episode “Once More With Feeling” weren’t a one shot deal as she slinks and shimmies her way through a spoofy music video where Krysta product placement abounds.
Relying heavily on Saturday Night Live alums like the phenomenal Nora Dunn, Cheri Oteri, Jon Lovitz and Amy Poehler, wry witty sarcasm reigns supreme with dead pan, right-on delivery and pratfalls and stunts harkening back to comedy’s hey day. Shooting his scenes in just one day, including an over the top Busby Berkleyesque music video in an arcade on the Santa Monic Pier, Justin Timberlake is almost unrecognizable as Private Pilot Abilene. Over-the-top and slightly manic, he serves as the film’s narrator with unparalleled passion.
And who would have envisioned Miranda Richardson in this production? Certainly not I, but as Nana Mae Frost she is campy commanding bitchiness personified. Delicious. Holmes Osborne steps in as Senator and presidential candidate Bobby Frost giving us an all too real performance as a wannabe “commander-in-chief.” (And I use that term loosely.) Mandy Moore is the ideal spoiled brat of a politician/wife of a movie star with amnesia having an affair with a porn princess. But it is John Laroquette as senatorial aide Vaughn Smallhouse that had me rolling with laughter with what is essentially a 21st Century bumbling Dan Fielding.
The real scene stealers, however, are Bai Ling and Wallace Shawn. As the sultry Serpentine, Ling brings an exotic and erotic divinely decadent elegance to the entire production in direct counter balance to the oddball egomaniacal megalomaniacal Baron as played by Shawn. Top this off with the likes of Curtis Armstrong, Zelda Rubenstein and Chris Lambert and there is something for everyone.
Just back from Sundance after “Donnie Darko” and with no distribution deal in place, Richard Kelly got the inspired idea to write “this big LA comedy that ends with rioting and the Hindenberg. The movie star and the cop with a twin brother who is an actor, and a porn star and an acting troupe that wanted to humiliate the actor. After 9/11, I’ve got this apocalyptic comedy and now the apocalypse is arguable happening now. Maybe this can be a comedy, like a tonic.” And a cure- all tonic SOUTHLAND TALES surely is. With riveting intensity, his multi-dimensional faceted script heralds unspoken and spoken volumes of political and socio-economic commentary. Written as chapters 4, 5 and 6 to compliment and continue Kelly’s graphic novel containing chapters 1 through 3, which is in bookstores now, the multiple plots keep moving and, although one must pay attention, they all come together in one incredibly visually stunning apocalyptic moment.
Known for his innovative style of directing, Kelly didn’t let a near fatal showing at Cannes deter him from this project. His interactive multimedia stylings, caught the eye of some Sony execs who in turn handed Kelly $1 million and five months of additional time to edit and enhance the film by way of additional visual effects sequence compliments of visual effects supervisor Tom Tannenberger. Lensing for one month in Santa Monica and Venice, Kelly incorporates the eclectic artistry and recognizability of the community with visual composition that begs your eyes to the screen. Even during some of the most convoluted plot points, I found it impossible to look away, just waiting and wondering what Kelly was going to his me with next. And when it comes to the ending – hold on to your hats.
The icing on the cake is a killer soundtrack by Moby.
Although Richard Kelly denied to me that he actually wrote this screenplay in Hinano’s Bar down on Washington Boulevard, he does admit to celebrating its conceptualization and writing there. One thing is for certain, if the apocalypse is upon us, I only hope it is with the vibrancy, energy and comedic edge of SOUTHLAND TALES. Fasten your seat belts and put up your tray tables. You’re in for the ride to end all rides.
Boxer Santaros – Dwayne Johnson
Roland Taverner/Ronald Taverner – Sean William Scott
Krysta Kapowski/Krysta Now – Sarah Michelle Gellar
Private Pilot Abilene – Justin Timberlake
Baron Von Westphalen – Wallace Shawn
Serpentine – Bai Ling
Written and directed by Richard Kelly. Rated R. (139 min)
