Runtime: 1 hour, 57 minutes
Rating: R
Director: Ridley Scott
Quick Impressions:
When we left the theater, my husband remarked, “I think the most important thing I learned from that movie is that I’m not sure I want to see Blade Runner 2.”
Clearly Ridley Scott has reached a stage in his career where he cares less about pleasing a crowd than about exploring issues that fascinate him. Of course, it’s not every day that you get a chance to direct a screenplay written by Cormac McCarthy.
The Counselor could have been titled Not Everyman. (You should widen your eyes and kind of shrug as you say “every” to convey that this moral dilemma is a bit specific.) It feels very much like a present day take on the medieval morality play, except that it’s set in a slightly askew alternate reality where everybody is extremely weird, especially Cameron Diaz.
I’m being a bit glib, but I’m not actually joking. Seriously, this is a morality play. You can tell because the main character is simply called Counselor roughly one hundred percent of the time. (But—get ready for some irony—people keep giving him advice!) Meanwhile he crosses paths with a woman named Maleficent who keeps pet leopards, has a gold tooth and a full body predatory cat tattoo, and sends devout men of God running in the opposite direction. Okay, her name is actually Malkina, but she’s dating some guy who’s obsessed with Greed (and butterfly shirts). All the basic components of a morality play are there.
The one unfortunate thing that McCarthy and the others have forgotten is that morality plays are extremely boring and nobody likes them. (I’m just kidding. Plenty of people love them, but I’ll bet those people don’t spend too much of their time and money at the movie theater.)
This movie is going to have a really hard time finding an audience. The Counselor is not bad, but it doesn’t really work as a movie. All of the best and most profound parts of the film—the stuff that you really want to take home with you—come in the form of philosophical monologues delivered by minor characters. In my opinion, this would all work better on paper. There’s definitely brilliance in The Counselor, but it’s ultimately not a very satisfying movie. It really shouldn’t be a movie. I’d be interested in reading the screenplay, and—admittedly this is just a guess—I think this work will have the most long term success as a written screenplay, as literature (especially because it was written by Cormac McCarthy). The screenplay will probably be studied at length, but the movie may be forgotten by Thanksgiving (except that scene with Cameron Diaz and the car. That’s going to have a very long pop culture life).
The Good:
This movie has several strong points. One of them is cinematography. Practically every other shot seems loaded with intense symbolic meaning. If you wanted to re-watch this movie several times in order to write some type of visual analysis, you certainly wouldn’t be wasting your time.
I also found the costuming quite delightful—almost distracting. And this is coming from a person who almost never notices what people are wearing. (I select all my clothes primarily based on two things 1) Comfort and 2) What happy place/event they remind me of.)
But how can anybody fail to notice Javier Bardem’s wonderful silky butterfly blouse? And once you notice that, it’s hard not to pay attention to his pink tinted glasses and crazy, flowing hair. Then I noticed how different Michael Fassbender’s clothes were in the same scene, and how they reflected his personality so perfectly. Based largely on Cameron Diaz’s look, I’m guessing that the rich visual symbolism the film is cultivating isn’t just limited to landscaping and furniture. In this movie, what people wear matters, and it’s also very diverting for the eye.
In terms of the ideas it conveys, the screenplay is also quite good (if a trifle heavy handed and obsessed with decisions and their consequences and sinister foreshadowing/echoing callbacks.) Unfortunately, it’s all a little too good. (Sometimes, it seems like various cast members are self-consciously reading aloud from a short story, like they’re high schoolers performing Shakespeare or—an even more apt comparison—making a movie to get extra credit in their English class.)
Brad Pitt sort of makes this work. His line readings and mannerisms seem very affected. It’s like he’s some hard-boiled character in a classic film noir. But because Brad Pitt is a cool guy who makes the “cool tough guy” character at least compelling if not natural or sincere, this artificiality looks okay on him.
Cameron Diaz has less luck. I heard some early Best Supporting Actress buzz for her earlier this year, but after seeing the movie, I just don’t know. (Well I do know, actually. It will never happen because the category is too competitive this year, and the movie is not doing well.) Diaz makes some unusual choices. The best choice is taking this role in the first place. The part is good. I can see why any actress would kill to play it, especially somebody like Diaz who usually plays a more sympathetic character (or at least a less calculating one. When Diaz misbehaves on screen, it’s usually out of laziness, emotional problems, or desperation). This is a really good part for her, but ultimately, her performance just doesn’t work for me.
Penélope Cruz, on the other hand, is fantastic, and delivers what is easily the most natural, believable (not to mention likable) performance in the film. She seems like she’s in the moment, naturally reacting to what’s occurring around her, whereas Diaz seems like the whole time she’s sitting there thinking in glee, “Yes! I’m playing a huge sociopathic weirdo with an awesome part, and I’m nailing it!”
But to be fair, the contrast between the natural performance of Cruz and the affectations of Diaz may be intentional. It is quite possible that the movie wants us to notice this. The more a character is mired in worldly vices, the less natural and more contrived his or her behavior becomes. In fact, given the caliber of the director and screenwriter, I’m almost certain that this distinction is deliberately made. Probably Cameron Diaz is delivering precisely the performance Scott is asking her for. And, admittedly, she is very captivating and memorable as the character. Malkina is going to remain a talking point on her filmography for years, I’m sure. To me, though, the performance (while entertaining) is not particularly Oscar worthy. (But I suppose it’s not impossible that she could get a nomination. Academy members don’t call me up begging for my opinion before they vote, so you never know. (I liked her much better in Vanilla Sky, and I thought Penélope Cruz gave the superior performance in that movie, too. Of course, I hated that movie, so my opinion really should not be valid.)
If I had to nominate anyone from The Counselor, I’d pick Penélope Cruz based on the strength of her performance. (But she always gives strong performances, and her part is pretty small here.) Javier Bardem is extremely compelling and fun to watch, too, but I don’t expect a nomination for him, either. (It is funny, though, to imagine the two of them showing a clip from this movie at their kids’ elementary school on Career Day. I know that would never happen, but can’t you just imagine the baffled reactions of all the stunned kids in the class?)
Now Michael Fassbender is interesting because he’s also in Twelve Years a Slave which will likely be a big Oscar contender. Best Actor is way too crowded for him to get a nomination for this, but he pulls off a very impressive display of grief/horror/despair/regret/guilt/torment in the big DVD scene, so potentially his strong leading performance here may help him to win a supporting Oscar for Twelve Years a Slave. Time will tell.
What really impressed me about the cast of The Counselor is that it just keeps coming. (And I’m not talking about the car scene.) A lot of people turn up in this film (some of them very late). There’s Rosie Perez, John Leguizamo, Natalie Dormer, Goran Visnjic. I really never thought I’d see Rosie Perez giving one of the most natural, understated performances in any film, but she’s stunningly good here. And I was delighted by John Leguizamo. He has a very watchable moment.
Best Scene:
The one scene from this film that everybody is going to remember and talk about forever is that thing with Cameron Diaz and the car. What does it mean? (I have some ideas, but they’re not important right now.) What matters is that this is something Javier Bardem’s character can never forget, and we’re never going to forget it either. Movies can impress an audience in two ways. One is by being memorably excellent. The other is by being memorably strange. Even the most jaded audience in the entire world has never seen anything quite like this. Bardem is actually the one who makes the scene so much fun (if that’s the right word) to watch because of his hilarious/ horrifying narration. (Sometimes I found myself wondering if Bardem was involved in a real life deal that went bad, and as punishment, he was forced to make this movie.) (I’m just kidding. If Ridley Scott had asked me to be in a movie written by Cormac McCarthy, I would have signed on in an instant.)
Best Scene Visually:
It’s hard to single out just one scene here. Obviously, I’ve made it clear that I’m obsessed with Javier Bardem’s butterfly shirt, but there’s a lot more to love in the movie than that. What really gets me is Michael Fassbender’s house. We get all these shots of the gritty reality of El Paso and Ciudad Juarez, and then we see Michael Fassbender drinking wine or whisking some culinary delight in his sterile white house that looks like where his android character from Prometheus would live. (On his own time, he’s always either lounging in bed, whisking, or drinking—unless he’s out at a luxurious restaurant or watching a rousing game of polo.) I guess what I’m getting at here is that I like the way each character, area, and theme of the film is so visually distinct and well defined. And I like Javier Bardem’s butterfly shirt.
If I must choose one scene that really worked for me, it was the body being pushed into the landfill. I also thought it was extremely heavy handed, but it’s stuck with me.
Best Action Sequence:
Brad Pitt’s final scene is one we see coming from a mile away, but that’s part of the fun. (Fun isn’t exactly the right word, but we’ve been set up for this from the very beginning. We’ve been expecting it for some time.)
I also like the scene where the truck is retouched and repaired.
Best Thing About the Movie:
There are three great moments in this film. One is the conversation with the diamond cutter, and his speech about a cynical industry where things are defined solely through their imperfections. Another great speech comes near the end of the movie when the Counselor learns that he must now live with the consequences of his actions. Also enjoyable is the bit with John Leguizamo and the guy in the drum. All of these moments are little mini philosophical discourses that the film gives us as food for thought, and they’re very well written speeches (though the fact that they’re always given to minor characters is not the most conventional choice for a wide release movie).
The Negatives:
Several moments in this movie are so odd that it’s hard not to want to burst into (tonally inappropriate) laughter.
As I’ve been saying this whole time, as literature, The Counselor is very intriguing. As a movie, it’s pretty weird, and not likely to please…well, anyone (except maybe Cormac McCarthy. It must be fun to imagine a character, then say, “And I’d like him to be played by Javier Bardem on the big screen.”) It’s that odd film where the script is exceptional, the cast is top-notch, the production values are high, and the director is talented, but still the overall results are kind of a cinematic disaster. The Counselor is just not a very good movie. It doesn’t seem well suited to being a movie. That’s the main problem.
What movie gives all the best parts to minor characters with no stake in the central conflict? (Actually, there’s an answer for that I now realize. It’s—a romantic comedy. This kind of wise speech making happens all the time in romantic comedies. The couple in question is just about to break up forever over some really dumb thing, but then a well-timed, unexpected speech from Wise Uncle Salvador—or whoever—makes the protagonist have an epiphany about the meaning of true love and totally saves the day.)
The difference is that here, by the time Fassbender’s character has the epiphany, it’s totally too late for him to save the day. As we might expect from Cormac McCarthy, the message of the film is a bit bleak and depressing. (The one positive glimmer of hope for me was that at least one of the characters went to mass regularly and believed in the healing power of Reconciliation.) But if there’s anything to be hopeful about here, you’re going to have to bring it with you along with your own belief in an afterlife because (as the movie makes patently clear) life here on earth is horrible and meaningless.
(Okay, that’s a stupid reduction/misreading of the point, but my point is, this movie is extremely bleak and depressing—if you even understand what’s happening at the end. On the one hand, it seems impossible that anybody wouldn’t, but on the other hand, there was a woman in The Gravity audience with me who seemed baffled about several major plot points, so I’m sure this movie would lose her (and probably others).)
The other huge problem is that we’re not really invested in any of the characters. Like I said, all the best and most meaningful lines are delivered by minor characters. The only character at the center of the story who gets really amazing stuff to say is Cameron Diaz, and she delivers those lines like she’s reading them out of a story in a literature anthology.
By the end, Michael Fassbender has a pretty epic total breakdown, but—not to be rude but—who cares? (We probably all should care because this could happen to anyone—except that it couldn’t. The whole dilemma is so incredibly avoidable and oddly specific.) I wish we knew something more about the counselor before he got involved in all this in the first place.
And—this is just a minor thing—that scene where Rosie Perez wakes up with a start of sudden shock and feels at a photograph on her wall is really just too heavy handed to the point of being ridiculous. (The corpse dump scene is like that, too, although it’s also probably true that if these extremely pointed scenes weren’t there, some audience members might not understand important connections/what was happening.)
Overall:
I enjoyed watching The Counselor but it’s not very effective as a movie. I have a feeling the screenplay might make a captivating read and a worthy object of study as a piece of literature, but as a movie, the whole thing just feels strange, depressing, and oddly inadequate given the copious talent involved.
Still it will undoubtedly be remembered for one bizarre scene involving Cameron Diaz and Javier Bardem’s car.
If you’re looking for something different, The Counselor definitely is that. Michael Fassbender, Penélope Cruz, and Javier Bardem give strong, compelling performances, and Cameron Diaz is unforgettable. But in a season absolutely loaded with exciting, potentially award-winning movies, it’s probably safe to skip this one unless you’re a huge fan of Cormac McCarthy and want to consume absolutely everything he’s ever produced.