Don't Lie to Me

Once again, I find myself catching up on movies on airplanes; not the best place, I admit, but things are better than they used to be. On Lufhansa and other airlines these days, the technology now permits the passenger to not only select one of several films (as often as 9 or 10 different choices), but with some programs, you can actually rewind or fast forward the film at very fast speeds, allowing you to watch a scene again and again. So while I’m not exactly getting widescreen visuals, it is a great way for me to take notes on the films and if I miss something, I can go back over it again.

This most recent trip afforded me the opportunity to watch Up In The Air and The Invention of Lying and while these films have little in common, the subject of lying is the one that appealed to me. I had heard so many good things about “Air” and I certainly think that director and co-writer Jason Reitman (Sheldon Turner was the other writer) deliver with a film that is spot on about a troubling aspect of the current business mode – that of laying people off. The film is at its best when it discusses that subject in a straightforward manner and George Clooney as Ryan Bingham, the man who has to deliver the bad news to too many people, is remarkably efficient in his role, not only in his vocal delivery, but also in his facial expressions. He’s got this thing down and he’s careful not to get caught up in peoples’ woes. I can’t help but think that Clooney was selected for this film, not only for his considerable talents as an actor (and he truly nails this performance), but he IS the actor – and star - of the day, so life imitates art, in an unusual way.

There are so many perceptive moments in the screenplay and there is one scene in particular where Reitman and Turner have Bingham artfully shift one man’s sorrow into a vision to his unfound dreams. Having just fired an employee face to face (the need to do this one-on-one rather than over the internet is a critical point of this film), Bingham listens to the man complain about how he will not be able to pay for everything from the mortgage on his home to medicine necessary for his daughter’s condition. He then reminds the man that he has a culinary degree and that now, despite the immediate gloom that he sees, his new life – that of pursuing his real love of French cooking – can start. The anger this man feels over the loss of his job slowly turns to a glimmer of hope, thanks to Binghman’s composure in a stressful moment. It’s one of the most beautifully written scenes for me in years and it’s also marvelously directed and edited (Dana Glauberman was the editor).


The film also works with the character of Natalie Keener, energetically played by Anna Kendrick. She is the one who wants to use the internet to coldly fire people and it’s Binghman who takes her under his wing to show her how ridiculous this decision truly is. I like the way that her character is at first put off by Bingham, then slowly sees the genius of his work and is so won over by him that she empties her soul, letting him know that her boyfriend has broken up with her. It’s a nice shift and I must credit Kendrick with fleshing out her character so marvelously, as this role in lesser hands might have come across merely as a bitchy young female executive trying to make it in the real world. There are things not to like about her character, but deep down, she’s just someone looking for security and Kendrick finds that in her character, while maintaining a nice edge throughout.

As for the other female in Bingham’s life, Alex Goran (played with great charm by Vera Farmiga), their relationship is all about flirting. They text suggestive messages and we’re led to believe that they sleep together, although we never see them actually do so. Alex is the fire in Ryan’s life, while Natalie is the stability. It’s nice the way the screenplay introduces them as two very disparate parts of Bingham’s life and then slowly enmeshes all three together in their daily business routine.



It’s the relationship between Ryan and Alex that eventually brings this movie to its most surprising twist. I won’t give it away, but it comes as a shock to the viewer and to me that shock is shock for its’ own sake. She has been lying to him about her life and as soon as I saw her real situation revealed, I couldn’t believe that she would have never told him the truth during all their time together. When she speaks with Ryan on the phone after he learns her secret, she calls him a “parenthesis” in her life. For some, this line may be a key to her character, but I thought this line was a bit over the top, more cruel than what the situation called for.

The lie that Alex leads means that the wedding sequence in which Ryan and she attend is a poorly devised plot device to make the ensuing surprise even more of a stunner. On its own, the wedding of Ryan’s sister is the least interesting sequence on the movie; after we learn Alex’s surprise, we feel cheated and realize the wedding was totally unnecessary. We’re supposed to see Ryan in this situation so that the light bulb goes on in his head and he can finally realize that he should commit to a woman and a more stable lifestyle. But this is cornball, Psych 101 stuff and it is clearly below the excellence of the rest of the story and screenplay.

By lying to us both figuratively and literally, the screenwriters keep “Air” from being an even better film than it could have been.


As for The Invention of Lying, the title cleverly takes us to a world where no one has ever lied. It’s a neat concept and co-writers (and co-directors) Ricky Gervais and Matthew Robinson create some great setups as well as write some pretty funny lines. A television commerical for Coke has the spokesman tell us not the qualities of the soft drink, but instead pleads with us to not stop buying it. An ad on a bus tells us that Pepsi is for those moments when “you can’t find a Coke.”

The film starts off brilliantly, with Mark Bellison (Gervais, in full inferiority complex), arriving at the home of Anna McDoogles (Jennifer Garner) for their first date. As no one can lie, Anna reminds Mark that she doesn’t really find him attractive, but doesn’t want to spend the night alone at home. Mark understands all too well, as his life is at a crossroads; he knows he will be soon fired for the poorly written screenplays about the Black Plague that he labors over.




The dinner conversation is hilarious, as the waiter lets Anna know that “this will be clumsy” as he finds her attractive. When he asks her if she’ll give him her number, she bluntly refuses (remember, she can’t lie). Mark tries to enjoy the evening, but knows that while he is attracted to her, she is out of his league, which she is all too happy to remind him of (even the waiter lets Mark know this fact).When he sees her to her door after dinner, she tells him that she enjoyed the evening more than she thought she would, which is about as positive a message as Mark can take away from their night out.

If only the movie could have kept up the hilarity and charm of these first few scenes! Unfortunately, the story gets predictable and despite a few clever scenes, such as when Mark tells a beautiful woman passing by that the world will end unless they have sex right away (and of course, she believes him, as remember – no one has ever lied), the film becomes a tired retread of “will the guy get the girl.” We know he will and while this can be fun to watch in some films, it isn’t all that entertaining here, despite the appeal of Gervais and Garner.



Another problem is that Gervais comes across as a sad sack and wants us to love – not just like – his character. While that sad puppy dog look of his is funny for a short time, it wears thin. Sympathy is not what makes this movie funny, it’s the spot on use of the truth to challenge us and make us a little uneasy. Like in many uncomfortable situations, we nervously laugh to relieve our uneasiness. That’s what’s best about this film.

So the messages in this film don’t always work. But at least the creators didn’t lie to us.

A Touch of Capra

I finally got around to seeing Ghost Town the other day. It was on the plane ride home from Munich and I’m sure if you’ve flown lately, you know how nice it is to see a good film, given all the garbage that gets shown on the airlines. That aside, I liked this film very much for several reasons, for its performances, which most reviewers have mentioned, but also for its message, which has not been the subject of too many critical analyses of this film.

The focal point of this film is the performance of Ricky Gervais, the great British comic actor who starred in the original version of the TV series The Office. Gervais plays Dr. Bertram Pincus, a New York City dentist who just doesn’t care much for people and even less for their problems. He’s got the perfect job since he can shove all sorts of things in his patients’ mouths, meaning he doesn’t have to listen to their concerns.

One day he undergoes a routine operation in which he is dead for seven minutes before coming back to life. Because of this, he can see ghosts, who upon their discovery that the doctor can actually see and hear them, pester the poor guy with their problems. Just what he needs!

Gervais is brilliant in this film, especially in the hospital scenes when he answers one of those annoying questionnares about everything from when he last ate solid food to how well his laxatives worked. How we’d all love to say the things he does in this scene! He’s also great in his scenes with Gwen (Tea Leoni, in a quirky, captivating performance) with whom he falls in love. Gwen, you see, was married to Frank Herlihy (Greg Kinnear), a businessman who cheated on her. Now Frank (who recently died and is now a ghost) wants the doctor to sway Gwen away from marrying a self-righteous jerk who is involved in organizing medical help for Third World countries (that doesn’t make him a jerk, of course, it’s the way the character is written, as some sort of modern day savior). Kinnear, who is making a nice living playing everyday characters with some annoying tics, won’t give up until Dr. Pincus does the job he asks him to carry out. The more the doctor resists, the more Frank talks to the other ghosts he knows and convinces them to ask the doctor to help them as well.

While the film plays cute at times, the story is effective enough and the performances are so good that we accept some of the limitations of the project. Yet there is one brilliant scene in the film that few have discussed. The message here is that when you die, you don’t just go to heaven (or the other place) right away. No, it turns out that we all have some unfinished business we need to have taken care of. As we’re dead, we can’t do it, so we have to tell our story to someone who has undergone death and has then come back to life.

The scene comes after Dr. Pincus’ associate tells him that one day he should understand that the world doesn’t revolve around him and that he needs to actually listen to other people and help them from time to time. It sounds a bit corny, but it comes across in a subtle way and when Pincus finally understands that message, he becomes a new man, so to speak.

Dr. Pincus goes to the ghosts and listens to their stories. All the ghosts have requests for him; some are simple like the father who needs to tell his son where he lost his stuffed animal, while other are more dramatic, like the construction workers who die because of a mechanical problem on their truck. They know why they died, but their foreman thinks he was careless and caused their deaths. They can’t tell him, so Dr. Pincus must relieve this man of his overwhelming guilt.

The scene that follows is really quite special, told without words with only a quiet, bittersweet theme performed by violin and piano as Pincus goes to the people whose lives were touched by these ghosts before they died. As the doctor clears things up with the living, we see the ghosts’ reactions for a second just before the screen turns to white, signifying their departure to their afterlife. It’s a very moving scene and it’s one that has a touch of Frank Capra to it. Like one of the great scenes from Capra's best works such as Meet John Doe or Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, this scene does share a common message of humanity – all of us need to show our fellow man a little more understanding. It’s this decency that made Capra’s films ring true and it’s this same feeling that makes this scene so wonderful.

It’s this message that makes Ghost Town an above average comedy. The film ends with a cute line about Dr. Pincus being able to help Gwen with a minor problem (or is it a major one?), but it’s a line that fits perfectly and has a sentiment that has been earned. How nice that writer/director David Koepp fashioned a modern-day comedy that isn’t afraid to deal with our deepest emotions about our fellow man.