by Katharine Elizabeth Monahan Huntley
Lisa Cholodenko’s cinematic choices intrigue: in High Art her focus is on Syd, a self-conscious, apple-cheeked assistant editor for “Frame” magazine who chances upon reclusive photographer Lucy Berliner (a suggestion of Nan Goldin), all heroin chic and Sapphic slouch. A love curious story set against the New York world of art, intellect, and pretense.
Laurel Canyon is a snapshot of the ramshackle charm of Los Angeles’ hippy dippy enclave. Cholodenko revisits the themes of lures and morals; a first-class cast and crew (go Cory Geryak!) are on board for the trip. Christian Bale plays priggish Sam, the only child of legendary record producer Jane (the rad Frances McDormand in an ironic about-face from her Almost Famous mother role). He is to begin his medical residency at a prestigious psych hospital, and, with uptight Ph.D. candidate fiancée Alex (Kate Beckinsale), moves from the puritanical East Coast to his mother’s bitchin’ Laurel Canyon home.
From an Ivy Tower to the Tower of Babel.
Despite a Harvard degree, Sam can’t seem to recognize the classic mother/son angst that underlies his hostility. Hmmm. He also experiences internal conflict with his attraction towards 2nd year resident babe, Sara (Natascha McElhone). Alex is immediately distracted from finishing her dissertation, drawn to the charismatic, chain-smoking bleach-streaked Jane, and the continual “minstrel show” led by Jane’s British bad boy Ian (Alessandro Nivola). Sam and Alex and Sam and Jane’s issues escalate at an infamous Hollywood Hills hotel, where, as Harry Cohn once remarked: “If you must get in trouble, do it at the Chateau Marmont.”
The look of Laurel Canyon is cool, however, the location is wasted. Cholodenko fails us with a trite story told with too obvious codes (prior to showing up at Jane’s door, the uneasy couple play Scrabble with the tiles spelling out the words “sweaty” and “queasy”), and dithering between which relationship to properly develop—much more captivating would have been a clear exploration of Sam and Jane’s relationship (particularly emphasizing Jane’s backstory), and a linking of Laurel Canyon lore.
Alex’s take on Jane: “She’s a little odd. Her presentation’s a little odd. But I think she means well” can be applied to Cholodenko.
And that’s why I look forward to her next cinematic outing. (Update: The episodes LC directed from Unbelievable and The Girl from Plainview served.)
Laurel Canyon is Lisa Cholodenko’s idea of what life must have been like for Joni Mitchell and the “Ladies of the Canyon.” Director James Cox’s Wonderland, based upon a true Los Angeles crime and shot coked-up kaleidoscope style, proves yet again, there is no honor among thieves. Relayed through a miasma of cigarette smoke and sleaze, the strung out story of porn legend John Holmes (Val Kilmer) and nightclub impresario Eddie Nash (Eric Bogosian) is a dark chapter in L.A.’s boogie nights that transfixes. The film’s feeling of authenticity comes from screenwriter Todd Samovitz’ (“Every stage of making a movie is a rewrite”) years of intensive research. His original version of the screenplay was more of an homage to the noir classic Double Indemnity. Main character John Holmes was the focus of the story and the audience was to see everything through his eyes, as opposed to the Rashomon structure Cox ultimately chose.
The two women in Holmes’ life—and consultants on the film—wife Sharon Holmes and girlfriend Dawn Schiller, played by Lisa Kudrow and Kate Bosworth (a cross between Brunette Breck Girl and trailer park trash) lend a touch of veracity as well.
The rest of the cast is impeccable, among them: party tart Paris Hilton plays a Barbie doll; The Practice‘ Bobby (Dylan McDermott) is virtually unrecognizable as a biker.
The Laurel Canyon Country Store is referenced as the local spot for drug deals—the same store Jim Morrison (played by Val Kilmer in Oliver Stone’s The Doors) wrote about in “Love Street.”
“I see you live on Love Street. /There’s this store where the creatures meet. /I wonder what they do in there . . .”
L.A. Hear/Say: The Laurel Canyon Country Store bottom floor is where The Cat and Fiddle—-the pub for English expatriates who found themselves in the Hollywood Hills—was situated before it relocated to Sunset Boulevard. In real life another English pub—Ye Coach and Horses on Sunset Boulevard—is where, in the past, actors have been known to buy their rock.
Wonderland flies high where Laurel Canyon falls short: Cox, et al understand that the best L.A. stories are not just set in L.A.—they are also intrinsic to the canyons, hills, and boulevards of its inevitable broken dreams.
Note: WGA credit given to James Cox, Captain Mauzner, Todd Samovitz, and D. Loriston Scott. Per a conversation with writer Todd Samovitz at the “Lies Told and Laws Broken” Writers Boot Camp Sundance Eye Opener panel, arbitration for writing credit is another avenue a dream might reel upon and crack—with no quick fix to mend it.