Say an author describes a man entering a room. And the writer is able to tell you absolutely everything that man feels about entering that room in a mere five words.
Now, say the writer takes five sentences to tell you the same thing because he wants to tell you what is in the room. Or say it takes him five paragraphs, because he not only tells you what furniture is in the room, but goes into minute detail about the color and the fabric of the upholstery and the grain of the wood and the design of the carpet and the images imprinted on the wallpaper. But what if he takes five pages as he writes about where the trees were grown that rendered the wood and the wallpaper; and where the sheep were raised for the wool for the carpet and the upholstery, and how much everything cost, and where it was bought and by whom and on what day and etc., etc.
Now, those final five pages might be eloquently written, accurately detailed and maybe even fascinating in their own right, but somewhere between five poetic words and five rambling pages the narrative ceased to be about the man and instead becomes all about the room -- and not even about the room, but rather about the research the writer did in order to describe the room. Historical trivia takes the place of human emotion. That pretty much sums up the folly known as HEAVEN'S GATE, a slight, potentially meaningful tale lost amid a display of self-aggrandizing, ego boosting pseudo-scholarship.
Michael Cimino's obsession with detail in making the film is legendary -- right down to insisting that era-appropriate underwear be worn by the extras. The writer/director bragged about how such details couldn't actually be seen but could be sensed -- by him if no one else. Of course, such details don't come cheap, whether in time or money or effort; and his manic need to make everything seem accurate and honest was responsible for making HEAVEN'S GATE one of the most expensive films ever made up to its time. The irony is that, though the trivial details might be right, everything else is wrong and that is why HEAVEN'S GATE became the biggest critical and financial flop up to its time. What was supposed to be a faithful recreation of a piece of Americana became instead a ponderous tour of a cluttered, dusty warehouse of arcane bric-a-brac.
Of course, a desire for authenticity is all well and good, and is generally to be applauded; but in this film's case it just seems like hollow hypocrisy in light of just how dishonest the rest of HEAVEN'S GATE is. For one thing, the film supposedly documents the Johnson County War, a nasty little range war in Wyoming in 1892. A few people died unjustly and the federal government had to step in to calm things down. It could be the basis for a decent little movie -- or at least a 30-minute episode of "Death Valley Days." In Cimino's hands, however, the "war" ended up being a tale of the mass slaughter of hordes of nameless, faceless immigrants, building to a major battle rivaling anything in the Civil War. Little of his bombastic version has anything to do with historical fact.
Okay, Hollywood long ago gave up any attempt, let alone claim to historical accuracy (see John Ford's THE MAN WHO SHOT LIBERTY VALANCE for insight), but usually it came with the suggestion that trading fact for fiction would reveal a greater truth. HEAVEN'S GATE fails here too. Though built around a nominal love story -- good guy and bad guy love the same woman -- HEAVEN'S GATE is all too obviously a heavy-handed anti-American, or at least anti-capitalism, allegory. The rich cattle barons (American capitalists) are evil; the poor immigrants (the Third World) are pathetic little victims. It is the same pompous propaganda Hollywood often embraces, though Cimino seems to think it is an original insight. But, as is the case with so much Hollywood liberalism, it isn't even Rich versus Poor or Oppressor versus Oppressed; rather it is Rich Conservative versus Rich Liberal. Though he crowds his frames with teeming masses longing to be free, as Cimino depicts them they blend into a pitiable mass, indistinguishable as individuals. Few of the immigrants are even given names, let alone identities.
Cimino no doubt thought he was speaking out against injustice, but his view of the poor is soured by condescension, they aren't important except as a concept, a symbol of a liberal indignation. Rather than focusing on one or more of the poor fighting for dignity, his chosen hero is Kris Kristofferson's James Averill, a rich, educated, liberal do-gooder from the East who turns against his wealthy brethren in the name of the immigrants. HEAVEN'S GATE doesn't recognize the humanity of the poor, but rather salutes the arrogance of those who pity them.
Cimino rode into HEAVEN'S GATE on a tidal wave of acclaim created by the success of his masterpiece, THE DEER HUNTER. Faced with the need to prove that DEER HUNTER wasn't a fluke, and that he really was a genius, Cimino no doubt immersed himself in the endless preparation and the tedious search for detailed perfection just as a way of avoiding actually completing the movie. Like the filmmaker, the film never really seems motivated to even get started, and hustle and bustle are substituted for actual drama. Thus, the film plods along, expecting the viewer to be inspired by the majesty of the Wyoming locations, to absorb the wisdom in the banal, long-winded dialogue and to be in awe of the authenticity of all the production design. But, it is like a bad joke with no punch line, there ultimately is no point. And Cimino ends up saying nothing other than "See how hard I tried."
Now, say the writer takes five sentences to tell you the same thing because he wants to tell you what is in the room. Or say it takes him five paragraphs, because he not only tells you what furniture is in the room, but goes into minute detail about the color and the fabric of the upholstery and the grain of the wood and the design of the carpet and the images imprinted on the wallpaper. But what if he takes five pages as he writes about where the trees were grown that rendered the wood and the wallpaper; and where the sheep were raised for the wool for the carpet and the upholstery, and how much everything cost, and where it was bought and by whom and on what day and etc., etc.
Now, those final five pages might be eloquently written, accurately detailed and maybe even fascinating in their own right, but somewhere between five poetic words and five rambling pages the narrative ceased to be about the man and instead becomes all about the room -- and not even about the room, but rather about the research the writer did in order to describe the room. Historical trivia takes the place of human emotion. That pretty much sums up the folly known as HEAVEN'S GATE, a slight, potentially meaningful tale lost amid a display of self-aggrandizing, ego boosting pseudo-scholarship.
Michael Cimino's obsession with detail in making the film is legendary -- right down to insisting that era-appropriate underwear be worn by the extras. The writer/director bragged about how such details couldn't actually be seen but could be sensed -- by him if no one else. Of course, such details don't come cheap, whether in time or money or effort; and his manic need to make everything seem accurate and honest was responsible for making HEAVEN'S GATE one of the most expensive films ever made up to its time. The irony is that, though the trivial details might be right, everything else is wrong and that is why HEAVEN'S GATE became the biggest critical and financial flop up to its time. What was supposed to be a faithful recreation of a piece of Americana became instead a ponderous tour of a cluttered, dusty warehouse of arcane bric-a-brac.
Of course, a desire for authenticity is all well and good, and is generally to be applauded; but in this film's case it just seems like hollow hypocrisy in light of just how dishonest the rest of HEAVEN'S GATE is. For one thing, the film supposedly documents the Johnson County War, a nasty little range war in Wyoming in 1892. A few people died unjustly and the federal government had to step in to calm things down. It could be the basis for a decent little movie -- or at least a 30-minute episode of "Death Valley Days." In Cimino's hands, however, the "war" ended up being a tale of the mass slaughter of hordes of nameless, faceless immigrants, building to a major battle rivaling anything in the Civil War. Little of his bombastic version has anything to do with historical fact.
Okay, Hollywood long ago gave up any attempt, let alone claim to historical accuracy (see John Ford's THE MAN WHO SHOT LIBERTY VALANCE for insight), but usually it came with the suggestion that trading fact for fiction would reveal a greater truth. HEAVEN'S GATE fails here too. Though built around a nominal love story -- good guy and bad guy love the same woman -- HEAVEN'S GATE is all too obviously a heavy-handed anti-American, or at least anti-capitalism, allegory. The rich cattle barons (American capitalists) are evil; the poor immigrants (the Third World) are pathetic little victims. It is the same pompous propaganda Hollywood often embraces, though Cimino seems to think it is an original insight. But, as is the case with so much Hollywood liberalism, it isn't even Rich versus Poor or Oppressor versus Oppressed; rather it is Rich Conservative versus Rich Liberal. Though he crowds his frames with teeming masses longing to be free, as Cimino depicts them they blend into a pitiable mass, indistinguishable as individuals. Few of the immigrants are even given names, let alone identities.
Cimino no doubt thought he was speaking out against injustice, but his view of the poor is soured by condescension, they aren't important except as a concept, a symbol of a liberal indignation. Rather than focusing on one or more of the poor fighting for dignity, his chosen hero is Kris Kristofferson's James Averill, a rich, educated, liberal do-gooder from the East who turns against his wealthy brethren in the name of the immigrants. HEAVEN'S GATE doesn't recognize the humanity of the poor, but rather salutes the arrogance of those who pity them.
Cimino rode into HEAVEN'S GATE on a tidal wave of acclaim created by the success of his masterpiece, THE DEER HUNTER. Faced with the need to prove that DEER HUNTER wasn't a fluke, and that he really was a genius, Cimino no doubt immersed himself in the endless preparation and the tedious search for detailed perfection just as a way of avoiding actually completing the movie. Like the filmmaker, the film never really seems motivated to even get started, and hustle and bustle are substituted for actual drama. Thus, the film plods along, expecting the viewer to be inspired by the majesty of the Wyoming locations, to absorb the wisdom in the banal, long-winded dialogue and to be in awe of the authenticity of all the production design. But, it is like a bad joke with no punch line, there ultimately is no point. And Cimino ends up saying nothing other than "See how hard I tried."