After ANALYZE THIS, another comedy highly praised in the States revealed to be flat and not very funny at all. I've never been a huge fan of either messrs. Martin or Murphy, so I was surprised to find myself at the film at all; but the reviews wree good, and Heather Graham. The film aims to please on three levels - as comedy; as character study; and as a film about film-making - but fails on all counts. Actually fail is too strong a word - the film's irritating self-satisfaction never allows for anything as grand as ambition.
As a comedy there are simply not enough laughs. With the possible exception of ROXANNE, I have never gotten the point of Steve Martin, and, as both comedian and scriptwriter, he rarely rises above the obvious here. The jokes lack teeth - and while the film's lack of the Gothic melodrama which weakens many of the great films about Hollywood (e.g. SUNSET BOULEVARD), by taking it as seriously as it would like - the lack of any real trauma (surely the essence of all great comedy) makes what is essentially a series of loosely cohered sketches rather lame and lifeless.
The film severely sags when Eddie Murphy isn't on the screen (I never thought I'd write that), and it's hardly a (double) role that taxes him. His nerd is particularly funny, even if he is the film's pivot into dreaded sentimentality. The antics of low-budget film crews have been done so much funnier elsewhere (e.g. LIVING IN OBLIVION, a film intimate with nightmare), but Graham shows what a great comedienne she is becoming, and what a knockout she'll be when somebody gives her a character and a decent script.
If the film is indifferent as comedy, it is a complete flop as character study. Martin is a blank - we get no idea as to what drives him to make films. Like the hero of ED WOOD, his woeful incompetence is compared to the towering, equally struggling, genius of Orson Welles (there is a poster of TOUCH OF EVIL in his house), but whereas Wood's genuine enthusiasm and love poignantly matched the great man's, Bowfinger seems little more that a cynical opportunist.
Even this might have been interesting, but Martin doesn't pursue it. Bowfinger's past and private life is equally a void. He has seemingly been making Z-grade films for a long time, but do people like that exist anymore? Don't they make adult films? He lives alone with his dog. He doesn't do the dishes. He may have had a relationship in the past with the leading lady, it's not clear. We don't know how he met up with his buddy the car guy. His supposedly persuasive charm is anything but.
The other characters do not rise above caricatures. Murphy gives more of an impersonation than a performance. The brother is probably the more believable of the two, but is really only used for cheap laughs. Kit Ramsey, the action star paranoid at an anti-black conspiracy confiding in a very white Mindhead guru is only amusing as a plot excuse rather than a person. Martin's misogyny is clearly revealed in Graham's part, which she gives more complexity than it deserves.
As a film about filmmaking, BOWFINGER has pretensions to two films - IRMA VEP and the aforementioned ED WOOD, but lacks the former's belief in the transcendent power of cinema, or the melancholy cheerfulness of the latter. It's hard to believe in a film avowing an imdependent spirit that stars Eddie Murphy. The film is pure Hollywood, the little man who against the odds becomes a (relative)success. There is never any real danger of this not happening, or if there were we wouldn't care because the characters aren't interesting enough. The supposed confusions of Bowfinger's kind of guerilla filmmaking are cosily tidied up in slick direction and a pat script.
By its very subject matter, the film raises issues such as authenticity, reproduction, authoriality, as well as the integrity of Hollywood (!), or any collaborative product, but doesn't do anything very meaningful with them. Like VEP, though, I have to admit that there is a certain magic in seeing such a low-budget travesty as the filming of Ramsey in the car lot, transformed into something approaching magic. But Bowfinger doesn't want to make films anymore than Ramsey does - he wants to make movies, have lunches with powerful producers, attend all-star premieres. The dash of sentimentality towards the end is so unpalatable because it is so sickly and unearned. Martin might be a very clever man, but he is not a cinematic thinker like Assayas or Burton - he has no idea why people love movies, and need to make them. BOWFINGER is quite funny, but do yourself a favour and watch a real, troubled, film like ED WOOD or IRMA VEP instead.
As a comedy there are simply not enough laughs. With the possible exception of ROXANNE, I have never gotten the point of Steve Martin, and, as both comedian and scriptwriter, he rarely rises above the obvious here. The jokes lack teeth - and while the film's lack of the Gothic melodrama which weakens many of the great films about Hollywood (e.g. SUNSET BOULEVARD), by taking it as seriously as it would like - the lack of any real trauma (surely the essence of all great comedy) makes what is essentially a series of loosely cohered sketches rather lame and lifeless.
The film severely sags when Eddie Murphy isn't on the screen (I never thought I'd write that), and it's hardly a (double) role that taxes him. His nerd is particularly funny, even if he is the film's pivot into dreaded sentimentality. The antics of low-budget film crews have been done so much funnier elsewhere (e.g. LIVING IN OBLIVION, a film intimate with nightmare), but Graham shows what a great comedienne she is becoming, and what a knockout she'll be when somebody gives her a character and a decent script.
If the film is indifferent as comedy, it is a complete flop as character study. Martin is a blank - we get no idea as to what drives him to make films. Like the hero of ED WOOD, his woeful incompetence is compared to the towering, equally struggling, genius of Orson Welles (there is a poster of TOUCH OF EVIL in his house), but whereas Wood's genuine enthusiasm and love poignantly matched the great man's, Bowfinger seems little more that a cynical opportunist.
Even this might have been interesting, but Martin doesn't pursue it. Bowfinger's past and private life is equally a void. He has seemingly been making Z-grade films for a long time, but do people like that exist anymore? Don't they make adult films? He lives alone with his dog. He doesn't do the dishes. He may have had a relationship in the past with the leading lady, it's not clear. We don't know how he met up with his buddy the car guy. His supposedly persuasive charm is anything but.
The other characters do not rise above caricatures. Murphy gives more of an impersonation than a performance. The brother is probably the more believable of the two, but is really only used for cheap laughs. Kit Ramsey, the action star paranoid at an anti-black conspiracy confiding in a very white Mindhead guru is only amusing as a plot excuse rather than a person. Martin's misogyny is clearly revealed in Graham's part, which she gives more complexity than it deserves.
As a film about filmmaking, BOWFINGER has pretensions to two films - IRMA VEP and the aforementioned ED WOOD, but lacks the former's belief in the transcendent power of cinema, or the melancholy cheerfulness of the latter. It's hard to believe in a film avowing an imdependent spirit that stars Eddie Murphy. The film is pure Hollywood, the little man who against the odds becomes a (relative)success. There is never any real danger of this not happening, or if there were we wouldn't care because the characters aren't interesting enough. The supposed confusions of Bowfinger's kind of guerilla filmmaking are cosily tidied up in slick direction and a pat script.
By its very subject matter, the film raises issues such as authenticity, reproduction, authoriality, as well as the integrity of Hollywood (!), or any collaborative product, but doesn't do anything very meaningful with them. Like VEP, though, I have to admit that there is a certain magic in seeing such a low-budget travesty as the filming of Ramsey in the car lot, transformed into something approaching magic. But Bowfinger doesn't want to make films anymore than Ramsey does - he wants to make movies, have lunches with powerful producers, attend all-star premieres. The dash of sentimentality towards the end is so unpalatable because it is so sickly and unearned. Martin might be a very clever man, but he is not a cinematic thinker like Assayas or Burton - he has no idea why people love movies, and need to make them. BOWFINGER is quite funny, but do yourself a favour and watch a real, troubled, film like ED WOOD or IRMA VEP instead.