Blog From The Bench

I go to the movies about 2-3 times a year, because I vastly prefer my own home theater, the beer and silence and manners it offers.

Even more rare is when my wife wants to see a movie in the theater. She has less tolerance for humanity-in-a-box than I do, which is saying something. But Ebert's review convinced her that The Constant Gardener was a must see. (Should it pain me that my wife trusts another reviewer's tastes over my own? Well... though she's a great one, I probably wouldn't use her as my psychologist, so it all evens out.)

The Constant Gardener deeply impressed me in some ways. It uses in-vogue documentary techniques to give the fictional tale an absolutely realistic sense. From the winged-migration-like birds to the gritty outdoor scenes, even the quiet moments of daily life, The Constant Gardener walks and talks like a documentary. This is effective when credibility needs to be absolute, but a detriment when people are reading the newspaper or walking down the hallway. In other words, I wish the technique had been used judiciously instead of onmipresently.

Rachel Weisz shines. I'm not sure that The Mummy Returns really tested her gifts. She is absolutely convincing, both in her love and her secrecy. Ralph Fiennes is downright approachable, and transitions believably from dweeb to truth vigilante.

Finally, the stark subject is a welcome change from the dumbing down we're often subjected to in domestic films. City of God was anything but trite, so this is to be expected from Fernando Meirelles, but it is refreshing nonetheless.

Despite these positives, The Constant Gardener left me feeling empty afterward. Perhaps it was because the leads never had a fully honest connection to each other, and their relationship grew most post-mortem. Maybe I reseted the constant stream of red herrings. Maybe African tragedy is just too sad.

I can say with certainty that the ending was dissatisfying. After the immense growth of his character, the leverage he'd gained, why did Justin lie down? He had a plane, a gun, money, knowledge, and friends. He had a mission with much left to accomplish. Perhaps his execution was certain. But wouldn't staying alive have been a more fitting tribute to Tessa? Wouldn't the attempt to right things, disburse funds, help people-- even the attempt to live-- been the better course?