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"Rising
from the 'Ashes'"
by Scott Mantz
"Angela's Ashes"
Robert Carlyle, Emily Watson
Directed by Alan Parker
I gotta admit,
I'm not much of a reader. Well, let me rephrase that. I actually
do read alot, but it's probably not what I should be reading. Let's
face it--"Entertainment Weekly", "Daily Variety", "The Hollywood
Reporter", and "Movieline" are not exactly known as literary classics!
So when it comes to seeing films that are adapted from popular books,
I can't make the inevitable comparisons that most people make. In
fact, even if I did read the original material, I still wouldn't
compare. Why? Well, what's the point? Where novels can vary from
a few hundred pages to over a thousand, scripts only average about
120. Obviously, something is going to be left out, but as long as
the movie captures the premise and spirit of the original material,
then that's all you can ask for.
Having said
that, there are times when even the spirit of the original material
gets lost in the translation. That certainly seems to be the case
with the big screen version of author Frank McCourt's best-seller.
"Angela's Ashes" delivers when it comes to portraying the dread
of growing up destitute in pre-war Ireland, but by lacking the inspirational
wit that drove the book (at least, that's what they tell me), the
movie comes up short and leaves you with a depressing feeling.
If you think
you've got it bad, then you haven't met the McCourt family. In the
wake of baby Margaret's death and the inability of Dad (Robert Carlyle)
to hold down a job, they crawl back to their native Irish homeland
with their tails between their legs. Things get from bad to worse
when the McCourts settle down in their horribly impoverished environment
and disease takes the lives of 2 more children. Dad faces an uphill
battle because of his ethnic background and can't find work. What
little money he does bring in is spent on alcohol, and this eventually
takes its toll on the family. In the face of all this dread, young
Frank McCourt (Joe Breen) soldiers on and never loses sight of his
dream to move back to America.
I've heard of
trying to capture the feeling of the time, but this is too much.
Director Alan Parker succeeds in capturing every sense of dread
by painting an utterly gloomy picture, but he doesn't offset it
with any inspirational undercurrent to make it worthwhile. While
it's admirable to see Frank keep his chin up in the face of such
adversity, by not showing where he gets his drive, it prevents the
audience from making an emotional connection.
The film begins
with the McCourts wasting away in New York City. If things couldn't
get any worse, then why did they leave?. For one thing, it never
stops raining in Ireland--never. Also, between the disgusting surroundings
and Dad's alcoholic tendencies, we're privy to more vomit scenes
than any other film since "The Exorcist" (I counted 5). What's the
point? I mean, I got the picture the first 2 times around! Parker
may spread the wealth by giving every major cast member a piece
of the action, including Carlyle, Watson, and the three children
who play Frank, but after a while, enough's enough.
At least there
are a few acting notices that keep the film from being a total drag.
Robert Carlyle gives a strong and subdued performance as Frank's
dad. He may not be able to hold down a job, and he may care more
about drinking than providing for his family, but he still conveys
a sympathetic and emotional bond to his kids. As Angela, Emily Watson
is the backbone of the film. She doesn't have much to work with,
but she still does her best to be there for her kids. Ultimately,
Frank learns to stand on his own and become a strong young man.
It's not surprising
that there's a happy ending, or at least as happy as can be expected
under the circumstances, but by this time you're left feeling drained
and depressed. Obviously, something's missing. Instead of conveying
the importance of holding onto hope in the most dire of circumstances
(something director Frank Darabont did so well with "The Shawshank
Redemption"), we're left squirming in our seats until the bitter
end. What a bummer.
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