INSIDE MANOHLA

When I first heard the name Manohla Dargis, I figured it had to be an anagram. All I knew was that the words "dingo," "lasagna," "nimrod," "gonads," "aloha," and even the word "anagram" were in there somewhere, but I didn't have the time nor the wherewithal to figure it out. I told my woman about my theory, so she took a crack at it, determined to uncover the mystery. Playing by the rules (using every letter without repeating any), she amused but didn't impress me with "Ham Groin Salad," "Amoral shading" and a few others. But then, she floored me with a doozy... "A Longish Drama." I thought it ironic that Manohla Dargis' enigmatic pen name, after some unscrambling, revealed something that resembled one of her thin, vague, non-committal, but pithy film reviews.

Formerly a critic for the Village Voice (way back in '87), the L.A. Times, and the dreaded L.A. Weakly, avant-gardeist Manohla has been taking the hatchet to various great movies and heavy petting some of the worst dogs this anti-critic has ever seen -- and, all the while, covering herself in those same reviews in case she changes her mind about those films in the future. Still concerned about her legacy, now she's she's spewing obligatory venom AND antidote on behalf of the prestigious New York Times. Unfortunately, the New York Times is no New Yorker, and Miss Dargis is certainly no Pauline Kael. Let's take a look at her calculated attempt to find common ground with the common folk in a review of the latest "Die Hard" flick, a review which exposes her as a Rubik's cube who makes a living keeping her readers puzzled and unable to decipher whether or not she actually liked the movie.

"A lot has happened in the 12 years since Bruce Willis yippee-kai-yay-ed in "Die Hard With a Vengeance" with a glowering Samuel L. Jackson in tow. During that time Mr. Willis's star has expanded and collapsed through hits and duds and plenty of personal off-screen noise. The world has changed too, of course, and with it the action-flick coordinates: for one, Arnold Schwarzenegger runs California, while the sober, nonwisecracking likes of Matt Damon's Bourne rules the bad-boy roost. For another: Mr. Willis has become an increasingly appealing character actor, the kind who punches up a scene or two ("Alpha Dog," "Fast Food Nation") or an entire movie ("16 Blocks"), mostly by playing it not so nice and very easy."

Let's be honest. Going snidely sideways on The Running Man is a transparent maneuver (now exceptionally safe) to forge a "you see, we have a lot in common, commoners"-bond with the general public. Why doesn't she just leave politicking to the people who should be politicking... Hollywood celebrities?!? But, this is what really gets my goat - In her review of the dull, idiotic "16 Blocks," she steps way out of line when she compares some of its characters to the characters that inhabit the films of the great Sidney Lumet. Which ones, Manhole? Sol Nazerman from "The Pawnbroker?" Sonny from "Dog Day Afternoon?" Howard Beale? Just pulling the name Sidney Lumet right out of her ass. I'm certain Mr. Lumet would object not only to that, but for being in there in the first place.

"Life or age or something has mellowed Mr. Willis. He no longer enters a movie like God's gift, as he did almost two decades ago in the first "Die Hard," lips pursed as if he alone were in on the joke — which, given the fat salary he was earning, perhaps he was. In "Live Free or Die Hard" he enters swinging, fist smashing through hard glass and sinking into soft flesh. He's making a point and so is the movie, namely that McClane (and Mr. Willis) is ready to earn our love again by performing the same lovably violent, meathead tricks as before. And look, he's not laughing, not exactly, even if the film ends up a goof."

Meathead? Goof? Are these acceptable words to be bandied about by a "L'Avventura-ficcianado?" I think not, panderer. What would Antonioni think?

"An unexpectedly funny goof, at that, despite everything, including the mayhem and somewhat creepy plot. The screenplay attributed to Mark Bomback, who shares the story credit with David Marconi, has the whiff of multiple writers, as action-driven productions generally do. It originated with a 1997 story (dubiously titled "A Farewell to Arms") by John Carlin in Wired magazine about the potential for a cataclysmic, nation-crippling "information war," which mutated and stalled, picking up new writers and equally doubtful names ("WW3.com," "Die Hard 4.0"). Somewhere along the development line, the real world intruded, which is why the original idea about an information war now includes a plausible-sounding or at least not entirely outlandish hook to Sept. 11 — hence, the creepiness."

"The whiff of multiple writers," is an odor I and most Americans can deal with. The whiff of self-aggrandizing gobbledy gook, on the other hand, has me on my knees clutching a plug-in Glade, coughing as I make my way to the outlet, considering the alternative tongue-insertion. As for her thinly veiled but unsinkable condescension, a constant in her writing, shit lathered with perfume is still shit that stinks.

"Despite its jaw-jutting title, with its evocation of revolutionary America and radical individualism, "Live Free or Die Hard" keeps a tighter rein on McClane, dialing down his man-against-the-world attitude to a low hum. He's still more or less alone, at least existentially, though, as per the action playbook, he quickly picks up a sidekick and audience surrogate in the hacker impersonated by Justin Long (flicking between annoyance and amusement)."

Why drop the existentialism-bomb? Could her weakness for the avant-garde extend even to Bruce Willis box office blockbusters? C'est it ain't so.

"But McClane is also unequivocally playing for team America, helping the F.B.I. and its no-nonsense, supremely capable deputy director, Bowman (Cliff Curtis), who runs the sillily named cyber division with blinking monitors and scurrying minions. Heroic in deed and in acquaintance, Bowman knows to side with McClane, saving his contemptuous looks for the guy from Homeland Security. Nothing on Len Wiseman's résumé — he previously directed the two "Underworld" flicks, wherein the Goth kids really are vampires — suggests that he could wrangle both Mr. Willis and this new film's nerve-jangling action to such satisfying effect. At least on the second count he has received terrific help from a sprawling cast of stuntmen and -women (and the stunt coordinator Brad Martin), who do a great deal to advance the film's old-school mayhem. The use of Parkour during several fight scenes is particularly tasty, proving that when cinematic push comes to shove, the French, who originated this ultra-cool rough-and-tumble, which finds performers bouncing like balls from wall to wall, rooftop to rooftop and many hair-raising points in between, are definitely in the coalition of the willing."

Of course, now it all makes sense. The use of Parkour. How else could she justify enjoying this film on any level to her friends at Cannes? Senseless Asian Martial Arts she has a problem with. French dance-violence, on the other hand... ooh lah lah.

Dear Manohla Dargis,

Back in 2002, Steve Erickson interviewed you. Fascinating reading, especially this part:

"Frankly, I am pretty bored with most of the film criticism I read, to the point that I am beginning to think we need to start re-examining what it is and what it's good for, if anything. Of course, most of what's out there isn't really criticism but a degraded form of reviewing – just thumbs up, thumbs down, with a heavy dose of plot synopsis."

Okay, well, seeing as how you probably only read your own reviews, it's no wonder you got bored and questioned the validity of your profession. Who wouldn't have? All joking aside, I think it was an astute observation, and very telling. Couldn't help but chuckle at your nasty swipes at Roger Ebert and the dead Gene Siskel. But I must add, your review of "Live Free Or Die Hard" made me long for the type of review that is less gray area and more committal. It's a pity that someone with so many words in her arsenal (and within her name) doesn't use those words more effectively - that is, unless your sole purpose as an employee of The Times is to disorient the masses. I understand that you cut your teeth on films of the avant garde, but surrealism, absurdism, and post-Dada surrealistic absurdism have no place in the writing of critiques. These are simply signs of artistic insecurities, and should be used only by real artists who, to avoid ridicule, justifiably play it safe by hiding behind the mask of a style that doesn't allow for scrutiny, as there are no rules to break, no standards to rebel against, and usually nothing substantial under the surface. Stick with the linear, Man-O, that's where the true risk-takers are.

Pardon the tangent, just trying to get your attention. The message I'm trying to convey is this: If you can't decide whether to say yea or nay, say nothing and give another critic at the Times a shot. People turn to film criticism because they're trying to decide whether or not to go see a certain film. It is your job to make that decision easier, not more difficult. The average film-goer could care less about minutiae that turns you on or off. That minutiae might even repel that person from seeing a movie you recommend! I'm fairly certain this Die Hard review was a thumbs-up, but I didn't realize it until after I removed your finger from my eye. Please, for the sake of the people who still go to the movies, be clear, take a stand, sit down, and shut up.

Adieu,
Stalks Muddily