Rated PG-13 - Running Time: 1:56 - Released 9/12/03
MATCHSTICK MEN
Rated PG-13 - Running Time: 1:56 - Released 9/12/03
Matchstick Men is the latest from director Ridley Scott,
who has given us such memorable products as Alien, Legend,
Bladerunner, and more recently, Gladiator
and Black Hawk Down. Like
those, this film is distinguished by impressive visuals and a
brisk pace, but frankly, with his talent and that of his cast
(Nicolas Cage, Sam Rockwell, and Alison Lohman), I would have
expected better. Matchstick Men isn’t bad; it’s
just average, but when you’ve built a reputation for excellence,
sometimes average is a bit of a disappointment. Anyway the fault
here lies mostly with writers Ted Griffin (Ocean’s
Eleven) and his brother Nicholas, who together adapted
the screenplay from the novel by Eric Garcia. Garcia’s story
is reasonably clever and quirky, if a bit implausible, but the
Griffins’ screenplay seems to overemphasize the implausibility
and downplay the cleverness, forcing the actors to say and do
things that emit just the slightest hint of rat odor far too early
for the film’s own good. Smelling a rat is perfectly proper
for a con caper movie like this, where one isn’t supposed
to know who is conning whom until the final reel, but things aren’t
supposed to get really ratalicious until late in the film’s
second half.
Cage plays Roy Waller, a con man from Los Angeles whose method
of ripping people off (a combination of telemarketing fraud and
door-to-door swindling) wouldn’t be all that notable were
it not for the fact that he suffers from agoraphobia, obsessive/compulsive
disorder, and what seems to be a mild form of Tourette’s
syndrome, all of which cause him to have a need for extreme order
in his life lest he begin twitching, winking, and/or grunting
uncontrollably. His ability to hold it together while bilking
a retirement-aged couple out of their money, in the midst of such
crippling confidence-breakers as floating dust particles, filthy
pets, and soiled shoes being allowed to touch the floor, is mainly
thanks to two things: the undying support of his partner, Frank
Mercer (Rockwell), and the pills supplied to him by his psychiatrist
(Bruce Altman). During several of his twitchy therapy sessions,
we learn that Roy is 14 years divorced and may or may not have
a child out there somewhere. His treatment is soon put to the
test when a teenage girl named Angela (Lohman) appears, not only
claiming to be his long-lost daughter, but asking if she can stay
with him for a while as she and her mother have had a falling
out. This of course has a mind-blowing effect on Roy, since her
casual habits undermine his carefully ordered routine and besmirch
his painfully immaculate suburban home. Things are further complicated
when Angela, a talented grifter herself, learns about the big
con Roy and Frank are about to pull on a wealthy snob (Bruce McGill),
and asks if she can help out.
There’s a lot of fake laughing and fake crying in this
movie, and not all of it is supposed to be fake; director Scott
should have done something about this, but he is known more for
shotmaking than interpersonal relationships. Lohman, who was astounding
in White Oleander, is
clearly struggling with the text; her delivery is as believable
as she can manage it but the faulty dialogue makes it difficult
for her. Cage’s neurotic affectations are fascinating to
watch, but he too is burdened with unrealistic wordplay and a
sometimes laughably simplistic story line. Rockwell, meanwhile,
is the only one who shines throughout, but that may be only because
he is underused. His charisma is sorely missed during the central
portion of the film during which Roy and Angela are having their
long, awkward bonding session.
Matchstick Men is ultimately a slightly tarnished treasure; with the combined talent of its production team, it could have been great, but because of its clumsy writing style it has to settle for just being good. ***½
