Gerry
Gus Van Sant "returns to his indie roots" with Gerry, a film starring Matt
Damon and Casey Affleck. Notice the statement above is surrounded in
quotes. That quote is generally followed a few sentences later by some
prose comparing Gerry to The Blair Witch Project, Waiting for Godot,
or even an Ansel Adams photo. Unfortunately, what these reviewers often
forget to tell you is that Gerry nicks the bad parts of these films
without adding anything good back into the void.
Gerry has a simple plot: Two pretty boys go for a hike in the desert to see "the thing," decide there are too many people on the trail and come up with the brilliant idea to leave the trail and make their own route. Now, as they veer off the trail you think to yourself that no sane human would ever think to do this, or that these two actors are better suited for the plaid carpeting of Abercrombie & Fitch as opposed to the desert trails of the southwest. Obviously, the two simpletons get lost and then we get to follow them around for the next 103 minutes.
The real problem with this film isn't that it never goes anywhere; it's a "high concept" art film and we are supposed to suck it up and accept the fact that the director can fuck with us as he pleases. No, the problem is that in the 103 minutes that Mr. Van Sant takes going nowhere he also fails to present anything provoking or compelling, and instead, much like Ansel Adams, takes some amazingly beautiful shots of the southwestern US that any joker with his mom's miniDV cam could have taken.
The film holds interest for about an hour, but after that passes I found myself wishing for the main characters to die. Do yourself a favor and pass on this one when your hipster indie-film friend suggests it. If I haven't managed to dissuade you yet, do yourself a favor and view the short cut of the film (a.k.a. the trailer). -
Gerry has a simple plot: Two pretty boys go for a hike in the desert to see "the thing," decide there are too many people on the trail and come up with the brilliant idea to leave the trail and make their own route. Now, as they veer off the trail you think to yourself that no sane human would ever think to do this, or that these two actors are better suited for the plaid carpeting of Abercrombie & Fitch as opposed to the desert trails of the southwest. Obviously, the two simpletons get lost and then we get to follow them around for the next 103 minutes.
The real problem with this film isn't that it never goes anywhere; it's a "high concept" art film and we are supposed to suck it up and accept the fact that the director can fuck with us as he pleases. No, the problem is that in the 103 minutes that Mr. Van Sant takes going nowhere he also fails to present anything provoking or compelling, and instead, much like Ansel Adams, takes some amazingly beautiful shots of the southwestern US that any joker with his mom's miniDV cam could have taken.
The film holds interest for about an hour, but after that passes I found myself wishing for the main characters to die. Do yourself a favor and pass on this one when your hipster indie-film friend suggests it. If I haven't managed to dissuade you yet, do yourself a favor and view the short cut of the film (a.k.a. the trailer). -
