Kelly WandRobert De Niro's Waiting
August 26th 2006 01:36
Given his recent run of alleged re-invention comedies, De Niro seems - to mix a metaphor or three - to now wear the role of a sitting duck wearing a mod target t-shirt in a barrel. The gun is loaded but I’m telling myself “don’t shoot!” This target is too easy. Be fair. Play nice. These days, even his most ardent fans now talk about how this guy used to be great. How, ala Raging Bull, he used to be a contender. The consensus runs something like “Man, you used to be beautiful. What happened to you?”
When? When was he beautiful?
Raging Bull? How the critics love that one. De Niro trained to be a boxer and then - by eating his way through a large part of the Italian countryside, no carb left unswallowed - turned himself into a big fat blob for later scenes. Let us marvel at his dedication. A modern day Godzilla. Imagine how hard it must be for a middle aged man to start wearing his excess hamburgers on his belly for all to see. Let me look out the window and count off the multiple potential academy award winners in the category of gross obesity. Acting talent is not something absorbed through the consumption of a twenty three course meal. At least Gwyneth Paltrow merely put on a suit and acted as if she was fat in Shallow Hal. One could argue, therefore, that her performance was much more Oscar worthy - but, please, let’s not. (I almost forgot I was talking about Gwyneth Paltrow for a minute.) As for De Niro’s much vaunted skills as a boxer, give me a break.
Even such renowned WWE thespians as Hulk Hogan and The Rock put in a better performance in the squared circle. At least there are some fans out there who, after seeing those two man mountains perform, will argue that wrestling is not faked. De Niro does a good job of prowling around the edge of the ring but - then again - a fair bit of that power comes from the slow motion photography and the operatic score. When he moves in for the punch, his credibility is the only thing taking a dive. He actually looks like he’d lose out in a contest with the proverbial wet paper bag.
If, for example, you’d have put him into a ring with fellow cinematic pugalist Sly Stallone, poor little Bobby would have had the living shit kicked out of him from here to next Tuesday. Of course, nobody would use that clearly obvious fact as a reason to tell you that Sly Stallone was a better actor. I, for one, would never want to start that particular band wagon rolling. Rather, my point is this. De Niro’s method man fighting skills look - even within the context of such a testosterone driven fantasy - more than a little ridiculous.
If you want to see acting, look around at someone like Johnny Depp. If you can excuse an aberration like Secret Window, you see a man leap into an assortment of roles. You know that, whilst this guy still chomps scenery for breakfast, he still effortlessly creates a rogue’s gallery of characters from different backgrounds and periods. This is what we purists like to call acting. Of course, another major thing in Johnny’s favour is that he is at least pleasing to the eye. Bobby De Niro is no oil painting - unless the oil has been allowed to run like something out of Dali. Even in his younger days, women would have needed several very large vats of stiff drink before they could of even considered touching him. In addition, any chance that he would have had of getting beyond first base would have still required that he wear several large paper bags over his head. Very thick paper bags. Strong bags. Tough. Untearable.
Ideally, some level of sound proofing would not go amiss. Are you talking to me? Good. I can’t hear you.
But I shouldn’t stoop to such levels as appearance, especially when there are so many more targets to take aim at. Let’s talk acting. Robert De Niro brings all his identical tics, mannerisms and pauses to bear in every single role he plays. Where is his legendary range? There is no question that he can play the snarling psychopath, the psychopathic mobster and the inept wannabe snarling mobster psychopath. If at all possible, he demands a final script rewrite where the wannabe snarling mobster psychopath was also - get this - a Vietnam veteran. Unfortunately for him, Joe Pesci is also on the look out for these roles these days and Joe is so much scarier.
Consider this. Would you find De Niro believable in the role of brilliant surgeon or a humble shoe maker? In Analyse This, could you have imagined him playing the psychiatrist? In “Rocky and Bullwinkle” would you have cast him as the moose? The Squirrel? I know. The evil psychopathic megalomaniac? Now we’re talking. The question is, how many of these limitations can be put down to simple type casting and how many come down to the fact that this guy can’t play anyone else apart from who he really is? Even good friend Scorsese didn’t think to cast him as Jesus in “The Last Temptation of Christ.” Hmmm. I wonder why. I guess it was because Christ would have looked pretty stupid nailed to a tree screaming “Hey, God! There’s nobody else here.”
Some actors claim to build their characters out of clothes or shoes. In Casino, watch De Niro play Robert De Niro in a pair of salmon coloured loafers. Later on, to demonstrate the character’s story arc, he dons a pair of oversized spectacles. He must have felt cheated out of the academy award for that mighty display of acting chops. Wire me a cheque and I’ll phone in my performance later.
Alternatively, look at legendary tough guy Humphrey Bogart. He was no prettier than De Niro but he had no trouble pulling off the romantic lead in Casablanca. Try to imagine De Niro doing the romantic hero. Oh, wait. He tried it in “New York, New York”. Well, sort of. That was him telling Liza Minnelli “Look at you, you look disgusting. Did I tell you to have that fu... that goddamn baby.”
Sure... that’s what the script demanded. But it seems these are the scripts he demands. I can’t think of one film where he really likes women. He gets infatuated but he’s too inadequate to make a real connection. He has to beat, rape or abuse them. Maybe - and this is a fairly radical idea - he could have been a little more picky with the scripts he chose. He could use his talents for good. Then again, he got an academy award his disgusting attitude to women in Raging Bull - so you can’t see him complaining. In that little gem, De Niro’s performances would have us believe that the true victim of spousal abuse is the perpetrator. He smacks her around and demands we feel sorry for him. Some people will tell you that it’s very hard being a man. There’s so much loathing and self pity to wade through.
But let us go straight to the well from which the legend sprung. Taxi Driver. Writer Paul Schrader admits he wrote this epic whilst sleeping in a car, obsessing over guns and masturbating to pornography. This script is thus a work of therapy and maybe De Niro thought a little bathing in macho filth might be redemptive. He might have taken the opportunity to exorcise some inner demons. What a pity that, in the wake of critical acclaim, he never made the effort to leave the mud pool. A wiser man might have taken the opportunity to attach his name to a different kind of project that didn’t invite the decline into a vicious circle of near identical acting jobs. It would seem he just lacked the vision.
Even in his career defining role as Travis Bickle, his performance is all over the place. One minute he’s playing it straight and the next he is hamming it up as black comedy. His scenes with Cybil Shepherd are beyond cringeworthy. Paul Schrader says the point of the “date at the porno theatre” scene was to suggest the self destructive side of Bickle’s nature. If De Niro hadn’t played the scene like he was Robin William’s long lost brother, that excuse might have even been believable. Instead, we are treated to another Homer Simpsonesque “D’oh, ain’t I stupid.” New York humour circa 1975. How sophisticated.
A lot of people complained about the shoot out finale of Taxi Driver but it is what follows that demands the burning of all prints and negatives. The film ends with five minutes pulled out of what surely must have been a different movie all together. This tagged on ending isn’t really De Niro’s fault but it is so awful that I have to blame someone. Anyone.
As both Scorsese and Schrader have produced better work over the years that go someway to absolving their earlier crimes, I’ll give them a pass this time. De Niro hasn’t made a decent film since “Once Upon a Time in America” and he’s even spoiled that by overusing the innovations he bought to bear in that role. Wait a minute! What am I saying? I take that all back. I just remembered he played (surprise, surprise) rapist scumbag in that one too. So much for giving the man one nice word by way of consolation. First impressions never lie.
Why am I so angry with this guy? You know what it is? The thing that provoked me to write this diatribe was that I just saw some cinema preview of a new animated fish movie where De Niro once again wants to know who you are talking to. Could someone please make this man an offer he can’t refuse.
Retire!
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