Affairs run amok in this film about a celebrity cruise gone bad. [PG-13]
By: Elise Nakhnikian
From left: Edward Herrmann, Kirsten Dunst, Eddie Izzard and Joanna Lumley portray real-life celebrities in Peter Bogdanovich’s The Cat’s Meow.
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Toward the end of The Cat’s Meow, aspiring columnist Louella Parsons (Jennifer Tilly) admits that she’s been "kind of obvious" during the weekend cruise that’s about to come to an abrupt end. And so she has, literally falling on her face as she labors to fit in with the cool crowd. But she’s hardly the only one semaphoring her intentions like a ship in distress in this heavy-handed movie.
A fictionalized version of a historical event, The Cat’s Meow starts with a juicy premise. The known facts are these: In November 1924, aging media magnate William Randolph Hearst took a number of Hollywood celebrities, including his young mistress, actress Marion Davies, on a cruise to celebrate the birthday of fading studio magnate Thomas Ince. Ince died either during or just after the journey.
After reporting that Ince had stomach trouble, Hearst squelched most of the details, including just who was on the boat (Parsons may not have been one of the passengers). The media and the Hollywood rumor mill churned out theories to fill in the gaps, one of which is played out here by writer Steven Peros and director Peter Bogdanovich.
In this version, Charlie Chaplin, another of Hearst’s guests, has been trying to convince Davies to leave Hearst for him. Loyal to Hearst, Davies is resisting the narcissistic Chaplin, but she’s on the verge of being seduced.
Hearst (Edward Herrmann), a manipulative tyrant whose icy heart melts only for Davies, is terrified of losing her love. He invites Chaplin aboard to test the rumors about their affair, then monitors the two obsessively through the microphones and peepholes hidden throughout the yacht.
Meanwhile, Ince (Cary Elwes) decides to gain Hearst’s confidence by telling him about the affair between Chaplin and Davies, offering to "keep an eye" on the actress for Hearst when he’s back home with his wife. Inflamed by a love letter Ince retrieved from Chaplin’s wastebasket, Hearst crosses the line from paranoia to madness.
The crumpled letters and peepholes are shown more than once, in case we didn’t notice them the first time. But once would have been more than enough, since Chaplin’s courtship of Davies is anything but subtle. The problem begins with the script, which has Chaplin ogling and groping Davies in crowded rooms. But it’s compounded by the casting of the beefy Eddie Izzard, who nails the Little Tramp’s smug self-regard and soulful dark eyes but is far too stolid to capture the willowy Chaplin’s fey appeal.
As the famously playful Davies, Kirsten Dunst comes across as childishly bubbly and bouncy. Davies reportedly loved to play the clown but was far from stupid. Perhaps Dunst, who is also an intelligent and thoughtful actress, wanted to emphasize the distance between the woman and her persona.
But she overdoes the ditziness, making Davies appear merely callow except when she’s frightened or sad.
Only Joanna Lumley as novelist Elinor Glyn, the movie’s narrator, transcends the expository script to convey sophistication and intelligence. Lumley uses the dry diction she perfected as the dissolute Patsy on BBC-TV’s Absolutely Fabulous to pull off even her most obvious lines. In her clipped syllables, Glyn’s theory that Hollywood is an "evil wizard" who makes people forget "the land of their birth, the purpose of their journey, and the principles they once held dear" sounds almost profound. And when she has better material, artfully snubbing the painfully gauche Parsons or assuring Davies that Chaplin is "only capable of a monogamous relationship with his own movies," Lumley gives us a glimpse of the wit and glamour that presumably animated this crowd and could have animated this earnest, two-dimensional movie.
Bogdanovich is capable of greatness. An actor himself, who is probably best known for his recurring role as Dr. Melfi’s psychiatrist on The Sopranos, he has elicited Oscar-winning performances from other actors. His best movies The Last Picture Show, Paper Moon and Mask were compelling character-driven dramas. But just as Bogdanovich has become something of a caricature of his younger self, with his oversized dark glasses, neck scarf and name-dropping tales of dead masters, his latest movie is a pale imitation of his best work.
The Cat’s Meow leans so heavily on the malice aboard Hearst’s luxurious yacht that it captures none of the magic. The cabins look dark and airless. Half the characters are underdeveloped to the point of anorexia, and the guests look more desperate than debonair as they bob up and down to the Charleston. Even before tragedy strikes, this cruise is a lot less fun than it ought to be.
Unfortunately, so is the movie.
Rated PG-13. Contains sexuality, some violence, and drug use.