The Cat’s Meowby Barb Lien-CooperReviews may contain information that could be considered 'spoilers'. Readers should proceed at their own risk. Studio
Credits Grade: 7 The Cat's Meow was the film that I most wanted to see at the South By Southwest Film Festival. I'm glad that I got to see the movie a month before it hit theatres, as I suspect it may become an art house hit.You have to feel sorry for Peter Bogdonovich. He was one of the hot directors of the 1970s, having pulled off three commercial successes in a row (Last Picture Show, What's Up Doc, Paper Moon). Now he's a name that makes most people say "Who?". He defeated himself by his own arrogance. The post-Paper Moon movies he directed were bad to slightly less bad, but never really good. F. Scott Fitzgerald said that there are no second acts in American lives. Robert Altman, another director from the 1970s that destroyed his career with too much indulgence and arrogance, proved Fitzgerald wrong by directing Gosford Park. I thought the movie was stolid and grossly over-rated, but it did make him a property again. If Bogdonovich is lucky, The Cat's Meow might do the same thing for him. In fact, if you liked Gosford Park, you have to see this movie. The Cat's Meow is a period piece that actually has a little life to it, as well as a little bitchiness and backbiting. The set up, which is based on fairly substantiated rumors concerning a mysterious tragedy that occurred in California in 1923: One weekend, a bunch of celebrities attend a party aboard William Randolph Hearst's yacht. Hearst's mistress, actress Marian Davies, plays the hostess with the mostest onboard the party ship, which isn't easy to do with Charlie Chaplin in hot pursuit. The people aboard fight each other, pursue each other, bait each other, con each other, and sleep with each other. Ultimately, one character is killed by another by mistake. The event is then covered up in a chillingly matter of fact fashion. It's fascinating to watch the dynamics of the actors. Sometimes you forget they're actors. Instead, you feel like you're eavesdropping on a swell party. If only the Chaplin character looked a bit more like Chaplin. He's a bit too tall, too hefty, and he's a bit lantern-jawed. The revelation of this incredible cast of actors, though, is Kirsten Dunst. We've all known the girl could act, but we've been waiting to see her in a role that really gives her something to get her teeth into. Dunst is one of the best screen embodiments of the flapper. Her Davies is witty, full of life, sexy without making an effort to be, smart without being intellectual, a bit shallow without being vapid, independent, etc. She is charming to the Nth degree. Dunst is the Fitzgerald era flapper here — so if anyone wants to, say, remake Gatsby, I know who'd make a perfect Daisy. The script is witty and well written, although it goes on a bit too much (I believe it was adapted from a stage play). I don't like the framing device of the funeral to tell the story, especially the end frame. The end framing story is especially unneeded. The direction, while good, is a tad slowly paced. You really don't notice, though, until after the murder. The movie needs about 15 minutes taken off of it. But, that's my only real complaint about it. All in all, a mainstream film for the people in the audience that want intelligent, mature American cinema to make a return to theatres. I'm definitely one of them. Written: April 22, 2002
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