Drum Media reviews: THE ADJUSTMENT BUREAU and WAGNER & ME

THE ADJUSTMENT BUREAU

The Adjustment Bureau is, like Next and Paycheck (unflattering title alert!), another Philip K Dick adaptation that renders PKD’s nifty ideas bracingly un-nifty; the kind of film that feels like it stars latter-day Nicolas Cage even though it doesn’t. It imagines a world in which our protagonist’s (Maatt Daammonn) every move is controlled by a sharply dressed, fedora’d bureaucracy (incl. Terence Stamp and Mad Men’s John Slattery) who exist in a parallel universe but have members who operate in the real world, and who occasionally fuck up like people in the real world, like one dude who falls asleep at the wheel and misses his cue to deliberately-accidentally spill coffee on Maatt Daammonn’s shirt, which allows Maatt Daammonn to reunite with the girl of his dreams (ravishing Emily Blunt) but also means he has to let go of her, thus restoring order to the universe.

Or something like that. Fortunately, the members of this adjustment bureau are able to regularly the explain the rules of this world, Inception-style, to Maatt Daammonn & us. This takes place in time-out sessions that could be replaced with text scrolling down a blank screen, in no way to lesser effect.

The film has all the makings of a wry bureaucracy satire, ala Brazil, but first-time director George Nolfi opts for bland solemnity, turning the thing into another Time Traveller’s Wife/Lake House-style sci-fi romance, where we discover whether or not love can transcend this heightened vision of fate. More interesting is the meta-fictional aspect: what adjustments were made so the final product would appeal to the date-night demographic?

Originally published Drum Media Issue 1049, p61 (Flipbook)

WAGNER & ME

Wagner & Me is a personal journey through the life and times of legendary composer Richard Wagner, by the delightful Stephen Fry. Fry visits an itinerary of important European locations in Wagner’s life, and proves to be a formidable tour guide, displaying a contagious enthusiasm for his subject’s art. Fans of Wagner and Fry are likely to appreciate this doco more than the casual viewer; its sole reason for a theatrical release is seemingly the opportunity for fans to hear Wagner in theatre surround sound. And to a lesser extent, for Stephen Fry fans to bask in the sight and sound of a king-size Stephen Fry.

The key area of conflict, amidst a film that’ll leave Wagner’s non-fans in the dark, is provided by the tack of Wagner’s anti-semitism, and accordingly, the utilisation of his music for Nazi purposes. Fry – a man of Jewish heritage –repeatedly concludes that however much one appreciates Wagner’s art, it’s inextricably linked its historical baggage, and on a more insidious level, Wagner’s own personal ideology. These ideas are introduced early on but never really expanded upon, adding to the padded-out feel of the film.

Aptly enough, Wagner’s elephantine compositions were once uncharitably described by Italian composer Gioachino Rossini as containing “great moments , but dull quarter hours”. The same could be said of this film, which is amiable and engrossing in fits and starts, but numbingly repetitive in its insights and structure. Unless you’re a diehard – or you’re in need of a big-screen European travelogue – wait for its inevitable ABC premiere.

Originally published Drum Media Issue 1049, p61 (Flipbook)