Bandits

Curious, curious, curious.

Just plain curious.

Barry Levinson, an award-winning director and screenwriter who cut his teeth (figuratively and literally, in some cases) writing for the likes of Mel Brooks, who established himself as a solid director of drama and comedy with such films, respectively, as "Diner" and "Rain Man", who has shown again and again his ability to move from one genre to another--"Good Morning, Vietnam", and "Avalon"--and back again, who has demonstrated his ability to understand, comprehend and jab playful at such rich man hobbies as politics--"Wag The Dog", has reached a point in his career where, understandably, he wants to try new things.

So why, then, did he choose material that does not allow him to stretch his directorial wings--"Bandits"?

Curious.

Curious, curious, curious.

Just plain curious.

Understand: Superficially "Bandits" is a funny movie in a decidedly cultish way and manner. But with Barry Levinson at the helm, certain elements and aspects of the premise are forced. Painfully forced--the casting of Bruce Willis, for one. The blatant effort to make "Bandits" a whimsical and coy take on something like "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid". The identity crisis the movie has constantly--is it a comedy or not?

I wonder: Did Levinson really commit to directing this movie or did he agree to ride the helm as director with the knowledge doing so would allow him, in the future, to direct something he wants to direct? There is far too much evidence to suggest otherwise. There is far too much evidence on the screen he did not actually commit himself to directing duties here. Consequently the movie itself does not commit to what it is and what it wants in response.

I digress. Bruce Willis and Billy Bob Thornton star as the most famous bank robbers in America; Cate Blanchett is Kate, the rich man's wife who starts out as a hostage for the robbers, but ends becoming, well, their hostage, their friend, their legacy (of sorts; why else did she marry the sod she did?).

Thornton may very well be the saving grace to this otherwise dismal effort. The character of Terry is something he really has not attempted previously and here he does comedy in such a way you wonder: Why doesn't he do more comedy? Obviously he knows how to pull it off: Terry is sensitive and cute, neurotic and paranoid, intelligent but thick as a brick and twice as dumb; he is lactose intolerant, he has a ringing in his ears, he suffers (so he says, anyway) from psychosomatic paralysis, he has a phobia about--well, let's just this is classic Woody Allen terrority, this phobia.

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