If you see only one set of opening
credits this year, make it the credits of Napoleon Dynamite. If you want to
stay for the film, go ahead, but you’ve already seen the best of what the movie
has to offer — especially if you’ve seen the trailer, which doesn’t show the
best parts so much as a representative sampling of a very limited offering.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย As
someone who doesn’t mind indulging in a little ’80s nostalgia, I found the
credits exciting, almost, as they made it seem like the movie might pursue the
idiosyncratic effluvia of that period with a realistic detail that you don’t
usually get from period films. In movies like The Virgin Suicides, period objects picked up at the prop house are
simply placed in the frame in a calculated fashion, and one doesn’t get a true
sense of the time, or of a reality. Napoleon appears to take place in the current day, but 98 percent of the world the
characters inhabit appears to have been scavenged from a thrift shop
specializing in the ’80s, and this time by the characters themselves.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย It’s
too bad director Jared Hess didn’t just go all the way and set the film in that
time, as excavating the period is all he has on his mind. The titular creation
is a one-joke gag, a geek whose two modes are wincing intensity and seething
frustration, and who has a “Pegasus crossing” sign on his door. Once that is
established, that’s it. Things happen, but they don’t matter. The point is the
spectacle of Napoleon and his similarly oddball family, delivered with a
purported affection that feels vaguely contemptuous (certainly in the vicious
spoofing of a black character’s name, and its “black” spelling).
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย The
Dynamite clan (assuming that is his given name; the film takes place in a world
where these distinctions are not quite relevant) is derivative of Daniel
Clowes’ take on the human race in his Eightball comics, but only on the most superficial level, without the depth of
observation or the honesty of open contempt. Napoleon just skids along like an 80-minute SNL skit, albeit one much cooler and funnier. Trapper Keepers and
tater tots probably made a great basis for a short (Napoleon‘s origins), but apparently fall a little short as the meat
of a feature.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย If
Napoleon failed my expectations, it’s
at least thoroughly watchable. Coffee and Cigarettes, Jim
Jarmusch’s collection of related shorts shot over almost two decades, is far
more disappointing. A scattered array of cool celebrities are paired off in
conversation with each other over the vices of the title, and the scattershot
results are lined up and projected.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Three
of the shorts are quite enjoyable, and a few are agreeable enough, but half
involve middling, fruitless scenarios that beggar belief. Jarmusch’s usual ease
with deadpan charm fails him too often, leaving something stilted and lame. And
when earlier conversations become echoed in new ones, the effect is less of
continuity than of desperate recycling, especially when it’s one of the better
segments being cannibalized.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย That
short, in which Iggy Pop is endearing as meek counterpoint to Tom Waits’
cantankerousness, is the kind of thing that makes me glad I saw the film. But
there’s a lot to slog through for those minor moments. I expected Coffee to be light, but I also expected
it to be fun, and it isn’t quite that.
— Andy Davis
This article appears in Jul 7-13, 2004.
