Joel Schumacher’s new
thriller, Phone Booth, illustrates
once again the weird and ambiguous relationship between popular cinema and its
temporal context. Originally scheduled for release many months ago, the picture
disappeared, at least for a while, until the manhunt for the Washington,
D.C.-area sniper ended with the apprehension of the suspects. The distributors
apparently believed, with some justification, that a movie about a sniper might
verge on bad taste and might well disturb a great many people.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย With an almost comical efficiency,
however, now that the headlines no longer scream of a random and inexplicable
terrorism, and the tension has abated, the formerly touchy product now appears.
It’s no longer quite so threatening a reflection of reality, no longer quite so
inadvertently immediate, yet somehow the picture probably derives at least a
little benefit from recent history and the fickle public memory.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Phone
Booth establishes an ingenious — perhaps too ingenious — sniper
situation, in which a highly skilled gunman engages in the extended torment of
a victim and the police. Through the sort of electronic expertise that abounds
in movies, the sniper (Kiefer Sutherland, as a disembodied voice on the
telephone) discovers the dirty little secrets of a sleazy publicist for showbiz
small-timers, played by Colin Farrell. Using the threat of a high-powered rifle
with a telescopic sight and a laser aiming device, he pins Farrell in a
Manhattan phone booth and promises to kill him, his wife, his girlfriend, and
anyone else who strikes his fancy, unless Farrell publicly confesses his sins.
After some initial disbelief and a good deal of sparring, the publicist comes
to believe the rifleman, who convinces him by shooting another man who wants to
use the booth.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย The movie soon resolves itself into
a long cat-and-mouse game, with the sniper taunting, menacing, and humiliating
Farrell, who degenerates in the process from a defiant wise-ass to a quivering
mass of jelly. To maintain interest in the essentially static situation and
constricted frame, the director employs enough visual diversity to delight even
the artiest film buff — quick cuts, racking focus from closeups to long
shots, varying film speed, inserts, split screens, multiple images, etc., etc.
When half the NYPD arrives, along with the SWAT team, the wife, the girlfriend,
hundreds of spectators, and, of course, all the TV networks, the movie takes on
some minor subplots — and now and then, as when a gaggle of hookers wants to
use the booth, some raunchy humor.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย The picture achieves its best
moments through the varied camera work and the generally competent performance
of Colin Farrell, who once again displays a mastery of American accents. He
argues, cajoles, curses, trembles, weeps, sweats, and whines in all keys
throughout the length of the film. However, this ultimately makes his character
so tiresome that when an audience member rudely shouted out, “Just shoot him!”
I was inclined to agree. Forest Whitaker helps out now and then as a detective
with his own issues, as he puts it, which allow him to understand the plight of
the man in the booth.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย The script makes a few attempts to
suggest some meaning in the ubiquity of the telephone in contemporary life: its
susceptibility to eavesdropping, its role as a conveyor of insincerity and
falsehood, its paradoxical tendency to isolate and alienate, its ability to
enslave its users. Phone Booth also,
however, displays a silly and juvenile concept of theme in its portrayal of the
sniper as some sort of avenging angel out to punish evildoers.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย The sniper informs his victim that
he has already chalked up a German porn czar and a rapacious CEO on his
scorecard (both deserving targets), which hardly explains his fixation on
Farrell. He forces the man to confess to his wife, the cops, the spectators,
and the vast television audience that he’s a phony (there’s quite a lot of that
around), that he wears fake Italian suits and a knockoff watch (oh, please!),
and desires other women (goodness, even Jimmy Carter admitted to that). All
those horrible “crimes” hardly qualify the man as some great sinner deserving a
terrible punishment.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Phone
Booth at times resembles something like a vehicle for Colin Farrell, who’s
hot these days, allowing him a whole movie and a claustrophobic set to strut
his stuff. At other moments, it tends to look like some Hollywood high-concept
flick — say, The Sweet Smell of Success meets Dog Day Afternoon. Its central
performance and its dazzling camera work now and then suggest something of a tour de force, but unfortunately, the
intellectual and emotional content of the script cannot match the inventiveness
of its images.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย The picture might finally resolve
into another telephone movie: Sorry,
Wrong Number.
Phone Booth,
starring Colin Farrell, Kiefer Sutherland, Forest Whitaker, Radha Mitchell,
Katie Holmes, Paula Jai Parker, Arian Waring Ash; written by Larry Cohen;
directed by Joel Schumacher. Cinemark Tinseltown; Hoyts Greece Ridge; Loews
Webster; Pittsford Plaza Cinema; Regal Culver Ridge; Regal Eastview; Regal
Henrietta.
You can hear George and his movie reviews on WXXI-FM 91.5
Fridays at 7:15 a.m., rerun on Saturdays at 11:15 a.m.
This article appears in Apr 9-15, 2003.
