New Review! BOBBY (2006, dir. Emilio Estevez)

A surprisingly personal ensemble piece that centers around the interwoven relationships of several employees and guests at the Ambassador Hotel the night Bobby Kennedy was murdered. Though the piece smells a bit like Crash but, you know, in a hotel, there is a major distinction between last year's dubious Best Picture winner and this emotional directorial debut from Mighty Ducks alum Estevez. Bobby has a swollen beating heart. It's deeply humanist even if it's not wholly satisfying as a narrative. One may enjoy this pastiche of hope in the face of struggle if you can forgive its overt sentimentality.

It's not a bad idea. Indulge in the individual soap operas of a dozen or so different archetypes, achieve a tentative equilibrium and then smash it to bits with a meaningless and tragic act of violence. Bobby is not so much a historical drama as it is a drama of ideals. The purpose of the film is not to accurately portray realism but to lull you into a sort of pacified state where human error is virtually deified. Estevez's objective is that you succumb to Bobby Kennedy's point of view so that you can fully understand the loss of the ideals that practically died with him. As a first time director, Estevez does this well. His camera caresses the actors into giving tender performances. The scenes are edited economically. And once the film takes its inevitable turn towards its bloody finish, the dread is palable.

However, that being said, Bobby is a bit amateurish. There isn't much dynamic force to counteract the fluff. It lacks the edge a story as ambitious as this one needs in order to succeed. Only a couple of scenes give you a taste of what Bobby could have been. And both of them, though I loathe to say it, involve Sharon Stone (*shudder*). The first, when Demi Moore as a hopeless drunk, unceremoniously professes that she and Stone, the hotel's stylist, don't even have the shelf-life of twinkies. "We're melting ice cream cones," she slurs as her eyes attempt to stay focused on Stone's reflection in the salon mirror. Stone's reaction is a blink-and-you'll-miss-it flinch under heavy make-up she's much too old to be wearing. The second is when Stone snips the hair of her unfaithful husband, William H. Macy. It perfectly encapsulates the dangerous disappointment of betrayal.

In those moments and when Estevez expertly melds archival footage of Bobby Kennedy with the footage of his actors, the film comes very close to greatness. But I'm afraid Bobby is content with being a solid "good". I would enourage the cynics out there to see it as it may, in the end, melt the judgement you thrust against it. But also because it's worth seeing some young actors FINALLY turn in some good performances. Lindsay Lohan gets a chance to channel her little-girl-lost vulnerability. Shia LaBeouf displays impressive comic timing. Joshua Jackson shows up with a leading man swagger and an Affleck bloat to match. Nick Cannon bottles some actual rage. Even Ashton Kutcher manages a healthy serving of wit instead of the usual ham.

But the star of the film is also the title character. I have to admit that it was truly a moving experience to hear Kennedy's speech over the hysteria of the last scene. Some may interpret it as manipulative but I would defend Estevez's choice. It's a profound event when a man, any man, falls victim to the injustice he was dedicated to reforming. There's something unmistakably noble about it. Bobby Kennedy deserves his own Camelot, I suppose, and Emilio Estevez (of all people) constructs one for him. It may not be palatial but its a wonderland all the same.

BOTTOM LINE: A nice antidote for those feeling beaten up by Borat and not hyped up for another Bond.