Culture Snob's Misunderstood Blog-A-Thon! GIGLI (2003, dir. Martin Brest)

Disaster or the Norm?
Rethinking Hollywood's Biggest Bomb

A big fan of Culture Snob (due mostly to the Lady in the Water drunken commentary track) I decided to throw my hat into the proverbial ring for their Misunderstood Blog-a-Thon. After much deliberation I am going with Gigli, possibly the most hated and universally reviled film of the last 5 years. I had never seen it but thought a film that inspired that much animosity must be misunderstood to some extent. I (like most of you, my dear cinephiles) never bothered seeing the movie. Yet my sister and her husband have an ongoing theory that supposes there is a lot more to Gigli than what was originally panned. Let’s find out.

I know. I know! You're thinking, "Why in the fuck would you ever sit down and watch this movie?" First of all, let me make something clear. It's a bad movie. It's terrible. I'm not defending the movie. It's more that I am trying to understand what in God's name is going on and attempting to critique it in a serious way because no one else cares about it. And there isn't a more potent aphrodisiac in my book than something no one else wants.

The first interesting thing about the film. It doesn’t actually have a beginning. It plays immediately on your knowledge of other films specifically the neo-gangster movie. Rather than the usual first 15 minutes of exposition, the film is introduces some wild archetypes. We have a mob boss, a gomba shylock, a granola lesbian and a retarded kid. Exposition (i.e. the plot) doesn’t show up until 30 minutes into the movie in the form of Christopher Walken. Then basically completely disappears until 90 minutes in when it turns up in the form of Al Pacino. I found these two performances to be EXTREMELY post-modern. They are both playing ideas of themselves. They each have a single prop (Walken - coffee cup; Pacino - dead guy) and spout monologues that are essentially red herrings. There's no plot. No danger. No conflict. It's as if, at this point in American cinema, the simple presence of Walken or Pacino is indicative of plot and danger. Of course, it's not. But it's interesting that Brest thought this would work.

So the question is if the plot isn't important what is?

Well, apparently the characters but they are so broadly drawn and performed that it can't possibly be their individual pathos. So Brest must have had something larger to say. From the dialogue (all of which is shockingly self-indulgent and incoherent), I can piece together that a lot of what's at stake here is gender roles. The character of Gigli is a stereotypical alpha-male who is emasculated on a regular basis by everyone in the movie. The Lopez character is a lesbian and Brest goes extra lengths to make sure she's ultra-feminine and soft. In fact, her only aggressive moments are reduced to absurdly stifled monologues. As if Brest at the end of every take said "Great, Jennifer. Let's do it again with less anger." The goal must have been to create characters whose exteriors are in complete contrast to the interiors. Again, it doesn't work but it's a choice.

Here's what we've got so far: A plot that relies solely on your previous knowledge of other films reinforced by off-the-cuff cameos from actors who appeared in said films. Characters whose dramatic intentions rely solely on your own gender stereotypes and knowledge of cinematic romance tropes.

Ok... stay with me. The next interesting thing. The film seems to be completely unconcerned with the permanency of choices it makes. The retarded kid (played by a guy I think I went to college with) becomes less retarded as the runtime progesses. Lopez's lover slashes her wrists but there's no resolution to her endangering her life. Lopez may be a homosexual but her decision to consummate her relationship with Affleck is made swiftly and without any deliberation. This leads me to believe that we are not meant to be in reality. We are existing on some different plane of existence. Scenes like Affleck sawing off a thumb with a plastic knife and talking into a flashlight support this claim. So, that being said, we cannot take anything that happens as fact but rather as a representation of something in the real world meant to impart some kind of information to us. The music supports this as well as it will change in split-second to denote a new feeling that wasn't there before.

Now most big-budgeted films attempt to create a fake reality. Ones where the working class heroes can live in ridiculously expensive lofts (for example). But none are so blatantly obvious and inconsistent about it. Which makes me feel like it's deliberate. So add this to what we've already concluded and...

Gigli almost single-handedly encapsulates the inadequacy of Hollywood story-telling. It emulates every aspect of what has become the norm. But it exaggerates those flaws to the Nth degree. Every story leans on the crutch of films you've already seen. Plot has become more of a decorative aspect; garnishing certain scenes with over-acting Oscar winners. At the center are two over-exposed celebrities playing cookie-cutter stereotypes who resolve their feelings of inadequacy by sleeping with each other despite the fact the every exterior circumstance dictates this is a bad idea. I'm going to pose a pretty bold question here...

Isn't every Hollywood movie like this?

I'll say it again, isn't EVERY Hollywood movie like this?

Just saying. Gigli is more balls-out and perhaps aware of its awfulness. What if that was the point? Just a wild hypothesis that Gigli is more than what it seems. And it kind of tickles me to think that Brest knew what he was doing and is sitting in Malibu laughing to himself; living off the residuals from licensing Scent of a Woman to TV.

Consider this... The title of the film is Gigli. Rhymes with "really?"