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Welcome to the Brad Pitt School of Acting

FILM

By Soman S. Chainani, CRIMSON STAFF WRITER

Time's up. Show's over. Someone please call the acting police on Brad Pitt.

No actor or actress has had the amazing breadth of roles that Pitt has had--and yet managed to do so little with them. Sure, give him a scenery-chewing, obnoxious kook role (Twelve Monkeys) and he might be impressive, but try giving him a role that isn't just based on the lines--something that requires interpretation--and watch him flail.

We first found out that Brad Pitt couldn't carry a movie by himself when his icy reserve barely registered in Seven Years in Tibet. Content to simply smile and run his fingers through his prized golden hair, he became cinematic wallpaper, devoid of character.

The much hyped Meet Joe Black simply confirms our suspicions, giving us more of Pitt's "I-am-beautiful" campaign in an overindulgent $90 million romantic "epic." The film, interestingly enough, is directed by Martin Brest--the same man who in 1992 gave us the charming drama Scent of a Woman. But where Woman had Al Pacino at the helm and young Chris O'Donnell in the eagerbeaver supporting role, Meet Joe Black reverses this buddy-buddy formula. Here, Anthony Hopkins is demoted to a supporting role and Pitt becomes the leading man. This odd conception of the roles proves fatal: Pitt can't carry the burden and Hopkins can only pick up after him so many times.

The actual premise of Meet Joe Black, however, is fascinating and wonderfully profound. Pitt first appears as an agreeable, ill-fated newcomer to New York City who hits on medical resident Susan Parrish (Claire Forlani) in a coffee shop. Soon after leaving the shop, he is killed by an out-of-control car (the death is so overwhelmingly violent that you have to laugh). It turns out that Death himself has orchestrated Mr. Pitt's death so he can inhabit the young man's body. He next approaches communications tycoon William Parrish (Anthony Hopkins), Susan's father, and convinces him to be his guide on Earth in exchange for a postponed death.

Joe's body, however, is simply a shell. He is constantly awkward; whether it's trying to make conversation, eating or even walking--Joe just doesn't seem smooth. Somehow, however, he manages to charm Susan again, who strangely accepts the fact that the random man from the coffee shop has taken residence in her house and suddenly forgotten how to speak English. Moreover, she manages to flirt her way into a full-fledged romance, one consummated by a sex scene so uncomfortable that it's more nauseating than erotic.

Though the script itself is painfully hackneyed, Pitt just seems to have no clue. Death is such an abstract type of role that he can basically do anything; all that is required is a consistent, believable interpretation (like Thandie Newton's remarkable performance in the recent Beloved). Unfortunately, Pitt isn't a natural comedian, he doesn't have much range, and he has problems creating a coherent character. One moment Joe is ridiculously inept; the next an almighty deity. For example, he comes to Earth having no idea what peanut butter is--he literally probes the jar for minutes and waxes poetic over the gooey sweetness. Later in the movie, however, he offers his own perspective on the IRS and denounces a fellow character's "Machiavellian machinations." Fast learner?

Moreover, Pitt simply doesn't have enough expressions to warrant the number of close-ups he gets. The camera is literally in love with his face--it captures every pore in an effort to prove just how godly he is. Instead of taking advantage of the chance to react to each statement and give us subtle clues to his character's actual thoughts, Pitt prefers being mysterious. His face remains blank for nearly three hours, occasionally flashing the famous smile. "You wanna know what I'm thinking?" he seems to be asking with his random pauses and interminable stares into the camera. The problem is, of course, that Pitt really isn't thinking. Death, as a character, is incomprehensible and thus unengaging.

Hopkins, on the other hand, is terrific as always. As a man trying to make peace with his past mistakes, he seethes with regret and repressed anger. Slowly, however, Hopkins realizes that he is not a doomed soul. Time and time again, he steals the scene from Pitt and Forlani, turning the movie's overblown romance into background fodder for his own personal drama. When Hopkins says to Forlani, "I have no regrets; no regrets," before his time is about to run out, we believe him.

Forlani, meanwhile, is a dazzlingly gorgeous find. Her liquid eyes, perfect complexion and high cheekbones give her a look so defined and unique that the camera constantly finds new angles to show off her singular beauty. Unfortunately, Forlani seems a graduate of the Brad Pitt School of Acting. Her role, as written, might as well be Oscar bait--a young, intelligent woman who has found the love of her life must now come to terms with both the loss of this love and her own father to the same force. But Forlani refuses to dig deep. Her performance is strangely affected, and her brooding glares never radiate more than pouty annoyance.

But it's also unfair to hurl all the blame at Pitt and Forlani. Though the acting might be depthless, neither the script nor the direction manage to offer anything more profound. Martin Brest heaps on the excess--the film literally glitters in luxury (the ending fireworks scene is just unbelievable). But the spectacular visuals simply accentuate the problems in Meet Joe Black; instead of fleshed-out characters, instead of a compelling narrative, instead of subtlety, it offers us lush backgrounds and swelling music. Knowing full well that the movie can't elicit audience response on its own, Brest tries to shove romance down our throats.

Meet Joe Black tries to follow in the footsteps of Titanic as an overbudgeted attempt at epic romance. But where the latter had compelling, dramatic artistry compensating for underwritten characters, Meet Joe Black can't transcend its superficiality. The concluding "twist" offers the best example. Instead of proving that Susan really did find humanity and goodness in Death's dark soul, we only get final confirmation that she never really probed beneath his exterior.

She wanted Brad Pitt's body all along.

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