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THE TRUTH ABOUT CHARLIE by Tom McCurrie
Remember last time when I said Hope springs eternal about finding another good script? Well, that Hope just got dashed by the celluloid cow pattie known as THE TRUTH ABOUT CHARLIE.
Now I'm not one of those who thinks movies shouldn't be remade now and then. After all, Bogart's 1941 MALTESE FALCON was far cooler than the 1931 version. But if you're going to remake the Audrey Hepburn/Cary Grant thriller CHARADE, shouldn't you at least try to make it watchable?
(Warning: Spoilers Ahead!)
Written by Jonathan Demme, Steve Schmidt, Peter Joshua and Jessica Bendinger, and based on the script by Peter Stone (who used the pseudonym Peter Joshua in the new version), THE TRUTH ABOUT CHARLIE is about a Parisian hottie whose late husband Charlie turns out to be a no-goodnik. He also turns out to have several "friends" who want their six million dollars back...or else.
So far, so good, entertainment-wise. But THE TRUTH ABOUT CHARLIE deviates from its predecessor in some very negative ways. For one thing, the casting is pretty lame. Though Thandie Newton is radiant in the lead, her co-star Mark Wahlberg looks like a bored frat boy in search of a kegger. Not surprisingly, these two strike zero sparks, pretty much the kiss of death for a romantic thriller. It doesn't help that Tim Robbins gives a thoroughly embarrassing performance as the heavy -- his Grade-Z impersonation of Walter Matthau must be seen to be believed (Matthau played the villain in the original picture).
But it's the feeble story that truly sinks this souffle. For if RED DRAGON showed how everything can go right with a script, THE TRUTH ABOUT CHARLIE shows how everything can go horribly, horribly wrong.
First of all, Thandie Newton's protagonist is too dense. She's supposed to be a sophisticated woman of the world yet doesn't know her husband's a crook and a philanderer? And she takes even the most outrageous situations at face value, whether it's Wahlberg conveniently showing up whenever she's in need, or Robbins telling her he's an Embassy official when he never seems to want to meet at his own Embassy.
Now 1963's CHARADE had the same problems, but the times were much less knowing and cynical than they are now. In the midst of the Information Age, where everyone is hip to the latest trend even before it happens, such obliviousness in a protagonist comes off as naivete at best, stupidity at worst. Not the best way to endear an audience to your lead character.
Worse yet are the anemic villains. In the original picture, the bad guys ranged from a sinister cowboy to a wannabe Captain Hook. These dudes creeped out a whole generation of moviegoers. In the remake, the villains start out glowering, but soon turn into nice folks who party down with Thandie at the local discotheque. Even the ogre-like Ted Levine is more comic than evil, blustering about with acupuncture needles in his cheeks. This kills any threat to our heroine, and without threat, you certainly can't have suspense or thrills.
Of course, Tim Robbins turns out to be the true villain of the piece anyway, but that laughable Matthau impression undermines much of his menace. The script also breaks the cardinal rule of letting things go too easy on the protagonist(s). When Robbins takes a hostage after being cornered by Wahlberg, he doesn't bother to fight it out -- he simply gives up! With the chief baddie so weak, whatever tension's left completely evaporates.
Finally, a word about set-pieces. Scripts are more than dialogue and character description. In a romantic thriller like this one, inventively set and choreographed action set-pieces are a must. This is not something the director whips up on the set; the writer must create these from scratch.
The original CHARADE had one long chase through the Metro, across the Palais Royal and into the Comedie-Francaise theatre. It was drenched in atmosphere and terribly exciting. The remake has none of that. No chases, no action, no attempt to raise the blood pressure with a little excitement.
The climax is especially telling. In the original, Walter Matthau had Audrey Hepburn dead to rights in the Comedie-Francaise. As he was walking across the stage to plug her, Cary Grant was underneath in a cavernous basement, listening to Matthau's footsteps. Cary saw that the underside of the stage was a latticework of trap doors. Right before Matthau was about to waste Audrey, Cary pulled a switch and dropped Matthau to his death.
In the remake, Robbins bumps into Thandie in an alleyway, followed soon after by Wahlberg and his men. A Mexican stand-off ensues, with a painfully long Talking Gunman speech by Robbins (he seems to go on for a couple of reels explaining why he became so Eee-vil), then Robbins rolls over and that's that. Not only is this setting visually boring, it doesn't even have any Parisian atmosphere -- the whole thing could have been shot in downtown Toronto.
So is there a lesson here? If it ain't broke, don't fix it. Or in movie parlance, if it ain't got a good script, don't remake it.
Responses, comments and general two-cents worth can be E-mailed to [email protected].
A graduate of USC's School of Cinema-Television, Tom McCurrie has worked as a development executive and a story analyst. He is currently a screenwriter living in Los Angeles.
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