THE END OF VIOLENCE By Harvey Karten, Ph.D. MGM/Ciby 2000 Director: Wim Wenders Writer: Nicholas Klein, Wim Wenders Cast: Bill Pullman, Gabriel Byrne, Andie MacDowell, Loren Dean, Traci Lind, Daniel Benzali, K. Todd Freeman
Turn on the TV on any Sunday morning--the hours of the "intellectual ghetto"--and you'll find religious, political, and self- appointed leaders vocalizing their concern about violence on TV, in gangsta-rap music, and in the movies. The big questions are asked over and over with predictable responses: "Do violent movies cause violence in real life? What is the responsibility of recording studios to censor those rap songs that emphasize and seem even to welcome expressions of hate? What is the role of TV in creating a culture of violence? Now, "The End of Violence" does take on these concerns, but while the film is too cerebral to evoke the kind of box-office draw of, say, "Air Force One," its talented, world-class director has no intention of communicating an arid, academic exercise. What Wenders has done instead is to create a complex story which examines the way a single violent act intertwines the lives of people who have little in common with one another. But bear this in mind: he is not concerned with condemning violence (don't we all?) or its depiction in films. He uses an act of violence to rouse his more ambitious motive: to get beneath the skin of his characters and to show how a kidnapping brings lonely, wanting people together and radically alters their lives. If he is not entirely successful in capturing our soul, in quickening the tempo of our hearts and thoroughly engaging our minds, his film is precious for its originality, for Pascal Rabaud's moody photography, for its eerie soundtrack featuring new works by groups like Los Lobos and the Latin Playboys, and for showcasing the range of Bill Pullman which he last exhibited so well in the equally complex David Lynch drama "The Lost Highway."
Much of the visual imagery highlights the alienating effect of modern technology: the way computers, telescopes and other instruments of communication have the ironic effect of keeping people apart, unconnected. Mike Max (Bill Pullman), for example, is a successful producer of highly commercial action films living on a fabulous Malibu estate, yet his wife Paige (Andie MacDowell) is about to leave him. (Though Mike stands a mere fifty meters from her, she tells him of her decision via his cell phone.) Mike spends so much time networking with the people on the production set of his latest movie that his wife has not heard from him in two months. A man quite different from Mike, Ray (Gabriel Byrne), is working in an area equally remote from the masses of Angelenos, engaged in a secret surveillance project high up in an observatory. He has blanketed Los Angeles in a network of hidden cameras which he believes can cut police response time by 200 percent. By treating the entire city as though it were a department store, Ray can effectively zero in on street crime as it is happening until, the government agents hope, the criminals will throw in the towel and there will be an end to violence. The great irony of the movie is that this very design triggers Mike's kidnapping and near-murder, puts Ray's life in danger, and leads to a chain-reaction of events which alter the destiny of Wenders' characters.
Like Michelangelo Antonioni whom Wenders obviously esteems, Wenders has always been concerned with humankind's alienation, a favorite theme of the 1970s which formed the motif of films like "Zabriskie Point," "The Anxiety of the Goalie at the Penalty Kick," "The Left-Handed Woman" and "Blow Up." In the last case, director Antonioni shifted his view of human separateness to photography itself, as a camera professional is drawn out of his shell when he photographs an apparent act of violence. Wenders, like Antonioni, possesses a feeling that society is breaking down, a phenomenon that permeates his "The End of Violence." But Wenders is concerned primarily not with disorder itself or society's decline but rather with stripping down people to their skins so that they can hardly brush against one another without pain. Yet despite a surprising, melodramatic event which concludes "The End of Violence," the movie as a whole is optimistic. The kidnapping brings together a beautiful stunt woman, Cat (Traci Lind) and a detective, Doc Dean Brock (Loren Dean), a pair that would seem unlikely until you realize that Doc gave up medical school because of his love for Hollywood films. "Define violence," challenges Cat, to which Doc replies, "fear, absence of love, emotional revenge." The elements are all present in this film and threaten to undermine the characters' connections each step of the way.
If Wenders does not succeed in condemning the role of violence in movies (which was not his intention), he does unfold a work of intricate texture, pitting the glamour of Hollywood against its sordid realities, and championing an individual who thinks he has it all but happily relinquishes his position in favor of the simple life. He also demonstrates the love for film which he developed while exposed to Hollywood's universe during the American occupation of his native Germany. Rated R. Running Time: 122 minutes. (C) 1997 Harvey Karten
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