VERSUS THE SCARECROW EPISODE FIFTEEN: The Perennial Steven Soderbergh. I decided to challenge myself and really open the doors of my film knowledge and take on “The Scarecrow Video Movie Guide”. It’s 808 pages of movies and movie reviews from some of the most knowledgeable movie people you don’t know. It’s a book put together by a staff that praises, and destroys, some of our favorites and not so favorites. You can read the rest of my series here.
Just a quick refresher: each episode, I’m going to tackle three films from three different categories. Two films will be films I’ve never seen before and one will be one I’ve seen before or own. For the new films, well, new to me, I’m going to review them like a typical FTS review using the TOAST Rating system. But, for the films I’ve seen, I’m going give a quick paragraph or two about why I like or don’t like the film. We’ll try to include the poster and trailer for each film. “….and here. We. Go!”
Steven Soderbergh is a fantastic director. His casts are solid, his scripts are tight, and his visual style subtly shifts every film, creating a chameleon effect that has endured and will continue to endure. It’s a shame that he’s announced his retirement, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he returned in a few years with something new. (At least I hope and pray he does… have you seen Side Effects yet? I was thoroughly impressed) In this episode, we look at the remake Solaris (2002), the super sexy Out of Sight (1998), and I reflect on the masterful, yet depressing, Traffic (2000).
Traffic (2000) Directed by Steven Soderbergh. Starring: Michael Douglas, Benicio Del Toro, Catherine Zeta-Jones. IMDB says: “A conservative judge is appointed by the President to spearhead America’s escalating war against drugs, only to discover that his teenage daughter is an addict.”
“Open the god damn door!”
Few films pull me in so deep that I no longer believe I’m watching a work of fiction. Most recently that film was Cannibal Holocaust, but before that it was Traffic. Traffic was a film I had seen before, but was half paying attention and I ended up not getting the full effect. I don’t remember what conversation I was having, but something inside of me triggered a desire to see the film again. I moved it to the top of my Netflix queue and gave it my full and undivided attention. I can’t remember the last time I felt physically and emotionally drained from watching a film. I didn’t want to leave the couch, I just wanted to lie there and fall asleep. Traffic is a heavy film. Subject matter aside, the performances are so astounding and engaging, that I’d found myself believing what I was watching was real, like it was a documentary. My heart would break every time the film took a turn for the worse; and that happened way more than I wanted it to. I became attached to the characters and their plotlines. It almost hurt watching Caroline and her downward spiral from honor student to addict prostitute. I sat in sadness and watched the relationship between Don Cheadle and Luis Guzman’s character slowly demise. I felt for Javier Rodriguez (Benecio Del Toro) as he goes through life just looking for a way to make life better for his community. I found myself having to continually remind myself that this was just a movie, and that none of these people exist. But because the film is so well written, acted, directed, etc, it looked and felt so real, my subconscious can’t make the distinction between the real world and the reel world. To me, that is the sign of a masterpiece. Traffic is no exception.
I remember being really bummed out when the movie ended. I had that feeling that was almost on par with the sinking stomach feeling after seeing Requiem For A Dream. (Could you imagine a double feature of those movies? And on a rainy day?) Traffic is a film that stays with you. Sure you might not buy posters of it and hang them on your walls. You might only watch it once every year or so and hell, you might not even own it. But Traffic stays with you every time you watch any movie dealing with drugs or the drug war. It’s the measuring stick that you use to quantify another films merits and every single time, no matter how many positives you look for, it will always come up short.
You can read the rest of episode 15 where I reviewed Solaris and Out of Sight. If you’re interested in more, you can find the rest of the Versus The Scarecrow series here.