Four
Rooms (1995)
A
feature film comprised of four vignettes by new, supposedly
exciting filmmakers, "Four Rooms," leaves a lot to be
desired. The first two sequences in the series are almost
throwaway pieces, even if a later segment refers back
to them. Two rather unknown filmmakers, one an apparent
lesbian feminist and the other a cheap Scorsese/Tarantino
wannabee, get to be first at bat here. They both strike
out. Robert Rodriguez ("El Mariachi") has a piece next,
he only succeeds in hitting a triple. Luckily, the wunderkid
himself, Quentin Tarantino, bats clean up. If your a
fan of "Q," you'll say that he hits one out of the park
here. Those with mixed feelings about the guy will probably
not enjoy his smug, lightweight, "nudge-nudge-wink-wink"
attempt at self-parody one bit.
The
film's segments are all tied together by the reoccurring
appearance of Tim Roth (a Tarantino fave) as a goofy
bellboy. Roth mugs and overacts his way through the
film like a speed freak with a facial tic. He never
stops hamming it up for one moment. It gets to be way
too much stretching our tolerance until it is threadbare
thin. Roth acts like Rowland Atkinson's "Mr. Bean" on
amphetamines. It gets to be unbearably irritating after
a while. Roth should have been forced by someone (he
had FOUR directors here!) to calm down a bit. Only Tarantino
makes up for Roth's antics with a finale that propels
his goofball bellhop character into a perfect ending.
The first segment of the film is a short set-up leading
us into some silly animation (ala Blake Edwards) which
eventually, in turn, leads us into the real film. At
this point, we are thrown right into the soup with a
silly, pointless, non-film short by Allison Anders called
"The Missing Ingredient." The piece stars Madonna and
Cybill Sheppard's TV daughter (the one who plays Chloe),
Alicia Witt. Their sexy, lurid banter that opens the
scene makes one think the film is going to be interesting.
But, alas, Anders has no point here. The bit she gives
us is not only dull, it seems like a used hankie. We're
sure that we've seen something like this before, even
though we can't remember where. Ione Skye shows up for
this piece too. Several of the women take off their
tops to revel their nice, firm breasts. Madonna acts
like a bitch and Witt wears a studded Riot Grrl midi-top
that has "PUSSY" spelled out on it (ironically in studs)
-and the film still dies. It's sad and disappointing.
In
the second entry, entitled "The Wrong Man," Alexandre
Rockwell brings us another misfire. The short is supposed
to be about some sort of confusion involving some sort
of sexual game being played by some sort of husband
and wife duo. It fizzles like a dud firecracker. Again,
it begins to seem like something we have seen somewhere
before. We wait and wait and nothing happens. Only an
interesting shot of Roth sticking out of a bathroom
window catches our eye in the piece. It's too little,
too late.
Rodriguez's
piece, "The Misbehavers," is next. Antonio Banderas,
who has just finished the director's "Desperado" stays
on for this piece but his star power is totally diluted
by the two wonderful little urchins who steal this segment
from him, one Hispanic and one Asian, I believe. Regardless,
the piece is a hoot. Poking fun at the absence of childhood
in children as well as the absence of maturity in adults,
Rodriguez throws in a riotous urban myth to top of the
piece. It's all handled perfectly. Rodriguez's ability
to pace the piece, extend it longer than any other writer/director
could, and then make it pay off with a wonderfully comic
tableau ending is inspired. Still, the true kudos here
must go to the two young actors in the piece who are
quite possibly the most talented youngsters to appear
in a movie in several years. Their ability to lampoon
adult in such an adult fashion while still remaining
inherently childish with out ever missing a beat in
comedic pacing is unbelievable. Writing this piece (and
all the directors wrote their own scripts here), Rodriguez
must have thought he could never discover the two talented
children he needs to pull this off - and yet he not
only succeeds in finding them, he films them perfectly.
The
final piece is the coup de gras. After a silly interlude
with Marisa Tomei that simply acts as filler, Roth makes
his way to the Penthouse to deal with "The Man from
Hollywood." This is Tarantino spoofing his own persona.
It's a brilliant piece yet one for true fans of the
auteur only. Tarantino plays himself here, under an
assumed name, in a piece that eventually shows us why
he and Bruce Willis are so extraordinary together. This
time they get to show it on screen together. Willis
acts as a Lynchian counterpart to the proceedings for
several minutes while Tarantino shows us his ability
to do continuous, long, single-shot takes from the director's
chair while still appearing on camera. When Willis eventually
joins the proceedings, the piece evolves into a psycho-comedic
masterpiece that will leave the initiated incredibly
satisfied. Only Tarantino could lampoon himself so perfectly
while still paying homage to himself, Lynch, Hitchcock,
and a few others. It's the only thing that could totally
redeem the full film. And it damn near does.
"Four
Rooms" is nowhere near the masterpiece that Lynch's
"Hotel Room" (made for HBO some two years earlier) is
even though this piece steal liberally in set up and
style from it. Lynch's epic masterwork is the director's
tour de force style coupled with imaginative scripts
and devilish nuances. Tarantino's piece, which was surely
a product of his own imagination and which was then
Produced by Tarantino cohort Lawrence Bender, is a fusion
of talent and non-talent, a spotlight shown (or, rather,
thrown) on new filmmakers which allows only he and Rodriguez
to really shine. It's nothing that will further his
career or anybody else's here for that matter. In the
end, "Four Rooms" is for fans only.
Note:
Also with Jennifer Beals.
Music
by Combustible Edison produced by Mark Mothersbaugh.
The black and white program showing on the TV during
Rodriguez's segment is a short film the director made
prior to "El Mariachi."
It struck me, while writing this, that Witt is also
in Lynch's "Hotel Room." In that earlier film, She shares
an outstanding segment with Crispin Glover. Another
"Hotel Room" connection here.
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