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Leaving
Las Vegas (1995)
The title is a bit of a misnomer since the film begins
in L.A. and then continues to take place in Vegas; It
only rings true in the finale. But semantics aside,
"Leaving Las Vegas" is a dark character study about
a man who wants to drink himself to death and the woman
he meets who may just allow him to do so. Nicolas Cage
has his best role ever as Benjamin, a one-time apparently
well respected scripter in Hollywood who has fallen
on hard times, emotionally at least. He mentions that
his wife has left him and we see him burn a picture
of a woman and a young boy, but we can never be sure
exactly what is the catalyst for his decline. Benjamin
has simply allowed himself to sink into utter disparity.
He is in the pit when the film begins. Elisabeth Shue
enters the film after the newly-fired Benjamin has moved
to Vegas. Shue's Sera is a whore. But not just any whore,
she's a whore who prides herself on being just that.
It is important when she describes herself early in
the film. She explains that she can enter a room where
a man is and immediately surmise the situation, instantaneously
becoming the woman he wants. When she describes her
sexual encounters, she does so graphically, using the
kind of language one expects from pornographic literature.
She talks like a whore. It is disquieting at the very
least. Yet Shue never seems tough or cynical. Hers is
an intriguing character.
When the two principles finally come together, Only
Shue is really changed. Cage explains that she must
never ask him to stop drinking and she accepts this.
She, in turn, continues to whore. But, as we would expect,
things don't work out quite that easily. Shue begins
to love Cage's Benjamin in a way that even she doesn't
comprehend. She has placed herself in a position to
be his comrade and yet she grows increasingly unwilling
to be his enabler. She knows she cannot ask him to stop
drinking and yet, of course, she yearns to do so. This
one plot point edges the film ever closer to it's climax.
Shue changes dramatically from when the film begins
from whore, to victim, and finally, to the angel which
Cage sees her to be. In the final outcome, this story
is really about her.
Cage is remarkable here. Director/Writer Mike Figgis
("Stormy Monday," "Liebestraum") shows a flare for textured
settings and stylized editing from the very beginning
of the film. With Vegas as a setting, Figgis has one
of the most visually stunning places on earth as his
backdrop. He co-opts the city for numerous scenes in
the film often using aerial shots as a leitmotif in
the finished product. He uses the street scenes as videographic
backdrops (the neon seems so phony) as if filming in
front of blue screens. The films opening segment, in
L.A., where Cage sets the tone for his character as
well as the film, is really a remarkable beginning.
Watching Cage guzzle bottle after bottle of hard liquor
while in numerous locales, especially while driving
his car, is morbidly mesmerizing. Figgis' camera moves
as fluidly as the alcohol pours down Cage's esophagus.
Figgis never lets up in his style and his story. We
are forced to follow the film from it's bewildering
beginning to it's unsettling end. Figgis helms the film
with the hands of a wood carver allowing the film to
unfold along it's natural course yet shaping it into
something whole at the same time. It is a consummate
work.
Figgis also handles other duties equally well. As
the scripter here, working from a novel by John O'Brien,
the Director gives his characters interesting things
to say and never opts for easy outs. One imagines the
novel quite easily when Figgis has Cage imagine a sign
in the film morphing from "The Whole Year Inn" to "The
Hole You're In." One can almost see this passage on
the printed page. This is quite possibly the best film
adaptation of a novel since "Slaughterhouse Five." Meanwhile,
as the score composer, Figgis also plays trumpet and
keyboards on his jazzy blues compositions. He uses Sting
as a vocalist on these tunes throughout the film and,
although the songs all begin to sound the same mid-film,
the effect is quite interesting. Figgis is one of the
few Directors, like Chaplin and Woody Allen, who can
help mold his film by using his own music. Drawing upon
his three jobs in the film, Figgis controls almost all
of the key elements in the story. He does all of this
quite admirably and brings us a film that is much more
than a sum of it's parts.
Cage and Shue share most of the screen time and each
is remarkable. Cage has never been able to distinguish
himself in dramas since his early appearance in "Birdy"
and he finally reaches a higher plateau here. His Benjamin
is as torturous as he is tortured. Yet Cage and Figgis
still manage to make him likable and empathetic. We
understand why Shue's Sera loves him. Yet Cage makes
us believe that his character wants to drink himself
to death and he doesn't want to go into the gory details
of why. Cage, in addition to guzzling bottle after bottle
of supposed alcohol on screen, also has the gruelling
job of displaying the disgusting traits of an alcoholic.
He has the shakes, the D.T.'s and convulsions throughout
the film. At times it is hard to watch and one wonders
how Cage was physically able to bring us these images
without causing himself severe physical damage. Shue,
meanwhile, has her best role ever. She has probably
never played a character like this before with her turn
in "Cocktail" apparently the closest thing to her Sera
here. Shue has to work wonders in "Leaving Las Vegas."
She has to make us believe she cares for Cage enough
to handle his drunken bouts of coldness. Figgis (and
O'Brien) don't make Benjamin a mean drunk; He is simply
a incapacitated drunk. He is so psychologically wounded
that he has no capacity for meanness or cruelty. Instead,
Benjamin is a needy man who refuses to meet his needs
or allow anyone else to do so. Cage sees Shue as an
angel and it's interesting to note that every time he
meets her on the streets of Las Vegas early in the film
there are nuns in the background. Cage considers Shue
his angel. She must not only engender this and play
off of it as well but she must also handle the graphic
nature of her character. In the film's most interesting
turn, Cage wants to leave Shue (for her own good) but
she refuses to let him. He picks up a woman in a bar
a brings her to Shue's apartment, which he is sharing.
This does the trick; Shue kicks him out. After this,
she is not the whore she once was. Shue is picked up
by three high-school-aged looking boys who take her
to a motel room and proceed to rape and beat her. She
tries to be commanding and control the situation but
she has lost her idealism. She has not sized up the
situation and she doesn't play these boys for the creeps
they are. She, instead, for the first time ever, becomes
a victim. It's a sickening display. Yet Shue handles
all of the plot twists her character must endure with
seeming ease. She also offers us a standout performance
in the film.
A few well-known faces pop up in supporting roles in
the film with Julian Sands getting third billing. Sands
plays Shue's pimp Yuri in what must be his finest role.
Not a slicked up pretty boy nor a cosmopolitan, Sands
is perfectly seedy in his small part. He is conveniently
killed mid-film and we are glad to see him go. Laurie
Metcalf (Jackie on TV's "Roseanne") has a small role
as a nosy landlady and the actress turns in a performance
that is both quirky and subdued. Poking her nose into
the plot a few times, until she finally evicts Shue,
Metcalf surprises us with her ability to play it down.
It's truly a wonderful turn from this gifted comic actress.
Richard Lewis and Stephen Weber (from TV's "Wings")
have what amount to cameos (although they play characters)
in the opening of the film. This sets the tone for Cage
to descend from the glittering anti-reality of Hollywood
into the despair of his own making. Weber and Lewis
show us where he has come from and what he is leaving
behind. Julian Lennon is unnoticeable as a thug in a
barroom and Lou Rawls has only a few lines as a cab
driver. Figgis apparently has several musician friends.
Oh, the Director/Writer/ Composer also has a cameo as
a mobster in the film as well.
"Leaving Las Vegas" is a disquieting film. One suspects
the source book reads like a dog-eared, hard-boiled
detective novel with filthy pornography thrown in. Figgis'
film evokes this same quality. Frenetic, vibrant and
colorful, the film is unflinching in it depiction of
Cage's descent into the hell he creates out of the hell
he has been cast into. Figgis shows no fear here and
the finished product shines because of that.
Note: Director of Photography is Declan Quinn.
Although Cage's Benjamin is supposedly a screenwriter
only one of his films is mentioned, "Bay of Pigs." He
dismisses this as a job he didn't do but got screen
credit for.
Cage sings a song called "Ridiculous" to Shue in the
film.
Although a song called "Leaving Las Vegas" was released
by Sheryl Crow shortly before the film opened, it is
not used in the film. One assumes that O'Brien's novel
used this title (since no other is credited) and that
this usage came before Crow's song).
Figgis has worked with Metcalf and Sting before. He
cast her in his "Internal Affairs" and used the singer
as actor in "Stormy Monday."
Oscar Nominations: Best Actor (Cage), Best Actress
(Shue), Best Director, Best Adapted Screenplay.
Review written in 1996
Report
Card
Script:
A+
Acting: A+
Cinematography\Lighting: A+
Special Effects\Make Up: A-
Music: B
Final
Grade: A
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