First Coppola, now the maker of masterpieces such as M*A*S*H, Nashville and The Long Goodbye. Altman's done a Grisham. The once esteemed seventies directors are all succumbing. Whatever next? Scorcese doing Police Academy.
Super successful Southern lawyer, Rick Magruder (Branagh) takes on pro bono case client, Mallory Doss (Embeth Davidtz), because he just happens to be bonking her. Yawn. How many times do we need to suffer this tale endlessly rehashed? Thankfully, we don't get the obligatory courtroom scene denouement, but we do get a piss-poor imitation of classic film noirs such as Double Indemnity, The Postman Always Rings Twice, The Maltese Falcon and seventies masterpiece Chinatown.
The enigmatic Mallory is being harassed by her seemingly deranged daddy a shoeless hillbilly (Robert Duvall) who steals her car, breaks into her house and hangs her moggy by the front door.
Branagh in the midst of a messy divorce becomes embroiled in this strange waif's turgid world. He has the hillbilly arrested and after a trial filled with a gaggle of lank-haired followers, Duvall is packed off to the loony bin. His gang helps him escape, and Branagh's kids are swiftly abducted.
About now you're approximately 90 minutes in and the only elements stopping you from entering the world of slumber are the interesting cameos, from the likes of Hannah, Berenger, Duvall and especially Downey Jr, and the occasional Altmanesque touch.
How about Branagh? Well, they should have got a genuine Southern actor wheel out Matthew McCoughney or better still Harrison Ford. Branagh doesn't convince and the supposed passion between Branagh and Davidtz just isn't there. Although the South African actress is rather better in her femme fatale role than Kenny is in his. The moment when they get it on, so to speak, is about as sexy as witnessing Manchester City drawing 0-0 to Macclesfield on a wet Sunday afternoon at Maine Road in deepest, darkest February. There's no chemistry whatsoever, although Davidtz pluckily tries to emulate Barbara Stanwyck.
The interest level only truly rises when Robert Downey Jr appears as Clyde Pell. Patently in his own world his bravura over-acting is a blessing. Maybe he should have been given the main role, then perhaps not given his subsequent mental state.
The film always looks great, thanks to the dramatic Savannah thunderstorms, but everyone involved has forgotten to tell an original and decent tale. One suspects that Grisham's influence has most likely ruined The Gingerbread Man (very silly title) from the off, despite Altman's attempts to resuscitate the beast.
Ultimately, this is a slow burner that never ignites and possesses a predictable, unremarkable script. --Ben Walsh
Super successful Southern lawyer, Rick Magruder (Branagh) takes on pro bono case client, Mallory Doss (Embeth Davidtz), because he just happens to be bonking her. Yawn. How many times do we need to suffer this tale endlessly rehashed? Thankfully, we don't get the obligatory courtroom scene denouement, but we do get a piss-poor imitation of classic film noirs such as Double Indemnity, The Postman Always Rings Twice, The Maltese Falcon and seventies masterpiece Chinatown.
The enigmatic Mallory is being harassed by her seemingly deranged daddy a shoeless hillbilly (Robert Duvall) who steals her car, breaks into her house and hangs her moggy by the front door.
Branagh in the midst of a messy divorce becomes embroiled in this strange waif's turgid world. He has the hillbilly arrested and after a trial filled with a gaggle of lank-haired followers, Duvall is packed off to the loony bin. His gang helps him escape, and Branagh's kids are swiftly abducted.
About now you're approximately 90 minutes in and the only elements stopping you from entering the world of slumber are the interesting cameos, from the likes of Hannah, Berenger, Duvall and especially Downey Jr, and the occasional Altmanesque touch.
How about Branagh? Well, they should have got a genuine Southern actor wheel out Matthew McCoughney or better still Harrison Ford. Branagh doesn't convince and the supposed passion between Branagh and Davidtz just isn't there. Although the South African actress is rather better in her femme fatale role than Kenny is in his. The moment when they get it on, so to speak, is about as sexy as witnessing Manchester City drawing 0-0 to Macclesfield on a wet Sunday afternoon at Maine Road in deepest, darkest February. There's no chemistry whatsoever, although Davidtz pluckily tries to emulate Barbara Stanwyck.
The interest level only truly rises when Robert Downey Jr appears as Clyde Pell. Patently in his own world his bravura over-acting is a blessing. Maybe he should have been given the main role, then perhaps not given his subsequent mental state.
The film always looks great, thanks to the dramatic Savannah thunderstorms, but everyone involved has forgotten to tell an original and decent tale. One suspects that Grisham's influence has most likely ruined The Gingerbread Man (very silly title) from the off, despite Altman's attempts to resuscitate the beast.
Ultimately, this is a slow burner that never ignites and possesses a predictable, unremarkable script. --Ben Walsh