Bad signal

Noel Vera

"Cellular" is directed by David Ellis, who's got a longer list of
credits as stuntman and stunt coordinator than he has as filmmaker
("Final Destination 2," "Homeward Bound 2" and that's about it); its
screenplay was written by newcomer Chris Morgan and, uncredited, by
Eric Bress and J. Mackye Gruber (who both have short resumes, but
who did collaborate on both "Final Destination 2" and "The Butterfly
Effect"--presumably Ellis brought them in for rewrites).

The real auteur of this movie however--if you happen to be looking
for one--is Larry Cohen, the iconoclastic independent filmmaker who
wrote and directed "Q: The Winged Serpent" and "God Told Me To."
Both films are wildly imaginative and undisciplined, both stuffed to
the gills with fascinating ideas (winged monster nesting atop the
Chrysler Building in "Q;" God alive and well and living in a
basement in Manhattan in "God"), images (giant shadow flitting
silently over unwary Manhattanites in "Q;" men in the streets
suddenly acquiring wide-eyed robotic stares in "God"), and
performances (a great one from Michael Moriarty as a loser who
suddenly has his day in "Q;" an unsettlingly inward-looking one from
Tony Lo Bianco as an investigating police officer
in "God"). "Cellular" doesn't rise to their level of disreputable
greatness ("God" I consider one of my favorite science-fiction
films, while Moriarty's performance in "Q" I would rank with the
best of De Niro's or Pacino's)--it doesn't seem to have any
metaphysical or even philosophical ambitions to really roil up the
already chaotic surface. Actually, the picture looks like an idea
Cohen might have written as a passing thought on a chewing gum
wrapper on the way to a production meeting, stuffed into his pocket,
and forgot for a few years; when asked (by Dean Devlin, among
others) if he had any good screenplays in his drawer, he could have
taken out that wrapper, blinked at it a moment, tossed it to the
table, and said: "well, there's this…"

"Cellular" is the flip side of Cohen's screenplay for Joel
Schumacher's "Phone Booth," where a sniper traps the protagonist
inside the rectangular cubicle; here, the protagonist is physically
free to move where he wishes, but he's still trapped--perhaps more
effectively than even in the previous film--by the person he's
talking to on the phone…

The story whips along at a fast clip: mother and housewife Jessica
Martin (Kim Basinger) isn't home long when someone kicks down her
glass kitchen door, shoots her housemaid, and shoves her into a
black van; she's taken to some attic where her only companion is a
phone hanging on a wood post (if you're wondering why the phone's in
the attic, don't bother asking); one of the kidnappers named Greer
(Jason Statham) walks in with a sledgehammer and smashes the phone
to pieces, preventing her from using it (if you're wondering why he
doesn't simply confiscate the phone or tear out the handset, or at
least pull out the line, don't bother). Jessica notices, however,
that the shattered phone still has a dial tone; she fiddles with the
wires awhile and gets some geeky loser named Ryan (Chris Evans) on a
cellphone. Chris is so lame he keeps approaching his ex-girlfriend,
hoping to win her back; he doesn't quite believe Jessica's story…
until Greer walks in again and Jessica starts screaming.

The rest of the movie is a race against time, and an encyclopedia of
things that can go wrong with an ongoing call: fading signal;
crossed lines; low batteries; underground tunnels; so on and so
forth. What eventually becomes clear is that the movie's really a
cellular phone addict's fantasy: a call from a beautiful woman that
is literally life and death, giving you complete license to do
anything and everything necessary--break the speed limit, drive
wildly, steal a charger, point a gun, steal a car--to maintain that
call…

The premise is brilliant bordering on crazy (a Cohen hallmark); the
actual execution (a common Cohen weakness) surprisingly better than
you might think. The problem with "Phone Booth" was that it was
directed by Joel Schumacher, presently in the running for "worst
director who ever lived" (he's rumored to have "worst director in
Hollywood"--a prestigious award, with many competitors--in the bag).
Schumacher, presented with a static situation (man in a phone booth)
can't leave well enough alone; he has to jazz it up with visual
pyrotechnics, clumsily executed and edited, to the point of
pornography. Ellis presents a different case: I found his action
sequences rather coherent and well-staged. I can only offer two
reasons, by way of explanation: possibly because he's so new he
hasn't had the chance to develop any bad habits (unlike Schumacher,
who's so old he's never bothered to drop any); and possibly because
he's a stunt man, who can appreciate the idea that the best way to
present an action sequence is to photograph it (relatively) simply,
with an emphasis on clarity and on the human forms actually
performing the stunts.

Kim Basinger as Jessica is likeable enough to keep you on her side,
despite the endlessly hoary "mother pleading for the life of her
child" speeches (maybe it helps if you like Basinger as an actress;
she doesn't offend me, personally); Chris Evans as Ryan is a pretty
and unmemorable blank--a younger Ethan Hawke, in effect--which is
perfect; against Jason Statham's physically menacing Greer, you
really believe he doesn't have a chance. The entire movie, however,
is lifted, slipped lightly into a sack, and spirited away by William
Macy as Mooney, a police sergeant on the verge of retirement (but
they're always on the verge of retirement) who somehow finds himself
on Jessica's trail. Macy has a way of befuddling himself into the
right place at the right time, so that while you worry for him, he
blindsides you (and his opponents) with hidden resources of--grit,
determination, man-of-the-street anger, what-have-you--that seem to
come up from inside him, unbidden. He seems to be having enormous
fun with this film, in his sad-sack way, at least I hope he is; I
know I am.

(First published in Businessworld, 10/22/04)

(Comments? Email me at noelbotevera@...)