“Vanilla Sky”: A Delicious Mess or Just a Mess?
Last year, Cameron Crowe snagged an Oscar for his “Almost Famous” screenplay and seemingly thought he could do anything. Fresh from his divorce with Nicole Kidman, Tom Cruise appeared to share the sentiment. And with Penelope Cruz captivating Cruise, she too seemed to believe anything was possible. From these bold assumptions emerged “Vanilla Sky,” a film that resolutely defies easy digestion.
While it might seem like a straightforward remake of Alejandro Amenábar’s Spanish thriller “Open Your Eyes” – with Penelope Cruz reprising her role – it’s merely a sliver of a cinematic kebab. This kebab also includes a nod to Buñuel’s satirical classic, “That Obscure Object of Desire,” and bears a striking resemblance to Mikhail Schweitzer’s Soviet sci-fi film, “The Flight of Mr. McKinley.” One wonders if Crowe or Amenábar studied Soviet cinema in film school. Finally, there’s a hint of Alan Parker’s “Angel Heart,” with its amnesiac murder suspect. The result? A single viewing serves up a skewer of sturgeon (satire), lamb (thriller), and beef (sci-fi), each presented sequentially rather than blended. This peculiar dish is then slathered in a “vanilla cream” – a romantic mood – for lack of a better sauce. Who, one might ask, would dare to taste this strange delicacy?
Duty-bound, you first attempt to separate the cream from the meat and find yourself face-to-face with a wealthy playboy. Tom Cruise’s character has a mistress (Cameron Diaz) but doesn’t understand love. He breaks up with her for his friend’s girlfriend (Penelope Cruz), leading the jilted mistress to drive them off an overpass. She dies, and he’s left disfigured. There’s a certain logic to this: playboys pay more for sex than love. But this logic must be disentangled from prison scenes where a psychiatrist (Kurt Russell) tries to understand how Cruise’s character committed murder. These scenes are somewhat understandable, hinting at a “we can’t live in the past” theme. While they don’t quite mesh with the earlier romance, there’s hope they’ll lead to a clear conclusion: “Who’s to blame for the girl’s death, the playboy or a difficult childhood?” Alas, what follows is so convoluted that any attempt at separation becomes futile. You can only try to look away from the garbage heap into which these once-promising ingredients are transforming.
The Allure of Imperfection
Nevertheless, one can predict that this expensive dish, filmed in the “Vanity Fair” offices and a still-vibrant Manhattan, will be a success. The paradox of success lies in the fact that no one intends to digest it. Cameron Crowe could have thrown anything together, even without mixing it – the key is that, in any garbage heap, the fact remains: handsome Tom Cruise transforms into a monster with a flick of the wrist. Perhaps it’s even better that the film is incomprehensible. For two hours, the audience will savor the sight of their idol. Thanks to the unimaginable twists, his appearance constantly changes: here’s his nose, his eyes – all great; here’s a mask, let’s take it off… And what a nightmare! Good heavens! You can compare and enjoy the fact that the idol, even in makeup, even only on film, turns out to be scarier than any ordinary viewer. So, he’s just as flawed as everyone else. It’s so pleasant to spit in the face of an idol sometimes; it’s so relaxing…
On the other hand, if Crowe and Cruise can do anything, why can’t we?