The Interpreter vs The Forgotten

The Interpreter is a good, sturdy character drama hidden inside a thriller. There are stalkers, and overheard threats, and even a huge shocking explosion. But the true excitement comes from the characters, and the quieter moments. Honestly, it doesn't have to be that way. It could just be the stalking and the threats and the blowings up, and I'd be fine. The Interpreter has movie stars and slick cinematography, and it's starting to get warmer out, and well, movie stars and good camera work were probably all I needed. That I got anything else is a bonus.

The Interpreter was directed by Syndey Pollack, who used to do stuff like this more often, but in the past few years has made stuff like The Firm, which seems like The Interpreter, but is not. I rewatched The Firm the other night (not my idea), and it's so clumsy and complicated and has all these huge jangley piano vamps on the score. It's mainly about running up and down stairs before or after making copies (or sometimes during). It's not really that much fun—not nearly as much as I remembered—and it's sort of what I was expecting The Interpreter to be. And yet I saw it anyway. The Interpreter stars Nicole Kidman and Sean Penn, who have an abundance of smart-character chemistry, allowing them to bat dialogue back and forth in a bratty, confident way that implies both suspect lies and at least one is expecting them. They're so good together, and so fun, but The Interpreter never gives Kidman and Penn time to slip into any kind of romantic cliché, instead keeping both characters off-balance with sadness and paranoia. It's a smart move that keeps The Interpreter as fascinating a character piece as it is a political thriller (and not just because I didn't completely understand the political thriller part).

Kidman plays Sylvia Broome, an interpreter at the United Nations. She's graceful and sad, but seems content with her job. In other words, she's not one of those swinging U.N. interpreters like Harry Bentley, throwing out her back shagging bilingual babes. One night, while returning to her listening booth to retrieve her flute (see?), she overhears what she believes to be a death threat against the leader of a fictional African country (but not the one from Coming to America. I don't know where you heard that; it's not true.) Sylvia has no witnesses, though, and her past is politically-shady enough (she was raised in the same tiny African country), that the Secret Service agents on her case (Sean Penn and Catherine Keener) are suspicious about her motivations. Actually, on paper, it all sounds a lot like Foul Play, minus Burgess Meredith. Anyway, Sylvia has reasons, it turns, for wanting the man dead, and for wanting to disrupt his visit to the United States. So, will the feds believe Sylvia in time to save the President of Matobo? Is she telling the truth? Will Sylvia kill him herself? The Interpreter isn't quite classic Hitchcock, but it's close. It's what they used to call Intrigue. Words mean as much as bullets or bombs, and when they're being said by Penn, Kidman, and that lovely smart-ass Catherine Keener (as Penn's level-headed partner), they have even more sting. Kidman and Penn both play characters touched by almost unbearable sadness; hers is far enough into the past that it's become cynicism and anger—she refuses to say the names of her dead family members—while Penn's is so fresh it's almost shocking he's returned to work already. There are times in their conversations, which range from playful to confrontational, when Penn's sorrow brings him so silent he seems afraid to draw breath. I kept thinking, maybe take a couple more days off. I know it's Nicole Kidman, but seriously, maybe stay home today and tomorrow, listen to some old records, maybe order a pizza.

Much has been made about The Interpreter being the first movie to be filmed in the actual United Nations building. To this I say: okay. There is a degree of reality that the movie carries that it wouldn't otherwise have, like when there's a security threat and the building has to be evacuated, but mostly it's just a location, and once you're over the novelty, you kind of forget it's not a set. More impressive, I thought, was Pollack's use of New York streets and buildings. Sylvia's neighborhood is claustrophobic and shadowed, and when she takes off on her retro scooter, it's almost impossible for her guards to follow, turning New York into a maze of noise that culminates in a scene on a bus that is perfectly filmed. Sylvia, the targeted President of Matobo, his would-be assassin, and undercover Secret Service agents all find themselves on the same bus, with only the Secret Service guys knowing all the players. It's crowded, it's unbelievably dangerous, and before anyone can act, the bus starts to move. When the bus finally stopped, I was left with my mouth open. The Interpreter is tense, dramatic and ultimately moving, thanks to the performances of Kidman, Penn and Keener, a smart script and the direction of Sydney Pollack, who knows when to blow shit up, and when to let two of our best actors just hang on a sofa and hash thing out. I can't think of a better way to start your summer.

The Interpreter probably seems, at first, to be a little mainstream for Mr. and Mrs. Serious Actor. But there's more to it than just chasing and shooting. The actors in The Interpreter get something to chew on, which is nice. Cause you know, if you're gonna be Mr. Serious Actor, you have to go for the script and the character, but if you wanna be Mr. Paid Actor, you have to go for the blow-up once in a while. Maybe it's hard to tell on paper which ones will work. The Bourne Supremacy marries both worlds nicely, just like The Interpreter. Another good example would be In the Line of Fire, which sets up a satisfying action picture and then fills it with great performances, even though it probably didn't have to. The Forgotten tries this. We have a fairly standard thriller plot: Did someone take her kid? Did her kid die? Is she crazy? Let's get the government involved! But then, The Forgotten has Julianne Moore, so, it must be stronger than the clichés it seems full of, right? Because Julianne Moore is too talented to waste her time on fluff, right? Well, I guess she's not. She had a weekend open, apparently. The Forgotten is pretty bad.

You'll think, at first, that it might be a little Interpreter-ish. Moore is dealing with the feds, and she's in danger and has all this proof, but no one believes her. Moore's character is depressed over the death of her child, and is shocked to learn that everyone else thinks she never had a child in the first place. Or a husband. There's lots of running around and it's all kind of weepy and no one listens. No one. Well, there's the one guy, but it's not Sean Penn, if that's what you were hoping. (Although, the role of Catherine Keener is played by Alfre Woodard, and that's not a bad swap.) And then there's this blustery X-Files storyline that comes in out of nowhere and makes no sense, and sets the movie up for such a crappy resolution that you'll probably watch the alternate ending on the DVD just to see if it would satisfy anything. It won't. I watched it, and honestly I can't tell the difference

Julianne Moore is good, as she often is, but wouldn't you rather see her in something that meets her at least half way? She deserves better, and so do you. For Julianne Moore, it's better to steer clear of the mainstream entertainments, and go for the weird. Check her out in Safe, or maybe World Traveler. The further away she is from bombs, the further you'll be from, you know, bombs.

The Interpreter: B+
The Forgotten: D+