Review of Bobby Deerfield (1977) by Mike G — 08 Jan 2011

Not a happy flick and yawn. Surprised to find that some people actually liked this movie. Lush cinematography and grand locations in the Alps and a bigtime star actor like Pacino (who seems to be in an emotional coma for much of the flick whether it was intentional or not) can't overcome the inert direction by Sydney Pollack, who made great films, just not this one.

The biggest disappointment is that there is very little of the Formula One racing we (at least I) yearn to see. That's an irony I just can't take. And it turns into this depressing straight drama with as awkward and as embarassing a moments as you could ever hope to see Al Pacino play.

No wonder he didn't want to talk much about it in his interview book with Lawrence Grobel except for being endearing to Pollack for letting him get away with it. Al Pacino, the person, rarely says anything bad about anybody, and I hate to tell the truth here for fear he might see it, so sorry Al.

You said you were boring in real life and this movie is closest to you at that time, so there you go! The one thing I can say that is constructive is that in some ways it reminded me of Mann's novel The Magic Mountain with Pacino as a vague Hans Castorp and Marthe Keller, the one who's dying who actually tries to bring some life into the picture, as a haughty and enigmatic Madamme Chauchat slamming the figurative annoying door around Deerfield catching his attention and upsetting his comatose life.