Review of Leaving Las Vegas (1995) by Mark W — 26 Feb 2012

Hailed by everyone as the best movie of 1995 and quite possibly the greatest film to ever touch celluloid, when actually watched as an ordinary film one can see the defficieny: it is an ordinary film.

Quite why critics have gushed endlessly over this film's apparent greatness is a bigger mystery than its success. The story is a basically plot-free waltz through two unpleasant people's lives to end up with a deflated conclusion, all souped-up with Hollywood gloss and other throwaway disregards for verismillitude.

While it's true few mainstream films focus attention on the downsides of addictions, which often seem so enjoyable one wonders why we get told drugs and alcohol are bad, this is never investigates or even states why alcohol abuse is damaging. 'Ben' is fired from his job and turned away from his family because of his drink problem. So what does he do? Start again? Apologise? Try and reform, like any sane person would?

No. He opts for a far more exploitative and Method-friendly option of drinking himself to death. As you do. By his side in the heart of Sin City follows the embodiment of every Hollywood hooker ever imagined. 'Sera', whose uninteresting name is even emphasised, is practically a typical housewife with a great ass and set of jugs. Sure she gives blowjobs for a living, but underneath that repressed femininity is a heart of gold, and we all know she's saving her best shag for Ben himself.

If this were stripped of its desaturated gimmick and Ben actually react emotionally to his addiction, rather than let his body spaz out every so often, then this would be an enjoyably saucy, and maybe even heartbreaking, movie. Instead, it's far from what it aspires to be.

Shue does an amiable job, though with such a deeply unpleasant character one wonders why she bothered so much. Then there's Nicky himself. Ok, his portrayal is psychologically disturbing and convincing to a T; if only he was included as a main character, instead of being brought in only to contrast to Sera, then maybe his Best Actor Oscar might have been a little more worthwhile.

Figgis' direction doesn't help. Attempting to go for a mental depiction of sickness in his fiddling with the celluloid most of his accentuating techniques come off as distracting and restrained, even more so than the deeply annoying and overblown score howling away every five minutes.

The main flaw though is the story itself. Addressing two interesting problems, the film never presents them in a negative light. Sera's prostitution turns nasty every so often; is that a suprise, given her profession or how it's always been represented in movies? And Ben's alcoholism never really goes beyond a few shakes and impulses to constantly drink. We don't even see him throwing up when he's throwing up. Both of these characters choose their poisons, and willingly carry them off. If that's not an indication no one is to feel sorry for them then I don't know what is.

With a grim script trying to act grown up, meaningless distractions along the way and a plot that stagnates on the first step this is a huge white elephant, endemic of the Academy's sadistic penchant to reward sleazy and morbid films. A disappointing waste of time and effort, for the makers and the audience.