Fred Schepisi/USA/2005; R4, 2-disc
Warner Bros, NZ$24.95 | Reviewed by Simon Sweetman

AMERICA’s obsession with the idea/l of “The Great American Novel” is a sad notion – particularly within the current political climate. Back when Steinbeck’s trim novels and Mailer’s powerful prose actually took people’s minds out and away from the news, there was some reason to care about this concept of a Great American Novel (the literary equivalent of the so-fabled “American Dream”?) But Bush’s War-on-Terror suggests people turning to Playstation beat-em-ups and gangsta escapades for escapism – with just a hint of irony. Sure that’s generations for you too, and Generation Y’s greatest claim to fame thus far is the shortening and corruption of the English language, assisting them in the creation of a new lexicon that nobody really understands. Troubled times? You betcha. And what does common-ground, white bread/white-bred, middle America of mainstream mass love to do in the face of – and in spite of – cultural diversity? Take everyone back to a Steinbeckian situation (that never really happened anyway!) Ah, better times – apparently...

Here’s where we get to Empire Falls – a mini-series/HBO movie based on Richard Russo’s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, directed here by Fred Schepisi from Russo’s own screenplay.

Empire Falls wants to be the filmed version of The Great American Novel – and perhaps it is. But it’s the Great American Novel for people who like movies like Fried Green Tomatoes, Steel Magnolias and How To Make An American Quilt; rather than for people who read books like Jonathan Franzen’s The Corrections, Jeffrey Eugenides’ The Virgin Suicides or, well, Richard Russo’s original text, Empire Falls.

Where the book’s lengthy (too tangential) prologue was covered by Russo’s decent grasp of writing as a craft, here the painfully slow opening of the film is patched up by scenery-chewing performances from Ed Harris and Paul Newman. But just as Russo’s small-town tales of reluctant heroes (really it’s just Stephen King without the gore) rely on his writing ability, Schepisi’s vision of this film relies, too often, on a stacked cast (Philip Seymour Hoffman, Dennis Farina, Robin Wright Penn, Aidan Quinn, Joanne Woodward, Helen Hunt). As if an audience is supposed to be impressed by a TV-acting summit. With great respect to Robert Altman, in light of his recent passing, an ensemble cast doesn’t always equate to the greatest end-product.

Midway through the three-plus-hours, a gentle humour becomes, somewhat softly, pervasive – and the mix of drama, action, comedy, tragedy (attempting so very carefully to structure a film as if a day, or days, in the life of Joe and Jane Average) makes itself better known. But it’s a labourious set-up that occasionally borders on excruciating.

Perhaps it’s an American thing? And we’re just too cynical by nature of subtraction from the climate? It’s certainly not the fault of HBO films – we know they can deliver (Angles In America) but I was just so bored by Empire Falls, despite some decent performances. I get the slow-burning mid-west setting and intended behind-the-backbeat pacing. I get the fact that in times of real-life tragedy, America rewards the reluctant heroes who write books and make films about, well, reluctant heroes. I get all of that. But Empire Falls – its title a very obvious statement about family hierarchies collapsing (that has to be seen, rather unsubtly, in a wider political context) – didn’t do anything for me.


IN TERMS of extras on this double-disc, there’s a pedestrian making-of featurette and a back-patting commentary from director (Schepisi) and screenwriter/author (Russo).