Ahoy, squirts! Quint here with Capone's review of WEATHER MAN. He's in love with the movie and he's not the only one. I want want want to see this movie and unfortunately there was a screening tonight that I missed in order to go to WINTER PASSING at the local film festival. I regret the choice. But anyway, here's Capone loving up on Nick Cage and his new movie! Enjoy!!!
The Chicago International Film Festival’s final event this year saw the premiere of one of the best closing-night selections in recent memory. Thanks to some of the most richly drawn characters in any film I’ve seen this year (courtesy of an original screenplay by Steve Conrad). The Weather Man offers up a wholly original portrait of the barely functioning family that surrounds Chicago weatherman David Spritz.
A couple month’s ago, I though for sure I’d seen the film that might get Nicolas Cage his Oscar nomination this year--Lord of War--but I was wrong; this is the one people will remember and recognize come award season. Cage’s portrayal of the barely-holding-it-together Spritz is transcendent. He’s a genuinely nice guy who does his job of reading the weather (he’s not actually an educated meteorologist) better than most in a city that relies on its forecasters. His relationship with his recently ex-wife (Hope Davis) is strained most of the time, especially since she’s started dating a new man (a nice turn by Michael Rispoli of “The Sopranos” fame). But it’s clear that David is desperately lonely and contemplates a reconciliation that neither one really believes will work.
Spritz is in the running for a weather gig for a “Good Morning America”-style national a.m. program (hosted by Bryant Gumbel as himself), a gig that would pay a ton of money, but would separate him from his already estranged kids (Nicholas Hoult and Gemmenne de las Peña) and his successful author father, Robert (Michael Caine), who has recently gotten some very bad news from his doctor. Spritz’s life is a wreck, and the one shining light in it (the possible new job) may be impossible to accept if his life doesn’t straighten out soon. Cage is in rare form here, in what is easily one of his best roles in a long, long time. His character has so many wonderful idiosyncrasies. He is pelted with food and drink on the sidewalks of Chicago. You can’t help but laugh, but it’s the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. As a form of meditation, David takes up archery and gets quite good at it. And he has no rapport with his kids, despite clearly loving them so much. His attempts to be a hip dad are embarrassing.
The tone of The Weather Man is so odd and uncertain that you don’t know whether to laugh or cry half the time; and believe me when I say, this is a good thing. Director Gore Verbinski (The Ring, Pirates of the Caribbean) strikes such a perfect chord, showing us David’s place in the world and the city of Chicago. And how about my beautiful city? Verbinski loves this windy place, and his use of locations is exceptional. I remember when the production was in town last winter (one of the warmest on record), and seeing all the fake snow on the sidewalks as Cage shot a scene in which he finally gets revenge on the food throwers of the world.
Some elements of The Weather Man work better than others. A subplot involving Spritz’s son and a possible child molester (an almost unrecognizable Gil Bellows) doesn’t really amount to anything. But it does give Cage a rare chance to explode and release years of pent-up anger on the guy. The storyline is passable for that scene alone. The scenes between Cage and Caine are exceptional, as if they were meant to be. Caine’s character is underplayed and always quietly critical. He’s made his mark on the world, and now he expects his son and grandkids to do the same. There’s a sequence near the end of the film involving an event at which David gets to pay tribute to Robert (by evoking the lyrics of a Bob Seger song) and is interrupted. It’s such a pitiful moment that you almost want to put David out of his misery. He can’t win for trying.
The Weather Man is simple perfection. There are few “big” scenes, and those that should be are deliberately subdued. The film has some very funny moments in it, but I don’t think I’d call it a comedy. The film also doesn’t exist to illicit powerful emotion, but that didn’t stop me from being deeply moved by this collection of loveable losers. It’s one of those rare, hard-to-categorize works that exists in its own melancholy universe in which people are not asked to do great things, but merely urged not to fail spectacularly. You may never know exactly why you love The Weather Man, but you will know how much.
