Customer Reviews

The Designated Mourner [VHS]

5 star:		(5)
4 star:		(2)
3 star:		(0)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

Okay. Most of the people complaining about this movie act as if the MOVIE failed because they fail to take it seriously.

Yes, it's three actors talking directly to the camera for 90 minutes.

Get over it.

Yes, Wallace Shawn is not exactly the person to write an obit on the death of High Culture. And one reviewer is right to say the main character is just a pretentious faker (like Shawn?!).

And no, no one appoints that character the designated mourner for Western Culture--no one but himself.

But this film is also about despotism, and how quickly the life of the mind is snuffed out by politicians who put limits on expression.

The movie is a fascinating allegory. Yes, it's conflicted. Growing up with the inheritance of The New Yorker, no less, Shawn must be terribly conflicted about Cult-chya. But so is our society as a whole.

That's the worst thing about these other reviews. Even the writers who realize the film's about the various 'brows'--highbrow, lowbrow, etc.--fail to recognize how complexly the film negotiates these choppy cultural waters.

I adore Miranda Richardson. She's the perfect self-aware victim here--brittle but not shrill (as she can be).

Mike Nichols is indeed a revelation. He can do about ten layers of irony wrapped in sarcasm underneath hatred etc.

And if you don't want to think or be challenged, see another movie.

If you watch this one in the right frame of mind, it will really touch you deeply AND make you think.

And Pauline Kael in her last interview said it was an overlooked gem. So I'm right.

I know it's childish, but it's how I feel.

David Hare's The Designated Mourner starring Mike Nichols, Miranda Richardson, and David de Keyser, is based on a play by Wallace Shawn. Told almost entirely in direct address, the film is a genuinely original, intimate, and compelling viewing experience of the sort as Wallace Shawn's earlier triumph, My Dinner with Andre (written and performed with Andre Gregory). The Designated Mourner is a cerebral, engaging, fascinating film that will be reflected upon long after the closing credits run. Color, 95 minutes.

For lovers of the spoken word, for those who cherish poetry. Rare moments, astonishingly delivered.

Told almost entirely in direct address to the viewer, The Designated Mourner is the feature film version of the Wallace Shawn stageplay and presents an impressive series of performances by the case which includes Mike Nichols, Miranda Richardson, and David de Keyser. Intimate, compelling, at times disturbing, The Designated Mourner is an original concept that is as enthralling as Shawn's earlier work, My Dinner With Andre and is highly recommended for personal, film school, and public library video collections. VHS, color, 95 minutes,

Funny how people revere this movie, using terms like "thought provoking" and "intelligent" and "masterpiece," but no one seems to know what it's about. The acting is impeccable, and the script seems to be about the death of an elite inteligencia and the victory of a shallow, all-surface society where nobody has to do much thinking. But the protagonist, the Mike Nichols character, though he denies understanding the "highbrow," displays the coldest and sharpest mind in the story. Compared to him, Ayn Rand was Danielle Steele!

The ending is moving, and the metaphor of the designated mourner is touching, but when people try to talk about this one they stop short of being specific about what in hell it was they found so interesting. They all sound like Roger Ebert; they use a lot of the lingo of film reviews but they don't really know what the thing was about.

Any story - from Transformers 4 to Moses requires a couple of critical elements to set the hook, to work in fiction. Character development, complication; listen if the details of this horror are lost on you, it could be argued that you fail citizenship 101. What are we, so lost to the crux of authentic human suffering we'll miss the point altogether without a few boobs and the more visible explosions. This is a first rate play wth extrodinary renditions all around and if you don't quite "get it" you owe yourself a little patient education and a spot of quiet regards your "tastes."

not being sure what/whom lead some to argue about the protagonist's transition from high- to low-brow. if this transition had anything to do with this movie it must have happened before since jack is nothing else but a pretentious low-brow pal who's faking his way around. otherwise a nerve-test: excellent interpretation around a low screenplay.

It's time someone gave this pretentious film the panning it so richly deserves. First of all, let me say that I have nothing against Wallace Shawn or talkative films - I rather enjoyed "My Dinner With Andre," which somehow manages to hold the viewer's interest with its interesting dialogue and enjoyable setting. This film, however, is a yawn, and it doesn't make a hell of a lot of sense either. Throughout the movie we mostly see three things - the faces of the three characters talking, in front of some nameless postmodern background. As if this weren't visually boring enough, things get worse when we have to use our ears. Each in turn, the characters spew a lot of ridiculous monologues at the viewer in affected, self-serious voices. Somehow this is all supposed to tie together into one of the characters appointing himself the "designated mourner" for western culture (though why this random fool should matter to us in any way is never clearly explained.) All I can say is that if western culture is dead, it was this film that killed it.