← Back to Reviews
in
#583 - Bowfinger
Frank Oz, 1999
A wannabe film-maker plans to make a science-fiction film by any means necessary, including filming a famous movie star without his knowledge.
Though the ads I saw during Bowfinger's theatrical release did play up the silliness to a somewhat alienating degree, I've since come to realise that the premise held some potential. This potential was increased by the fact that the film reunited star/screenwriter Steve Martin with Dirty Rotten Scoundrels director Frank Oz. I did like that film's simple yet well-executed comedic tale of a pair of con artists frantically trying to one-up one another, so I figured that that same energy would at least partially translate to Bowfinger. Martin plays the titular producer/director who reads a script about an alien invasion and decides that he wants to make it despite only having about two thousand dollars in capital. He repeatedly ignores common sense as he not only puts together a ragtag cast and crew but also intends to bring in a major Hollywood star (Eddie Murphy) to play the lead role. Murphy, who is a highly strung action star whose angry awareness of the film industry's flaws borders on full-blown paranoia, predictably rejects the overly enthusiastic Martin. To this end, Martin decides to lie to the majority of his crew and have them film the movie around an unsuspecting Murphy under the pretense of him being extremely focused - and that's before they manage to find his exact double (Murphy again).
Bowfinger has a decent enough comedic high concept but it fails to flesh it out with any sufficiently amusing jokes. There is some cleverness scattered here and there, whether it's Murphy's eager devotion to a self-help program that in no way resembles Scientology (anchored by a po-faced Terence Stamp as Murphy's contact within the organisation) or some of his more potent comments about the film industry (such as rejecting a potential action movie catch-phrase for being too complex with the line "We're making a movie, not a film!" or remarking on the inherent racism of the Academy Awards). There's also the running plot about how Martin's attempts to film an alien-themed movie around Murphy lead to him becoming increasingly paranoid and vulnerable to a nervous breakdown, which does lend a blackly comic air to the proceedings. Unfortunately, the odd moment of cleverness isn't enough to make a significant difference as the film treads some fairly basic comedic ground. There's a scene in which Martin makes Murphy's gormless double run across a busy highway as part of an action sequence, which feels a little too broad for its own good. The same goes for Heather Graham as an extremely stereotypical ingenue who gets straight off a bus and straight into Martin's production, which adds little to the proceedings.
While Bowfinger doesn't do anything egregiously wrong in its satirical yet fundamentally earnest mockery of the film industry, I can't help but be disappointed by how incredibly unfunny it ends up being. The film does its best to infuse its cast of misfits with weight and significance; Martin's lifelong passion for filmmaking makes him a somewhat tragic figure even as he lies, cheats, and steals in order to see his vision come true, whereas his various compatriots believe in the work they're doing regardless of their awareness of the greater truth. This translates to the performances, with Martin channeling his typical comic energy into a character that is dedicated to a vision but not self-aware enough to give up on said vision, while Murphy pulls double-duty as both a belligerent yet insecure Hollywood A-lister and his sweetly oblivious doppelganger. Other performances put in the hard yards but yield little in the way of decent results. There's no ironic detachment on display here, but one wonders if sheer sincerity is truly enough to support the film, especially when the jokes invoke the mildest of amusement without actually arousing a single chuckle.
Frank Oz, 1999
A wannabe film-maker plans to make a science-fiction film by any means necessary, including filming a famous movie star without his knowledge.
Though the ads I saw during Bowfinger's theatrical release did play up the silliness to a somewhat alienating degree, I've since come to realise that the premise held some potential. This potential was increased by the fact that the film reunited star/screenwriter Steve Martin with Dirty Rotten Scoundrels director Frank Oz. I did like that film's simple yet well-executed comedic tale of a pair of con artists frantically trying to one-up one another, so I figured that that same energy would at least partially translate to Bowfinger. Martin plays the titular producer/director who reads a script about an alien invasion and decides that he wants to make it despite only having about two thousand dollars in capital. He repeatedly ignores common sense as he not only puts together a ragtag cast and crew but also intends to bring in a major Hollywood star (Eddie Murphy) to play the lead role. Murphy, who is a highly strung action star whose angry awareness of the film industry's flaws borders on full-blown paranoia, predictably rejects the overly enthusiastic Martin. To this end, Martin decides to lie to the majority of his crew and have them film the movie around an unsuspecting Murphy under the pretense of him being extremely focused - and that's before they manage to find his exact double (Murphy again).
Bowfinger has a decent enough comedic high concept but it fails to flesh it out with any sufficiently amusing jokes. There is some cleverness scattered here and there, whether it's Murphy's eager devotion to a self-help program that in no way resembles Scientology (anchored by a po-faced Terence Stamp as Murphy's contact within the organisation) or some of his more potent comments about the film industry (such as rejecting a potential action movie catch-phrase for being too complex with the line "We're making a movie, not a film!" or remarking on the inherent racism of the Academy Awards). There's also the running plot about how Martin's attempts to film an alien-themed movie around Murphy lead to him becoming increasingly paranoid and vulnerable to a nervous breakdown, which does lend a blackly comic air to the proceedings. Unfortunately, the odd moment of cleverness isn't enough to make a significant difference as the film treads some fairly basic comedic ground. There's a scene in which Martin makes Murphy's gormless double run across a busy highway as part of an action sequence, which feels a little too broad for its own good. The same goes for Heather Graham as an extremely stereotypical ingenue who gets straight off a bus and straight into Martin's production, which adds little to the proceedings.
While Bowfinger doesn't do anything egregiously wrong in its satirical yet fundamentally earnest mockery of the film industry, I can't help but be disappointed by how incredibly unfunny it ends up being. The film does its best to infuse its cast of misfits with weight and significance; Martin's lifelong passion for filmmaking makes him a somewhat tragic figure even as he lies, cheats, and steals in order to see his vision come true, whereas his various compatriots believe in the work they're doing regardless of their awareness of the greater truth. This translates to the performances, with Martin channeling his typical comic energy into a character that is dedicated to a vision but not self-aware enough to give up on said vision, while Murphy pulls double-duty as both a belligerent yet insecure Hollywood A-lister and his sweetly oblivious doppelganger. Other performances put in the hard yards but yield little in the way of decent results. There's no ironic detachment on display here, but one wonders if sheer sincerity is truly enough to support the film, especially when the jokes invoke the mildest of amusement without actually arousing a single chuckle.