Alicia Silverstone clueless in 'Excess Baggage'

Alicia Silverstone clueless in 'Excess Baggage'

By Dini S. Djalal

JAKARTA (JP): Thank God for little girls. Or so Hollywood
thinks.

Every year, a new roster of rosy-cheeked nymphets slither
their way into Tinseltown's floodlights, squeezing sighs out of
slick studio execs lounging in their casting couches.

Liv Tyler, Kate Winslet, Winona Ryder, Uma Thurman; what do
they have in common? They all got top billing before they turned
20.

It can deny the accusation (or complement, depending on your
politics), but Hollywood is Nabakov writ large, a place where
beautiful young Lolitas stay beautiful and young as long as they
can employ personal trainers and beauticians. It's a place where
being beautiful and young is often all you need to be.

It's not easy. Growing up is hard enough for your average
braces-wearing teenager. But growing up in front of millions and
a community of body-fascist narcissists (Hollywood) -- that's a
trial even celebrity guru Deepak Chopra finds a challenge. For
when these little girls pout on magazine covers, the layman (and
laywoman), consumed by a lethal mix of studious fascination and
merciless envy, stops and ponders: Has she been eating too many
donuts lately?

In the case of Alicia Silverstone, apparently so. Four years
ago, when Silverstone was Sweet Sixteen and the goddess of MTV
(after starring in a series of Aerosmith videos), she was, as
many teenagers are, a svelte saucy sprite. When her big-screen
breakthrough Clueless grossed $100 million worldwide in 1996, few
could overshadow Silverstone's luster. She was, according to
Warhol's 15 minutes of fame, the most gorgeous and popular girl
on the planet.

Yet sequel-mad Hollywood, ever formulaic rather than
enterprising, wanted Silverstone to repeat her onscreen magic,
again and again.

Batman and Robin director Joel Schumacher dressed her in latex
to play Batgirl for a fee of $1.5 million. Columbia Pictures,
confident that Silverstone knows how to make a movie as well as
star in one, gave Silverstone an unprecedented $7 million
production deal for two films.

Not bad for a teenager whose films often went straight to
video (Hideaway, The Babysitter).

By the very definition of being a teenager, however,
Silverstone was growing. More to the point, her weight was
growing. Not exponentially, but enough to keep gossip columnists
busy. And it was during the media's microscopic inspection into
her eating habits that Silverstone produced and starred in Excess
Baggage.

Silverstone seems to take the jabs at her weight-gain in
stride; Excess Baggage shows her poking at her stomach and
eagerly devouring a Twinkie.

But her thin layers of baby-fat, highlighted by the second-
skin clothes she's chosen to wear, is not the film's biggest
distraction. The real excess here is not Silverstone's indulgence
for chocolates but for uninspired dialog and acting.

To be fair, Excess Baggage is not a particularly bad film;
it's just an uninteresting one.

Perhaps Indonesia's current economic crisis intensified my
indifference -- a story of a billionaire's daughter (Silverstone
as Emily) plotting her own kidnapping to get her father's
attention seems frivolous when Indonesians are now struggling to
make ends meet. Sure, recession-hit audiences still need their
entertainment, but this illustration of wealth and privilege may
just heighten middle class resentment toward the dwindling of
their hard-earned affluence.

And the film is indulgent, from Silverstone's choice of
director (Marco Brambilla of Demolition Man) to costar (Benicio
Del Toro from The Usual Suspects).

Brambilla is not a particularly innovative director. His
staging of Del Toro's car-heist is funky enough, but the ensuing
car chases are droll for any of us who have sat through too many
years of Starsky and Hutch.

Brambilla's pacing is conventional, his camerawork is film-
school-friendly but not groundbreaking, and his understanding of
his actors, save for Del Toro and Christopher Walken (who plays
Emily's -- surprise surprise -- sinister Uncle Ray who tries to
rescue her) is lacking.

In particular, Brambilla handles Silverstone like he does a
wet sock. He keeps her at arms' distance and looks at her
unfalteringly, or at least that's how she appears before his
camera. Those who used to say it was impossible to make the
luminous Silverstone look bad are probably now swallowing their
words.

Del Toro is better, or at least better at his job. Del Toro is
the best thing about the film, despite his inaudible Brooklynese
slurs. Del Toro plays Vincent the car thief, who inadvertently
gets pinned as Emily's kidnapper. He's a shy slug in con-man's
clothes, a Saint Bernard masquerading as a Doberman. And he
remains enigmatic as Silverstone's predictable love interest --
it's her that can't seem to match his charisma. The result?
Onscreen chemistry as electric as a dying bulb.

Christopher Walken is also good, but then he's playing
himself.

Walken shares the screen with other stock indie players --
Nick Torturro (brother of John, star of Barton Fink), jazz-singer
Harry Connick Jr. (who should go back to his day-job) and Sally
Kirkland.

They all try to spice up the bland script with the requisite
indie quirks and mannerisms, but they can't save the sinking
ship.

Who could have propped up the film, but didn't, is
Silverstone. Save for Kirkland the buxom waitress, Silverstone is
practically the only woman onscreen, so audiences don't have the
luxury of comparison. Other actresses would have made Silverstone
look more lame than she already does.

It's surprising to see Silverstone so boring. In Clueless,
Silverstone had screenwriter Amy Heckerling's wisecracks
confidently sussed around her rubber lips. In Excess Baggage, she
whinges her lame retorts.

Silverstone's big broad smile also disappears here --
intentionally.

Silverstone once said that she doesn't want to repeat her
cheery Clueless role, explaining her darker personality in Excess
Baggage. But she doesn't make the transformation whole enough,
weakening the film and her presence.

But whereas Silverstone once played Clueless with knowing
street-smarts (Cher was self-confidence personified), in Excess
Baggage, as she lets this sampling of cinematic fluff fall apart
around her, Silverstone is just plain clueless.