Smug and sophomoric, ”Grand Canyon” is an attempt by writer-director Lawrence Kasdan (”The Big Chill,” ”Silverado”) to summon up all the fears and disappointments he senses as a wealthy white resident of a major American city as the 20th Century draws to a close.
It`s a movie that means to take a cosmic perspective-the image of the title is used, among other things, to suggest just how tiny human beings might appear in the context of the great, wide universe-but remains so tightly bound by the perspective and assumptions of its demographic target group that it finally seems merely self-pitying.
Collaborating with his wife, Meg Kasdan, on the screenplay, the director means to create a panoramic view of a great city (in this case, Los Angeles)in which rich and poor, white and people of color, and even men and women are drifting irrevocably apart-a gap that yields yet another metaphorical Grand Canyon.
The characters speak in low, steady voices and the soundtrack is made to seem eerily hushed and cathedral-like, to let us know that we are in the presence of Big Questions.
Kevin Kline, Kasdan`s longtime alter ego, plays Mack, a prosperous but liberal-minded immigration lawyer whose car breaks down in a rough
neighborhood as he is returning from a basketball game. As a group of feral teenagers begins to circle threateningly around his expired auto, a courageous tow-truck driver, Simon (Danny Glover, another Kasdan regular), shows up and faces them down, employing no weapon other than his massive moral authority.
Mack immediately wants to befriend him, though his motivations seem somewhat self-serving. Mack seems inordinately impressed by the ability of a black man such as Simon to identify with a prosperous Caucasian rather than the violent, drug-crazed hoodlums with whom he happens to share an ethnic background. Their bonding, rapid but guilty, retains an unfortunate
”Huckleberry Finn” quality, allowing Mack to bathe in Simon`s strength and moral stature and share in the nobility of the oppressed.
Every time Simon begins to speak about the sad state of the world (which is quite often), a celestial choir swells on the soundtrack behind him, just as if he were Charlton Heston talking from the mount. It is not enough that Simon selflessly rescue Mack; his saintly attributes must also include a hearing-impaired daughter who lives in Washington (never seen, she
communicates through a teletext system) and a troubled teenage nephew who is tempted by the gangs.
Intertwined with the romance of Mack and Simon`s growing friendship is the melodramatic story of Mack`s neglected wife, Claire (soulful-eyed Mary McDonnell, of ”Dances With Wolves”). Claire has a sense of encroaching emptiness in her life-her teenage son has left for summer camp; she may be aware that her husband is enjoying a timid flirtation with his pretty secretary, Dee (Mary-Louise Parker)-that is suddenly answered when she finds a tiny baby abandoned in a clump of woods (shot by Kasdan as an enchanted, fairy-tale forest) near her home.
Claire bathes, dresses and coos over the child, going into a zombielike trance of intense motherly devotion; it does not occur to her to call the police until Mack, returning to find her in the midst of what seems to be a nervous breakdown, insists that she get in touch with the authorities. Claire is stunned and promises herself to get the baby back.
The third storyline, and the most blithely self-serving, concerns Mack`s best friend, Davis (Steve Martin, playing very straight), a highly successful producer of ultraviolent films who is based, with no visible abashment, on Hollywood figure Joel Silver, the producer of ”Die Hard,” ”Predator” and, most recently, ”The Last Boy Scout.” It`s a bit unseemly of Kasdan, whose credits, after all, include the screenplays for ”Raiders of the Lost Ark”
and ”Return of the Jedi,” to scold others for creating mindless escapism.
Davis rediscovers the spiritual values he has lost in his crass and cynical quest for success when, irony of ironies, he is shot in the leg by a crazed street hood who might have stepped from one of his own movies. But Davis` anatomically correct reaction to the shooting, which is followed by months of painful rehabilitation, is anything but movie fantasy-this, Kasdan says, is real life, and real life hurts.
”Grand Canyon” proceeds as if its characters were discovering pain-be it physical, emotional or just the generalized Weltschmerz of our decadent age-for the very first time. It is something they perceive, not as the way of the world or an integral, unavoidable part of existence, but as something unfairly imposed upon them-an undeserved intrusion into their heretofore wholly coddled existences.
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In the film`s most preposterous sequence, Mack dreams that he is flying over the city, an angel of mercy who drops in to witness the private agony of his friends and acquaintances. Heaping the sins of the world upon his shoulders, Mack becomes a figure who might be more appropriate in an Easter rather than a Christmas-season release.
Kasdan has enough taste not to tie his story strands together too neatly, though in the end all the major plot lines have been resolved positively. This is a calculated feel-bad movie, as weirdly concentrated and synthetic as any relentlessly upbeat Hollywood project, yet one that is willing to go only so far. It pulls back from the edge of genuine despair, much as its characters peer over the edge of the title canyon. They may be impressed by the void, and even fleetingly tempted by it, but in the end they`ve made sure they`re safe. ”GRAND CANYON”
(STAR)(STAR)
Directed by Lawrence Kasdan; written by Lawrence Kasdan and Meg Kasdan;
production designed by Bo Welch; photographed by Owen Roizman; edited by Carol Littleton; music by James Newton Howard; produced by Lawrence Kasdan, Charles Okun and Michael Grillo. A Twentieth Century Fox release; opens Jan. 10 at the Water Tower, Webster Place and outlying theaters. Running time: 2:14. MPAA rating: R. Strong language.
THE CAST
Simon……………………………………………….Danny Glover
Mack…………………………………………………Kevin Kline
Davis……………………………………………….Steve Martin
Claire…………………………………………….Mary McDonnell
Dee……………………………………………Mary-Louise Parker
Jane……………………………………………….Alfre Woodard