Swept Away Review
by David N. Butterworth (dnb AT dca DOT net)October 14th, 2002
SWEPT AWAY
A film review by David N. Butterworth
Copyright 2002 David N. Butterworth
** (out of ****)
Vanity! Heresy! Madonna!
The obvious nepotism notwithstanding, "Swept Away" is a literal, sun drenched,
100% unnecessary remake of Lina Wertmüller's 1974 film of the same name (actually,
that one was subtitled "...by an Unusual Destiny in the Blue Sea of August"). It's the latest from Guy Ritchie, the guy who made those gritty little crime dramas "Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels" and "Snatch" and the guy who married
Madonna (who should need no introduction lest you've been trapped in a mineshaft
since 1984 when "Like a Virgin" rocked the music world).
Not surprisingly, I guess, Ritchie's "Swept Away" stars Madonna (in the role first realized by the hot blooded Mariangela Melato), isn't nearly as good
as the original, and (surprisingly, perhaps) isn't nearly as bad a film as you might expect, although Mrs. Ritchie certainly makes a mockery of the fine art of screen acting in this one.
The burning answer to the remake question, of course, is "Why?" and I wish
I had an answer for you. Why take "Travolti da un Insolito Destino
Nell'azzurro
Mare D'agosto," an undisputed classic of Italian cinema and attempt to redo it, better it? Ritchie's version is very much in keeping with the original so we're not talking revisionist retread here. Perhaps it's simply another opportunity for the former Ms. Ciccone to try and prove she can Act?
If that's the case then it fails, glaringly. Madonna is doggish, dramatically,
but where it succeeds is in the casting of Adriano Giannini, son of the great Italian thespian Giancarlo Giannini (who appeared opposite Melato in the original
film and has graced many a Wertmüller movie and then some in his day). Giannini
Jr. does more than just slap Madonna around a bit in "Swept Away 2002"; he brings
the film some much-needed charm.
When we first see wealthy socialite Amber Leighton (Madonna) she's boarding
a private Mediterranean cruise ship with her pharmaceutical magnate of a husband
(stoically played by Bruce Greenwood) and an entourage of snooty friends including
a dipsy blonde and a bloody drunk (an embarrassing Jeanne Tripplehorn). These people are so rich they don't even realize they're sailing from Greece to Italy
(and not the other way around!). Madonna looks at least 80 in these scenes--buff
in the upper arm department but withered and skeletal just about every place else, her dark roots bursting through her platinum blonde curls like crabgrass at a picnic. On board she does her best Elizabeth Taylor impression by screaming
at the wait staff (in particular Giannini's Giuseppe Esposito) to bring her this, fetch her that, and cook whatever it is she's eating all over again.
The two greasy cooks and the captain in the ship's galley seem to find all this very amusing, but Pepe--or PeePee as Mrs. Leighton likes to call him--takes
the effrontery a little more personally.
When the two sparring adversaries wind up on a deserted island together (Leighton insists that Giuseppe dingy her to meet the others who are off exploring
some caves but the tide turns), the shoe quickly finds its way onto the other foot as the master/slave dynamic is startlingly reversed.
Wertmüller's film was a minor miracle of sexual and political intrigues. Ritchie's is not. It's "Swept Away" lite, highlighted by a lusty, lovable performance by Giannini, some impressive sunsets, and a wacky dream sequence in which Madonna proves what she *can* do (Pepe orders her to sing and dance, Leighton shuffles her feet a bit, squeaks a little and the next thing you know she's center stage of a lavish, big band production number lip-synching to Rosemary
Clooney's "Come On-A My House"). Since the film is true to Wertmüller's fascinating
original story it's always interesting to watch yet as one sharp-eyed viewer pointed out "lose Madonna and you've got yourself a pretty good picture."
If you're hoping to catch the Material Girl sans material by the way (and you might be excused for doing so, what with the film's R-rating for "some sexuality
nudity" and the poster art of Madonna and Giannini making out, Lancaster/Kerr style, in the surf), Ritchie offers us a couple of discrete long shots and that's
about it.
A word to the director. Your wife can sing. Your wife can dance. She's a master media manipulator with talent to spare but she really, truly cannot act. So if you're thinking about casting her in "Snatch 2," please! Don't!
--
David N. Butterworth
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