Cast: Kirsten Dunst, Cary Elwes, Edward Herrmann, Eddie Izzard, Joanna Lumley, Victor Slezak, Jennifer Tilly
Director: Peter Bogdanovich
Producers: Julie Baines, Kim Bieber, Carol Lewis, Dieter Meyer
Screenplay: Steven Peros, based on his play
Cinematography: Bruno Delbonnel
Music: Ian Whitcomb
U.S. Distributor: Lions Gate Films
Hollywood is built on the myths and legends of the past - its reputation rests upon the closeted skeletons of the movers and shakers of its early days. One of many such half-whispered stories occurred during a weekend in November 1924 on a boat owned by publishing magnate William Randolph Hearst. The "official" account, backed up by a perfunctory police investigation and the coroner's report, stated one thing, while the gossip columns and underground murmurs related another. For The Cat's Meow, director Peter Bogdanovich, working from Steven Peros' screenplay (which is an adaptation of his stage play), has chosen to present the most lurid version of what may have transpired during those few days nearly 80 years ago. And, while this movie may not represent historical fact, it's a fun sort of conjecture.
The people are real; the circumstances are highly speculative. There's Eddie Izzard as Charlie Chaplin, the movie star/director who is readying his next effort, something called The Gold Rush. Edward Herrmann is William Randolph Hearst, one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in the world. Hearst had a famous feud with Orson Welles, but he didn't like Chaplin much, either. The reason was starlet Marion Davies (Kirsten Dunst), Heart's mistress, whom he suspected of engaging in an affair with Chaplin. Helium-voiced Jennifer Tilley is gossip columnist Louella Parsons, and Joanna Lumley is author Elinor Glyn. The occasion that has brought these notable personages (and a few lesser-known ones) together on Hearst's ship is the birthday of movie producer Thomas Ince (Cary Elwes). By the time the weekend was over, Ince was at death's door. The Cat's Meow observes that the reason was not "acute indigestion" or "heart failure" (as the official reports stated) but a gunshot wound accidentally inflicted by a jealous lover.
In an odd way, The Cat's Meow reminds me a little of Robert Altman's Gosford Park, although the differences outnumber the similarities. Both films incorporate a murder, but are more interested in the various character interactions that lead up to it. Both work effectively with a large number of characters confined in a limited space. Both transpire during the first half of the 20th century, and mix fact with fiction. Finally, both use a similar unhurried approach that is more concerned with dialogue and social intercourse than with action. Beyond that, however, there is little to link the films.
Bogdanovich does an excellent job of establishing the setting. Despite a few familiar faces (Eddie Izzard is becoming established internationally and Kirsten Dunst is one of America's most prominent up-and-coming starlets), we have no trouble believing that we're watching the 1920s. Costumes, dialogue, and set design are impeccable. To view The Cat's Meow is to feel like a fly on the wall looking into the lives of the bigger-than-life personalities whose legacies include not only their work but their reputations. While the movie will play better to those with a good background in Hollywood's early years, The Cat's Meow will not lose anyone ignorant of Chaplin, Davies, Hearst, or Ince.
There are three standout performances: Izzard, whose Chaplin commands the screen with more authority than Robert Downey Jr.'s did in Richard Attenborough's bio-pic; Herrmann, who shows both sides of Hearst - the dark and the playful; and Joanna Lumley, who imbues Elinor Glyn with a ferocity to match her dry wit. Since she's playing a fatuous character, Jennifer Tilley manages not to seem too out-of-place. Good character actor that he is, Cary Elwes essays his part without stealing scenes. And, for Kirsten Dunst, this represents an opportunity to move away from playing teenagers. Her Marion is bubbly, but she does not captivate the camera the way some of her co-stars do.
Director Peter Bogdanovich's career peaked more than 30 years ago when he made The Last Picture Show. Since then, personal tragedies (he was involved with playmate Dorothy Stratten at the time of her murder) and a long string of box office duds have stripped the luster from his name. The Cat's Meow isn't the kind of movie that's likely to provide a large financial windfall for its distributor, Lions Gate Films, but it was never intended to. Bogdanovich made this film because this is a story he wanted to tell, and, from an artistic and entertainment perspective, it is the best movie he has made in the better part of a decade. The Cat's Meow isn't quite good enough to elicit a purr, but it represents better-than-average movie-making that doesn't demand a dumb, distracted audience.
© 2002 James Berardinelli