She's got saliva
Partway through Bandits, Kate (Cate Blanchett)
is asked to choose between her two bank-robber lovers,
Joe (Bruce Willis) and Terry (Billy Bob Thornton). The
guys are buddies from way back (early in the film they
break out of prison together, plowing through the
front gate in a cement truck), but now that they've
both slept with the spectacularly willful Kate, each
wants his claim to her made clear. Angrily, they
confront one another, and then turn to Kate for a
resolution. But she decides not to decide, declaring
that making such a choice would be a simplistic
solution to a complicated situation. Bewildered, the
men protest and hem and haw. And then they agree -- at
least initially -- to her terms.
So far, so like Jules and Jim meets Bonnie
and Clyde. And of course, Kate is right: the
situation is complicated. And, as Barry Levinson's
romance-caper movie is nothing if not predictable, you
know that it will only become more so. To start, Joe
and Terry aren't just ordinary bank robbers. They're
famous, featured on television as the "sleepover
bandits," so named because they spend the night before
each robbery at some hapless bank manager's suburban
home, then steal the money the next morning, without
violence or even much fuss. Viewers of a tv show
called Criminals At Large, an America's Most
Wanted-type series hosted by the egotistical
Darren Head (Bobby Slayton), take a liking to them,
and some victims appreciate the brush with celebrity
they offer. Joe himself believes the hype -- that they
are "Robin Hoods" -- insisting that they "never stole
a penny from anyone who earned it," only federally
insured bank stashes. Still, the analogy is strained
and self-serving: as far as I can tell, they keep the
money they steal. Though maybe Joe does "give back,"
when he spends his cut on booze, hotels, and hookers,
much to Terry's distress.
Indeed, like most all movie buddies, Joe and Terry
are set up as "opposites": Joe is the intuitive man of
action and little thought, Terry is the man of too
much thought, neurotically planning every detail of
their exploits ("The hardest thing about being smart,"
he says, "is that you always know what's going to
happen next"). Conveniently, this combination appears
to be just what Kate is looking for. She shows up some
20 minutes into the film, literally running into Terry
with her car. She's running away from her diffident
businessman husband; he's running from the cops,
having just abandoned his out-of-gas car (apparently,
he doesn't always know what's going to happen
next). Worried that she's injured him, Kate offers
Terry a ride to the hospital, and he responds by
trying to carjack her vehicle. But Kate's at the end
of her rope and just drives faster (shades of
Nothing to Lose). "You're insane!" observes
Terry. "I'm unhappy," she says brusquely, "There's a
difference."
Such moments make Bandits more watchable than
it might have been. Blanchett is riveting in a part
that never gels. Perhaps best known for her brilliant
dramatic performances in Elizabeth and Oscar
and Lucinda, or maybe the small part she had in
The Talented Mr. Ripley, she brings to Kate
relative depth, no small thing, considering the
clichis arrayed against her. Kate is a slightly
elaborated version of the usual
girl-in-between-two-buddies, primarily serving as
reassurance that the men are indeed heterosexual. At
the time she shows up, these buddies also have
something resembling a third term in tow, their goofy
driver, Harvey (Troy Garity), an aspiring Hollywood
stuntman and self-styled FX expert (if you know
anything about caper flicks, you know that detail will
become crucial in the denouement). Though everyone
sees that it's a bad idea, Kate becomes the gang's
"permanent hostage," when for some reason, Joe the
habitual womanizer is smitten (this because of and
despite Terry's warning, "Kate's an iceberg waiting
for the Titanic"). But after she beds each one --
separately -- both come up with their own reasons for
loving her, or more precisely, for being sucked into
her mostly cheery manic-depressive vortex. Where
intellectual, neurotic Terry likes her impulsiveness
and passion, action-oriented Joe puts it more
reductively: "She's got saliva," meaning, he explains,
she kisses well.
His investigation of her moist delights begins with a
scene lifted from It Happened One Night: they
share a bed, separated by a blanket hanging from the
ceiling (clever Joe acknowledges his inspiration: "I
saw it in a movie"). As Terry listens in from the
other room, Joe and Kate discover they share a special
affection for Bonnie Tyler's "Total Eclipse of the
Heart," quoting together, "Once upon a time, I was
falling in love / Now I'm only falling apart!" (Though
Joe calls it the "ultimate sappy chick song," he does
know all the words, which apparently proves his
worthiness, for Kate.) By contrast, her first night
with Terry begins when he lists a few of his many
hypochondriacal symptoms. Turns out that Kate's a
willing nurse, and besides, she says, she appreciates
his ostensible intellect.
Okay, Kate's a little strange, but wacky dames are
the usual impetus for great screwball, sometimes even
subversive, comedy. Though it looks like it might have
been fun to make (Blanchett gets to paint Thornton's
toenails to show their evolving closeness, rather than
actually having to snuggle with Angelina Jolie's
husband), Bandits never becomes subversive or
screwball. True, Kate declares herself an "outlaw"
when she refuses to choose between her lovers (whose
own criminality, of course, needs no announcement or
defense, since men who rob banks automatically
qualify), but she's only able to measure herself in
standard romantic and domestic terms.
The emotional three-way proceeds until, inevitably,
the men can stand it no longer. One night they begin
fighting, awkwardly flailing at one another's faces,
falling through a plate glass window, scrambling over
themselves in the dirt. Kate watches for a minute,
then loses her patience. Though she declares that
together, they form the "perfect man" (whatever that
might mean), as individuals, they really are too
silly. Tossing her outrageously red hair, she throws
up her hands and yells out loud enough that Joe and
Terry actually pause their wrestling and drop their
jaws: "This is over!" Would that it were. But no,
there's a bit more non-action that needs to happen for
Bandits to find its ostensibly happy ending.
And so, the film continues to offer up retread movie
moments, including a return to its
Swordfish-like opening scene, where the boys
are trapped in a bank with fearful hostages,
surrounded by half the LAPD, and arguing vehemently
with one another over -- wouldn't you know? -- the
lovely, vivacious, and ever-so-desirable Kate.
But by this point, it's become clear that the movie
is not about her, bit about how she benefits, shapes,
and adds detail to them. In fact, Bandits's
most potentially rambunctious, if not exactly
innovative, relationship belongs to Terry and Joe.
It's increasingly obvious that they use Kate to work
through their own co-dependency and intimacy issues,
and well... let's just say that this particular film
isn't going to consider that possibility. Such
convoluted, anxious-making male bonding is familiar
ground for director Levinson (Diner, Rain
Man, Sleepers). And in what may be this
incessantly self-conscious film's most self-conscious
sequence, the guys act out their relationship in an
appropriately hysterical and mediated context. As a
way to manipulate their fans and the cops, Joe and
Terry grant an interview to Darren Head. Moments from
this interview appear throughout Bandits (and
as outtakes during closing credits), as if to
underline the elaborate performance of their
camaraderie. This may be their saving grace: at some
level, Terry and Joe know what they are, generic
buddies in a generic buddy film, no matter how
delicious Kate and her saliva.