December 27, 2019
The first thing you want to know is, does Adam Sandler really pull this off? Be prepared: This role is tailored so tightly to him that no one else could fit, and we are seeing him if not naked then stripped of protective layering for the first time. His zany comic madness heightens the stress level of what is already a frenetic situation. This man is a hustler, a hawker, who never stops talking his way out. Yes, another talent could have played Howard Ratner, but Howard then would have been an altogether different person, and I can't find a better way to commend Sandler than that.
The question I keep asking myself, though, is different. But we'll get to that later. More important is to praise Uncut Gems as a fine achievement that centers not just on Sandler's performance but also on incisive writing and rapid dialogue. Plenty of films squeeze their protagonists under deadline pressure; rarely is it so keenly felt. Howard's ordeal takes place over several days, yet his and others' effusions make even the zwanzig Minuten of Lola Rennt seem longer in comparison.
Howard runs a New York jewelry store. He's the kind of hopelessly lost, manic gambler who will pawn Kevin Garnett's championship ring for the loan to make another bet, which, if won, would allow him to pay back the goons he owes.
Hence let us not forget that Howard is a virtuosic opportunist as well. He pawns other clients' collateral. He's used a family connection to obtain more loans, which are also past due. He's cheating on his wife Dinah (Idina Menzel), who plans to divorce him, with his office subordinate, Julia. When he catches Julia occupying the same small bathroom as The Weeknd, he goes back hat in hand to Dinah. Gorgeous in her old bat mitzvah dress, she rightfully scorns him. So he forgives Julia. Listing all this, now, I realize: That we take his side at all speaks wonders for Sandler's performance and the Safdies' direction.
Because he really is up against it. Pawning Rolexes and NBA rings isn't even his big play. Howard brokers a deal to receive a rock, uncut opal, from Ethiopia. It is this rock that catches Garnett's eye, that Howard thinks will net him almost a million dollars, and that sets into motion the scheme after scheme Howard devises to pay back what's owed before disaster befalls him. Every new plan is another final last stand.
Is gambling addiction a disease or rather a series of decisions that have imprisoned Howard? Ebert once wrote how Little Women (just remade again) presented life as the limitless potential bounded little by little by our decisions over time. Those women are restricted by corsets and pre-feminist culture, but they arrive at their destinies by passing over or choosing mates and vocations, closing doors and opening others; Howard's decisions truly have bound him. By joining Howard in medias res (you will see later that I wish this were more literally true), the Safdies generate considerable compassion for their man. Another film entirely could be made expanding the timeline so we witness the full tragedy enacted on his family. Perhaps those who deserve our help and sympathy most, the film seems to say, are those who have brought ruin upon themselves, not the innocent sufferers. Intellectually, I can be persuaded, even if we don't vote that way with our checkbooks.
What Julia tells The Weeknd in the bathroom reveals exactly the frailty of her self-esteem and the reason Howard is so irate to find them there. Largely it mirrors the frailty Howard feels and the merciless opportunism he displays. It could have been any other line---importantly, there could have been no line---but like so often in this film, it is a savvy selection. Conversation, raw spewing of emotion, and rapid-fire banter drive the plot, not action and not visuals. The characters talk and talk and talk, and it never grows old.
I would say the film shares this quality with Marriage Story, but that miscasts the films' souls. Marriage Story draws from the stage; this resembles stream-of-consciousness writing, or perhaps nothing so much as a two-hour Jewish family meal, or a loud Italian one, where chaos reigns and screaming only sometimes conveys anger.
In fact, this is every bit a Jewish tale as it is a gritty New York one or a gambling one, and more should be made of this. The Safdies clearly link Howard and Jewish New York with Jewish Ethiopia and the mines where nameless workers risk life and limb to extract the opal. They also ask a pointed question of Arno, Howard's uncle, whom we can see struggling to weigh familial ties against business.
So often the glitz mingles with the dregs. You're always just one bet away from either. Uncut Gems is littered with glimpses of the famous: Kevin Garnett, Mike Francesa, The Weeknd. It might seem like an Entourage episode at times. Some play themselves and some play others. Celebrity performances can be tricky. How the Safdies weave KG into the narrative is impressive. They use the real 2012 conference semifinals as a backdrop for Howard's incessant gambling, and they elicit a strong, Ray Allen-like understated performance from Garnett. This is one film that incorporates the big names well.
You can see the seams in some of the details, and I only mention this because they don't seem like changes that were made for artistic purposes but rather simple oversights. We will forgive Sandler for asking for ESPN when clearly that's TNT's music playing. Only a sports-theme fiend like me would notice, but then again Howard is an addict who likely watches more sports than I do. Anyway in my theatre on Market Street we were still rooting for the Sixers.
That wasn't the only thing that brought me back to Chariots of Fire, another film where my compatriots are the opponents we're supposed to root against. The score by Daniel Lopatin is jarring and straight from the 80s. What was landmark then seems out of touch here, and this has no signature melodies to bolster its case like Vangelis did. It probably serves its purpose in accompanying the journey-through-the-opal and -colon of disorienting us, but damn if it isn't wearing grandpa's clothes to the disco.
That journey will lead us eventually to the question that riddled me. When I was a kid I discovered I had a talent for crafting speeches with a simple formula. I would thread a theme into the opening that I would revisit at the end. It seemed to give those speeches added depth and an orator's touch. It certainly can, though in my less inspired work it reeked of pretension. You cannot simply slap a bookend onto both sides and call it profound. That is rather what we call modern art, finger-paint strewn on a canvas and valued at millions---said to have great meaning, in fact deplorable.
So I ask: What is the distinct, risk-taking style of the first and last frames trying to convey? The meat of the film gives us this pavement-pounding, street-level view. A wise and fulfilling choice. The opening and closing wade esoterically through kaleidoscopic colors and stars. There must be a reason. Otherwise, why not just parachute us in, running full tilt alongside Howard in the opening credits?
If it serves to link Howard with the miners, that's also explicitly mentioned by Howard in the script. If Howard is the uncut gem---well, metaphor is like comedy. We have to think some might miss it in order for us to value it.
The closing shot parallels the opening, but only superficially. Just as we zoom in on the opals in the beginning, so also we zoom in later. But technique alone does not convey meaning. Plus, the last laudable telephoto zoom shot I've seen was in The Hunt for Red October---and that had a good reason for it. Now that look is just as outdated as the score. Both the music and the bookending few minutes belong in a different film. They are trying to create a mood that the events should. And here's the thing---the events do, no dressing needed.
3-and-a-half of 4
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