Review: Amelia

It's Oscar contender season, when the studios trot out the films they hope will capture the attention of the bearers of golden statuettes, and the box office revenue those little gold men bring.  One has to wonder just what Fox Searchlight was thinking when they chose to release Amelia.

It seems like a perfect match: Mira Nair (Monsoon Wedding, The Namesake) directing a cast of heavyweights, including Hilary Swank, Richard Gere, Ewan McGregor, Christopher Eccleston. Stuart Dryburgh had an Oscar nod for Best Cinematography for The Piano amongst his list of nominations and wins. Both editors, Allyson C. Johnson and Lee Percy, are seasoned professionals, and Johnson has worked on several Nair projects. The writers, Ron Bass (Rain Man, The Joy Luck Club) and Anna Hamilton Phelan (Girl, Interrupted, Mask) each have an Oscar nod. Two books about Earhart are used, including Susan Butler's East to the Dawn and Mary S. Lovell's The Sound of Wings, which should lend authenticity.

All that talent and an iconic protagonist ought to equal a riveting film. Unfortunately, Amelia is a wreck -- random cut-away shots, pretentious, soporific voiceovers, and more cloud shots than all the Highway to Heaven episodes combined. Swank's hair seemed to have a mind of its own.  Vintage-style headlines are tossed up on the screen and removed faster than the eye can read them, and that's the least of the cheap tricks. Monochrome footage simulating archival footage, some of which may be authentic, is distracting and randomly used. It's a textbook example of how to ruin a film.

That's more than enough to wreck a film, but couple that with a cast that seems to be sedated to the point of having not emotions to emit, and you're in for a tortuous 111 minutes.  The story does nothing to advance any understanding of Earhart, and instead paints her as passive, not passionate. There's supposed to be passion in the story, quite a bit of it, but it all falls short with heavy-handed poetry recitations. There's more heat in a chemistry text, which is where the chemistry seems to have been left, as there is none between any of the leads.  

Amelia doesn't feel like a Nair film. There's no smolder or longing, like Monsoon Wedding. The foreplay shots have no sensuality, like Kama Sutra: A Tale of Love.  Even the fiery drive seen in Vanity Fair is notably absent. Instead it feels like all the seasoned crew were comatose and interns with experience took over the shoot and the post production. The only plus is that physically, Swank seems to be Earhart's doppleganger. 

Earhart's wreck remains forever lost. Unfortunately that can't be said about this film, and the biggest mystery is why Amelia is being released in the "for your consideration" season.