One of the things that sparked my initial interest in movies so long ago was the unique way in which stories can be told cinematically.
That's not to say movies are better or worse than books or songs or other forms of storytelling. It's simply that this medium struck a chord in me.But in recent years, movies - in particular, mainstream Hollywood movies - have begun to shy away from narration and character development. Instead they emphasize thrills, razzle-dazzle special effects, dancing imagery. . . . In short, what is sometimes referred to as eye candy.
In such movies, stories sometimes come along for the ride, but just as often they seem almost entirely absent from the equation (see reviews of "Judge Dredd" and "Mighty Morphin Power Rangers: The Movie" in this section).
There's nothing wrong with eye candy in occasional doses, but the steady diet that is rapidly becoming the rule instead of the exception is beginning to wear thin. At least with this moviegoer.
So it was a real treat to stumble upon "Smoke," which is not only composed of a series of terrific stories but in its own way seems to be about the art, or perhaps the necessity of storytelling in the lives of everyday people.
A deceptively simple film, "Smoke" at first glance appears to be little more than an observation of intersecting lives, various and sundry characters who come and go from a Brooklyn tobacco shop run by Harvey Keitel.
But after a while it becomes apparent that the film is really an exploration of nobility. Not royalty or high society, mind you - but nobility among the meek, the wounded, the lonely and lowly. And, to some degree, about rebuilding lives.
And from the first credit it's obvious that this will be an unusually literary film, as it gives equal rank to the screenwriter - first-timer Paul Auster, who is something of a cult novelist - and the director, Wayne Wang ("The Joy Luck Club"). Most movies are credited primarily to the director, so the credit would be "A Wayne Wang Film." But "Smoke" opens as "A Film By Wayne Wang and Paul Auser," an indication that the dialogue and story are as important here as where the director has placed the camera and how well he coached the actors.
Episodic and broken down into "chapters," the stories themselves are rich, textured and quite compelling.
Keitel, who is the nominal central character in this ensemble piece, faces a dilemma - and a decision - when he is approached by an old girlfriend (Stockard Channing) and told that he has a grown daughter (Ashley Judd), and that she's a pregnant crack addict.
Meanwhile, tragically widowed writer William Hurt is lured by fate into the life of a young teenage runaway (Harold Perrineau Jr.), a fast-talking youngster who is in trouble with hoods from his hood, and who comes up with a clever way to worm his way into the life of the estranged father (Forest Whitaker) he has never known.
These tales, and others, are not wrapped up neatly at the end and there are unanswered questions to each and every one. But that's part of the charm. If you leave the theater wondering about these people and discussing some of the dangling plotlines, all the better.
All of the performances here are terrific, with Keitel leading the pack at his most relaxed and easy-to-like. And director Wang once again proves himself quite adept at making a film's simplest conversation seem wonderfully intriguing.
And under the closing credits is a bonus, a touching black-and-white silent movie that illustrates a Christmas story Keitel has just related to Hurt for the fadeout.
"Smoke" is a gem.
It's rated R for profanity and vulgar language, along with some violence.