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12 • THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN
FILM
THURSDAY, MARCH 27, 2003
'Willard' not deserving of remake
REVIEW
Dear aspiring filmmaker:
Crispin Glover's character communicates with rats in the movie Willard. The movie is a remake of the 1971 movie of the same name.
Contributed art
As a guy who's seen more than a few movies in his time, let me offer you this piece of advice: If, at some point in your career, you feel it absolutely necessary to remake an older movie, at least remake a bad movie.
Aaron Passman apassman@kansan.com
Case in point: Willard, the recent remake of the 1971 movie of same name.
In the current remake, directed by Glen Morgan (Final Destination), the titular character is portrayed by Crispin Glover (best known as Back To The Future's George McFly). Willard is a troubled, friendless man who discovers he has a mysterious connection with rats. Thus, Willard uses his ability to communicate with rats, commanding them like a rodent army and exacting revenge upon his tormenters and all those who pushed him around — in particular his boss Mr. Martin (R. Lee Ermey, best known as the drill sergeant from Full Metal Jacket).
WILLARD ... C
A colleague of mine made the comment that Willard is a 90-minute movie with only about 10 minutes of story. That's a pretty accurate description. One of the problems early on is that we never see Willard build his connection with the rats. After a few futile attempts to clear out his rat-infested basement, he befriends a small white rat whom he names Socrates. And shortly afterward, lo and behold, he finds he can communicate with the rats! But that's about as far as it goes. We never get to see Willard bond with the rats — one minute they're just the basement pests and the next they're his best friends.
If anyone was ever meant to play as bizarre a role as Willard Stiles though, it surely has to be Crispin Glover. And while his pale skin, dark hair and seemingly shy,
Starring: Crispin Glover, R. Lee Ermey, Laura Elena Harring and Jackie Burroughs.
Rated PG-13 for terror, violence, some sexual content and language.
Playing at South Wind 12 Theatres, 3433 Iowa St.
sensitive nature seem perfect for the role, sometimes it's too much. An actor should never show his or her top, because there's not much more they can give. Sometimes Glover goes too far, as in the scene where Willard meets with the insurance investigator at his mother's funeral.
In this scene, he freaks out, and his performance is so over the top that it's hard to even consider taking it seriously. But despite moments like these, there are moments when Glover is simply perfect for the role and, considering the lack of hardly any supporting roles (aside from the rats, that is), it's good that Glover can basically carry the film on his own.
But the real stars of the show are the rats. Socrates' and Willard's nemesis Ben, a monstrous, nearly foot-long rat who acts as the general of the rats to Willard's commander-in-chief, the rats are exactly what they should be — slithery, dirty, and
squirm-inducing. Plus, the fact that it's damn hard to tell what was computer-generated and what was simply a real, honest-to-God rodent only help the movie overcome its massive limitations.
But when Willard is good it's great, such as the shot of Willard standing amidst literally a sea of rats streaming out from an elevator shaft. But hands down the movie's best aspect is the Stiles mansion. Willard's home is simply perfect — large, old, foreboding, ominous and downright creepy — exactly what it should be. His home seems to fit perfectly with his character, and in a movie as touch-and-go as Willard, you
have to take what you can get.
I'll be honest: For as much as I was anticipating Willard, I wasn't expecting much from it, and I got what I was expecting. But the lessons contained therein are valuable lessons for the future filmmakers of the world, and despite its hindrances (of which there are many), Willard has much to offer the future filmmakers of the world.
Sincerely, Your faithful film critic
Passman is a Towanda junior in journalism and film.
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