Recently a coworker and I were mulling over the very bad movie Vanilla Sky. (Featuring Tom Cruise, who has probably made worse movies, and directed by Cameron Crowe, who hopefully bottomed out with Elizabethtown.) Vanilla Sky starts off as a stalker-chick story. Then it seems to morph into a psychological study about loss or something like that. Then it veers abruptly into science fiction territory. Watching it on PPV I felt like it was a movie that couldn’t decide what it wanted to be.
Of course that should really NOT be a huge knock on a movie. In fact, there’s nothing worse than a tired genre film – the kind where you feel you could have written every cliched plot device in your sleep – so on principle I think I should be giving an enthusiastic two-thumbs-up to any genre buster that manages to make its way out of the Hollywood machine.
Which brought me to reconsider, briefly, my lifelong criticism of the El Camino, that griffin with the head of a sedan and the butt of a truck, sired in the dark forges of Detroit. Again on principle, the El Camino seems daring and creative.
Alas, it’s also hideous. And Vanilla Sky was a disjointed mess.
Sometimes creativity and cojones are not enough.