ANTITRUST [3/10]

Published on: April 25th, 2001

USA 2001 /// director : Peter Howitt /// script : Howard Franklin /// cinematography : John Bailey /// editing : Zach Staenberg /// lead actors : Ryan Philippe, Tim Robbins, Claire Forlani, Rachael Leigh Cook /// 110 minutes

There are two things that make Antitrust difficult to actively dislike — though they aren’t enough to make the film actually any good. One is very prominent: Tim Robbins’ hilarious performance as Gary Winston, a genius software billionaire whose initials not-so-coincidentally reverse those of a certain real-life genius software billionaire. The other is a throwaway in-joke: during a news report in which three of Winston’s violent henchmen are identified, we briefly see their surnames Sheringham, Schmeichel, Soljskaer. For anybody still none the wiser, these are three top recent footballers for Manchester United. Peter Howitt, Antitrust’s director, is from Liverpool, and as such sees Man-U as bitter rivals.

This is Howitt’s follow-up to his surprise trans-Atlantic hit Sliding Doors — it’s his first American movie, and judging by its disastrous US box-office returns, it may well be his last. Its also part of an unfortunate run of bombs for Rachael Leigh Cook, along with Get Carter, Blow Dry and Josie and the Pussycats. Maybe she should just stay away from UK talent — both Carter and Josie featured Alan Cumming, Blow Dry was made and set in Yorkshire, and, in addition to Howitt behind the camera, Antitrust features English starlet Claire Forlani, who’s been a thoroughly convincing Yank in flops like Mallrats and Meet Joe Black. Both actresses are in dire need of a hit, and show enough talent in their underwritten Antitrust roles to suggest they deserve better.

It’s hard to be quite so charitable about the movies nominal star, the increasingly irritating Ryan Philippe – “I don’t think he knows how to act,” comments a character here in a classic hostage-to-fortune aside. Philippe wasn’t at all convincing as a hotheaded criminal in Way of the Gun, but at least his bulked-up physique fitted the characte. Here, he’s a self-proclaimed computer geek, and we never see him do any kind of exercise, let alone the strenuous working-out indicated by his bulging biceps. Then again, Antitrust follows the long-standing Hollywood rule that any film about super-intelligent people must itself be cringingly moronic.

The half-baked plot sees Robbins poaching hunky nerd Philippe to work on some amazing new software system – but Philippe soon discovers that behind his boss’s genial, Pringle-munching features lurks a ruthless megalomaniac, stealing everyone else’s ideas and murdering whoever gets in his way. The plagiarism angle is, lets say, intriguing, given Antitrust’s occasionally startling resemblances to the 1996 Charlie Sheen sci-fi conspiracy thriller The Arrival

There is a decent picture lurking somewhere here, but, unfortunately for Howitt and co, it’s a comedy. Whenever Robbins is on screen, even when he’s up to some fiendish act, there’s a cheeky energy about the picture that makes it surprisingly enjoyable – he does a subtle, fuzzy thing with his voice, a vaguely computerish burr that, along with his sandy hair and pale features, give Gary just the right kind of hologrammatic haziness. But the movie doesn’t realise its own strengths, and heads down increasingly predictable thriller routes, with Philippe wondering who he can trust: his artist girlfriend (Forlani) or his doe-eyed colleague (Cook)? There are endless shots of computer language zipping across monitor screens, with crashingly dramatic music dolloped all over the place in a desperate attempt to build tension. Similarly, Howitt indulges in all kinds of distracting, over-elaborate camerawork — there’s one especially rotten argument scene between Philippe and Forlani where the camera keeps circling the squabbling couple to no apparent effect, apart from inspiring audience nausea.

Everything is just so depressingly clunky : were told early on that Philippe has a potentially fatal allergy to sesame seeds, which of course leads to a supposedly suspenseful scene later on when he suspects he’s about to be poisoned, and surreptitiously scratches his arm with a fork, rubbing in the suspect sauce to see if his skin inflames. Played for laughs, it might just work. Played for suspense, it’s laughable. Even so, this is nothing compared with the asinine ludicrousness of the ending, in which Robbins’ vile activities are broadcast to the world by Philippe’s hacker friends – the montage of black-and-white images and blaring on-screen headlines come across like Michael Moore on acid. Except not so much fun.

Neil Young
24^th April, 2001