Moderator: Nelle
Trotz Englisch-LK verstehe ich das nicht ganz und da ich jetzt keine Zeit habe zum Wörterbuch zu greifen, kann mir vielleicht jemand von euch das übersetzen......the movie was filmed on oversize stages with 50s-era Gotham backdrops, and retrofied with candied, CinemaScopic colors.
Also mit Hugh gebe ich ihr recht, bei Fiennes kann ich es nicht beurteilen, weil ich den Film noch nicht gesehen habe... aber was schreibt sie denn da bitte über Ewan?A lament for the Leading Man
By JOHANNA SCHNELLER
Friday, December 20, 2002 – Page R1
Could Hugh Grant be the next Cary Grant? The question came up while I watched this season's two big-ticket romantic comedies, Maid in Manhattan, starring Jennifer Lopez and Ralph Fiennes, and Two Weeks Notice, which pairs Hugh with Sandra Bullock.
Both films are sadly ordinary -- cubic zirconia in a once diamond-bright genre. They tell the same story (rich guy woos poor but morally upright brunette), with the same set piece (gal wows guy by wearing a long dress to a fancy party), and the same soundtrack (songs by Norah Jones play in both films). Both even feature a sassy, supersized, supporting character -- played by the same actress, Sharon Wilkins.
Still, it's instructive to compare their leading men. Fiennes looks like he's sucking on a lemon peel, while Grant is actually appealing. Adjusting, of course, for the fact that nobody writes romantic comedies the way they used to -- that today's screenplays lack the irreverent, humane wit that defined Cary -- Hugh is deft on his feet, knows how to deliver a line, and cleans up nicely.
Most importantly, Hugh, like Cary before him, knows how to hang back and let his female partners sparkle in the spotlight. Making their women look really, really good is a skill that leading men once considered manly.
Unfortunately, those days are over. Ours is an era of Leading Boys. Over a dishy lunch, my friend John Lownsbrough, a writer and movie buff, and I went through the list of current male idols and lamented how far they've tumbled from the Cary Grant standard.
There are the Daddy's Boys, perpetual sons who are too busy avenging or attacking their fathers to pay attention to sex. Their leader is Tom Cruise, who comes of age in movie after movie, but can't seem to grow up.
His spiritual guru is Dustin Hoffman; his posse includes Matt Damon ("surprising edge, but not developed yet," John Lo says), Ben Affleck (Who here actually likes to watch Ben act? Anyone? Anyone?!), Owen Wilson (too class-clown) and John Cusack (cute but squirrelly).
There are the All-American Boys, decent, solid fellows who make darling uncles, but look itchy in black tie. This bunch is led by the triumvirate of truth -- Tom Hanks, Harrison Ford and Jeff Bridges -- and also includes Jeff Daniels, Bill Pullman, Bill Paxton and Brendan Fraser.
Both John Lo and I like Fraser a lot, and think he makes smart choices (his co-stars read like a master class in acting: Christopher Walken, Ian McKellen, Michael Caine). But he's a bit too solid and earnest for Granthood. "In the wrong light, he can look like Rodney Dangerfield," Lo says.
We have Pretty Boys, lean fellows with heartbreaking faces, but who don't quite cast a shadow. These include Jim Caviezel ("stunning, but no there there," Lo says), Campbell Scott ("too sane to want stardom"), Jude Law, Christian Bale, Ryan Phillippe and Johnny Depp (too slight to fantasize about without worrying that you'd break them in half), Taye Diggs (too self-involved), Richard Gere (ditto) and Antonio Banderas (his smoulder has too much smirk in it for me).
There are the Cowboys, guys who can handle the sex, but can't manage the elegance: Kris Kristofferson was one, as Chris Cooper is now. Brad Pitt, Dennis Quaid, Russell Crowe, Mel Gibson, Nick Nolte, Josh Lucas -- it's like the biggest guns of our time took Steve McQueen lessons, but skipped Fred Astaire class. (And I do mean class.)
George Clooney, who's also in this group, looks like a leading man. Watch his eyes, though, when he's supposed to be romancing a woman: He's too mistrustful, too withholding. He keeps saying in interviews that he'll never get married, and it shows. He's far more relaxed, happier-looking and sexier in roles where his co-stars are guys.
I much prefer Viggo Mortensen. Here at last is a poet who can push you up against the wall. He and Benicio del Toro are my lust objects du jour, but they're Brando's heirs, not Grant's. And their imitators are the Boys with Dirty Fingernails: Ewan McGregor, Dermot Mulroney, Jeremy Davies, Philip Seymour Hoffman.
Which brings us back to Brit Boys. Clive Owen has potential, as does Jeremy Northam, but we haven't yet seen what they can do. On the other hand, we've seen way too much of what Pierce Brosnan can't do -- I mean, the man managed to render Halle Berry sexless. I'm keeping my fingers crossed for Hugh Jackman and Colin Firth, though they seem to shine more in period pieces.
In the end, John Lo and I think Rupert Everett comes closest to Cary Granthood. He's sexy, funny, dashing. Like Grant, he has a strong feminine side; he likes women, he gets them. Unlike Grant, however, Everett is openly gay. Ironically, today's more honest sexual climate may be his undoing. "God bless him for having the guts to come out," Lo says, "though maybe if he'd stayed in the closet, he could have inherited Grant's place. What's left of it, anyway. But now that everyone knows Everett is gay, the element of ambiguity that made Grant so fascinating is gone." Not to mention, the likelihood of Everett's being offered leading roles in big-budget romances. We both sigh.
So we're stuck with Hugh. Though he's too laddish and too ironic about romance itself to take Cary's place, he has the right last name. These days, that may be as close as we can get.
Ein Brando-Imitator? 
Sonst geht's noch? 
Nein, ich habe noch keinen gesehen...
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Und einen passenden Drucker dazu habe ich auch.