Liverpool Sound And Vision Rating 5/10
Cast: Charlize Theron, Seth Rogan, June Diane Raphael, O’ Shea Jackson Jr, Ravi Patel, Bob Odenkirk, Andy Serkis, Tristan D. Lalla, Alexander Skarsgard, Aladeen Tawfeek, Nathan Morris, Wanya Morris, Shawn Stockman, Isla Dowling, Aviva Mongillo, Lisa Kudrow.
Rags to riches, we all dream of bettering the hand we have been played, to take on the phantom dealer of the cruel hand of fate and lending our name to the appropriate nature of immortality. Few though hold their nerve by sticking to their principals, by refusing to yield to temptation that such rapid rise might entail, and whilst they will probably end up forever having their dreams dashed, at least they can do so with a clear conscious and a heart that is light and with sign no sign of corruption in their soul.
The rags to riches story, for so long held either in the fantastic children’s tales in which a lowly servant or street urchin is taken in by a kindly but persuasive figure, or even in the characters who are unaware they are pawn in a social experiment, a bet made between gentlemen and rogues, has often in recent times been seen as the female preserve, the good time girl captured effortlessly by Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman has a lot to answer for in that respect. Whilst it is undoubtedly a good yarn, a polished film in which the meaning of the victim of the system is transformed into a lady of position, it also adheres to the fantasy in which the metamorphosis is only attained because of the will of the man, the nature of the masculine seizing the opportunity to alter the fate of another by means of fiscal improvement.
Such a case for any film dealing with this opportunity that it owes more to the works of the romance novels and one that doesn’t leave a good taste in the mouth when seen objectively. A victimless crime into which even when the genders are reversed and the female becomes the symbol of granting improvement, still feels forced, owing to the nature of ownership rather than compromise, one captured by Jerry Lewis quite superbly in the 1960 film Cinderfella, and one that is relegated in depth and charm in Long Shot.
The feeling of being forced into a relationship with a piece of art should never feel comfortable, if a film especially manages to thrust you into such a situation then it can place a dilemma in terms of satisfaction received, if such a case arises then the responsibility of association rests firmly with the viewer. In Long Shot, despite its well-meaning attempt to gallantly subvert the narrative passed down through cinema, it somehow reaches into a trench in which one of the golden rules of such transformation is side-lined, broken, that both protagonists need to be seen as people, not trophies in which society holds up as beacons of glamour. My Fair Lady employed this charmingly, Cinderfella punctured the pomposity of the male ego, Long Shot does neither, and whilst the premise is welcoming, the overall effect is one that sinks into the realm of the over exhausting sexual conquest.
A film that could have been driven further along the road to a higher place of enjoyment, Charlize Theron showing that she is made of stern stuff when it comes to comedy, but in the end is brought down by the way the film sees itself more as an paramour to There’s Something About Mary than to the pursuit of improvement.
Ian D. Hall