Keanusgiving (pt. IV)

Much Ado About Nothing

Feeling Minnesota

Greetings and good luck to you, dear readers, on this dreaded, dismal Thanksgiving week. It’s not just my cat grief talking, I am not the biggest fan of Thanksgiving. I’m not the biggest fan of turkey, early dinners, football, or giving forced-thanks, but you know what I am a fan of? Keanu Reeves. Watching Keanu movies on this holiday is a tradition that I have upheld inconsistently for years now, because his breathy, distinct voice is soothing to me—especially during this hectic time—and I can find joy in even the worst projects that this gorgeous man takes on. Keanu Reeves graced this earth on September 2nd, 1964, and hasn’t stopped being iconic since. He’s an actor, a musician, a philanthropist, an action hero and a blockbuster dreamboat who can effortlessly slip into any genre of film—and he often does so quite memorably. There are so many second-and-third-hand stories I could tell you, to demonstrate the external and internal beauty of this individual, but one anecdote that I’ll never get over comes from the My Own Private Idaho (RIP Udo Kier) shoot: “Because River Phoenix’s agent refused to show him the film treatment for My Own Private Idaho, in late 1990 Keanu Reeves rode his motorcycle from Canada to Phoenix’s hometown of Gainesville, Florida to hand deliver it himself.” There’s generous, there’s altruistic, and then there’s the effortlessly wise, earnestly angelic Keanu. He is often ridiculed for his acting style, for the roles he chooses, for his consistent and easy accessibility despite his clear introvert status, but I think many of his critics desire exactly what Keanu embodies so casually: a palpable pleasantness that cannot be faked. Keanu has appeared in several films explored on this blog, and has probably been referenced several other times that I am forgetting, because I just can’t get enough of this bodacious brunette bro. From Ted of Bill and Ted, to John Wick of John Wick, no matter what role he’s occupying, Keanu approaches it with sincerity and passion and an unshakable likability. His voice, his smile, his history of being a good person, always genuinely puts me at ease. I’m not into ASMR, but I think I experience a similar feeling of euphoria when I see him on screen. I can’t guarantee that your Thanksgiving will be peaceful, but I can guarantee the peaceful quality of a full-throttle, full-ridiculous Keanu Reeves film, so let’s gobble up two more right now.

Up first is a classic, impeccably-cast, absurdly aesthetically-beautiful film that I’ve seen referenced on people’s tumblrs for years: this is Kenneth Branagh’s 1993 adaptation of Shakespeare’s play Much Ado About Nothing. As a former English major and English teacher’s pet, I have a level of disdain for Shakespeare that I cannot succinctly put into words. It is perhaps my most low-brow opinion, but I have only ever been charmed or entertained or mildly amused by the more modern retellings of Shakespeare like She’s the Man, 10 Things I Hate About You, and Baz Luhrman’s Romeo + Juliet. To retain any knowledge of Shakespeare’s works is a bit like knowing a lot about the Bible to me, because while I think this was once a sort of impressive skill, I really don’t give a shit now, lol. That being said, I do try to keep an open mind, especially when Keanu Reeves is involved. But Keanu isn’t the only hottie at the height of his game here, Much Ado About Nothing also stars young, ultra-tan, and hot versions of Emma Thompson, Robert Sean Leonard, Kate Beckinsale, Denzel Washington, Imelda Staunton, the director and screenwriter himself, Kenneth Branagh, and Michael Keaton. Well, I can’t say that Michael Keaton is hot in this per se, as he is comfortably occupying another slovenly, gross role here, as he loves to do so much, but I still found him to be one of the more charming characters in a movie that should’ve been overflowing with charm. Much Ado About Nothing transports us to a stunning and idyllic town in Italy called Messina, where a flock of some of the aforementioned young, ultra-tan hot people seemingly all reside together in one large villa. This tanned and sweaty and frolicking congregation of people receive news of a Prince named Don Pedro of Aragon (Washington), who will soon be arriving with the rest of his noblemen, who just defeated an attempted uprising by his brother, Don Jon (Keanu) and everyone swiftly rushes to bathe and dress themselves before they get there. Don Pedro’s crew consists of the hot-headed and sexist bachelor Benedick (Branagh), the sweet and young and easily-influenced Claudio (Leonard), and his suspicious Don Jon—whom we’re meant to believe was just totally cool with his brother beating him in battle days before. The men have come to pay a visit to their friend, Governor Leonato (Richard Briers), but meet lots of gorgeous women here as well. Almost immediately, Don Pedro starts playing matchmaker, and wishes to set up his boy Claudio with the only daughter of the governor, named Hero (Beckinsale), and the real victory would be to set up proud-bachelor Benedick with his long-time pen pal and frenemy: the independent Beatrice (Thompson) who explicitly says more than once that she doth need no man. While caught up in this frenzy of frivolous flirtations, no one notices that the stone-but-gorgeous-faced Don Jon is scheming, which is really hard to believe—on account of Keanu being so noticeably fucking hot. Everyone in this movie is hot, honestly, truly, but Keanu is always gonna out-mug, out-body, and out-spirit everyone, even here, with his prickly facial hair and resting bitch face. And sure, we see Keanu in leather pants getting a brief hot-oil massage in this film, but that wasn’t nearly enough for me. I’m fine with him playing the villain—although I don’t think it particularly suits him—but I am not fine with him being so underutilized as he is here. If he has no lines in a scene, okay, sure, but can’t he at least stand in the background and mysteriously brood at all of this ninny nonny nonsense, Kenneth Branagh? I suppose I should tell you more of the specifics of Much Ado About Nothing’s plot, of how cheeky and bawdy and utterly hilarious this comedy of errors was meant to be, but the entire thing just annoyed me, really. It’s not just because I’m an uber-fan, but at a certain point I began to root for Keanu the villain to cause strife because I couldn’t find anyone else worth rooting for, and I was just unbelievably bored. There was so much whimsy and giggling and classic Shakespearean misdirection(s) that I began to actually feel allergic to these characters’ happiness. It’s not even the iambic bullshit, the overacting, or the lame jokes that got on my nerves, but the story as a whole. I didn’t know much of anything before watching Much Ado About Nothing, which is shocking really, due to the virtually unavoidable presence of Shakespearean stories and tropes that are present in pop culture—so that should’ve been my first red flag. Apparently Kenneth Branagh was lobbying and negotiating to get this film made for years leading up to it, because Disney and Paramount, like myself, were exhausted by the dialogue of this film and didn’t have faith in its success. The tedium of this film just wore me down. It is a mid-tier Shakespeare at best, and a half-assed innuendo, even for Shakespeare: because, I guess, “no thing” used to be slang for “no penis” which used to be slang for “vagina” and the entire inciting concern of this film is whether or not this teenage bride is a virgin or not. Cute, right? No one’s ever allowed to judge me for liking bro cinema like The Girl Next Door and Superbad when Shakespeare was writing (or potentially plagiarizing) shit like this. And I am fairly certain that people only praise this one because the cast is so iconic and pretty, which is lovely, but not enough for this critic.

Tonight’s next film had a similarly stacked cast and an unpredictable tediousness to it as well, despite Keanu’s impeccable face appearing in it more, this is Steven Baigelman’s 1996 movie Feeling Minnesota. Fun fact: the title of this film comes from the song “Outshined” by Soundgarden (“I just looked in the mirror and things ain’t looking so good, I'm looking California, and feeling Minnesota”) and when lead singer Chris Cornell was advised by his lawyer that he could sue the filmmakers, he opted not to, as he was mostly just embarrassed about his song inspiring this appalling flop of a movie. Steven Baigelman’s first and, as of this writing, only movie opens on a young boy and his snot-nosed bully of an older brother, as they roughhouse around a drab looking Minnesota landscape. As the film’s clumsy exposition explains, this was Minnesota 20 years ago, but then we cut to present-day Minnesota, where this shithead older brother, Sam (Vincent D’Onofrio) is about to get married. Given the immediately trashy aesthetic, though, we are pretty quickly clued into the fact that this isn’t a normal wedding, and we see his bride, Freddie (Cameron Diaz), trying her best to retreat from this event. Her escape is thwarted, though, by some of Sam’s colleagues—mostly a nightclub owner named Red (Delroy Lindo) who is seemingly also a mob boss (but like many elements of this movie, this is never explicitly stated.) Essentially, Freddie the runaway bride owes Red money, and to pay off her debt she is forced to marry Sam for some reason. And Sam is such a creep-ass loser, he doesn’t even mind that his bride does not consent to the marriage, nor does Sam’s naive and mentally ill mom, Nora (Tuesday Weld.) On the dreary day of this tacky affair, Freddie is decked out in a muddied and tattered white dress, Sam wears an embarrassingly 1970s blue prom tux, and unexpectedly, Sam’s little brother Jjaks (pronounced “Jax”) (Keanu) shows up. Jjaks is a bit of a mess himself, but after several run-ins with the law he is ready to clean up his act—that is, until he meets Freddie the involuntary bride. Within moments of meeting one another, Jjaks and Freddie hook up in the bathroom, return to the wedding reception, and Freddie begs Jjaks to help her escape. It’s not a situation Jjaks immediately wants to throw himself into, but he is charmed by the white trash sparkle in Freddie’s eyes, and is shocked by the predicament his gross brother has put her in. So, with no money or map or plan, Jjaks steals a car, grabs Freddie, breaks into a pet store and steals a dog for some reason, and the three are off to escape this bleak and dirty corner of Minnesota. With no money, however, the new lovers cannot get far, so Freddie suggests that Jjaks pop back to his hometown, rob his brother real quick, and then they can start their new lives together. This harebrained scheme, of course, only brings about more trouble, as Sam and a detective named Ben Costikyan (Dan Aykroyd), who also wants to enslave Freddie, are stalking these well-intentioned but oh-so-stupid lovers. I guess I should refrain from revealing any more details of this flawed and frenetic film, just in case you somehow find yourself watching Feeling Minnesota, but I really don’t think you should. To say that this film is bad, would be an understatement the size of which cannot be articulated. It is offensive, despite surprisingly resisting some of the corniest, non-woke, inevitably sexist humor that was a staple of the 90s. It’s offensive because a cast this fun (it also stars Courtney Love, Michael Rispoli, and John Carroll Lynch) should not be wasted like this. It’s offensive because the filmmakers clearly wanted this to come off as charming or sweet or compelling, despite all of the horrendously bad vibes. When I covered taboo films recently, I described both features as smelling bad, and I could ascribe this description to Feeling Minnesota as well. The grungy motel rooms, living room carpets, clothing, cars, and people themselves all seemed tainted and tarnished and foul beyond belief—not just on the outside but on the inside as well. The editing is bizarre, the lighting is abysmal, and the script is so half-assed that it is nearly unintelligible. At one point, Keanu says, “I’ve never felt like... whatever that word is... happy.” The writing is so bad that it further affirms my consistent impulse to ask: is Keanu really a bad actor. or do they just make him say the dumbest lines ever in the history of cinema? The fact that there are genuine, well-paid stars in this terrible movie really makes me wonder if the director was just a solid dude whom everyone was friends with, and ultimately accepted their roles solely out of pity. The bonkers premise but ultimately bland result of this film gives the impression that the minds behind Feeling Minnesota thought to themselves: “how hard can it be to write a Coen brothers-esque comedy of scumbag errors?” The answer is: extremely hard, apparently. I was disappointed by Much Ado About Nothing, but I was positively bewildered and increasingly bummed out by my distaste for Feeling Minnesota—a movie where the singular good thing about it is the fact that Keanu Reeves is in it. Well I’ve talked enough shit for one cinema sitting, so I’ll wrap up my rant here. I hope your Thanksgiving is/was okay, and if you need a distraction from your family and frantic holiday shopping, might I suggest popping on some Keanu Reeves movies? Just not these ones. Gobble gobble or whatever! 🦃