Space Cowboys Reviewed

ROVIN' AND RAVIN' WITH MIKE

The Ripe Stuff

Space Cowboys

About once a year, Clint Eastwood shows up again to remind us just what a sturdy, reliable actor, director, and producer he is. This time out, with Space Cowboys, he comes through again, reliably, complete with computer graphics (take that, you young whippersnappers!) and with some of the most special of special effects in a long time: a downright out-of-this-world celebration of what a half-dozen grand old actors can do. Even with a miserable script… although I did steal the title of this review from that maligned source.

Last week, I exploited The Klumps and What Lies Beneath to churn out a lesson in why movie-critics are such jerks, dumping on movies that make a gazillion dollars. Perhaps I can call class to order again this week, with a reflection on this lovable, reliable film—a film for which reliability and lovability are simultaneously strengths and weaknesses.

Seeing as many films as I do, maybe I expect too much from them. I want something more than just lovable, reliable. But, especially after last week’s fiascoes, a film with the high-octane performances of Space Cowboys may be just what the movie-critic needs.

The story begins some forty years ago, in the fifties, at the dawn of the "Space Age." We meet "Team Dedalus," four characters who, like somewhat older boys from October Sky, are charmed with the idea of flying as the ultimate revolt of us mere gravity-bound mortals. But, they lose out to the astro-monkey, and flashing forward to the present, we see how each of them has continued to try to spread his wings.

The technical experiments of Corvin (Eastwood) are limited to his garage. Hawkins (Tommy Lee Jones—a couple of decades younger than the other members of the team) makes himself available as a private pilot for hire, while O’Neill (Donald Sutherland) designs roller coasters and makes designs on every woman he sees. Sullivan (James Garner) has taken the highest road of all as a Baptist minister.

The film suffers a sort of split personality. In the first half, we meet (and are charmed by) the Dedalus boys. It’s too bad that four such intriguing characters are stuck in such a silly story. Corvin blackmails his old nemesis Gerson (James Cromwell, who has come a long way from singing a love song to a pig in Babe) to get himself and his cronies the trip into space they were denied, under the watchful eye of Davis (William Devane). But, there are explanations (perhaps a few too many explanations) to justify the goings-on, and there is enough warmth, even coziness, for the audience to get caught up in the camaraderie of the very good old boys on screen.

Eastwood is a real gentleman, deferring to Jones, who is given the most memorable lines and scenes, but among all these grand old guys, there is a sense of joy in master craftsmen practicing their craft.

The truth is, there is not a whole lot of artistry here. During the first half of the film, given the assignment, everyone handles his chores quite well (except, again, perhaps the writers). Things fall to earth just as the action moves into space, as outdated Cold War paranoia and various well-predicted plot twists and character revelations come along to hit us over the head.

Perhaps the biggest surprise is that the film works as well as it does, but with Eastwood as actor, director, and producer (a bit of multi-tasking that can more than match Eddie Murphy’s many roles in The Klumps), that should be no surprise. Eastwood is the kind of director who has made Hollywood Hollywood. He is no Bergman, no Hitchcock, no von Steinberg, a director whose films are stamped by an indelible watermark. Instead, he is one of those many hard-working talents who have gotten the job done (well, maybe not so well with Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil).

The truth is, Eastwood’s saga of old-timers blasting off into space seems a little geriatric. Reliable as a well-maintained old watch and lovable as the "boys" are in the Jay Leno bit (which has become a sort of inevitable shorthand in entirely too many films), the film is not good enough to be great and not bad enough to be interesting. Bashing this film would be like hitting a grandparent with a sledgehammer, but I can offer it at best faint praise. At least, this is a refreshing characterization of old people as fully rounded characters, not like the one-dimensional sex-crazed old lady in The Klumps.

This is such a warm and cozy film that you might do well to wait until it comes out on video, so you can watch it from the comfort of your favorite chair, with a cat or two and a favorite beverage to enhance the experience. Keep your feet dry, your heart full of noble thoughts, and a dream on hold for any opportunities that may come along.