By Marc S. Sanders
There’s the distinguished doorman who is retired now but returns each day to play chess with a colleague in the hotel lobby. There’s the open-minded girl who is inspired to prevent a young man from getting drafted into the Vietnam War by marrying him. Her hairdresser is married to the hotel manager, who happens to be having an affair with the beautiful switchboard operator. As well, the dining manager is a bigot who will deny his Mexican employees enough time to leave work and exercise their right to vote. A busboy will have no choice but to miss what will likely be Don Drysdale record breaking sixth shut out game in a row. A drunken night club performer can hardly stand up straight while she is completely dismissive of her caring husband. A wealthy man is ready to introduce his trophy wife to an eventful evening in modern politics. Two young campaign workers sneak away to drop acid for the first time. A black man is at a loss following the recent assassination of Dr. King. Though he has hope that at least Bobby Kennedy will uphold his faith for a promising future in America for African Americans to carry equal rights.
So, what does any of this have to do with Robert F Kennedy? Not much I’m afraid. Writer/Director and star Emilio Estevez tells us that all of these stories occur in the Ambassador Hotel on the fateful night when the Senator was assassinated in the hotel kitchen by Sirhan Sirhan. In Bobby, the only character that is not a character is Bobby Kennedy and that is unfortunate. More to the point, all of these short stories and other characters are precisely boring.
Estevez committed himself to grinding out stories that occur in the Ambassador that would lead up to Kennedy’s tragic death. He’s admitted that they are all fictional. Based on his research and photographs, these characters are very loosely inspired by those that were there that night. Before gathering in the ballroom to hear Kennedy’s victory speech after winning the California primary, these people were going through own personal ordeals. If Emilio Estevez was not so personally inspired and researched in Robert Kennedy’s purpose to American history and politics, then perhaps Arthur Hailey (Hotel, Airport) would have pieced together this script of anecdotes and vignettes.
I commend Estevez’ efforts here. The film looks great and even though the Ambassador was being demolished at literally the same time as this film was being shot, the scenic designs are very authentic. The cast is even more impressive as the director reunites with many co-stars that he’s worked with before including Demi Moore, Anthony Hopkins, Christian Slater and his real-life father Martin Sheen, a lifelong loyalist to the Kennedy family. The “importance” of this movie seems to sell itself. Yet, everything is incredibly mundane and of little interest. When your cast and your characters are just items on a grocery list to check off, there’s not much that’s interesting beyond the coupons.
The juicy gossip that surrounds the real-life actors is more captivating. Estevez cast Ashton Kutcher (Demi Moore’s real-life husband at the time) to play the drug dealer who provides acid to the campaign workers (Shia LeBeouf, Brian Geraghty). Moore is also Estevez’ ex-girlfriend. Yet, to watch Kutcher, LeBeouf and Geraghty experience an acid trip with weird visions they see when they open a bedroom closet is unfunny and not captivating. Emilio Estevez is not living up to the Coen Brothers (The Big Lebowski).
A tryst with the boss (William H Macy) and his young, attractive and naïve switchboard operator (Heather Graham) is nauseatingly hokey. The aged wife who works in the hotel salon (Sharon Stone) turns it all into squeamish soap opera tripe.
Bobby has an alarming opening. A false alarm fire call is wrapping up at the Ambassador Hotel and you may feel like you are entering the middle of a panic storm, but things quickly calm down and the film resorts to cookie cutter editing to introduce its all-star cast. None of what they say matters. This is a game of who you can recognize. Joshua Jackson, Nick Cannon, Harry Belafonte, and eventually the guy with the most significant role, Laurence Fishburne, is given his moment, the best scene of the whole film. Fishburne is the kitchen chef who allegorically uses his creations in cuisine to compare the black man’s experience to the brown man’s, or Mexican.
Having finished a trip to Martha’s Vineyard, I wanted to show my wife the under-the-radar and captivating film, Chappaquiddick, which covers Ted Kennedy’s personal story of controversy. (My review of that film is on this site.) To continue on the Kennedy parade, we were motivated to follow up with Bobby. Yet, this picture offers very little to the significance of Senator Robert F Kennedy. There are samples of news reports complete with Cronkite. Plus, the Senator’s own words ring through the epilogue of the picture. Yet, I felt cheated of learning nothing new about the historical figure.
Reader, you may tell me to kick dirt and go find another movie or read a book. Fair! However, this is film is called Bobby, and if I’m not going to learn about Bobby Kennedy from the man himself, then allow me to get to know the man through the eyes of these individuals. Who hates him? Who loves him? Who has a crush on him? Who is inspired by him? Who wants him dead and why?
Estevez’ script does not allow enough material to describe what Kennedy meant to these campaign workers or hotel workers or guests. They are primarily self-absorbed in their own personal battles to think enough about the fact that Bobby Kennedy is expected to make an appearance later this evening. Again, their personal concerns for each other is very dull. I don’t want to be around a drunk and obnoxious Demi Moore. I don’t want to drop acid with some guys who hide behind a façade for caring about the candidate they are supposed to be serving. I feel sorry for the busboy who will miss that big game, but that’s not enough to get me engaged in the entirety of the picture.
Bobby lends very little to the confusing times of the late sixties when an unwinnable war was persisting and championed leaders were being killed for others’ agendas. Any of these stories could have been yanked from this script and slotted into a disaster flick like The Poseidon Adventure or The Towering Inferno.
Bobby only picks up momentum when it arrives at its end that many of us learned about in school or witnessed firsthand in documentaries or directly from that very sad and unfortunate evening, June 4, 1968. This day in history is so much more important than a Helen Hunt character trying to convince her Martin Sheen husband to let her buy a new pair of black shoes. Bobby Kennedy deserves more recognition than what Emilio Estevez offered.
2 UNPAID MOVIE CRITICS!!!! 