Paparazzi

PREMIERE.COM REVIEW (posted 9/7/04)

If George W. Bush were a movie star, he'd be something like Paparazzi's Bo Laramie. Granted, any similarities one might draw to Bush are entirely unintentional, but watching Paparazzi with that imaginary subtext in mind sure makes this celebrity Death Wish knockoff seem less like the straight-to-video-caliber mess it really is. Political figure or not, Cole Hauser's Laramie is a movie star for the heartland, a denim-and-plaid–clad antidote to the pansy-ass libertines whose turn-the-other-cheek values rankle the audience for this year's other Icon production.

Nobody messes with Bo Laramie, least of all the paparazzi. When some nosy tabloid photographers start to invade his family's private space, Laramie doesn't hesitate to take a baseball bat upside one of their heads (in fact, he probably gets an extra kick knowing the offending shutterbug is played by one of the lesser Baldwin brothers). His actions aren't entirely unwarranted, but there's little satisfaction in watching an ungrateful overnight movie star's Walking Tall–style crusade to get back at a pack of amoral photographers.

To properly demonize the stalkerazzi, there are scenes of leader of the pack Rex Harper (Tom Sizemore) rooting through Laramie's trash, provoking Laramie to punch him out on-camera, and even leading a swarm of paparazzi to force Laramie into a car wreck, then swooping in to collect exclusive photos of the carnage (an unsettling, if outdated, stab at Princess Diana's tragic death). Meanwhile, the scenes intended to make Laramie seem more sympathetic (fretting at his comatose son's hospital bedside, embracing the friendly neighborhood checkout girl, etc.) merely set him up to be interrupted by the sinister flash of a camera shutter.

Cry me a river. In the age of reality television, Paparazzi feels desperately out-of-touch, the jaded grousings of an industry burnout. These days, it seems every fame-starved wretch this side of Poughkeepsie would gladly trade his anonymous existence to lead a life hounded by intrusive photographers. And if Paparazzi were truly intended as a rebuke against a celebrity-obsessed public—for it is they who keep the tabloids in business—then why is this self-important thriller relying on our curiosity about its A-list cameo appearances to justify its theatrical run?

—Peter Debruge