Flak Magazine: Proof of Life, 12-8-00

Proof of Life stars the once-wonderful Meg Ryan as a woman whose kidnaped husband (the sympathetic David Morse) has to be rescued by an insurance employee who specializes in Kidnapping & Ransom cases, played by criminally overrated golden boy Russell Crowe. Versus some of this winter’s great cinema, like Traffic, it’s safe to say no one will remember Proof of Life in six weeks, except for those of us whose corneas and brains have been burned by its awfulness.

The movie clocks in at a preposterous 135 minutes, and each minute with those two onscreen feels like an hour. Thinking of Ryan’s spark and chemistry in Innerspace and D.O.A., or the acting chops she showed in Flesh and Bone, her performance here has the feel of a career-killer. It doesn’t help at all that Crowe, whose only knows what virtuosity is because he was in that terrible movie of the same name, is as bad of a ham here as he’s always been. Ooh, I can smolder, flex my pecs and speak in a raspy voice at the same time! Ever hear of acting, Russ? Of course, maybe if some of the great living directors — here I’m thinking of Philip Kaufman, Joe Dante, Alan Parker, Mike Nichols, Lasse Hallström, Oliver Stone, Gregory Hoblit, Steven Soderbergh, the list goes on — were interested in working with him, he’d learn something about acting. I’m not surprised Michael Mann had to dump all that makeup on him so he could stand working with him in The Insider.

The main trouble with the movie is that it’s inconceivable that Meg — who, sure, will have the occasional nasty fight with her husband, but clearly loves him — would find anything but the most superficial attraction to Crowe. The movie couches their infidelities in such a haze of coincidences that it must realize how improbable their romance is, but even under the circumstances it presents you can’t believe it. You just … there’s no other way to put it. You can’t believe it.

Director Taylor Hackford, who’s been responsible for classics like Everybody’s All-American and can be almost be forgiven for making this tripe, reportedly cut a sex scene between Meg and Crowe because he felt it derailed the story. I can’t speak to that since there are no rails to be found anywhere near this movie, but I think it’s safe to say that if he’d included that scene, this would be the worst movie ever.

— Dennis Quaid (quaidintheshade@moviemovie.net)