Back-to-back in the same evening, we experienced the delights of Italy. The first was a documentary about Gore Vidal (the American exile in Ravello), and the second was Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon's follow-up to "The Trip," immersed in the Italian countryside where, improbably, Brydon does something I'd never seen before: an impression of Gore Vidal.
THE TRIP TO ITALY (B) - If you like Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon and their shtick, then this sequel to "The Trip" will go down easy. If not, you might squirm a bit. Here, the cheeky Brits gambol about the Italian countryside, endlessly tossing out clever impressions, while dining at five-star restaurants.
Coogan is eminently watchable, and Brydon is a capable foil. They settle in quickly, puttering around God's green acres in a Mini Cooper (probably for "The Italian Job" joke) while listening (and singing along) to vintage Alanis Morissette.
The scenery is breathtaking and the food is to die for, and those distractions certainly help take your mind off the fact that we've been here before or that director Michael Winterbottom isn't as jazzed about the narrative the second time around. As in the first film, Winterbottom broadly sketches a back story for each man. This time Brydon is the unfaithful one (with little apparent consequence), while Coogan conducts a dull and inscrutable long-distance squabble with his pissy 16-year-old son, an utterly confounding exercise. Meantime, the men brood about their own mortality, sniffing along the trail of the great poets Byron and Shelley and visiting tourist sites like the ruins of Pompeii (probably for the "little guy in a box" joke).
But we're here for the banter. And it's often a hoot. (Middle-aged men will be boys, after all.) The Michael Caine impression makes a cameo. Just about all the James Bonds get a quick gloss. Brydon's fall-back impression here is Al Pacino, and frankly, it's not a very good one, no matter how often he tries. His improbable Gore Vidal impression is much stronger. Winterbottom sits back and lets the improvisational comedy find a target, and then he moves on.
This truly is like a delectable meal -- you savor it while it lasts, and eventually it just passes through you.
GORE VIDAL: UNITED STATES OF AMNESIA (B) - And if you can stand Gore Vidal for 90 minutes, this is a workmanlike overview of his career and political philosophy.
The first half drags too often and is focused too much on Vidal's personal life. The second half finally delves into his role as the conscience of America.
This world-class insufferable elitist intellectual duels with William Buckley in classic 1960s TV clips. (Where Buckley infamously smeared Vidal as a "queer" and threatened to punch him in the nose.) He anoints Christopher Hitchens (seen here hairless not long before his death) as his ideological heir before dispatching Hitchens unceremoniously over the latter's support for the Iraq War. (We see them at their final public gathering together, an awkward parting.)
Vidal is refreshingly blunt in his measured assessment of American history (and its exceptionalism and imperialism). He expertly busts the myth of Camelot, referring to his old pal Jack Kennedy as the worst president we've ever had, a leader who accomplished little and who sent the first batch of ground troops to Vietnam.
This all zips along in tick-tock fashion. Like in "Life Itself," we're exposed to too much footage of an old man in a wheelchair staring death in the face. (The opening and closing scenes take place at a cemetery.) But the old footage is oddly comforting, and Vidal makes compelling company throughout.
BONUS TRACK
Speaking of Alanis Morissette:
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