Bad Reviews Don't Kill You---But an Angry Fan Might.

Bad performances happen to everyone. Hey, you throw out enough films in a lifetime, and there's bound to be some stinkers. Of course, sometimes these stinkers anger me to the point of distraction. 

Sometimes, there's a miscalculation on the actor's part. Maybe they were having a bad month, or had a cold! I don't know, it's always possible. We all make mistakes! These, I can forgive. Other times, a bad performance is a symptom of a bigger disease: you suck as an actor. 

Here we are, my personal 12 Worst Performances on film. 

BAD PERFORMANCES LIVE WHERE THE GOOD GO BAD....

Gary Oldman plays a zealot Russian hijacker in Air Force One (1997).

Much respect, Oldman, but come on: WHAT are you doing in this movie and WHAT accent is crawling out of your mouth? Please stop it from ever happening again. Because you know Gary: usually, I'm all 'mother may I!' Remember The Professional? You were so nuts in that one! It was great. Listen, your name is here only as a preventative measure. May you be shamed into never repeating yourself. 

Meryl Streep as the singing mamasita in Mamma Mia!(2008).

Meryl Streep can do anything. Case in point: this film. She probably did an excellent job. After all, she does throw herself headfirst into her work like a lion at a gazelle block party. But this move smacked (you across the face) of Meryl’s occasional attempts to break through her austere title as the First Lady of American Film and prove that the class president can have fun too, you guys! Only she did it best the first time in 1993’s Death Becomes Her  as a vain, drop dead gorgeous actress—and in smaller doses, like playing Bonnie in a musical version of Bonnie and Clyde in the last 10 minutes of the deeply underrated Stuck on You (2006). Man, I love that movie. "The kid stays out of the picture!" Snerk. 

Meryl, it hurts me to do this. Just know that. But there are seriously worse things than being typecast as "the best serious actress in the world." 

Leonardo DiCaprio as the occasionally Irish gang leader of Gangs of New York (2003).

Does anyone remember the original Martin Scorsese pitch for this movie? The one that starred Robert DeNiro, Meryl Streep and was thought up in 1978? The one that was going to cast THE motherflippin’ CLASH? Yeah. THAT movie is awesome. The 2003 version—with Leo’s perpetually AWOL accent, Cameron Diaz pretending to be relevant and Daniel Day Lewis picking the scenery out of his teeth— is what happens when you make Manhattans and substitute apple juice for whiskey, hoping no one will notice.

 

Halle Berry, X-Men/X2/X3

Damn it, Halle Berry. Just…damn it. You ruin everything with your Serious Actress overtures—everything!! Once—just once— I’d like to have a game of Pictionary that doesn’t end with the clue, “…just like that time I won an Oscar.” Not everything is related to that stupid Oscar, you know! Is that why you have to take every single role you do and layer it with lame things like meaning and subtext? Halle, darling: Storm is a superhero. She flies around in tights and a cape and saves people. And you made this role pretentious. Seriously. A super lady who makes it rain. You missed the whole point, Halle! *sigh* You know what? No, seriously, don’t bother coming to Games Night. I’m gonna ask Billy Bob instead.

 

Marlon Brando IS a Chinese healer in The Teahouse of the August Moon (1956)

Offensive? Check! Implausible? Check! Brando? CHECK! All these add up to a miscalculation the size of Marlon’s waist post 1978. 

 

 

...AND THE BAD GET WORSE. 

Keanu Reeves as Jonathan Harper in Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1994)

God bless him, but the role chosen to fill the above slot is arbitrary. Chances are, whatever movie he’s in, Keanu is the wrong actor for it. From interviews with him, he’s actually a pretty sharp guy—not at all the half-lidded plebe that his film presence suggests. So I don’t know why whatever spark or vitality the man has in real life heads to Rio once the camera starts rolling. Luckily, he’s gotten to the point where it’s pathetically endearing, instead of the other way around—and he should ride that wave of good fortune for as long as it will carry him. 

Sofia Coppola in any part of The Godfather III (1990).

Sofia Coppola, in her breakout role as a talking lamp! No, in all seriousness, she is a very talented woman. Just not in this film. Or, I’d imagine, any film. Do you know why? Because the girl belongs behind the camera, rather than in front: she has all the emotive truth of a blank, slightly yellowed canvas. It’s cute when nepotism leads to discovering that talent runs in the family—I’m thinking of Colin Hanks here, progeny of Tom, who just finished up a stint on Mad Men, or you know, the entirety of the Douglas family line, apparently. But when a family member who could have served the film much better as wallpaper is given a central role? Oh, God, hot mess. HOT, HOT MESS. Francis, when your kid is looking for a summer job, you make them get the coffee. You don’t give them a script. Okay? Okay.

 

Hayden Christiansen in an act of desperation in Star Wars II: Attack of the Clones/Star Wars III: Revenge of the Sith

I am offended by this performance on nearly every level—spiritually, (why do terrible things happen to good people, ie. me) morally, (how can such bad acting be allowed to live?!?) and financially (I PAID MONEY FOR THIS). How do you take the baddest ass of them all and turn them into a mewling teenager? Darth Vader choked people—like, FOR FUNSIES. Anakin Skywalker has all the rage of a kid whose dad won’t let him borrow the Chevy.

 

Kevin Costner in anything that’s not Bull Durham (1988).

Let’s take a look at Kevin’s post-Durham career: Waterworld. The Postman. DANCES WITH WOLVES. I’m sensing a pattern here—a bloated, misguided pattern. Somebody took Bull Durham’s lesson way too much to heart. Kevin, okay, listen. You’re not Crash Davis. You’re not an auteur. You’re not secretly the best, wallowing in mediocrity until that brilliant blast of genius that proves you knew the score all along. You are NOT GETTING WITH SUSAN SARANDON. Give up the ghost, Kev, and stop making those crappy, overlong movies.

Anthony Hopkins, in general. But in particular, in The Bounty (1984). 

Sometimes, you know Hopkins, you REALLY PISS ME OFF. First of all, there's this unspoken rule you have that no matter what ethnicity you're playing, you still sound like Anthony Hopkins. Being less or more British does not enhance your believability as an Indian drag racer, Mexican vigilante or a kind of black guy! Second of all, there's this other rule that no matter how lame the project is, you will take it, and SOMEHOW escape even the worst films unscathed, because you are Anthony Hopkins.  And finally, there's this last rule you have that no matter what part you're playing, YOU ARE STILL ANTHONY HOPKINS. To this day I'm still angry about your performance in The Bounty. TO THIS DAY. The impressive size of your hat does nothing to change my mind. Worst. Sunday afternoon. Ever. 

 

Eva Marie Saint playing a human being in North by Northwest (1959)

I was initially incredibly impressed by Eva Marie Saint’s performance in this terrific little spy caper—how did they get a mannequin to do that, I wondered aloud, and how did they make it look so lifelike? This was a mastery of puppeteering, because there were times I thought there was a real human sitting across from Cary Grant! But do you know what’s sad? I came to realize that, even for an animatronic puppet lady, it’s still a lackluster performance. 

In all seriousness, everything about this performance rubbed me the wrong way: from the telegraphing of important plot points, to sexual tension being substituted for a vague sense of trampyness. How can you lack chemistry with Cary Grant? I believed his affection for his hat in The Awful Truth! 

Still. I must admire the difficulty of her dilemma. Having to choose between Cary Grant and James Mason? An evil James Mason, at that? May no other women suffer such an agonizing decision. 

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Got any of your own?