THE SAINT: Blu-ray (Paramount, 1997) Paramount Home Video

Oh, how the mighty had fallen when one-time Paramount wunderkind actor/producer/mogul, Robert Evans, teaming with Mace Neufeld and David Brown – each, a titan in their respective playbook - conspired to produce, The Saint (1997), Paramount Picture’s ill-fated attempt to resurrect the sparkle and wit of that elegant mid-sixties’ Brit-born thriller franchise, to make a star of Roger Moore. Regrettably, what the big screen adaptation utterly lacked was a star of Moore’s magnitude, and a screenplay, miserably cobbled together by Jonathan Hensleigh and Wesley Strick – a truly painful mumbo-jumbo about a Cold War Russian oligarch, Ivan Tretiak (played rather effectively by (Rade Šerbedžija) and his pretty boy/mafioso son, Ilya (less so by a cane-toting Valeriy Nikolaev) intent on an overthrow of reigning President Karpov (Evgeny Lazarev). To this already top-heavy conspiracy tale was added a scientific bent, involving the promise of ‘cold fusion’ technology, more or less, to save Russians from the specter of all those long hard winters, but to otherwise insensitively mangle what little magic remained while utterly powerless to eclipse the memory of the ‘sainted’ original TV series. Aside: why nobody ever thought to draw upon the wildly popular novels by Leslie Charteris is beyond me.

If introducing subordinate characters ahead of this movie’s stars seems a bizarre and slightly awkward way to review any picture, it nevertheless illustrates a fundamental about the movie itself; namely, Val Kilmer (cast as the titular master of disguises, Simon Templar) and Elisabeth Shue (as Templar’s hot-blooded paramour/scientist, Dr. Emma Russell) are the least clearly delineated of these stick figures with no soul. Shue’s scientist has to be one of the most clumsily concocted oddballs in filmdom. Wearing a lab coat does not an intellectual make and Shue proves how far off the beaker and Bunsen burner she truly is, cooing like an oversexed school girl, stammering through speeches whose highlights appear to have been Mactac’ed to her forehead, and, otherwise, to teem with infatuated glances for Kilmer’s kooky man of a thousand goony faces. Clever isn’t Kilmer’s bag either. We catch glimpses of him practicing various accents in front of a mirror, thereafter, to re-appear incognito so horribly transparent, any near-sighted six-year could spot him in about a minute. So, the fact two Scotland Yard inspectors, Teal (Alun Armstrong) and Rabineau (Charlotte Cornwall) cannot seem to spot him in their ‘where’s Waldo?’ line-up is, frankly, insulting. Boy, are they dumb!

The Saint ought to have been a home run. Take a time-honored TV franchise, re-booted with flair and an enviable budget, mix in some chase sequences and a plot with more twists and turns than an angry southwestern rattler, and bingo – an instant summer blockbuster. Alas, no – as much of The Saint takes place in a stark and perpetually drab Moscow, with Simon and Emma doing nine-minutes of The Third Man in the bowels of the city’s sewer system; she, stripping him bare from the waste up to provide shared bodily warmth after he, having taken a header in the icy Volga, is in danger of dying from hypothermia. Phil Meheux’s uninspired cinematography gets the ‘cold’ in Cold War down pat, but forgets that this story also requires some more intriguing uses of the camera, herein often relying on an interpolated spate of head-chopping close-ups, offset by handheld movements to convey more activity than the plot is actually capable of delivering.       

The Saint is a fairly unimpressive claptrap. Indeed, the best part of the whole movie is played in flashback under its main titles without Kilmer or Shue, to chart the course of a young orphan (more effectively realized by Adam Smith) who adopts the name Simon Templar after coming under siege from a brutal authoritarian Catholic priest (Pat Laffan). The ill-timed release of attack dogs results in the death of Simon’s childhood sweetheart, Agnes (Verity-Jane Dearsley) who falls off a third story banister. From this rather engrossing opener, having no bearing on what follows, except to superficially mark the adult Simon’s seeming inability to emotionally connect with anyone of the opposite sex, the more prescient plot kicks into high gear. We find Simon donning disguise after disguise as an indie-spy for hire, the most woefully bad incarnation, his long-haired, Thomas More, who spouts bad poetry (actually written by Kilmer). Aside: is it just me, or does this movie spend an interminable amount of time having Kilmer’s cock-of-the-walk look like a dressed-down and thoroughly effete fop in a mop? Kilmer’s disguises aren’t convincing. They’re downright goony and dumb. If anything, they draw attention to him rather than deflecting it away. The movie’s reliance on then ‘cutting edge’ technology has dated rather badly, especially Simon’s repeated use of the Nokia 9000 Communicator cell phone – now, a total relic.

But many forget that the original ending to The Saint was starkly different from what eventually appeared on the screen. In that original edit, Emma ought to have collapsed in Simon’s arms, dying from a venomous poison after being stabbed in the ankle by Ilya’s cane, leaving the last act a darkly-purposed and menacing revenge scenario. Witnessing the murder, Simon stalks Ilya, and, with Dr. Botvin's (Henry Goodman) aid, humiliates him during the ‘show trial’ of the Russian President. Ilya and Simon were then to have struggled in a stairwell pulverized by Russian tanks. A fire erupts from the vast stockpile of heating oil in the basement. As Simon knows Ilya is still mad to possess Emma’s dossier on cold fusion, he tempts him to reach for a disc containing all the intel during this all-consuming blaze. Instead, Simon cuts the tether holding Ilya above the flames, resulting in his death.  Simon was then to return home, remorseful after discovering a love letter from Emma on his bureau, vowing to only use his skills for good from now on. Reportedly, this ending failed to gel with audiences during a ‘sneak peek’. Despite the fact the movie’s trailer already had been assembled in support of this finale, and was playing to prevue audiences across the country, director, Philip Noyce was then ordered to do ‘something else’ for his last act.  However, this new ending, cobbled together in the eleventh hour, is a mess of clichés, providing a crazy sort of fractured reunion for the lovers. Now, Simon finds his way to Emma’s public address, deliberately to tempt Teal and Rabineau one last time, before making an even slicker quick change and escape from the university in his red sports car, listening to Sir Roger Moore, playing a radio announcer reporting on the news of the day, including a hefty donation to UNICEF (the humanitarian organization on which Moore served as goodwill ambassador for many years).

But one has to sincerely wonder what was going through the head of this movie’s star, Val Kilmer, who turned down a reprise of his blonde Bruce Wayne from Batman Forever (1995) to do The Saint. Indeed, for better or worse – truth or dare – Kilmer’s public persona as a bad ass was well ensconced at the time The Saint went into production. Rumors swirled he was often late to the set, belligerent when he arrived, and, even occasionally violent. One story has him putting out a lit cigarette in a crew member’s face. Ouch! Much of this is, however, pure conjecture to potboiler pulp spun by the tabloids as co-star, Shue and producer, Mace Neufeld have gone to bat for Kilmer since. Indeed, the star actually worked tirelessly and without complaint 7 days a week, re-shooting key sequences to make the deadline for the final edit. But Kilmer is no Roger Moore, and the movie very much suffers from his superficial machismo, repeatedly turned asunder by his awkward assimilation into various disguises. Interesting to re-consider what the role might have been had Noyce had his way in casting Mel Gibson in the lead. Others under consideration then were Sir Kenneth Branagh, George Clooney, Kevin Costner, Johnny Depp, Daniel Day-Lewis, and – wait for it - Arnold Schwarzenegger.

If anything, Kilmer is too subdued as Simon Templar. He has no presence other than what he momentarily lends to the various straw dogs he impersonates throughout the movie. If these are anemic to the point of fading into the backdrop, they positively stand in relief of Kilmer’s own non-existence as the invisible stud with momentary flashes of petty larceny brewing in his eyes. And Kilmer, to his credit, knew he had failed the picture. He was, in fact, very disappointed with the final results, voicing his dissention to Roger Moore some months later and even go so far as to suggest, had producers remained faithful to the original Saint stories, they would have had a far better movie than the one that ultimately emerged. To his credit, Moore did not dispute this claim. The chief problem with The Saint – the movie – is that it tries too hard to be something the Saint franchise never was – an actioner. It also attempts to take what was essentially a British pop-u-tainment and turn it into an American show. Badly done! Graeme Revell’s sophisticated score interpolates the original 30’s RKO ‘Saint’ anthem, later resurrected for the 60’s TV program. Alas, this too is yet another painful reminder of just how far the movie has veered from its origins.

Film adaptations to extol the virtues of Leslie Charteris’ vigilante, Simon Templar date all the way back to RKO’s short-lived B-movie serial (1938-41) which was launched with actor, Louis Hayward as The Saint, quickly replaced by George Sanders for the next five outings. But after that cycle had run its course, the series lay dormant for decades, only to resurface as a sleeper hit for Roger Moore. The French tried their hand at a revival movie franchise in the mid-fifties, but without success. Thus, The Saint was next reincarnated as Return of the Saint, a one-season flop, starring Ian Ogilvy (1978-79). In the mid-1980’s, rumor mills reported Roger Moore, by now, world-famous as Britain’s super-spy, James Bond, was endeavoring to reboot The Saint as a star vehicle for Pierce Brosnan (then, riding the crest of popularity as that very Templar-esque con/detective, Remington Steele on TV). Alas, NBC’s cancellation of Remington Steele at the height of its popularity and its ironclad control over Brosnan’s future quickly quashed this proposal, if, in fact, one had ever seriously been undertaken. In 1987, an Aussie-backed, U.S. based pilot -The Saint in Manhattan, starring Andrew Clarke, became a one-note/footnote on CBS’s Summer Playhouse, followed by 6 feature-length made-for-television movies, produced in Australia and starring Simon Dutton.

Given the success of Leslie Charteris’ novels, it remains something of an odd disconnect much of The Saint’s legacy hails from situations with virtually no basis or bearing on the books; Paramount’s big-screen relaunch being no exception. This Saint ought to have worked, especially if the original team assembled for it – Robert Evans, Steven Zaillian to write, Sydney Pollack to direct, and Ralph Fiennes to star, had remained intact. Fiennes, then enjoying his own flourish with Schindler’s List (1993) and Quiz Show (1994) was offered a cool million to partake, but passed, citing that the regurgitated combination of car chases, bank robbery and espionage was nothing he had not seen before. At this juncture, Evans too lost interest and departed from the project. Contractually, he was still owed a credit, and thus his name remains above the title. But actually, former Fox exec, David Brown was responsible for what followed. The original tale was to have been a globe-trotting adventure covering Washington, D.C., Upstate New York, St. Petersburg, and Moscow, with action set pieces to include skydiving while strapped into a wheelchair and a daring plane landing in the middle of Red Square. Why none of this actually materialized in the finished film remains open for discussion. But Hugh Grant, who was offered the role of Simon Templar, suggests the original story and Noyce’s approach to the character did not gel with The Saint’s legacy. Hence, major rewrites were in store. After a slew of Hollywood heavy-hitters turned down the role, Val Kilmer signed on, checking out of Joel Schumacher’s Batman and Robin (1997) with the understanding the role of Templar would be reworked to suit his acting style.

The Saint opens with a prologue at Saint Ignatius Orphanage where a rebellious pupil, John Rossi adopts the name Simon Templar, leading his fellow pubescent inmates in a rather daring midnight escape plan. Alas, the boys are found out by the ruthless head priest and Simon’s childhood sweetheart is killed when she accidentally falls from a third-story balcony. Flash forward: Simon, now an adult, has transformed himself into a professional thief. His latest endeavor is to stage a daring burglary of a valuable microchip from a Russian oil company owned by ex-Communist party boss and billionaire, Ivan Tretiak. Tretiak is rallying support against the current Russian president. But Simon is intercepted by Tretiak's son, Ilya. Nevertheless, he escapes. Now, Tretiak, owing to Simon’s reputation, hires him to steal a revolutionary ‘clean and inexpensive’ cold-fusion energy formula discovered by U.S. electrochemist, Emma Russell. Posing as a Boer traveler, Simon beds Emma and skulks off with the formula. Tragically, it is incomplete. Now, Tretiak orders Ilya and his hitmen to put an end to Simon. Meanwhile, a heart-sore Emma reports the theft to Scotland Yard inspectors, Teal and Rabineau who inform her of Simon’s dangerous past. Emma tracks Simon on her own and confronts him. The Russian police, loyal to Tretiak, arrest the pair who, nevertheless, manage a gallant getaway before arriving at Tretiak’s mansion.

Momentarily given refuge by a prostitute in a hidden room, Simon and Emma are introduced to black marketeer, Frankie (Irina Apeksimova) who sells them ‘directions’ through the underground sewer system to the U.S. embassy. Only a few yards from the embassy, the pair are, yet again, intercepted by Ilya and his men. Simon creates a diversion, blowing up Ilya’s SUV and injuring him severely, while Emma makes her way to the Embassy, claiming political asylum. Learning of Tretiak's coup d'état, Simon breaks into Russian President Karpov’s private residence and offers a solution. Meanwhile, Emma finishes the cold fusion equation which Simon then leaks to Tretiak’s physicist, Dr. Lev Botvin who builds an apparatus that proves the formula works. As Tretiak loyalists detain, then forcibly drag the President and Simon to the square for public pillory, the cold fusion device built by Botvin is ignited, proving Karpov the visionary and Tretiak the fraud. Tretiak, Ilya and their goons are arrested. Sometime later, Simon and Emma spend a weekend at a cozy retreat in England where he returns the formula previously stolen from her. At Oxford, Emma presents cold fusion to the world while Simon tempts Teal and Rabineau with yet another disguise before making one final breakout from capture.

The Saint is an impractical and insipid espionage/thriller. The producers’ decisions to continually revamp and evolve the story while shooting, resulted in two rounds of re-takes, adding $2 million to its production costs. Alas, the finished film did not live up to expectations, either critically, or at the box office. Retrospectively, it’s easy to see why. The story is woefully undernourished. There is virtually zero romantic chemistry between Kilmer and Shue, the former seemingly incapable of showing any emotion beyond glib satisfaction with himself, the latter perpetually stuck in a giddy sort of school girl blush and coo that goes nowhere fast, and worse, is completely out of step with the character of a pseudo-intellectual on the cusp of becoming one of the leading scientific minds in the world. A sexy scientist is one thing. But Shue plays Emma as though she were an undergraduate, still stuck in her old Adventures in Babysitting mold. The action sequences come together only in fitful sparks to suggest better stuff is coming down the pike. It’s not. And Phil Meheux’s choppy hand-held cinematography is a real slog to get through, perpetually bathed in depleted hues of blue/grey for the Russian sequences, and a sort of copper/beige sunset for the bookends taking place in England. Nothing to see here, folks.

The same can be said of The Saint’s lackluster arrival on Blu-ray. Paramount really needs to decide what it wants to do with its studio’s legacy – either, to preserve it for all-time in a manner befitting the quality invested in the original product or merely to slip back into its self-imposed moratorium that denied us access to it in the first place for nearly two decades. These half-ass hi-def efforts, dumping tired, old transfers to disc, simply to count them among the ‘win’ column of releases, doesn’t fly anymore. Arguably, it never should have been tolerated. The Saint has obviously been culled from older digital files likely used to master the DVD. Age-related artifacts are present. Though not altogether distracting, they ought to have been eradicated. Color saturation is anemic at best. The image throughout has a tired, slightly faded quality. Blacks crush. Flesh tones are never accurate, veering from piggy pink to ruddy orange. Worst of all, edge enhancement persists. It’s everywhere, and at times, utterly distracting. There’s also minor gate weave. Finally, film grain has been homogenized via DNR and it teeters dangerously close to becoming that waxy sort of hot mess we are all familiar seeing – smoothed fine detail to a non-existent point of no return. The 5.1 DTS audio is adequate, though unremarkable. A theatrical trailer with scenes that do not appear in the final movie is the only extra here. Bottom line: pass, and be very glad that you did!

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

2

VIDEO/AUDIO

2.5

EXTRAS

0