THE MACHINIST
Reviewed by Harvey S. Karten
Paramount Classics
Grade: A-
Directed by: Brad Anderson
Written by: Scott Kosar
Cast: Christian Bale, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Aitana Sanchez-
Gijon, John Sharian, Michael Ironside
Screened at: Angelika, NYC, 10/24/04
If you're like me and you compulsively read the health columns on the web, you
may have noted recent statements that we human beings are hardwired to need
eight hours of sleep. These reports also indicate that thanks to late-night
TV–Leno, Letterman and company–a large number of our fellow Americans do not
get nearly enough sleep. Those who are seriously deprived, who try to live on
four hours a night or fewer, are likely to have psychotic breaks in the form of
hallucinations–something like daydreaming but more graphic. Such is the
situation in extremis of one Trevor (Christian Bale), who works at a metal
foundry of some sort (do they still have those in the U.S.?) and looks not only
tired by gaunt. He is positively skeletal, just possibly the result of a
Christian Bale starvation diet that resulted in the guy's loss of sixty-three
pounds for the role. The definitive American Psycho, Bale is ideally cast for
his role in Brad Anderson's "The Machinist," and in fact his amazing weight
loss is not likely to have been in vain, judging by what I noted at a screening
on opening day in New York's Angelika Theater. The Angelika specializes in
arthouse fare, the indies, and while "The Machinist" has the quirky markings
familiar to patrons of indies, the crowd this night at that theater was made up
not only of the usual suspects but also of young people who are possibly more
at home with the Sony Xbox than with the machinations of arthouse films.
Who can blame them? Christian Bale's performance is mesmerizing. He's
magnetic. He's Oscar caliber in his visceral portrayal of a fellow who is
"losing it" rapidly because he refuses to see a doctor or to take Seconal or
some other miracle of modern pharmacy that could alleviate the condition.
As Trevor Reznick, Bale inhabits the role of a blue-collar worker in a machine
shop with a demanding foreman who could drive even a well-rested prole to
madness. In a freak accident in which Trevor is distracted by a strange, bald
fellow worker who makes a threatening gesture to him, he pushes a button that
leads an associate, Miller (Michael Ironside) to lose his left arm. From that
point he is ostracized by the entire work force, yet continues to plug away at
perhaps the only job he knows. He is comforted by two women, however. One is
Stevie (Jennifer Jason Leigh), a hooker who has a soft spot in her, er, heart
for him, and by Marie (Altana Sanchez-Gijon), whose airport coffee shop he
visits regularly at 1:30 a.m. for a pie and coffee. He is well-liked, as well,
by his landlady, Mrs. Shike (Anna Massey) as he pays his rent on time.
The horror of Trevor's descent into paranoid schizophrenia is punched up by
Roque Banos's eerie original score, but while Scott Kosar's story ia given
Hitchcockian undertone by director Brad Anderson, the real hero is Mr. Bale,
who is in virtually every frame, his bulging eyes and near invisibility at just
119 pounds give him the look of a man who has just been freed from Auschwitz
Rated R. 98 minutes © Harvey Karten
at harveycritic@cs.com
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X-RT-RatingText: A-
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