The Bonfire of the Vanities

Based on the novel by Tom Wolfe, The Bonfire of the Vanities follows Wall Street tycoon Sherman McCoy (Tom Hanks) as he and his mistress (Melanie Griffith’s Maria Ruskin) strike and kill a young black man with their car one fateful evening – with the movie detailing the massive media circus that inevitably ensues. It’s ultimately not difficult to see why The Bonfire of the Vanities was (and still is) regarded as an epic big-budget bomb, as the movie suffers from a seriously plodding pace that’s compounded by an almost impressively wrongheaded sense of tone. There’s absolutely no subtlety here; director Brian De Palma and scripter Michael Cristofer’s distressingly heavy-handed approach can be felt in all aspects of the production, from the larger-than-life performances to the eye-rollingly blunt dialogue to the over-the-top production values. And although De Palma has peppered the proceedings with eye-popping instances of style – eg the unbroken shot that opens the film – The Bonfire of the Vanities‘ pervasively uninvolving atmosphere paves the way for a narrative that grows less and less interesting as time slowly progresses. It is, as such, not surprising to note that a talented cast is increasingly left floundering, while the lack of momentum prevents the conclusion from possessing the dramatic heft that De Palma has surely intended – which, in the end, secures The Bonfire of the Vanities‘ place as a fairly notorious cinematic trainwreck.

*1/2 out of ****