The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015. Remaining movies: 90 Days to go: 60
Movie #350: The Bodyguard
Whitney Houston, may she rest in peace, never really understood “I Will Always Love You.” Even her character in The Bodyguard, Rachel Marron, complains about the lyrics being depressing without ever really considering the message. The fact of the matter is, “I Will Always Love You” is a song about loss, about sacrifice, about separation. It’s not supposed to be uplifting. It’s supposed to be sad. But the way Houston sings it, it’s clear she didn’t get that.
Whitney Houston’s version of “I Will Always Love You” is bombastic and ostentatious. It’s all about the power of Houston’s voice and nothing else matters. There is no consideration for the tone or intention of the lyrics. She’s just full speed ahead, pedal to the metal, and to hell with singing a song with any meaning. I hate it so much. All you have to do is listen to the way Dolly Parton sings it to know how it’s meant to be sung.
Parton, of course, is all class, so she only ever expressed eternal gratitude for Houston doing a version that brought worldwide acclaim to the song. And it truly is an incredibly display of Houston’s vocal skill. But she sings it wrong.
The rest of the songs in The Bodyguard are pretty stellar, I must say, and I owned the soundtrack just like everyone else on the planet. I just wish something like “I Have Nothing,” (which is perfection) or “Run To You” had gotten more appreciation. They deserved it.
Aside from the music, though, The Bodyguard falls incredibly flat, both in story and performance. Houston and Kevin Costner (as the titular bodyguard, Frank Farmer) have zero chemistry, but unlike a lot of other movies where that’s the case, I don’t really think it’s a problem of bad casting. On the contrary, I think it’s a problem of too good casting. All I can go on are rumors, of course, but from everything I’ve heard, Costner is absolutely the straight-laced orange juice-drinking conservative Frank Farmer is, and Houston was every bit the diva Rachel Marron is, and never the twain shall meet. There is nothing about the two of them, either in real life or in the universe of this film, that is at all compatible. There is no spark, there is no allure. If Rachel got it in her head to toy with Frank by flirting with him, she did it as a joke, or as a power move. Not because she was really interested in him. And he would never be swayed by someone as flighty and ridiculous as she is. It just doesn’t work.
Beyond that, the death threat story is kind of muddled by the anonymous obsessive they insert as a red herring, and the complete incomprehensibility of this stupid harebrained assassin who can’t seem to kill Rachel despite the millions of opportunities she’s just kind of out in the open, blowing off Frank. (Also, Whitney Houston was never a great actress, so the whole fantasy of Houston-as-Marron winning an Oscar is funny and dumb.) And as far as being shot at, almost having your son exploded, and having your sister murdered, Rachel is surprisingly unfazed. The show must go on, I guess. And full volume, at that.
Thanks, but I’ll pass.
Viable Option 