In Cake, it takes about fifteen minutes for director Daniel Barnz to establish the ground rules for this familiar portrait of grief and addiction, followed up by another 90 minutes or so of dramatic clumsiness and eye-rolling clichés. Whether it is drugs, sex, or booze, each brings a routine numbing quality to the table for Claire Bennett (Aniston), a seemingly darkly comedic and scathing woman who we first meet in a support group for chronic physical pain.
Such is the current culture in the filmmaking world that the very notion of suggesting ‘remake’ is considered sacrilege, but the problem isn’t in the concept, it’s in the choices. The worst thing you can do in the writing room, and on the set, is mishandle a great story. It is these motion pictures, not the Verhoven classics or yesteryear horror flicks, that require a second attempt.
Watching Drift is akin to feeling like Milhouse van Houten. He howled, in that long-ago Simpsons episode on the school bus, “When are we getting to the fireworks factory?”Drift, a period piece about the surging popularity of surfing in Western Australia, spends far too much time withholding surfing footage, presuming that what audiences would rather watch is discussions about surfing instead. Once the characters stop talking about the business of surfing, or the equipment related to surfing, or the feeling that one gets while riding a particularly radical wave, and they get on their boards and start riding said waves, Drift comes alive.