MOVIES BILGE EBIRI - The Brenaissance

This is the kind of role Brendan Fraser has long been due.

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I WAS NOT AT THE FIRST Venice Film Festival press screening of Darren Aronofsky's The Whale, but I did see the movie that played in the same theater immediately afterward and got to wade through a small crowd of shell-shocked critics as I arrived. Before going in, I talked to some colleagues milling about, including a couple of fellow Aronofsky skeptics. They all seemed surprised to have found themselves so devastated by the movie and, in particular, by Brendan Fraser's performance. The buzz around the film grew and grew that night and the following day, so by the time I saw The Whale at its actual premiere in the Sala Grande, the place seemed ready to explode.

And explode it did as soon as the end credits started rolling. The audience's response to The Whale and to Fraser was immediate, immense, and sustained. They wouldn't let him leave. He kept taking bows and bows. He got emotional. Everybody got emotional. It was the kind of total love-in one lives to see at festivals like this.

The moment felt well deserved. It's a great comeback story for a beloved box-office star who rarely got the kinds of parts that might have led to awards buzz in the past. In his heyday, Fraser had a convincingly effortless charm that allowed him to glide through big poppy movies without ever looking as if he were trying too hard or, worse, not taking things seriously. He always seemed like a sweet guy who was just happy to be there but never seemed like a joke. (The films were sometimes jokes, but not him.)