The world’s artistic masterpieces are worth saving and with Adolf Hitler stockpiling something around five million pieces of art from the likes of Picasso to Renoir for what would have been his Führermuseum during World War II, seven men went to the frontlines in an attempt to rescue these items from the Nazis. George Clooney‘s The Monuments Men sets out to tell the story of these men, who were eventually responsible for saving nearly one fifth of the items stolen. Sadly, it’s quite alarming, with a cast like this, the end result could be this bland.
Adapted from the book by Robert Edsel, The Monuments Men gave the impression Clooney and his writing partner Grant Heslov (The Ides of March) were going to turn this WWII treasure hunt of sorts into a lighter, less straight-faced feature, but what it ends up being is a rather flat, weightless journey across Europe as we watch a bunch of people drive around while telling us exactly what they’re doing at every turn. Worst of all, we never get an idea of who any of these people are. I didn’t even really know any of their names until the end and even then it might have only been a last name at best.
The film begins with Clooney’s character explaining the importance of saving the art the Nazis have been stealing to President Roosevelt who quickly gives him the greenlight to assemble his team. Joining him on the way are Matt Damon, John Goodman, Bill Murray, Jean Dujardin, Bob Balaban and Hugh Bonneville. While I can’t tell you for sure why each was chosen specifically, I do know they are a team of art historians, architects and I think Damon’s character was either an art preservationist or museum curator. It doesn’t really matter, he heads off to France to try and woo Cate Blanchett into helping him find art that was stolen from the museum where she worked in a senseless side story that proved to be nothing but a distraction.
In fact, there is so little to say about Monuments Men it’s shocking. It plays like a bad soap opera a lot of the time as the music swells during moments where something serious is taking place, particularly a scenario where Murray receives a care package with a recorded message, which Balaban’s character decides to play over the camp PA system. Murray, who’s in the shower when it happens, is so affected by hearing his granddaughter sing “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” that he has to sit in a stupor. The acting is wonderful, but the scene comes as something of a “What the hell is going on?” moment. Why am I meant to care at this point?
Same goes when one of the film’s characters dies and over the course of the rest of the film the artifact he died attempting to save becomes the narrative’s MacGuffin as if it’s the one item that will make the entire trip worth it. Problem is, we hardly knew the deceased in any way for us to feel emotionally invested in the search.
For what it’s worth, I did enjoy most every scene with Murray and Balaban. I can’t say I know much about their characters, because I don’t. I don’t even know Murray’s character’s name, only that he’s an architect and while Balaban’s character’s name is Preston, he hates being called “private”. So there’s that. The two, however, have great chemistry and are generally entertaining to watch play off one another. Otherwise, the film is a loss.
Clooney saunters around, giving big speeches and providing voiceover in long monologues that I guess we were supposed to interpret as “important”, but the entire film spent a lot of time telling us why what was taking place was important rather than showing us and letting us in on what makes what they’re doing worthwhile.
For a cast as great as this one, who are not only charismatic and funny, but truly great actors, to be squandered the way they are is a shame. Goodman, who could make the reading of prescription drug side effects entertaining, is left to overplay most every scene he’s in to give it some measure of oomph. Sadly, it doesn’t work.
