<< Back 9/25/02 Flicks By Hunter Pope Changing Lanes Director: Roger Michell (“Persuasion”, “Notting Hill”) Cast: Ben Affleck, Samuel L. Jackson, Toni Collette and Amanda Peet Rating: R— language, may inspire gladiator style road rage Road rage is like discovering you have another personality. It reminds me of the movies about the crazed deformed twin that’s locked up in the attic. Whenever someone cuts me off, or doesn’t use a turn signal, or throws a smoldering butt onto my hood, my twin appears. “You**&^%$#%$^^$^$#^%$^$^ $^%$ ^%hole” I roar as spittle jettisons, blocking my view of the interloper. The middle digit will come out of hibernation, ensuring that I have now put my life in danger; especially if that other person has a twin like mine. Two lives can change in a nanosecond, thanks to the inner brat. I cringe when I recall those moments of unlocking the attic and letting a maniac loose behind the wheel. Still, my leash has gotten shorter as time has made me (boring) mature; although I still relish in hearing other people’s recounts of highway mêlées. The fictional movie, “Changing Lanes,” is perhaps the best tale of the road rage genre (if there’s such a thing). But, unlike most Hollywood revenge films, “Changing Lanes” goes for the cerebral instead of the milked to death testosterone shot. It tells all us ragers to put the finger away. It’s too simple. There are much more diabolical ways to crumble a person, and “Changing Lanes” gives a three-dollar course (the cost at your friendly video store) on how. That’s not to say that this movie is simply about one man destroying another. The movie has fathoms of symbolism, and one look into the abyss may not clue you in on all the messages the movie distributes. There’s the morality tale of corporate recklessness, the healing properties of support groups like AA, and how important a family is. It asks questions we try to duck, like does God really punish us or do we punish ourselves? And, are we really nicer to each other in modern civilization or do we turn on each other like claustrophobic rats when the chips are down? The two actors who play the protagonists are perfect. They handle their downward progression like toddlers with rabies, and they exemplify what would happen if this unraveling happened in real life. Ben Affleck (who seems at home being a shallow white collar guy — see “Boiler Room” and “Bounce”) has found a medium in Gavin Banek’s sleaze, and Samuel L. Jackson has done perhaps his best work. His Doyle Gipson is a thespian study in reserved fury. Affleck’s Gavin and Jackson’s Doyle are totems for how we would react on the worst day of our lives. It’s not pretty, but it’s truthful. Desperation balls up morals like a badly written paper and throws it into the trash. Gavin is a successful white lawyer on Wall Street. He’s married to Cynthia Banek (Amanda Peet), daughter of Delano, who just happens to be owner of the law firm where Gavin snake oils. Gavin used to be idealistic, a young law prodigy who believed he would be an even weight for poor blind Lady Justice. However, his path has strayed like a three-legged trail hound. Delano and his partner convinced Gavin to get a dying philanthropist (who Gavin was close to in college) to sign over all his charities to the law firm. It’s slimy because the old man was incoherent at the signing, and he trusted Gavin like a prodigal son. “We haven’t done anything wrong,” Gavin half-asks his father-in-law. Gavin muddily washes off the guilt and heads to the courthouse to have the final papers signed, which will give his firm complete control of the dead millionaire’s estate. Gavin’s nemesis, or moral changeling, is Doyle, a downtrodden fellow who just wants to fuse his life back together. His past is in more pieces than a jigsaw puzzle in a blender. Doyle is a recovering alcoholic, a wage slave, and he has a family (an ex-wife and two young boys) that’s getting ready to leave him for Oregon. However, Doyle has just been approved for a house loan in Queens, which he plans to buy for the mother and kids. He nobly accepts that he may not be welcome at the domicile. He uses the loan and his abstinence from alcohol as leverage at the custody court hearing. All he has to do is be there by 10 a.m. Then Gavin comes along. Late for his own meeting at the courthouse, Gavin races along the New York highway in his silver Acura sedan. Babbling on the phone, he doesn’t see Doyle putting by in his ancient car. The two collide and Doyle ends up with a smashed hood and a flat tire. “Are you alright?” they both ask, using the usual friendly accident jargon before the demand for insurance. Doyle wants to go by the book. Gavin is late and offers a blank check. Doyle doesn’t like the idea, but Gavin doesn’t listen. Instead, he gets back in his car and heads for the courthouse. “But, you can’t leave me out here,” Doyle pleads. “Could you please give me a lift?” Gavin’s reply? “Better luck next time!” The “next time” is like watching a craps table cursed by a six-fingered gypsy. Doyle is 20 minutes late for the custody hearing, and the children are awarded to the mother. “If this was my marriage,” the judge admonishes him, “I would have been here on time.” Mr. Slimy is also in for a treat. When he arrives in the courtroom, Gavin discovers that he’s missing the signed documents for the dead philanthropist. Guess who has them? A very angry Doyle Gipson. At this point, “Changing Lanes” could have sunk to retributions through knives, bats, AK-47s and one-liners derived by a caffeine-enraged screenwriter. However, the movie remains respectful, thanks to some deft writing by Chap Taylor, who has previously worked as a production assistant for Woody Allen, and by Michael Tolkin, who wrote the novel and screenplay The Player and wrote and directed two noteworthy films, “The Rapture” and “The New Age.” The writers contrive a clever cat and mouse that has pit stops at moral stations. Doyle taunts Gavin by sending him a faxed copy of the document with “Better Luck Next Time” etched across the front. Doyle’s credit is stripped away by Gavin’s henchman, lug nuts are loosened, and two men’s status and career are threatened by a petty game of one-up-man-ship. However, the worst day of their lives (Job, sorry buddy, but we have two new contenders) shows them that their lives are just an irritating smokescreen. The movie never gets preachy in these moments; it just objectively shows the lies the two have been living: “Changing Lanes” offers these truths; ones that were written for the Hollywood screen but are very concrete in our real lives. Road rage is the channel, a blind moment of fury that makes two men see for the first time. (Hunter Pope writes about music, movies and books. He can be reached at w.h.pope@worldnet.att.net)