Andy (film-critic)
The Chelsea Hotel is a landmark in American culture, alas, due to modern advances in low-income housing; it has become nothing more than a demolished idea coupled with a forgotten past. Hawke, using nearly every technique patented by Richard Linklater, attempts to revitalize the forgotten hotel with non-sequitur stories and impossible characters, yet incredible actors. Using now-cliché camera style (a.k.a. The grain of pure film school) and a powerful score by Wilco, Hawke pulls every grunge independent filmmaker technique known to man, mashes them together like potatoes, and hopes – actually prays – that it will be a big "hurrah" at the cinematic Thanksgiving. Enough references for now, but truthfully, Hawke creates an eyesore of a film with "Chelsea Walls'. Beginning with characters that never develop AT ALL, coupling with a story that is never existent, Hawke horribly displays whatever talent he may have thought he had by employing friends to carry the burden. "Chelsea Walls" was a smear on cinema, not because of the subject (of which I do believe an honest film needs to be made of the events leading to the demise of this building), but because of the surroundings. Hawke borrows, as mentioned before, unsuccessfully from Linklater's work, attempting to bring a "Waking Life"-esquire story to the surface sans the animation. Where Hawke failed was that he brought unexcited characters into a place that really needed an introduction. He needed to guide this audience through his train of thought – not just assume we were all as intellectual as he portrayed himself to be.What upped me about this film was that we had intelligent, powerful actors giving us nothing. From the beginning of the scene until the end, there was nothing solid for us to stand. Kris Kristofferson is a phenomenal actor, but he couldn't bring me to the surface in "Chelsea Walls". He cried, he drank, he womanized, but for what purpose – this critic has absolutely no idea why. The same can be said for Natasha Richardson, whom in my eyes, cannot do wrong, was misguided from the beginning thanks to Mr. Hawke. Rosario Dawson gave the only comprehensible portrayal throughout the film, but she was flanked by horrid direction and choppy "anti-independent" cliché surroundings. She tried, but Hawke wouldn't allow her to prosper. The only one that went the distance, albeit horribly, was Robert Sean Leonard who only was given screen time because of his friendship with director Hawke. He did have a moving story, and if we were left with just the central focus of Leonard's character as he interacted with the others of this building, I think we could have had a keeper of a film, but we didn't. We jumped. We jumped from one actor to another hoping that we could see the chaos surrounding these talented artists. Alas, all we witnessed was Jell-o slipping down a wall -- nothing was sticking.I hate to be pessimistic because I had high hopes for this film. Look at the billing for "Chelsea Walls", who wouldn't get excited. What did happen is that Hawke went to the Linklater school of direction, but abysmally failed out, possibly never quite going to the first class, but instead just copying someone's notes. This was a dark depressing tale that had elements that could work, but just like any first year filmmaker, it all depends on how you put those ideas together. Hawke had some great ideas, but he could not assemble them. He tried to bring music into the scene, and the use of Wilco was genuine, but overbearing – not to mention overused – throughout the film. This seemed to be the common theme or pedestal that Hawke used for "Chelsea Walls" – overuse, until it becomes painful to the viewer. You can obviously see that with the extra lack-tastic features attached to this disc. There are some additional scenes, which only continue the abrasive, unknown of the film. There are some interviews, but done many years after the film. Hawke tries his best, but the funniest is Robert Sean Leonard who forgets everything and attempts to change the subject. My favorite, "What was your favorite scene Mr. Leonard", answered with a long pause and the phrase, "…anything with Rosario". That sums this film up in a nutshell.Overall, I cannot suggest this film. I love the actor Ethan Hawke, and I like this style of film-making, but for "Chelsea Walls" it just didn't seem put together. Linklater would have been upset with the results – just as we were as we watched it. Do not be fooled by the big names associated here, they accomplish nothing and in the end, make you want this hotel to be torn down. This was a sad attempt at film-making, and I can only suggest watching a better combination film with these actors called "Tape". I have mentioned this in a couple of other reviews and truly believe this is the best Hawkes/Leonard/Linklater combo platter you will ever get.Grade: * ½ out of *****
noralee
"Chelsea Walls" is a sensual meditation on the lost and troubled souls who drift in and out and settle down at the historic Chelsea Hotel.Ethan Hawke here stays behind the camera as director and gathers his friends Robert Sean Leonard and Steve Zahn, wife Uma Thurman, veterans Kris Kristofferson, Tuesday Weld and Harris Yulin and luminous relative newcomers Rosario Dawson and Mark Webber for moving monologues and dialogs written by playwright Nicole Burdette, as well as mesmerizing poetry renderings of Rimbaud and Dylan Thomas.Hawke has an unusual eye that loves and respects women that's more romantic and empowering than nude humpings in most films today, even as here all we see are fleeting moments in confusing relationships with their irresponsible men, even though I really had no idea what was going on. The music, mostly by Jeff Tweedy and Wilco (with a striking cameo by Jimmy Scott, both acting and singing Lennon's "Jealous Guy") was used as lovely commentary and yearning revealed.Filmed in digital video, the bleeding over the screen and the blurriness could have been due to lousy projection. (originally written 5/4/2002)
sorabji
I connect with what this thing is supposed to be, but the substance of these artists is poor. Nothing we see from them rises above the level of teenage poetry. The Chelsea Hotel is still a mecca for poets and artists, even if today it's more a mecca for kids of Kerouac. This movie shows the Chelsea as a mecca for 21st century sulking hipsters who learned hippy-dom from Woodstock DVDs. I don't think that's accurate. If you take away the artist premise and the reputation of the Chelsea as a setting, and replace it with a college dorm full of political science majors, you'd have an equally fascinating film.But I find the building, the inside of that building, to be beautiful.
