Posted: 02/02/2000

Eye of the Beholder

(2000)

by D. Patrick Seitz

Our newest reviewer takes a look at Ashely Judd’s latest flick, and cringes.

I’ve wasted plenty of time in my life. Dozing on Sunday afternoons. Playing oft-beaten video games. Loitering at coffeehouses. Over the course of my life, I’ve wasted an inestimable amount of time. For some reason, though, the 109 minutes I wasted watching Eye of the Beholder seem like such a tragic loss. I can’t get over the feeling that it could have been prevented. I haven’t been this disappointed with Ashley Judd since I found out she dated Michael Bolton.

The basic plot of the film is as follows: The Eye (Ewan McGregor) is a British intelligence agent/techno-geek who is sent out to solve a politically-sensitive blackmail case. The suspect, Joanna Eris (Ashley Judd), is a man-hating serial killer who snuffs out guys in retribution for her father having abandoned her during her childhood. The Eye watches Eris kill a passel of men, yet does nothing.

Why? Because she’s Ashley Judd, one of the most aesthetically pleasing women on the face of the earth and easily the best thing to come out of Kentucky since Maker’s Mark. Also, because Eris strangely reminds The Eye of his daughter, who is no longer in his life and exists for him only as a highly-annoying figment of his imagination.

After a while, The Eye goes from a passive spectator to an unseen accomplice, helping Eris evade capture. From this point on, the film has no protagonist whatsoever. We’ve got two villains — sinners of commission and omission, respectively — who don’t really pique our interest or our sympathy.

Also, the film falls into a rut rather early. Joanna arrives in city. The Eye arrives shortly thereafter. Joanna kills unwitting man. The Eye watches. Joanna heads for a new town. The Eye follows suit. Repeat until the audience is comatose.

This isn’t to say that Eye of the Beholder didn’t have its moments. The scene transitions involving snow-filled paperweights were effective (albeit repetitive), and Judd’s bathtub scene certainly appealed to the baser angels of my nature. Jason Priestley did a refreshingly non-“90210” job of portraying violent trailer-trash—and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t derive a sick satisfaction out of watching Ewan McGregor clean his clock.

Don’t worry about my giving away the ending. I can’t—that would necessitate the film actually having an ending. Oh, sure, there’s a point at which the action ceases and the credits are shown, but I’d hesitate to call it an ending.

D. Patrick Seitz recently put down roots in Los Angeles, where he’s trying his hand at acting, writing, and singing.

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