Thursday, April 17, 2003
Copyright © Las Vegas Mercury

Film: Andrew Davis fills in the quirky Holes of Louis Sachar's teen tale

By Anthony Allison

It's rare that a good story survives the Hollywood homogenization process. Especially in the kidflick department, crass marketing mavens insist that scenarios be altered to incorporate multiple merchandizing opportunities (product placement, action figures, fast food tie-ins).

So praise the lord and pass the popcorn. Because director Andrew Davis (The Fugitive, Collateral Damage) has lovingly shepherded Louis Sachar's adaptation of his 1998 novel Holes through the Tinseltown sausage machine. And the book's charm, teasing plot structure and sardonic Texas humor are miraculously intact.

Precocious, personable 16-year-old Shia LaBeouf plays hapless, palindromically-named hero Stanley Yelnats who, due to a terrible misunderstanding, is sent to Camp Green Lake, a juvenile detention facility in the Texas desert. There, the staff (stern Sigourney Weaver, scenery-chomping, sideburned and Elvis pompadour-bewigged Jon Voight, and Tim Blake Nelson at his redneck best) force the teen inmates to dig large holes in the sun-baked ground, ostensibly as a character building exercise.

But what's the connection between Stanley's "dirty-rotten-pig-stealing-great-great-grandfather" (Damien Luvara), Stanley's new sidekick Zero (wonderfully naturalistic Khleo Thomas), and the curse of an ancient Latvian sorceress (deliciously hammy Eartha Kitt)? And what about the legend of notorious 19th-century outlaw Kissin' Kate Barlow (Patricia Arquette) and mild-mannered onion seller Sam (Dule Hill)?

Meanwhile, will Stanley's inventor father (Henry Winkler) devise the perfect formula for deodorizing smelly sneakers? And what's with all the rattlesnakes, scorpions and lethal yellow-spotted lizards?

"Guess you'll have to fill in the rest of the holes yourself," deadpans Stan (aka "Caveman"). Yet all these narrative jigsaw pieces slot neatly into place, to sketch the story's worthy but never preachy themes: personal responsibility, the dead weight of destiny, plus a poignant race-relations sidebar.

The result, with Stephen St. John's luminous camerawork and Joel McNeely's evocative score, is a surprising delight that's easily the smartest family flick since Shrek. It doesn't quite achieve a Princess Bride level of inspired lunacy, but the effect is similar: Holes never condescends to its young audience--or their parents. It simply celebrates the art of a natural-born storyteller and credits viewers with enough smarts to enjoy his weird, wonderful and satisfyingly warped tale.