Is it just me, or does Titanic seem a long time ago? I refer, of course, to the movie; the actual tragedy was ages ago. But James "King of the World" Cameron's epic was the #1 box office draw just two years ago this week. Since then, Leonardo DiCaprio, the shipboard heartthrob that sent teen girls and studio accountants swooning, has done surprisingly little. A Three Musketeers rip-off (The Man in the Iron Mask) was released in early '98 to capitalize on the frenzy, and Leonardo made a nice cameo in Woody Allen's Celebrity. Otherwise, nothing.

Therefore, the success of DiCaprio's new movie, The Beach, which opens this weekend, is being watched with great interest. Have his devoted followers of two years ago moved on to other things--like college or the Backstreet Boys--or can Leonardo still draw 'em in?

Those who do take the plunge into this watery tale will likely be surprised by what they find. The love story promised in the commercial makes up only a small part of The Beach's storyline. Instead, the film focuses on a paradise community and the inevitable problems that work their way into Utopia.

Richard (DiCaprio) is a young man who seems to have an endless well of money but a much smaller pool of ambition. Drawn by the exotic lure of Thailand, he sets out for easy living and unplanned adventure. And like last year's Brokedown Palace, he meets up with a stranger (mysterious, of course), but this one actually has something worth possessing: a map of a secret island. Hooking up with the French tourist Francoise (Virginie Ledoyen, A Single Girl) and her devoted boyfriend Etienne (Guillaume Canet), Richard searches for this forbidden isle. 

As it turns out, it's not that hard to find. A boat trip here, a long swim there, and a jump into a beautiful lagoon brings the trio to the beach and a friendly group of European tourists who've dropped out of life to create a self-sustaining collective. While the inhabitants are initially wary, the newcomers are soon welcomed. As Richard says in the recurring voiceover, "This was Paradise, except for one thing."

That one thing is Richard's growing attraction to Francoise, and why not? She's beautiful, fun-loving, artistic (she takes photographs of the stars), and sophisticated (she's French). Instead of spending the whole movie figuring out how to get the love birds together, however, the story (adapted by John Hodge from the book by Alex Garland) quickly unites them during a nighttime tryst. And then Etienne, clearly overcome by the utopian breezes, bows out gracefully.

Where's the conflict then, you ask? Good question. The island paradise, which has a long tradition, usually counts on one of two sources for its narrative tension: outsiders who crash the party or bad apples on the inside. Interestingly, though not entirely successfully, The Beach uses both. The outsiders in this case are a quartet of dopeheads that Richard has unwittingly invited along. Inside, a shark attack in the lagoon precipitates a moral quandary that calls into question the community's values.

Director Danny Boyle, who made the groundbreaking Trainspotting, has a knack for ethical questions. In his first film, Shallow Grave, he portrayed three people trying to decide what to do with a lot of cash and a dead body. In The Beach, he wants us to think about how a desire for paradise undermines its own foundation, how our hopes and dreams can never be enough. Unfortunately, this film is too diffuse to be successful. A number of secondary characters pose interesting challenges, but those are rarely explored; and the relationship between Richard and Francoise fizzles not long after it begins. Boyle might be trying to explore the nature of human desire, but his analysis only skims the surface. As my friend Garth put it, The Beach is like The Blue Lagoon meets Lord of the Flies. While that sentiment's a little unkind, it's also not far off.

The movie also falls flat in its visuals. While the Thai island of Phi Phi Le, where shooting took place, is undeniably beautiful, cinematographer Darius Khondji neither fashions a consistent aesthetic nor produces the spectacular compositions the audience expects. This is in stark contrast to John Toll's brilliant work on Thin Red Line, where every image contributed to Terrence Malick's theme of paradise lost/found. Maybe Khondji, who created such amazing dark, dystopic visions in Seven and City of Lost Children, can't make the transition to the utopian beauty of nature.

Or maybe the island is just upstaged by Leonardo. His tanned, often shirtless physique even overshadows his co-star Virginie Ledoyen, who's no slouch in the beauty department, herself. What sometimes gets overlooked in all this, though, is that DiCaprio is a fine actor. His performances in What's Eating Gilbert Grape and This Boy's Life are strong and compelling. Ledoyen, too, is more than just a pretty face. In Benoit Jacquot's A Single Girl, she was perfect as a young hotel worker going through the motions.

Neither actor gets to stretch much here, though. Part of the problem might be the language barrier, as DiCaprio and Ledoyen don't generate much chemistry. But some blame must be laid at Boyle's feet--looking pretty and lost is all he seems to require. And Robert Carlyle (The Full Monty), as the aforementioned stranger, merely reprises his whacked-out role from Trainspotting.

In a beautiful, recently-published poem, Donald Hall wrote, "Unicorns envy their cousin/ horses a smooth forehead./ Horses weep for lack of horns." In just three lines, Hall summed up The Beach and with considerably more style. 

J. Robert Parks 2/6/2000