BOBBY--WE ARE ALL MORTAL

Flabbergasted. That's the primary feeling I had watching the new drama BOBBY. Not because the film is anything great--it isn't--but rather because it's writer/director is none other than Emilio Estevez. Who would have ever thought the film maker behind "Men At Work" could one day be the driving force of a cinematic project so ambitious, so epic, so potentially heartfelt in scope?

Indeed, BOBBY is a sweeping, Altman-esque account of the tragic events of June 5th, 1968, when Senator Robert F. Kennedy stood on the threshold of securing the Democratic nomination for President of the United States. Moments after winning the California primary, as he celebrated his victory at the legendary Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles, the idealistic former Attorney General was gunned down by Sirhan Sirhan in the kitchen of the now demolished hotel. Kennedy's assassination cruelly signified that the dream which was Camelot was obliterated for the second time, the final nail in the coffin occurring a few years later at Chappaquiddick. Following on the heels of Martin Luther King Jr's assassination two months earlier, Kennedy's passing effectively sounded the death knell on hopes for reversing the political and social turmoil of America brought on by the catastrophic Vietnam War, paving the way for what Ford called "our long national nightmare."

As a character states, "Now that Dr. King is gone, there's no one left but Bobby." Unfortunately, the most compelling moments in BOBBY come courtesy not from anything in Estevez' fact based story, but from archival footage of Kennedy on the campaign trail, and more importantly from the late Senator's riveting speeches. The film, left to Estevez' limited screenwriting talents, can't possibly compete with anything so culturally profound. To compensate for the fact he's no Oliver Stone, Estevez employs a multi-character arc focusing on various Ambassador Hotel employees, guests, and Kennedy staff members over a twenty four hour period, with middling results.

BOBBY falters because these individual stories are simply not as interesting as the main historic impetus of the film. Sure, Estevez populates his film with an impressive ensemble of actors (All the more impressive given BOBBY's tiny budget), but there's precious little in the way of personality in the quaint vignettes. Compared to the dramatic countdown to certain death hovering over the proceedings, they often come across as a made for television movie rather than a vital big screen enterprise. Perhaps a more accomplished director could have wrung something more potent from this narrative tapestry, or even fashioned an effective documentary from the material. Alas, while a noble effort, Estevez' narrative instincts more often than not prove elementary and flat.

If it was Estevez' desire to convey a panoramic social view of life as it might have existed in 1968, I don't think limiting the events chiefly to the Ambassador Hotel is a logical story telling move. Regardless, the film's most compelling stories revolve around its employees. Jose (Freddy Rodriguez) is a busboy who has to work a double shift this fateful day, and will later unwittingly court immortality by cradling the dying Kennedy on the kitchen floor (Documented in a famous photograph). Jose's supervisor Darrell (Christian Slater) is a racist who exploits his minority employees. The Hotel's manager Paul (William H. Macy) carries on an affair with a switchboard operator (Heather Graham), even though his wife Miriam (An effective Sharon Stone) works as the chief stylist at the hotel's salon.

Other characters are on less assured ground. Demi Moore stars as alcoholic singer Virginia Fallon, whose manager husband Tim (Estevez) has grown weary of her diva antics. Their episode feels soap opera-ish. Ditto the relationship between Helen Hunt and Martin Sheen (Who played RFK and JFK in TV movies), which feels superfluous in relation to the rest of the story. Luckily, some much needed comic relief comes compliments of two Kennedy campaign staffers (Shia Lebeouf and Brian Geraghty) who ditch work to trip on acid and talk movies. One of their discussions involves whether Anne Bancroft used a body double in "The Graduate," which is interesting because parts of that film were shot on location at the Ambassador. And in perhaps BOBBY's most topical story, Lindsay Lohan appears as Diane, a young woman who marries William (Elijah Wood) to keep him from being sent to Vietnam.

Trying to lend topical importance to BOBBY is something that should come easily, what with issues of divisive wars and immigration, but Estevez sheds profundity as if he were quoting fortune cookies. A speech by Laurence Fishburne's chef relating the preparation of cobbler to the evolution of character comes off as absurd (Morpheus was more convincing expounding on the Matrix). While the film takes on a highly liberal stance, there's few if any characters to offer opposing conservative views. Estevez makes up for these drastic shortcomings with the genuinely powerful conclusion to the film, especially overdubbing a Kennedy speech on violence in the culture as the Senator lays dying. The recreation of the assassination is unnerving and blunt. In these instances viewers get a glimpse of the great film that might have been, especially when several characters find themselves in the tragic line of fire. Instead, while ambitious and obviously personal, BOBBY remains a mixed bag of B movie simplicity disguised as high art.