Lylee's Blog

Top Ten Films of 2011

2012-01-04T01:14:00.016-05:00

It may have been a dismal year for Hollywood, measured in box office receipts, but 2011 turned out to be a pretty good year for movies. Or, at least, for this moviegoer.

By "pretty good" I mean that I liked, but didn't love, almost everything I saw to at least some degree. I saw quite a lot of well-made, well-acted, engaging films, some of which suffered from the weight of expectations produced by too much advance buzz - a problem I noted last year that's only gotten worse, and is probably at least partly responsible for the large number of B+'s I handed out. Hence one of my minor new year's resolutions is to cut back drastically on reading about movies before I see them - or at least to refrain, once I know enough about a movie to want to see it, from reading anything further about that movie until after I've seen it.

Being spoiled by too much hype did, at least, make me appreciate even more keenly those films that actually exceeded my expectations. And it says something about the strength of this year that there were several such: my entire top five, particularly the top four, which doesn't even include a number of films I badly want to see but either missed in theaters or don't have access to yet (e.g., "Certified Copy," "Meek's Cutoff," "Margaret," "A Separation," "Coriolanus"). But equally tellingly, there's a rather sharp enthusiasm differential between the upper half and lower half of my top ten, and I'm not sure how much of that correlates with actual difference in quality.

With those caveats, here they are:

1. THE TREE OF LIFE

Very much a love-it-or-hate-it proposition, Terrence Malick's tone poem on the wonder and cruelty of life, the universe, and everything has been labeled incoherent, pretentious, self-indulgent, and absurd. It's all of these things. It's also radiantly beautiful and breathtakingly intimate: you can feel the director's soul in every frame.

2. DRIVE

Part dreamy Wong Kar Wai-ish mood piece, part ultraviolent sendup of gangster movies, this exquisitely shot little oddity seemed at first like all style and no substance. But Ryan Gosling's eyes, and the last shot of him driving, specter-like, still haunt me.

3. MELANCHOLIA

If you'd told me a year ago that a Lars von Trier film would be in my top ten, I'd have laughed in your face - and this was before his stupid Nazi jokes. Well, here we are, and what can I say: somehow, the director I loved to hate has managed to channel his mental issues into a mesmerizing tableau of depression that's transmuted by, of all things, an apocalypse - a grim joke that, amazingly, works. Special kudos to Kirsten Dunst for her stunning lead performance.

4. TINKER TAILOR SOLDIER SPY

This lean, streamlined adaptation of a densely plotted John Le Carré novel stands out for how skillfully it evokes not just a specific time and place (principally 1970s London) but the general grayness and weariness that blurred the moral boundaries of Cold War espionage. The film also features a superb cast, headed by a wonderfully understated Gary Oldman as the drab but in no way dull hero. Everyone else is terrific, too; the movie's worth seeing for the acting ensemble alone.

5. MARTHA MARCY MAY MARLENE

You'd never be able to tell that this haunting, opaque film about a girl who joins and then flees a cult is writer-director Sean Durkin's first full-length feature. It has the fluidity and assurance of a far more experienced professional with a distinct artistic vision. Elizabeth Olson (younger sister to Mary Kate and Ashley), too, is a revelation as the troubled protagonist, who escapes one kind of prison only to find herself trapped in another.

6. SHAME

Probably the most beautiful and least erotic movie about sex addiction ever made. I still think director Steve McQueen put too much distance between the audience and the main characters, that even wonderful performances by Michael Fassbender and Carey Mulligan can't quite bridge. But one unforgettable scene - in which Carey Mulligan sings "New York, New York" - makes up for nearly everything.

7. THE DESCENDANTS

Rather like its protagonist, Alexander Payne's low-key Hawaiian dramedy is flawed, shambling, a bit clumsy, and takes a while to find its footing - yet has an underlying warmth and sensitivity that shines through. I found its leisurely pace and its focus on father-daughter dynamics refreshing, where others might find it dull or meandering. I liked its quietness. And I loved Shailene Woodley as the prickly yet loyal teenage daughter.

8. TAKE SHELTER

A fraternal twin of "Martha Marcy May Marlene" - this one centered on a troubled man rather than a troubled girl - with apocalyptic overtones that open it up to any number of sociological, psychological, and allegorical interpretations. Even if you don't buy into any of those, it's still a compellingly creepy little piece of modern American Gothic.

9. CAVE OF FORGOTTEN DREAMS

Werner Herzog + prehistoric cave art = irreplicable experience. Not Herzog's best work, but still hits all the right Herzogian notes, and uses 3D better than any film I've ever seen. You feel like you can almost reach out and touch those cave paintings, and not in that gimmicky, faintly unreal 3D way.

10. Tie: THE ARTIST and SUPER 8

They both pay homage to far superior films - or, to borrow a comment I read once about "Super 8" that applies equally to "The Artist," they're good movies that remind you of great ones. They're on this list because they did quite well what they sought to do, and, damn it, because they were fun. A little nostalgia goes a long way.

Christmas Movie Roundup

2012-01-02T20:06:00.002-05:00

As always, I'm kicking off the new year feeling as stuffed as a Christmas goose (do people still have goose for Christmas?) - not from eating (well, that too) but from excessive moviegoing, topped off with a frantic end-of-year binge on Oscar hopefuls. And as usual, I'm already ridiculously backlogged on reviews as a result of having seen what feels like half of the total movies I saw all year in just the last three months. But what can I say - it's tradition. Happy new year!

TINKER, TAILOR, SOLDIER, SPY

directed by Tomas Alfredson
starring Gary Oldman, John Hurt, Toby Jones, Colin Firth, Ciaran Hinds, Mark Strong, Benedict Cumberbatch, Tom Hardy, others, all fantastic
based on the novel by John Le Carré

GRADE: B+/A- (may bump this up to A- if it jells well; it's only been a couple of days)

THE ARTIST

written and directed by Michel Hazanavicius
starring Jean Dujardin, Bérénice Bejo, James Cromwell, John Goodman, Penelope Ann Miller

GRADE: B+

THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO

directed by David Fincher
starring Daniel Craig, Rooney Mara, Christopher Plummer, Stellan Skarsgaard, Robin Wright Penn
based on the novel by Stieg Larsson

GRADE: B+

THE ADVENTURES OF TINTIN: THE SECRET OF THE UNICORN

directed by Steven Spielberg
starring (sort of) Jamie Bell, Andy Serkis, Daniel Craig, Simon Pegg, Nick Frost
loosely based on several of Hergé's Tintin serials

GRADE: B

Reviews to come, some time, but probably not before I make my best of 2011 list

Fassbender vs. Fassbender: Studies in sexual compulsion

2011-12-21T00:02:00.001-05:00

SHAME

directed by Steve McQueen (no, not *that* Steve McQueen)
starring Michael Fassbender, Carey Mulligan, James Badge Dale

GRADE: B+

A DANGEROUS METHOD

directed by David Cronenberg
starring Viggo Mortensen, Michael Fassbender, Keira Knightley

GRADE: B/B+

Reviews to come

"Melancholia": Ending the world with a bang and a whimper

2011-12-20T23:58:00.003-05:00

MELANCHOLIA

directed by Lars von Trier
starring Kirsten Dunst, Charlotte Gainsbourg, Kiefer Sutherland, others

GRADE: B+/A-

In a nutshell: What I thought impossible, a von Trier film I actually really liked. The world *must* be ending.

Review to come

Just in time for the holidays - comas, orphans, and second chances in "The Descendants," "Hugo"

2011-11-28T22:24:00.002-05:00

THE DESCENDANTS

directed by Alexander Payne
starring George Clooney, Shailene Woodley, Robert Forster, Matthew Lillard, Judy Greer

GRADE: B+

HUGO

directed by Martin Scorsese
starring Ben Kingsley, Asa Butterfield, Chloë Grace Moretz, Sacha Baron Cohen, Jude Law, Christopher Lee, others

GRADE: B+

Reviews to come

Mad visions, visionary madness blur in "Take Shelter," "Martha"

2011-11-01T21:19:00.000-04:00

MARTHA MARCY MAY MARLENE

written and directed by Sean Durkin
starring Elizabeth Olsen, John Hawkes, Sarah Paulson, Hugh Dancy

GRADE: B+/A-

TAKE SHELTER

written and directed by Jeff Shelton
starring Michael Shannon, Jessica Chastain

GRADE: B+

Reviews to come

Clooney v. Pitt - Too close to call

2011-10-11T23:39:00.012-04:00

THE IDES OF MARCH

directed by George Clooney
starring Clooney, Ryan Gosling, Philip Seymour Hoffmann, Paul Giamatti, Evan Rachel Wood, Marisa Tomei, Max Minghella, Jennifer Ehle
based on the play Farragut North by Beau Willimon

IN A NUTSHELL: Slick, entertaining, if shallow political drama that ultimately doesn't have an original bone in its body. "All the President's Men" this ain't, despite the heavy stylistic homage to Pakula's classic. None of the characters is really well developed - some, if not all, seem much more like devices than characters - and most of the plot twists are fairly predictable. Yet despite all that, the film is damn watchable, thanks to the sharp acting and even sharper pacing. Don't look for any new insights here on the corrupting effects of political power; just enjoy the spectacle of a bunch of terrific actors playing a game of political "Survivor."

GRADE: B/B+

MONEYBALL

directed by Bennett Miller
starring Brad Pitt, Jonah Hill, Philip Seymour Hoffmann, Robin Wright
based on the book by Michael Lewis

IN A NUTSHELL: Unexpectedly quiet and thoughtful for a movie that's set in the high-stakes universe of major league baseball. Perhaps thoughtful to a fault: at times, the film feels a tad sluggish, and its earnest attempts to develop the psychology of Billy Beane (Pitt), the GM who pioneered the sabermetric revolution, can feel a bit forced. Not so surprisingly, the parts dealing with Beane's own failed career as a ball player fit more smoothly into the film's overall trajectory than the parts dealing with his (fictional?) relationship with his daughter and ex-wife. In a way, "Moneyball" is the exact inverse of "The Ides of March": it's got all of the character (and other) depth "Ides" lacks, but none of the pacing. Nevertheless, engaging overall, with fine work by Pitt and an unprecedentedly subdued Hill.

GRADE: B/B+

Full reviews to come

Style trumps substance in "Drive," "Contagion"

2011-09-20T00:08:00.004-04:00

DRIVE

directed by Nicolas Winding Refn
starring Ryan Gosling, Carey Mulligan, Bryan Cranston, Albert Brooks, Ron Perlman, Christina Hendricks

IN A NUTSHELL: Possibly the most seductively shot film I've seen all year; stylistically, Michael Mann meets Wong Kar-Wai, without quite the depth of either. Warning: considerable brutal violence - not for the faint of heart.

GRADE: pending, but at least a B+, no higher than an A-

CONTAGION

directed by Steven Soderbergh
starring a large ensemble including Matt Damon, Gwyneth Paltrow, Kate Winslet, Marion Cotillard, Laurence Fishburne, Jennifer Ehle, Bryan Cranston, John Hawkes, etc.

IN A NUTSHELL: Soderbergh is a prodigiously skilled director, but there's a certain coolness about his work - an almost clinical detachment that can sometimes make his films seem more superficial than they actually are. "Contagion" suffers a little from this tendency, and from the ambitiousness of its scope. At its best it's reminiscent of Soderbergh's "Traffic"; at worst, it has the overworked feel of a Gonzalez Inarritu film (e.g., "Babel"), though (thankfully) with far less histrionics.

GRADE: B/B+

Full reviews coming soon

Also saw:

THE DEBT

directed by John Madden
starring Helen Mirren, Ciaran Hinds, Tom Wilkinson, Jessica Chastain, Sam Worthington, Marton Czokas, Jesper Christensen

IN A NUTSHELL: I think I have a girl crush on Jessica Chastain.

GRADE: B/B+

Fall Movie Preview

2011-09-05T11:42:00.014-04:00

The end of summer may induce melancholy in some, but not me—at least not since I moved back to the East Coast from California and became reacquainted with the four seasons. Fall has always been my favorite time of year, not just because of the cooler, crisper weather but because the arts and culture scene wakes up from its summer slumber. Nowhere is this truer than in movieland, where Hollywood starts hustling its high-quality wares, even if it keeps back its most anticipated items until December for maximum Oscars potential.

But this fall isn’t all about Oscars bait for me. Of far more interest is the return of no fewer than three directors who each made at least one of my all-time favorite films but haven’t released anything in quite a while, as well as other, more prolific directors I admire. Cameron Crowe, Kenneth Lonergan, Andrew Niccol, two Stevens (Soderbergh and Spielberg) and two Davids (Cronenberg and Fincher)—is it any wonder I’m excited?

In order of release date, these are the ten films I’m most looking forward to between now and Christmas:

CONTAGION (Sept. 9)
As a borderline-OCD germophobe, I probably shouldn’t see this film, which just seems like a more serious, better-crafted version of “Outbreak.” But with that cast (Matt Damon, Kate Winslet, Gwyneth Paltrow, Jude Law, Marion Cotillard, Laurence Fishburne, Jennifer Ehle, John Hawkes, Bryan Cranston, others I’m probably forgetting), and more importantly, with Steven Soderbergh directing, it could be terrifying—in a good way.

DRIVE (Sept. 16)
Ryan Gosling stars as a getaway driver who falls for Carey Mulligan and learns a hit’s been put on him. This film had tremendous buzz at Cannes and is supposed to be absolutely riveting. Plus, Gosling’s on a hot streak now, which makes just about anything he does these days worth checking out. Also stars Albert Brooks as the heavy(!), Ron Perlman, Christina Hendricks, and Bryan Cranston.

MARGARET (Sept. 30)
Kenneth Lonergan’s follow-up to the sublime “You Can Count on Me” has been in limbo for over five years; rumor has it that the film was too long, Lonergan refused to make cuts, and early test screenings received dismal responses. None of these are encouraging signs, to say the least; but after YCCoM, I’m willing to give Lonergan the benefit of the doubt. The film centers on a young girl (Anna Paquin) who witnesses a bus crash and must deal with the consequences. Matt Damon and Mark Ruffalo co-star.

THE IDES OF MARCH (Oct. 7)
George Clooney has proven an able director in the past, and his latest effort cannily capitalizes on the current political zeitgeist—specifically, cynicism and disillusionment with political candidates who once inspired our most fanatical devotion. (Nope, not talking about me; I never drank the Obama ’08 Kool-Aid, even though I voted for him.) Clooney looks well cast as the candidate who’s poised to take a fall; Ryan Gosling’s even better cast as the former true believer who turns on his guy. Also co-stars Philip Seymour Hoffman, Paul Giamatti, and Evan Rachel Wood. Heavyweight Oscar contender right here, although initial reception at the Toronto Film Festival was surprisingly tepid.

IN TIME (Oct. 28)
Writer-director Andrew Niccol’s never quite lived up to the promise of his 1997 debut film “Gattaca” (or his script for Peter Weir’s “The Truman Show”), but I dig his continued interest in humanity’s propensity for engineering society. In this one, humans don’t age past 25, but they’re also not allowed to live any longer unless they can literally buy extra time. Justin Timberlake plays a man who unexpectedly inherits a huge windfall of time but then has to go on the run when he’s falsely accused of murder. A better, less campy “Logan’s Run”? I’ll give it a chance unless reviews are abysmal. Co-stars Amanda Seyfried, and Olivia Wilde; Cillian Murphy and “Mad Men’s” Vincent Kartheiser also appear.

A DANGEROUS METHOD (Nov. 23)
David Cronenberg’s take on Freud, Jung, and the (apocryphal?) female patient who came between them is bound to be dark and erotically twisted. The movie’s trailer unfortunately reminds me that Keira Knightly can be really grating—but either Viggo Mortensen or Michael Fassbender (who, by the way, could totally play brothers) alone would be enough to get me into a movie theater any day. Besides, Cronenberg’s done superb work with Viggo in the past (“A History of Violence,” “Eastern Promises”).

THE ARTIST (Nov. 23)
Who’d have thought a black and white silent film—about a silent film star on the verge of obsolesence with the rise of “talkies”—would be such a hit at Cannes? Its success may be mostly nostalgia-fueled, but the film’s apparently delightful. Count me intrigued.

THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO (Dec. 21)
Haven’t read the books (nor do I particularly want to) or seen the original Swedish film adaptations, but the combination of director David Fincher, the casting of Daniel Craig, Rooney Mara, and Christopher Plummer, and the übercool trailer definitely piqued my interest in the American version.

THE ADVENTURES OF TINTIN: THE SECRET OF THE UNICORN (Dec. 23)
I’m not wild about the choice of capture-animation technique, but as a HUGE Tintin fan and a more temperate Spielberg fan, I can’t not see this. A little worried that the film will flop in the U.S. (where Tintin doesn’t seem to have much name recognition), but I expect it’ll score decent international box office, especially in Europe.

WE BOUGHT A ZOO (Dec. 23)
Two words: CAMERON CROWE. Now don’t eff it up like you did last time with “Elizabethtown,” Cam—no one’s better than you when you’re on your game. Matt Damon plays a widower with a young family who, yep, buys a zoo after his wife’s death. Based on a book. Scarlett Johansson plays the love interest; despite that, I’ll still see it.

Other films I may check out this fall if the reviews are good:

MONEYBALL (Sept. 23): Haven’t read the book, unconvinced it will make a watchable movie, but mildly curious to see if it proves me wrong. However, I’m rather turned off by the presence of Jonah Hill.

LIKE CRAZY (Oct. 28): This bittersweet tale of two lovers who try (and, I think, fail) to make a long-distance relationship work was a hit at Sundance; the subject matter resonates with me for personal reasons.

J EDGAR (Nov. 9): Clint directs Leo in this biopic about the FBI’s notorious first director. I’m tired of seeing Leo clench his jaw and furrow his brow to convey suppressed anguish (kid, can you do a comedy for a change, please? You were quite charming in “Catch Me If You Can”), but I have some interest in what Dustin Lance Black (screenwriter for the excellent “Milk”) did with the script—and with the longstanding rumors of Hoover’s closeted homosexuality.

CORIOLANUS (Dec. 2): Ralph Fiennes does Shakespeare - stars and directs. I'm almost sold, except that I’ve never read Coriolanus.

MISSION IMPOSSIBLE: GHOST PROTOCOL” (Dec. 21): Wasn’t remotely interested until I saw that Brad Bird (“The Incredibles,” “The Iron Giant”) was directing. Can he breathe new life into a wheezing franchise? We’ll see…

"The Help" may be the most uncontroversial controversial movie ever; anguished broken people trip by the light of "Another Earth"

2011-08-29T23:45:00.023-04:00

First off: finished reviews of SOURCE CODE, THE ADJUSTMENT BUREAU, JANE EYRE, and HANNA are finally up. What? It's only been, er, five months.

And now, for more recent movie fare:

THE HELP

directed by Tate Taylor
starring Viola Davis, Emma Stone, Octavia Spencer, Bryce Dallas Howard, Jessica Chastain, Allison Janney, Sissy Spacek
based on the novel by Kathryn Stockett

The Help, Kathryn Stockett’s bestselling novel about black maids and their white female employers in 1960’s Jackson, Mississippi, has been wildly popular among the soccer-mom set (and others), less so among African Americans (and others) turned off by the premise: a young white woman persuades her friends’ maids to tell her how they really feel about their work and their employers, so she can turn their accounts into a book. A number of critics have questioned the need for yet another story in which the black characters occupy largely passive, subservient roles while the spotlight remains on the enlightened white protagonists. Some take particular issue with the idea of black persons in the ’60s needing a white person to help them speak out, in light of the many courageous African Americans who were speaking out at the time, on their own initiative, and at considerable risk to their lives.

I’ve read The Help and while it’s not without problems, I submit it’s also more complicated and shaded than the negative view suggests. Of the three main characters, two are black, one white, and the narrative is equally weighted among the three of them, as the movie also generally reflects. Neither of the black protagonists can fairly be called passive or subservient, and to the extent they or their peers remain silent about any ill treatment, they’re motivated primarily, if not solely, by economic necessity. And even in the face of that necessity, one of them, Minny, is still notoriously outspoken; the other, Aibileen, while outwardly quieter, inwardly burns at every injustice, and proves to be the primary mover in getting all the other maids to participate in the writing project. The civil rights movement, while relevant and a powerful counterpoint to their story, isn’t supposed to be represented or displaced by it; the tales they tell are as much about the complexity of the ties that bind them to their employers as the injustice of the social order that taints those ties. All that said, there’s no denying The Help is a bit of a white liberal wish fulfillment fantasy—Stockett herself has virtually admitted as much in discussing her affection for the now-deceased maid who raised her, and her wish that she had been able to ask the sorts of questions that her stand-in, “Skeeter” Phelan, puts to Aibileen, Minny, and their peers.

The movie pretty much keeps intact all of the book’s strengths and weaknesses—chief among the former, the vividness of the female characters (the men are barely present here), boosted by stellar performances from the cast. Viola Davis, Octavia Spencer, and Emma Stone convincingly inhabit the three central characters: Davis, not surprisingly, is the most nuanced as Aibileen; Spencer the funniest and snappiest as Minny; while Stone holds her own as the coltish, independent-minded Skeeter. The supporting players add extra comic flair, with Bryce Dallas Howard staying just this side of cartoonish villainy as Hilly Holbrook, Skeeter’s frenemy and the most virulently racist of her set, and Sissy Spacek getting in some good cracks in her limited screen time as Hilly’s put-upon mother. Jessica Chastain, too, in a 180 from her ethereal mother-goddess role in “The Tree of Life,” scores laughs as the ditzy town outcast who married out of her class and also happens to be the only white woman in town (other than Skeeter) who treats her maid, Minny, as an equal and a friend. If this all seems too feel-good, that’s because it is; but the actresses make it work.

Not that “The Help” is all laughs and sunshine. Even if the worst violence of the civil rights struggle remains mostly offscreen, there’s ample racism of a particularly insidious nature on display – most of it channeled through Hilly Holbrook, the story's resident Wicked Witch of the West. There’s also plenty of heart-tugging, and you may find yourself reaching for a Kleenex more than once; Davis’ face alone shows all the wear and tear Aibileen’s experiences over the years have taken on her soul. Though for my money, the best bit of acting in the movie comes from Allison Janney (who up till then is unremarkable as Skeeter’s mom), in a single scene in which, under pressure, her character makes a terrible decision that leads to even more terrible consequences. That scene, along with Mrs. Phelan’s character generally, was revised to make her more sympathetic, which admittedly tends to undercut one of the book’s subtler messages—that otherwise decent, well-meaning people can be intransigent racists. Still, Janney plays the moment so well it’s hard to complain about the change.

Ultimately, “The Help” is closer to what used to be called a “woman’s picture” (minus the pejorative connotations of that term) than a picture about race. Its underlying theme, as in the book, is that all these women are inextricably emotionally connected to one another, and that these connections transcend the arbitrary social boundaries that separate them. Understandably, some may find this message glosses over the destructiveness and divisiveness of racism, which still lingers today. But its appeal is undeniable, and will undoubtedly help “The Help” find a wide audience.

GRADE: B

Also saw:

ANOTHER EARTH

directed by Mike Cahill
starring Brit Marling, William Mapother

That “other Earth” that floats, dreamlike, through this film? It’s a MacGuffin. Put another way, “Another Earth” isn’t sci-fi, at least no more so than, say, “Solaris” was. The improbable (indeed, scientifically impossible) premise of this Sundance fave—that an exact duplicate of our own planet would suddenly materialize in our sky, apparently in our solar system and within a distance reachable by space travel—is no more than a jumping-off point for questions about chance, choice, and redemption, which are thoughtfully if not particularly profoundly explored in the script.

Newcomer Brit Marling, who also co-wrote that script, stars as Rhoda Dawes, a bright young girl and budding astronomer who, on the night the “other earth” first appears, makes a disastrously stupid mistake that wipes out her promising future and exacts a far higher cost from several other people, including a composer named John Burroughs (William Mapother). Four years later, we see Rhoda living with her family in Connecticut, but basically existing in utter isolation—that is, until she encounters Burroughs, who’s now a shell of his former self. Intending to apologize, she loses her nerve when he doesn’t recognize her and instead of identifying herself, tries to make amends to him in other ways. The result is the gradual development of a tentative relationship between the two that feels both plausible and queasily wrong. Meanwhile, Rhoda contemplates entering a contest to win a free seat on a privately funded shuttle flight to “Earth 2.” She can’t help but wonder—wouldn’t you?—if there’s another version of herself over there, and if so, whether she’s made the same decisions, the same mistakes, or followed precisely the same path. (In one of the movie’s best scenes, a scientist makes direct communication with a counterpart on Earth 2, and finds herself talking to…herself. Or is it really herself?)

“Another Earth” has the grainy indie-film look down pat, and like others of its ilk, it’s a little too in love with the use of hand-held camera, though the jagged movement and bleak, wintry hues reflect Rhoda’s mental and emotional state aptly enough. The plot follows a fairly predictable course, though one tinged with dread at the prospect of Burroughs’ reaction if he ever discovers the truth about Rhoda. (That dread is heightened by the casting of Mapother, who tends to play menacing types and whom I, for one, will always associate with creepy Ethan from “Lost.”) Overall, though, the film is less a suspense or plot-driven vehicle than it is a mood piece that plays with various philosophical and existential questions, tossing them out there for the viewer’s consideration, rather than rigorously engaging them. This approach doesn’t always work; for instance, I could have done without the saintly, shuffling Indian mystic whose name, I kid you not, is Purdeep, and who seems to serve as a walking trope rather than an actual character. But for the most part, the film’s light touch is appropriate to the modesty of its scope: it’s trying to make you think, not blow your mind, and at that level it succeeds.

GRADE: B/B+

Capsule reviews:

CRAZY, STUPID, LOVE

directed by Glenn Ficcara & John Requa
starring Steve Carell, Ryan Gosling, Julianne Moore, Emma Stone, Marisa Tomei, Kevin Bacon, others

Although it’s being billed as a romantic comedy, “Crazy, Stupid, Love” is really more of a dramedy. It seems to be mining Cameron Crowe territory with its equal attention to the difficulties of beginning, ending, and sustaining relationships, but sadly comes up short. (That’s not really a slur, considering Cameron Crowe himself came up short with his last film, “Elizabethtown.”) It’s hard to tap into both the humor and the pathos of love and create an emotionally coherent film, and this isn’t it. Tonally, CSL feels disjointed, shifting abruptly between various registers, from poignant reflection to broad comedy to puppy-dog romance to full-on tearjerker mode and back again. The quality, too, is uneven: there are some wonderful moments—mostly involving Ryan Gosling as the ladykiller who teaches Steve Carell’s schlumpy divorcé how to be a pickup artist, but himself falls for the one girl who resists his game—and some cringeworthy ones, mostly involving the teenage son of Carell’s character and the beestung-lipped babysitter with whom he’s besotted. Gosling and Carell have a pleasant rapport, and Emma Stone, as Gosling’s love interest, is as winsome as always. But I never found myself truly caring about the relationship between Carell’s sad sack and his ex-wife (Julianne Moore), which I sense is meant to be the emotional core of the film. Perhaps the writers should have spent more time on developing that relationship, and less on the teenage son’s romantic travails. Not that teenage romantic travails are by definition less interesting; they’re just not made compelling here. Paging Cameron Crowe, circa 1989…

GRADE: B/B-

CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE FIRST AVENGER

directed by Joe Johnston
starring Chris Evans, Hugo Weaving, Tommy Lee Jones, Hayley Atwell, Stanley Tucci, Dominic Cooper, Toby Jones

“Captain America” was exactly what I was looking for on a hot July night—good silly fun. There’s something inherently appealing about a superhero who was once the proverbial 90-pound weakling, and the movie spends just the right amount of time building sympathy for him before juicing him up, even if the sight of Chris Evans’ head atop a shrimpy body that’s clearly not his is somewhat distracting. Evans manages to convey the fundamental decency of the “weak” Steve Rogers, who’s all heart, no muscle, and has some nice moments with the always-great Stanley Tucci, barely recognizable as the German doctor who recognizes Steve’s quality and chooses him for his superhero serum. Post-transformation Steve, aka Captain America, is less interesting, though still likable, but that doesn’t matter so much once the action kicks into full gear. Besides, there are plenty more interesting characters around him, including the delightfully unhinged Nazi villain, the Red Skull (Hugo Weaving), and the gruff, unflappable American officer played by Tommy Lee Jones. The movie’s supposed to take place during WWII, but the stylized, vaguely unreal sets and coy love story (with Hayley Atwell as a doughty British female agent) feel a little like they’ve been lifted from “Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow,” which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. The plot barrels efficiently towards a climax that would feel much more dramatic if we didn’t all damn well know the whole thing is just a segue to next year’s “Avengers.” Still, as a result of that tie-in, the movie ends on an unexpectedly wistful note that’s rather charming. And I admit it: I’m looking forward to “The Avengers,” if only to see Chris Hemsworth’s Thor interact with Evans’ Captain America and Robert Downey, Jr’s Iron Man.

GRADE: B

Midsummer Movie Roundup

2011-07-19T00:53:00.019-04:00

I saw very two different movies this past weekend: HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS (Part 2), and THE TREE OF LIFE. Still processing both, but not surprisingly I've been ruminating much more on the latter. I'm coming to the conclusion that it's the best film I've seen so far this year, though I can also see why it's been so divisive. Even more than Malick's previous films (the ones I've seen, anyway), "Tree of Life" eschews anything resembling linear narrative in favor of a style by turns kaleidoscopic, meditative, and dreamlike, and sometimes all three at once. And in probing such big-picture questions as - quite literally - life, the universe, and everything in this free-floating manner, it may strike some as incoherent, others as overly facile and self-indulgent. It's not immune to such charges; I found myself occasionally rolling my eyes a little, especially during the first third or so. But as the film went on I felt myself being swept up, engulfed by its stunning beauty, and I surrendered. For all its philosophical and metaphysical aspirations, "Tree of Life" is also an incredibly sensuous film, one you can feel resonating through your entire consciousness, physical as well as spiritual. Malick drowns you in beauty - visual, aural, emotional - and unless you check out early, resistance is futile; detachment impossible. GRADE: A- (full review to come)

As for Harry Potter's final big-screen bow, I have little to say except that it's a solid, well-made, honorable ending to a series that has generally been solid, well-made, and honorable almost to a fault. My biggest complaint about the movies is also one that I think may be impossible to cure: that for the most part they do a better job of capturing the letter of the books than they do the spirit. Thing is, I don't think that spirit can really be conveyed on the screen, for reasons too complicated to lay out here, though I've discussed them in reviews of the previous HP films. GRADE: B

Other movies I've seen in the last month or so, in brief:

X-MEN: FIRST CLASS

directed by Matthew Vaughn
starring James McAvoy, Michael Fassbender, Kevin Bacon, Jennifer Lawrence, Rose Byrne, January Jones, Nicholas Hoult, Oliver Platt, others

Better than X-Men 3 and, by all accounts, Hugh Jackman's spinoff adventure as Wolverine (which I didn't see), but not as good as the first two. Michael Fassbender as a young Magneto is easily the best and most compelling thing about the movie, and not just because he's a dish. He's also mesmerizing as the man (excuse me, mutant) driven by pain, loss, and anger to an implacable desire for revenge that makes Wolverine's brooding (with all due respect to Jackman, whom I love) look like childish sulking. James McAvoy and Kevin Bacon also acquit themselves respectably as, respectively, Magneto's "old friend" and even older nemesis, and it's his relationships with these two that make up the core of the film. The rest is just filler, though watchable filler.

GRADE: B; Fassbender: A

SUPER 8

directed by J.J. Abrams
starring Kyle Chandler, Elle Fanning, Ron Eldard, Noah Emmerich, and some very talented kids

A pleasant throwback to early Spielberg (who produced), when underlying family dynamics were as important as the aliens and adventures that disrupted them. Not as good as the films it pays homage to (think "E.T." and "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" mixed with "Goonies," a dash of "Jurassic Park" and a sprinkling of "Stand By Me" - yes, I know those aren't all Spielberg films) and peters out a little near the end. But overall, a highly enjoyable summer popcorn movie with an appealing cast, especially the kiddies. Definitely stay for the end credits - that may be the best part.

GRADE: B+

BEGINNERS

written and directed by Mike Mills
starring Ewan McGregor, Christopher Plummer, Mélanie Laurent

The three billed stars are all charming in this dramedy about a man trying to plumb the meaning of the life and death of a father who came out of the closet at the age of 70+, and to find love with a woman who's as afraid of intimacy as he is. The film's more melancholy than its previews may lead you to believe, though it also tries a little too hard for playful whimsy and cuteness, and not just because it features a Jack Russell terrier who "speaks" in silent subtitles. As scripted, the relationships don't always feel real. But the performances do, and have a pensive, wistful quality that will tug at your heart.

GRADE: B/B+

BRIDESMAIDS

directed by Paul Feig
starring Kristen Wiig, Maya Rudolph, Rose Byrne, Melissa McCarthy, Jon Hamm, Jill Clayburgh, others

Yes, this is basically a female Judd Apatow film. It's funny, occasionally off color, even gross - though neither as funny nor as gross as billed - with a squishy, sweet center (fittingly, the main character is a former cupcake maker) and no adult men in sight; even the good guy (Chris O'Dowd) spends much of the movie acting like a pouty little boy, while Jon Hamm makes the most of his role as a cartoonish cad, burnishing those comic chops that never get shown on "Mad Men." Fortunately, this time the focus is on the gals, who own the stage proudly. Kristen Wiig is in fine form here, and shows she can carry a movie. Melissa McCarthy has been getting a lot of plaudits as the crazy loose-cannon bridesmaid, but I think the overlooked gem here is Rose Byrne, who's pitch-perfect as Wiig's rich, haughty, beautiful, and totally insufferable rival/nemesis.

GRADE: B

May Movie Roundup

2011-06-01T22:27:00.005-04:00

CAVE OF FORGOTTEN DREAMS

directed by Werner Herzog

Herzog brings his unmistakable documentary voice to the Chauvet caves, which house the oldest known cave art in the world, but which the French government closed off from general public access since they were first discovered in 1994. Herzog shows characteristic fascination with eccentric obsessives who march to their own drum - here the various artists and scientists who were allowed to study the caves - but wisely focuses most of his attention on the cave art itself, which is sublime. Some points subtracted for too much handheld camera in the early sequences (though that may have been due to the limitations on the type of equipment Herzog's crew were allowed to bring in) and an overly intrusive, though often quite beautiful, score towards the end. Overall, not quite as mesmerizing as Herzog's last docu, "Encounters at the End of the World" (see it!), but overall a rewarding experience, and one of the rare films worth seeing in 3D.

GRADE: B+

MIDNIGHT IN PARIS

directed by Woody Allen
starring Owen Wilson, Rachel McAdams, Marion Cotillard, Michael Sheen, with brief appearances by Kathy Bates, Allison Pill, Tom Hiddleston, Adrien Brody, Carla Bruni, and probably others I'm forgetting

Fluff, but enjoyable fluff, with all of Woody's best and worst qualities amply on display. The good: his trademark wit; his palpable affection for the beauty of the city (here, the "City of Light" in lieu of Manhattan - or Barcelona), balanced by a wry self-awareness of the limits of his rose-colored, nostalgia-tinted lenses; Owen Wilson, as the backwards-looking writer who finds himself shuttling between present day Paris and the Left Bank culture of the 1920s, and a surprisingly amiable stand-in for the Woody character - even if I kept hearing in my own head an echo of every other line as it would have been delivered by the Woodster. The bad: just about every character other than Owen Wilson's is a caricature, and per usual with late Woody, every female character either a harpy or a goddess (except for Kathy Bates' Gertrude Stein, who, well, enough said, and I mean that as a compliment). Still, it's hard to carp at a film that's quite clearly not meant for such scrutiny. It's a romp and a diversion, and succeeds on those terms.

GRADE: B

THOR

directed by Kenneth Branagh
starring Chris Hemsworth, Anthony Hopkins, Natalie Portman, Stellan Skarsgaard, Kat Dennings, Tom Hiddleston, Idris Elba

Big, kinda dumb, but rather likable, if also rather forgettable. Australian newcomer Chris Hemsworth, as the rash and impetuous thunder-god who's stripped of his powers and cast down to Earth to learn humility, has charisma to burn, and plays the fish-out-of-water quite entertainingly. As a result, those scenes are the most fun; the celestial showdowns are clunkier, although Tom Hiddleston (who can also be seen as F. Scott Fitzgerald in Woody Allen's "Midnight in Paris," see above), as Thor's more complex, devious, power-hungry brother Loki, makes them a lot more interesting and nearly steals the movie. Hemsworth is the star, and an appealing one, but Hiddleston is the one to watch.

GRADE: B/B-

Summer 2011 Movie Preview; R.I.P. Sidney Lumet

2011-05-02T21:54:00.004-04:00

I can already feel it: the heat rising up in waves, the yearning for ice cold lemonade, and the odor of artificial butter wafting through the air. Which can only mean one thing: the summer movie season is almost here!

Per usual, we have an overgenerous helping of superhero flicks and sequels to look forward to this year, and your guess on their quality is as good as mine at this point. I can't say there's any movie in the offing that I'm especially excited about, but here are a handful that I'm at least mildly interested in seeing.

THOR (May 6)
Ok, the previews for this look super-cheesy. But Kenneth Branagh still has a special place in my heart, and I'm curious to see what he does with this genre. Let's hope the result is more "Henry V" than "Mary Shelley's Frankenstein." Also, dude who plays Thor (Chris Hemsworth) is smokin'. I swear it's his smile I find engaging, not his pecs. Well, not just his pecs, anyway. (By way of comparison, pecs aren't enough to interest me in Ryan Reynolds' Green Lantern.)

THE TREE OF LIFE (May 27)
What better time for the famously unprolific Terrence Malick to release his new film than, uh, the beginning of summer? Maybe it's smart counter-programming to the likes of "Thor" and "Pirates of the Caribbean 4." Malick is one of those directors most people find either profoundly poetic or stupefyingly boring; some, a bit of both. Maybe I fall among the latter, as the word that always comes to my mind to describe his films is "hypnotic." Anyway, all I know about this one is that Sean Penn spends a lot of time somberly reflecting on his childhood in the '50s, when his dad was Brad Pitt. Oh yeah, and there are dinosaurs.

X-MEN: FIRST CLASS (June 3)
Michael Fassbender as a young Magneto and James McAvoy as a young Xavier? Yes, please. Who cares that neither of them looks remotely like his later-in-life counterpart (well, the chameleonic Fassbender can look sort of like anyone, but Ian McKellen is a stretch) - both are terrific actors, and dishy to boot. Also featuring January Jones as Emma Frost, Jennifer Lawrence (of "Winter's Bone" fame) as a young Mystique, Nicholas Hoult as a young Hank McCoy/Beast, and Rose Byrne and Kevin Bacon as...other people. New director Matthew Vaughn ("Layer Cake," "Kick Ass") takes the helm. He's gotta be better than Brett Ratner, right?

BEGINNERS (June 3)
The trailer makes the movie look like it's trying too hard to please (cute dog + Christopher Plummer being all twinkly, draw your own conclusions) - but damned if this little dramedy about a 70+ year old man (Plummer) who comes out of the closet after discovering he has terminal cancer and embraces a new philosophy of carpe diem, much to the bemusement of his son (Ewan McGregor), doesn't look perfectly charming. Also stars the lovely Mélanie Laurent ("Inglorious Basterds") as McGregor's love interest.

SUPER 8 (June 10)
J.J. Abrams has piqued a fair amount of interest with his teaser of a...teaser, which, as with "Cloverfield," works off the premise that less is more. I'm guessing the movie involves...aliens? And yummy-yet-dependable Kyle Chandler as a local deputy and Elle Fanning as one of three wide-eyed kids who witness something strange...probably involving aliens. This could be a bust, but Kyle Chandler's described it as having the vibe of early Spielberg, in which case, I'm in.

HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS - PART 2 (July 15)
The end is near. Having been vaguely disappointed by nearly every HP film adaptation except for "Order of the Phoenix," I'm not sure why I'm looking forward to this one. But I am, and I still plan to see it - for closure, if nothing else. If the book marked the end of an era, the movie puts a seal on it.

CAPTAIN AMERICA (July 22)
While Chris Evans does nothing for me (again, pecs ain't everything), I like the retro feel I'm getting from the film's trailers - it takes place during WWII, yes? Looks solidly entertaining, if nothing groundbreaking. And who doesn't love Tommy Lee Jones playing a gruff military type?

COWBOYS & ALIENS (July 29)
Really, how can you not want to see a movie that's called "Cowboys and Aliens"? Though the studio execs are apparently freaking out because they didn't intend or expect the movie to be treated as a joke. Ok, suits, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt: maybe it works as a straight-up action/adventure flick, and I'll try to view it as such. However, I reserve the right to laugh at any unintentional comedy.

CRAZY, STUPID, LOVE (July 29)
Romantic comedies aren't so much my thing, and I can't say the premise for this one looks particularly fresh or promising: smooth playa (Ryan Gosling) coaches chump (Steve Carell) how to pick up the ladies, only to find himself falling for a girl (Emma Stone) who doesn't fall for his game - wasn't this movie made already, and wasn't it called "Hitch"? That said, I do love Steve Carell, Emma Stone, and most of all, Ryan Gosling, so I will see this one if the reviews are decent.

THE HELP (Aug. 12)
Adapting a best-selling novel to film can be a dicey proposition, and "The Help" will have to strive especially mightily to overcome Hollywood's natural tendency to give more screen time and better lighting to more famous white actors at the expense of lesser known actors of color. Because to do that with *this* movie would be to undermine the entire premise of the book (which I haven't read yet, but plan to before the movie comes out). Not that Hollywood isn't entirely capable of doing that. However, assuming they don't, I think I'll enjoy seeing Emma Stone interact with Viola Davis and Octavia Spencer.

********

I'm extremely behind in paying my respects to the late, great Sidney Lumet, and must admit I'm not really equipped to do it properly. Of his films, I've only seen "12 Angry Men" and "Network" (which, admittedly, were among his very best), and parts of "Dog Day Afternoon." "The Verdict" and "Murder on the Orient Express" are somewhere on my Netflix queue, and "Serpico" and DDA ought to be. But even if I had seen his entire oeuvre, I doubt I could improve on A.O. Scott's wonderful piece - not an obit so much as an insightful, persuasive, if slightly depressing analysis of the place Lumet occupied in cinematic history, as the natural link between Elia Kazan and Martin Scorsese. Read and enjoy.

"Source Code" beats "Adjustment Bureau" for Hollywood's existential excursion of the month; Belated R.I.P. Elizabeth Taylor

2011-04-11T22:33:00.003-04:00

SOURCE CODE

directed by Duncan Jones
starring Jake Gyllenhaal, Michelle Monaghan, Vera Farmiga, Jeffrey Wright

THE ADJUSTMENT BUREAU

directed by George Nolfi
starring Matt Damon, Emily Blunt, Anthony Mackie, John Slattery (I almost wrote "Roger Sterling"), Terence Stamp

What is real? How do we know it's real? Is everything we see, hear, feel, and remember no more than an elaborate illusion? Are we merely puppets of a superior being—god, alien, or machine—or are we free to forge our own destiny?

These questions have been knocking around in our collective consciousness since time out of mind, but they tend to have more visceral power in the form of science fiction novels and movies. Certainly the profoundly unsettling idea that one’s entire existence is a lie, constructed and controlled by unknown forces, has driven dystopian classics from “Blade Runner” to “The Matrix.” The last couple of years have seen a new resurgence of films that tackle this premise—“Moon,” “Inception,” and most recently, “The Adjustment Bureau” and “Source Code.” These last two stand out in that they dial back the dystopic elements and punch up the romantic ones—in particular, the age-old fantasy that love conquers all. Both movies celebrate, with strikingly less ambivalence than some of their predecessors, the human will to defy, in the name of love, those mysterious, implacable, seemingly omnipotent forces that have something else in mind for you.

“The Adjustment Bureau” is the simpler of the two films, a quality that works both to its advantage and to its disadvantage. Loosely based on a Philip K. Dick short story, it follows the star-crossed paths of two very different individuals—rising political star David Norris (Matt Damon), a charismatic Congressman with his eye on a Senate seat, and free-spirited contemporary dancer Elise (Emily Blunt)—who meet by improbable accident and immediately fall hard for each other. Fate, however, conspires to keep them apart: fate, or the Adjustment Bureau, a mysterious task force of gray-suited, bowler-hatted men with the ability to manipulate time, space, and events to ensure that everything in the world happens according to a predetermined capital-P Plan. But even the Adjustment Bureau makes mistakes occasionally, which is how David stumbles upon its existence one day and makes the unnerving discovery that the Bureau apparently runs the world; his world; his life. He also discovers that Bureau has no intention of ever letting him be together with Elise, because it’s not part of the Plan, and because it’s for their own good, and the good of the world!

Like any self-respecting romantic hero, David reacts by, in essence, saying fuck the world and doing everything in his power to reconnect with his true love and stay one step ahead of the Bureau. The bowler hats, led first by a coolly insouciant fellow named Richardson (John Slattery, dapper-looking as always) and, later, the higher-ranking and correspondingly more ruthless Thompson (Terence Stamp), continue to frustrate David’s efforts—but never enough to keep him down, or away from Elise, for long. Aided by a more sympathetic Bureau man, Harry (Anthony Mackie), whose quietly soulful, slightly melancholy demeanor is just intriguing enough to keep him this side of “magical Negro” territory, David and Elise ultimately find themselves confronting the very deepest mystery of all: what (or who) is the Bureau, and what control does it really have over us mere mortals?

That answer, for some viewers, may be a bit of a letdown, or at best a bunt, and certainly incomplete. For others it may call to mind Milton’s problems in Paradise Lost. Not that “The Adjustment Bureau”’s goals are so lofty, though it does gesture towards one of Christianity’s central tensions—that between human will and the presumably benevolent, omnipotent will of God. That it doesn’t really attempt to resolve the million dollar question betrays not so much intellectual failure as the fact that it’s fundamentally much more of a romance than it is a philosophical excursion. (I doubt very much this was Philip K. Dick’s intention, but Hollywood has a long tradition of using Dick’s stories as little more than a jumping-off point for more conventional entertainment.) As such, the film would have been more effective, I think, if it had done more to develop the rather thin characters of David and Elise, particularly the latter. But then I tend to be deeply skeptical of “love at first sight” scenarios, even when they involve people as attractive as Damon and Blunt.

“Source Code” doesn’t do much better than “The Adjustment Bureau” in its treatment of the love interest (here played by the equally attractive Michelle Monaghan), whom we barely get to know at all. Nevertheless, it ends up being far the more compelling of the two films, probably because for most of its duration it’s focused with laser-like intensity not on the romance but on the disorientation of its male protagonist, Colter Stevens (Jake Gyllenhaal), an Army helicopter pilot who wakes up one day to find himself in the body of another man on a commuter train to Chicago, mere minutes before it’s blown up by a bomb. After the explosion, Colter “wakes up” again in what appears to be his own body, trapped in a dark, creaky, pod-like space, with a video screen as his only link to the outside world. In due course a female officer named Goodwin (Vera Farmiga) appears on the screen and explains that by some scientific mumbo-jumbo, Colter’s consciousness was transplanted into that of one of the victims, just eight minutes before the explosion, and that he will be sent back there, as many times as it takes, until he figures out who set off the bomb. All this puzzles Colter mightily, as he has no recollection of ever consenting to such an assignment, and his last memory is of being in combat in Afghanistan. Goodwin refuses to answer most of his frantic questions and eventually persuades him to embrace his new mission. On each return to the doomed train, Colter both notices and does something different, and even though he’s repeatedly told that he can’t change what’s already happened, he becomes convinced that he can—no doubt at least partly influenced by the blue eyes of the pretty girl sitting across from him.

Crisply directed by Duncan Jones (son of David Bowie and director of the superior though tonally very different “Moon”), “Source Code” has been described as a cross between the early ’90s TV series “Quantum Leap,” and the movie “Groundhog Day.” That may be (I’m embarrassed to admit I’ve never seen either), and it’s surely no coincidence that Scott Bakula, the star of “Quantum Leap,” has a voice cameo here as Colter’s father. But however recycled the movie’s elements and improbable its premise, the combination feels bracingly fresh and original—the immediate urgency of each eight-minute span deftly interpolated with the unfolding mystery of how Colter came to be in his current situation, and nicely leavened by humorous touches involving a cast of morning commuters in all shades of bored, shifty, obnoxious, and (in Monaghan’s case) inexplicably perky. Alas, the already precarious logic of the plot goes completely off the rails (sorry, couldn’t resist) at the end with an unnecessary final twist that isn’t worth trying to puzzle out. Still, the narrative preposterousness doesn’t take away from the impact of the revelation of where Colter really is or the unexpected poignancy of the relationship he builds with Goodwin, whose cool composure gives way just enough to offer hints at the truth. Both Gyllenhaal and Farmiga are excellent in roles that could easily have been flattened out by lesser actors. Rather less effective is the underutilized Jeffrey Wright as Dr. Rutledge, the scientific mind behind the project, who’s mostly seen shuffling distractedly behind Goodwin, only occasionally coming forward to engage directly with Colter. He’s supposed to be a shadowy, somewhat sinister figure, but instead comes across as faintly absurd, and as such ends up embodying the film’s weaknesses. Luckily, the weaknesses are largely outweighed by its strengths, making “Source Code” one of the more enjoyable head trips to hit movie theaters this year.

GRADES: "The Adjustment Bureau," B; "Source Code," B+

Also saw:

JANE EYRE

directed by Cary Fukunaga
starring Mia Wasikowska, Michael Fassbender, Judi Dench, Jamie Bell

There’s something missing in Cary Fukanaga’s new adaptation of that war horse of British literature, Jane Eyre, though it’s hard to pinpoint exactly what. The film is beautifully shot, sensitively acted, and appropriately but not slavishly respectful of its source material. It captures the desolate beauty of the natural setting, the shifts in terrain mirroring the novel’s psychological landscapes, and handles the Gothic elements with a delicate touch—perhaps a tad too delicate. Jane Eyre, after all, is melodrama at its finest: all its subtlety is in the layering of the characters, not the plot, which spans a childhood marked by horrific abuse and privation, a forbidden romance between a poor governess and a wealthy man with a dark secret, haphazard wanderings that lead to highly improbable reunions and unexpected inheritances, spookily prescient dreams and telepathic communications, destructive conflagrations, blindings, maimings, and violent insanity. It’s amazing that for all its faithfulness to the text (apart from some judicious excisions), the film ends up being as quiet as it is.

Ironically, though, it’s the portrayal of the characters that feels most in need of a little more melodramatic flair. That may seem an odd criticism to make with regard to Jane (Mia Wasikowska), who’s supposed to be a plain, inconspicuous little thing, watchful and still, an old soul in a young girl’s body. But appearances, as the novel teaches, are misleading, and Jane’s calm demeanor conceals a remarkably complex and passionate nature: a woman of great intelligence, strong will, and rigid moral integrity, but possessing a volcanic inner fire that only time and adverse circumstances have taught her to control. In short, she’s an extraordinary character, and requires an extraordinary actress to play her. Wasikowska, an undeniably talented performer (she was wonderful in the HBO series “In Treatment,” and quite good in “The Kids Are All Right”), doesn’t quite pull it off. She exudes the necessary gravity and lucidity, but not Jane’s passion or her fierce hunger for love. And though Michael “sex on a stick” Fassbender does his best as Jane’s soulmate, the troubled Mr. Rochester, he’s only able to strike fleeting sparks against the cool flint of Wasikowksa’s gaze. Even in what should be the most charged scenes, one feels too little of the physical electricity and, later, the deep anguish that animate so much of the Jane-Rochester relationship. (In the electricity department, the 2006 BBC miniseries adaptation starring Ruth Wilson and Toby Stephens, which is still my favorite—though perhaps unfair to compare to a two-hour movie—is far superior.) Their whole affair ends up feeling rather mannerly, and their final meeting oddly muted and anticlimactic. I hesitate to say this, but this “Jane Eyre” could have used a touch of Orson Welles.

GRADE: B

HANNA

directed by Joe Wright
starring Saoirse Ronan, Eric Bana, Cate Blanchett, Olivia Williams, Tom Hollander

I’ll admit that the concept of a movie about an icy-eyed, scarily efficient child assassin made me feel slightly queasy. But I’ll also admit to being pleasantly surprised by the actual movie. A 90-minute shot of cinematic adrenaline, “Hanna” proves a riveting, if shallow, piece of entertainment that skates lightly over its more disturbing moral implications and the thin patches of its plot. The latter turns on the unleashing of its heroine (a well-cast Saoirse Ronan), who’s been raised in utter isolation and single-mindedly trained by her father, Erik (Eric Bana), to be a ruthless killing machine. Her target: an equally ruthless CIA agent named Marissa (Cate Blanchett), who murdered Hanna’s mother and, Hanna’s father explains in no uncertain terms, will do everything in her power to murder Hanna as well. And so she does, the result being a globetrotting chase in which the cat and mouse roles continually shift back and forth between Hanna, Marissa, Erik, and various goons dispatched by Marissa to hunt down Hanna.

"Hanna" may be somewhat of a departure from director Joe Wright's previous work ("Atonement," "Pride and Prejudice"), but shows his trademark fluid camerawork accelerated into overdrive. The film has something of the feel of “Run Lola Run” and the Bourne movies, threaded through with a Grimms Brothers-esque fairy tale motif that’s laid on a bit thick—especially towards the end—but adds a touch of whimsy (albeit a melancholy one) that tempers the essential bleakness of Hanna’s story. Saoirse Ronan is terrific as Hanna, conveying both the otherworldly, almost unearthly strangeness that sets her apart from everyone she encounters in her entry into modern civilization, and the animal ferocity that can descend on unsuspecting victims at any moment; she’s like a cross between a wildcat and an avenging angel. At the same time, she’s not entirely divested of more recognizable impulses and emotions, and it’s that balance between the human and inhuman that makes her an unexpectedly compelling protagonist. Next to her, the adult actors pall by comparison, though Tom Hollander is amusingly creepy as the lead goon in Marissa’s employ, while Bana earns some sympathy points as Hanna’s guilt-ridden, ass-kicking dad. (He also has a delightfully memorable and utterly gratuitous scene in which he’s basically naked, which should please all Banamaniacs.) Still, this is Hanna’s show, and Hanna, appropriately, makes it worth watching.

GRADE: B+

*****

During her lifetime, I never understood the appeal of Elizabeth Taylor. It's not that I only saw her late in life, when she became almost a caricature of herself. No, I saw her at quite an early age in the film "Giant," when she was at the height of her beauty, and I knew from my parents that she was commonly considered the most beautiful actress of her time, if not all time. Not a flaw in her face, my mom used to say. I disagreed. I saw plenty of flaws, and I didn't really see the allure. To me she was pretty but common, not distinctive, and lacking in elegance. She was no Ava, or Grace, or Audrey, or even Marilyn. And I was undoubtedly prejudiced by that well-known story about her stealing her friend's husband; never mind that Debbie Reynolds proved more generous than I (and probably 99% of women) ever could be.

And yet, ever since she passed, I can't stop reading tributes about her and poring over the accompanying photos. True, a large part of this obsessiveness is my attempt to understand the fascination she exercised over others. But isn't that a kind of fascination in itself? If nothing else, it's an acknowledgment that at some level, she "mattered."

She was the personification of glamour, a woman of large and unashamed appetites, a homewrecker, a collector of husbands, and a humanitarian who carried the banner against AIDS long before it became fashionable to do so. She was a fiercely loyal friend who saved the life of one (Montgomery Clift) and championed the innocence of another (Michael Jackson) in the face of withering ridicule. She was one of the last reigning goddesses of old Hollywood, though in some sense she left that title behind her long ago: "La Liz," celebrity, always seemed to me like a separate being from Elizabeth Taylor, screen star. She'll be remembered, however, for both, and deservedly so.

Oscars 2011: Nothing to see, folks

2011-02-28T21:02:00.003-05:00

A friend of mine described this year's Oscars thus: "pretty much a misfire on all levels: host(s), movies awarded, speeches given, red carpet. A quadrifecta (pretty sure not a word but I don’t care) of suck."

(The word he's looking for is actually superfecta, but his works just as well.)

My verdict isn't quite as harsh, but I have to agree that it was a disappointing ceremony and, for the most part, an awfully dull one. I blame the flatness on the writing more than the hosts - except that only one of the hosts really showed up. Props to Anne Hathaway, whom I love more than ever, for her goofball charm and for valiantly resisting the deadly pull of the black hole by her side. Franco - and you know I love him - looked as tuned out as most of his audience probably felt. Some have speculated that he was stoned for the whole thing, but I think that's just how he looks. (Danny Boyle thought he was stoned when he auditioned for "127 Hours.") If he wasn't, he was probably wishing he was - I'm sure he, as much as anyone, would gladly have passed the baton off to Billy Crystal when the latter made his brief appearance.

LIKED:
-They kept it short! (Comparatively speaking. Just a smidgen over three hours ain't bad for the Oscars.)
-The opening montage with AH & JF inserting themselves into the Best Pic nominated movies. (Billy Crystal did it better, though.)
-The autotuned Best Song parody video. That was pretty damn funny.
-The return of the acting clips. Yay, no more stupid, painfully awkward introductions by the nominees' "peers"! Hated that innovation, so glad it's gone.
-All of Anne Hathaway's outfits; yes, even the space-age sapphire-blue number. She made 'em all work. And girl can SANG - though anyone who watched the year Hugh Jackman (sigh, Hugh) hosted knew that already.
-The dude with the crazy hair who won Best Live Action Short. Pure awesomeness, though I haven't seen his film.

DISLIKED:
-Melissa Leo's dress. (Seriously looked like she was wearing a giant doily.) And her train wreck of an acceptance speech. I did love that she dropped the f-bomb - an Oscars first, apparently. And Christian Bale's little self-mocking reference to it in *his* speech.
-"The King's Speech" winning both Director and Picture. It deserved neither. It *especially* did not deserve Director. At least Tom Hooper gave a nice acceptance speech.
-Roger Deakins ("True Grit") being denied AGAIN for the Cinematography Oscar. What's it take, Academy?
-Randy Newman singing AND winning "Best Song." Can the Academy get rid of that category already, or stop rewarding such insipid pap?
-The children's choir at the end: call me a Scrooge, but wtf do they have to do with movies or Oscars?

MOST MEMORABLE DRESS: Cate Blanchett's. It was a fright, and you know we'll all remember it long after we've forgotten what everyone else wore. Almost approached Björk swan territory.

MOST PLEASANT SURPRISE: This is obscure, but I was delighted to see "The Lost Thing" win Best Animated Short; I saw all the animated short nominees this year, and that was my favorite. Also happy to see "The Social Network" win Best Score over "The King's Speech."

LEAST PLEASANT NON-SURPRISE: Annette Bening losing the Oscar AGAIN. She's now O for 4 nominations at age 52. Well, she's in excellent company. She and Roger Deakins should go on a bender with Peter O'Toole.

AWKWARD BUT KIND OF AWESOME: Kirk Douglas hogging the stage and flirting with both Melissa Leo and Anne Hathaway. Stroke? What stroke?

JUST AWKWARD: Christian Bale appearing to forget his wife's name in his acceptance speech. Maybe he was just too choked up to say it; however, the majority of the people in my living room voted memory lapse. And was it mere coincidence that just about every married male winner (and one female) after that made a point of naming and thanking their wives?

BOTTOM LINE: I miss Hugh Jackman.

Oscars Predictions

2011-02-22T00:18:00.019-05:00

If conventional wisdom proves correct, this will be the year Harvey Weinstein gets up on stage at the end of Oscars night and tells the world, "All of you who thought I was over, done, finito...can suck on DEEZ NUTS." Ok, he probably won't say that. But he'll certainly be thinking it. After a decade of languishing in an Oscar-less, hit-deprived wilderness, his Miramax glory days of the '90s far behind him, the producer Hollywood most loves to hate started to recover his mojo last year with the unexpected success of "Inglourious Basterds" and "The Reader." And now the Harvster is officially back with a vengeance, doing what he does best - convincing the Academy to vote a polished, charming trifle of a film Best Picture of the year. Only this time the film is "The King's Speech" rather than "Shakespeare in Love."

(Note: I'm quite fond of "Shakespeare in Love" and personally enjoyed it much more than "Saving Private Ryan," the movie it defeated for Best Picture. So I don't share the outrage of many regarding that particular Oscar surprise. But it's pretty much a truth universally acknowledged that SIL won that year thanks largely to the aggressive campaigning tactics of the Weinstein bros - especially Harvey.)

The big story of this Oscars season was a sharp shift in momentum from "The Social Network," which dominated the critics' awards and won the Golden Globe for best drama, to "The King's Speech," which cleaned up most of the guild awards, commonly perceived to be a more accurate pulse-reader of the "industry" (i.e., Oscar voters) than the encomiums of a bunch of critics, journalists, and wannabe journalists. The latter are already bemoaning TKS's impending triumph as the latest in a long line of Oscar follies, and yet another example of the older, stodgier, more conservative wing of the Academy favoring the sentimental over the cerebral, the past over the present, the square and old-fashioned over the hip, edgy, and socially relevant. I can't say I'm quite as exercised as some of these folks, partly because I'm not convinced "The Social Network" is as groundbreaking as they say, or will even necessarily stand the test of time better than "The King's Speech." That said, in my opinion "The King's Speech" is certainly inferior to "The Social Network," and indeed to every other film that was nominated for Best Picture. So it goes in Oscarworld.

Anyway, here are my predictions for the major awards - subject, as always, to last-minute change.

BEST PICTURE

NOMINEES: The King's Speech, The Social Network, True Grit, The Fighter, Black Swan, 127 Hours, Inception, Winter's Bone, The Kids Are All Right, Toy Story 3

WILL WIN: The King's Speech

MY FAVORITE: The Fighter

BEST DIRECTOR

NOMINEES: Tom Hooper, The King's Speech; David Fincher, The Social Network; Coen brothers, True Grit; David O. Russell, The Fighter; Darren Aronofsky, Black Swan

WILL WIN: Fincher. This one's trickier, but I think we'll see a Picture/Director split. Hollywood rates Fincher as a cinematic genius, or near-genius, whereas Hooper's background, prior to The King's Speech, was mainly in television (admittedly high-quality, high-prestige television, e.g., the "John Adams" miniseries starring Paul Giamatti and Laura Linney). There's probably a perception that he hasn't fully earned his stripes yet.

MY FAVORITE: Close call between David O. Russell (The Fighter) and Darren Aronofsky (Black Swan). Both took what could easily, in other hands, have become shopworn genre flicks and shaped them into eminently watchable, indeed, riveting films.

BEST ACTOR

NOMINEES: Colin Firth, The King's Speech; Jesse Eisenberg, The Social Network; Jeff Bridges, True Grit; James Franco, 127 Hours; Javier Bardem, Biutiful

WILL WIN: Firth, in a cakewalk.

MY FAVORITE: All are deserving (though I prefer Firth, Eisenberg, and Bridges to the other two), but I want Firth to win - partly, I admit, because I think he really should have won last year for A Single Man.

BEST ACTRESS

NOMINEES: Natalie Portman, Black Swan; Annette Bening, The Kids Are All Right; Jennifer Lawrence, Winter's Bone; Michelle Williams, Blue Valentine; Nicole Kidman, Rabbit Hole

WILL WIN: Portman, though Bening has an outside shot

MY FAVORITE: With the caveat that I haven't seen Kidman in Rabbit Hole, my vote is for Bening. While Portman's is certainly the *showiest* performance, I maintain Bening's is the most nuanced. For example, just watch the whole sequence when Mark Ruffalo's character hosts dinner for her and the other characters. Over the course of the evening she starts to warm to him, only to make a terrible discovery that causes her expression, her whole demeanor, to change completely, and completely silently. No hysterics, no shouting, no gesturing. It's all in her face, and something in the quality of her voice. It's remarkable. She's brilliant. And yes, she's overdue for an Oscar.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR

NOMINEES: Christian Bale, The Fighter; Geoffrey Rush, The King's Speech; John Hawkes, Winter's Bone; Mark Ruffalo, The Kids Are All Right; Jeremy Renner, The Town

WILL WIN: Bale

MY FAVORITE: Bale, though I was also quite impressed by Hawkes.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS

NOMINEES: Melissa Leo, The Fighter; Amy Adams, The Fighter; Hailie Steinfeld, True Grit; Helena Bonham-Carter, The King's Speech; Jacki Weaver, Animal Kingdom

This has turned into the most interesting race among the majors, ever since frontrunner Leo made an ill-advised decision to publish her own "for your consideration" ads encouraging Oscars voters to choose her. A bit tacky, but did it actually turn voters against her - or at least enough of them to make a difference? Hard to say without knowing the margin of her lead. There was always the danger she would split votes with co-star Adams; meanwhile, Steinfeld's stock has been rising rapidly as of late, and Supporting Actress is a category where Oscars voters sometimes like to spring surprises and embrace brand-new, shiny Young Things. Never mind that Steinfeld's character is really a lead and not a supporting role.

WILL WIN: Tough call, but I'm sticking with Leo - for now.

MY FAVORITE: Adams. Leo's excellent, don't get me wrong, but like The Fighter overall, Adams impressed me with her ability to take a cliche (here, the role of the tough but supportive love interest) and make it emotionally effective.

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY

NOMINEES: The King's Speech, Inception, The Kids Are All Right, The Fighter, Another Year

WILL WIN: The King's Speech

MY FAVORITE: I haven't seen Another Year, but among the others, I think The Fighter did the best job at crafting a compelling story - though it was obviously assisted enormously by first-rate acting across the board.

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY

NOMINEES: The Social Network, True Grit, Winter's Bone, 127 Hours, Toy Story 3

WILL WIN: The Social Network

MY FAVORITE: True Grit

Top Ten of 2010

2011-01-11T21:21:00.012-05:00

Putting my curmudgeon's hat on for just a moment...

If there's one word critics generally admit they have no business using when assessing a film (or any other work or performance), it's "overrated." In theory, this seems right: how a work is received by others has nothing to do with its intrinsic merit, and should not affect an individual's evaluation of that merit. As a measure of quality, "overrated" and its corollary, "underrated," are meaningless.

But I call BS. The fact is that cultural criticism is inherently subjective, not objective, and unless you see a movie in a complete vacuum, your reaction to it is inevitably going to be influenced by the preconceptions and expectations you bring to it. And with a turbo-charged, Internet-driven media constantly flooding our consciousness (and subconsciousness) with advance information, breathless hype, and that indefinable, fickle creature known as "buzz," it's a miracle that moviegoers haven't become entirely jaded by now.

But maybe that's just me, and maybe I just read too much about movies before I see them. All I know is that with each passing year, there seem to be more and more that I look forward to with intense anticipation, only to be let down, to varying degrees, once I actually see them. Examples this year: INCEPTION; THE KIDS ARE ALL RIGHT; THE SOCIAL NETWORK; THE KING'S SPEECH. All of these films had merit; but I could not share even a fraction of the overwhelming enthusiasm they seemed to inspire in others. And this has made it difficult for me to distinguish how much of my critical response was truly based on my own standards and how much was me falling victim to my own expectations, fanned into a frenzy by the insidiously powerful Buzz Machine.

It's worth noting that there were several films that the Buzz Machine touted full blast that I still ended up enjoying very much, without a shade of disappointment, such as THE FIGHTER, BLACK SWAN, and TRUE GRIT. And I still liked THE SOCIAL NETWORK enough to put it in my top ten. However, some of the films that actually stayed with me the longest were smaller pictures that all but slipped under the critical radar. These are the ones I'm proudest to include in my top ten - and I'm not just being contrarian.

1. CAIRO TIME

This little gem went largely unnoticed, though it did get some attention for Patricia Clarkson's beautifully nuanced lead performance as a Western woman adrift in present-day Cairo. Her co-star, Alexander Siddig, was even better, and the delicate direction of Ruba Nadda elevated what could have been extremely trite East-meets-west material into a subtle and poignant romance.

2. THE FIGHTER

Yes, this based-on-a-true-story boxing picture owes a huge debt to ROCKY, and no, it doesn't really break any new ground. Doesn't matter. It's so dynamic and so well acted across the board (Christian Bale and, surprisingly, Amy Adams the standouts) that it kept me riveted from start to finish.

3. BLACK SWAN

Over-the-top? Yes. Ridiculous? Yes. Original? Not particularly. But you still can't take your eyes off it. This is the kind of balls-out, teetering-on-the-edge filmmaking only Darren Aronofsky can give us, and his nightmare vision of the artist driven to madness still haunts me.

4. BLUE VALENTINE

Just saw it last weekend. For such a downer of a film, it's also remarkably tender, funny, and engaging. It finds beauty in pathos, in what could have been a merely sad, scruffy, even sordid tale of a doomed marriage. Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams will wring your heart as the couple that proves that love, alone, isn't enough.

5. TRUE GRIT

A Coen brothers movie with a heart! Rare and valuable for that alone. But still with plenty of their merciless, bone-dry wit, and excellent turns by Jeff Bridges and Matt Damon. Especially Bridges, who refuses to let the ghost of John Wayne intimidate him. The Dude abides.

6. THE SOCIAL NETWORK

Ok, ok, it was good. It deserves to be here. My criticisms still stand. Can we move on now?

7. SOMEWHERE

I'm not sure Sofia Coppola's really progressed that much as a filmmaker, but even if she hasn't, I continue to enjoy what she does. Few can capture as deftly as she does those wordless moments of tenderness or tension that relieve the anomie of everyday existence.

8. AGORA

Not a perfect film by a long shot, but something about it has stuck with me these many months. It has a clarity of vision and purpose, and a profound respect for reason and intellect, that you rarely see in films today, even the good ones.

9. NEVER LET ME GO

A very good, sensitive rendition of a book that had to have been incredibly challenging to adapt to film. Critics were largely dismissive, perhaps because it took few risks stylistically, but I think it deserved better. Dare I say it was underrated?

10. HOWL

Again, flawed, yet there's something charming, almost quaint (in a good way) about its half-pictorial, half-documentary-style presentation of a cultural "moment" and the man behind it. I did not expect it to show up in my top ten, but it stayed with me, and here it is.

Just missed: TOY STORY 3; 127 HOURS

Honorable mentions: INSIDE JOB; ANIMAL KINGDOM; GHOST WRITER

Caveat - have not seen: WINTER'S BONE, EXIT THROUGH THE GIFT SHOP, MOTHER, CARLOS, ANOTHER YEAR, and THE ILLUSIONIST, to name just a few.

December Movie Roundup; R.I.P. Pete Postlethwaite

2011-01-03T21:50:00.009-05:00

Happy new year!

The holiday movie rush has vanquished me; I cry your mercy. I won't be able to write full reviews of the films I saw in the last days of 2010, but because they are (mostly) quite good, I did want to offer at least some brief thoughts here. I also want to acknowledge the passing of Pete Postlethwaite, who was not only a great actor but also blessed with one of the most fascinatingly un-beautiful faces ever to appear on the movie screen. I remember after seeing him recently in "Inception" and "The Town" wondering if, after his ubiquity in the '90s and relatively dormant '00s, his career was on the rise again. Turns out he was fighting cancer that whole time I thought he'd disappeared, and sadly, a resurgence was not in the cards. A great loss; he was only 64.

His most memorable role was probably Daniel Day-Lewis' long-suffering dad in "In the Name of the Father," but moviegoers may also remember him as Kobayashi in "The Usual Suspects" and Father Laurence in Baz Luhrmann's "Romeo & Juliet." Or any number of other films. You never forgot that face; you just couldn't. Luckily, his talent was such that it wasn't only his face you remembered.

And now, the movies that rounded out my year:

TRON: LEGACY

directed by Joseph Kosinski
starring Jeff Bridges, Garrett Hedlund, Olivia Wilde, Michael Sheen, with a brief appearance by Bruce Boxleitner and an even briefer one by Cillian Murphy (uncredited)

I haven't seen the original TRON, so I can't weigh in on whether "Legacy" lives up to, well, its legacy. What I can say is that despite some nifty visual effects, the zen presence of Jeff Bridges, and an arresting soundtrack by Daft Punk, the new TRON doesn't add up to much. It begins promisingly enough, with Sam Flynn (a bland but likable Garrett Hedlund), son and heir to Bridges' Kevin Flynn (hero of the first TRON, who in the interim between movies became a software mogul and then mysteriously disappeared), following his father’s footsteps – literally – into a computer program. That’s when the 3-D kicks in, and for a while the spectacle of Sam playing video-game gladiator for his life, doing his dad proud in the races known as "light cycles" (considerably souped up for the 2011 version), and coming face-to-face with his dad’s best bits of programming (who look like models plucked from a space-age rave), as well the old man himself, is reasonably entertaining in a brainless, pure-sensory kind of way. But the lack of emotional investment eventually takes its toll, and at about the two-thirds mark, the movie really starts to flag. By the time Kevin Flynn’s digital alter ego, Clu (a CGI-tweaked younger version of Bridges), rallies his forces for a war against their Maker, I was just waiting for the whole thing to be over.

GRADE: C+/B-

TRUE GRIT

directed by les Coens
starring Jeff Bridges, Matt Damon, Hailie Steinfeld, Josh Brolin, Barry Pepper
based on the novel by Charles Portis

A Coen brothers film with a heart – ye gods, is it possible? Sure, given the right source material: in this case, a Western about an iron-willed 14-year-old girl, Mattie Ross (Hailie Steinfeld), who hires U.S. marshal "Rooster" Cogburn (Jeff Bridges) to hunt down the no-account low-life (Josh Brolin) who killed her father, and insists on coming along to see the job done. Joined by a Texas ranger named Laboeuf (Matt Damon) who’s after the same man, they journey deep into Indian country — stark expanses of wintry brush, woods, hills, and canyons, captured in all their severe beauty by the Coens' go-to DP, Roger Deakins — in pursuit of their quarry, and gradually develop a grudging respect and affection for one another along the way.

Based on a novel by Charles Portis and previously adapted into a 1969 film starring John Wayne, "True Grit" is at once old-fashioned and appealingly odd. The Coens keep both qualities in balance by preserving with loving care the distinctive, drolly formal, almost archaic narrative voice of the book and punctuating it with their own equally distinctive, wryly ironic emphasis. It's a good match, and the actors fall nicely in line with the film's half-earnest, half-comic, all-deadpan tone. Bridges, who has the biggest shoes to fill (Wayne won an Oscar for his performance as Rooster), meets the challenge with aplomb and makes the role wholly his own: his unkempt, perpetually and brazenly drunk Rooster is a hoot, but also, at the right moments, poignant. Damon is even funnier as the vain but game Laboeuf, while newcomer Steinfeld makes a remarkably assured screen debut as a heroine who's not so much plucky or precocious as an old soul with the tenacity of a bulldog. It’s the shifting dynamics of this trio that keep us engaged even as the story moves inevitably towards a tried-and-true archetypal Western standoff and surprisingly sentimental climax (tempered by a more somber coda). All three protagonists reveal a core of "true grit," and together they simultaneously draw on our sympathies and hold us at arm’s length. One senses that Mattie wouldn't have had it any other way.

GRADE: B+/A-

SOMEWHERE

directed by Sofia Coppola
starring Stephen Dorff, Elle Fanning

Let's be blunt: Sofia Coppola isn't to everyone's taste, nor does she try to be. She occupies a peculiarly rarefied sphere - the Hollywood elite, second generation no less - and she films what she knows: life in a vacuum, bubble, fish tank, insert your enclosed/hermetic space of choice here. Moreover, she films it as a series of moments and impressions rather than a narrative that builds towards climax and resolution. Not a recipe for popular success, to say the least; yet few directors today have her gift for evoking mood, atmosphere, and feeling with so little action and so few words.

"Somewhere," which follows a few days in the life of an A-list movie star, Johnny Marco (Stephen Dorff), continues the trend. Most of the movie takes place in or around the privileged environs of the Chateau Marmont, a swank L.A. hotel, with a brief, even glitzier interval in Milan. And most of it, seen through Johnny's eyes, is just one long stretch of ennui, hardly interrupted by his duties (such as they are) or even his pleasures. The shining exception is the time he spends with his young daughter, Cleo (Elle Fanning), who drops by for an unexpected but not at all unwelcome visit of indeterminate length. Their easy, unforced chemistry quickly makes clear that that time is precious to them both, whether they're playing Guitar Hero, ordering late night ice cream from room service, or just frolicking in a swimming pool. It's not, however, enough to fill the void in Johnny's life; only to sharpen, if momentarily, his vague awareness of the void.

That may make the film sound grimmer than it is, when its touch is for the most part very light, and there are plenty of comical moments that both relieve and underscore how trapped Johnny is in his aimless, rootless existence. "Somewhere" isn't tonally perfect; as in "Lost in Translation," Coppola indulges in a brand of look-how-silly-and-strange-these-foreigners-are humor that can't entirely be excused as simply illustrating how alienated her protagonists are. In general, I find her films less effective when she's being satirical than when she's in earnest, probably because the targets of her satire are just too easy. And even her earnest moments in "Somewhere" falter the more she tries to verbalize them; towards the end of the movie, there's a scene in which Johnny gives voice to his despair that both falls flat and feels too pat. That's not to knock Dorff's performance, which is quite good, even if he looks a bit too small and scruffy to be a convincing A-lister. The real star here, however, is Fanning, who's luminous without being impossibly angelic. It's no coincidence that Dorff, and the film overall, is best when he's with her.

GRADE: B+

Added January 2011:

BLUE VALENTINE

directed by Derek Cianfrance
starring Ryan Gosling, Michelle Williams

I went into "Blue Valentine" expecting to come out feeling beaten down and deeply despondent. Instead, I came out feeling moved and deeply impressed. Make no mistake, "Blue Valentine" is not an uplifting story: it's about the collapse of a relationship between two people, Dean and Cindy (Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams, both fabulous and totally Oscarworthy), who were once very much in love. But because of the way writer-director Derek Cianfrance structures the film - each scene in the present, harsher reality, when Dean and Cindy's marriage is on the rocks, is immediately followed by a scene from six years earlier, when they first met - it feels like only half of a sad movie. The other half is a love story, full of hope, tenderness, and charm. It's that charm that took me by surprise; the pleasure of watching the younger Dean, a free spirit and dyed-in-the-wool romantic, woo and win the more guarded Cindy remains oddly untarnished by what we know lies in the future for them. If anything, the pleasure and pain sharpen each other by their juxtaposition. That juxtaposition, on a scene-by-scene basis, can sometimes feel a little too on the nose; but it also introduces a different and arguably more interesting perspective on the (d)evolution of their relationship than a more linear narrative would have done. We see what drew the two together, and at the same time we're primed to see the seeds of what will eventually drive them apart. I can't overemphasize how crucial Gosling and Williams are to making this device work, and how terrific they both are. They'll make your heart bleed, and I mean that in a good way.

GRADE: B+/A-

"The Fighter" v. "The King's Speech": TKO

2010-12-20T21:27:00.005-05:00

At first glance, “The King’s Speech” and “The Fighter” seem to have little in common other than their rising Oscar buzz. One is about a British king who must overcome a bad stammer, and the crippling fear of public speaking it’s produced, to rally his country as it enters WWII; the other centers on a hardscrabble boxer from Lowell, MA, who needs to assert independence from his controlling, destructively dysfunctional family to have a chance at reviving his sputtering career. Milieu, tone, and subject matter couldn’t be more different.

Yet there are some basic similarities between the two films that, not surprisingly, are also closely linked to their Oscar prospects. Both are based on true stories with triumphant, upbeat endings. Neither takes any narrative or stylistic liberties or subverts any expectations; what you see is pretty much what you get. And for both, the chief strength is the outstanding acting, with one performance in particular generating the most heat in each film, even though each at its heart is about a relationship between two men.

So why, then, does one movie succeed where the other fails? Or put another way, since this is essentially a subjective inquiry, why did “The Fighter” genuinely move me while “The King’s Speech” left me cold?

That’s something I’m still figuring out. I think it’s got something to do with the direction and/or pacing—“The Fighter” is so fluid and kinetic, it sucks you right in, even though you know exactly where it’s going, whereas TKS more or less plods from one scene to the next, such that every scene feels like a set piece. I might also be responding differently to the dynamic among the actors – again, a question of fluidity: “The Fighter” cast feels more like a true ensemble, whereas TKS is really Colin Firth’s star turn, set off by carefully-measured interactions with supporting players. Nothing wrong with that, exactly; “The Fighter” just feels more organic. And whether it’s the writing or the acting or both, I found the relationships in “The Fighter” more compellingly drawn than in TKS. Maybe, at bottom, I just can’t be brought to care that much about the House of Windsor.

I will ponder this further; in the meantime, here are my initial grades:

THE KING’S SPEECH

directed by Tom Hooper
starring Colin Firth, Geoffrey Rush, Helena Bonham-Carter, Guy Pearce, Michael Gambon

GRADE: B (Colin Firth: A; Guy Pearce: A-; rest of cast: B+)

THE FIGHTER

directed by David O. Russell
starring Mark Wahlberg, Christian Bale, Melissa Leo, Amy Adams

GRADE: B+/A-

Full reviews coming soon-ish.

Golden Globes, WTF?

2010-12-14T22:25:00.011-05:00

Seriously, WTF?

The Hollywood Foreign Press Association is known for two things: 1. Its members aren't really members of the press. 2. They throw a hell of a party masquerading as an awards show, a/k/a the Golden Globes, every year.

The HFPA-ers have, however, a third signature trait, well known to movie nerds and awards junkies, though perhaps less so to the general public:

They are total starfuckers. Exhibit A: this year's Golden Globe nominations.

What else would inspire them to nominate a turkey like THE TOURIST for Best Comedy or Musical, when it's neither a comedy (at least, not intentionally so) nor a musical? Or Johnny Depp and Angelina Jolie for Best Actor/Actress in a Comedy? Or what about giving Johnny Depp a second nod for the equally putrid ALICE IN WONDERLAND, which was also neither a comedy nor a musical? And for that matter, what is RED (you know, that Helen Mirren/Morgan Freeman/Bruce Willis flick about un-retiring retired assassins) doing here?

Two words: Red carpet. These guys will bend over backwards to get A-listers like Depp, Jolie, et al. to come to their party. Even if it involves honoring worthless performances in even more worthless movies that don't even fit in the category they've been assigned.

Maybe I'm not giving them enough credit. Maybe they're really demonstrating a slyly meta humor about both the category and the movies they've chosen to fill it. I mean, there is a kind of comedy about it. But...nah. This isn't the first time they've shown an unhealthy infatuation with movie-star glamour. It's just the most egregious - in recent memory, anyway.

Oh well, this just verifies that no one should take the Golden Globes seriously. Contrary to popular belief, they're not all that reliable as Oscars predictors, though they're admittedly something of a bellwether: if nothing else, they reflect what movies and performances are hot at the moment.

They're not the only awards shop in town, of course. It's that time of year again, when all the film critics' associations in the country can enjoy (or imagine) a brief period of relevance, as they hand out their best-of-year prizes. Most of the major ones announced this past week, including the National Board of Review, the New York Film Critics Circle, and the Los Angeles Film Critics Association. And just for good measure, because it is my hometown, I'll throw in the Boston Society of Film Critics.

Ironically, observable trends in the critics' awards are fairly consistent with the Golden Globes. There's been a LOT of love for "The Social Network," while Colin Firth ("The King's Speech"), Natalie Portman ("Black Swan"), and Christian Bale ("The Fighter") continue to move closer to Oscar frontrunner status, and Annette Bening ("The Kids Are All Right") and Jesse Eisenberg ("The Social Network") also look like strong contenders. Meanwhile, "127 Hours"/James Franco seems to be fading. Still, it's too early to tell which movies' buzz will "peak" at the right time. And something could still sneak in under the radar between now and February.

But I guarantee you this: it won't be "The Tourist." Or "Alice in Wonderland."

The Mirror Has Two Faces (maybe more) in "Black Swan"

2010-12-05T22:05:00.010-05:00

BLACK SWAN

directed by Darren Aronofsky
starring Natalie Portman, Vincent Cassel, Mila Kunis, Barbara Hershey, Winona Ryder

“Black Swan” isn’t a horror movie, but it comes close. Artfully close. Indie darling Darren Aronofsky doesn’t tread that line so much as hopscotch it, deploying cheap thrills and shock tactics ostensibly in the service of a more high-minded theme: the destructive effects of an artist’s obsession with perfection. Is the latter just an excuse for him to engage in pulpy excess? Perhaps. But he carries it off with such gleeful panache that it’s a pleasure to watch.

Natalie Portman takes on her Oscar-baitiest role yet as Nina Sayers, a dancer in an unnamed ballet company — clearly meant to evoke the New York City Ballet — that’s getting ready to put on a production of Swan Lake. The company’s director, a slinky Svengali type named Thomas (Vincent Cassel), has his eye on Nina for the lead; he also has doubts she can pull it off. Nina may be a perfect fit for the innocent, virginal White Swan, but can she play the seductively evil Black Swan? Especially with the arrival of a new dancer, Lily (Mila Kunis, very good), who has all the easy sensuality that Nina lacks? That’s the test our heroine faces for the rest of the movie, and in the process of rising to the challenge and unlocking her dark side, she quickly loses her grasp — never very firm — on reality.

I haven’t seen the two films “Black Swan” appears to have borrowed most heavily from, the tormented ballerina flick par excellence, “The Red Shoes,” and Polanski’s “Repulsion.” But it doesn’t take a cinephile to recognize the tropes and images used to convey Nina’s mental dissolution. They aren’t original, and they aren’t subtle; this movie has no interest in being subtle, and as a result occasionally verges on the ludicrous. Still, there’s something admirable, if a bit calculated, about the sheer conviction with which it, like Nina, literally dances towards and (arguably) leaps off the edge. Aronofsky doesn’t merely plant suggestions that much of what we see is the product of Nina’s imagination; he flags it and embellishes her hallucinations so extravagantly that only one of two responses is possible: laugh and detach, or submit and revel in the fantasy. He doubles down on doubling, as virtually very female character in the film is in one way or another a double of Nina: Lily, of course, who functions as both her rival and not-so-obscure object of desire; Nina’s mother (Barbara Hershey), herself a former ballerina, whom Nina still lives with and who both cossets and psychologically smothers her; Beth (Winona Ryder, whom I’d like to have seen more of), the company’s former star and Thomas’ ex-lover, who gets kicked to the curb in favor of younger, fresher meat; and a phantom doppelganger, of whom we see fleeting glimpses in Nina’s reflections and, er, projections. Nina confronts them all in turn, and their encounters inevitably culminate in some intensely graphic scenes that are by turns violent, erotic, creepy, and just plain grotesque.

The whole film plays like a fever dream, an impression enhanced by Aronofsky’s unrelenting use of hand-held digital camera and extreme close-ups of Nina’s face. The latter device may also owe something to the fact that for all her grueling training and preparation for the role, Portman isn’t quite up to snuff technically to be truly convincing as a first-class dancer. Perhaps as a consequence, the choreography seems oddly uninspired, particularly for a ballet as iconic as “Swan Lake.” In many ways, the ballet is the least interesting part of the movie, which is less of a problem than one might think.

Some have charged that “Black Swan” is shallow and exploitative; that the characters border on caricature — not excepting Nina, who comes across as more of a symbol or a construct than a fully dimensional human being. All true; and what of it? The broader truth is that Nina doesn’t have to be a fully believable or even sympathetic human being for the movie to be effective. She just has to live, breathe, and bleed, and she does, with a vengeance. It helps, of course, that Portman does a bang-up job evoking Nina’s mental Molokhov cocktail of ambition, artistic drive, stunted development, and sexual repression. “Black Swan” may not be a great film, but it’s undeniably brilliant in its ability to shock, unnerve, get under your skin, and stay there. Like a horror movie. A really good one.

GRADE: B+/A-

All James Franco All the Time

2010-11-29T21:22:00.004-05:00

So it appears actors James Franco and Anne Hathaway will be hosting the Oscars this spring. To which I say: hoo-ray! Love 'em both, and I think they'll be great. Besides, they'll look just so damned gorgeous together, next thing you know someone will get the bright idea of casting them opposite each other in some awful rom-com...On second thought, maybe they shouldn't co-host after all.

Seriously, though, this is a good choice. There's some chatter on the Internets that picking Franco is a faux pas since he's a near-lock for a Best Actor nomination for "127 Hours." That doesn't trouble me, mainly because I think he'll be nominated but won't win...and I certainly don't think his being a host will improve his chances of winning. If anything, I'd guess the opposite. Then there are those who point out Franco's ubiquity in the media these last couple of years, as if this were a bad thing. True, he's drawn almost as much interest for his offscreen artistic efforts as his onscreen roles, but as an actor, he's only had as much exposure as he deserves. He's that rarest of creatures, a pretty boy with actual range.

You needn't look farther than his two most recent films - "127 Hours" and "Howl" - to see this. In both, he plays a real-life figure who wasn't anywhere near as good-looking as James Franco, yet his prettiness proves to be an asset - a subtle asset - rather than a distraction. He uses it to amplify what was compelling about each of these very different men: Aron Ralston's careless, yet complex, lone-wolf charm; Allen Ginsberg's rather endearing mixture of nervous diffidence and passionate eloquence. I'll have more to say about these performances, and the films they inhabit, when I get some free time that isn't gummed up by a plaguey, energy-sapping cold.

In other news, R.I.P. Irvin Kershner, best known for directing the greatest episode of the original "Star Wars" trilogy, "The Empire Strikes Back" - and in my opinion, one of the greatest films of the twentieth century, yes, I said so - and Leslie Nielsen, best known for his roles in "Airplane!" and the "Naked Gun" movies. They may, perhaps, have wished to be remembered for other aspects of their careers and lives. But there's really nothing, after all, like creating something that achieved iconic status, and for that feat, their names will endure.

November Notes

2010-11-08T20:35:00.002-05:00

Is it November already?

I realize it's been a while since I've posted anything movie-related. That's partly because there haven't been very many movies that I've felt compelled to see in theaters and partly because, per usual, I've fallen behind in my reviews.

I did finally finish my writeup of "The Social Network", which hasn't worn particularly well with me over the last month. Don't get me wrong, I still think it's a good movie; I'm just less and less convinced it's the masterpiece so many were proclaiming it was when it first came out.

Looking ahead, I'm eagerly anticipating the Colin Firth Oscar vehicle "The King's Speech" and Darren Aronofsky's mad-ballerina thriller "Black Swan", both of which should drop some time between Thanksgiving and Christmas. I'm also planning on seeing, among other things, "127 Hours", though I probably won't be able to watch the most talked-about scene (if you don't know why, Google "Aron Ralston"), and "Howl", because one can never get too much of James Franco and because I'm one of the geeks who's actually intrigued at the prospect of Franco recreating the original reading of the entire poem.

Finally, R.I.P. Jill Clayburgh, best known for her performance in "An Unmarried Woman," which I haven't seen, but who built a well-respected career on screen and stage. And a much more belated R.I.P. for the divine soprano Joan Sutherland, whom I'll always associate with her frequent duet partner, Luciano Pavarotti, but who was as a great a star in her own individual right.

"Mad Men" Season 4 Finale: "Tomorrowland"

2010-10-17T23:19:00.007-04:00

In the words of the great Peggy Olson: that's bullshit.

Me during the finale:

"Carla, don't let Glen go upstairs...ARRRGH!"

"Betty, don't get rid of Carla...ARRRGH!"

"Don, don't ask Megan to come to Cali...ARRRGH!"

"Harry, don't be slimy...GROAN."

"Don, don't use Anna's engagement ring to propose...ARRRGH!"

(Less aggravating: "Joan's totally still pregnant...yup.")

It didn't help that every one of these developments and their unintended consequences were clearly telegraphed just far enough in advance to make me squirm in unpleasant anticipation. (Well, except for Joan's aborted abortion, which we've seen coming from several episodes ago, and on which I remain neutral.) This was also the episode that finally, officially made me hate Betty - but it also made me hate Weiner and the MM writers for making me hate her. As for making me hate Don, that's just getting old. *He's* getting old, and pathetic, and more and more of the people who once respected him are seeing this.

Oddly, I don't bear any ill will towards Megan. She seemed genuinely shocked at Don's abrupt proposal, and I can understand his attraction to her as the anti-Betty (and, in a different way, the anti-Faye) - serene, tender, good with kids, yet harboring aspirations outside the domestic sphere. But he's not in love with her, he's in love with his fantasy vision of her and of their future together. Tomorrowland, indeed.

That said, there were some things I liked about the finale, even if I hated its overall trajectory. Among them:

-Peggy and Joan FINALLY bonding. Almost made Don's folly worth it. Almost. Men, watch out for these two.

-Faye cutting straight to the chase when Don calls her, and delivering the most spot-on assessment of his personal life we've heard yet: "you only like the beginnings of things." She's too good for Don, though that doesn't make his treatment of her any less caddish.

-Cosgrove refusing to milk his family connections. As he said, he's not Pete. Interesting, and probably honest, if a bit mean.

-The shot of Don and Betty parting ways in the darkened, empty Ossining house. An unexpectedly poignant and powerful image, especially considering how much I hated both of those two by that point.

Best line, after Peggy's calling BS: Glen to Betty - "Just cause you’re sad all the time doesn’t mean everyone has to be." Roger's response to Don's marriage announcement was pretty priceless, too.

(Pete also had a line about "approaching from the rear" that made the 12-year-old in me snicker. And of course only Pete would tell the others, “You don’t say congratulations to the bride. You say best wishes.”)

Worst line: Don to Peggy, re: Megan - "You know, she reminds me of you." That is *not* something you should say to Peggy, you fool. Twist the knife in a little deeper, why don’t you.

All in all, not the finale I was hoping for, and certainly not a patch on last year's ("Shut the Door, Have a Seat"). But it's sown enough seeds (or bombshells?) to bring me back next year, so I suppose I can't construe it as a total failure. May Peggy and Pete continue to steer SCDP into calmer waters, and may Peggy finally see Don for what he is.

"Mad Men" Ep. 4.12: "Blowing Smoke"

2010-10-11T20:01:00.003-04:00

Blowing smoke, indeed...apt title for this week's episode. Maybe I'm just tired, maybe I'm still disillusioned after some of the recent developments on this show (see last week's recap), but it's not been working its magic on me lately. So the question for me isn't whether Don's daring ploy will save our favorite upstart advertising firm or accelerate its implosion, but whether I still care.

I guess I do. Just not as much as I once did. I have little sympathy left for Don, none at all for Roger, and at the same time full faith that Cooper's anger will abate and that Peggy and Pete will succeed wherever they go. True, I'd be sorry to see Lane unmoored from his American haven and Joan thrown into even greater uncertainty than ever - but not sorry enough to weep if SCDP goes under. As for the others, we evidently haven't seen the last of Faye (at least not yet); Harry and Ken have enough dumb luck between them to find a soft landing; and I couldn't care less what happens to newbies like Stan and Megan. Actually, on second thought I would be quite happy to see Megan go; unfortunately I don't think we've seen the last of her, yet, either.

At any rate, that feeling of bright excitement, that infectious sense of expectation that lit up the founding of SCDP is now diminished, if not completely gone. And it's not just because the firm's teetering on the brink of dissolution. If anything, that should provide a jolt of adrenaline, and to some extent it does for Don. Still, it's telling that his one flash of creative inspiration can be traced directly back to his grim encounter with bohemian-turned-junkie Midge. I haven't quite decided how I feel about that interaction, which shifted quickly from vaguely disquieting to distinctly creepy to just plain sad.

The same might be said of Sally and Glen, though I couldn't muster up much enthusiasm for that storyline, either. I don't know that I blame Betty all that much for her reaction to seeing those two together, even if she was at least partly motivated by the kind of indefinable jealousy that only the good Dr. Edna would understand. I can also understand why Betty might cling to the latter like a life-raft even as she bats away the idea of seeing a "real" therapist of her own. Yet it irks me that her attitude once again plays so easily into the hands of Betty-haters, who are only too ready to see her as an overgrown child. Let's not forget that that was the assessment of Betty's *previous* "therapist," hardly a reliable authority on feminine psychology.

Ah well. There's still one episode left for Weiner & co. to bring back the mojo - and we all know what happened this time last season. Whatever happens, I hope this one, too, goes out with a bang rather than a whimper. There's been enough whimpering.

Best line: Again, can't think of one for this episode, which overall was a downer. But the best moment was the sight of Don smiling at Peggy's approval (her parting line about shenanigans was a nice throwback to the beginning of this season). Runner-up: Pete learning that Don paid his $50,000 share. Finally some real recognition for Pete. It was long overdue.

"Mad Men" Ep. 4.11: "Chinese Wall"

2010-10-04T01:39:00.012-04:00

Oh, show. Just when it seems like you’ve put Don on the path to redemption, you have to (1) throw him into a crisis of catastrophe-level proportions (2) remind us what a selfish SOB he is when push comes to shove.

I’m not talking about the shagging of yet another secretary, disappointing as that was: count me among the naive few who really hoped and believed that the final shot last week of Don gazing at the comely Megan did not mean he was about to sleep with her. I stand corrected. I have to say, though, that I can’t quite figure out Megan’s game. Her seduction of Don seemed very purposeful—but to what purpose? Becoming the next Mrs. Draper? Or (more likely) the next Peggy Olson? Or some other, unknown motive? Whatever it is, please let it be something more interesting than boss-worship because I’ve had enough of women falling at Don’s feet. It's as if the writers are trying to make up for Don's dry spell during the first half of the season by having all the women now bend over backwards to please him.

Which brings me to what *was*, for me, the biggest disappointment of the night: that Don pressured Faye to give him inside info on poachable clients, and that Faye ultimately caved. Boooo! It wasn’t the first time Don’s tried to get her to breach that particular ethical wall. (Query: is “Chinese wall” still an acceptable phrase?) But he wasn’t so desperate before, and he didn’t push as hard as he did this time. I cheered when she initially told him where to get off, only to groan later when she appeared in his hallway. It was only too clear, even before she spoke, what was in that envelope: her professional integrity. And his. Check that – Don’s never had any integrity. He talks a good line about separating work from his personal affairs, but in reality he doesn’t do anything of the kind.

Still, if there’s anyone who makes Don’s failings pale in comparison, that would be Roger Sterling. Roger’s never been more pathetic than he was tonight, in the midst of SCDP's meltdown, from his charade over the loss of Lucky Strike to his whiny, self-pitying plea to Joan. I feel no sympathy for him, yet it was no pleasure watching him visibly deflate over the course of the episode. He also looked about ten years older by the end—old and tired and defeated, without a trace of his usual dapper nonchalance. Why do I have a sinking feeling that Jane narrowly prevented, or perhaps only delayed, an early widowhood, and that Joan’s carrying a baby that may never know its biological father? Maybe my fears are unfounded; Roger doesn’t strike me as the suicidal type. But he's never before been made to see with such brutal clarity the utter uselessness of his existence.

Meanwhile, as Roger skulked and sulked, his colleagues hustled in trying to keep the firm afloat—none more so than Pete. Even as his baby was being born, he was frantically trying to save his other baby (no, not Peggy’s): SCDP. But in so doing he had to confront the flip side of mixing family with business, and his reward—or punishment—for not building that particular firewall was that smarmy vulture, Ted not-spelled-Shaw. I’ll give this much to Ted: he knows to lay the butter on thick with Pete. I don’t think it’ll work, though. It didn’t when Duck had a try last season, and Pete’s got so much more invested in the new Sterling Cooper than he did in the old one.

The one drop of cheer in this cauldron of stress was, of course, Peggy’s radiant afterglow. It's cute to see her so genuinely into someone who's also genuinely into her. She’s not proving to be much better than her colleagues about keeping her professional and private lives separate, but the effect seems to be benign, at least so far. That is, if you discount Stan putting the moves on her. Now there’s a man who doesn’t know the meaning of boundaries. And yet for all his crude asshattery, it only amuses me that he so clearly has a thing for Peggy.

Best line: Uh, I can't recall any for this week. This was a pretty serious episode all around, Peggy's amours aside. Best cheap gag was the midget copywriter raising his hand to ask a question and being literally overlooked.

Random notes:

-Maybe it’s just because we (the audience) already knew what the score was with Roger and Lucky Strike, but his phony-phone conversation with Lee Garner, Jr. didn’t “ring” true at all (sorry, couldn’t resist)—it sounded as fake and stilted as...well, as it was. I’m surprised that Cooper didn’t notice him holding down the receiver. Is it possible Cooper did notice but didn’t say anything?

-First time we’ve seen Jane Sterling in a while. And for the first time, I found her rather endearing. Of course, what she meant as a sweet gesture—a vanity press printing of “Sterling’s Gold”—felt at that particular moment like a mockery of Roger’s entire life. It had to have stung. Almost do I feel sorry for the man- but no. He had every advantage in life, and he chose to fritter it all away. Cooper’s assessment was spot-on. How can anyone take a man seriously who won't take himself seriously?

The Kids are Not All Right in "The Social Network"

2010-10-03T23:36:00.032-04:00

THE SOCIAL NETWORK

directed by David Fincher
written by Aaron Sorkin
starring Jesse Eisenberg, Andrew Garfield, Justin Timberlake, others

Is “The Social Network” a movie of our age, or for all time? Hard to say at this point without knowing the fate of Facebook, the network it depicts (though not the only one, and arguably not even the most important one). But whether Facebook really represents the zeitgeist of an entire generation, or something smaller and more transient, ultimately may not matter. At bottom, the “Facebook movie” isn’t really about Facebook at all, except incidentally. It’s about the building of an empire, and most crucially about the man who built it.

That man, of course, is Mark Zuckerberg, who as an undergraduate at Harvard created the prototype for the now (in)famous social networking site that presently boasts half a billion users. Originally restricted to Harvard students, it expanded first to other similarly toney schools and, eventually, to the entire world. It made Zuckerberg a billionaire in the process, but also embroiled him in lawsuits brought by his former friend and Facebook cofounder Eduardo Saverin, who claimed Zuckerberg forced him out of the company, and by fellow Harvard students Cameron and Tyler Winklevoss and Divya Narendra, who accused Zuckerberg of stealing the idea for Facebook from them.

Directed by David Fincher and scripted by Aaron Sorkin, the film shifts between the depositions of Zuckerberg, Saverin, and the Winklevoss twins (played respectively by Jesse Eisenberg, Andrew Garfield, and Arnie Hammer) and their respective memories of the events at issue, leaving viewers to draw their own conclusions. Not so much with respect to culpability; whatever the legal merits of the claims against Zuckerberg, everything we see indicates that he used these people and hung them out to dry. The core of the film is not what he did but why, and it’s this aspect that’s both deeply compelling and just as deeply problematic.

“The Social Network” has drawn some fairly lofty comparisons to other tales of empire-builders, ranging from “Citizen Kane” to “There Will Be Blood”; one critic has even called it The Great Gatsby for our times. Inflated analogies aside, the film does share some common DNA with these works. Like them, it’s a parable of ambition, driven by alienation, towards an ever more deeply entrenched alienation—one that manages to make a man with no discernible moral compass oddly compelling and, at the same time, fundamentally unknowable. The hallmark of the filmmakers, however, is unmistakable. Fincher’s spent much of his career depicting the nature and effects of obsession (most prominently in “Zodiac,” but also in films like “Fight Club,” “Seven,” and “The Game”), while Sorkin, albeit in a more comic vein, has written plenty about shakers and movers (“A Few Good Men,” “The West Wing”) and the neuroses that drive them.

With Zuckerberg, they strike the mother lode, creating a protagonist at once tragic and comic, inspired and myopic, and fearsome in his single-mindedness. From the moment he first conceives (or steals) the idea, Facebook is all he lives and breathes. Nothing else matters, and other people only matter to the extent they affect the success of Facebook. True, he does respond more spontaneously to the allure of Sean Parker (Justin Timberlake), the wily, smooth-talking founder of Napster who swoops in on Facebook in its early days, dazzles Zuckerberg with seductive promises of unimaginable wealth, fame, and glamour, and persuades him to move his budding business to Palo Alto and go after big-ticket investors at the expense of old friends like Saverin. However, even Parker proves no more than a means to an end, and eventually falls prey to both his own fatal flaws and Zuckerberg’s ruthlessness.

But what spurred Zuckerberg’s quest for dominance? According to Sorkin, it wasn’t just an instinctual lust for power. While Zuckerberg’s precise motives remain opaque, two driving forces emerge early in the movie. The first is Erica Albright (Rooney Mara, making the most of her relatively brief screen time), the girlfriend who calls him out as an asshole and unceremoniously dumps him at the film's outset. The second is the kind of privileged social status, embodied in the elite Harvard fraternities known as “finals clubs,” that men with names like Cameron and Tyler Winklevoss take for granted, and to which Zuckerberg presumably would never be admitted. Zuckerberg essentially spends the entire movie creating Facebook to make Erica regret her rejection of him, thumbing his nose at the “Winklevi” for good measure—or, to quote his own words, showing them that “for the first time in their lives, things didn't go exactly the way they were supposed to for them”—and punishing poor Eduardo for being invited to join one of the much-vaunted finals clubs.

The problem with this narrative is that it has little or no basis in established fact. Sorkin’s script relies heavily on Ben Mezrich’s bestseller The Accidental Billionaires, which was based on Mezrich’s interviews with Saverin, articles from the Harvard Crimson, and a whole lot of speculation to fill in the blanks. Neither Mezrich nor Sorkin ever talked to Zuckerberg, and to the limited extent Zuckerberg’s commented on either the book or the movie, he’s predictably denied that he was ever interested in finals clubs or what they represented. That, of course, doesn’t mean he wasn’t, but there’s also no evidence—other than Saverin's say-so—that he was. And there actually is evidence that the Erica storyline is a complete fabrication.

Obviously, this wouldn’t be the first time Hollywood has played fast and loose with a supposedly “true story.” So why does it bother me in this instance? Maybe because it troubles me that the heart of the film, the part that viewers are likely to remember most vividly and digest as fact, is mostly fiction. Maybe because it lacks the usual indicators of an unreliable narrator, which makes it easier to accept as truth. Maybe because (full disclosure) I went to Harvard myself, several years before Zuckerberg, and even by then the old-money elite were such a marginal percentage of the overall population, and the finals clubs such a tiny sliver of the social scene, that their centrality in movie-Zuckerberg’s universe just doesn’t ring true with me. To be fair, at some level this is consistent with one of TSN’s overarching themes—that by Zuckerberg’s time, the old guard no longer wielded the power it once did, and could be all too easily sidelined by someone armed with talent and vision and unhampered by ethical scruples. (The point is underscored in a delightfully comic, if hammy, scene, in which the Winklevi attempt to convince then-President Larry Summers to take action against Zuckerberg.) Still, the idea that a student as brilliant and gifted as Mark Zuckerberg would be consumed by resentment towards those to the manor born seems at best implausible, at worst downright laughable. (One of Zuckerberg’s classmates has voiced a similar, though much stronger, objection to this aspect of the movie.)

None of this is to detract from the merits of the movie qua movie. It’s a gripping drama, fluidly filmed, sharply paced, and brimming with the kind of crackling dialogue that could only be penned by Sorkin. It features an outstanding lead performance by Eisenberg, who isn’t afraid to play Zuckerberg as an supremely unlikable little sociopath, yet at critical moments reveals subtle glimpses of a well-masked vulnerability. Garfield, too, is excellent, as his foil—as appealing as Zuckerberg is unappealing, but doomed to lag permanently a step behind—while JT is a hoot as the sleazy yet far-sighted foil to the foil, clearly enjoying the role of devil on Zuckerberg’s shoulder. As for the ultra-WASPy Winklevoss twins, they’re almost too well cast; it isn’t easy to take seriously an actor who’s a dead ringer for Prince William and who's himself a scion of the closest thing we have to an American aristocracy. (Arnie Hammer, as it turns out, is the great-grandson of tycoon and art collector Armand Hammer, a name familiar to anyone who’s ever visited the very fine art museum at UCLA.) Nevertheless, he acquits himself well, and just may walk off with the best line in the entire movie.

What this all adds up to is a smart, bracing piece of entertainment that’s more of a riff on actual events than a credible account of them. I just hope that everyone who sees it realizes that’s all it is. Otherwise, this may be one instance in which history wasn’t written by the victors.

GRADE: B+

-----

And a few belated R.I.P.'s...

Quite a lot of entertainment-related celebrities have passed recently, but three stand out in particular: Tony Curtis, Arthur Penn, and Gloria Stuart. I've only seen each of them in one film - but each of them made a stronger impression with that one film than many an actor or director has over an entire career. I'll never forget Curtis as "Josephine" in the divinely comedic "Some Like It Hot"; Jack Lemmon may have been the funnier of the pair, but he wouldn't have been half so funny without his partner in crime - who also managed to maintain his very male sexiness even when in full drag. Penn's "Bonnie and Clyde" - the original American answer to the French nouvelle vague and prototype for movies ranging from "Butch Cassidy" to "Natural Born Killers" - held me riveted from start to finish, and felt as fresh as if I were one of the first moviegoers to see it. And finally, the charming Ms. Stuart was quite possibly the only good to come out of the otherwise execrable "Titanic."

The three of them made other films worth seeing, of course. (Curtis made a baby worth seeing, too, aka Jamie Lee, with then-wife Janet Leigh. Now *that* was a handsome Hollywood couple.) But even if they hadn't, that one performance would have ensured each of them a place in cinematic history. And that's a legacy worth celebrating.

Many, Many Movies; No "Mad Men" Recap This Week

2010-09-26T23:49:00.008-04:00

Got a lot on my plate this week, so even though I did catch tonight's episode of "Mad Men," I won't have time to recap it. All I can say is the writers sure stepped on the gas this week, didn't they? My head is still spinning.

In other news, I've been seeing quite a few movies lately, but haven't had time to review them yet. I'll get to them as soon as I can; in the meantime, here are my initial grades and drive-by impressions:

NEVER LET ME GO

directed by Mark Romanek
starring Carey Mulligan, Keira Knightley, Andrew Garfield, Charlotte Rampling, Sally Hawkins
based on the novel by Kazuo Ishiguro

GRADE: B+

REVIEW IN A NUTSHELL: About as good as an adaptation of this particular book *could* be. Its problems are problems inherent in the original design of the story and characters. Solidly acted across the board; somewhat to my surprise, I'd give best in show to Keira.

WALL STREET 2: MONEY NEVER SLEEPS

directed by Oliver Stone
starring Michael Douglas, Shia Laboeuf, Carey Mulligan, Josh Brolin, Frank Langella

GRADE: B

REVIEW IN A NUTSHELL: Reasonably engaging, though not a patch on the first movie and not as good as it could have been. Slides into predictability and sentimentality towards the end, but redeemed by strength of performances.

THE TOWN

directed by Ben Affleck
starring Ben Affleck, Jeremy Renner, Rebecca Hall, Jon Hamm, Blake Lively, Pete Postlethwaite

GRADE: B

REVIEW IN A NUTSHELL: Action/suspense elements were well executed; relationship drama less compelling, though that's no fault of any of the actors, who were generally quite good.

EASY A

directed by Will Gluck
starring Emma Stone, Penn Badgley, Amanda Bynes, Patricia Clarkson, Stanley Tucci, Thomas Haden Church, Lisa Kudrow, Malcolm McDowell, others

GRADE: B (Emma Stone: Easy A, indeed!)

REVIEW IN A NUTSHELL: Agreed with critics who say that Emma Stone is fabulous and by far the best thing in the movie. Worth watching for that reason, but *only* that reason.

ANIMAL KINGDOM

written and directed by David Michod
starring Guy Pearce, Joel Edgerton, and a whole buncha Australians

GRADE: B/B+

REVIEW IN A NUTSHELL: Gritty portrait of an Australian crime family coming apart at the seams, as seen by a young naif who gets pulled into their messy, nasty web. Doesn't always make a lot of sense, and the main character tends to suck the life out of the movie, but does do a good job putting the screws into the viewers and ratcheting up anxiety levels.

More later, if not sooner!

"Mad Men" Ep. 4.9: "The Beautiful Girls"

2010-09-20T00:44:00.005-04:00

Death is no joke, but damned if "Mad Men" didn't come pretty close to proving the contrary. I can't remember the last time I laughed as hard as I did tonight at the entire sequence of Ms. Blankenship's, er, removal from the office - everything from Peggy's horrified yelp to poor tiny Pete in the distance, struggling with the dead body, to the transfixed expression on Ken's face to Harry's off-screen protest at the use of his afghan ("my mother made that!") as a shroud. Trust Blankenship to exit as she entered - as a source of unwitting hilarity.

But also a source of pathos. With her passing, death suddenly felt nearer for Roger, Joan, and perhaps most of all for Bert Cooper, though the episode focused more on the dual reaction of Roger and Joan to the thought that they, too might one day end up like Blankenship, dead long after her expiration date. (With Greg all but shipped off to Vietnam, Joanie must have had death especially on her mind already.) Fear and sadness drew those two old friends back together, and an added jolt of fear reunited them, however briefly, as lovers. As to that, while near-death experiences may be a great aphrodisiac and all, I frankly rolled my eyes at their back-alley, post-mugging tryst. But there was something quite poignant about their interaction the next day, and those parting looks of yearning. They're not done yet, those two, not by a long shot, especially if Dr. Donkey-dick bites it in 'Nam. Though frankly I wouldn't be surprised if the bugger just comes back maimed in some way, which would be the worst of possible worlds for poor Joan.

If Mrs. Blankenship in this, her final, episode embodied the fear of being dead and forgotten, she also represented the last of an earlier generation of working women. It was surely no coincidence that we had all the "Mad" women of the succeeding generations in such close proximity - Joan, Faye, Peggy, Meghan, even Joyce on the margins (of course) - and on the other side, Betty, still the antithesis and the throwback. The last shot of Joan, Peggy, and Faye in the elevator starkly framed three alternate paths: on one side, the woman for whom career was supposed to be only a precursor or, at best, an accessory, to marriage and family; on the other, the woman who chose career over marriage and family; and in the middle, the younger woman who still wants it all. (I also noticed that just moments before, we see Joyce entering an elevator by herself: alone and ahead of the rest.) It was also significant, I think, that all of these women, except Joyce, had to deal with both Don and runaway Sally. There's a suggestion of a choice, for both father and daughter, among these various types - in Sally's case, not just as a potential role model but as a potential new parent.

Sally's meltdown was painful to watch; sadly, it was also about due. It doesn't help that her mother continues to treat her as a pawn in her bitter power-struggle with Don. The friend I was watching the show with tonight practically cheered when Don barked, "You learn some responsibility!" at Betty over the phone. But I thought the comment was a bit rich coming from Don, who may be warmer and more affectionate towards Sally, but is still inclined to shuffle her off to whatever woman happens to be handy. Even if it's a woman who by her own admission is no good with children. Faye was right to call him on it. I'm glad Don listened and apologized, but I just don't see him staying with her for the long haul. He's going to want someone who can be a mother to his kids.

Random notes:

-Things don't look too auspicious for Abe and Peggy...or do they? Abe was blundering and tactless and full of that particularly annoying brand of high-mindedness that can only condescend and lecture, never listen and respond. And yet, despite himself, there was something oddly endearing about his passion: unlike, say, Paul Kinsey, he doesn't come across as a poseur. And he *did* make Peggy rethink her own agnosticism about her clients' racial politics; here's hoping she makes him rethink his dismissive attitude towards the discrimination *she* faces. That argument between them - about whether and to what extent you can really compare different forms of discrimination - still has a lot of resonance today.

-Interesting juxtaposition of the racism of Fillmore Autoparts with the mugging of Roger and Joan by a black man. It was probably intentional. Not sure it was necessary.

-I wish Matt Weiner et al. would stop making Betty so unsympathetic this season. I happen to be one of those few who didn't think she was a particularly horrible mother before - just typical of her class and time period, perhaps further crippled by her own particular misery in her marriage and unwanted third pregnancy. But now? She's losing me, and I *don't* think the change has been organic or consistent with the character I knew before. That utter fakeness of her soft touch and words to Sally at the end of this episode ("I was worried about you"), and the hardening of her face as she looked at the other women, sent chills down my spine. Great acting by January Jones, but I want to see Betty's human side, not Mommie Dearest.

-Next to Mrs. Blankenship's impromptu departure, the second funniest moment in the episode had to be Sally serving Don French toast with rum instead of Mrs. Butterworth's. The kicker being his final verdict. (Sally: "Is it bad?" Don: "Not really." Nyom nyom nyom.)

Best line:

Don: "I would have my secretary do it, but she's DEAD."

So wrong on so many levels, and yet so funny.

"Mad Men" Ep. 4.8: "The Summer Man"

2010-09-13T23:20:00.001-04:00

Well, that was different. But mostly in a good way.

This felt like a California episode of "Mad Men," and it wasn't just the quality of the summer light or the abundance of swimming imagery. It was the sight of Don essentially importing his California self into his New York self. California Don - thanks largely, but not entirely, to the presence of Anna - has always been more open and honest about his own emotions, more willing to admit his own errors, and more at ease with his inner Dick Whitman than New York Don, by turns impassive and imperious, ever was. The boundaries between these two selves have been increasingly blurred this season, but only now, having hit rock-bottom, does Don seem to be actively embracing his other, better half in an effort to pull himself out of the abyss.

That may be why the introduction of his voice-over narration didn't grate, though it was certainly unexpected. It's not a device I want to see continue, but for this particular moment in Don's life, it felt right. If there were ever a time for self-assessment, this would be it. In a sense, he's conducting therapy on himself.

In that vein, Don's swimming is of a piece with his soul-searching. And though it may call to mind another "Swimmer" of the same period, in Don's case it suggests a deliberate self-immersion in his unconscious emotions rather than a futile attempt to escape from them. Even the images of him lying alone in his bed are swimmer-like. They reminded me of a passage from one of my favorite books, A.S. Byatt's Possession:

He disposed himself for sleep. The sheets were white and felt slightly starched; he imagined that they smelled of fresh air and even the sea-salt. He moved down into their clean whiteness, scissoring his legs like a swimmer, abandoning himself to them, floating free. His unaccustomed muscles relaxed. He slept.

The character here, Roland, has little in common with Don; but like Don, his life's messy and he's in desperate need of a period of clean, unencumbered solitude. In another passage, slightly later in the book, Roland tells a woman who's plainly his soulmate - though neither of them recognizes this yet - that at that point in his life (he's trying to extricate himself from a long-dead, rotting relationship), what he really craves is "a clean empty bed in a clean empty room." Don seems to have come to the same realization, judging from his restrained response to both young Bethany and the older, warier Dr. Miller, who finally succumbs to Don's charms. He's clearly done with the former; why he doesn't press his advantage with the latter is a more interesting question. Maybe he's taken Aesop's fable to heart and prefers to play a subtler game. Maybe he really sees potential for something long-term with Faye. But at some level it's got to be because he knows it's best for himself, at this juncture, to be able to stretch out alone in a clean bed.

If Don's turned a corner, there are signs that Betty may be doing the same. This is the second episode in which Mrs. Francis starts off terribly but seems to collect herself, and even redeem herself a little, by the end - even if her last look conveyed an undefinable regret. Meanwhile, Henry, for all his talk of being the adult in that marriage, acted no less childishly towards Don than his wife, from his charade with the boxes to his silly lawn-mowing he-man routine. The punchline to that wholse showdown, of course, was an unfazed Don coolly pitching the boxes into a dumpster. He's moved on in a way that Betty, and by extension, Henry, haven't, and they both envy him that. At least Betty now seems more willing to act the part of an adult; here's hoping the reality will follow.

Of course, for every upward character arc on "Mad Men," there has to be a downward one to balance it out, and unfortunately the latter appears to have fallen to Joan. Not that we haven't seen signs of this all along - in her marriage, of course, but also, lately, in the office. As I commented last week, with the evolution of the new Sterling Cooper there's been an erosion of Joan's power, though it's difficult to separate from her growing unhappiness and anxiety over her husband's imminent departure for Vietnam. Still, even apart from that it's become increasingly clear that she no longer exercises the same influence over the younger staff that she once did. I hate to put her in the same category as Roger, but she, like him, is seeming more and more like a relic of a past era, a point underscored with remarkable brutality by young Joey. (Speaking of whom - oedipal issues, much?)

If Joan literally embodies the old era of female power in the workplace, then Peggy represents the new. Joan, understandably, is hostile to that shift and was unfair and ungracious to Peggy as a consequence. Peggy was right to fire Joey; it was one of the most satisfying moments of the night. And yet Joan, too, is right about its likely impact on perceptions of both of them. It's a problem that persists today.

Random notes:

-"I was blind, but now I see." Indeed. As I've said before, "Mad Men"'s use of symbolism is *not* subtle. But that's ok, subtlety isn't everything.

-How cool did Don look during the "Satisfaction" sequence, from the white shirt to the shades to the cigarette? It was a little cheesy, but it *worked*. Papa's got a brand new bag. And no hat, which might be significant.

-I found the juxtaposition of Bethany and Betty, in addition to being awkward, a bit creepy. Talk about doubling - names, hairstyles, even superficial physical type. Bethany's reaction was priceless, however; you could see the wheels turning in her head as soon as she looked from Betty to Don. Far from being squicked out, she found, er, encouragement, I guess, in the resemblance. But she miscalculated.

-Dr. Faye's loud, semi-public phone breakup seemed very forced to me. But of course it gave Don the opening he needed, and revealed some new dimensions to Faye's character. Her less-than-patrician background may also appeal to the new Don that's emerging, the one that's learning to accept his own shady past.

-Harry is such a poser. Go open the LA office already, Harry.

Best line:

Peggy, on Mountain Dew and whiskey: "That's not a cocktail, that's an emergency."

A Kiss is Not Just a Kiss...As "Cairo Time" Goes By

2010-09-06T22:57:00.008-04:00

Quietly, and with zero fanfare, “Cairo Time” has slipped past several flashier contenders to become my favorite film of the year thus far. Granted, the year’s still young (infantile, actually) in movie release terms. And I have to admit that part of the reason I responded so strongly to “Cairo Time” was the element of surprise: it wasn’t on my radar at all, and unexpected pleasures are often the sweetest. There's more to it than that, however. What distinguishes “Cairo Time” isn’t its subject matter, which is fairly rote (WASPy lady, visiting an exotic foreign land, finds herself drawn to attractive native host), but the extraordinary delicacy with which it handles the interactions between its two central characters.

Much of the credit, though not all, goes to the actors: the great Patricia Clarkson as Juliette, an American in Cairo to meet her husband, Mark, a U.N. employee, and Alexander Siddig (“Syriana,” “Kingdom of Heaven,” “24”) as Tareq, a former colleague and friend of Mark’s who, when the latter is held up in Gaza, picks Juliette up at the airport, delivers her safely to her hotel, and politely offers her whatever assistance she may need. As Mark’s detention continues indefinitely and Juliette finds her Western looks and clothes attracting unwelcome attention on the streets, she solicits Tareq’s services as guide and de facto bodyguard. Tareq obliges, and an unlikely friendship—with a hint, if not a promise, of something more—develops between them over the course of her stay.

The dynamic between Tareq and Juliette is somewhat reminiscent of “Lost in Translation,” crossed with “Before Sunrise/Before Sunset,” and perhaps a touch of “In the Mood for Love”—all movies I love, so it’s no wonder I loved this one, too. As in those films, communication is as much unspoken as spoken, if not more so: a gesture, an expression, a seemingly casual touch conveys volumes that can’t be articulated in words. And as in those films, we see how much the connection between two strangers depends on the special and peculiar circumstances that both bring them together and pull them apart. Part of what makes that connection so believable here is how wholly unanticipated it is on both sides, and yet how organically it unfolds. Juliette isn’t suffering from a midlife crisis: a successful women’s magazine editor with two grown children, she seems quite happily married and content with both her professional and personal life. Still, there are moments, calibrated with wonderful subtlety by Clarkson, when she reveals not so much boredom as a certain susceptibility to the lure of the new—new experiences and sensations that not only relieve her temporary enforced solitude but lift her out of the comfortable groove of her everyday life. While Tareq remains more mysterious, as portrayed by Siddig (so good in “Syriana,” so different yet equally good here) he’s far more than a cipher or mere projection of Juliette’s desires. Underneath his courtesy and charm, he reveals signs of a man who’s suffered more disappointments than Juliette, but doesn’t dwell on them—which makes the fleeting glimpses he offers into his heart all the more poignant.

"Cairo Time" has a lovely, seductive languor that gives the title a romantic, slightly wistful significance. The time that Tareq and Juliette have together—mere days for them, and just over an hour and a half for us—lingers luxuriously without losing its fundamentally ephemeral quality. If it all feels a bit dreamlike, that's by design. Never has Cairo looked more inviting: director Ruba Nadda casts the city in a warm, flattering glow that burnishes its incredible beauty while excluding, for the most part, its less appealing aspects. We see Juliette’s changing attitude towards both Cairo and her companion reflected in her attire, which gradually shifts from crisp shirts and khakis to alluring pastel and floral print dresses that cling softly to her body; even her features seem to soften, and not just because of the lighting.

Still, Nadda doesn't let the atmospherics cloud her view, or ours, of the two protagonists or their potential as a couple. The spark between them feels more like a slow burn, kept in check by their respective situations and their own personalities. I won’t give away the outcome of the “will they/won’t they” question, other than to say that the consummation of their attraction feels exactly, poetically right. Their shared experience is their gift to one another, and to the audience drawn into their web of conflicting desires.

GRADE: A-

"Mad Men" Ep. 4.7: "The Suitcase"

2010-09-05T23:54:00.008-04:00

This episode, aptly titled "The Suitcase," might just as easily have been called "The Fight." The famous Muhammad Ali-Sonny Liston match of 1965, which resulted in one of the most iconic boxing photos of all time, provided a neat framing device for several key "Mad Men" relationships, as long-simmering tensions gave way to open conflict: most obviously between Don and Peggy, as well as Don and Duck, but also between Peggy and hapless Mark, Peggy and her own family, and Joan and the Sterling Cooper junior frat club. (I'd even argue Trudy and Peggy traded a couple of jabs in the ladies' room, whether or not that was the conscious intent on either side.) Like the Ali-Liston bout, each of these faceoffs ended inconclusively or, at best, with an ambiguous victory.

No doubt fans who love Don and Peggy were delighted to see them finally have it out. Myself, I was alternately exasperated with both of them - Don for being so rude and peremptory with Peggy, Peggy for sticking around and putting up with his crap - and worried that the two of them would hook up. (Not that I've ever truly, rationally thought that Matt Weiner would go down that path, but after the Allison debacle I put nothing past Don.) Thankfully, their showdown culminated in greater emotional, not physical, intimacy - a surprisingly feel-good ending after an unpromising beginning. There were so many ways their blow-up could have messed them both up even further: Don was obviously abusing Peggy to hold his Anna-related guilt and fears at bay, while Peggy, in deciding to stay, was just as obviously working through a host of her own issues - daddy issues, mommy issues, career-girl issues (a/k/a "what I want vs. what's expected of me," to quote the good Dr. Faye). The sight of Don and Duck drunkenly fighting - ostensibly over Peggy's honor, but really over her loyalty - was like a grotesque parody of a courtly romance, and all I could think about was what a field day Freud would have had with all three of them.

Yet somehow, against all odds, Don and Peggy seemed to draw strength from each other after tearing each other down. The symmetry of having them both cry was a little too pat, but I'll take it if it means they've both moved forward. We've seen enough of Don wallowing in his guilt and self-hatred and Peggy stewing over Don not appreciating her. I also think we've seen enough of both Mark and Duck, though there's a part of me that will always feel a little sorry for Duck. What can I say, I seem to have sympathy for the characters that everyone else hates (Betty, Pete, Duck, even Dr. Rapist). But if Peggy's going to be a life-preserver to any man, it's clearly not going to be Duck. Don may have cried uncle, but he came out on top after all.

And surely being covered in his own vomit and pinned by an even drunker Duck has got to be Don hitting bottom, right? I'm keeping my fingers crossed that this episode - Don's "purging" (that was a hella puke), his crying, his last vision of the beatified spirit of Saint Anna (with a Samsonite suitcase, heh - carrying away Don's baggage, perhaps, and leaving him in Peggy's care) - was the final kick, the moment of catharsis he needed. I take encouragement in our last view of him, with his fresh shirt, his crisp yet kindly tone to Peggy at the end, the door he told her to leave open.

But on the other hand - Don bet on Liston to win.

Best line - or at least, best-delivered line, from Peggy:

"Cooper has no testicles?"

Random notes:

-There seems to have been a gradual erosion of Joan's omnipotence at Sterling Cooper over this season. First Lane Pryce deprecates her charms; then she gets relegated to the ranks of "old married women" who aren't needed for a focus group study; now that young punk art guy has been going out of his way to defy her authority. (Although to be fair, he doesn't seem to have respect for anyone's authority, judging by his past comments on Don and Pete.) There was a time when Joan would have had all the underlings eating out of her hand. Now, not so much. Sign of a culture shift at Sterling Cooper? Or her own thinning patience and diminishing joie de vivre? Or just a reflection of her own changed social status as a married woman?

-Loved the look of alarm on Pete's face as he saw Trudy and Peggy emerging from the ladies' room. Vincent Kartheiser has really been knocking it out of the park this season.

-Not surprised that Trudy appears to have inherited her father's love of bloodsport. This is a lady to be reckoned with.

-Whom did Pete bet on to win the fight? It wasn't clear to me from his comments, though it was clear he identified with Ali. I thought it was interesting that the dweeby new guy, Jane's cousin (who will always be Doyle from "Gilmore Girls" to me, though I understand he was also on Buffy), definitely DID bet on Ali to win. And he also called out Harry on his greed and antisemitism. Perhaps we shouldn't underestimate the little dude after all.

-So Dr. Lyle Evans does mean something after all! Well played, Weiner, well played.

Fall 2010 Movie Preview

2010-08-31T22:31:00.011-04:00

After a generally uninspiring summer movie season, I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s looking forward to the fall—which is usually when 85% of the best movies of the year come out anyhow. Hard to believe that Labor Day just around the corner; maybe it’s the continued run of high 80 and 90-degree temperatures here in swampy, sweltering D.C., but it doesn’t really feel like summer is over yet.

Be that as it may, this is the time of year when I flag ten or fifteen films slated for fall release that I’m excited to see. Inevitably, for at least some of them my enthusiasm wanes—whether because of poor reviews or other factors—so that I don’t even end up seeing them after all. And as often as not, the ones I do see will disappoint me, while other movies not even on my radar end up becoming my favorites of the year. Therefore, rather than announcing the following as my “most anticipated films” of the fall season, I'll just say they are films that have piqued my interest, listed in order of release date:

THE AMERICAN (Tomorrow – Sept. 1)

It’s really all about the poster: retro in a good way. The trailer, not so much: a weary hit man carrying out one last job, a possible femme fatale or two, hints of a shadowy conspiracy – nothing we haven’t seen before, and nothing that suggests a novel approach. But trailers are deceptive, and I place my faith in (1) George Clooney’s ability to pick smart, quality projects that hit the sweet spot of his acting range (within which he’s consistently excellent); (2) director Anton Corbijn, whose exquisitely composed “Control” wasn’t so much a biopic as, well, an étude on Joy Division lead singer Ian Curtis.

NEVER LET ME GO (Sept. 15)

Kazuo Ishiguro is one of my favorite living writers, and Never Let Me Go one of his best novels. It’s never struck me as particularly filmable, however. As usual with Ishiguro, the narrative is filtered through a protagonist who spends a lifetime in quiet denial and an often frustrating passivity, only reaching belated recognition of certain essential truths when it’s too late to do anything about them. And even though the plot has some of the elements of a mystery, there’s no shocking climax or big reveal, nor is there any true moment of crisis or epiphany; in this respect it’s far more elliptical than The Remains of the Day, the only other Ishiguro novel that, to my knowledge, has ever been adapted for the big screen. Still, I’m extremely curious to see what kind of film could be made from a story that moves in ripples rather than an arc, and the casting—Carey Mulligan as the narrator, Keira Knightley and Andrew Garfield as her two best friends—intrigues.

THE TOWN (Sept. 17)

Ben Affleck is back behind the camera, mining the same territory—the seedy criminal underbelly of working-class Bah-ston—that netted unexpected praise for his 2007 directorial debut feature “Gone Baby Gone.” This time, he’s put himself in front of the camera, too, a decision in which I hope vanity played no part. What really attracts me to this film is the rest of the cast: Jeremy Renner (“The Hurt Locker”), Rebecca Hall (“Vicky Cristina Barcelona,” “Frost/Nixon”), Pete Postlethwaite (“Inception” and a hell of a lot of films in the ’90s, most memorably “In the Name of the Father”), and, last but not least, Jon Hamm as a rather non-Don Draper-like FBI agent. Sold, barring terrible reviews.

EASY A (Sept. 17)

Let's face it, teen sex comedies have become pretty old hat by this point. “Easy A” tries a slightly different spin as a comedy about a teenager who everyone thinks is having sex even though she actually isn’t. That sounds an awfully feeble premise, yet “Easy A” looks surprisingly fresh or, at the least, reasonably engaging—thanks mostly to the wry, wise-eyed appeal of Emma Stone as the sardonic outsider who, through a mixture of misunderstandings and deliberate deception, goes from nobody to school slut. It’s no Nathaniel Hawthorne, but it may be good for some easy laughs.

WALL STREET: MONEY NEVER SLEEPS (Sept. 24)

If you’d asked me a year ago what I thought of the idea of a sequel to “Wall Street,” I’d have said either "no thanks" or, more simply, "why?" Yet something about the preview has sucked me in: I don’t know whether it’s the half-ironic, half-affectionate nods to the original film, the still-sharp gaze and easy demeanor of Michael Douglas as a newly sprung, remarkably unchastened Gordon Gecko, or the whisper of topicality that hangs about the movie’s themes in our post-bailout, post-Madoff, post-Enron times. It’s certainly not Shia LaBoeuf’s hair or Carey Mulligan’s tearful mug, though I’ve liked both those kids in other roles. Whatever it is, my attitude towards the movie has flipped from dismissive to weirdly hopeful. Then again, I had a similar shift in feeling this past spring towards “The A-Team,” which I never ended up watching or regretted missing. It remains to be seen whether “Wall Street 2” meets a similar fate or manages to hold on to my interest.

THE SOCIAL NETWORK (Oct. 1)

I doubt that this film will reveal anything especially illuminating about the founder(s) of Facebook or the clash of interests that drove them apart. Still, with David Fincher at the helm, a screenplay by Aaron Sorkin based on Ben Mezrich’s book, positive festival buzz, and a cadre of up-and-coming young actors—including a perfectly cast Jesse Eisenberg as Mark Zuckerberg and rising It Boy (and future Spiderman) Andrew Garfield—I can’t pretend I’m not intrigued.

HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS (Part 1) (Nov. 19)

I don’t have particularly high hopes for the penultimate Harry Potter movie, but as a devoted fan of the books I feel compelled to see it anyway. Director David Yates’ track record with the franchise is mixed: from my perspective, he has one hit (“Order of the Phoenix”) and one miss (“The Half-Blood Prince”), so all bets are off for the next one. However, I take some encouragement in the fact that Deathly Hallows, though perfectly satisfactory as a series capper, wasn’t one of my favorites in the overall saga. That bodes well for the film, since thus far there’s been an inverse relationship between how much I like a Harry Potter book and how much I’ve liked the big screen adaptation.

THE KING’S SPEECH (Nov. 24)

The story of how George VII, successor to the British throne after his older brother, Edward VIII, abdicated to marry Wallis Simpson, learned to overcome a bad stutter and rally his country as it entered WWII doesn’t exactly sound like riveting material. But it boasts a stellar cast, including Colin Firth as the king, Helena Bonham-Carter (in non-Goth mode) as his wife, Geoffrey Rush as his speech therapist, Guy Pearce as Edward VIII, and Derek Jacobi as the Archbishop of Canterbury.

BLACK SWAN (Dec. 1)

Indie wunderkund Darren Aronofsky ("The Wrestler," "Requiem for a Dream," "The Fountain") sets his sights on the gorgeous, effed-up world of professional ballet. This ain’t no “Center Stage,” though, or even an Altman-esque “Company.” Rather, it’s a psychological drama about a star ballerina (Natalie Portman) who, threatened by the presence of a rising star (Mila Kunis), starts to lose her bearings and her sense of identity. Judging from the thriller, the film has a compellingly creepy, almost horror-movieish vibe, but horror in the way that Hitchcock's films are horror. Aronofsky also scores extra points for casting Barbara Hershey and Winona Ryder in key parts.

THE TEMPEST (Dec. 10)

Helen Mirren as a gender-bending Prospero? Julie Taymor directing? A scantily clad Djimon Hounsou as Caliban? Yes, please.

THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA: VOYAGE OF THE DAWN TREADER (Dec. 10)

The Voyage of the Dawn Treader is by far my favorite of the Narnia series, so basically, I can’t not see this. I have mixed feelings about the trailer (when, oh when, will a movie adaptation ever get the character of Reepicheep right?), but I actually rather enjoyed the previous installment, “Prince Caspian,” (especially cutie Ben Barnes, who’s back as now-King Caspian) and am interested to see how the film evokes some of the more haunting images from the book.

THE FIGHTER (Dec. 10)

From Shooter to Fighter: Mark Wahlberg knows where his strengths lie as an actor. (“Rock Star” being best charitably written off as an unfortunate lapse.) Based on a true story, “The Fighter” depicts an Irish American boxer’s unlikely ascent to the world championships with the aid of a troubled brother (Christian Bale) who helps train him for the big time. Doubtless nothing groundbreaking here, but I have a soft spot for Marky Mark and am quite fond of both Christian Bale (when not ranting) and director David O. Russell’s “Three Kings.”

TRON: LEGACY (Dec. 17)

I never even saw “Tron,” but I’m tickled at the idea of updating its Atari-era concept for our present digital age, and the buzz out of Comic-Con seems to be pretty good. Having Jeff Bridges (who starred in the original) helps, too.

SOMEWHERE (Dec. 22)

Sofia Coppola resurfaces with a new film that, like “Lost in Translation,” takes place largely in a hotel and centers on a washed-up movie star (here, Stephen Dorff). This time, however, she hones in on the guy’s efforts to develop a relationship with the young daughter (Elle Fanning) he barely knows. This one's a no-brainer: Coppola's films are virtually must-see events for me. Not because they're perfect - they're not - but because hers is such a uniquely delicate voice in a Hollywood that seems to grow louder and brassier by the day.

THE WAY BACK (late December)

It’s unclear whether Peter Weir’s latest film, which premieres at Telluride, will actually open in theaters this year. But if it does, I’ll be there. The subject matter sounds like the stuff of rather grim heroics, as it’s based on the supposedly true story of a group of Polish prisoners who miraculously escaped a Siberian gulag during WWII and trekked all the way to India. Still, if there's any director who can make it work, it's Weir. No one else can capture the dynamics of a closed, cut-off society with such sensitivity and power: see, e.g., “Gallipolli,” “Witness,” “The Mosquito Coast, “Dead Poets Society,” ”The Truman Show,”and my personal favorite, “Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World.”

All in all, looks like a promising fall...Stay tuned to see if any of these babies live up to expectations.

"Mad Men" Ep. 4.6: "Waldorf Stories"

2010-08-30T01:23:00.006-04:00

First off, congrats to "Man Men" for winning its third consecutive Emmy for best TV drama series (and for best writing too, I believe). Gotta love those Emmy-Clio parallels: I'm willing to bet that timing was NOT coincidence.

Overall, I thought tonight's episode was a bit of a comedown after the last few weeks. Maybe that's just because it didn't move the season forward in any immediately discernible way. Rather, it hit the pause/rewind button to freeze-frame Sterling Cooper, Then and Now - or more specifically, Don and Roger, Then and Now, with a little bit of Roger and Joan for good measure - for comparison and contrast purposes.

Are we supposed to infer that Cure for the Common Midget could become the new Don, or that Don's becoming the new Roger? The latter seems more likely, though either possibility frankly depresses me.

The structuring of the episode wasn't particularly subtle - "Mad Men" has been less so generally this season, I think - but the flashbacks did shed an interesting new light on the Don-Roger dynamic and how Don got a leg up the Sterling Cooper ladder. Hard to believe that he was once that bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, especially after seeing his sodden present-day self. (Oh, the bitter irony of Don and Roger laughing at Duck at the Clios!)

I have to say that Don's descent is starting to remind me of Alice's fall down the rabbit hole - it's going on so long that it's starting to get tedious. You've made your point, writers, and underscored it several times - do we really need to see Don on yet another bender or another sad, sad attempt to pick up Dr. Faye? Or did you just want to show that his drinking is now directly affecting the quality of his work? (His riff on the Life cereal ad was painful to watch.) Fine, but can't you just let him hit bottom already?

Similarly, Peggy seemed to be mostly running in place in this episode. Amusing as it was to see her get the best of Arrogant Prick Art Director, that plotline just felt like a distraction. It didn't show us anything about Peggy's character or her peculiar betwixt-and-between status (not one of the girls, but not one of the boys, either) that we didn't already know. Oh, and the scales are falling from her eyes with respect to Don. But we've seen *that* coming for a while, too. On with it!

Random notes:

-Don's hair during the Life cereal pitch, together with his drunken demeanor, made him look like his father.

-Flashback tidibts: Loved the brief shot of Betty in the fur store ad, looking surprisingly...austere. And Joan's Marilyn-esque 'do.

-Pete's reaction to Ken's arrival was predictable, and typically childish, but it wasn't unjustified. Did he get what he wanted with his little charade in the conference room, I wonder, or will there be more friction ahead between those two? I have to admit that if it comes to another showdown, I'm on Team Pete - even though I have no ill will towards Cosgrove, who seems like a basically decent guy with much less psychological baggage than just about every other character on the show.

Best line:

Peggy: “I only changed one little thing.” The accompanying hand gesture KILLED.

"Mad Men" Ep. 4.5: "The Chrysanthemum and the Sword"

2010-08-23T23:09:00.004-04:00

One problem with waiting to write about a "Mad Men" episode is that by the time everyone else on the internets posts his or her recap, there's really not much left to say except "It was awesome!" At least this week was extra-specially awesome, if for no other reason than our getting to see Peggy riding around in circles on a red motorcycle. Don's con on Ted Wannabe-Draper had much of the fun "Ocean's 11"-ish feel of last season's finale - jazzy '60s heist-movie music and all - and reaffirmed that whatever we might think about Don Draper's personal life, it's always a treat to watch him in full-on professional mode. (And even more of a treat to see him tripped up by the wonderful Mrs. Blankenship. May her ineptitude never cease.)

There was of course plenty of darkness to balance out the light, thanks primarily to two characters who probably couldn't have made themselves more unlikable if they'd tried: Roger with his cretinous rejection of the Honda delegation and Betty with her equally cringeworthy treatment of Sally. But it's important to keep in mind that neither of them committed these ugly acts in a vacuum. Each drew from a well of anger that, while not exactly deeply buried, had deep roots. And in the end, both Roger and Betty at least attempted to make amends and reconcile themselves to ideas they'd previously found intolerable.

I never thought I'd defend anyone - least of all Roger Sterling (whom I've always found charming but completely indefensible) - for what looks at first glance like the worst kind of bigotry. Certainly Roger's provided ample evidence of his racism and sexism in the past, though he's been more of a *casual* racist - the kind who doesn't seem to give much thought to minorities at all except to assume their social inferiority as a fact of life. But with the Japanese it's different, and intensely personal. That should come as no surprise. Anyone who fought in the Pacific in WWII saw firsthand a shockingly ruthless, brutal style of warfare by the Japanese, which, compounded with the racist anti-Japanese propaganda drilled into the heads of all Americans at the time, was enough to warp minds stronger and wiser than Roger's. (Not just the Americans either; to this day, there's still a good deal of intransigent anti-Japanese sentiment across parts of Asia, particularly in Korea and China.)

Which is not to excuse Roger's boorish conduct towards the Honda folks, only to emphasize that there's something more going on here than his garden-variety WASPy prejudices. For this reason, Pete's reading of his behavior as motivated by turf jealousy struck me as totally wrong-headed, even if Don agreed or pretended to agree with it. It may be true of Roger's attitude as a whole, but not, I think, in this particular instance. Still, the sting of the accusation was evidently enough to get him back in line, at least for now, and he did have a very lovely moment with Joan - as those two so often do - in which she was able to siphon off some of that long-festering bitterness. Dear Joan! I hope you learn from Roger not to go down his path, because it leads to a dead end.

As for Betty, it'll be a miracle if she has any sympathizers left after slapping poor Sally. That blow was inexcusable. It most likely reflected her pent-up rage, not against Sally for cutting her hair, but against Don for doing his Don thing and not being there (and, in Betty's head, off schtupping some other woman). I'm willing to cut her a little more slack for her response to Sally's masturbating (btw, did people really say the word outright like that back then?), because, sad to say, I imagine many, if not most, other mothers of that period would have reacted in a similar way. (The woman who discovered and reported Sally certainly wouldn't win any prizes over Betty for enlightened parenting.) But the fact remains that Betty's too handicapped by her own issues to understand what's going on with Sally. I do think, though, she was on to something when she linked Sally's "acting out" to the death of Grandpa Gene - even if she was primarily self-projecting. And no, I do NOT think Eugene ever molested either Betty or Sally. I believe Matt Weiner's denied it as well.

I feel like I'm always quoting Alan Sepinwall (who as always writes the best recap), but I really thought his take on Betty this week was spot-on:

It's easy to paint Betty as the villain in the family. She's cold and judgmental and quick to take out her frustrations on her kids. She's not charismatic or funny (at least never intentionally), and she doesn't get to dazzle us with her brilliance in some other field so we'll forgive her personal flaws. But she's also not the one who was cheating on her spouse for years (other than that quickie with Captain Awesome on the night when the world was possibly ending). She's not the one who disappeared for hours on her daughter's birthday because she didn't feel at home there. She's not the one who lied about who she was. And she's not the one who got her spouse's shrink to reveal all the secrets of therapy.

Don's betrayal with Dr. Wayne is easy to forget. It was a long time ago (in both show-time and real-time), and so many other things have happened to Don and Betty since then. But if ever there were a character on "Mad Men" in need of a little self-examination in a safe environment, it's Betty. (Don at least has the capacity for self-awareness, even if he usually pushes down what he understands about himself.) And Don took that option away from her. And Henry the gentle homewrecker may have given it back.

I'm in complete agreement, and I think "Dr. Edna" has the potential to do good for Betty as well as Sally. Ditto Henry, who seems able to create that soothing safe space that Betty never had with Don.

I found it interesting that an episode titled "The Chrysanthemum and the Sword" - the book that first advanced the idea of Japanese/Asian "shame culture" in contrast to Western "guilt culture" - should spend so much time showing Betty's world as its own kind of shame society. Just as interestingly, it ends with both Betty and Sally participating in something akin to confession, which is more commonly associated with the purging of guilt. Meanwhile, Don, who's like the one-man walking embodiment of guilt culture, is able to understand and capitalize on the Honda executives' sense of shame by turning it against them. At the same time he, too, engages in a kind of confession (to Faye), wherein he's able to admit that he isn't much better of a parent than Betty.

Maybe the idea here is the promise of confession free of guilt and shame. Otherwise known as therapy, heh. Lord knows both Don and Betty could use it, though I think I trust Dr. Edna more than I do Dr. Faye.

Other observations:

-Pete continues to come into his own. I think Don praised and/or sided with him at least three times this episode, which has got to be a first. But Pete is still Pete, and he still tries too hard, as evidenced in the gift-giving scene with Honda. Fine bit of physical comedy there, with the swapping of the melon and the whiskey.

-Rather ironically, I think Henry may end up being a better father-figure to Sally than Don, if she lets him. I'm not sure she'll let him.

-Loved the brief return of Smitty, and his boss's peeved reaction to his calling Don a genius: "Get out of here, go work for your boyfriend...Find me twenty different words for pimple!"

Best line/exchange:

HONDA GUY: (in Japanese) How does she not fall over?
JOAN: They're not very subtle, are they.
INTERPRETER (staring at her chest): No, they are not.

Runner-up: Pete's "Christ on a cracker, where do you get off?"

Also, not really a line, but my other favorite LOL moment was Pete and Ms. Blankenship going all tug-o'-war on the package.

In unrelated news, I finally got my reviews of SALT and AGORA up this past weekend. Enjoy!

"Mad Men" Ep. 4.4: "The Rejected"

2010-08-16T20:50:00.002-04:00

It's the Peggy Olson Comedy Special! You know you're in for a rare treat in episodes that feature Peggy getting high, and so it is with this one, even when she's sober - from the hilarious sight of her head popping up over the office partition to spy on Don to her equally hilarious rejection of Ms. Assistant Photo Editor's advances. ("He doesn't own your vagina." "No, but he's renting it." Bwah!)

But of course it wasn't all laughs all the time from Peggy. We got a glimpse of her not-so-sunny side both in her treatment of Allison and in her reaction to the news of Trudy's pregnancy. While her anger at the insinuation that she slept with Don was understandable, I thought her pushback was unnecessarily harsh. Peggy's always had a streak of cruelty, or maybe it's just a lack of empathy; interestingly, the last time I remember seeing it was when she crushed Pete's declaration of love with her revelation about his baby, a confession that seemed to give her an odd kind of peace even as it robbed Pete of his. At the time, it really seemed that with that gesture she'd managed to put her whole history with him firmly behind her. Pete took a bit longer to get to the same place, but nothing we've seen so far this season has suggested that he's let their past intrude on their present. And yet with a single, supremely awkward congratulations (loved Peggy's silent head-slam afterwards) and a couple of exchanged glances, pregnant with meaning (sorry, couldn't resist), it all came back in a flood. But only for a moment, I think. They've both moved on, however ambivalent a part of them may still feel about it, and there was something valedictory about that last look.

Speaking of which, that last shot? Not subtle at all. Powerful, though. Past and future, juxtaposed: suits (with Pete) on one side of the glass, counterculture (with Peggy) on the other. A suggestion of diverging paths. But I don't think it's really that simple. After all, for all the attention this episode gave to Peggy branching out, it was just as much about Pete thinking outside the box - with an indirect assist from Ken Cosgrove (Kenny!), no less - and coming into his own. Pete's always shown an ability to see the big picture, only he didn't always have the timing or judgment to capitalize on it. His coup with daddy-in-law showed he's gotten exponentially better at calculating when to take a gamble. What's that line about sharks having to move forward or die? Pete's still a shark, and I mean that in the best possible way. I can't see him losing his forward-looking stance any time soon.

Meanwhile, Peggy, for her part, may be a modern woman, but she's still a bit of a square. She continues to hold on to the idea of getting married. She parties with bohos, but she clearly isn't one of them. Not yet, anyway. Nor does she seem particularly tuned into the social upheavals that are coming. That little exchange with her art guy about Malcolm X (don't remember the exact quote, but his crack about her not reading the stuff between the ads) was pretty telling.

If anything, I think that last shot was just a reminder that Pete and Peggy each still have one foot in the future and one foot in the past. And their tenuous positioning underscores a point that the show has been hammering home all season, thus far mostly through Don - that the new Sterling Cooper is still trying to decide what kind of firm it will be. Will SCDP move ahead of the times, or will the times overtake SCDP?

The answer still lies largely with Don, whose developmental arc hasn't started bending noticeably upward yet. He's still drinking way too much, and still has no clue how to make amends with poor Allison. He did, however, continue to champion Peggy's ideas for the Pond's Cold Cream ads rather than a return to Freddy's tried-and-true "it will help you find a husband!" mantra. True, Don's rejection of the latter had a lot to do with his visceral distaste for Doctor Blondie's testing methods and, by extension, his own personal junk (“you can’t tell how people are going to behave based on how they have behaved!”). But his basic insight - that to succeed advertising has to influence the consumer's wants, rather than the other way around - rings essentially true. I also couldn't help wondering if it wasn't at least partly, if unconsciously, triggered by the sight of Peggy trying on the wedding ring. He doesn't want Peggy - or SCDP - to be mired in tired old tropes and traditions, even if he hasn't figured out how to change them. Therein lies the chief challenge and source of suspense for the rest of this season.

Other random notes:

-John Slattery (aka Roger Sterling) directed this episode; perhaps as a consequence, there wasn't much Roger in it. That opening phone call with Lee Garner, Jr., however, was priceless.

-The episode was titled "The Rejected," an obviously important theme that I haven't really discussed - partly because Alan Sepinwall has preempted me with his excellent recap.

-Lots of significant, mostly uncomfortable, exchanged glances in this episode: Don and Allison through the one-way glass (awk-ward); Don and Peggy (over the wedding ring); and, of course, Pete and Peggy.

-Oh, the things Pete thought but did not say when Trudy said, “How would you know what it [fatherhood] feels like?”

-I laughed when that one secretary joked about her and Joan's exclusion from the Pond's Cold Cream focus group: “We’re old and we’re married. They don’t want us.” Joan's posture: "Bitch, please. Speak for yourself."

-Speaking of older secretaries, Don certainly had his coming to him. Joan made sure of it.

-Will Cosgrove jump ship and rejoin his old pals at SCDP? Pete will love that.

-Harry's still a bumbler. And it still doesn't seem to matter. I bet we continue to see his fortunes rise, all because he lucked into one good idea (television). C'est la vie, I guess.

-Did Life photo-girl find Peggy and her new beau hiding in a *closet* during the police raid? Food for thought there...although Peggy did seem pretty into the guy, who came across as rather charming. Not that that forecloses Peggy's experimenting. But I don't see a three-way in her future any time soon.

Best line: I love Stoned Peggy (“This film is more interesting than I thought...It’s rhythmic!”), but I have to give the prize to the little old man at the end:

"Did you get pears?"

R.I.P. Patricia Neal; a word on "Friday Night Lights" Season 4

2010-08-09T23:40:00.009-04:00

Sad news: Patricia Neal succumbed today, at the age of 84, to a long struggle with lung cancer. Her entire *life* was a struggle, stricken with tragedy after tragedy, but one she weathered, by all accounts, with courage and grace. I'm a little ashamed to admit I've only ever seen her in one movie, "Breakfast at Tiffany's" (though "A Face in the Crowd" and "Hud" are in my Netflix queue), and even more ashamed to admit that at the time I was girl-crushing too much on Audrey Hepburn to take favorable notice of the woman threatening Holly Golightly's happy ending - but I do remember my mother saying that in her heyday, Neal was as much a movie star and a renowned beauty as Audrey. And so she was.

As always, the Film Experience and the Siren have been quick to provide much more thorough and insightful tributes to a great actress and a great lady.

********

Blogging "Mad Men" sometimes makes me feel slightly guilty about not blogging the show I love just as much, if not more - "Friday Night Lights," which had its fourth season finale last week on NBC. True, FNL has never been as good as its first season, which was as perfect a season of TV as I've ever seen. The writing can be sloppy and inconsistent, and the less said about season 2, the better. But what FNL does better than any other show on TV, including "Mad Men," is create fully realized, well-balanced, yet inherently likable characters who succeed in earning and maintaining the viewers' good will. The contrast with "Mad Men" in this respect is striking: while I'm fascinated by the "Mad Men" characters and their relationship to their cultural milieu, I don't truly like very many of them and definitely don't love any of them. By contrast, I have affection for most of the characters on "FNL"; even the ones I don't like, I can sympathize with to some degree.

Season 4 presented a monumental challenge for the writers in introducing a whole new town dynamic and a raft of new supporting characters that needed to be developed over a mere 13 episodes. For the most part, they rose to the challenge. Some of the new players were more fleshed out than others - I felt that Luke, for example, got a bit of short shrift at times, probably because Coach Taylor's attention seemed generally more focused on Vince, and I'd have liked to learn a little more about Jess's dad and Jess and Vince's past - but I give full credit to the writers and actors for making the most of their limited time. Even Becky, whom I found intensely annoying, managed to get to me with the abortion storyline, which I thought was handled with remarkable sensitivity.

As for the returning characters, I still question the wisdom of keeping Matt Saracen lingering around for another season, much as I love him, and then arbitrarily dispatching him to Chicago when there was apparently nothing more to do with him. Nevertheless, he had his share of great moments - most notably the episode in which he had to bury his father and confront the demons of his suppressed resentment and bitterness. (Zach Gilford, who plays Saracen, deserved an Emmy nomination for that performance.) Meanwhile, Landry provided gold nuggets of comic relief and got his heart trampled on *again* (though one senses he'll get over Jess more easily than he did over Tyra); Julie Taylor was - well, she was just there, a believable if not particularly interesting picture of a high school senior dealing with the heartbreak of first love; and while I wasn't as invested in the travails of little-lost boy Tim Riggins, damned if he and Billy didn't end up making me cry during the season finale.

But of course the core of the show continued and continues to be Coach and Mrs. Coach Taylor, who consistently present the best-drawn, most nuanced portrait of a stable, happy marriage I've ever seen on TV. Their characters are beautifully written and even more beautifully acted, and I'm glad the Emmy voters finally saw enough sense to give Kyle Chandler and Connie Britton their long-overdue nominations. I'm even gladder I'll be seeing them - and the rest of the Dillon crew - next spring, for season 5.

"Mad Men" Ep. 4.3: "The Good News"

2010-08-08T23:43:00.010-04:00

"I can't fix anything else, but I can fix this."

Two episodes in, we've already seen Don Draper's old world order crumbling away, even as he strives to build a new one from the rubble. Now Dick Whitman's world is losing one of its main pillars of support. Meanwhile, the show's most outwardly competent and composed character sees the control she's so carefully exercised over her life slipping out of her hands. Don's and Joan's storylines, like parallel lines, never meet - but interestingly, they both intersect with that of Lane Pryce, the outsider who's now completely unmoored from all his old ties and connections.

Unifying themes notwithstanding, this had to be one of the most disjointed hours of "Mad Men" ever. Not that I didn't enjoy watching it - only that I've never seen so many abrupt tonal shifts over the course of a single episode. Some of that I can chalk up to the action moving from New York to L.A. and back again: the California interludes have always felt faintly surreal to me, partly because Don acts so differently there than he does in New York, partly because the character of Anna Draper has always seemed a little too saintly to be true. But beyond that, I felt whipsawed between half a dozen different emotions - from creeping unease to outright disgust (did you have to go there with Anna's niece, Don? Ugh) to crushing sadness about Anna (the shell-shocked look on Don's face as he absorbed the news really hit me, more than the revelation itself) to cold fear (Joan slicing her hand open, qualms about her husband's competency) to outright hilarity (Don and Lane Pryce out on the town...comedy gold!) back to unease (that last shot of Don in the conference room doesn't bode well).

To some extent the schizophrenic quality of this episode may simply reflect the chaotic, precarious state the characters are in right now. Certainly those who were front and center tonight - Don, Joan, Lane - are in a crucial, and painful, moment of transition. It's still too early to tell which way the shoe will drop, but what troubled me was a sense that they've all given up trying to control the outcome. Put another way, this episode seemed to be all about trying to fix things and discovering that some things can't be fixed. On the other hand, turning to what *can* be fixed results in small, surprisingly touching gestures that probably kept everyone (including me) from banging their heads against the wall. Don can't save Anna from cancer, but he can paint her living room - in his skivvies, no less, which she evidently appreciates. He can't fix Lane's marriage, but can take him out to amuse and distract him. Joan's husband, by his own admission, can't fix their unstable situation, but he can, after all, fix her finger.

And I have to say - Dr. Donkey Dick may be a rapist and a whiney douche to boot, but that was a moment of genuine tenderness there between them, even if he was treating her like a small child. I give the writers credit for making the guy a three-dimensional character rather than an unmitigated villain. After all, there had to be a reason Joan chose him, other than mistaking him for a better prospect than he was. And I think she does love him, despite everything, and he, in his own way, loves her. Still, gotta wonder what he'd say if he knew she'd had two abortions.

As for Don, I keep waiting for him to hit bottom, and it still hasn't happened. He at least had the grace to admit, in a rare moment of candor, that he was responsible for the collapse of his own marriage. And I truly felt for him when he realized he couldn't do anything for Anna - not even tell her the truth about her condition. (Though don't you think she already knows?) But I really wish he had kept his paws off Miss Barely-Legal, Kate Hudson-lookalike Berkeley undergrad - even though anyone could tell from the knowing look on the girl's face that she wasn't having any of it. The guy's a mess, and losing Anna is going to remove the last pin that's holding him together. Even his attempt to show Lane a good time ultimately emphasized how empty his own life has become since his divorce. I hope that Lane learns from that, and doesn't start ending his own nights with booze and hookers.

That said, I'd pay good money to see more of Don and Lane painting the town red together. Easily my favorite quarter hour of "Mad Men" so far this season, and a welcome break from all the impending tragedy and despair.

BEST LINES:

The entire discussion between Don and Lane on what movie to see. I wish I could reproduce it exactly - but anyway, some of the highlights:

Don: It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World. No kidding.

Don: Send Me No Flowers.
Lane: (Emphatically) No.

Lane: The Guns of August?
Don: I hate guns, and I hate August.

Lane: The Umbrellas of Cherbourg.
Don: (practically smacking his lips) Catherine Deneuve.

(Cut to Don and Lane, sozzled while watching a Godzilla flick)

Lane: This movie's very good!

Don: You know what's going on here? Hand jobs.

Also loved Lane's mock Japanese in response to the lady who was giving them a dirty look.

And: "YEEEEEHAWWWW!" Never did I think I'd see Lane Pryce rubbing a steak against his crotch.

"Mad Men," you so funny. More of the funny, please.

I must get last Sunday's NYT Magazine in hard copy...

2010-08-03T00:15:00.007-04:00

...because my idol, LAURA LINNEY, is the cover story.

It's a pretty good article, too, once you get past the condescending suggestion that she has yet to hit the big time. Laura Linney is one of the few actresses over 40 who IMO has achieved exactly the career she deserves. And I mean that as a compliment. She may not be getting all the obvious plum parts, à la Meryl Streep, but she's never lacking for quality work...because everyone knows how good she is.

My only complaint is that she hasn't yet won an Oscar *or* a Tony, despite being a frequent nominee.

Side note: I don't care what demons and life struggles he had to dispatch along the way - Frank Bruni is one lucky s.o.b. to jump from being the NYT food critic to interviewing & writing features on Laura Linney.

"Mad Men" Ep. 4.2: "Christmas Comes But Once a Year"

2010-08-01T23:28:00.012-04:00

Damn it, Don...why did you have to ruin the one perfectly healthy, totally professional relationship in your life?

I don't know which was more cringe-inducing, the drunken one-night stand or the awkward awkward AWKWARD interaction the morning after. Poor Allison - her expression tore at my heart.

This was a highly uncomfortable episode to watch, not least because so much of it seemed to be about someone making someone else feel like a whore: Lucky Strike Guy and Roger; Don and Allison and the ill-timed bonus; even, to a much lesser extent, kindly, well-meaning Freddy Rumsen and Peggy, his onetime protégée. Not that that either Freddy or Peggy would ever see his advice that way, and I rather like the dynamic between those two. For Peggy, Freddy's another surrogate father-figure (a kind of anti-Don), though one she's realizing she may have outgrown. But maybe not in all respects, judging from her face after she finally boinks her clueless boyfriend: is she pondering Freddy's words, old-fashioned or no?

As for Roger, we're so used to seeing him do exactly what he wants to do that it was strangely discomfiting to see him forced to act against his will - for another man's pleasure, no less. Lucky Strike Guy is a sadistic brute, and I have a feeling Roger won't be able to keep him appeased forever.

Roger's self-abasement was at least for the good of the company, which is more than I can say for Don. How jarring was it to hear one of the underlings call him "pathetic"? And yet I can't quarrel with that sneer, based on what we've seen of our hero so far this season. The Don Draper mystique is fast eroding, revealing a desperately lonely, lost man who's forgotten (if he ever knew) how to forge an emotional connection with anyone. Even calling Peggy "sweetheart" - uncharacteristic for him - felt like him clutching at such a connection. Blond research lady seems to have his number, or at least knows enough to rebuff his advances. (Don turned down twice in one episode - have the stars stopped in their courses?) At the same time, something about her weirdly personal attitude towards him reminded me of Suzanne from last season, and we all know where that ended up. Still, at this point research lady seems more like a device than a character. That whole survey of hers, Don's predictable reaction to it, and her little line about the tension between what we want and what's expected of us, all felt *way* too on the nose for me.

Tonight seemed to be the night for returning characters we never really missed: Freddy Rumsen (well, some of us may have missed Freddy), Lee Garner, Jr., and last but not least, creepy Glen! Actually, I never found Glen all that creepy before, but this time around he's definitely giving off a psychopathic vibe. Sally, alas, seems charmed, or at least intrigued, by his attentions. Probably because she sees him as expressing the rage she can't yet fully unleash. Heaven help Betty and poor old Henry Francis once she starts taking Glen as a model.

On the whole, a fairly depressing hour of "Mad Men" (which we should be used to by now), though not entirely bereft of Christmas cheer. Among the bright spots:

-Joan at her most brilliant as mistress of ceremonies and queen of the conga line
-Pete's ridiculous crimson smoking jacket, or whatever it was he was wearing at the party.
-Harry sitting on Santa Roger's lap and mumbling apologies out of the side of his mouth
-Allison reading Don Sally's letter to Santa. That was sweet. (And then Don had to go and piss all over it.)
-New yet familiar TV faces: Dr. Anspaugh from "ER"! (Less excited about the saucer-eyed chick who plays Don's nurse neighbor; she's almost *too* familiar, having been in so many other things - "Heroes," "Everwood," the movie "Brick," apparently also "Grey's Anatomy," which I don't watch. It's a little distracting.)
-The passing gripe about Medicare. Subtle? No. Relevant? Hell, yes.

Best line/exchange:

Don (in goofy German accent): Did you enjoy the Führer's birthday?
Roger (in equally goofy German accent): May he live a thousand years.

Runner-up:
Lee Garner, Jr., on receiving a present from "Santa": You didn't have to!
Lane Pryce (aside): Yes, we did.

Second runner-up: I don't remember the exact exchange, but Peggy's idiot bf's jabbering about the Swedish way of love, and her curt retort - "You're never going to get me to do anything Swedish people do."

"Salt" Has Savor, Not Substance; "Agora" Makes Philosophy Sexy and Tragic

2010-08-01T19:43:00.006-04:00

SALT

directed by Philip Noyce
starring Angelina Jolie, Liev Schreiber, Chiwetel Ejiofor

Preposterous plot? Check. Implausible twists? Check. Paper-thin characters? Check. A fun ride? You bet.

“Salt” is a triumph of style over substance. Not just Angelina Jolie’s style, though that’s obviously a key component. But it wouldn’t be enough without the support of her co-stars and, most of all, the savvy of director Philip Noyce. While there’s no hiding the high cheese factor, what could have been pure Velveeta instead tastes more like a sharp, bracing cheddar.

After a grim opening in North Korea – Hollywood’s last bastion of faceless totalitarian villainy – the film quickly gets to the main point: a mysterious Russian man identifies CIA agent Evelyn Salt (Jolie) as a mole tasked with assassinating the president of Russia. Never mind why a Russian spy would want to kill her own president (the writers don’t concern themselves very much with this point); the real question, on which the movie expends most of its energy, is that of Salt’s loyalty. Is she a double agent, or isn’t she? Her closest colleague, Ted (Liev Schreiber, doing his usual sturdy, understated good work), insists she isn’t; a less sympathetic counterintelligence specialist (Chiwetel Ejiofor, engaging as always) concludes rather peremptorily that she is.

To be fair, Salt’s behavior isn’t that of an innocent woman: after a desperate attempt to find her husband (August Diehl), she goes on the lam and heads straight for the Russian president’s next known destination, taking out a bunch of other agents and enforcement officers along the way. Chase follows spectacular chase, in various forms – foot, cars, motorbike – as the action shifts from D.C. to New York and back again, and shifting with it, our interpretation of Salt’s motives. There’s a twist or two, of course, and an ending that leaves the door wide open for a sequel, but nothing that an alert viewer can’t anticipate. The entertainment definitely lies in the journey, not the destination.

Make no mistake, “Salt” is pure fantasy, though it may have acquired a veneer of unexpected topicality after the FBI’s recent, uncannily well-timed bust of a ring of Russian spies masquerading as ordinary Americans. Certainly there’s an echo of that bizarre story in the tall tale Salt’s accuser spins of schools of Russians who are rigorously trained to assume the identities of upstanding American citizens and wait for years before moving into action. At the same time, there’s something endearingly old-school about the movie’s resurrection of classic Cold War film tropes of Communist brain-washing and sleeper agents. (The only reference to the more current bugaboo of choice, Muslim fanatics, is a throwaway line that, whether intentionally or not, plays for laughs.)

Noyce doesn’t take these hoary Soviet-era themes too seriously, but to his credit, neither does he wink and nudge the audience—at least not overtly. Rather, he adopts a businesslike approach to a wholly improbable plot: his business is to keep viewers on the edge of their seats and guessing what happens next, and in this he succeeds admirably. The Austrialian director is an old hand at the art of maintaining suspense, dating back all the way to his 1989 killer-thriller “Dead Calm,” and he’s had practice with the espionage flick, having twice directed Harrison Ford as Tom Clancy’s Jack Ryan in “Patriot Games” and “Clear and Present Danger.” (Sadly, he was also responsible for Val Kilmer’s unfortunate turn as the big-screen version of “The Saint,” one of the dumbest movies I’ve ever seen.) Noyce has since moved on to more serious, politically and socially conscious films, e.g., “Rabbit-Proof Fence” and the very fine “The Quiet American,” but “Salt” shows he hasn’t lost any of the skills that propelled him into the big time. He understands, maybe better than anyone else in the business, how to pace a film like this and how to shoot a bang-up action sequence—crisp, tight, and crackling with tension—with a minimum of actual bang and boom.

He also knows how to use Jolie’s star power, which is obviously the force that drives the movie. “Salt” was originally written with Tom Cruise in mind for the lead, and the critical consensus is that had he in fact accepted it, the movie would have been a failure. I concur, although I resisted at first: why would a warmed-over James Bond/Mission Impossible-derivative thriller be any fresher or more effective with Angelina Jolie instead of Tom Cruise? It isn’t just because Jolie’s a woman (this is hardly the first time she’s played action heroine, after all), or because her star wattage is higher (debatable, though one can make a decent case for it). Perhaps it has something to do with the air of mystery that’s always pervaded Jolie’s persona and that serves her particularly well with this character (Charles Taylor has some perceptive thoughts on this). Perhaps it’s the fierce conviction with which she attacks the role yet somehow manages to make it look easy—something Cruise has never been particularly good at doing. I’m not talking about the physical stunts so much as the shifts in mood, expression, and bearing Salt undergoes over the course of the movie. (Don’t get me wrong, Cruise can be effortless in certain parts, but in others—and Salt, I think, would have been one of them—you can feel him working really hard at it, which can be a bit of a drag.)

And perhaps Jolie’s success does have something to do with the role’s gender reversal—again, not so much with respect to Salt’s superhuman physical abilities, but rather in the depiction of her marital relationship. That dynamic, which would have been merely trite if Salt had been a male agent with a vulnerable, loving wife, suddenly becomes more intriguing in the context of a female agent with a vulnerable, loving husband. “Salt” isn’t the kind of movie that has either the time or the inclination to carve out much emotional depth, yet Jolie manages to infuse it with something resembling pathos without giving the entire game away. Hence, even as we roll our eyes at the silliness of every plot turn, we stay invested in who this woman is, and what she’s really up to, right up to the absurd, adrenaline-soaked end.

GRADE: B

AGORA

directed by Alejandro Amenábar
starring Rachel Weisz, Max Minghella, Oscar Isaac, Rupert Evans, others

A star vehicle of a wholly different sort, “Agora” also happens to be the most provocative film I’ve seen all year. Sadly, it probably won’t find more than a tiny fraction of the audience that “Salt” drew in its first week alone, and it isn’t the kind of small picture that’s likely to take off through word of mouth: its ostensible subject, the life and times of a female mathematician and philosopher in fourth-century Alexandria, is a little too esoteric, even as its broader themes are a little too controversial. Moreover, “Agora” lacks critical buzz, having failed to gather momentum when it made the film festival rounds, and even though it’s been substantially edited for its theatrical release, the reviews have continued to be mixed.

That’s a shame, for while the film has undeniable flaws, it raises important, intelligent questions and explores them in a generally intelligent and engaging way. Directed by the talented Alejandro Amenábar (“The Sea Inside,” “The Others,” “Open Your Eyes”), “Agora” depicts the gradual yet inevitable, violence-streaked conversion of a renowned seat of classical learning to de facto Christian rule, as seen from the viewpoint of Hypatia (Rachel Weisz), a beautiful, brilliant scholar of mathematics, astronomy, and philosophy, and three of her acolytes—bold Orestes (Oscar Isaac), quiet Synesius (Rupert Evans), and even quieter Davus (Max Minghella), who also happens to be a slave in Hypatia’s house. All four end up following different paths that reflect their divergent attitudes towards the growing power of Christianity—yet each of them is forced to confront the contradiction that Hypatia succinctly sums up in a conversation with Synesius, an early adopter of Christianity who later becomes a bishop: “You do not question what you believe, or cannot. I must.”

“Agora” takes its time to get going and feels at first like a rather flat – though very good-looking – costume pageant. Against a backdrop of handsome, discreetly CGI-enhanced sets that quite effectively convey the grandeur of classical Alexandria, Amenábar introduces his key players with some stiff, clunky dialogue, and sets up the central conflict with none-too-subtle visual contrasts between the white-robed pagan aristocrats and the blue-clad Christians, who mostly belong to the poor and disenfranchised. (There’s a strong suggestion throughout the film that the success of Christianity rested in large part on these class tensions.) He’s also far too fond of punctuating his scenes with “mother Earth” shots that zoom out to the cosmos, as if to contrast its infinite vastness with the groping attempts of man to explain, define, or limit it. But as the balance of power in Alexandria shifts decisively towards the Christians, the film acquires an increased urgency and sense of foreboding. It isn’t long before we realize that Hypatia and everything she stands for—the gospel of pure scholarship, with its devotion to no god but learning, and rule by reason rather than faith—is doomed, her cool, quiet appeal to the intellect no match for the impassioned, all-consuming fire of religious conviction.

Weisz gives a luminous, if not particularly complex, performance as Hypatia: she’s less a character than a prism through which the film views the events that overtook her and, by extension, Alexandria. Amenábar, who wrote the screenplay with Weisz in mind for the lead, plainly intends her to be the film’s moral center. Yet as “Agora” is structured, it’s as much about her students – or more accurately, perhaps, their evolving attitudes towards her, and what they portend for their city – as it is about Hypatia herself. If Hypatia symbolizes the brain of Alexandria, guardian of its intellectual tradition and legacy, then Orestes and Synesius represent its divided heart, and young Davus its even more divided soul. And it’s the struggle for that soul, in particular, that’s reflected in the trajectory of Davus’ feelings towards Hypatia: from the very outset it’s clear he’s silently besotted with her but frustrated at the inconsistency between her kindly treatment of him as a bright pupil and his status as chattel, and irresistibly drawn to the egalitarian promise of Christianity. There’s a crisis moment, fairly on, when Hypatia treats him with the kind of imperious contempt that could only be reserved for a slave. It’s an uncharacteristic and, frankly, unconvincing aberration on Hypatia’s part, obviously a narrative device to force a turning point for Davus. But even after his break with her, we see that some part of him will always yearn for his old mistress, and the film follows that inner conflict to its bitter end.

Not surprisingly, “Agora” has given rise to some complaints that it’s biased against religion in general and Christianity in particular. It’s not a baseless accusation, but it’s not an entirely fair one, either. While I’m no historian, much less an expert on this particular period of history, from what I’ve been able to gather the movie’s account is reasonably accurate: at least, most of the major characters, except for Davus, were real historical figures, and most of the major events it recounts really happened (except, perhaps, its suggestion that Hypatia anticipated the discoveries of Johannes Kepler). True, Amenábar has a tendency to idealize Hypatia (how can you not, when you cast Rachel Weisz?) and, by contrast, makes the film’s most powerful Christian figure—Cyril, the patriarch of Alexandria—into a pretty one-dimensional villain. And certainly one could read any number of disquieting allegories for our current, troubled times into the brutality of “Agora”’s religious conflicts, the mob mentality exhibited by enraged Christians, and the ignorant and intolerant persecution of Hypatia and all that she embodies. However, what the film ultimately condemns is not religious faith per se, but the abuse of faith and the manipulation of religious emotions as a means to power. One would be hard pressed to dispute the value of that message today, or indeed at any other point in human history. It’s timely, but it’s also timeless.

GRADE: B+

"Mad Men" Season 4 Premiere: "Public Relations"

2010-07-26T22:45:00.011-04:00

"Mad Men" has always been a slow-burn kind of show. The season never starts with a bang; instead, the first episode is invariably about setup - reintroducing us to the characters, establishing where they are in relation to where they were, and laying the groundwork for future narrative developments. Season 4 stuck to this pattern, which works just fine for me. However, it doesn't leave me with much to say about the premiere other than these scattershot observations:

Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce: New digs! Closer quarters than we're accustomed to seeing our Mad Men (and women) occupy; but still a prime location in the Time Life Building. Overall, it's hard to tell how the firm's really doing. Up and coming, yes; secure, no.

Who is Don Draper?: Who indeed. Good luck, one-legged man; we've been trying to figure that one out for years.

The new Don looks, talks, and walks much like the old one, but people aren't falling all over themselves for him anymore. Is he off his game, or has the game simply changed? On the whole I lean towards the latter view, and I have faith Don will pick up on the new rules. Clearly, it'll take some time - the man so good at selling his product still has a good deal to learn when it comes to selling himself - but he certainly seemed to be coming around by the end of the episode with the Wall Street Journal interview. As for his blow-up with Jantzen, on the one hand it was uncharacteristic behavior for him (and costly for SCDP); on the other hand, I'm not so sure we aren't supposed to see him as right and Jantzen as wrong, or at least wrong for SCDP.

As for Don's personal life, it's true he's not scoring with the ease he's accustomed to, but then I wouldn't expect a divorced man to have the same perverse appeal (or target market) as a married man. I expect he'll learn to adapt in this arena, too, though it's obvious he hasn't lost his madonna/whore complex when it comes to women.

Roger Sterling: Insouciant and incorrigible as always, the old Roger appears to be back, along with some semblance of the old Roger-Don dynamic. Be interesting to see how that relationship evolves.

Bert Cooper: Still as sharp as ever, and as eccentric - I love his rationale for no conference table.

Pete Campbell: Pete seems more comfortable in his own skin and looks like he's enjoying the challenge of launching a start-up firm. Still, I had to laugh when he jumped to thank one-legged man for his service in Korea. That's our Pete, smarmy as ever.

Peggy and her boy(s): Peggy continues to acquire greater poise and self-assurance, and to stand up to Don when necessary. She is, however, as exasperatingly inscrutable as ever. Glad to see she and Pete have learned to work together, even if it's over dumb publicity stunts with hams. (Side note - was the ham an in-joke for those who remember Jon Hamm hawking ham on Saturday Night Live?) And she seems to have a comfortable rapport with the cute new art guy (Matt Long, whom I remember from the WB's short-lived "Jack and Bobby"). Will sparks fly? But who's the guy who claims to be her fiancé? Ah, Peggy - always the dark horse.

Deep-fried Harry: In his brief appearance, sporting a lovely John Boehner-esque shade of orange, Harry doesn't give any sign he's become more competent... but we'll see. If he doesn't shape up quickly, I hope Joan pushes him out.

Mostly MIA: Lane Pryce and Joan. Presumably they'll have more to do in future eps.

In the household of Henry Francis: Oh, Betty. It's hard for me to defend you when your idea of disciplining Sally is to force-feed her and then rush her from the table and pinch her when she protests. And you really need to stop trying to get "even" with Don, now that you're free of him. That said, I'm already on your side when it comes to dearest Mother-in-Law. That woman is a biatch. Battles loom ahead.

Henry himself came off ok in this episode, all things considered, but trouble is definitely already brewing in that marriage. I hope his mom doesn't make him regret his decision. Wonder what kind of relationship, if any, will develop between Betty and Henry's daughter? Henry and the Draper children? I am not optimistic - this is "Mad Men," after all. Hoping to see more of Bobby - it *is* the same actor as last season, right? Both of the kids have grown a lot since then.

All in all, a quiet episode, but one that's definitely sown some promising seeds - per usual for "Mad Men."

"Inception" of a Summer Turnaround? "Kids" Provide Easy, Breezy Counterpoint

2010-07-19T22:15:00.016-04:00

INCEPTION

written and directed by Christopher Nolan
starring Leonardo di Caprio, Ellen Page, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Tom Hardy, Dileep Rao, Marion Cotillard, Ken Watanabe, Cillian Murphy, Michael Caine, Pete Postlethwaite, others

Love it or hate it, Chris Nolan’s latest head trip has become the must-see movie of the summer. And with reason, for it’s that rarest of beasts—a blockbuster with intellectual and philosophical ambitions. “Inception” is on track to becoming the “Matrix” of this decade (one hopes without any awful sequels in its wake): the kind of water-cooler conversation piece that’s already entered our pop culture zeitgeist. But is it worth seeing? Does it live up to the hype?

I’d say yes to the first question, no to the second. Truth be told, I enjoyed thinking about the movie afterwards more than I enjoyed actually watching it.

This isn’t really a slam. Nor is it a compliment.

“Inception” is a vaguely futuristic, more than vaguely noir-ish tale of an expert dream thief, Dom Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio), who, for the right price, can infiltrate an individual’s subconscious and “extract” his or her most deeply guarded secret. A mysterious utilities magnate named Saito (Ken Watanabe) solicits Dom’s services for a different kind of job: not extraction but inception, whereby an idea is introduced into the subject’s subconscious. Saito’s target is a young man named Robert Fischer (Cillian Murphy), son and heir of a dying business rival (Pete Postlethwaite); his goal, to persuade Fischer to break up his father’s conglomerate. The hitch? It turns out inception is far more difficult than extraction and may even be impossible, because (according to the movie’s logic) the mind can nearly always detect and reject the presence of a foreign idea. (Kinda like an organ transplant, I guess.)

Impossible or not, Saito makes Cobb an offer he can’t refuse, and Cobb sets about assembling a literal dream team, including Arthur (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), his trusty right-hand man; Eames (Tom Hardy), a master identity “forger”; Yusuf (Dileep Rao), a chemist capable of concocting sleeping meds potent enough to create three dream levels (a dream within a dream within a dream, the only way to plant the idea deeply enough to escape detection); and newbie Ariadne (Ellen Page), a green but talented “architect,” whose task is to design a fake dream-world for the subject, convincing enough to pass for his own, which his subconscious will then fill in for itself. Monitored by Saito, who decides to come along for the ride, the team tracks down Fischer and enters his mind. Unfortunately, they discover in short order that (1) Fischer’s subconscious has been fortified against intruders with some formidable defenses (which mainly take the form of an endless stream of silent, well-armed goons), (2) Cobb’s own considerable psychological baggage, embodied in the recurring image of his dead ex-wife, Mal (Marion Cotillard, competing with Page for least subtle symbolic name in the movie), threatens to hijack and undermine the entire enterprise.

Some have described “Inception” as a “reverse heist” flick, or “Ocean’s Eleven” as imagined by Philip K. Dick. It’s an apt enough description, though one that frankly makes the film sound more fun than it is. Thematically, “Inception” borrows not only from Nolan’s earlier, breakthrough film “Memento,” but from a long cinematic tradition that enjoyed its most recent surge in the late ’90s (not just “The Matrix,” but lesser known movies like “Dark City,” David Cronenberg’s “eXistenZ,” and the underrated “The Thirteenth Floor”), though its roots reach back to “Blade Runner,” and even further back, to the original “Solaris.” These movies all in one way or another spring from the same set of questions that most of us tend to keep safely tucked away in our subconscious: Am I real? Is everything I see, do, and feel real, or is it all a dream—an illusion? And to paraphrase Lewis Carroll, is it even my dream? Perhaps most intriguingly, what are the true implications of memory, our memories being so unreliable and yet so integral to our identities—are they, too, illusions, or merely distorted snapshots of our real, lived experience?

Of course, just because these questions aren’t original doesn’t make them any less provocative; what matters is how artfully they’re presented. In this respect, however, “Inception” only partially succeeds. There’s no doubt it’s exceedingly carefully crafted. I’m just not convinced it’s particularly well crafted. That’s not to say there aren’t well-crafted things in it, most of them purely visual: Nolan shows a liberal hand with haunting images, eye-popping effects (especially during Ariadne’s training), and virtuosic set pieces that bend the rules of time and space no less daringly than the Wachowksi brothers did in “The Matrix.” Yet the narrative gets bogged down by its own internal mechanics—specifically, the cogs and wheels governing the process of dream thievery, which I found clunky and unnecessarily complicated, notwithstanding the gobs of expository dialogue (mostly carried by Ariadne) that are clearly intended to help the viewer along. It also suffers from increasingly tedious action sequences, which, as the film goes on, tend to drag on longer and longer, degenerating from an early, genuinely pulse-pounding yet eerily dreamlike footchase to a seemingly interminable, deadly-dull shootout between faceless men on skis.

More generally, the film lacks that jolt of pure elation that offset “The Matrix”’s tendency towards ponderousness—that exhilarating sense of the limitless possibilities of the human mind. There are a few moments early on—again, during Ariadne’s training, when her imagination is allowed to play—when “Inception” gestures towards this feeling, but fails to sustain it. Tellingly, when Ariadne, explaining why she agrees to join the team, describes the architect's work as “pure creation,” those two words just fall flat. Worse, what follows feels less like creation and more like a military exercise bound by rigid yet confusing rules.

As for those rules, it may well be that I was simply slow on the uptake and they’re really not that hard to follow. Still, even if most of my fellow viewers, unlike me, had little or no trouble keeping up, I suspect most of them spent more mental energy on the arbitrary and really rather silly logistics of dream-invasion than the broader and far more interesting implications of the universe it opens up: of appropriating someone else’s dream, sharing dream space (or “limbo,” a state beyond dreaming that’s never fully defined), or getting quite literally lost in—or addicted to—one’s own dreams. These metaphysical concepts are present just enough to tantalize us, but tend to get crowded out by the machinery of extraction and inception. Arguably it’s enough that the seeds are sown; perhaps Nolan’s succeeded in doing a bit of his own inception. After all, there’s no doubt that most viewers, including me, will find themselves pondering and discussing the bigger questions—the boundaries between reality, fantasy, and memory—long after the movie’s deliberately, cheekily ambiguous final scene. But I’d have liked to see deeper probing of these themes over the course of the movie itself, which too often felt frantically busy yet oddly inconsequential.

Ultimately what saved “Inception” for me, at least while I was watching it, wasn’t its physics or its metaphysics, but Cobb’s struggle to free himself from the burden of his guilt. Nolan and DiCaprio both have a thing for overly tortured heroes (side note: I would like to see Leo do a romantic comedy some time soon, just for a change), but in this context all that anguished brow-furrowing actually works. Some critics have complained that the film, while intellectually stimulating, left them emotionally cold. The opposite was true for me. It was Cobb’s pain, above all else, that cut through all my back-of-the-brain fussing about “kicks,” totems, and how exactly one escapes limbo, and gave the whole structure of the film any meaning. Cotillard, as the projection of all that pain, makes the most of her underwritten character, cutting a figure by turns dangerously alluring, dangerously psychotic, and dangerously tragic. The rest of the cast, alas, is given even less to work with; it’s to the actors’ credit that they contribute as much as they do, with Cobb’s teammates providing most of the film’s meager comic relief, and Murphy lending a quiet but effective pathos to his character’s thinly sketched daddy issues. In the end, almost despite itself, the film’s heart matters more than its brain. And I’m willing to bet that’s exactly what Nolan, that solemn, soul-searching trickster, intended all along.

GRADE: B/B+

THE KIDS ARE ALL RIGHT

directed by Lisa Cholodenko
starring Annette Bening, Julianne Moore, Mark Ruffalo, Mia Wasikowska

I saw “The Kids Are All Right” a couple of days after I saw “Inception,” and I have to admit it felt like a nice sorbet after a rather heavy pot roast. That’s not to suggest that it’s either a better film or, conversely, a less substantial one. There’s no denying, however, that it’s much lighter in tone and frequently laugh-out-loud funny, though in no way a pure comedy.

“The Kids Are All Right” chronicles one tumultuous summer in the life of an outwardly stable, happy Los Angeles suburban family. To the casual eye, Nic, a doctor, and Jules, a homemaker who’s flirted with various careers over the years, clearly love each other and are blessed with two remarkably well-adjusted teenage children: Joni, a straight-A student, bound for college in the fall, and Laser (yes, that’s really his name), an all-around high school athlete with perhaps questionable taste in friends but no sign of any deeper trouble. Something, however, is troubling Laser, and goes on to trouble his family: the identity of his biological father. It’s never been a secret to the children that their “bio-dad” was a sperm donor; but Laser wants, if possible, to know who he is, and enlists his sister’s help in finding out. They discover that bio-dad is an attractive, personable man who still lives in the area (and runs a trendy organic restaurant, no less!), and in due course seek to incorporate him into their family. Complications ensue that ultimately test and fracture Nic and Jules’ marriage.

The twist on this story, of course, is that Nic and Jules (played by Annette Bening and Julianne Moore) are lesbians. Director Lisa Cholodenko (“High Art,” “Laurel Canyon”) assumes a matter-of-fact attitude towards their sexuality, and the film unfolds as a largely apolitical dramedy about the dynamics of marriage and parent-child relationships. I say “largely,” because sexuality—both lesbian and hetero—does play an important role in the plot, though not in a way you might expect. (And not to spoil anyone’s expectations, but there are no hot lesbian sex scenes in the movie. There are sex scenes involving Mark Ruffalo, on which I will discreetly take the Fifth Amendment.)

“The Kids Are All Right” is a witty, likable film that does many things right, the first and foremost being casting: in addition to Bening and Moore, it stars Ruffalo as bio-dad Paul, while the gifted Mia Wasikowska (“Alice in Wonderland,” HBO’s “In Treatment”) and Josh Hutcherson play the children. Wasikowska and Hutcherson acquit themselves respectably as mostly well-behaved teenagers who are still perfectly capable of being brats. The adults, however, are the standouts in this film; in fact, their acting is so good it almost, but not quite, succeeds in masking some fundamental problems in the writing. As scripted, both Nic and Jules are drawn with fairly broad brushstrokes—Nic as the uptight control freak, Jules as, well, the opposite—and some of Jules’ behavior may strike many viewers as downright unrealistic. Yet somehow Bening and Moore make a believable couple, forced by an outsider to confront the fault lines in their marriage. Similarly, that outsider, Paul, functions more as a catalyst than a fully developed character in his own right; yet Ruffalo’s portrayal is so nuanced that you barely notice how contrived his role is—or the fact that Paul is basically a slightly (but only slightly) less feckless version of Ruffalo’s character in “You Can Count on Me.”

Somewhat ironically for a movie that’s bound to arouse the ire of the family values crowd, I came away thinking “Kids” was unexpectedly conservative in its views on marriage and parenting. I also couldn’t help thinking that in reaching the conclusion it did, it was too hard on one of the characters and far too easy on another. Still, even if the film’s resolution ends up being overly tidy without being particularly fair, it doesn’t take away from the sheer delight of watching three brilliant actors bring their flawed characters to messy, vibrant life.

GRADE: B/B+

Tilda Swinton IS "Love"; "Ondine" coasts on Irish charm

2010-06-28T22:36:00.005-04:00

I AM LOVE

directed by Luca Guadagnino
starring Tilda Swinton, Flavio Parente, Edoardo Gabbriellini, Marisa Berenson, Alba Rohrwacher, Pippo Delbono, others

If ever there were a person who could make a vanity project worth watching, it would be Tilda Swinton. Unfortunately, “I Am Love” never amounts to more than a gilded showcase for her strange, almost alien beauty and her dazzling acting chops. It’s watchable, yes. But I, for one, couldn’t find much “there” there, though I know the film has passionate advocates who would strongly disagree with me.

Swinton, whose collaboration with director Luca Guadagnino spanned several years, stars as Emma Recchi, the Russian-born wife of a wealthy Italian industrialist who falls into a torrid affair with her son’s friend, a brilliant chef and aspiring restaurateur. If this all sounds like a cliché, that’s because it is. Originality is not really the point of “I Am Love.” Nor, apparently, is subtlety. Scenes of lovemaking and sexual epiphany are flanked by shots of orgasmically luscious-looking food and verdant nature, including (I kid you not)a bee pollinating the garden, and the dramatic climax is punctuated by an overly insistent ostinato that reaffirms a point proven by the equally over-scored “The Hours”: that a critically acclaimed classical composer (in this case, John Adams rather than Philip Glass) isn’t always the best fit for a movie.

More problematically, for all these visual and aural signifiers of passion, the thing itself is curiously absent. Swinton gives an excellent performance as a pale porcelain shell of a woman who’s gradually animated by her illicit liaison (it’s surely no accident she shares a first name with Madame Bovary), yet her Emma is too thinly written, too elusive to elicit from the audience the same emotions that overmaster her, while Antonio remains even more opaque, if not totally inscrutable. The other major players in Emma’s life—her son, daughter, husband, in-laws—are no more fully realized, despite the best efforts of the actors. It doesn’t help that there’s an oddly detached, anthropological quality to Guadagnino’s filmmaking that doesn’t quite mesh with his lush, Sirkian palette. Romantic pretensions notwithstanding, “I Am Love” is all gorgeous surfaces—the food and gardens, the architectural dream that is the Recchi family mansion, the exquisite cut and material of Emma’s clothes—and not much else.

GRADE: B/B-

ONDINE

directed by Neil Jordan
starring Colin Farrell, Alicja Bachleda, Stephen Rea, Alison Barry

A slight, sweet tidbit of a film, Neil Jordan’s “Ondine” doesn’t aspire to be much more than a modest pleasure—nor is there any particular reason it should. There’s a place for this kind of movie, even if it’s just a small, quiet corner of the cinema world that not many will seek out. Colin Farrell stars as an Irish fisherman named Syracuse (“Circus” to his friends and neighbors), who pulls a beautiful, half-dead woman (Alicja Bachleda, Farrell’s real-life companion) out of the sea one day and manages to revive her, but has less success getting her to tell him anything about herself or how she ended up in his fishing nets. She tells him to call her by the suitably allegorical name of Ondine, tries to avoid interacting with the rest of the townsfolk, and soon brings him good fortune: as she sings in a strange tongue, legions of fish fill his nets. All this convinces young Annie, Syracuse’s angel-faced, severely ill daughter, that Ondine is a selkie (mythical creatures who can change from seals to women by taking off and hiding their sealskin); Ondine plays along with Annie to avoid giving straight answers, and though Syracuse, who’s taken his share of life’s hard knocks, including a bitter divorce and a hard-won struggle with alcoholism, knows better, he can’t help half-believing this gorgeous, kindly creature really is some kind of magical gift to him and to Annie.

Beautifully shot by cinematographer Christopher Doyle (best known for his work for Wong Kar-Wai), “Ondine” also benefits from having two very appealing figures at its center—I mean Syracuse and Annie, more than the titular Ondine, though the latter is effective enough as a projection of both their wistful fantasies. As I’ve said before, I’ve never been a fan of Colin Farrell, but he’s been growing on me in the last few years and exudes a wry, low-key charm here that makes it easy to understand why Ondine, whether selkie or merely woman on the run, might want to sojourn a while with him. Newcomer Alison Barry is equally fetching as young Annie, who’s at once innocent and precocious without being the least bit annoying. As for the plot, it takes a few turns that don’t really add much to the story, and I’m still not quite sure how I feel about the ending. I’d rather expected the film to remain open-ended, allowing viewers to decide for themselves Ondine’s true nature. Not so: Jordan answers the question clearly and unambiguously, and while this might be less of a cliché, it comes as a mild disappointment after the delicate balance he’s maintained up till that point between grim reality and whimsical fancy. Still, “Ondine” stays with you in its gentle, understated way, and may be just the tonic for those who’ve had their fill of louder, gaudier, or more convoluted Hollywood products.

GRADE: B

"Toy Story 3": All the World's a Toybox

2010-06-22T01:15:00.009-04:00

TOY STORY 3

directed by Lee Unkrich
voices of Tom Hanks, Tim Allen, Joan Cusack, Wallace Shawn, Don Rickles, Estelle Harris, Ned Beatty, Michael Keaton, others

There was a period in my childhood when I shared my bed every night with six stuffed animals. And beyond those six were at least as many more that I played with regularly during the day, constructing elaborate narratives around their imaginary lives. Like most people, I eventually stopped playing with my stuffed animals—but I never gave them up completely. They took up residence in my bedroom closet, and stayed there even after I left home. My mother occasionally asks me if she can donate them somewhere, and I always say no.

Anyone who’s ever had a similar experience is sure to respond emotionally to “Toy Story 3,” which opens with Andy, beloved owner of our old friends Woody, Buzz Lightyear, et al., packing for college. As he prepares to turn his room over to his little sister, he's faced with deciding what to do with all his old stuff, including his old toys, which he hasn’t played with in years. His mother, as mothers do, gives him three choices: attic, trash, or donation.

Andy makes his choice, but things don’t go exactly as planned. After a series of unfortunate events, Woody and company find themselves at Sunnyside Daycare, where they receive an initially warm welcome from a new cast of toys, including a pink “Lots-o-Hugging” bear that smells like strawberries, a “Big Baby” doll, worse for much wear, and a Ken doll who’s immediately smitten with the newcomer Barbie. Alas, Sunnyside turns out to be a much darker place than its name suggests, and our scrappy band is soon plotting an escape as desperate as it is daring.

Moviegoers suffering from summer sequel fatigue can set to rest any doubts that Pixar's oldest franchise needed a third installment. “Toy Story 3” is fresh, funny, and wonderfully entertaining, but most amazingly, it feels necessary. Somehow the filmmakers turn what could have been a marker of the movie’s irrelevance—the 11-year gap since “Toy Story 2”—into a key reason for its resonance. For all its jollity, visual candy, and rollicking action, TS3 at its core is about something deeply serious. It’s about saying goodbye to childhood, a theme with particular poignancy for what I’m convinced is the film’s true target audience—namely, the kids who grew up with Andy, and with Harry Potter, and like them are only just now beginning to be adults. But its appeal obviously extends to anyone who’s ever made that transition.

“Toy Story 3” isn’t perfect, nor is it quite top-tier Pixar—admittedly a high bar to clear. The writers occasionally try too hard for laughs: I could have done without the extended joke of Buzz in Spanish-language mode, and with a little less ribbing of Ken and Barbie. The plot has its share of lapses in logic, and there’s no denying it stays pretty squarely within the classic Pixar mold: an unlikely alliance culminating in a madcap rescue/pursuit sequence, followed by a sweetly sentimental affirmation of the relationships developed over the course of the film.

Still, for every device or development that feels overly familiar, there’s a creative touch that’s purely exhilarating, like the zany, almost Surrealist sight gag of Mr. Potato-Head’s features fanned out on a tortilla (yes, a tortilla) and skittering away from a hungry bird, or unexpectedly chilling (if you’re like me and dolls give you the creeps, that Big Baby might give you nightmares.) And though the last scene teeters dangerously close to schmaltz, damned if I didn’t have a tear in my eye at the end, without the vague annoyance I usually feel when I’m being emotionally manipulated. Because there’s something about it, excessive "aww" factor aside, that really captures the bittersweetness of growing up and moving on to another stage of life. We take the memories with us, and leave the rest behind.

GRADE: B+

N.B: Don't bother seeing this movie in 3D. It's totally not worth the extra money, and I'm not just saying that because I'm a 3D skeptic.

Argentina's "Secret" is Out; Belated R.I.P., Dennis Hopper; A Word on the "Lost" Finale

2010-06-01T00:28:00.011-04:00

EL SECRETO DE SUS OJOS
(The Secret in Their Eyes)

directed by Juan José Campanella
starring Soledad Villamil, Ricardo Darin, Guillermo Francella, Javier Godino, Pablo Rago

Congratulations, Foreign Film Oscar voters: you didn’t embarrass yourself this year. In fact, your choice was actually pretty good.

If that sounds like damning with faint praise, it’s not meant to be. The Academy is, after all, notoriously reliable for bypassing the edgy, innovative, and avant-garde in favor of the tried, true, and tired, and in no category (not even Best Picture) is this tendency more evident than foreign film. The result, no doubt exacerbated by the Academy’s confusing and byzantine eligibility rules, has been a number of fairly egregious omissions in past nominations, as well as some dismally undeserved laurels for mediocre films. Not so this year. Argentina’s winning entry, the richly romantic “El secreto de sus ojos” (The Secret in Their Eyes), may not have been the best foreign picture of 2009, or even the best among the year’s nominees, but its pull is undeniable.

Part murder mystery, part love story, mixed with a dollop of Argentinian political history, the film works best at the level of character rather than plot. Ironic, then, that it’s framed as a story about one man’s attempt to craft a narrative—or more precisely, to take up an unfinished one and give it a satisfactory ending. The man’s name is Benjamin Esposito (Ricardo Darín), and as we learn at the outset, he’s an ex-prosecutor who’s spent the last two decades trying unsuccessfully not to brood over the One That Got Away. Make that the two that got away, even if he’s only willing to speak directly about the more sordid, less romantic one: the brutal rape and murder of a beautiful young girl, back in the ’70s, which he investigated and thought he’d solved—only to see his case gutted for reasons well above his pay grade. Esposito’s other, much more beguiling, OTGA is Irene (Soledad Villamil), a former colleague who was his supervisor on the case, and for whom he clearly still carries a torch. He tells Irene, now a judge, that he’s writing a book about the case, and proceeds to reopen ye olde can(s) of worms. As the film unfolds in a series of flashbacks interspersed with cuts to the present day, we slowly learn what went down twenty-five years ago and follow Esposito as he resumes his search for the truth.

Based on a novel by Eduardo Sacheri and directed with panache by Juan José Campanella, “The Secret in Their Eyes” has the trappings and some of the stylistic flourishes of a crime thriller. The plotting, however, is ultimately a bit of a letdown, notwithstanding its incorporation of—and not-so-subtle commentary on—the political corruption of the era that undermined our protagonists’ quest for justice. Again, its strength lies more in its vividly drawn cast of characters, including the murdered girl’s grief-stricken husband (Pablo Rago), the menacing prime suspect (Javier Godino), and, most memorably, Esposito’s perpetually drunk but not dim-witted subordinate, Pablo Sandoval (Guillermo Francella). The acerbic ripostes and odd-couple dynamic between Esposito and Sandoval are welcome comic relief from the film’s heavier themes; indeed, the movie loses some of its energy in Sandoval’s absence.

But “El secreto,” perhaps intentionally, is most effective and deeply engaging as a tale of unspoken love. While it’s perfectly obvious within about half a second that the attraction is mutual, it’s not hard to understand why Esposito and Irene choose to suppress it. That kind of protracted yearning can wear on the viewer’s patience (see, e.g., the exquisitely maddening The Remains of the Day), yet it doesn’t here. Circumstances are against them in ways that are believable and not overly contrived, though also not insurmountable; at the same time, the two are so likable—and there’s so much warmth and electricity, so subtly expressed, between them—that we root, root, root for them to prevail as a couple. Watching them, it struck me that I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen a movie that featured an emotionally mature love story about two emotionally mature adults. “The Secret in Their Eyes” will be manna from heaven for moviegoers jaded by Hollywood’s endless parade of paper-thin romances between boy-men and long-suffering women, sulky adolescents, sulky adolescents and vampires, and gun-wielding or gun-threatened couples on the lam. Here’s hoping Hollywood takes notice and learns something from it.

GRADE: B+

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I hope this isn't going to be another summer full of celebrity deaths. First, Gary Coleman (and only a couple of months after that other '80s staple, Corey Haim); now, Dennis Hopper. All I can say about Coleman (and, for that matter, Haim) is that I hope his death erases some of the condescending pity that dogged the later part of his life and restores in full the affection that made him a household name. Death usually does that.

As for Hopper, I haven't seen as much of his work as perhaps I should. Never felt compelled to see "Easy Rider," and "Blue Velvet" is still on my Netflix queue. But there's no doubt he cut a uniquely memorable figure in Hollywood history. To quote one of my friends, and a legion of movie buffs, no one did crazy like Dennis Hopper. And his performance in "Speed" will always be one of my favorite villain turns by anyone, ever.

For a deeper appreciation of Hopper's oeuvre, read this splendidly nuanced obit by Salon's Andrew O'Hehir.

Updated 6/7/10:

And it seems that celebrity deaths really do come in three's: R.I.P. Rue McLanahan, also and forever known as Blanche. Sad to think there's only one Golden Girl left. Betty White, you take care of yourself, y'hear?

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The arrival of the "Lost" series finale caused me to reflect on why I've never blogged about the show, when I've watched it for longer than "Mad Men," "Glee," "Friday Night Lights," or really any of its contemporaries, except perhaps "American Idol." Well, it's partly laziness - I'd have felt compelled to comment on and theorize about the oodles & oodles of mysteries, puzzles, and arcane references the show kept piling on, when really I had no interest in doing so. Partly, too, it was rooted in a certain ambivalence I've always had about the show: I'd get fed up with it time and again, only to find myself pulled back in without quite knowing how ("just when I thought I was out..."). As a result of this continual tug of war, I missed quite a few episodes, including nearly half of an entire season, and never bothered to catch up on what I missed. Ultimately, I just didn't think it made a difference in terms of figuring out what was going on at the macro-level...and I'd say the finale proved me right!

The reason I stayed with the show at the level I did, which is also fundamentally the reason I didn't hate (and on the whole rather liked) the series finale, is that my investment was emotional, not intellectual. It's not that the mysteries and puzzles had no allure for me - they piqued my interest for the time that they appeared on my screen, and I appreciated the cleverly opaque cultural references that were strewn here and there like Easter eggs. But what I cared about most was the characters - their back stories (as well as their front stories, side stories, etc.), their emotional and spiritual development, and their seemingly fated interconnectedness with one another. I wanted them to have learned something from their experience on "Craphole Island," and to have progressed upward as characters. I didn't want all the pain and death to be for nothing.

On that level, I got what I wanted in the finale. (Though I did feel a little cheated by the revelation about the "sideways universe" - to me, the alterna-world was far too developed, and too demonstrably superior to the characters' "real" experience, to be nothing more than a mere projection, or purgatory, or waiting-room, or whatever.)

On every other level, I think the finale was measured and found wanting. So it goes. I never spent that much energy trying to figure out what the island was All About or why certain things about the island were the way they were. But I can understand the frustration of those who did.

Alan Sepinwall pretty much sums up my feelings about the finale: emotionally satisfying, intellectually much less so.

There are worse ways to go.

Joss Whedon, Neil Patrick Harris help "Glee" get its groove back

2010-05-18T23:07:00.006-04:00

Tonight's "Glee" = epic awesomeness.

This week's episode arrived laden with high expectations, at least for Gleeks and TV nerds - Neil Patrick Harris guest-stars! Joss Whedon directs! - and I'm happy to report it did not disappoint. Any episode that gives substantial screen time to Artie and Tina, singing time to Mr. Shue, and dancing time to Mike "Other Asian" Chang is well on its way to earning my thumbs up. But "Dream On" offered so much more!

About time, too. Before tonight, the show hadn't really found its footing since returning from its long winter hiatus. After a very creaky start, it was gradually improving but hadn't reached the heights and giddy delights of, for example, "Single Ladies" on the football field - or the sublime combo of Kristen Chenoweth and Lea Michele on "Maybe This Time." Tonight, however, "Glee" got its mojo back in a big way.

My favorite things about the episode:

1. Artie's dream sequence: Flash mob dance. In a mall. To the song "Safety Dance." With Artie (Kevin McHale) front and center. Result: pure unadulterated joy. Nice to see McHale finally get a chance to bust out his boy-band moves.

2. Mr. Shue and Bryan Ryan's sing-off: My only beef is that while Neil Patrick Harris is obviously an accomplished singer and performer, as between him and Matthew Morrison, vocally there's no contest. True, I may be biased, considering Morrison's voice is like catnip to me. And there's no denying NPH was a delight to watch as the Shue-nemy, though he was a little more dialed down than I was expecting. You'd think "Glee" would be a perfect place for him to let his manic spirit really rip. Then again, maybe the show's so over the top he just seems restrained by comparison.

3. "I Dreamed a Dream": Susan Boyle, eat your heart out. Of *course* Idina Menzel's character - forgot her name - had to be Rachel's biological mother; what a waste of an uncanny resemblance otherwise! Their double-powerhouse duet was exquisitely lovely, even if Lea Michele's overly dramatic facial expressions were a bit distracting.

4. The return of Jesse: So he did have an ulterior motive, just not the one we all suspected! (Although maybe Rachel's mom wants to bring her daughter over to Vocal Adrenaline, and then for all practical purposes it's still sabotage of New Directions.) I have to admit I'm fascinated by his character, and whatever his motives, I like him with Rachel. Why did I not try to see those two together in Spring Awakening when it was still on Broadway? Damn. And I don't care if Jonathan Groff is gay; he's still delish.

5. Tina and Mike's tap dance I found quite charming, and Artie's expression throughout it surprisingly poignant. That said, I do wish the show would give Tina some character development that isn't related to being Artie's supportive & long-suffering love interest. What about *her* dreams? her demons? And while you're at it, why not give "Other Asian" a few lines, too?

Did the episode come together as a whole, apart from the strength of these individual set pieces? I'd say yes. Sure, Rachel's pining for her mother came out of left field (loved her attempt to persuade Jesse that Patti LuPone was her bio-ma, though), and the Artie plotline was a little after-school-specialish, and a little redundant (didn't we get that lesson in "Wheels," or for that matter, from Finn's paraplegic friend last week?). Still, the overall theme - don't give up on your dreams, but not all dreams are possible - was pretty coherently executed. For "Glee," anyway.

Let's hope this week signaled a return to form. Even if it didn't - and "Glee" is nothing if not erratic in quality, always has been - this is still one of its best eps so far. Bring on the rest of the season!

R.I.P. Lena Horne; and other, more trivial ramblings

2010-05-10T22:47:00.008-04:00

The great Lena Horne passed away yesterday at the age of 92. Although she earned enduring and well-deserved fame as a singer and pathbreaker for African American entertainers, she never completely overcame - or forgot - the entrenched racism that stymied her movie career. Today, it's hard to imagine someone as lovely and talented as her not being able to get traction in Hollywood. Or maybe not so hard; in too many ways things haven't changed enough, or even all that much, since the '40s. At any rate, her small body of film work was Hollywood's loss - but also our own. Luckily we still have the legacy of her music.

I really can't improve on the Film Experience's beautiful tribute to Lena, so I won't try. Be sure to check out the well-chosen musical clips - including the song for which she's best known today, "Stormy Weather" (from the 1943 film of the same name).

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Other odds and ends that have been rattling around in my brain today:

Ray Bradbury: Over at Slate there's a good piece on Bradbury, inspired by a new Everyman's Library edition of his stories. The author makes a persuasive case that that form - the short story - is where Bradbury's true literary genius lies. I wholeheartedly agree. What cracked me up, though, was this observation:

The irony in many of his stories is that the innocents are the adults, while the children are devious little homicidal maniacs.

It's funny because it's so true. (Exhibit A: "The Veldt".) I think it's one of the reasons I like Bradbury. Well, that and his writing style.

Movies: I saw two movies this past weekend that at first glance couldn't be more different - the first blockbuster sequel (but surely not the last) of the summer, IRON MAN 2, and the Argentinian film EL SECRETO DE SUS OJOS (The Secret in Their Eyes), which snagged the Oscar for Best Foreign Film this year. But on reflection, I found one striking similarity between the two, at least in my reactions to them: I was much more engaged by the relationships between the characters than the mechanics of the plot ostensibly driving them. It's not really a fair comparison, as the plot of "Secret" is a deal more carefully thought out, and integral to said character development, than that of "Iron Man" redux. Still, in both cases what stays with you is first, the soul-searching of the main character; second, his dynamic with - and unexpressed love for - the girl; and third, the not-as-fully-sketched but still-vividly-realized secondary characters. I'll develop all this more fully in due course once I've had more time to think about both films, especially "The Secret in Their Eyes."

I also had some thoughts of doing a compare/contrast piece between "Iron Man 2" and the upcoming "Robin Hood" - something about the respective models and/or genres of movie heroism embodied by Russell Crowe (old school) and Robert Downey, Jr. (very new school, even though they're only a year apart in age) - which obviously depends on my seeing the not-yet-released RH, due in theaters this Friday. Of course the movie itself may well undermine my expectations, along with whatever inchoate ideas are currently percolating in my subconscious. I'll just have to wait and see.

My Must-See TV: I've also been mulling doing a spring TV roundup, focusing mainly on "Lost" (which I think finally "lost" me last week - pun fully intended), "Glee" (which has been uneven, but on the whole still more enjoyable than not, since its return), and the sublime "Friday Night Lights," which had its fourth season premiere on NBC last week. I may wait a little, however, for "Lost" to end (if I can bring myself to swallow my outrage and watch the last few episodes) and for FNL to get a little further along.

Anti-Stratfordians and trash humpers: And finally, on quite a different note, if you're looking for something funny and pop-culture-related to read, here are two pieces that made me laugh out loud, even though - or perhaps because - I have no desire to see either of the movies they describe: a Da Vinci Code-ish take on the "true" author of Shakespeare's plays, directed by - wait for it - Roland Emmerich, and a movie about - well, "Trash Humpers". The comments on the latter are pretty amusing as well.

Well, that's enough free association for today; more organized thoughts next time!

R.I.P. Lynn Redgrave

2010-05-03T23:01:00.003-04:00

Who put a curse on the Redgraves? Lynn Redgrave (younger sister to Vanessa) passed away yesterday, just a month after her older brother, Corin, suffered a fatal heart attack, and a year after her niece, Natasha Richardson, died of a freak brain injury caused by a skiing accident. Her own death was less unexpected - she'd been fighting breast cancer for several years - but no less tragic. She was only 67.

I haven't a great deal to say about her career, as I'm not particularly familiar with her work. I recall her most vividly from "Shine," in which she played David Helfgott's wife and savior, but I haven't seen the films for which she'll likely be best remembered ("Georgy Girl," "Gods and Monsters" come most readily to mind). Nevertheless, she was by all accounts not only a fine actress but also a great lady who endured her last days of suffering with courage and grace. May she always be remembered thus.

Summer Movie Preview: My Ten Most Anticipated Releases

2010-05-03T01:01:00.010-04:00

With "Iron Man 2" just around the corner, sumer is icumen in roughly on schedule. Absurdly early, that is. Remember when the summer movie season didn't start until Memorial Day weekend? That's nearly inconceivable now - there's far too much box office at stake. I can't rag on the studios too much, though, considering just how desperate I always am by the end of April for movies that don't seem headed straight for the $2 DVD bin. This year is no exception. In order of release date, here are the ten movies I'm most looking forward to over the next few months. Bring on the popcorn!

IRON MAN 2 (This Friday)
I'm skeptical it'll be as enjoyable as the first one - but I have faith that the combo of Robert Downey, Jr.'s droll charisma and Jon Favreau's direction will provide at least some degree of viewing pleasure.

ROBIN HOOD (May 14)
I'm quite fond of the 1991 Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (Kevin Costner's anemic accent and all) and I doubt Ridley Scott's latest take on the legendary outlaw will supplant it in my affections - especially if, as I suspect, the new RH just ends up being "Gladiator" refitted for medieval England. But still...it's Russell Crowe and Cate Blanchett, two of our finest living actors, playing Robin and Marian. How can I miss that?

ONDINE (June 4)
Who knew I'd be putting a Colin Farrell movie on this list? But I've been coming around to the actor I used to loathe, and this little Irish film - directed by Neil Jordan and inspired by the legend of the selkie, or seal-woman - sounds like a labor of love that could be quite charming and understated, a welcome counterpoint to the bang-and-boom blockbusters surrounding it.

THE A-TEAM (June 11)
When I first heard this '80s warhorse was being adapted for the big screen, my thought was "Seriously? Didn't we learn anything from Dukes of Hazzard?" Having seen the trailer, I now pity the fool who writes off this movie. No, it doesn't look like anything special as an action flick. No, I wasn't a big fan of the show. And yet something tells me it's going to be a riot to watch in a movie theater filled with other thirtysomethings. Also? Liam Neeson as cigar-chewing Hannibal? Hot.

TOY STORY 3 (June 18)
Unplanned third installments - i.e., those that weren't mapped out from the first movie's inception - are never necessary and very rarely justifiable, but this might be one of those rare occasions that can be justified. "Toy Story" is a bona fide classic, and "Toy Story 2" a sequel that actually strengthened the franchise. Pixar, I'm counting on you not to fuck it up with #3.

IO SONO L'AMORE (I AM LOVE) (June 18)
Tilda Swinton as a gorgeously dressed Russian émigré in a gorgeous villa in pre-Fascist Italy, having doomed affairs with younger men over gorgeous-looking food. I am so there, even though I know it has to end badly. This is no Eat Pray Love, even if it looks like aesthetes' porn. Actually it's like the anti-Eat Pray Love, which for me is a point in its favor.

THE KIDS ARE ALL RIGHT (July 9)
A hit at Sundance, Lisa Cholodenko's comedy-drama spotlights a lesbian couple (Annette Bening and Julianne Moore) who find their comfortable yuppie lives up-ended when their teenage children track down their biological father (Mark Ruffalo) and try to bring him into the family. This is one of my most anticipated films of the summer, not least because it features Ruffalo in a role that actually makes full use of his talents.

DESPICABLE ME (July 9)
A cartoon villain plotting to steal the moon is flummoxed by the appearance of three little orphans in his life. I dig it. I also dig the retro stylized animation and the unplaceable Steve Carell voice-over.

INCEPTION (July 16)
This is by far the film I'm most excited to see this summer. Consider the premise: a noir-ish future (is there any other kind?) in which paid agents can enter and steal your dreams. Then consider it's directed by Christopher Nolan ("Memento," "The Prestige") and stars Leonardo DiCaprio, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Ken Watanabe, Michael Caine, Cillian Murphy, and Marion Cotillard (oh yeah, and Ellen Page, if she's your thing). Sold! I just hope it doesn't crumble under the weight of expectations: the fanboys (Nolan also directed "The Dark Knight") are already out in full force.

THE OTHER GUYS (August 6)
A cop-buddy comedy that pairs Will Ferrell and Mark Wahlberg (and, as their foils, Samuel L. Jackson and Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson). Directed by the guy behind "Anchorman" and "Talladega Nights." High potential for hilarity.

What movies are you looking forward to this summer?

Capsule reviews: "Date Night," "The Runaways"

2010-04-27T00:46:00.009-04:00

DATE NIGHT

directed by Shawn Levy
starring Steve Carell, Tina Fey, Mark Wahlberg, Taraji P. Henson, with appearances by James Franco, Mila Kunis, William Fichtner, Ray Liotta, Mark Ruffalo, Kristen Wiig, Leighton Meester, others

"Date Night" is an agreeable trifle that manages to entertain without being particularly clever. If you've seen the previews (and who hasn't?), you already know all you need to know about the plot: a nice middle-class couple, Phil and Claire Foster, try to spice up their scheduled weekly date night by stealing another couple's reservation at a chichi New York restaurant, only to find themselves mixed up with the Mob and in way over their heads. Great comedy this ain't - the plotting is lazy, and the jokes are mostly pretty bland - but enough of them land on target to score a fairly steady stream of laughs, while director Shawn Levy ("Night at the Museum") wisely keeps things moving along at a rapid clip (with the glaring exception of one overlong interlude in which the Fosters sit in a parked car and discuss their marital problems, notwithstanding the fact that they're being pursued by ruthless goons). It's also a pleasure to see Marky Mark do comedy again; he has a natural flair for it that he really should indulge more often. But of course what makes "Date Night" work is the inspired pairing of Carell and Fey - not just because of their dead-on comic timing and delivery, but because of their inherent likability and their surprising plausibility as a suburban middle-class couple. They seem like people any of us would know, only much, much funnier.

GRADE: B

THE RUNAWAYS

directed by Floria Sigismondi
starring Dakota Fanning, Kristen Stewart, Michael Shannon, others

Based on the true story of an all-girl teenage rock band that rose briefly to fame in the '70s, "The Runaways" never really justifies its own existence. (As a film, I mean, not as a band.) Less a chronicle than an episodic sketch of the band's rise and fall, it's only fitfully engaging and ends up feeling like a superficial treatment of a potentially fascinating subject. Not because it fails to convey every detail of the Runaways' history, but because it never fully captures just why they matter - other than as a launching pad for rock goddess Joan Jett.

The film focuses almost exclusively on just two of the band's members: Jett (Kristen Stewart), the lead guitarist, and lead singer Cherie Currie (Dakota Fanning). Michael Shannon also turns up as the unscrupulous record producer who simultaneously motivates and exploits them, and who dangles Cherie as jailbait to reel in male fans. Fanning and Stewart are credible enough as the prototype rocker grrls, and the performance sequences progress convincingly from amateurish to unexpectedly riveting. Offstage, however, they prove rather less compelling. Director Floria Sigismondi's gauzy, impressionistic style, evoking the drug-induced haze that enveloped the band and eventually submerged Cherie, seems influenced by Sofia Coppola, but without the deep core of emotion that underlies the shimmering surfaces of Coppola's work. In fact, "The Runaways" seems oddly detached from its protagonists, despite Sigismondi's best efforts to depict the complex, tender bond between them as well as their individual characters. We learn, for example, that Cherie comes from a broken home, that addiction runs in her family, and that she has a loving but troubled relationship with her sister, yet she remains a cipher who fails to tap into the viewer's sympathies. Joan fares better in this regard, simply by virtue of being tougher, scrappier, and far more clear-sighted about what she wants. Yet the script on balance tilts its attention more towards Cherie (it is, after all, based on her memoir) without giving us any sense of what makes her tick. Inevitably, as she spins out of control, the film begins to drag. It recovers somewhat with a quietly bittersweet ending that briefly reunites a rising Joan and a chastened Cherie and pays tribute to their past relationship.

GRADE: B/B-

"Ghost Writer" displays more style than substance

2010-03-30T00:39:00.011-04:00

THE GHOST WRITER

directed by Roman Polanski
starring Ewan McGregor, Pierce Brosnan, Olivia Williams, Kim Cattrall, Tom Wilkinson, Timothy Hutton, with a cameo by Eli Wallach
based on the novel by Robert Harris

“Ghost Writer,” Roman Polanski’s latest, is a little like the classic gag of a beautifully gift-wrapped box that, when opened, reveals another, smaller box, and within that, yet another box, and so on until the last box turns out to be empty. Polanski’s technique is as impeccable and his worldview as jaded as ever, but the story ultimately leaves you wondering: is that all there is? The film is like “Chinatown” without the thing that made “Chinatown” matter—the knockout punch to our collective moral gut.

That’s not to say it fails to engage the viewer along the way. It starts out promisingly enough, with the mysterious death of a man hired to ghost-write the biography of former British Prime Minister Adam Lang (Pierce Brosnan). He’s soon replaced by another (Ewan McGregor), who agrees to finish the job for a tidy sum, notwithstanding abundant warning signals that something about this project stinks. The new “ghost” finds himself holed up at a New England beach house - all sleek, expensively sterile contemporary lines - with a closely guarded manuscript and the intermittent company of Lang, his razor-edged wife Ruth (Olivia Williams), and a small entourage of ultra-discreet assistants (including one played by that queen of slinky self-possession, Kim Cattrall). Tensions rise as Lang is indicted by the International Criminal Court for collaborating with the CIA to kidnap and torture suspected terrorists, forcing him to stay in the U.S. to avoid extradition, while the ghost writer begins to investigate certain clues, left behind by his predecessor, to the Langs’ chequered past.

The movie’s political topicality turns out not to be one of its more interesting features, as it remains largely collateral to broader themes involving the structure of power and ownership of narrative. Somewhat more interesting is the ironic consonance between Lang’s very public, international fall from grace, and Polanski’s own, which many critics haven’t been able to resist dissecting in light of the latter’s recent arrest. But “Ghost Writer” operates first and foremost as a carefully crafted mystery.

And it had the potential to be a first-rate one. Polanski ratchets up the suspense with a masterful hand and sustains the mood of vague unease beautifully through brooding, expansive shots of the gray, wind- and rain-swept landscape that passes for a Martha’s Vineyard or Nantucket-type retreat and a reliably atmospheric score by Alexandre Desplat, set off by flashes of dry, Polanski-style humor. But the final twist underwhelms and the ending fizzles, even though (or perhaps because) it’s altered from the book—most likely for the sole purpose of setting up a last, sweeping shot that’s clearly designed to erode any lingering faith in the inevitability of justice. It’s a powerful image, but its impact doesn’t feel truly earned—not least because it requires considerable suspension of disbelief as to how McGregor’s character would be likely to act.

Or maybe not. One of the most disappointing or fascinating aspects of “Ghost Writer,” depending on one’s viewpoint, is the total opacity of its ostensible protagonist. That’s undoubtedly deliberate, as, too, perhaps, is McGregor’s flat, affectless performance. His is, after all, a character without a name, back story, or visible human ties of any kind, a literal ghost. Yet I couldn’t help wondering why one would cast an actor as charismatic as Ewan McGregor to play such a blank. (Particularly disheartening are his interactions with Cattrall’s character, which seem scripted to generate some kind of flirtatious spark but instead flop limply like cold noodles.)

Fortunately, the rest of the cast supplies all the energy that McGregor lacks. Brosnan’s an intriguing study as the disgraced ex-PM, more reminiscent of Ronald Reagan—if Reagan had been prone to fits of rage underneath all his geniality—than Tony Blair, while the redoubtable Tom Wilkinson casts an extra shade of menace as the scholar who seems to have closer ties to Lang than he’s willing to admit. The standout, however, is Williams, who’s simply marvelous as the embittered, acerbic, tightly wound Ruth. Perpetually wary and fearful that her influence over her husband may be waning, she seethes with anger, jealousy, and frustrated ambition, and nothing escapes her poisonously sharp tongue or even sharper eyes. Whether intentionally or not, she emerges as the film’s most indelible figure: no ghost she, but arguably the true writer of the narrative presented here.

GRADE: B/B+

A Few Words on Season 9 of "American Idol"

2010-03-24T00:25:00.002-04:00

What can I say? I've been watching this season, somewhat desultorily, since Hollywood Week, but haven't felt in the least like blogging any of it. Either the "Idol" talent pool is just especially underwhelming this year, or I've finally outgrown the show. Or maybe both. As a show, "Idol" is really showing its age. Even the addition of Ellen, who's perfectly adequate, if not exactly inspired, as a judge, hasn't been able to inject much new life into this lumbering old warhorse. Besides, four judges is too many; I've started fast-forwarding through their comments, esp. since they keep giving conflicting advice. Plus Simon looks bored, Kara still bugs (it's more her manner than the substance of her comments), and mentors like Miley Cyrus add nothing to the musical cred of the show.

That's not to say there's no talent to be found - there is, though it shows mostly in flashes and glimmers - but far too few of this year's contestants have it all together as performers, which has made them something of a chore to slog through, more so than usual. Or maybe I just miss David Cook and Kris Allen.

Anyway, here are my general thoughts on this year's field:

IN A CLASS OF HER OWN: Crystal Bowersox. Unlike the other contestants, she sounds like a professional artist already, one who's already found her niche and what works for her. It works for me, too. Her one flaw, so far, is a certain lack of originality. But hey, this is "American Idol" we're talking about.

MOST LIKE ADAM LAMBERT: Siobhan Magnus. Great pipes, arguably the best of this lot, but too fond of wailing...and it's difficult to pinpoint what her musical identity would be, esp. as a recording artist.

SOLID BUT NOT TERRIBLY INTERESTING: "Big Mike" Lynch, Lee "I sound kind of like David Cook but don't have one-tenth of his stage presence or charisma" Dewyze, Casey "Cougarbait" James

BROOKE WHITE VERSION 2.0: Didi Benami. I rather like her, mind - she's got the kind of tone and vibe I dig in my personal listening preferences. But she has really got to become more comfortable and consistent as a performer to go the distance.

DAVID ARCHULETA, VERSION 2.0: Aaron Kelly, though he's a pale shadow of Archuleta vocally. I think he should have waited a couple of years before trying out for "Idol."

HIT OR MISS: Paige Miles. There's something about her I like, and she has a good voice. But she's still very amateurish and has had some awful performances, tonight being one of them. Would not be surprised if she goes home tomorrow.

WTF IS SHE STILL DOING HERE?: Katie Stevens. Is like a lesser, WAY lesser Kat McPhee or Diana Degarmo, both of whom could sing circles around her. She *so* did not deserve to outlast the quirky silver-haired girl (Lily?) and the curly-haired blond chick (Katelyn?).

YAWN: Everyone else

I AM STILL MAD ABOUT: Alex Lambert not making top 12. That kid was as green as they come, but musically he had more potential than half the contestants still in the mix.

And that's all I got. I'll probably continue to watch, and if any of this group does something to change the above opinions, then I may resume weekly recaps. But until then - I just don't feel compelled to blog the show regularly. The bloom is off the rose.

Oscars Recap

2010-03-09T00:08:00.004-05:00

Ah, my little “Hurt Locker” – I knew you had it in you. But I didn’t know how much! Picture, director, and editing, sure, I was expecting that—but who’da thunk you’d take screenplay and both sound awards as well? Your mini-sweep cost me my Oscars pool this year! I can’t begrudge you that, however; I’m too happy for you.

Otherwise, I can’t say the Oscars left me feeling much of anything except numb. For a history-making night, the ceremony felt fairly staid and blah. And long—very long, clocking in at 3 1/2 hours. I don’t think it was just because there were ten Best Pic nominees this year rather than five. After all, there weren’t nearly as many “whoopee, let’s look at this genre over the years!” montages as last year, there was no Irving Thalberg award, and I don’t remember anyone’s acceptance speech going deep into O/T. But somehow the night just dragged on and on, although it wasn’t without its share of bright moments—and weird ones.

THE GOOD:

Kathryn Bigelow becoming the first female director (yessss!) to win Best Director. And Picture to boot! “The Hurt Locker” may not have been my favorite film of the year, but there’s no question it was a tremendously effective and well-crafted piece of cinema that deserved its accolades. (Though “Strange Days” remains my favorite Bigelow movie.)

Co-hosts Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin – score! I loved Hugh Jackman’s song-and-dance-oriented patter last year (his musical opening was better than Neil Patrick Harris’, much as I heart NPH), but I’m all for mixing it up from one year to the next. This year the producers decided to give us something old and something new—and it worked, even if it felt at times like a very belated ad for “It’s Complicated.” The duo had an easy, engaging rapport, and launched some funny zingers, though Martin had the edge in delivery and timing. After all, the man’s a practiced stand-up comedian, and was one of the better hosts of Oscars past. It was great to see him back on this stage.

The tribute to John Hughes: Thoughtfully edited and appropriately nostalgia-inducing, even if it was a little depressing to see how ungracefully some of the Brat Pack have aged.

Ben Stiller: I don’t care much for him in movies, but I generally enjoy his Oscars schtick, whether it’s clowning around in a green body suit, doing a wicked Joaquin Phoenix impersonation, or appearing in full Na’vi get-up and coming as close as anyone in the room dared to mocking James Cameron. (Still wish I could see the skit with Brüno that was reportedly excised to avoid offending the notoriously thin-skinned director. I mean really, what is this, lèse majesté? Give me a break.)

Sandra Bullock’s acceptance of Best Actress: while I still don’t think she deserved to win, her speech showed exactly why everyone, including me, loves her. It was classy, deadpan-funny (“my lover Meryl Streep”), endearingly self-deprecating (“did I just wear you all down?”), and full of controlled emotion. Plus she looked gorgeous and at least a decade younger than her 45 years. She and Bigelow must drink from the same fountain – they need to bottle that stuff and sell it: Bigelow and Bullock's Better than Botox Formula. I'd buy some.

Jeff Bridges’s acceptance of Best Actor: Loved seeing him embrace his long-earned moment of glory, and remind us all that the Dude abides.

THE BAD

Weird pacing. So much of the show felt interminable and then the last 5-10 minutes were an awkward gallop to the big finish.

Swapping out actual performances of the nominated scores and songs for a dance number with no distinguishing features. I love dance and I understand that it doesn’t need to be directly representational or have a narrative to be, um, “interpretive,” but this just didn’t work for me.

The introduction of each nominee for Best Actor/Actress by a colleague in the industry: This was a modification of last year’s main innovation, in which the previous years’ nominees each presented one of the current nominees. I liked that this year they at least gave presentation duties to someone who could speak from personal experience with the nominee, but I’m still not a fan of the format. It just feels canned – though some were less so than others – and sucks up waaaay too much time, especially when you’re already past the three-hour mark. Let’s just go back to clips, please?

Having Barbara Streisand present Best Director – practically telegraphing that History was About to be Made. I mean, really, what would they have done if Bigelow hadn’t won? If I hadn’t wanted her to win so much, I would almost have enjoyed watching Babs deflate as she discovered the time had not yet come.

THE UGLY

Zoe Saldana’s dress, or more specifically the bottom half of it. To quote one fashion commentator, “I loved Saldana's bodice and greatly wished it did not turn into an intergalactic cancan skirt down below.” Indeed. On the flip side, for above-the-waist mishaps, the runner-up booby prize (literally) has to go to Charlize Theron and her giant rose satin nipples.

WTF?

Didn’t think I’d forget the lady swathed in purple who Kanye’d the winner of the best documentary short, did you? That was hands-down the most bizarre moment of the evening. Turns out the woman was in fact official co-winners with the director (the dude she interrupted) - she'd been a producer on the film but had quit over a year ago, due to “creative differences” with him. There was even a lawsuit that settled, leaving her name in the credits, but didn’t put the bad blood to rest. Evidently. Best part: She's claiming that she was late to the stage because the director's mother had stuck out a cane to block her while the director rushed up to accept the award. He denies this, of course. But did you ever hear anything so crazy?

The tribute to horror: Since when are “Twilight” and “Edward Scissorhands” considered horror movies? I did love Baldwin and Martin’s spoof of “Paranormal Activity,” though.

What on earth was Sean Penn saying when he presented Best Actress? I didn’t understand a word.

PERSONAL FAVORITE MOMENTS

Mo’Nique thanking her attorneys. As a lawyer in a roomful of lawyers, I can say we were all tickled by that shoutout.

Costume designer Sandy “I already have two of these” Powell effectively saying “thanks, but no thanks” to the Academy for her third Oscar (this one for “The Young Victoria”). To be fair, she seemed to be calling them out for their fetish with period costume and saying they should recognize less obviously Oscar-baity work. But then there was that punchline: “So this is for you [the overlooked], but I’m going to take it home tonight.” Oh, snap!

All in all, not one of the worst Oscars shows, but not one of the best, either. Happy about most of the outcomes, not happy that there was so little else that stood out about the ceremony except its length. Still, what would the Oscars be without a heaping dose of self-indulgence? Sometimes you gotta respect tradition.

Till next year – au revoir, Os-car!

Oscars Predictions

2010-03-04T23:26:00.007-05:00

It’s Oscars Day minus three, and the Academy has to be feeling pretty pleased with itself. Despite an initially skeptical response to the decision to nominate ten films for Best Picture, its gamble seems to have paid off and injected new interest in the race. Vying for Hollywood’s highest honor is a nice mix of indie and mainstream fare that includes not only the highest-grossing movie of the year, if not of all time, but a couple of cult faves (Tarantino, Coen Brothers), a crowd-pleasing “sports miracle” pic, a war movie made by a female director, a social consciousness-raising film made by a black director, a low-budget sci-fi blockbuster, and the first Pixar film ever to be nominated for Best Picture. Not to mention a showdown/throwdown between a pair of high-profile exes – the brilliant and beautiful Kathryn Bigelow and the brilliant and bigheaded James Cameron.

There’s no doubt this is one of the most diverse lineups in years. The real question is whether the extra nominees are just window dressing or whether expanding the field will actually make a difference in the ultimate outcome. The short answer is it could make a difference, but I’m betting it won’t.

Here’s how it could: In order to avoid a nominee winning with just 11% of the vote, the powers that be changed the voting system for Best Picture to something closer to an instant runoff voting system. Rather than picking just one movie, Academy members were asked to rank the ten in their order of preference. So in the first round of vote-counting, the movie with the least first-place votes will be eliminated, and the ballots that ranked this movie first will be redistributed, each reshuffled ballot going to the movie that it ranked second. Then the same thing is done with the movie with the next-least number of first-place votes; and again and again until one movie has more than 50% of the votes. This means that a movie that gets a lot of second-place votes could theoretically do better than one that had more first place votes. Still, my gut tells me that in the end the race will boil down to two frontrunners (see below), which makes it...not so very different from Oscars races in years past. We’ll see soon enough.

The other major awards are, alas, much less interesting this year—in particular, it looks like all four acting Oscars are sewn up—though one can always hope for a surprise or two. Nevertheless, I’m fairly confident making the following predictions:

Best Picture

NOMINEES: Avatar; The Blind Side; District 9; An Education; The Hurt Locker; Inglourious Basterds; Precious; A Serious Man; Up; Up in the Air

WILL WIN: The Hurt Locker, by a nose, over Avatar. Remember it’s neither critics nor ordinary joes that vote for the Oscars, but the industry. The Hurt Locker has won both the Producers Guild and Directors Guild awards—pretty good signs of its support within Hollywood. But the ten nominees and new counting system still have the potential to skew the vote in unexpected ways.

SHOULD WIN: There’s a part of me that’s rooting for District 9 (which has no chance of winning), but for overall craft and quality, The Hurt Locker deserves the trophy. Caveat: I haven’t seen Precious.

Best Director

NOMINEES: Kathryn Bigelow, The Hurt Locker; James Cameron, Avatar; Lee Daniels, Precious; Jason Reitman, Up in the Air; Quentin Tarantino, Inglourious Basterds

WILL WIN: Bigelow. No woman has ever won Best Director before, and you can just feel the Academy itching to give it to her. The more so for showing she can direct a “man’s movie” with the best of ’em. It’s bullshit, but it’s definitely a factor.

SHOULD WIN: Bigelow, for the same reason I think her film should win best picture, though Cameron does deserve props for pioneering what could be a groundbreaking development in cinema. (Not sure I like what it might bode for the future of cinema, but I also think the breathless extrapolations of a world in which 2-D and human actors are rendered obsolete, etc., are rather premature.)

Best Actor

NOMINEES: Jeff Bridges, Crazy Heart; George Clooney, Up in the Air; Colin Firth, A Single Man; Morgan Freeman, Invictus; Jeremy Renner, The Hurt Locker

WILL WIN: Bridges has had this one in the bag since December, even before the nominations were announced. It’s as much a recognition of his career as of this particular role.

SHOULD WIN: It’s a particularly strong field this year (though I’d swap Freeman for Matt Damon’s wonderfully goofy performance in “The Informant!”), but I would give the award to Firth. He gives the best, most delicate portrayal of what I only half-jokingly dub “English grief” since Ralph Fiennes in The Constant Gardener. The subtle nuances and shadings of Firth’s performance are incredible.

Best Actress

NOMINEES: Sandra Bullock, The Blind Side; Helen Mirren, The Last Station; Carey Mulligan, An Education; Gabourey Sidibe, Precious; Meryl Streep, Julie & Julia

WILL WIN: Bullock – it’s her year, and she’s just so damn likable that once again you can feel Hollywood wanting to give her her own little golden guy. There is a tiny chance Streep will steal it from her, and an even tinier chance that they’ll split the vote and someone else will sneak in, but if you’ve got money riding on this, I’d put it on Miss Congenality.

SHOULD WIN: Again, I haven’t seen Precious, but among the other four nominees I would pick Mulligan. There’s something so fresh, and yet so true, about her portrayal of that old trope—a young girl on the edge of womanhood—that it really stood out for me.

Best Supporting Actor

NOMINEES: Matt Damon, Invictus; Woody Harrelson, The Messenger; Christopher Plummer, The Last Station; Stanley Tucci, The Lovely Bones; Christoph Waltz, Inglourious Basterds

WILL WIN: Waltz, easily. I believe he’s won every single award for supporting actor this season.

SHOULD WIN: I haven’t seen The Messenger or The Lovely Bones, but I have no problem with Waltz’s inevitable victory. He was sensational. That said, there’s a secret corner of my heart that’s rooting for Plummer – I find it hard to believe this is his first Oscar nomination ever.

Best Supporting Actress

NOMINEES: Penélope Cruz, Nine: Vera Farmiga, Up in the Air; Maggie Gyllenhaal, Crazy Heart; Anna Kendrick, Up in the Air; Mo’Nique, Precious;

WILL WIN: Like Waltz, Mo’Nique has been cleaning up at all the precursor awards, and she’s the best chance Precious has for an Oscar.

SHOULD WIN: I haven’t seen Precious or Nine, so I’m reserving my opinion on this one. Of the three I have seen, Farmiga’s performance is the most mature and fine-tuned, though even she couldn’t sell me on certain aspects of her character.

Best Original Screenplay

NOMINEES: The Hurt Locker; Inglourious Basterds; The Messenger; A Serious Man; Up

WILL WIN: Inglourious Basterds is most likely, given the uniform admiration for Tarantino as a writer (though I personally think he’s a better director than writer).

SHOULD WIN: I surprised myself with this pick, but I’d vote for A Serious Man . It does a better job than any movie in recent memory of conveying the absurdity of human existence—and does it in a way that all you can do is laugh. Classic Coen brothers. (Caveat: haven’t seen The Messenger.)

Best Adapted Screenplay

NOMINEES: District 9; An Education; In the Loop; Precious; Up in the Air

WILL WIN: Up in the Air - this is its best (and, frankly, only) shot at Oscar.

SHOULD WIN: I haven’t seen Precious or In the Loop, while the other three screenplays are all interesting but imperfect. If I had to choose, I’d give the nod to District 9, by a hair, for turning the concept of the alien invasion movie on its head – even if the climax falls into more standard-action movie mode.

And there ya have it. Stay tuned to see whether Cameron gets to reanoint himself “King of the World,” or whether The Hurt Locker really becomes the Little Movie That Could, or whether Inglourious Basterds scores the upset of all upsets. Not to mention whether Avatar cleans up Cinematography and Art Direction as well as the expected techie awards, and whether Oscar finally has the balls to go edgy rather than sentimental for Best Foreign Film. No matter what the outcome might be, here’s hoping it’ll be a good show—and the best. Oscars. Evah.

Black Hearts Under a "White Ribbon"

2010-03-01T23:11:00.005-05:00

THE WHITE RIBBON

Das weisse Band: Eine deutsche Kindergeschichte
directed by Michael Haneke
Winner of the Palme d'Or; nominated for Best Foreign Film Oscar

Although I’ve seen only two films by Michael Haneke, there’s one point I feel confident making to those who haven’t seen any: do not go into his films—including his latest, “The White Ribbon”—expecting either closure or catharsis. You won’t get either. What you will get is a fascinating, deeply disquieting study of the capacity of ostensibly civilized humans to inflict shocking cruelty on one another, and to pass this unholy legacy on to their children.

“The White Ribbon” takes place in a deceptively pastoral German village, circa 1913-14. Like Haneke’s last film, “Caché,” it’s structured around a mystery—a series of disturbing incidents that gradually escalate in nastiness—but is less a whodunit than a psychological portrait of the kind of society that could engender such violence. Whereas “Caché” focused on the effect of the incidents on their targets, to the point that the identity of the perpetrator became virtually irrelevant, there’s a very strong indication throughout “The White Ribbon” as to who’s behind at least some of the crimes, though the film does leave just enough ambiguity to entertain other possibilities. Such speculation, however, is beside the point, as the real question here isn’t who or even why, but rather how. How could it come to this? And projecting forward, what could come next? One need only look at history for the answer: as Haneke himself has made clear in interviews, “The White Ribbon” posits that the seeds of the fascism, and worse, that overtook Germany in the 1930s and ’40s lay in the culture embodied in the pre-WWI community of “The White Ribbon.” Whether or not he proves his point is open to debate. But even if he doesn’t, the result is a film that’s at once unnervingly creepy and even more unnervingly beautiful.

Indeed, one of the most powerful aspects of “The White Ribbon” is the contrast between the pristine quality of the black-and-white cinematography—the exquisite clarity with which it highlights a child’s cheekbone, a church choir, a bucolic harvest celebration, or a new snowfall—and the corrosive evil that lies underneath all these emblems of purity. Haneke seems to trace the roots of the evil to a rigidly patriarchal social order and repressive Protestantism that produced an authoritarian, almost tyrannical culture of oppression and abuse, warping its children for generations to come. It may be 1913, yet there’s something curiously pre-modern about this village, and quasi-allegorical about its major figures—fittingly, most of the adults are known only by their titles: the Doctor, the Pastor, the Baron, the Schoolmaster, etc. The overall effect is more than a little reminiscent of Ingmar Bergman; the pastor alone could have stepped right out of, say, “Fanny and Alexander.” At the same time, there is a sense, punctuated by the “incidents,” that the moral authority that he and his peers represent is on the edge of a precipice.

This tension creates an atmosphere of nameless, unrelenting dread that never relaxes its grip. In fact, it’s drawn out so long (warning: the movie clocks in at nearly 2 hours and 45 minutes) that after a while you may feel worn out constantly anticipating horrible shit to happen. And horrible shit does happen, though mostly offscreen: the viewer is repeatedly forced into the uncomfortable perspective of an eavesdropper, lingering just outside a door or window that’s partly or wholly closed, catching a glimpse only before or after the act. Contributing to this recurring ellipsis is the fact that the story is recounted by the schoolmaster looking back at a distance of twenty years; he himself admits at the outset that he has only a partial, imperfect understanding of what actually happened. Still, unreliable narrator though he is, we can’t help implicitly trusting him, as in his account, at least, he comes across as one of the few sympathetic characters in this village of the damned. His courtship of a girl from a neighboring village offers one of the few sources of warmth and humor in the film. Yet even the girl has a guarded, too easily-frightened air that hints that she, too, is affected by the shadow that darkens everyone else.

For all its meticulous craftsmanship, “The White Ribbon” obviously isn’t an easy film to watch, much less enjoy. It’s heavy and dark, very deliberately paced, and might fairly, if somewhat paradoxically, be accused of being both overly simplistic and overly obscure. Some may argue that it fails to offer any particularly profound or persuasive insight into the moral questions it purports to address. But whatever the final verdict, it's set up to stir viewers first to ponder and then to discuss what it says about humanity. And that, in itself, is a rarity.

Also saw:

THE LAST STATION

directed by Michael Hoffman
starring Helen Mirren, Christopher Plummer, James McAvoy, Paul Giamatti, Kerry Condon

Even in his last, waning years, Leo Tolstoy was a rock star. That, at least, was the most vivid takeaway I got from “The Last Station,” a lazily enjoyable period-ish film about the great Russian author (Christopher Plummer), though equally about his tempestuous wife, Sofya Andreyevna (Helen Mirren). Like any rock star, the Tolstoy we see here has attained near-iconic status, with eager journalists and even more eager disciples practically perched on his doorstep, and other familiar trappings of celebrity, including a turbulent marriage and an ongoing tug-of-war between his wife and his acolyte-in-chief, Vladimir Chertkov (Paul Giamatti). The latter pair of antagonists have locked horns over who will inherit the rights to his written works, and we see their struggle through the eyes of Tolstoy’s new secretary, the idealistic Valentin (James McAvoy), whom both Sofya and Chertkov attempt to coopt as an ally within the Tolstoy household. Valentin’s sympathies are soon torn between, on the one hand, his devotion to the brand of “Tolstoyism” represented by Chertkov, who speaks a shade too smoothly about wanting to preserve Tolstoy for “the people,” and, on the other, the force embodied in Sofya—the force of tradition, sure, but more importantly, of love and blood-loyalty. He gets particularly confused when he falls for a fellow Tolstoy follower (Kerry Condon) who doesn’t have much use for some of the tenets of Tolstoyism, like celibacy. (To be sure, Tolstoy himself is far from a model Tolstoyite, as he himself admits with appealing candor.)

“The Last Station” is rather pedestrian and predictable, but it has its charms—chiefly the performances, though it also gave me a tangible yearning for a samovar and an estate in the Russian countryside. It’s also funnier and lighter of touch than you might expect; McAvoy does a variation on his usual arc from wet-behind-the-ears naif to wiser, emotionally chastened man, but he does it well, while the always-reliable Giamatti is tartly amusing as the schemer who at some level seems to believe his own spiel. Still, the main attraction here is undeniably the virtuosic (and Oscar-nominated) duet of Plummer and Mirren as the couple who can live neither with nor without each other. Not sure why Mirren’s been billed as lead and Plummer supporting, unless it was done purely for Oscars purposes, but the two are so well matched that they come across as an eminently believable married couple. What’s most remarkable is their ability to convey, in the interstices of all Sofya’s dramatic posturing and Lev Nikolayevich’s harumphing, a genuine, unfeigned tenderness born of decades of intimacy. If “The Last Station” sometimes feels like a course in Love 101 for the inexperienced Valentin, at least it leaves no doubt he’s learning from the masters.

GRADE: B

R.I.P. Jean Simmons; "Crazy Heart" is fairly tame; Heath Ledger's swan song

2010-01-25T23:48:00.011-05:00

The Siren has put up a truly lovely tribute to a truly lovely actress: Jean Simmons, who isn't quite as famous now as she was in her heyday, but not for lack of beauty or talent. I've really nothing to add to it except that my father had a lifelong crush on her, and while I've only seen her in a couple of movies, I sure don't blame him.

********

CRAZY HEART

directed by Scott Cooper
starring Jeff Bridges, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Robert Duvall

“Crazy Heart” is a well-made, well-acted, and thoroughly well-intentioned film. It’s also a bit of a snooze.

That most likely won’t stop it from snagging Jeff Bridges his long-overdue Oscar, nor should it. The veteran actor gives a fine, deeply etched performance that, characteristically, manages to be affecting without being showy and provides not just the heart but the backbone of a film that might otherwise feel rather limp. As it is, even his talents can’t prevent a certain flatness from setting in, as the story hits a well-worn, if comfortable, groove.

Bridges, looking like Kris Kristofferson if Kristofferson had gone to seed, plays a fictional country singer, “Bad” Blake, who’s descended from near-legendary status to semi-obscurity. His solo gigs reduced to dive bars and bowling alleys, his album royalties slowed to a trickle, he hasn’t written a new song in years, has four failed marriages and a grown-up son he hasn’t seen or talked to in decades, and spends most of his days in a whiskey-induced haze. Then he meets and falls for a woman, Jean (Maggie Gyllenhaal), and starts thinking, to paraphrase his own words, about how bad she makes his life look—and whether he can clean it up a little.

“Crazy Heart” has drawn a lot of comparisons with last year’s “The Wrestler,” and the parallels are obvious: a washed-up star with an alliterative stage name, his past littered with poor choices and estranged family members, still making a living out of the dregs of his former fame, looks for a chance at a comeback. There’s also an obvious difference between the two, which I won’t spoil either movie by spelling out. But a less obvious, though equally key, difference is that unlike Randy “the Ram” Robinson, Bad Blake isn’t really hung up on his glory days, or at least isn’t wondering where they went. One senses he knows perfectly well where they went, and knows that he has only himself—or perhaps, more accurately, his alcoholism—to blame. Maybe that’s why “Crazy Heart,” even at its lowest moments, lacks the wrenching pathos of “The Wrestler,” and why Bad’s slide towards irrelevance always seems reversible in a way that Randy’s never was. (That’s not, by the way, to underestimate the destructive power of alcoholism, though one could fairly argue the writers of “Crazy Heart” do underestimate it.)

I can see why people like “Crazy Heart.” It’s a spare, modest film that feels like a labor of love, as indeed it was for director-writer Scott Cooper - elevated not just by Bridges’ bona fide musical chops but his ability to dig deep into his character while revealing its essence sparingly, gradually, in glimmers and shards. Even though the broad outlines of the plot are predictable, the smaller strokes are less so. The pacing of Bad’s attempt at rehabilitation is more delayed and more jagged than it would be in a glossier Hollywood version of the same story, though it ultimately comes to a resolution that feels too neat and swift after what came before. The coda, however, is nicely understated, even if it can’t resist, at the last, an unnecessary dollop of sugary sentiment.

But the film’s main weakness, I think, is also one of its most central features: its focus on the romance between Bad and Jean. The problem isn’t so much that Jean is young enough to be Bad’s daughter as that the relationship itself isn’t particularly interesting. Jean’s a journalist and a single mother, which one might expect would make her a multidimensional person; but in fact, we see only two facets of her—the nurturing mother and the nurturing lover/muse—and the inevitable conflict that arises between those two roles. Despite Gyllenhaal’s best efforts, her character remains something of a cipher, and her whole relationship with Bad more of a necessary catalyst for his own development than an intrinsically engaging story. Which might be ok if so much of the movie wasn’t devoted to showing that story unfold.

Personally, I was much more interested in the relationship between Bad and his former protégé, country superstar Tommy Sweet (an uncredited, and surprisingly good, Colin Farrell), whose own career skyrocketed at the same time that Bad’s faded. Bad agrees, with ill grace, to open for Tommy, and some of the best scenes in the movie involve the complicated, prickly interactions between the fallen mentor and the student who eclipsed him. Bad may regard Tommy as the last man on earth he should be asking for a favor, while Tommy’s mainly looking out for his own interest, yet underneath the tension there’s a ghost of an old camaraderie and a vein of genuine, mutual respect for each other’s talents that comes out in both their conversations and their musical collaborations. I couldn’t help wishing, more than once, that Cooper had made a movie about the history of Bad and Tommy, rather than of Bad and Jean. But I guess that story wouldn’t feel as much like a classic country song.

GRADE: B

Also saw:

THE IMAGINARUM OF DOCTOR PARNASSUS

directed by Terry Gilliam
starring Heath Ledger, Christopher Plummer, Tom Waits, Verne Troyer, Lily Cole, Andrew Garfield, with appearances by Johnny Depp, Jude Law, and Colin Farrell

Yep, this is the one—Heath Ledger’s last film, which he hadn’t finished shooting at the time of his death. Undeterred, director Terry Gilliam went ahead and finished it without him, hiring no fewer than three major stars—Johnny Depp, Jude Law, and Colin Farrell—to play Ledger’s character in the scenes that were left.

Inspired or misconceived? Neither, actually. No doubt “The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus” would have been best served if Ledger had been able to play himself all the way through. Still, Gilliam’s idea isn’t as crazy as it sounds, given that the movie’s a fantasy and the scenes in question involve incursions into a kind of dreamworld, in which a Heath turning into a Johnny, Jude, or Colin is no stranger than some of the other goings-on.

But in any event we get Heath for most of the movie, playing Tony, a silver-tongued trickster who by chance falls in with a rickety traveling show that looks like it was displaced from a 19th century carnival: there’s a wry dwarf (Verne Troyer), a beautiful young girl (model Lily Cole), the Puck-ish youth in love with her (Andrew Garfield), and the presiding seer, Dr. Parnassus (Christopher Plummer), who’s also the girl’s father. It’s Parnassus’ special mental powers that create the show’s principal and only attraction, the Imaginarium—the aforementioned dreamworld, a projection of each entrant’s desires, fantasies, and fixations. In addition to this rare talent, Parnassus also boasts unusual longevity and a centuries-old relationship with the devil (Tom Waits) that’s become a kind of eternal game of oneupmanship. At stake in the latest round of their matchup is Parnassus’ daughter, who belongs to whichever of them is first to win five souls. Tony soon becomes entangled in the game, and complicates it with his own self-interested machinations.

“Doctor Parnassus” is a head trip—more “Baron Munchausen” than “12 Monkeys”—that makes less sense the more you think about it. My advice: don’t try too hard to make sense of it or read some complicated allegory into it. Rather, just enjoy the trip to Gilliam-land, with its visual delights, funhouse whimsy, and moments of loopy humor that call to mind the old Monty Python days—and, of course, Ledger’s final performance. He’s in charming rogue mode here, which, like his highly underrated turn in “Casanova,” is always a pleasure to watch. As for his understudies, they gamely attempt to pick up where he left off, though their effectiveness seems to diminish from one stand-in to the next. (Or maybe I’m just unfairly prejudiced against Colin Farrell, who to be fair, is usually a better actor than I like to admit.) Still, perhaps the most positive sign for “Parnassus” is that it doesn’t end up being overshadowed by the presence of Heath Ledger: if anything, it’s most focused on the Plummer-Waits dynamic, with Ledger playing an almost incidental, though very engaging, member of a cheerfully chaotic ensemble. Somehow I suspect that that would have been exactly how Ledger would have wanted this, his last role, to be remembered.

GRADE: B

Putting the "Golden" in the Golden Globes

2010-01-17T23:40:00.010-05:00

In the immortal words of Deep Throat: Follow the money.

Ricky Gervais may have been joking about bribing the president of the Hollywood Foreign Press Association...but it sure does look like the movies that won the big awards tonight were (for the most part) the ones that could have afforded to buy them!

You have the two best picture prizes, as well as best director, going to two of the biggest box office hits of the year - AVATAR for drama, THE HANGOVER for comedy. (Side note: Seriously, THE HANGOVER? Granted, I'm one of a minority who hasn't seen that movie and so have no standing to complain...still, I devoutly hope that win's not a harbinger for Oscar nominations. And was it really necessary to invite Mike Tyson on stage?)

You have best actress for drama going to Sandy Bullock, who's had her most commercially successful year evah and won for her role in a $200m+ hit (THE BLIND SIDE). And you have best actress for comedy going to Meryl Streep for JULIE/JULIA (though the latter was probably due more to the fact that everyone bows down to the awesomeness that is Meryl Streep.)

You have best actor for comedy going to - probably the biggest WTF of the night, for me anyway - Robert Downey, Jr. in SHERLOCK HOLMES. I mean, really, HFPA? He was good enough in an entertaining enough film, but hardly the best of the year. On the plus side, Downey's was one of the funnier acceptances of the night. (Though I agree with his wife: Matt Damon should've won for "The Informant!")

Ok, so Jeff Bridges did nab the other best actor award for a still relatively unseen indie movie about a washed-up country singer...but that one was pretty much in the bag ever since buzz started building for "Crazy Heart." After all, Bridges is a well liked and highly respected actor who's never quite gotten the recognition he's deserved, and people in the industry (I'm told) see this as his year.

Anyway, tonight's ceremony was otherwise relatively uneventful. Several people acknowledged the ridiculousness of the event when juxtaposed with the devastation in Haiti; even more took cheap potshots at NBC, notwithstanding that's who was televising the event. Other points of note:

THE GOOD

Meryl's speech. Classy and heartfelt.

"The Weary Kind" winning Best Song. (No one seemed to get T Bone Burnett's Ryan Bingham/"Up in the Air" joke, but I did!)

"Glee" winning Best TV comedy! No, I don't necessarily, objectively think it deserved the award, but I do love that show...and I was already tired of "30 Rock" winning.

"Mad Men" winning Best TV drama again. I'm not tired of that.

Drew Barrymore. Is so adorable - just took the lead from Amy Adams for the annual Hollywood cuteness award.

Martin Scorsese making the Cecil B DeMille award presentation mercifully short, and using it to show just how much the man loves movies. It's positively heartwarming, even if his own movies usually aren't.

James Cameron mellowing out and actually sounding almost humble - no more "king of the world" from him! Even gave a nice nod to his ex-wife, Kathryn Bigelow - though I, too, was hoping she'd sneak a win for Best Director for "The Hurt Locker." I can't really quarrel too much with Cameron getting it; while "Avatar" isn't perfect, Cameron's vision is undeniably extraordinary in a lot of ways. I just wish he could have split picture/director honors with Bigelow somehow. I guess I can hold out hope for the Oscars, but I'm not holding my breath.

THE BAD

The abovementioned correlation between Big Box Office and Big Awards. Come on, HFPA, try to set the Academy a good example. Not that big box office necessarily means a bad movie...but still. ("The Hangover"? Really?)

Harrison Ford mispronouncing Vera Farmiga's name.

What was with all the plunging necklines and eye-popping cleavage? Not a fan. Then again, I'm not the target audience for that kind of thing.

THE UGLY

Sally Hawkins' dress. Sorry, darling, that eyesore stood out - not in a good way - in a fairly tame evening. Even Chloe Sevigny's mass of ruffles (ripped or not) wasn't that outlandish.

THE RANDOM

Paul McCartney giving the best animated film award - a point he himself noted before implying that all animation was the product of trippin'...Maybe the last animated films he saw were "Dumbo" and "Fantasia."

STARTED OFF WELL BUT WENT OFF THE RAILS

Christoph Waltz's acceptance speech for Best Supporting Actor. That planetary metaphor got a little out of hand - it ended up making Quentin Tarantino sound like the center of the universe.

STARTED OFF BADLY BUT GOT BETTER

Ricky Gervais: his opening fell flat - he seemed extremely ill at ease, and I don't think it was just his usual schtick - but he improved as the night went on (maybe it was the beer he was swigging), and got away with a fair number of oh-no-he-didn't zingers. Loved how he snuck off the stage before Mel Gibson could take a whack at him.

And that's it from me...time to go revise my Oscars predictions!

Belated R.I.P: Eric Rohmer

2010-01-17T17:14:00.004-05:00

Somehow it never feels quite right, in the wake of a disaster that kills tens of thousands people in some of the most horrible ways imaginable, to focus on the simultaneous but unrelated, natural death of one fortunate and privileged man, however great or accomplished. Yet it's in the name of something greater than that one man - namely, his art - that we should remember someone like Eric Rohmer. I'm hardly a connoisseur of his work, having only seen two of his films (Conte de printemps and Le rayon vert), but for me he embodies an aesthetic so dramatically (and refreshingly) different from the dominant M.O. of American movies that it is, in its own way, as quietly necessary as it is, sadly, now a little bit more likely to fade with his passing.

I'm talking about films that revolve around conversations - true, generally conversations between privileged, educated, self-analytical, otherwise relatively unremarkable people, but still nonetheless films that are most interested in the act of communication and the layers of character it reveals, rather than the more immediate visual and sensory stimuli we tend to look for in our movies. The closest analogue I can think of in American film is Richard Linklater's "Before Sunrise"/"Before Sunset" diptych, though I suppose some trace of Rohmer's spirit lingers on in any film that is considered "talky" or character-centered rather than plot or action-driven. Here's hoping that spirit lives on and continues to find audiences, now and in the future.

Best of the Decade: My Top 25 Films of the "Aughts"

2010-01-10T23:46:00.016-05:00

It would be more accurate to call this list “25 movies of the aughts that resonated most with me.” Strictly speaking, these aren't necessarily the 25 movies I believe were the greatest artistic accomplishments of the decade, or the 25 movies I most enjoyed watching, although many of the titles I picked fall into one or both of those categories. Rather, these are the films that had the strongest and most enduring impact on me—the ones that moved me most when I first saw them and that continue to linger in my brain.

Obviously, there were many, many more movies than this that I liked and seriously considered including. If ranking weren't so difficult and ultimately arbitrary, I would have made a top 50 list and easily been able to fill it.

But here are my 25, for what they're worth:

1. You Can Count on Me (2000)

How many movies focus on a brother-sister relationship and really get it right? Kenneth Lonergan’s funny, tender, sharply written debut feature is one of the few, and also one of the few movies that truly feels like a “slice of life”—real life, not Hollywood’s version of life. This is also the movie that made me fall in love with both Laura Linney and Mark Ruffalo.

2. In the Mood for Love (2000)

No one matches director Wong Kar-Wai for cinematic poetry—or co-stars Tony Leung and Maggie Cheung for soulful longing as two neighbors in 1960’s Hong Kong who are at once tied to one another and doomed to remain apart.

3. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)

I love this movie less for Michel Gondry’s stylistic playfulness, fun as it is, than for the simple truth of its central message: Love hurts, relationships fail, but enduring the pain, along with the joy, gives meaning to our existence.

4. Before Sunset (2004)

A mini-miracle: a movie about two people (Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy) who spend the entire time walking and talking on the streets of Paris—and who never once lost my attention or sympathy. And I hadn’t even seen the 1995 prequel, “Before Sunrise” (which I now like even better than "Sunset"), at the time. The consummate movie for anyone who’s ever wondered “what if” about past relationships and other life’s choices.

5. Lord of the Rings – The Fellowship of the Ring (2001), The Two Towers (2002), and The Return of the King (2003)

I’m cheating a little here – but Lord of the Rings, more than any other trilogy I can think of, really merits being treated as one grand, 7+ hr saga. The epic film cycle of the decade, and deservedly so.

6. Master & Commander: The Far Side of the World (2003)

Stirring, beautifully filmed adventure of an English naval ship during the Napoleonic wars—but the best thing about it (as in the books by Patrick O’Brian on which it’s loosely based) is the friendship between Russell Crowe’s impulsive, man-of-action captain Jack Aubrey and Paul Bettany’s Stephen Maturin, ship’s surgeon and man of intellect.

7. Mulholland Drive (2001)

Arguably David Lynch’s most accessible film, but still wildly trippy and weirdly mesmerizing. Possibly the most creative take ever on the dark side of the Hollywood dream.

8. A.I. (2001)

One day I will write an essay about why this is one of Spielberg’s most brilliant and most misunderstood films. Oh, and by the way, that ending everyone hates? To me, it’s the perfect ending for the movie, though possibly despite rather than because of Spielberg’s intentions.

9. Solaris (2002)

In my opinion, an overlooked gem—ostensibly a sci-fi film with philosophical underpinnings (it was derived from a classic sci-fi novel and a 1972 film by Russian director Andrei Tarkovsky), in Steven Soderbergh’s hands it becomes a haunting meditation on love and whether or not we can ever truly know or remember the ones we love. George Clooney and Natasha McElhone are excellent as the lovers over whom “death shall have no dominion.”

10. City of God (2002)

Searing portrait of life in the slums of Rio that somehow also manages to be a rousing, kinetic coming-of-age tale about one boy whose eye for the horrors around him also provide him a chance of escape.

11. Capturing the Friedmans (2003)

Highly disturbing, totally unforgettable documentary about a family who may have been victims of a witch hunt, their own deeply rooted dysfunction, or both.

12. Ratatouille (2007)

The best film in the Pixar canon...and that’s saying a lot.

13. Elephant (2003)

Gus Van Sant’s impressionistic depiction of a “normal high school day” brutally interrupted by a Columbine-style massacre has a strange lyrical beauty that only heightens the jarring effect of the violence, when it happens. Controversial when it first came out, this film seems (unjustly) all but forgotten today.

14. Junebug (2005)

Best known as Amy Adams’ big break (and still my favorite performance of hers to date), but it’s the entire family dynamic so seamlessly captured by the entire cast—including Alessandro Nivola, Celia Weston, Ben McKenzie, and Embeth Davidtz as the foreign outsider—that makes this film feel so unforced and organic. A movie that grows on you.

15. Far From Heaven (2003)

Critics love to analyze it as Todd Haynes’ homage to Douglas Sirk—but even without having seen any of Sirk’s “weepies,” I can tell you this movie made me weep. Yet it isn’t one bit cheaply manipulative—just exquisitely, almost unbearably beautiful and ineffably sad.

16. Lust, Caution (2007)

It’s not about the sex, though the movie’s probably best known for its NC-17-rated sex scenes. It’s about the tragedy of pitting love against the currents of history (specifically, the Japanese occupation of Shanghai before and during WWII), portrayed with all of Ang Lee’s characteristic nuance and subtlety, and anchored by sensational performances by Tony Leung and Tang Wei.

17. There Will Be Blood (2007)

The hypnotic power of this film lies in its ability to draw you entirely into the warped worldview of its obsessed and maniacal main character. Daniel Day-Lewis’ portrayal of Daniel “I drink your milkshake” Plainview is one for the ages.

18. Bamboozled (2000)

Spike Lee’s rage boils over in this trenchant satire of the African American presence in pop culture, causing the movie to go a bit off the rails near the end—but that doesn’t prevent it from being brilliant, shocking, and fiercely funny up till then. Warning: it may take some time to pick your jaw back off the floor after seeing the historical imagery of racism Lee bombards at the screen.

19. The Prestige (2006)

It may not be high art, but there's no denying it's entertainment of the highest order - appropriate for a movie that explores the fine line between artistry and showmanship. Beyond the obvious surface pleasures of a plot involving a deadly rivalry between two master tricksters, it evokes the heady wonder and underlying fears of a time when magic, science, and the supernatural coexisted - and sometimes overlapped - in the public consciousness.

20. Caché (2005)

I’m still amazed at how deftly this enigmatic, unsettling film plays with the concept of the voyeur and turns it into a study of guilt and oppression. I love the way its use of perspective constantly keeps the viewer just off balance, and though it isn't exactly a horror film, it has one moment that gave me the biggest shock I've had as a moviegoer in the entire past decade.

21. Million Dollar Baby (2004)

I don’t love Clint Eastwood as much as the Academy does, but this, in my opinion, is his finest film. His spare style suits the gritty material, and makes the flood of tears it inevitably unleashes feel well earned.

22. Volver (2006)

Death and ghosts may propel the plot of this film (admittedly the only one by Almodóvar from this decade that I’ve seen), but it’s really an irresistible celebration of life, brimming with a vitality and richness so wonderfully embodied in Penelope Cruz’s voluptuous eyes. Maybe the real reason I love this movie is because she looks so frickin’ gorgeous in it.

23. Marie Antoinette (2006)

Yes, this, and not Lost in Translation, which I also liked very much, is the Sofia Coppola film that made my list. It shows the evolution of Coppola’s distinct style—airy, delicate, and feather-light, almost evanescent, without being insubstantial—in creating a dreamlike vision of the opulent, bewildering universe of the ill-fated teen queen.

24. 2046

The “sequel,” of sorts, to In the Mood for Love, and best seen alongside it. Not quite as heart-wrenching as its predecessor partly because it’s about a man (Tony Leung again) who’s closed himself off against feeling—but still a spellbinding mood piece.

25. About a Boy (2002)

Almost too lightweight for the list, this movie makes the cut because it’s one I go back to for its warmth, its gentle humor, and its thoroughly convincing portraits of two boys (Hugh Grant being the much older one) who teach each other to grow up.

Special honorable mentions:

GEORGE CLOONEY has had a terrific run this decade as an actor, director, and producer. Although Solaris was the only one of his efforts that cracked my top 25 (ironically, it was probably by far his least successful commercially), he also starred in such excellent films as Ocean’s Eleven, O Brother, Where Art Thou, Good Night, and Good Luck, Syriana, Michael Clayton, and last year’s Up in the Air. Not too shabby for the guy who made his big-screen debut fleeing from killer tomatoes.

RICHARD LINKLATER for exploring avenues that stretch pretty far afield from his slacker pictures of the ’90s: in addition to directing and co-writing Before Sunset (see above), he used rotoscoped animation to explore questions of existence and reality—with surprising effectiveness—in Waking Life and A Scanner Darkly, but also delivered such lighter confections as School of Rock and the more recent Me & Orson Welles. Sure, Fast Food Nation flopped, but it sounded like an interesting failure, at least. Keep experimenting, Link!

ALFONSO CUARÓN for Y Tu Mamá También (which almost made the list), Children of Men, and the first Harry Potter adaptation that tried to do something other than a slavish scene-by-scene recreation of the books

WERNER HERZOG for continuing to document with his magnificently idiosyncratic style the quests of magnificently idiosyncratic, often insane individuals (see, e.g., Grizzly Man and Encounters at the End of the World, two movies that also almost made the top 25).

STEVEN SODERBERGH: I may not like all your films, but I like your variety, sir, and I admire your guts to pursue whatever project tickles your fancy. Carry on!

PIXAR: I can't express how refreshing it is to have a studio we can rely on for consistently high-quality cinema and child-friendly entertainment that doesn’t insult the adult intelligence. Here's hoping they keep it up into the "teens."

Top Ten Movies of 2009

2010-01-01T17:24:00.003-05:00

About this time every year, I find myself ruminating on the futility of "top ten" lists and then invariably making one anyway. This year, I have the double task of reflecting not only on the year just passed but on the last ten, as critics everywhere have been sharing their "best of the decade" (despite the fact that the decade technically didn't start until 2001 and therefore isn't over until 2010!). I'm still deciding what my favorite movies of the "aughts" were, but in the meantime, I've managed to cobble together my list for 2009.

It proved unexpectedly difficult. 2009 saw a bumper crop of films I graded "B+," that is, good, but not great (think three stars), which made it harder than usual to rank them; the ranking of the bottom half of my top ten ended up being more or less arbitrary. It was a year filled with movies elevated by terrific lead performances that almost (but not quite) made me forget flaws of writing, directing, or conception - Carey Mulligan in "An Education"; Colin Firth in "A Single Man"; Matt Damon in "The Informant!"; George Clooney and Vera Farmiga in "Up in the Air" - yet the very best movies were those that had no conventional "stars" at all. Not coincidentally, perhaps, it was also a banner year for animated films (and I haven't even seen "Coraline," "Ponyo," or "The Princess and the Frog"), which my list also reflects, and for promising debut features (Neil Blomkamp's "District 9," Tom Ford's "A Single Man," Duncan Jones' "Moon").

Now comes the disclaimer, another annual tradition: Because of the glut of good movies at the year's end and the annoying tendency of studios distributing foreign films not to release them outside NY and LA until well into the new year, there are many movies not in my top ten that might have been there had I had time and opportunity to see them. And then there are others that for one reason or another I simply missed. Specifically, I have not seen "Precious," "Inglourious Basterds," "Broken Embraces," "The White Ribbon," "Summer Hours," "The Road," "Bad Lieutenant," " The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus," and "Crazy Heart," to name just a few. With that caveat, here's my list, with reviews linked.

1. WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE

2. FANTASTIC MR. FOX

3. Tie: THE HURT LOCKER and DISTRICT 9

5. SOUL POWER

6. PUBLIC ENEMIES

7. MOON

8. UP

9. UP IN THE AIR

10. Tie: A SINGLE MAN and AN EDUCATION

Just missed the cut: BRIGHT STAR; THE INFORMANT!

Honorable Mentions: STAR TREK; DUPLICITY; (500) DAYS OF SUMMER; AVATAR

Top 25 of the decade coming soon...

December 2009 Movie Roundup

2009-12-31T00:24:00.001-05:00

As is customary for this time of year, I've spent the better part of the last couple of weeks trying to see as many movies as possible. Consequently, I won't have time to review them all before putting together a top ten list for the year - at least, not if I want that list to be somewhat timely.

So as an experiment in brevity, for each of the last five films I saw, I'm offering my thoughts in ten words or less. Think I can't do it? Think again!

INVICTUS (directed by Clint Eastwood; starring Morgan Freeman, Matt Damon)

Not a single unexpected moment. Yawn.

GRADE: B-

FANTASTIC MR. FOX (directed by Wes Anderson; voices of George Clooney, Jason Schwarzbaum, Michael Gambon, others; based on book by Roald Dahl)

Wes Anderson's whimsy put to best use since "Rushmore." Delightful.

GRADE: B+/A-

ME & ORSON WELLES (directed by Richard Linklater; starring Zac Efron, Christian McKay, Claire Danes)

Lightweight but enjoyable reminder that geniuses are often charismatic assholes.

GRADE: B

AVATAR (directed by James Cameron; starring Sam Worthington, Sigourney Weaver, Stephen Lang, Michelle Rodriguez, Giovanni Ribisi, voices of Zoe Saldana, CCH Pounder, others)

Clunky but gorgeous fantasy rewrite of the Western imperialist narrative.

GRADE: B/B+

A SINGLE MAN (directed by Tom Ford; starring Colin Firth, Julianne Moore, Matthew Goode, Nicholas Hoult, Ginnifer Goodwin)

Self-consciously arty yet poignant depiction of grief. Bravo Mr. Firth.

GRADE: B+

Note: If one of these films ends up in my top ten for 2009, I will make every effort to do a fuller review as soon as possible.

Stopping by Oz on a Snowy Evening

2009-12-20T00:39:00.000-05:00

Being snowbound today, which curtailed my original evening plans, I found myself watching "The Wizard of Oz" on TV. It was the first time I'd seen the movie the whole way through since I was a kid, and I had the pleasure of discovering (or rediscovering) the following:

1. I still wish Toto were my dog.

2. Judy Garland's Dorothy would be annoying if she weren't so adorable.

3. The whole Munchkinland sequence is shockingly trippy.

4. Glinda has a double chin. (Not knocking the actress, Billie Burke, who was 54 at the time and looked damned good for her age.)

5. The flying monkeys are still scary, but even scarier is the sight of nasty neighbor-lady transforming into the wicked witch during the tornado. That totally freaked me out as a kid.

6. Weakest song: "If I Were King of the Forest."

7. Best sidekick: Scarecrow, of course! Though I always found the Tin Man rather charming, too.

8. Best line: "Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!"

9. I don't think I cried when I watched the movie as a kid, but it makes me cry now. Not sure why. Something about Garland's performance, I think.

10. The movie holds up. Not that that should come as a surprise.

And now I have "If I Only Had a Brain/We're Off to See the Wizard" stuck in my head. Oh well, I've had far worse songs rattling around in there.

Gliding, rather than soaring, "Up in the Air"

2009-12-14T01:20:00.000-05:00

UP IN THE AIR

directed by Jason Reitman
starring George Clooney, Vera Farmiga, Anna Kendrick, Jason Bateman, Melanie Lynskey, J.K. Simmons, others
based (loosely) on the novel by Walter Kirn

True to its title, “Up in the Air” is about a man who’s only comfortable when in flight. Flight from what? From nothing and everything: fundamentally, from being grounded. But the question the film’s really concerned with is not what drives such a man, but what it takes to bring him down to earth. That focus proves to be both its strength and its weakness.

The man’s name is Ryan Bingham, and he prides himself on his state of permanent transience. First-class cabins, airport lounges, and hotel suites are his home, Hertz is his garage, and airline and hospitality employees are his friends. His most cherished goal is to gain admission to the one million mile club, and his motto is to carry as little baggage—of both the material and personal kind—as possible along the way.

He’s also good at his job, as only someone of his disposition could be. It’s a line of work most people would find intolerable: Downsizing companies hire him to deliver the bad news to their downsized employees, a task he performs with such smooth professionalism and such a credible imitation of empathy that it’s hard to imagine anyone other than George Clooney playing him at all convincingly. Still, Ryan’s job is clearly just a means to an end, in that it allows him to subsist on fleeting moments of connection that never need to be developed into anything more or require him to put down any roots anywhere. Naturally he feels threatened when a fresh-faced young Ivy League graduate, Natalie Keener (Anna Kendrick), arrives at his company with a revolutionary proposal—sack the schmoes through the Internet, save travel costs!—that threatens to up-end not only his business M.O. but his entire way of life. His only defense is to show her what he does and why firing via webcam is such an inadequate substitute.

The premise of “Up in the Air,” which uses clips of interviews with non-actors who were really laid off to underscore the impact of Ryan’s work, is at once timely and timeless, if a bit implausible. I’ve read conflicting accounts on whether or not traveling axe-men exist in reality, but even if they do, I find it hard to believe in entire companies that exist only to help lay off other companies’ employees. I found it even harder to believe that anyone in this purported business would take Natalie’s innovation seriously, as it hardly seems calculated to improve a service of already-dubious value. Still, the movie gets a lot of mileage out of her interactions with Ryan (Kendrick’s and Clooney’s comic timing is gold, and they play well off each other), and there’s a certain witty consonance between the different brands of isolation that Ryan and Natalie represent—the former with his gospel of traveling “light” and never stopping, the latter with her belief in the powers of going “glocal.” Inevitably, the two characters learn from each other that their philosophies simply can’t account for all the vagaries of human nature, especially the need for genuine, lasting human connection.

You may think you know where the story is going, especially once Ryan crosses paths with Alex (Vera Farmiga, never sexier), a fellow frequent flier who seems at first glance to be his female counterpart, at second his potential soulmate. But don’t be too sure: the script, which was co-written by the director, Jason Reitman (“Juno,” “Thank You For Smoking”), and loosely adapted from a novel by Walter Kirn, throws a curveball or two that may disappoint some viewers and pleasantly surprise others. The result is a very watchable, frequently very funny, and occasionally poignant film that strives to convey a deeply conventional message while simultaneously subverting a conventional narrative structure. Whether the one tends to undercut the other may depend on the individual viewer’s opinion of the message. If you’re already a believer in what the movie’s selling, you’ll likely see its approach as nuanced; if you’re a skeptic, you may see it as merely muddled.

In any event, much of “Up in the Air”’s effectiveness derives not so much from the writing as the acting. This is especially true of the two principal women in the movie, whose presence and rapport with Clooney are so strong they tend to conceal a certain thinness of characterization. The latter might be a deliberate choice, especially with respect to Alex, but the fact remains that she and Natalie are chiefly important not for themselves but for the reaction they elicit from Ryan. As for Ryan himself, he remains an enigma, even after we learn a little more about him and see his vulnerable side exposed. Yet he manages to acquire a gravitas, a claim on our sympathies, that can only be attributed to the depth of Clooney’s performance. That’s not to diminish its value; quite the contrary, it’s to his credit that our emotional investment in him feels honestly, if imperfectly, earned.

GRADE: B+

"Glee" Fall Finale: Sectionals!

2009-12-10T23:07:00.001-05:00

I have no great insights to offer on this week's "Glee," only this observation: I can't remember the last time a season finale so fully embodied both the best and worst aspects of the show overall. (Ok, so it wasn't exactly the season finale - but it's the last new episode until April, so it's at the very least a mid-season finale.) Plot holes galore, inconsistent characterization, too much treacly sentimentalism mixed with overly broad humor - yet it had a verve, an energy, a sly sparkle that in the end proved irresistible.

Was there ever any doubt that the McKinleyites would prevail at sectionals? That Finn would come back and rally them to victory? That Emma would not, in fact, marry Ken? Not for a minute. But I thought it was interesting that even though "Glee" did end up where we knew it was going, it didn't always take the obvious path. In fact, the episode was as remarkable for what it didn't show as what it did. There was no crowning moment of victory - no suspense-laden announcement of the winner - heck, we didn't even get to see the Gleeks' last number. (Probably because it was one we've seen them perform before - though I for one was hoping for a recap, since "Somebody to Love" happens to be my favorite "Glee" song.) There was no dramatic confrontation between Ken and Emma, or Ken and Will, and no scene of Will rushing in to interrupt the ceremony. (Thank goodness.)

Ok, so we did get to see Will rushing to intercept Emma just before she left - and the big kiss, of course. Have to say I'm a little ambivalent about the timing, even though the writers have obviously been building up to this all season. Will may have left his wife, but he's still married, and I don't see that divorce being a quick one. But who knows, the way "Glee" is paced, the proceedings may all be wrapped up by the time the show returns in the spring.

So very glad the ridiculous pregnancy lies are no longer continuing. And that Quinn is choosing to go it alone, at least for now. Wonder where she'll go live now?

Rachel once again proves that despite her staggering egotism, she is basically a good person. I'm glad she's finally starting to break through to the others. Their dislike, while plausible enough, was getting a bit tiresome.

Sue: same old same old. Jane Lynch is great, but that character is in danger of becoming too one-note. (Except when she reads to her differently abled sister, of course.) However, more Sue Sylvester also generally leads to MORE FIGGINS! Figgins cracks me up even more than Sue does. While he wasn't as funny today, he was oddly impressive - I wasn't expecting him to stand up to Sue. We'll see how long that lasts. Loved the little wink he gave Will afterwards.

On the musical front, we of course had to have the obligatory showstoppers. After all, it's sectionals, bitches! I actually hate the song "And I Am Telling You I Am Not Going," but there's no question Amber Riley (who plays Mercedes) is a vocal powerhouse. As is Lea Michele (Rachel), in a different way. Quite enjoyed her performance of "Don't Rain on My Parade," though in what musical universe is that a ballad? And in general, I wish that all of the songs weren't autotuned to death. These kids don't need it.

I could write reams about all of the flaws of both this episode and the season in general...yet I know I'll be suffering "Glee" withdrawal this time next week. There's really nothing else like it on TV these days. And that counts for a lot.

As Oscar Rush Time Approaches...

2009-11-30T23:06:00.000-05:00

I find myself oddly indifferent to most of the Oscar-baity films that are slated for release this holiday season. Which may mean that the end of December will be less crazed than usual for me when it comes to moviegoing...Then again, maybe not. I'll probably still want to see what the awards pundits are chattering about, even if I wouldn't be interested otherwise.

Here's where I stand right now in terms of movies that I've seen, want to see, and may want to see:

Movie most recently seen: RED CLIFF, or rather the condensed 2 1/2 hr version, cut for release in Western theaters, of John Woo's original 2-part extravaganza.

I'm not going to review it, mainly because my opinion has been heavily influenced by the opinions of others who tell me, on good authority, that it makes hash of both the history and literature on which it's based. "Red Cliff" purports to adapt the tale of a famous battle that took place during the 3rd-century Three Kingdoms period in China and is recounted in the even more famous Romance of the Three Kingdoms. The latter, for those of you who don't already know, is a classic work of Chinese literature that's basically the Asian equivalent of Homer's and Virgil's epics rolled into one. Having seen the film, all I'll say here is that it's great for visual spectacle - there are some truly fantastic action sequences - and the cast, which includes Takeshi Kaneshiro and the incomparable Tony Leung, bring plenty of star quality and sex appeal. But for accuracy...well, "Red Cliff" is about as faithful to its source material as "Troy" was to The Iliad. If that doesn't trouble you, then by all means go see it. Just don't assume that anything you see bears any resemblance to the original story.

If you want a more incisive and well-informed critique of "Red Cliff," check out my friend Jeff's review of the original uncut version. He comes down hard on the movie, but he knows what he's talking about - and I know others, well versed in The Three Kingdoms, who agree.

Movies currently out that I want to see:

FANTASTIC MR. FOX: Apparently the Wes Anderson film for people who hate Wes Anderson. As one of the latter (actually, I don't hate him, I just find him annoyingly twee - though I did like "Rushmore"), I'm curious.

ME & ORSON WELLES (not yet released in D.C.): Unlikely to be a serious Oscar contender in any category; nonetheless, I still want to see it, if only for the performance of the kid who plays young Orson Welles...No, not Zac Efron (though he's in it and I like him, too).

UNCERTAINTY (not yet released in D.C.): Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Lynn Collins play a young couple in parallel storylines, both set in New York. That description is a lot less interesting than some of the reviews I've read. Check out Salon and the NY Times.

BROKEN EMBRACES (not yet released in D.C.): Pedro Almodóvar's latest has not been garnering the rapturous praise that's usually showered on his work, but I'm intrigued by how much this movie seems to be a beautiful love letter to movies in general. Also, Penelope Cruz really shines in Almodóvar films.

and maybe

BAD LIEUTENANT: PORT OF CALL NEW ORLEANS: Nicolas Cage crazy put to good use. Werner Herzog at the helm. Hallucinated iguanas. Sounds profoundly weird but potentially fascinating.

THE PRINCESS AND THE FROG (not yet released in D.C.): I still can't figure out what exactly the plot of this movie is or why the heroine is dressed up as a princess when from what I understand she's a cook in 1920's New Orleans...but glowing early reviews and nostalgia, despite my better judgment, for the Disney princesses of my youth may bring me to this one. Awaiting more reviews.

Movies I'm trying to muster up the will to see:

PRECIOUS: Searing drama that puts a human face on an invisible underclass, or exploitative poverty porn that feeds off white liberal guilt? I'd like to judge for myself, but I'm not sure I have the stomach to watch the nonstop abuse that gets inflicted on the main character.

THE ROAD: Though the generally tepid reviews have probably doomed its Oscar chances (except maybe for acting), I'm curious to see how it measures up to the book. Also, I'm a Viggo Mortensen fan. But oy, the book was brutal, and the movie by all accounts no less so.

Upcoming movies I want to see:

UP IN THE AIR: I haven't been too excited by the trailers, but George Clooney's been on a roll lately, and the buzz coming out of the Toronto Int'l Film Festival for this film was very strong.

NINE: Early reports have been promising for "Chicago" director Rob Marshall's second movie musical, and the cast - Daniel Day-Lewis, Marion Cotillard, Penelope Cruz, Nicole Kidman, Judi Dench, Sophia Loren - speaks for itself.

A SINGLE MAN: Tiny arthouse picture about the day in the life of a grieving gay man (based on a book by Christopher Isherwood that I read in college but don't remember all that well) has been picking up huge Oscar buzz for star Colin Firth. Rest of cast, which includes Julianne Moore and others I'm forgetting, is also promising.

INVICTUS: Morgan Freeman as Nelson Mandela. Directed by Clint Eastwood. Co-starring Matt Damon. Based on an inspiring true story. Um, unless Clint totally misfired on this one, there's no way it isn't going to be an Oscar frontrunner. But we'll see what the critics say.

Waiting for reviews:

AVATAR: I'm not prejudiced against fantasy, at all, or against James Cameron (despite "Titanic" and the big head he grew after it), but those blue people look kinda...silly.

THE LOVELY BONES: Good cast + great director + acclaimed novel = no sure recipe for success. Besides, the premise of the novel (spirit of girl who was raped and murdered guides her family to find her killer?) always sounded simultaneously treacly and creepy to me. I'll keep an open mind.

THE IMAGINARIUM OF DOCTOR PARNASSUS: Terry Gilliam is a weird dude. Sometimes that pays off. Sometimes it doesn't.

Probably forgetting some movies, and others will probably crop up in due course that aren't currently on my radar. Stay tuned...

I'm Not a "Twilight" Fan

2009-11-23T23:32:00.000-05:00

but I have to say I'm struck, and a little perturbed, by the effect it's having...on young men.

They hate it. Oh, how they hate it - almost as much as their sisters and lady friends (and perhaps their mothers) love it.

Look at this ratings analysis of "New Moon," the second installment in the film franchise based on Stephanie Meyer's Twilight series. In particular, look at the breakdown of ratings by gender (and, to a lesser extent, age).

Now there's nothing particularly shocking about those stats. It's no secret that the Twilight books are wildly popular among girls and women, not so much among men. And when it comes to the movies, that male-female disparity is pretty much par for the course for female-targeted films - especially in the IMDB universe, where the voting demographic slants heavily male and under 40, and bad "chick flicks" tend to be rated much more harshly than bad action flicks. That's not to say that IMDB voters have bad taste - only that their tastes really do not favor movies focused on, or tailored for, women. (Take a look at the current "IMDB top 250," especially the top 25, and you'll see what I mean. Even though it's really not a bad list as far as it goes.) Vampire movies usually fare better, but apparently not movies about vampires who choose to brood romantically over misfit girls instead of biting and sucking them.

But there seems to be an unusual degree of hostility towards the "Twilight" phenomenon among many males of a certain age - i.e., anywhere between 14 and 40 - that's plainly reflected in the flood of "1" ratings from 60% of male IMDB votes (how many of these guys do you think even saw the movie?) and online discussion threads with titles like "ARE GIRLS REALLY THAT STUPID?" (Answer: Yes. Yes, they are. But you, my dear, are probably just as stupid in a different way.) And among fanboys in particular, who are disproportionately represented on IMDB, one senses real outrage that such a huge population of fangirls could spring up over something they perceive as so idiotic and so unworthy of being in the company of, say, "The Dark Knight," which "New Moon" for a while looked like it might unseat for the title of best 3-day opening. Imagine the chill that that prospect must have sent down many a fanboy spine!

Don't get me wrong: I'm not suggesting that "New Moon," which I haven't seen, is, in fact, as good a movie as "The Dark Knight" (though I continue to maintain that TDK is highly overrated), or even a good movie at all. The reviews, in fact, have led me to believe the contrary, which is why I have no plans to see it. Nor do I have any investment in the issue, as I haven't read a single one of the books; I've glanced once or twice at random pages of one or another of them and frankly been so repelled by the appalling prose style that I've never been able to read any further. (Meyer makes J.K. Rowling look like F. Scott Fitzgerald by comparison, and believe you me, much as I adore Rowling, prose style ain't her strong point.) But knowing what little I do of the premise of the series, I think I can understand the appeal it might have for impressionable girls - including the souls of impressionable girls that still lurk inside many otherwise mature and intelligent women.

And I think that the power of this appeal, as evidenced in the sheer obsessiveness of "Twilight"'s female fans, disturbs young men because they don't understand it, don't know where it comes from, and don't have a clue how to harness it. (Whereas their older fellow men in Hollywood, I'm afraid, understand only enough to make money from it.) Is the hysteria silly? Yes. Is it threatening? Well, I'll refrain from citing feminist chapter and verse on male fears of female sexuality, but I do believe it applies here. The "Twilight" case especially confounds men because what it sexualizes and romanticizes to the point of absurdity is, well, abstinence. Chastity. Unfulfilled desire. Not something that most young guys are likely to find compelling. Obviously I'm stereotyping broadly, but not, to my my mind, baselessly.

Ultimately what both amuses and annoys me about male backlash against "New Moon" - which echoes, in magnified form, a similar reaction I saw to the "Sex and the City" movie (admittedly, a very poor movie) - is how lacking in self-awareness it is. The same dudes who rail about how bad the movie is, and how dumb girls must be to fantasize about Robert Pattison or the werewolf-boy with the killer abs, see no irony in giving far higher ratings to the equally, if not more, terrible "Transformers" movies and fantasizing about Megan Fox. Maybe the difference is they know that Megan Fox is just Megan Fox. Somehow, though, I doubt it.

Sentimental "Education": The Story of a Bored, Brilliant, Before-Beatles Young Girl

2009-11-16T00:28:00.000-05:00

AN EDUCATION

directed by Lone Scherfig
starring Carey Mulligan, Peter Sarsgaard, Alfred Molina, Cara Seymour, Dominic Cooper, Rosamund Pike, Olivia Williams, Emma Thompson

“An Education” is that rare breed of film, a throwback that still manages to be delightfully fresh. At its most basic level, it’s a tale of a young girl, hungry for life, who meets an older, worldlier man she thinks is the answer to everything she wants—only to discover he really, really isn’t. Nothing new here, except the particular character of the girl. But that, as it turns out, makes all the difference.

The movie takes place in 1961, when Britain was at its squarest, dullest, and grayest—or so it seems, anyway, to Jenny (Carey Mulligan), a bright 16-year-old stuck in a prosaic corner of London with her loving but hopelessly bourgeois parents (Alfred Molina and Cara Seymour). Jenny yearns for a world filled with high culture and sophistication, in the form of fine art, music, and films (preferably French ones), and, in her words, “people who know lots about lots.” Her one hope lies in gaining admission to Oxford. For she’s the star of her class at her prep school, and she’s got the full driving force of her parents, especially her anxious, status-conscious father, behind her.

Then Jenny meets David (Peter Sarsgaard), an attractive man in his 30’s who seems to offer her a much quicker, pleasanter path to her dreams. His occupation and background may be a bit mysterious, but she knows right away that he’s just the kind of people whose society she craves, with his easy, agreeable manners and his air of cultivation, his expensive car and his superlative taste in music and flowers. Before long he’s squiring her to classical concerts, fashionable West End supper clubs, and high-end art auctions—never alone (he’s too canny for that), but in the company of his affable, beautifully dressed friends (Dominic Cooper and Rosamund Pike). David is so smooth he even convinces Jenny’s parents that he’s a man of influence who can help elevate their beloved daughter to a better class. It’s all an act, of course, that eventually, inevitably comes crashing down, forcing Jenny to learn that there are no shortcuts to the life she desires.

That description makes “An Education” sound preachier than it actually is. In fact, the film treads almost too lightly for its own good. Based on the memoir of a British journalist, Lynn Barber, as adapted by Nick Hornby, Britain’s best-known comic chronicler of British boy-men, and the Danish director of “Italian for Beginners,” it maintains a breeziness of tone and a gentleness towards its characters that tends to gloss over the darker aspects of Jenny’s story. This occasionally strains credulity: in particular, Jenny’s parents seem absurdly naive in the face of David’s predations, even if one understands why they might have the incentive for willful self-deception. And though the movie doesn’t avoid showing David’s unsavory side, including the shady business ventures that fund his courtship of Jenny, it doesn’t dwell on their uglier social implications; they merely serve to confirm the basic point we already know—namely, that David’s a scoundrel.

What gives the film depth and grounding is the quality of the acting, which helps fill out the underwritten characters and render the unlikely developments more plausible. Molina makes the often frustrating character of Jenny’s father surprisingly sympathetic, while Sarsgaard, as David, strikes a careful balance between charming and slightly creepy. Olivia Williams is also excellent as Jenny’s concerned English teacher, and the great Emma Thompson pops up briefly and entertainingly as the headmistress of Jenny’s school. It’s always a pleasure to see Thompson on screen, even if her role here borders on caricature.

But it’s obviously Jenny who makes the movie, and thanks in large part to Mulligan’s vivid, confident performance, she emerges as one of the most fully realized young female protagonists to appear in any movie this year. Virginal but not artless, precocious but not wise, winsome but never cloying, she’s ultimately too smart and too resilient to be crushed by David’s perfidy, her parents’ foolishness, or her teachers’ disapproval. Mulligan, who’s been picking up a lot of well-deserved Oscar buzz, sparkles in a wholly believable way: watching her, we can only believe that her Jenny will take this experience just enough, but not too much, to heart, and become all the stronger for it. Here’s hoping the same holds true for Mulligan as an actress.

GRADEL B+

"Mad Men" Season 3 Finale: Made of Awesome!

2009-11-09T00:33:00.001-05:00

“Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce, how may I help you?”
–Joan!

That, right there, says it all. After an often-punishing season that seemed to be building to the collapse of the “Mad Men” universe and much associated misery, Weiner & co. instead presented us with a holiday basket of a finale. I don't know if I'd call "Shut the Door. Have a Seat" the best MM episode ever, but it was without a doubt one of the most satisfying and purely enjoyable. A corporate gut-and-run that plays like a ’60s heist film! Don, Bert, and Roger allies again! Peggy, Pete, and Joan back in the SC fold! Add to that Don having to give Peggy, and even Pete (admittedly under duress), the props they deserve, Lane Pryce throwing in his lot with the Yanks and finally telling PP&L where to get off, and plenty of guffaw-inducing lines to go around (golden pork chops! nervous poodles!), and there’s really not much more that any MM fan could desire.

In fact, the Great Sterling Coup was more than most fans probably imagined even in their headiest dreams. Who among us can honestly say we saw it coming? While I recall some speculation from a few particularly prescient folks that Don, Roger, and Bert might try to buy back Sterling Cooper, I doubt anyone could have foreseen that Don and Roger would set aside their grievances with one another, that Bert Cooper would get his mojo back (a beautiful thing to see), that Pryce’s indeterminate position would prove vitally useful, and, perhaps most importantly, that Don would finally swallow his pride and acknowledge the need to make others feel valued. It was like a tonic to see the fun side of “Mad Men”—which we haven’t really seen in a while—and all of our favorites together again, humming like a newly refitted machine. Well, all of our favorites minus Sal (who seems permanently uninvited from the party, given the continued importance of Lucky Strike) + Harry Crane, who continues to stumble his way up the career ladder. Does the man’s dumb luck never run out? Personally, I’d swap him out for Paul, who at least gives me a good laugh now and again, and whom I felt a twinge of sympathy for in the moment he realized, once again, he was being left behind.

Of course we don’t get to this point without an obligatory trip to Don’s dark side. The other major storyline of the episode—the Draper divorce—not surprisingly got overshadowed by the rebirth of Sterling Cooper. Yet the two plots are integrally related, as the implosion of Don’s family life causes him to reevaluate and take new direction in his professional life. The realization doesn’t come easily, to say the least: Don’s confrontation of Betty about Henry Francis was nakedly ugly and scary, not to mention hypocritical, and his goodbyes to Sally and Bobby heartbreaking. But ultimately he seemed to accept that that phase of his life, like his time at Sterling Cooper I, is over, and it’s time to start building a new one.

As for Betty and Henry, I find their pairing somewhat more interesting than most MM viewers seem to, but not so much that I want to see it front and center next season. That said, if they do end up marrying, I wouldn’t mind seeing them pop up occasionally as a rising power couple.

Which brings me to the broader question for MM: What next? And when next? Truthfully, I have no idea. I don't know whether season 4 will pick up a few months or a few years in the future. I don't know if the new Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce will hit the ground running or flounder initially, or how much of the growing pains we'll see. More generally, I’ve been wondering for some time whether Don Draper—and by extension Sterling Cooper—will move forward with the sea changes of the ’60s, or be left in their wake. I’m still wondering. But they have Peggy, and they have Pete, and they have a reenergized Don. And to me, that means the world is theirs for the taking.

Some favorite moments (there were so many!)

-Trudy signaling to Pete - from another room, no less! - that he's going off the rails ("Peter, may I speak to you for a moment?"), followed by him shuffling his feet like a little boy and Don smirking. It's official, I'm on team Pete & Trudy. Though it'll be interesting to see what sharing a desk will do to the Pete-Peggy dynamic.

-Pete's nervously loud "Hey everybody, Harry Crane is here!"

-Bert Cooper threatening to lock Harry in the storeroom

-Don kicking down the door to the Art Dept.

-"Very good. Happy Christmas!"

-Every line out of Roger's mouth. Does John Slattery ever not kill in his delivery?

-Every moment involving Joan

-Every moment involving Roger & Joan

-This exchange:
Roger: Peggy, can you get me some coffee?
(A beat)
Peggy: No.

ETA: Did Don really say to Peggy "I will spend the rest of my life trying to hire you?" I heard "won't." But "will" makes more sense in context, and makes that scene, in retrospect, quite moving.

This Blanche-tt Doesn't Need Our Kindness, Thanks

2009-11-08T20:22:00.000-05:00

The other night, I saw Cate Blanchett play Blanche DuBois at the Kennedy Center in D.C. She’s the marquee name in a touring production of A Streetcar Named Desire staged by the Sydney Theatre Company (which Blanchett and her husband co-direct) and directed by Liv Ullmann (aka Ingmar Bergman’s muse).

Blanchett aside, it’s a solid, perfectly respectable, unexceptional production. The staging isn’t particularly imaginative, but then Streetcar isn’t a play that needs much visual pizzazz. Joel Edgerton is quite good as the crudely territorial Stanley; the rest of the cast is competent, though some of them struggle a bit with the accents.

But what about Blanchett? Was she an iconic Blanche?

Well, she gave a strong performance. “Strong,” indeed, may be the operative word here: as an actress, Blanchett radiates such natural strength that I wasn’t sure how she’d play a woman I think of as, if not weak, certainly fragile and very, very damaged. She got around that difficulty by choosing to highlight Blanche’s theatricality – not a bad choice, considering the character is nothing if not the textbook drama queen. But as a consequence, her Blanche flies her freak flag a little earlier than I was expecting. This may well be by design; I’m just accustomed to thinking of Blanche DuBois as a woman who unravels by degrees, and is finally pushed over the edge when she sees her last, slender hope dashed. Blanchett does effectively capture her character’s caged desperation, though her voice would occasionally take on a steely resonance that, while thrilling, I couldn’t help thinking would easily cow even the most brutish Stanley Kowalski. In the end, of course, she’s broken, even though the rape scene isn’t staged as an unambiguous rape. One touch I liked was a brief tableau, shortly after the deed, showing Stanley passed out and Blanche sitting on the far side of the bed, her back to the audience. The slump of her shoulders in that moment conveyed more than the entire final scene that followed.

All in all, it was an impressive star turn by an impressive actress, if not quite the interpretation of the character I had in mind. When she was on stage, it was impossible to take one’s eyes off her—and isn’t that all that ultimately matters?

"Mad Men" Ep. 3.12: "The Grown-Ups"

2009-11-01T23:41:00.000-05:00

And so, despite suggestions in interviews that he would not deal directly with The Assassination, Matt Weiner chooses to tackle it head-on in the penultimate episode of the season.

More than most shows, the episode titles for "Mad Men" provide a ready-made framework for analysis of the show. This week's episode bears the title "The Grown-Ups," which immediately posits the natural question: Who are the grown-ups here? In an episode where a father figure consistently avoids or denies reality, a little girl comforts her mother rather than the other way around, and the most senior characters put immediate social obligations ahead of a national crisis, that answer is left deliberately murky.

I haven't anything to compare the JFK assassination with other than 9/11, but based on my memory of the latter and what I've read and heard about the former, I found the depiction of that day and its aftermath quite effective, if not especially original, and the reactions of the various characters 100% believable. (I wonder what the veddy British Pryce made of the whole thing?) Everyone behaved pretty much within character, from Roger's angry, almost comical bemusement ("Someone go buy a cake!") at his daughter's ghost town of a wedding reception - partly mitigated by a great toast - to the sight of distraught Carla sinking down on the sofa next to an equally distraught Betty and lighting up (two things you can bet she'd never do on any other day), to the growing solidarity of Pete and Trudy, who were totally awesome for flipping Sterling Cooper the bird...though I have to say Trudy looked a-ma-zing in that blue dress and I was sorry she didn't get a chance to show it off. And, of course, Peggy's shock upon realizing that Duck withheld the news from her so he could still get his "nooner." (tm Paul Kinsey, who made the most of his two lines in this episode.)

But the person whose reaction struck me the most was Don's, whose instinct to deny, deny, deny, and offer the one assurance he couldn't possibly back up - that "everything will be all right" - only led to the rapid crumbling of his universe, which had already started to buckle in the last episode. This may have been the first episode in the entire run of "Mad Men" in which I felt totally, completely, unreservedly sorry for Don, even though in so many ways he had it coming to him. It crushed me to watch him trying to be a good father in the beginning, to connect with Betty on the dance floor when her mind was clearly elsewhere (and really, Betty, how could you be so unresponsive to the look he was giving you? I melted, and I've been a longtime skeptic of the Irresistible Sexual Powers of Don Draper), and, near the end, to prevent her from running off to meet Henry Francis. And you could feel his utter devastation when Betty delivered the bombshell line: "I don't love you anymore." (And, of the kiss: "I didn't feel a thing." Ouch!!!) From the look on his face, I'm forced to conclude he loves her after all, or at least thinks he loves her. More likely, he just loves what she represents to him. But still. It hurts. It hurts to be told you're not loved. And what makes it most painful, to quote a poster on Television Without Pity,

This was exactly his worst nightmare - that, in seeing his true self, Betty would not love him and he would lose everything. Of course, it was a self-fulfilling prophesy. By lying to Betty all these years, and seeking solace outside of his marriage, he pretty much guaranteed this would be Betty's reaction. But it is something I think could break him.

I hope not. I like vulnerable Don Draper much more than imperious jerk Don Draper, but I don't want to see a broken Don Draper. I thought it was interesting that he didn't think to call or visit Suzanne, though I was bracing myself for it. OTOH, it was frustrating, though not unexpected, that he immediately fell back into his default mode: Deny. But of course it isn't working, as even the children noticed the next morning. Or at least, Sally did.

As for Betty, it's hard to tell what her next step will be. Notice she didn't tell Don she was leaving him....yet. Will she go for Henry? His proposal might seem like it came out of left field, but ever since he first appeared, I've always gotten the vibe that he might want more than a mere affair, notwithstanding hints that he's had plenty of those in the past. I just hope Betty's learned enough from her first marriage not to spring into another with a man she barely knows.

I also thought it was interesting that the writers once again chose to put Betty and Pete - two characters who don't directly intersect very often - on parallel tracks. Betty's own pause on the brink of a huge decision mirrored Pete's own dilemma after realizing that he has no place at SC. Will he take the plunge, now that Trudy's signed off on it? Will he go work for Duck? (Will he find out about Duck & Peggy?)

All this remains to be seen. Still one more episode this season to find out!

ETA: Alan Sepinwall makes the same observation about the Betty-Pete parallel, but I swear I didn't cop it off him.

Random notes:

-The demarcation between grown-ups and children may have been blurred, but in some instances it was very clear, e.g., the Sterling family. Good lord, but Margaret is a brat in need of a spanking. Mona, however, was fabulous, as even Roger acknowledged.

-That AquaNet ad will have to be revamped, though Peggy seemed to be suggesting it wouldn't?

-Best line, from drunk Jane, re: JFK: "He was so young and handsome...And now I'll never get to vote for him!"

"Mad Men" Ep. 3.11: "The Gypsy and the Hobo"

2009-10-27T00:10:00.000-04:00

"I'm not saying a new name is easy to find ... But it's a label on a can. And it will be true, because it will promise the quality of the product inside."
-Don to Annabel, the dog food princess

"And who are you supposed to be?"
-Neighbor Carlton to Don, Halloween night

What's in a name? Everything and nothing, as Don Draper a/k/a Dick Whitman discovered in the terrible, wonderful moment his wife finally smashed through the crumbling but still formidable wall that separated his two lives. She's crossed over - the wall may be doomed - yet the person, the self, the life he presented to her, that they shared together, hasn't, as he feared, dissolved in a plume of smoke. Incredibly, to him, it's all still there the next day.

But it will never be the same again, as Don realizes when he wakes to see his box of secrets on his bedroom dresser, strangely innocuous-looking in the morning light. (Didn't you feel him wondering, just before that point, whether it had all been a dream?) So what now from here? Will Betty decide that the man she married was the same quality all along, irrespective of the name he assumed - the name that's now tainted by association with stolen identity, perhaps a criminal violation? Or will she have the same delayed reaction as those fatuous dog owners once they realized that their dogs were enjoying horsemeat?

Too early to tell as yet. But if there's anything this episode drove home once and for all, it's never to underestimate Betty Draper. She was smart enough to figure out the full implications of Don's box, and steely enough to nail his balls to the wall when he tried to wriggle out of telling her the truth. She also showed startling insight into Don's psyche with her comment about his wanting her to discover her secrets, and his not really understanding money. At the same time, she was compassionate enough to show what looked like genuine, if tentative sympathy towards him when she realized her question about Adam touched on his deepest wound. It's not for the first time, either, that Betty's been responsive to Don's showing his vulnerabilities (remember when Don told her about his father beating him as a child?); she may be no Suzanne Farrell (for which I'm rather thankful), but we've had plenty of hints that she does want Don to let her into his inner life. Of course, now that he finally has, the result may be a textbook case of being careful what you wish for. Still, the early signs suggest she isn't running away, at least not just yet.

But what about Don? Does he still think the Draper brand is what warranties his best qualities? Or is he going to try to incorporate his Dick-ish self (no pun intended) more fully into Don Draper's life? There were so many moments in the revelation scene - easily one of the best written, acted, and directed scenes in the history of MM - when I thought Don/Dick might bolt and hightail it for the car, where Suzanne was waiting. (Or, far scarier, that Suzanne might come knocking on the Drapers' front door.) That he didn't do this is telling, though of what, I'm not quite sure.

(I have to say that except for the delicious suspense and extra layer of tension her unseen presence lent the Betty-Don confrontation, I remain unimpressed by the Suzanne storyline, and really hope we've seen the last of it. Though I suspect it ain't quite over, yet. But I did feel for her, for just a moment, at the end of this episode.)

As if the Don-Betty developments weren't stupendous enough, we also got a plummy dose of Roger Sterling like we've never seen him before. A jilted young lover! A carefree Hemingway-wannabe! And, in the present, a faithful husband (to Jane) and loyal friend (to Joan)! It's a credit to John Slattery that in an episode dominated by Jon Hamm's phenomenal acting, he more than held his own. He sold every single new facet we glimpsed of a character I used to dismiss as hopelessly one-dimensional. It was pleasant to see Roger acting like a mature adult for once, even if I suspect his rejection of the dog food princess was due as much to residual resentment as to love for his silly wife. The juxtaposition of that very awkward meeting with his reconnection with Joan was interesting, though I hesitate to read it to mean Joan was Roger's "One."

As for Joanie, her thread was the slenderest of a particularly dense episode, but in many ways it was the most satisfying. Not that I'm condoning violence, even towards a putz like Dr. Butterfingers Rapist, but I confess I whooped when she clocked him with that vase. And kudos to all who predicted that Butterfingers would join the army. That can't possibly end well, but at least it should get him out of Joan's life for a while. Now let's hope Roger lands her a nice job that will keep her squarely in the MM universe.

Funniest line: "I can't turn it off, it's actually happening!"
-Peggy, re: dog food focus group

"Mad Men" Ep. 3.10: "The Color Blue"

2009-10-18T23:53:00.000-04:00

BETTY FOUND THE BOX!

But how much of the truth was she able to piece together?

Don, back away slowly from teacher lady. Also, teacher's brother ≠ do-over of Adam. Further involvement with the Farrells will only make your life even messier than it already is - though that might be a minor concern once Betty blows the lid off your secrets. If she does. She has to, doesn't she? Great closing shot of Betty gazing at Don during his acceptance speech. Hitchcock would have drooled.

Peggy was pure awesomeness this episode. I especially liked that she stuck up for that wanker Paul (sorry - couldn't resist), whether or not he deserved it.

Sterling Cooper is for sale again? Then what exactly was the narrative point of the British invasion? It didn't even get Lois fired.

I am, not for the first time, horribly behind on work I need to do for tomorrow, so that's it for now. I once again defer to Sepinwall, among others, for much more judicious thoughts on the episode's themes, esp. those to do with perception. It really seems like no one on this show is seeing the same color blue. But hasn't that been an ongoing pattern on MM for some time now?

"Where the Wild Things Are" - In Our Subconscious, Of Course

2009-10-18T23:36:00.000-04:00

WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE

directed by Spike Jonze
starring Max Records, Catherine Keener, voices of James Gandolfini, Lauren Ambrose, Chris Cooper, Catherine O'Hara, Forest Whitaker, Paul Dano
adapted from the children's book by Maurice Sendak

Spike Jonze’s “Where the Wild Things Are” is an ambling, shambling, unlikely wonder of a movie. By all conventional measures it shouldn’t work at all. It’s based on a slender picture book that has maybe ten lines of narrative. It’s formless, almost plotless, and at times so leisurely in pace it borders on soporific. It’s been slathered with the kind of facile pop-psychoanalytical coating that no doubt gives most psychologists fits. Yet for all that, I still fell in love with it at first sight. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if it ended up being my favorite film of the year.

I don’t remember when I first read Where the Wild Things Are, but I do remember the part of the book I loved the most. It’s the moment when the bedroom of the main character, Max, begins to transform into a forest. Though as a child I couldn’t articulate precisely why this image fascinated me so, I know now it was the liminality of the moment—the sense it evoked of being on the cusp, of having one foot in one world and one foot in another.

This scene doesn’t exist in the movie. And you know what? I didn’t care. Because the entire movie is about liminality; it’s about a boy just beginning to form a vague conception of adolescence and, beyond that, adulthood, but one that’s still colored by a child’s instincts and desires. It’s this theme, in fact, that gives the film much of its emotional power.

None of this, of course, is in Sendak’s original text. Jonze and co-writer Dave Eggers lay the groundwork for it by creating a bit of back story for Max. Their Max is a boy of about eight or ten who lives in a nameless wintry suburb with a single mother (Catherine Keener, looking harried but still luminous) and an older sister, Claire. As in the book, Max is a restless bundle of energy, but the movie also sends clear signals that he particularly craves the attention and affection of his family. We see him attempting unsuccessfully to engage his sister, who’s too occupied with her own teenage world to notice him anymore; when he tries to draw her friends into a snowball fight, they end up destroying his snow fort before decamping, taking an indifferent Claire with them and leaving behind a furious, tearful Max. Mom, while more responsive than Claire, is also distracted—first by her job (though there’s a beautifully tender moment in which she sets aside her work so that Max can tell her a story), later by a boyfriend (Mark Ruffalo in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-him appearance) who comes over for dinner. Max, in his grey wolf suit, tries to assert his dominance, but only succeeds in literally wounding his mother. In the one major departure from the book, he then runs out of the house before he can be punished, finds a boat on a bank, and sets sail, eventually arriving at the land of the wild things, whom he persuades to crown him king.

Some viewers may complain, not without justification, that this is where WTWTA loses momentum that it never really recovers. There’s not much shape or direction to the events on the island; in fact, there aren’t really “events” at all. Bursts of fitful activity are interspersed with long stretches of desultory walking and talking and occasionally surreal interludes, while the overall trajectory is a movement towards general disillusionment among the beasties with Max’s leadership, as he proves unable to keep their various discontents at bay. But this lack of structure doesn’t feel aimless so much as reflective of the soupy state of Max’s subconscious mind.

For it’s hard not to notice that the subjects and actions that occupy King Max echo the experiences and observations of Boy Max during the day. Max’s ill-fated igloo is reconfigured, multiplied, and magnified—first as a population of little homes that we first see one of the beasts, Carol (voiced by James Gandolfini), wantonly destroying, evoking both the destruction of the igloo and the revenge Max takes on his sister, then later as the mother of all forts, a wondrous conical thing that in the end can’t “keep the unhappiness out.” The snowball fight is transmuted into a dirt-clod fight, with even more destructive consequences, and Max, forced into the role of disciplinarian, bellows the identical words he last heard directed at him. Even the fanciful story Max told his mother reappears, as does his subliminal fear—roused by a chance remark by his school science teacher, early in the film—that the sun will die out some day.

The beasts, meanwhile, quickly take on aspects of Max’s psyche. Carol, with his violent storms of rage, jealousy, and grief, most obviously represents Max’s uncontrolled id, but also channels his wistful, creative side; while the smallest beast, the goatlike Alexander (Paul Dano) is the one who sulks because no one will listen to him. Some of the beasts seem to stand in for the people in Max’s life that he’s lost or fears losing: a disaffected girl-beast, KW (Lauren Ambrose), who always seems to be leaving the others to seek the company of a pair of squawking owls, is pretty clearly a projection of Max’s feelings about his sister; and depending on your best guess as to why Max’s parents split up (the movie gives barely any clues on this), either Carol or the quieter bird-beast, Douglas (Chris Cooper) could also be a stand-in for Max’s dad, and KW, who takes care of Max, could just as easily represent his mother as his sister.

But it’s best not to try to draw too literal a correlation between the beasts of Max's imagination and people or elements in his "real" life. The relationship between those two planes of his consciousness is far more fluid and diffuse, as it is in dreams. Indeed, there’s something altogether dreamlike about Max’s entire sojourn among the wild things, which is shot in a soft, almost hazy focus that gives the forest glades, desert expanses, and quiet beaches an otherworldly glow. Even the beasts look softer and fuzzier than Sendak’s illustrations; at the same time they feel remarkably tangible, probably because Jonze used real, live actors in giant beast suits, though the faces were filled in—to marvelously expressive effect—with computer animation. The overall effect is at once appropriately fantastical and wonderfully organic, in a way I haven’t seen in any other animated or partly-animated films.

And that, ultimately, may be why the movie struck such a chord with me: it feels like the product of a real kid’s imagination. (It helps that the boy who plays Max, though cute, has the demeanor and body language of a normal kid, and none of the studied self-consciousness of a trained child actor.) I’ve seen some complaints that WTWTA is a movie for hipsters, not kids, but other than the Jonze name (and I haven’t been much of a fan of his previous work) and the indie-ish soundtrack by Carter Burwell and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ Karen O, I don’t see it. There’s nothing precious or snarky or knowing about this film. Quite the contrary, there’s a purity of spirit that shines through and reminds even the oldest and most jaded viewer of a time when growing up was a kind of betrayal and the destruction of a snow fort the end of the world.

GRADE: A-