"The Other's a Fish": THE LINCOLN LAWYER

This faithful adaptation of Michael Connelly's best-selling legal thriller, THE LINCOLN LAWYER, is a throwback to breezier, slightly funkier courtroom procedurals.  A smart performance by Matthew McConaughey that imbues the character of Mickey Haller with a knowing swagger anchors this approach, and the film's loose sensibilities serve as a counterpoint to the efficient clockwork plot.  The latter quality of the film may in fact be its lone weakness, as it has trimmed much of the juicy fat away from the story, leaving bits and pieces hanging here and there, and not quite giving us enough character information in a few instances.  Still, THE LINCOLN LAWYER is a wonderful film that kept me enthralled even though I was familiar with the many twists and turns beforehand.

The film follows Mickey Haller, a criminal defense attorney who will defend anyone who can pay his price.  As the film opens, he stalls a case from going to court because a client of his, a member of a bike gang, hasn't paid the bill to date.  In the following scene we meet the rest of the bikers, who have brought payment to Haller, and are given a sense that he is a man unafraid to take risks, but who has an ethical code even though he's willing to take a razor to the prosecution and bleed even the most guilty clients' charges down to an empty shell.  A bit later, when Haller meets with repeat-client Gloria, a hooker who he never charges for his services.  The relationship is a bit murky in the film, but in the book, it's really a sweet motive on his part, because he sees the good in Gloria, and wants her to get straight and stay that way.  In any case, it serves to show his golden ideals held deep within the hard exterior of a money-driven defense lawyer.

As mentioned earlier, McConaughey's turn as  Haller is a major reason this film works as well as it does.  Haller has just enough sleazy wit and smart-ass charm to keep the audience alert to the plot, but the trick of casting someone as instantly likable and recognizable as McConaughey also serves to make us root for him and know that, no matter what twists get thrown at him, Haller is a good guy who will do the right thing in the end.  Haller doesn't care what others think of him, and when cops come at him with jabs about his job and his culpability in keeping scum on the streets (Bryan Cranston is fun in a bit part), he brings it right back to them, knocking on crooked cops and how easy it is to do his job when the D.A. and the police are so inept at prosecution.  Haller is a fun character, one that is challenging and emotional and downright engaging.  He's a real, honest human being, and for once he's on screen in front of us.

McConaughey isn't alone, though, and is supported by a strong supporting cast, including Marisa Tomei as his ex-wife and prosecutor Maggie, William H. Macy as his private investigator, and Ryan Phillipe as Louis Roulet, the client he's been hired to get off an attempted murder charge.  Phillipe's character in particular is worthy of notice because of his many faces, all of which are played expertly.  Phillipe isn't an actor we've seen much of lately, and that's a shame, because I've always enjoyed his work.  I'm sure audiences will be intrigued to see him here first as the story's underdog, and then as its villain.  Josh Lucas is also enjoyable as prosecutor Ted Minton, and the courtroom scenes hinge a lot on his reactions to Haller's defense tactics.  It's a shame there's not more of the court proceedings in the film, though, because Minton has some fantastic scenes in the book that would have likely been explosive between the two actors on screen.

While defending Roulet, Haller stumbles upon information that leads him to believe Roulet is not only guilty of the crime he is now accused, but also of the murder of another woman that got pinned on a previous client of Haller's, and who pleaded guilty to avoid the death penalty.  Of course, not giving too much away, the attorney-client privilege is given a lot of play in how everything turns out, and it's really quite intriguing and plausible.  Let's just say there aren't any surprises, no matter how dark the film gets, as to how everything ends.

Cinematographer Lukas Ettlin, who also provided us with the most memorable and pleasing part of recent plotless disaster BATTLE: LOS ANGELES, turns in some really fantastic late-Sixties exploitation style "slick" cinematography, balancing just enough edge and flatness that really feels like that period, but in a completely good way.  There are plenty of gorgeous close-ups of the stars, as well as some stark, matter-of-fact exposures we're not used to seeing in a Hollywood film, including an emotional drink with Haller after a close friend's murder which really doesn't make McConaughey seem like the pretty boy we all think of when his name gets mentioned.

I think what will stick with me the most, though, is McConaughey.  Finally the man has returned to actual acting.  I'm content with him popping up in small but memorable roles while cashing major paychecks for rom-coms, but it's nice to see him headlining something that requires him to actually show up to work.  Maybe we're entering a new period for him, one that will see him really come into his own. Or, maybe we'll just get hints of true brilliance here and there.  Honestly, I get the feeling that, much like Mickey Haller, he doesn't care all that much come to think of it.

Girl Power: MADE IN DAGENHAM

A feel-good movie if there ever was one, Nigel Cole's MADE IN DAGENHAM tells the story of the 1968 strike by the women workers of Ford's plant in Dagenham that ultimately resulted in the passage of equal pay legislation in Britain.  While it's a little too frothy, and the return to our current cultural climate outside the darkened theatre is something of a downer afterward, it's a solid film to spend a couple of hours with, and features the always fantastic Sally Hawkins as Rita O'Grady, a composite of several real-life women who lead the movement.

Like most films based on political movements/activists like this, there's a certain trajectory that's expected to play out on screen: person has injustice, person takes action against their adversary, person overcomes injustice.  And to be sure, MADE IN DAGENHAM follows this precisely, never really wavering from its path, though it has some nice surprises here and there, mostly in the ways it deals with the interpersonal and familial relationships at stake.  Rita and her husband Eddie have a pretty healthy relationship, and while there are trying moments that would likely hit any family going through an income crisis as they have (especially once the strike by the women causes a plant-wide shutdown), it really comes through that they love and care about one another, and there are plenty of apologies to go around.

As the film tracks the encounters with management and their spineless self-serving union leaders, and the disappointments experienced by the women at their hands, the film moves along at a fairly quick pace, finding its footing in the swift dialogue and the pleasure of watching such skilled actors at work.  It doesn't really matter that the story itself is predictable - they'll never really make the kind of movie that ends with the decimation of unions' bargaining rights - because the film's charms are its quiet moments and often boisterous interactions.  And the actors are more than capable of buoying a film like this.

Sally Hawkins, who I've already mentioned, and who most audiences may know from her lead role in Mike Leigh's HAPPY-GO-LUCKY, is once again a charming on-screen presence and proves that she really should be in many many more movies (a quick check of her IMDB tells me she'll be in at least two films in the coming year, which I'll happily check out just because.)  She's helped along by some strong supporting work from the two prominent male cast members: Daniel Mays as her husband, and the incomparable Bob Hoskins as a low-level union rep that actually has the balls to get the job done as it needs to be, bypassing politics and getting right to the heart of the problem.  But the film's biggest jaw-dropper is the sheer amount of female acting chops on display, with all of its major moments revolving around women and the stifling feelings they have when they are spoken down to and about by males running everything without ever being asked what they might actually feel best suits their interests.

Underneath its light surface is a darker commentary about the ways in which male-centric societal discriminations shade even our own thoughts about who is important and should be important in not just everyday interactions, but even in the simple act of watching a film - even one such as this that really puts the voices of women right out in front.  Hoskins and Mays aside, the major characters that drive the film are all the friends of Rita who stand behind her and support her giving voice to their concerns as women.  Miranda Richardson is a hoot as Barbara Castle, who is still the only woman ever to have held the office of First Secretary of State in Britain, and Rosamund Pike turns in a really tight performance as Lisa Hopkins, a highly educated woman kept underneath the power structure in both Britain and her own household by her husband, who is the labor relations director for the Ford company in the U.K.

The real heart and soul for, and the most conflict when sticking up for her sisters for Rita, comes from her best friend, Connie, played by the wonderful Geraldine James.  Connie's husband, George, is a former soldier who is experiencing what we now know is PTSD, and some days are obviously better than others.  Their relationship as husband and wife, which may be a shadow of its former self, is powered by pure love, and ultimately, George sees his wife as someone who deserves everything she has been fighting for.  The denouement of this particular section is very sad and poignant, but it provides the story with just enough oomph and impetus to get over the hump of making sure Rita's friendships really do see her through to the end.  Really, it's a touching moment when Connie, who was once the spokeswoman for the girls, and Rita both enter the labor union's conference together.

It's not really a surprise to see such good acting in a British film.  Half of their acclaimed talent currently fills U.S. productions anyway.  But it is a surprise to see a film that really attempts to get to the heart of its female characters, and provide a realistic view of their relationships with one another and their families, and with society-at-large.  MADE IN DAGENHAM may be a rather light-hearted affair, but there's enough going on beneath the surface concerning sexism and its inherent role in every facet of Western culture that it really is worth a second look beyond the cursory first glance.  Even if it is just for the sheer amount of wonderful performances, which given such great work in smaller roles by the likes of Andrea Riseborough and Jaime Winstone, et al, I really haven't even tipped the bucket on.

Blurbs: Special Edition 2

I know, I know, where did I disappear to?  I'm back, this time with a vengeance.  I'm going to have some 2010 wrap-ups and polish off a few articles I didn't get around to posting.  First up, a super-long edition of Blurbs (really long this time out).  Without further ado:

THE KING'S SPEECH (Tom Hooper, 2010)
A movie that really hinges on the performances of Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush and completely delivers on both counts.  The story's plot is nothing spectacular: the King of England has a stammer and seeks speech therapy so he can lead the nation in proper royal capacity, but the screenplay has some of the best dialogue in recent memory (along with THE SOCIAL NETWORK it holds a place with me for making an uninteresting subject interesting just because of the ways in which people communicate and find importance in communication) and Tom Hooper's direction is refreshingly restrained and classical in style.  I enjoyed the off-center shots of the two leads, and it's nice to see something that's not quite so flashy.  Even the fog-shrouded exteriors seem subdued and refreshing in their simplicity.  One of the smaller cinematic pleasures I had this year is watching the bickering back and forth between Rush and Firth, two fine actors in a fine film that may not be the best, but which is still deserving of one's time.

BAD DAY AT BLACK ROCK (John Sturges, 1955)
One of my favorite films of all time, I recently watched this after having not seen it in about six years and was re-enamored with it.  Spencer Tracy's portrayal of hard-as-nails Macreedy, the one-armed veteran come to Black Rock with a mysterious purpose.  Met with a town hiding a dark secret and the determination to do whatever to make sure it never comes to light, Macreedy faces this opposition head on.  In an iconic performance, Tracy takes on the whole town, populated by a superb cast playing the townspeople: Ernest Borgnine, Robert Ryan and the inimitable Lee Marvin.  A social tirade against racism and igorance, A BAD DAY AT BLACK ROCK manages to hit all of its intended notes and rattle some nerves in a meager 81 minute run-time, which is more than most other films could ever dream of.

SEASON OF THE WITCH (Dominic Sena, 2011)
While not a total waste of time, the film's improbable (and horribly computer-generated) final twenty minutes almost dismantle the enjoyment I had of watching a mostly-reliable B genre picture starring Nicolas Cage and Ron Perlman as two Knights on the lam escorting a witch to her trial at an abbey several days away.  Honestly, I think this film falls apart based on the direction alone, making choice after choice, from the overall tone, which waffles between camp and seriousness, to the aforementioned CGI-laden debacle of the finale.  Dominic Sena has made exactly one film worth a real look (KALIFORNIA) and as bad as I wanted it to, SEASON OF THE WITCH does nothing to further a sub-genre of horror/fantasy I feel is due for a comeback.  I guess TRUE BLOOD's upcoming witch-filled storyline will have to keep my hopes up for the time being.

THE CHICAGO CODE (2011)
Producer/Creator/Writer Shawn Ryan has already seen one of his best creations cancelled by FX (the best show of last Fall, TERRIERS), but he's giving it another go with the so-far-so-good cop show THE CHICAGO CODE.  Following a group of officers and detectives banding together to take down a corrupt politician, there are shades of THE WIRE at play, though things are starting to widen a bit, growing to show a more subjective view of various characters through voice-over narration and small throwaway moments that might be trimmed from a show not on a network production scale (though this season will feature only 14, there are normally 22 episodes a season as opposed to half that number).  Aside from surface level comparisons, though, the feel of the show is much more in tune with Ryan's work on TERRIERS and THE SHIELD, albeit a little less gritty and featuring a police department actually fighting for justice, which is a welcome change to the current television procedural climate.  Fantastic performances from Jennifer Beals as the department's superintendent and Jason Clarke as a detective determined to make the case buoy the show and really propel it into the must-watch realm few shows reach for me.

THE GOLDEN COMPASS (Chris Weitz, 2007)
I didn't mind this film, though I could tell as someone who hasn't read any of Philip Pullman's trilogy that it glosses over a WHOLE lot of stuff.  But, I think as a non-fan audience member it worked for what it was: an epic start to a trilogy that there's no way to condense into a single set of three films in the first place.  That, in a nutshell, is the problem of adaptation in general for the fantasy genre.  The very nature of the beast requires a fair amount of condensing from an often bloated, world-creating novel that spares not a single chance to describe small and seemingly inconsequential scenes in oft-excruciating detail.  Fans of the books do hate this movie, and probably with justified reasoning.  But, it is what it is, and if you want to see how bad film adaptations of really good and highly revered works of children's lit can turn out, you might want to try THE SEEKER: THE DARK IS RISING from the same year.  Yeesh.

DOGHOUSE (Jake West, 2009)
I have a soft spot for any sort of British horror-comedy.  This offering, following a group of men who attempt to cheer up their friend following a devastating break-up with his girlfriend by taking a holiday to a small town that boasts a ton of single women per capita, is a lighter affair that features some imaginative takes on zombification and some fun kills.  The should-be-more-popular fan favorite Danny Dyer and Stephen Graham headline as two of the guys up against a town in which all of the women have become the subjects of a secret military experiment that makes them aggressively pursue and kill all men in the area.  This one's fun for fans, and may even win a few converts.  Worth checking out.

AN IDIOT ABROAD (2010)
Oh my word, this is brilliant television.  I've loved listening to Karl Pilkington on the Ricky Gervais Show podcast for the past few years, but I never imagined something like this would ever happen.  For those of you not familiar with him, his friend Ricky Gervais describes Karl as a "round-headed, ape-like moron," and while that may seem mean-spirited, it's not completely wrong as a description of the television personality we're given.  He's actually just an average man, uncomfortable around anything he's never been exposed to or has no previous notion of, and this leads to absolutely hilarious observations, non-sequitirs, odd-ball analogies and brilliant unscripted physical comedy.  This may be the best thing I've seen on TV since November, and it's definitely the best reality-based show to come along in a long, long time.

TRUE GRIT (The Coen Bros., 2010)
There's a lot to admire in this re-adaptation of Charles Portis' classic Western, but far and away the best aspect is the discovery of Hailee Steinfeld, the fifteen year-old actress who more than holds her own with some of the best actors ever to appear on celluloid.  As Mattie Ross, the plucky and determined daughter out to track down her father's murderer, Tom Chaney, she displays the same wisdom of an older soul her character has as well, and she really is amazingly talented.  And while it doesn't pack the same punch as their recent few films for me, this is another home run for the Coens, and again marks their place as one of the best filmmaking duos working today.

BLUE VELVET (David Lynch, 1986)
Upon multiple viewings, BLUE VELVET only becomes increasingly more disturbing and creepy.  Eventually I stopped paying attention to the thin plotting (and the intricate workings of the dream-like logic employed in the film) and began focusing on the nightmarish nature of every single thing in this film, from opening credits to the very end.  Seriously, even Laura Dern's character gives me the willies.  Another recent discovery: Dean Stockwell as Ben is an even more disturbing person than Frank Booth.  In just that one scene in which he lip-synchs Roy Orbison's "In Dreams" he walks away with the movie, and the whole vibe of the apartment, the retro-decor and fashions, the casual nature of the abusive relationships...it's almost too much to take.  I watched this a couple of times around my obsession with Aronofsky's BLACK SWAN and it was an illuminating experience for me.  The nature of dreams, nightmares, and mental breakdown swirling around us at all times, and the simple act of watching a movie in effect being similar - well, let's say I may still be a little too close to it all.  In any case, this is Lynch's masterpiece, and deserves to be thought about constantly by anyone who can stand to.

EPISODES (2011)
An amazing show about the problems facing adaptations of award-winning British comedies for American audiences.  Featuring a really hilarious Matt LeBlanc, and some razor-sharp writing, the story of Sean and Beverly, the creators of BAFTA-winning show "Lyman's Boys" watch in horror as their show is picked up for a pilot by network executive Merc and becomes the opposite of what made their show a critical favorite overseas.  After replacing the show's star with Matt LeBlanc, the show's entire story changes, becoming a sitcom about a hockey coach and being retitled "Pucks!"  It may hit a little too close to home for those of us who have seen this exact thing happen in reality, but it's still a fantastic show that pays off by building upon its previously introduced jokes and satisfying us with an appropriately awkward and bittersweet finale.

Review: BLACK SWAN

Director Darren Aronofsky (REQUIEM FOR A DREAM, THE WRESTLER) is not a subtle filmmaker.  His films often feel like they're pounding, pounding, pounding their audience into submission, with deliciously all-too-human horror that confronts the viewer in such a way that forces them to either love the film or hate it.  There's really no in-between for an Aronofsky film.  His body of work could probably best be described as typically divisive.  His latest effort, the psychodrama BLACK SWAN, is no different.  The thriller, starring Natalie Portman as Nina Sayers, a ballerina up for the role of the Swan Queen in SWAN LAKE, a production under the control of hard-line artistic director Thomas (a brilliant Vincent Cassel), starts by recalling countless earlier ballet-centric films, notably THE RED SHOES - a film which can't help but be invoked by the mere mention of a powerful ballet director and a struggling dancer - and ends with notes of body horror, psychological melt-down and the destructive impulse that drives its obsessed central character toward perfection and destruction.

Nina strives for perfection as a dancer, and is selected for the role because the White Swan should be a technically perfected part, but Thomas still has his doubts about her turn as the Black Swan, who he envisions as a bit more loose and wild than Nina ever allows herself to be.  Enter the rivalry of another dancer, Lily (Mila Kunis), much more sensual than Nina's perfected technique would ever allow.  Nina may lose her part, Lily and Thomas may be conspiring against her, and she may or may not be transforming, quite literally, into some horrific thing.  Aronofsky has utilized the thematics of the ballet SWAN LAKE to create a real-world mirroring of its central conceit: two sides of the same coin, dooming one another, and only because they are one and the same, and it works perfectly as a horror film.

Something tells me, though, that this may end up becoming a major issue, as horror can most certainly be used as a derogatory term when it comes to the world of ballet.  It's a largely insular culture, with its aficionados holding strong aesthetic opinions of good and bad that comes with the territory (all artistic and critical communities are the same in this regard), and I don't think they'll be too pleased with the actual presentation of ballet in the film (indeed, James Wolcott's review makes this point for me).  It's a backdrop, and not the show, and even Natalie Portman's year of training for the role doesn't really make much sense considering Aronofsky's film (and the horror/thriller genre in general) is more concerned with intimacy and brooding intensity - a point the film's many close-ups of Portman's gaunt face and leaner, more bruised and calloused frame hammers home more efficiently than any medium shot of the dancing going on around them ever could.  In reality, the close-ups of her body never had to be the real Portman, but, just as it did with Mickey Rourke's scarred torso in THE WRESTLER, the fact that it is only serves to add to the visceral impact the shots have in conveying the physical impracticalities of such a demanding lifestyle on a biological level, let alone the strain it can have on the psyche.

Given the obsession the film has with Nina's strictly-governed and routine-driven existence becoming unraveled by her awakening to her own desires and her growing sensual self-awareness, there is naturally a strong sexual element to the relationships Nina forms with both Thomas and Lily, with each offering some new and thrilling experience that could end up dooming her chances at being a successful dancer.  This sexual awakening is accompanied with both horror and pitch black comedy.  Thomas, perhaps unprofessionally, but with a point nonetheless, in an attempt to drive the point home to Nina, who just can't stop being perfect, asks a male dancer point-blank, "would you fuck this girl?"  In another scene Nina wakes up and starts to masturbate, and just as she reaches arousal, with her back arched and her stomach down, she looks over and sees her mother sleeping in a chair next to her bed.  These scenes serve to shock us and make us laugh uncomfortably.  They are uncomfortable scenes in a film filled with discomforting thoughts and uncomfortable relationships that shed light on the whole absurdity of the assumptions various characters make about one another, specifically concerning sexual desires and inclinations.  Even the assumptions made about Lily are horrifying to hear coming out of Nina's mouth - especially when we find out the truth behind the night in question.  They may as well all be losing their minds.

In many ways, BLACK SWAN is a culmination of Aronofsky's body of work to date, one in which his primary concerns of psychological and physical trauma are perfectly married into a perfect vehicle.  THE WRESTLER with more darkness, or REQUIEM FOR A DREAM with more sympathetic identification.  And, like his much-criticized but underrated work THE FOUNTAIN, he is again here obsessed with doubles, and features many a fantastic shot by frequent collaborator Matthew Libatique that features multiple mirror images of Nina.  The motif is blunt, much like the parallels between the story of the ballet SWAN LAKE and the film, but it hits and it sticks, and it has stayed with me since I first saw the credits roll all the way back in September.  This is Aronofsky's masterpiece.

I feel like I haven't successfully conveyed anything about the supporting actors or their roles, but I also don't feel that it's necessarily important that I do.  As fantastic as Barbara Hershey is as the domineering ex-ballerina mother (an important stock character in ballet films), or as much fun as Winona Ryder is as the aging ex-lead ballerina whom Nina is replacing, the film is really only concerned with Nina.  Even Lily and Thomas are extensions of the almost entirely subjective view we are provided by Aronofsky as a window into this story.  We feel for Nina because she is a classical tragic figure, marching toward an end as inevitable as any the rest of us can expect, albeit one with a much better soundtrack.

Blurbs: Special Edition

I've been gone a long time, I know.  But here I am, and I'm back.  Sorry for the all-too-long hiatus.  In any case, I figured I'd start back with something light, quick, and hopefully interesting, a new entry in my "Blurbs" series, where I give brief thoughts, reviews, etc, on a lot of things I've seen recently, but don't have time to devote to full-lenght pieces (though I may come back to some of them in the future).  Without further ado, here's a new, extra-long installment of Blurbs:

13 ASSASSINS (Takashi Miike, 2010)
I caught this one in Toronto, and I've been thinking a lot about it since then.  It's definitely as bombastic and over-the-top as any other Miike film, but in a more traditional mode of filmmaking.  Stylistically, it plays exactly like a classic samurai picture, mirroring in many aspects the films SEVEN SAMURAI and SANJURO, as well as any other post-60s film that features an individual or group of samurai nobly defending peasants against the evil advances of a violent and immoral enemy.  Still, there are touches of trademark Miike the provocateur in the film, including a sequence which sees the samurai defending the town by having a herd of bulls charge at the invaders with dynamite strapped on their backs.  And, yes, he still finds some way to include a naked torso-woman in the proceedings.  Things aren't nearly as strange as all that, though, and Miike has made what is probably his most mature film to date, a real, first-rate classic that finally marks his arrival above the cult following he has held for the past decade.  13 ASSASSINS is memorable, fun, thrilling and inspiring filmmaking of the very first order.

THE ILLUSIONIST (Sylvain Chomet, 2010)
Another Toronto selection, this is the follow-up to Chomet's feature debut THE TRIPLETS OF BELLEVILLE.  Based on an unproduced script by legendary filmmaker Jaques Tati, THE ILLUSIONIST follows a magician growing slowly irrelevant by a world less-inclined to believe in magic, and becoming more and more enamored with rock-n-roll, which slowly takes over as the main draw to many of the venues he has been playing for years.  Like TRIPLETS, THE ILLUSIONIST is a film of quiet charms, with minimal dialogue (and much of that is muffled and incomprehensible) that focuses all of its attention on the visual imagery and the dazzling art of the film.  There's a moment near the end of the film when the protagonist stumbles into a dark movie theater while chasing his clothing on a runaway rack, and for a brief moment, he shares the screen with Tati's projected image within the theater (a real film clip, not animated).  This single sublime demonstrates what is really the most important thing about Chomet's film: it's ability to touch its audience is admirable in an age when most directors, animators included, would rather shock thrill or titillate.  Truly this is one-of-a-kind filmmaking.

DUE DATE (Todd Phillips, 2010)
This film had a huge build-up because of Phillips' previous success with THE HANGOVER (which, at the time of my writing this, is the most-viewed on-demand movie ever).  Audiences were particularly excited in seeing that film's break-out star, Zack Galifianakis re-team with the director, though it seems the film they got wasn't as amazing as they were hoping (see also: reactions to Judd Apatow's FUNNY PEOPLE).  So goes the saying about expectations, etc., etc.  I, on the other hand, was pleasantly surprised that Phillips had made a different type of road movie from THE HANGOVER, particularly since he was already lining up to shoot a sequel to that one anyway.  Robert Downey, Jr., plays the straight-man to Galifianakis' annoying idiot.  Neither character is particularly likable, though when pressed I'd have to say Galifianakis gets my vote for the one I'd be more likely to kill  myself.  In what is essentially a remake of John Hughes' PLANES, TRAINS AND AUTOMOBILES, we watch as the ever-bitter Downey begins to take a liking to the schlub who keeps getting him in these awful situations to begin with, and it does feature some winning performances.  Downey is incredibly mean-spirited here, much more so than Steve Martin's character in PLANES, and that's saying a lot.  If there's one thing that keeps this film from being completely successful, it's that the character dynamics are so in-tune with previous ideas of how these personalities should clash (thanks to other, better films), that we just can't identify with either character, let alone both.

"G" MEN (William Keighley, 1935)
I'm an unabashed fan of pretty much everything that James Cagney ever did.  He's one of my favorite Classical Hollywood actors, and he's never as much fun as when he's playing a bad guy with a heart of gold.  I'd never seen "G" MEN, Warner's post-Code gangster picture, though I'd been meaning to for years.  Finally, I caught it on DVD about a month ago.  It's really quite fantastic.  In an effort to make a gangster picture, with one of their top stars, Warner Brothers decided they would cast Cagney in a trademark role, but with a twist so as to not upset the censors: Cagney would be a reformed gangster who helps bring down his former associates when he joins the newly-formed FBI.  A lot of the Warner contract actors are here, including Robert Armstrong and Margaret Lindsay, who played tough-as-nails and strictly by-the book Jeff McCord and his sister Kay, respectively.  Keighley's direction is superb (he also directed one of the best adaptations of Robin Hood with star Errol Flynn, and collaborated with Cagney again on the prison drama EACH DAWN I DIE), as is the crisp cinematography of the legendary Sol Polito (THE ADVENTURES OF ROBIN HOOD, ARSENIC AND OLD LACE, ANGELS WITH DIRTY FACES, 42ND STREET).  I loved this one.  Definitely check it out if you can.

THE WICKER MAN (Neil LaBute, 2006)
I honestly think this is one of the most misunderstood films of the past ten years.  While not terribly good, it's nowhere near awful, and is compelling not only for Nicolas Cage's leap off the deep end performance, but also because it's one of the weirdest films I've ever seen, from beginning to end.  Loosely taking its cues from the original British film and the novel it was based on, LaBute crafts what is essentially a broad genre farce, though played completely straight.  I think this is also the problem a lot of people ran into with LAKEVIEW TERRACE: we're not entirely sure what his game is.  It's such a departure from traditional filmmaking in its tone and execution that it seems like he's often just fucking with us.  Indeed, I think with THE WICKER MAN, he was just fucking with us.  Cage plays a detective from California summoned to a tiny island off the coast of Washington to search for a missing little girl, and uncovers a lot of weirdness when confronted by the modern-day, femme-centric bee-farming pagans that leads to a lot of questions about LaBute's long-accused misogyny (though I think this is mostly him joking about his perceived disgust with females).  In any case, by the end of the film, in which Cage dons a bear suit and goes around punching women in the face and kicking Leelee Sobieski into a wall, the only reading that makes sense any more is that this is a personal satire, as well as an affront to his critics.  He finally gave us "the essential Neil LaBute anti-feminist screed", and we hung him out to dry for it.  Kind of brilliant, actually, and it essentially freed him up to make whatever he wanted from there on out, even if the films weren't that great in the end.

MACGRUBER (Jorma Taccone, 2010)
A pretty smooth film for such an absurdist and sporadic comedy.  Based on the SNL sketch that mocks MACGUYVER about two decades too late, Will Forte leads the charge as the title character, a moronic special-forces type that is utterly clueless about his actual job, but nonetheless succeeds in the end.  The jokes range from the inspired to the merely silly, but there is hardly a minute that passes that doesn't contain at least one gag that had me chuckling.  It's odd that this one got such bad word of mouth (I know I didn't go see it theatrically because of it), because it's actually the funniest film SNL's been involved with since WAYNE'S WORLD 2 all the way back in 1992.  Oh well, now I know, and I'm glad I've seen it.  Immature, yes.  Funny, also yes.  Great cinematic art, well, no.

BABY FACE (Alfred E. Greene, 1933)
The inimitable Barbara Stanwyck stars in this pre-Code picture about an attractive woman who uses her feminine wiles to work her way all the way to the top.  After, quite literally, starting in the basement of a building as a bartender, she begins working at a bank, and goes floor-by-floor to the top, using her looks and sexuality all of the way, though she ultimately realizes this power and financial security will never bring her happiness.  This portrait of unabashed willpower wrapped up in sex and evocation still holds on to its power today, mostly due to Stanwyck's powerful performance as a woman who gains everything only to realize she is still vulnerable.  Thrilling, miraculous stuff.

Review: BURIED

Spending 90 minutes watching nothing but Ryan Reynolds alone onscreen may not sound like your idea of a good time, but let me assure you, his new film, BURIED, which I saw while in Toronto, is an excellent high-concept suspense film that will keep you on the edge of your seat for its entirety.  Director Rodrigo Cortez has crafted a one-man show that is smart, inventive, visually stunning and which, given his very literal constraints, allows the main actor room to turn in an impressive and completely unexpected performance.

Reynolds plays Paul Conroy, a truck driving contractor in Iraq who wakes up in total darkness, buried alive, with no idea how he is supposed to get out.  When he comes to, the film begins, and for the first few minutes, we are all alone in the dark with only heavy breathing and panic setting in.  Then, there's the sound of a Zippo, and a flicker of light.  Flashes of the coffin and the person in it slowly come into focus for us once the lighter remains lit for a longer stretch of time.  There is nothing but Paul, the coffin, the lighter, and a cell phone he discovers laying next to his body.

From this predicament, Paul tries every conceivable trick: calling his employers, calling his wife, calling the FBI, and each time he is met with further frustration.  And then people actually start answering their phones and they are even less help than no answer would have been.  The film plays with these moments a lot, with the bureaucracy of the situation showing through in a lot of them.  How does an HR office worker react to a call about someone who works for them buried in a coffin?  How about the hostage "negotiator" who is barred from contacting or negotiating with the "terrorists" who have captured the victim?  These questions are mired in layer after layer of sweat and dirt as Paul maneuvers through them all.

Rodrigo Cortez's direction (he was also editor) is superb.  During the Q&A in Toronto, he revealed that they actually built seven coffins to shoot in and around so they could get all of the angles - not entirely unlike the boxing rings built by Scorsese for RAGING BULL in order to provide different psychological mindsets - and it works to great effect.  There's a particularly memorable shot looking down on Paul as the camera just lifts up and up and up, with the sides of the coffin rising for what seems like forever, which puts us right in the moment of helplessness and hopelessness that he's feeling right at that second, buried god-knows-how-far beneath the earth on top of him.

One last thing I loved about the movie: the lighting was all natural.  No lighting rigs were used to illuminate the scene, only a lighter, cell phone or whatever else was being used in the scene at the time (Cortez did note that, sometimes, when the lighter was off-screen, they had three of them lit so they could generate enough light to make the shot effective.  Still, the flickering is real, the darkness is real, and Ryan Reynolds effectively keeps us in suspense for the full run-time of the movie.  BURIED is a high-concept one-man show that is entertaining and worthwhile.

Review: LET ME IN

It's always a shaky proposition remaking a film that was considered by many to be an instant classic upon its release, but that's exactly the task director Matt Reeves (CLOVERFIELD) decided to undertake with his latest film, LET ME IN, which isn't so much a remake of the Swedish film as a re-adaptation of John Ajvide Lindqvist's novel (and his subsequent screenplay adaptation) LET THE RIGHT ONE IN.  Reeves' new film stands wholly on its own, though as a consequence of its being adapted so closely from the same source material there are many similarities in dialogue, certain sequences, and even mood.  This isn't to diminish the American film in any way in regard to the original, and I'm simply making mention of the inevitable comparisons many will make (over and over again) between the two films.  I don't really think that's fair to Reeves, or to his actors, or to anyone involved in LET ME IN, which is on its own a superbly crafted film that, though it may tell a tale some may be familiar with, will nonetheless be many viewers' first exposure to all the film(s) and novel have to offer.

The film tells the story of Owen, a bullied kid who lives at home with his mother, who recently separated from his father.  They live in an apartment complex in New Mexico, and he spends a lot of time on his own, either in his room, or on the playground in the courtyard, sitting in the snow imagining his revenge on his tormentor at school, who derisively calls him "little girl."  He spies a girl moving into the complex one night from his window, and things move from there, with them gradually growing closer despite Abby's insistence that they "can't be friends."  Owen undoubtedly finds Abby a bit odd - she smells funny, never wears any shoes, and solves his Rubick's Cube in a day - but he seems to be inexplicably drawn to her as well.  Later in the film, we learn a lot more about Abby, and a little more about Owen as well, especially in his relationship to what Abby is and his need to be protected.

What struck me most as I watched the film almost three weeks ago in Toronto was the overall tonal shift Reeves made in transporting the film's setting from Sweden to New Mexico.  The cinematography is certainly more stylized, with a much darker lighting set-up than I expected, and that leads to the film feeling much more sinister in its implications.  Toward the end of the film, the relationship between Abby and Owen is much heavier than the one shared in the original by Oskar and Eli.  This has to a lot to do with some added nastiness about the actual nature of killing people and drinking their blood than we've seen before.  In a particularly memorable change in sequence, Abby's reveal to Owen features a full-on attack scene that poses questions about what exactly constitutes a monster, and the morals faced when you learn someone you are close with may be something entirely different than what you imagined.

But the surprises don't end with the simple additions of gorier scenes and different kills, although one such sequence does have a rather fantastic camera maneuver in it as we are stuck in a car that is crashing over a snow-filled bank off the road.  The film also offers some fantastic performances by its young cast members, who are full-fledged actors, and not mere "child actors."  Chloe Moretz once again proves she is every bit as amazing as she has been hyped to be, and Kodi Smit-McPhee is no slouch either.  As Abby and Owen, they are every bit the onscreen pair as Kare Hedebrant and Lina Leandersson were in Tomas Alfredson's film.  There is certainly something sweet and endearing going on that is conveyed even through the very thick, sad atmosphere brought to the film by their adult counterparts.  They are the perfect balance between knowing adulthood and ignorant youth, and perfectly show us a couple of children who are, literally and figuratively, old before their time.  I haven't even gone into the performances by Richard Curtis and Elias Koteas at all, and they were fantastic as usual.

The film drew me in with its similarities and by the end it left me in the same sense of wonder and suspense I had when I finished LET THE RIGHT ONE IN, which I will make no secret of being my absolute favorite film of 2008.  This is no small feat, and it's one that Matt Reeves pulls off by being unwaveringly faithful to the source material while still taking stylistic risks that American audiences may not necessarily be prepared for, and which serve to form additional layers of depth to a film many people already enjoyed in its first adaptation.  Think of it like a companion piece about the same people and with the same themes and tones, but with slightly different viewpoints.  It really is quite fun and interesting in its own right.

I also want to single out the score by composer extraordinaire Michael Giacchino, that demonstrates a very nimble approach to scoring a film of this nature, which could come off as a very, very heavy-handed experience.  Instead, he toys with creepy choirs while never going full-blown "HEY!  THIS IS SCARY!!!" style, and he never rubs anything in for too long or keeps a theme going far past the time the music should have died down.  Like his amazing overture at the end of CLOVERFIELD - notable because it was the only score in the film, over the end credits - he has given us a series of compositions that perfectly evoke mood and theme while never intruding upon the space the film needs to properly breathe.

Of course, I could go on and on about the many, many similarities between LET ME IN and its inspiration, but that's not what I want to do.  You can surely find that out there on any number of straight-up review and fan sites, and most of them will probably tell you it's not as good as LET THE RIGHT ONE IN and not to bother.  But I just can't do that.  LET ME IN is its own thing, and it doesn't deserve to be diminished in a climate that produces untold hours of absolute dreck every single week.  To say that something isn't as good as something that is near-perfect is to say absolutely nothing about it.  But to perhaps show how it made me think and react, which I hope to have done here, is to encourage others to give it a chance.  It may make a believer out of you that all remakes aren't necessarily bad.  After all, there were how many versions of the Dracula story in the past century?  And at least a dozen of them are more than worthwhile.  Regardless of all that, LET ME IN remains the tender, horrific and very poignant vampire film that LET THE RIGHT ONE IN is, and that means that it's totally unlike any other film to come out of the current vampire craze.

TIFF 2010 - Midnight Madness, first three selections

Toronto is a very user-friendly major city.  The entertainment district encompasses a large section of downtown, but most everything is easily walkable.  From the Southernmost point in which there are hotels in the area, the furthest theatre takes maybe 45 minutes by foot.  It's really quite convenient for a film festival.  There are tons of films playing - somewhere around 300 - and most look like they would be worth my time if I had it to spare.  The most anticipated portion of the festival's programming before I got here - the always promising Midnight Madness selections at Ryerson Theatre - have held up to my expectations.  Today is Monday, and I've only seen three, but they have so far been fantastic and completely unique in many ways in the world of genre filmmaking.

Friday night saw the world premiere of James Gunn's SUPER, an absurdist, ultraviolent, completely irresponsible real-world superhero film starring Rainn Wilson and Ellen Page.  The film plays a lot with convention, including the responsibility a hero has to not kill the people he's constantly beating to a bloody pulp, but throws it out the window for sheer insanity.  The third act's super dark tone doesn't quite work with the lighter absurdity that comes before it, but it does help the audience swallow all of the bludgeoning with a wrench that happens earlier in the film, as well as the uncomfortable eroticism of being, essentially, raped by Ellen Page, after one of the filthiest, dirtiest lines of dialogue I've ever heard in a film.  Anyone who knows Gunn's work with Troma, or his previous film, SLITHER, has an inkling of what to expect, but this is one difficult flick to take stock of, even by his gratuitous standards.

Saturday night's BUNRAKU, by first time filmmaker Guy Moshe, is a completely unique, wholly original experience that I swear to you is completely unlike anything you've ever seen before.  Imagine a pop-up book filtered through Hollywood noir and Hong Kong action filmmaking, and you have a bit of something to work with.  SIN CITY through the eyes of Yuen Woo Ping, but with the cinematography of DICK TRACY.  In a world where guns are outlawed, all disputes must be settled with fists, and there's lots of dispute settlin'.  This will be an interesting film to follow through to a release, because it defies categorization.  There are moments of such amazing choreography and stuntwork that it's mind-blowing, but then you remember that it's a highly stylized and streamlined narrative that features some really challenging moments of suspension of disbelief.  Wonderful film.

The third night's selection saw Midnight Madness get creepy, with Brad Anderson's (THE MACHINIST, TRANSSIBERIAN) new film, VANISHING ON 7TH STREET.  The premise is classic TWILIGHT ZONE set-up, with a darkness spreading and the majority of a city's citizens disappearing with only their clothing crumpled on the ground where they stood.  Shadows play an integral role in the terror of the film, organic entities that are attempting to grab up the remaining living souls, who have all wound up together in a neighborhood bar being kept lit by a back-up generator.  Hayden Christensen, who I've given plenty of crap for his acting on a lot of occasions, turns in a pretty strong performance, rediscovering the promising chops he showed back before he was cast as young Darth Vader.  Thandie Newton's character is a bit one-note, and John Leguizamo's conspiracy-theorist movie theater projectionist is a standout, but he's given too small a role.  Honestly, this is one creepy film that, much like Anderson's SESSION 9, utilizes its dark atmosphere to stunning effect.  A possible sleeper if it's released wide in the U.S.

The next few nights have some promising fare - John Carpenter's THE WARD and James Wan's INSIDIOUS bring the creepy some more before things get shaken up with RED NIGHTS and THE BUTCHER, THE CHEF, AND THE SWORDSMAN, which I will sadly miss.  In any case, MM is really a highlight of the festival for genre fans, as well as anyone looking for something truly outside the box.  I haven't written the last of my thoughts on these films here.  Look for more in the future.

Essential Listening 02 - "Maybe I Know"

note: I originally wrote the following article for the website SceneSC.com for an (at the time) ongoing column in which I would discuss songs and artists I loved and spotlight the intermingling of music and imagery.  The column never really came to fruition, so I'll be reproducing the unused articles here so they may see the light of day.

This is the greatest pop song ever recorded.

Let that sink in a moment, because I’m dead serious.  Greatest.  Ever.

Recorded by Lesley Gore in 1964, “Maybe I Know” isn’t her most well-known single (that would be “It’s My Party”) or her most haunting (the magnificent proto-fem statement of self-reliance “You Don’t Own Me”), but it is Gore at her absolute best; a distilled essence of innocence, maturity, love,  forgiveness, pop-power and teenage wonder.  Try to listen to this song and not feel something - it’s impossible!

Gore’s singles are interesting in that they form a sort of narrative, following Gore’s innocent teen protagonist from first broken heart to independent woman, all on vinyl, and all within two short years.  “Maybe I Know” falls right in the middle of this story, an epic in which she’s stung by Johnny and Judy, steals her boy back, and eventually proclaims her identity outside of relationships.  She’s the original riot grrrl.

The formation of her personal identity is forged in the first run of the chorus, right up front, in which she proclaims, “Maybe I know that he’s been a-cheatin’ / Maybe I know that he’s been untrue / But what can I do?”  She’s still vulnerable, but learning.  She’s trying to find the answer outside of the traditional pop-identities shared by women at the time: predominantly the feeling that they’d die without a man to make them whole.  What crap.

In 1964, Gore performed for the T.A.M.I. SHOW, a concert film edited together from performances at two separate concert events, and her versions of “Maybe I Know” and “You Don’t Own Me” are particularly memorable.  She exudes energy, smiling, swaying, and really belting out the songs.  I’ve included the video below for you to check out.  The T.A.M.I. SHOW film is one of the key documents of American pop music, and was named to the National Film Registry by the Library of Congress in 2006.  For those interested in the full film, there are also performances by James Brown (one of the most remarkable I’ve ever seen), The Rolling Stones, Smokey Robinson and Chuck Barry, among others.  It is available on DVD.

Back to the song: make no mistake, this is all Gore’s track.  Her performance is flawless, and the music is classic mid-60s girl-group pop.  Gore’s voice is one of the most memorable in all of American popular music, distinct and mature, and completely unwavering.  The song starts out all bouncy horns and soaring vocal, and over the course of 2:35 minutes, it trancends time and space, then brings us back to Earth again.  The experience of listening to “Maybe I Know” is always magical, ethereal, and completely jaw-dropping - it is never any different - and it brings me to my knees every single time.  “What can I do?,” indeed.

Essential Listening 01 - "Where The Wild Roses Grow"

note: I originally wrote the following article for the website SceneSC.com for an (at the time) ongoing column in which I would discuss songs and artists I loved and spotlight the intermingling of music and imagery.  The column never really came to fruition, so I'll be reproducing the unused articles here so they may see the light of day.

I think my Facebook friends are already tired of me going on and on (and on and on) about just how good this song and video are, and about the perfection of the duet by Cave and Minogue, from subject matter to its final execution, but dammit, I just can’t get enough.  This song is something like a religious experience - best experienced by yourself and then shared with others continuously throughout the rest of your life.

In the mid-90s, Cave came up with the idea of doing a full album of murder ballads, which had been a staple on every Bad Seeds album since From Her To Eternity in 1983.  Originally conceived as a joke - a sort of over-the-top “obvious” record, meant to be taken ironically - the resulting release is nonetheless a treasure trove of material.  In addition to this haunting and oddly romantic song, there’s also the rambunctious barnburner “The Curse of Millhaven” and the devastating, violent and explicit reinterpretation of the essential murder ballad, “Stagger Lee”.  But I digress.

“Where the Wild Roses Grow” is the song that makes the album, linking all of the songs together with Cave’s usual semi-crooner persona from this era in his career, the romantic who only sees heartbreak and loss around every corner.  Telling the story of a courtship that ends with the man killing his beloved by the riverside after determining she was too beautiful to ever grow old (and also from the point of view of the confused spirit of the deceased, Elisa Day), the song treads some truly disturbing ground, mostly because it’s such a damned gorgeous composition.

As a fan of both Nick Cave and Kylie Minogue, the sheer logic of them recording together has never quite made sense (I could do a whole other bit on Kylie album “Fever”, but that’s another beast altogether).  But apparently, they had a thing for one another.  There’s a rather amazing little short edited together over on YouTube that tells the story of this pairing (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kFezNxypDK4), and it’s fascinating just to hear the pair of them discuss the song and its legacy.  I highly recommend it.  

But back to the task at hand.  Cave and Minogue’s vocal delivery, surely some of the most amazing to exist in all pop music, is perfection; lightning in a bottle.  It’s awful and beautiful and romantic and ugly in only the way a Nick Cave song can be.  That this album of songs about ugliness, greed, lust and, yes, murder is a prelude to the heartbreaking and tender follow-up The Boatman’s Call is evident in this very song.

And then there’s the video, which is based on painter John Everett Millais’s “Ophelia”, depicting the scene in Hamlet when Ophelia drowns herself in a river.  In the video, of course, Cave is constantly kneeling over his deceased love while she lay in the spot where the wild roses grow.  Visually, it’s all soft-focus photography on the gorgeous Minogue, and harsh shadow for the murdering Cave.  It sends shivers down my spine constantly.