Originally Reviewed – 6/22/2011

Throughout all the bombast and squall of the summer movie season, quiet little jems often get bowled over by the ever-present noise of the local mainstream cinema. While 2011 has been no exception to this, the quality of mainstream movies has actually been pretty decent. With popcorn munchers like Thor, X-Men: First Class and Super 8 all impressing audiences and critics alike, this summer has been a good one for movie lovers who lack access to independent cinema. Sad thing is that this influx of decent summer blockbusters has pushed the indie scene to the background even more than usual for this time of year, despite there being some quality films to be seen. One of those diamonds in the rough is the latest film starring Ewan McGregor, Beginners, a film that examines the balancing act between living in the past and taking hold of your future with mostly delightful results.

McGregor plays Oliver, a late thirty-something artist who lives alone, has a dog he talks to (and talks back via adorably funny subtitles) and has shut out much of the outside world due to a crippling shyness. The film opens with McGregor settling the affairs of his recently deceased father, played near perfectly by Christopher Plummer. This opening scene sets the tone of the film, showing us that while there’s going to be some serious meat to be digested, it’s all layered with a candy coating of wry humor. McGregor is pretty fantastic in this role, reminding me of how good an actor he really can be when given the opportunity. Displaying a great deal of subtlety in his very restrained performance, McGregor goes through the emotions of pain, loss and burgeoning love in a very real and connected way.

Of course, without some fine supporting acting, McGregor’s great work would have been wasted. After the initial introduction to the character of Oliver, the film splits in two, one half detailing the relationship between Oliver during his father’s coming out and the present time, centering around a new relationship with a charming actress named Anna, played by Melanie Laurent. The flashback scenes detailing Plummer’s admitting he’s gay at the age of 75, his subsequent newfound zest for life and the effect it all has on his now older son is easily the strongest stuff in the film, balancing reality and whimsy in equal doses. Inspiring, sweet and poignant, the zeal for living Plummer displays reminds us all it’s never too late to taste the sweetness life has to offer.

On the other side of the coin, the parallel story of Oliver and Anna falls into familiar territory. The impossibly cool couple roller-skates in office buildings, tags up buildings and go to parties with equally cool people, all very fun and interesting but difficult to connect with if you don’t live in Brooklyn or wear American Apparel short pants. Without the excellent work of both McGregor and Laurent in their respective roles, this hipster romance could have been intolerable but with some lovely chemistry and good direction by Mike Mills, the two hold together.

From personal experience, the older you get, the more closed off you tend to become, especially towards relationships and the people you surround yourself with. Like an emotional survival instinct, it gets harder and harder to trust someone for fear of experiencing that same old pain of rejection, especially when you expect things will eventually fall apart. Through the present life of Oliver trying to connect with a maddingly charming woman and the flashbacks of his father breaking free of those emotional bonds in his twilight years, Beginnings shows us both the joy of being open to the world and the consequences of being closed off. Although the film has a small hint of trying to be too clever for the room, the meat of the feature is something we can all take a big bite out of. A celebration of life combined with a cautionary tale of how easily it can be squandered, Beginners may have tried too hard to be everything at one, but when the sum of the parts is this emotionally satisfying, I find it hard to find fault with any of it.

Score – 85%

Originally Reviewed – 6/7/2011

Daniel Day Lewis is an actor that I always look at with a crooked glance. While you can’t argue his energy, passion and work ethic, I sometimes feel the guy needs to be toned down a bit. Fiery eyed and wild in his delivery, most know him for his over the top turns in films like Gangs of New York and There Will Be Blood. Although these are both fine movies in their own right, they feature an actor whose been given free reign. Rather than coaxing a more controlled performance from the actor, they allow him to scream, yell and borderline overact many of the scenes he’s in. Lewis is an actor that needs good direction and without that, he sometimes goes off the rails in his high energy performances. Now, many DDL fans will say that’s simply his style, that Lewis has an intense energy that can’t be contained. To these people, I say look no further than his earlier work, culminating in one of his finest performances to date, the portrayal of Irish painter Christy Brown in the fantastic My Left Foot.

Born with only the use of his left foot due to cerebral palsy, My Left Foot documents the life of Christy Brown, from childhood to his first attempts at painting to the completion of his novel, all accomplished with the use of his remaining working appendage. No ghost writers, no friends working the brushes, just a man and his dreams, creating wondrous works of art despite his handicaps. The film is not only accurate to the life of Brown but true to the nature of the man and the family that supported him. Born in 1930’s Ireland, Brown came from a low income family who didn’t put him in a home, as any family of means would’ve done during that era, but rather take him in as one of their own, giving him a childhood filled with love and patience. This car and attention is faithfully reflected in the film, a wise decision by director Jim Sheridan, who would go on to direct Lewis in both the excellent In the Name of the Father and The Boxer. As the film goes on, we start to feel both Brown’s physical and emotional struggles, creating not just a pitiable character, but a complex one, filled with the same type of frustrations, fears and desires as anybody else. In short, the film is well directed, well written and full of complex yet easily relatable emotions.

Lewis plays Brown in his adult years, and delivers a career making performance, giving the character a very human interpretation. Brown is no sad sack and neither is Lewis’ portrayal, letting his character experience the whole range of human emotions with his signature intensity while still remaining grounded in the role. Playing a character stricken with cerebral palsy, Lewis is limited in his bodily motions, forcing him to rely on solid acting technique to convey Brown’s emotions, the most effective being his steely gaze. Even today, Daniel Day Lewis has an extraordinary way of using his eyes to convey emotions and this film is no exception. The rest of the cast is equally wonderful, including Hugh O’Conor as the boyhood Brown, Ray McAnally as his gruff father and Brenda Fricker in an Oscar winning turn as Christy’s loving mother. Fricker in particular plays her role perfectly, especially one scene where, after hearing Christy struggling to speak with his speech therapist, laments on how much hope there is in his voice. Filled with fear that her son will never be normal, pain at the thought of losing him to a more independent life and worry that he will be ultimately let down in his goal to communicate, the scene is heartrending and deservedly Oscar winning.

Modern day fans of Daniel Day Lewis, take heed. Better yet, take a rainy afternoon, rent yourself the following films in this order and make a day of it. Watch A Room With A View, In the Name of the Father and the movie I just reviewed and take notice. Pay attention to how Lewis, given the proper direction, can generate that intensity and power he’s known for without the need to overwhelm the actors he’s paired up with. With excellent direction, heartfelt acting and a story that makes you think, My Left Foot is a triumphant film that makes you feel not pity or sadness but joy at the successes of this modern day marvel. Not only a star making role for Daniel Day Lewis but a landmark movie for the Irish film industry as a whole, My Left Foot is a powerful story of not only overcoming physical obstacles, of besting the traps and trips that reside within us all.

Score – 90%

Thus far this century, women have been given a raw deal when it comes to comedic films. Gone are the hilarious comediennes of the Mae West / Lucille Ball stamp, being replaced by boorish fellas in gag inducing misadventures, mostly at the expense of their female counterparts. In cinema, comedy has been male dominated for decades and any time a female lands a comedic role, it’s usually in some sappy rom com or an overly sweet made for Lifetime picture. Women are rarely allowed to be cringe inducing, maybe due to societal paradigms, lack of taste for it by audiences or both. Luckily for most of us, that limitation has finally been shattered in what just may be the funniest comedy of the year, Bridesmaids, a hilarious, honest and, yes, fairly gross film that cements lead and co-writer Kristen Wiig as a genuine comedic film star.

In Bridesmaids, Wiig plays Annie, long time friend and maid of honor to bride to be Lillian, played by Maya Rudolph. Immediately you can tell that these former Saturday Night Live cast mates have a natural chemistry and the result is an instantly believable friendship. They talk frankly about the male anatomy, discuss sexual partners and it becomes obvious from the get go that this isn’t going to be your standard sweet female comedy. The language is raw, unrelenting and usually gut bustlingly funny. While Rudolph plays the part of a bride on the cusp of moving from the middle class to high society rather well, Wiig is the star of the show. In the role, Wiig displays uncanny comedic timing and is easily relatable as an emotionally disconnected bridesmaid, mining comedic gold from the depths of pain and longing. Just as her best friend seems to be on the rise, marrying rich and meeting fabulous new friends, life is falling apart all around Annie. Her bakery has failed, her boyfriend has left and she’s relegated to sleeping with a Porsche driving douche who glibly states he really wants her to leave right after making love. The character’s comedy is rooted in real drama and while her decent is borderline melodramatic, Wiig plays it straight, making the moments when she drunkenly makes a scene on a plane or gets the entire bridal party sick with food poisoning not only hilarious but emotionally resonating. A tough balancing act to be sure, but one Wiig pulls off brilliantly.

Of course, this isn’t a solo effort and the rest of the bridal party, while shoehorned into strict archetypes, makes the freefall of Annie even more fun for the viewer. The main antagonist of the film is Helen (Rose Byrne), Lillian’s newest friend from the upper crust who does everything she can to make Lillian’s wedding over the top and magical, much to the chagrin of Annie. This immediate clash of wills and status provides the catalyst for the rest of the film and while Byrne plays the part almost too structured, the dichotomy between the snooty Helen and the grassroots Annie makes for some exceedingly entertaining rifts. The rest of the bridal party rounds out nicely featuring Wendi McLendon-Covey of Reno 911 fame as Rita, an ex-partier mother of three, Ellie Kemper as the almost virginal newlywed and Melissa McCarthy as the rough-necked wild card. While the entire cast is perfectly suited for their roles and pulls them off wonderfully, it’s McCarthy who deserves extra recognition. Stealing every scene she’s in, McCarthy is a joy to watch rampage in and around the many situations the bridesmaids find themselves in. Crass, raw and unabashedly rude, McCarthy not only pulls off the sight gags but much of the final denouement, a tricky feat to be sure but one that she knocked out of the park. High marks also has to given to Chris O’Dowd as the Wiig’s eventual love interest, Rhodes. Being the only male in an all girls party can be a tricky pitch to hit but O’Dowd plays it perfectly, injecting the right mix of Irish charm, patience and good guy sweetness into the role. In a word, Bridesmaids is the best cast movie I’ve seen thus far this year and I doubt another comedy will be able to beat it.

But none of this fine comedic acting would be worth it without some fine material from Wiig and co writer Annie Mumolo and some smart directing by Paul Feig. I’d be interested to find out what percentage of the movie was off the cuff, as it really feels like these women are naturally conversing much of the time but my guess would be a careful mixture of improv and an actual script. Feig does a great job in allowing these ladies to not only be very funny but be very real within their characters. More of a female buddy comedy than anything else, Feig tows the line between gross out humor and real pathos, creating a film that is satisfying on all fronts. This is not a “stupid comedy” by any stretch and one that gives the viewer a chance to laugh and feel in equal measure.

At the outset of this review, I spoke about the paradigm of females being relegated to either objects of male desire or the butt of their jokes. With a blend of fine acting, hilarious comedy and moments so crude you’ll be shocked that they actually agreed to do it, Bridesmaids not only smashes through that barrier, it redefines what it means to be a female fronted comedy. While I hesitate to say this is a landmark film, this is certainly the first step towards comedic equality in filmmaking. Easily the funniest movie you’ll see this year and on par with the equally side splitting The Hangover, Bridesmaids is comedy gold from beginning to end and establishes Kristen Wiig as a brilliant writer and comedic actress. Although the more conservative critics may tisk tisk about his film being too gross, to crass and too “unladylike”, it’s exactly that close-minded nature that Bridesmaid attempts and succeeds at breaking down. Women can be just as crude, silly and irreverent as the boys and in this critic’s opinion, it’s about damn time.

Score – 90%

Originally Reviewed – 5/26/2011

These days, it seems as though the term Marvel has become synonymous with box office gold. With properties like X-Men, Iron Man and Spiderman raking in the dough, it’s hard to think of a summer without a Marvel film featured in it, when in fact, the juggernaut hasn’t been rolling for very long. When Marvel Studios released its first film, Blade, in 1998, DC was the king of the comic film scene, featuring successful adaptations of Superman and Batman. With Blade and 2000’s X-Men making huge box office splashes, Marvel cemented themselves as real players in the comic book movie genre. While some films have been great (Iron Man, Spider Man 2) and some have been miserable (The Punisher, Daredevil, Elektra), Marvel is on a bit of an upswing as of late with its all encompassing Avengers project. The latest film in that pantheon, Thor, tries to keep the streak going and despite some minor issues, does a reasonably good job of maintaining the quality, providing a solid B grade entry into the Stan Lee family of films.

Directed by long time Shakespearian Kenneth Branagh, Thor is a tale of two worlds, one the skyward planet Asgard and the other our very own planet Earth. On Asgard lives our protagonist, Thor, a cocky yet charming heir to the throne, played by first timer Chris Hemsworth. Hemsworth plays the part very well, injecting charm, likability and a sense of immaturity into the character in equal doses. Hemsworth not only looks the part but gives the character some much needed depth, important for the long term development of the character. Thor isn’t the most thoughtful of god people and when he saunters off to the land of the Front Giants to, for lack of a better word, start some shit, his father banishes him to the far off land of Earth, making his brother Loki, played by Tom Hiddleston, the new heir. What follows is a fairly interesting, if not totally predictable battle for power, that’s not unlike the Shakespeare that remains Branagh’s bread and butter. The clash works quite well and although you can see the end result coming a mile away, the strength in the characters more than makes up for it.

In fact, if I have one knock against Thor is that the story is completely and totally predictable. Once Thor lands on Earth, stripped of his godly power, he comes across a team of scientists knocking around the desert looking at storm patterns. This unabashedly contrived meeting sets up the rest of film quite neatly; you have Natalie Portman as the brilliant scientist / love interest, Stellan Skarsgard as a fellow scientist / mentor and Kat Dennings as their assistant / comic relief. As you can see, each character has an archetype to live up to and while this makes for a pretty predictable storyline, each actor does a fine job with the role given. The comedy generally works, the chemistry between Hemsworth and Portman is strong enough and it’s genuinely enjoyable watching Thor stomp around modern day Earth, smashing glasses, being overly polite and adjusting to our primitive society. My only quibble would be Thor’s Asgardian friends, a band of warriors who are so underdeveloped, I couldn’t give you their names if I had gun against my head. The film also does a nice job of jumping between Asgard where Loki is vying for political position and Earth where Thor is just trying to cope with being once again mortal. It’s this nice balance of Shakespearian style familial in fighting and culture clash that moves the film along, although not at the pace most comic fans have come to expect.

On that front, one only has to look toward director Kenneth Branagh for answers. Responsible for some of the best adaptations of Shakespeare ever put to film, including a masterful version of Henry V, Branagh is comfortable letting the actors tell a story, providing a slower, more patient comic book flick than we’ve come to expect from the genre. Summer popcorn fans needn’t fear, though, as the film is nowhere near a Victorian drama. The action is frenetic, there are some top notch special effects in play and the film moves along at a very nice pace; just don’t expect the itchy trigger finger of Iron Man. On the action front, it’s not anything you haven’t seen before, but when I first saw the trailer, I thought, “A hammer? What can one do with a hammer?” Evidently, quite a lot as Thor summons lightning and smashes baddies all about a desolate planet, providing just enough visceral fun to make the film a true summer popcorn flick.

Thor, while falling slightly in the original storytelling department, more than makes up for its faults, providing fun action, an interesting tie to Norse mythology and enough eye candy to keep even the most jaded summer moviegoer entertained. While not quite on the level of the A list Marvel properties, Thor was a nice change of pace for me, providing thrills, pathos and humor in equal measure. Branagh has not been known for big budget action films and while I doubt he’s going to become the next Michael Bay, maybe somewhere along the lines of a Jon Favreau is not completely out of the realm of possibility. A fine opening to the summer popcorn season, Thor is some of the best action you’ll see in theaters this summer. That is, of course, until the next Marvel flick comes rolling into the spotlight.

Score – 80%

Originally Reviewed – 5/21/2011

Growing up, one of my favorite games was always Oregon Trail. The simple story of a pixilated frontier family braving the open expanses of the untamed West always filled me fascination. At first, you cruise along; you hunt for buffalo, stop at towns to buy supplies and ensure your family of travelers is well fed and medicated. After awhile though, things always go south. Two oxen die of cholera, start traveling slower. A wagon wheel looses a spoke, burn a day fixing it. Ma gets a stern case of the rickets, you slow to a crawl so she can recover. Soon, the game ceases to be a leisurely stroll through the undiscovered country; it becomes a war of attrition. Constantly juggling dwindling supplies, disease and your biggest enemy, time, you really start to feel the hardships of a trail worn traveler. What the game doesn’t do is explain what happens when you take the path not blazed. Played on a fairly steady track, you constantly move westward towards California. In the latest film by director Kelly Reichardt, you not only get a feel for the hardships facing those frontier pioneers, you become part of their family, living, breathing and sometimes even suffering through the monotony of the westward plains.

The party of travelers you reluctantly join in made up of three families, the Tetherows, played by Michelle Williams and Will Patton the Gatelys (Paul Dano , Zoe Kazan) and the Whites (Neal Huff, Shirley Henderson). The party is led down toward California by Meek (Bruce Greenwood), a crusty old veteran of the Wild West. Cocksure, unwavering and stubborn, Meek takes the family of gold seekers down a supposed shortcut that looks more and more unfamiliar at every turn. During this introductory act, you can immediately tell this is going to be a grind to get through. While the landscape and scope of this unclaimed country is stunningly photographed, the opening slow pans set the deliberate pace for the rest of the film. Reichardt is in no rush to tell the story and instead turns her patient eye towards creating suspense through stillness. Many in the audience I saw it with started to squirm after the first twenty minutes and while the lack of action can be infuriating to those unprepared, anybody who has seen Reichardt’s other work know exactly what to expect. For me, the quiet of the filmmaking made every moment, from a conversation drenched in flickering campfire light to a slow track across an acrid plain, wrought with tension. The film can be excruciating at times but if you let the stillness work its magic on you, the movie’s ultimate mood is enveloping and at times breathtaking.

Naturally, some good performances didn’t hurt either. The star of the film is Michelle Williams as the mother and head matriarch of the lead family. Her, along with her husband, played by Will Patton, are distrustful of the trail worn Meek, questioning his judgment at almost every turn. Meek has assured them that this path is the easiest route but as they progress, he becomes less and less confident of where they’re heading. Water is scarce, food is scarcer and tensions start to run high. Williams possesses a quiet intensity that colors her character with a smolder that burns beneath her pledge of duty to her husband and family. Williams plays the part to balanced perfection but once the party, at a moment of near desperation, capture a Native American with the choice to either kill him or put aside their fear and to help them fine water, she fully discovers the character’s potential. With the first half playing out almost like a living painting of a landscape, the second half deals solely with the prejudices of the traveling party. Meek wants to kill him, the father wants him to help and while I won’t spoil what the family chooses to do, the arc William’s character undergoes during the process is worth the price of admission alone.

While the ending split the audience I saw this film with in two, half enjoying, half hating, I felt that the conclusion was an appropriately ambiguous end to an emotionally challenging film. Not a film for those who need their movies all sown up in a tidy bow, Meek Cutoff is an example of high art meeting high tension. Although the film certainly isn’t for everybody, and the glacier slow pacing even caused me to sigh now and again, Reichardt is a brave filmmaker who isn’t afraid to let good actors work in a still space and for that, she has my respect. Framed much like the traveling moments of a Cormac McCarthy novel, more than once I thought, especially towards the end, that Reichardt just might be the one to direct a version of Blood Meridian, an adaptation many experts think to be impossible. Slow, tense and in the end, intellectually thought provoking, Meek’s Cutoff is a film lovers movie, a piece of quiet beauty, stunning style and exceptional emotional quality. The text scrawl of, “Jeb has died from scurvy” in Oregon Trail will never read the same again

Score – 90%

Originally Reviewed – 5/11/2011

Super sleuth movies can be a tough nut to crack. These days, audiences often expect more from their James Bond style heroes than dashing looks, nifty gadgets and flying fists. Ever since the Bourne series of films, the standard for being a covert operative has been raised to not only examine the missions but take a look at the person doing all that butt kicking. Films that take the time to develop those characters tend to do well and films that don’t, people cease to care about. No matter how much fun it can be to watch somebody leap from a car going ninety miles an hour while bullets fly by, audiences connect with people, not super humans with guns. Hanna, the latest film from director Joe Wright, wisely takes the standard “guy/gal on the run from baddies” storyline and creates an interesting character that audiences will want to see more of in future installments. Let’s just hope that if Wright and company actually turn this into a franchise, they surround our heroine with something more interesting to do.

Opening in the snow encased wilds of Northern Finland, we meet Hanna, a 16 year old girl who lives with her ex-CIA father, played by Eric Bana. Hanna is there for one reason and one reason alone: to become a teenage ass kicking machine. Bereft of technology or modern advances, Hanna has traded blogging on Facebook for bow hunting elk and high school swim meets for training in hand to hand combat. This unusual entry into the world of our central character helps set this film apart from the other entries in the genre. Not only do you get a young girl with enough fighting skill to take down a small army, you get a vulnerable one. Hanna has never even seen a piece of technology before and when she sets out on a journey to take down corrupt CIA operative Marissa Wigler (played by Cate Blanchett), much of the fun is not just the chase but her interactions with this crazy world of science we all take for granted. While much of the character development is us watching her struggle with light switches and electric blenders, high marks have to go to Saoirse Ronan for giving the character a sense of helplessness to even out her deadly assassin side. The character is fresh, interesting and fun to watch as we not only see her carry out her mission but learn about modern life in a way that is always engaging

As for the mission itself, this is where Hanna starts to fall apart in places. Hanna marks director Joe Wright’s first foray into the action genre and the inexperience shows when the fists start flying. While the action involving Hanna is appropriately primal, especially given the young girls upbringing, the fight scenes start to stale as the film marches on. Hanna fights some henchmen, Wigler is on the hunt and it all boils down to a conclusion that left me a little cold. Despite some very nice camerawork and some great use of one take shots, the action in Hanna isn’t anywhere near as involving as the character herself. Action is deceptively difficult to do and while Hanna doesn’t fail completely, it definitely lacks a certain punch in rhythm and pacing. While these shortcomings do hinder the film as a pure action movie, Hanna is well directed, nicely shot and finely acted by the principal cast. A neat little action thriller that tries to rise above the malaise of the genre, Hanna has a great central story and enough visceral thrills to keep it moving along. While not the best film Wright has ever or will ever do, Hanna still succeeds on the strength of its star and leading lady. A character I wouldn’t mind seeing again in the cinemas sometime soon, Hanna serves its purpose as an indie fan’s action flick.

Score – 70%

Originally Reviewed – 5/5/2011

Sometimes when a director moves from the indie space to the Hollywood arena, their message gets a bit muddled in transition. Ideas get churned up in the studio machine, producers make suggestions based on marketing material and actors make demands based on image, notoriety and celebrity. While I wouldn’t know from firsthand experience, I can imagine that it isn’t easy having a critical hit made on a modest budget just to have a studio turn around and hand you six times the money to make your follow up. This is exactly what happened to British director Duncan Jones. Made with a budget of about $5 million, Jones’ first film, Moon, was received with rave reviews from critics and audiences alike. Leading man Sam Rockwell got some Oscar looks and Duncan’s debut made him a director on the rise. So when Jones got a tidy sum of 32 million dollars to made his second film he chose a twisty science fiction script about an army soldier who is tasked with replaying the final eight minutes of a horrific train accident over and over again in an attempt find the person responsible. The film became Source Code and while the result is a neat little story that features a fine performance by its star Jake Gyllenhaal, the film doesn’t quite reach the heights of Duncan’s previous effort due some unfortunate missteps in the script.

Throwing the viewer right into the fray from the first frame, at first not much is known about the army soldier played by Gyllenhall. Luckily for the audience, the combination of the character’s army persona and Gyllenhall’s natural likability help the audience quickly connect to our confused protagonist. Bewildered, lost and finding himself following orders from a far off officer well played by Vera Farmiga, the soldier now known at Private Colter Stevens find himself getting zapped over and over into the body of a recently deceased schoolteacher, a passenger on that doomed train. The goal? To find out who planted the bomb and, with this information, prevent another disaster from occurring. At first I thought reliving the same eight minutes over and over again would become tiresome but Jones does a great job in keeping each reiteration fresh, making smart decisions in when to change things up and when to cut to the chase.

While on this time bound merry-go-round, Stevens encounters an attractive young woman named Christina, played by Michelle Monaghan, who eventually becomes his love interest. While I understand the point of having a romantic lead, this is where the film starts to teeter on its own wheels. Again relying on the instant likability of the two stars, the film fails to give the burgeoning relationship any grounds for existing, other than to provide an anchor for the emotionally charged second half. Still, Jones obviously knows how to work with actors and directs both Gyllenhall and Monaghan well enough to give the audience something to latch onto. Sure, we have no idea why they fall for each other but they are likable enough for us to not really care.

Already on shaky but acceptable ground, the film really starts to hit the skids when it tries to explain its science. Once the initial shock of the soldier repeatedly reliving a disaster wears off, the film wisely starts to explain how all this time jumping is possible in the first place. While watching the film, I found myself nodding my head, saying, “Yeah, yeah, that makes sense…but no, it really doesn’t” and once that happened, I found myself thrown out of the action. It also doesn’t help that the explanations are rushed, confusing and slightly illogical, depending completely on the audience’s total suspension of disbelief. Compelling stars and good acting may be enough for us to believe the relationships but the leaps of faith asked of the audience concerning the science is too far a jump, even for a speedy action flick.

Still, through all this pseudo science and baseless romance, I found myself enjoying the film very much. As the second half ramps up the drama and the mystery of the bomber begins to unravel, I found myself caught up in the action. I even thought the relationship worked at a very basic level, a huge credit to Jones’ skill with directing actors. As it led up to the conclusion, I felt oddly entertained. Yes, the movie got lost in its own science but thanks to a few key scenes, including a wonderful moment when Gyllenhall calls his father, I felt the humanity of the piece in full force. And as the final shot filled the screen, completely telegraphed but still satisfying, I felt glad that this story somehow, someway worked in the end, despite the lack of character development and confusing techno-babble.

The ending came. And it went. Yet the film kept going.

As the reality of the situation dawned on me, a stifled “no” escaped my lips. The shot I had just witnessed was an end, an untidy, messy ending to be sure but a deeply human one just the same. So why was the film still going? And why are they doing that? And what is Farmiga talking about here? And Gyllenhall is going to do what??? Every minute of that ending drew more ire from me, getting me to the point where I could do nothing but mutter, “End already”, through my clenched teeth. In the short seven minutes between the supposed ending and the actual one, I went from satisfied acceptance to baffled, confounded and really pissed off.

In the end, Source Code contains 86 minutes of an enjoyable if illogical action thriller capped off with seven minutes of an ending so reproachfully tidy, there might as well been Care Bears and unicorns dancing about while the credits rolled. While exiting the theater, my first thought was that the ending had to be the brainchild of some studio executive sitting in a pristine office somewhere in Hollywood. Surrounded by market research, Excel charts and demographic data, this studio peon had to have conjured up the hamfisted conclusion to a movie that was shaping up to be a better than average science fiction flick. It was hard to imagine the director of the daringly disarming Moon could have thought this up and if he did, this mistake did the film and the audience a huge disservice. Regardless of who’s responsible, Source Code is still an entertaining film, even if it suffers from an illogical plot, stunted character development and a burning desire to appease everyone all at once. While I still think director Duncan Jones is an extraordinary talent who infuses his films with a very human flavor, I hope his next project allows the audience to wonder not in confusion of the plot or annoyance at the ending but at the uncanny way he allows his characters to live on the screen.

Score – 60%

Originally Reviewed – 4/30/2011

8:30 PM, April 29th, the 11th evening of the 2011 Tribeca Film Festival. Upon getting to the theater, the crowd was buzzing about the world premiere of the latest film from director Tony Kaye. Mostly known for his brilliant American History X, slightly known for the polarizing abortion documentary Lake Of Fire and widely known for being a wild eccentric, nobody can deny Kaye’s skill behind the camera. However, when one of the festival employees walked up to the audience before the screening, pulled out a microphone and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, Tony Kaye is with us tonight and would like to say a few words”, nobody was prepared. Sporting a 13th century beard, an acoustic guitar and a sense of boundless enthusiasm, he walked up to the screen, said literally three words about the color red and sat back down. A strange introduction to the film to be sure but, in the end, completely appropriate. Detachment, a film about a substitute teacher dealing with the issues in both his own life and in the school of troubled kids he works in, is easily the best movie Kaye has ever made. A film of undeniable beauty and an unwavering understanding of the human condition, Detachment is an experience best taken in without any introduction at all.

Staring Adrian Brody, in what’s easily his finest performance since his Oscar winning turn in the Pianist, Detachment starts off as raw as you would expect a Tony Kaye film to be. Brody is wonderful in the role, both in the classroom standing up to some of the most intensely troubled kids you’ll see in a film and in his private life. Brody plays both the tough yet pragmatic school teacher and the tortured soul at home, each with a skill that’s amazing to watch. While Brody reminded me of Ryan Gosling’s character in the excellent Half Nelson, Brody’s issues are more deeply rooted and better explained than the pain of Gossling. Also, while Gossling deals with his demons by shooting up in a girl’s locker room, Brody is much more stoic, purging his demons in spurts of frustration in an overall sea of numbness. The rest of the cast is damn near pitch perfect, including Marcia Gay Harden as the school’s principal, James Cann as the callous yet hilarious veteran teacher and Kaye’s own daughter, Betty as a troubled yet talented teen looking for direction. The cast is well utilized and nary is a frame wasted in telling the stories of people stretched to their absolute limits.

On the storytelling front, Kaye has never been one to shy away from the more intense side of film-making, and he doesn’t start here. In documenting the scholastic hell Brody and company find themselves in, Kaye pull no punches providing some of the grittiest scenes I’ve ever seen in a film about emotionally disturbed kids. The crazy thing is, despite the extreme nature of the students, I can’t help but think these children exist. Ignored by failing schools, pandered to by teachers who have checked out and seeing no support from blame shifting parents, it is obvious screenwriter Carl Lund experienced these outcast students first hand. No matter how extreme it may be, everything in the movie feels genuine and rooted in reality. The pain of both supporting and being in this fringe society is hammered home, almost to the point of melodrama. However, Kaye balances this film out beautifully, not only providing dark humor, mostly in the work of Cann, but giving the audience a glimpse of light at the end of the emotional tunnel. Kaye understands that there’s always a glowing ember in even the darkest of stories and by helping his actors make positive decisions, even when dealing with some heavy emotional baggage, the film allows the audience to push through the heart-rending drama. The film is also marvelously shot in Kaye’s signature style, all leading up to a final set of scenes that defines the word jaw-dropping.

Despite his technical brilliance, Tony Kaye is far from a Hollywood darling. During the making of American History X, he fought with his actors, made New Line Cinema delirious with demands, took out full page ads in trade papers condemning the film and begged the Directors Guild to remove his name from the credits. Even at the premiere, he looked off with his ragamuffin bread, jangly walk and difficult speech impediment. To be fair, if you saw him on the street, you’d probably think he was homeless. However, after experiencing Detachment and seeing that there is indeed a genius behind the hoopla, I can only say that I hope it doesn’t take another thirteen years before his next dramatic film. Hell, if he needs some cash to help it get going, I’ll pony up a couple of bucks. The wild haired, guitar toting director that had made me think, “Oooh, he’s a little crazy” at the outset, had created a work of art that shocked me into silence. Simply put, the world needs more directors with a singular, soulful vision and the will to put it on screen for the world to see. A movie that cements Kaye as a filmmaker of skill, daring and insight, Detachment is a must see for anybody who’s felt at some point that the world was full of insurmountable pain yet still found the strength to push on anyway.

Note: While I try to do the most bare bones synopsis possible when writing my reviews (let’s be honest, you can read what a flick is about on this very site), I purposefully left out as much as possible about the plot of Detachment. Suffice to say, I wouldn’t want to lessen the impact of the movie by giving away any of the story points. Seriously, when it reaches theaters, just see it. You won’t be disappointed. Also, when the credit finished rolling, Kaye was kind enough to do a brief question and answer session. Usually, when this happens, the movie elite like to barrage the filmmakers with questions: what was your motivation, how was working with Brody, etc. Even I had thought up a question about who was the teacher that influenced him as a kid and if he ever was one of these cast off students. This time though, nobody uttered a sound. If a film can get connect with a room full of film geeks enough to stun them into complete silence, you know it’s something special.

Score – 100%

Originally Reviewed – 4/25/2011

As I’ve said in a number of different reviews, New York is a city comprised of characters. From the bag lady on the 6 train to the Upper West Side sophisticate, from the Brooklyn based hipster to the androgynous fella who jogs in tights, a fishnet top and a crack hugging thong, the City That Never Sleeps is also the City That Never Ceases To Surprise. While some of these characters are often there to shock, appall or simply annoy, there are a few standouts that show the true color of the city whilst melding into the background. Seldom seen but uniquely New York, these characters buzz around the ether, making little moments of magic wherever they happen to go. The titular subject of a brand new documentary by first time director Richard Press, Bill Cunningham is one of those outliers, a camera wielding, picture snapping man of joy whose story is inspirational, poignant and uplifting all at the same time.

For those of you don’t know, Bill Cunningham is an 85 year old fashion photographer who spends his days perched on the street corners of New York City’s more fashionable areas, snapping pictures of random people whose fashion sense catches his meticulous eye. Just don’t expect to get a pic in his column if you’re rocking an H&M sweater and a pair of Levi’s jeans. The more expressive the better and whatever Bill happens to capture on a given day ends up in his weekly column in the New York Times. While this may seem a mundane subject for a documentary, Mr. Cunningham is anything but. Despite being one of the most influential photographers in all of fashion, Bill lives an austere life; he lives in a tiny studio, rides his ancient Schwinn bicycle and spends almost no money on himself. The man’s sole purpose is the documenting of the fashion created by everyday people and that single minded focus is what makes him brilliant. The man is also a downright sweetheart, constantly smiling, laughing and finding pleasure in the very act of living, even when a potential subject tells him to “f himself”.

The film reflects the quiet joy of its subject, firstly following Bill through his daily activities and standard routines. The doc does a sublime job of giving the Bill room to breathe, in turn giving the audience an unobstructed view of the artist at work. The film follows him from the sidewalk to the runway, fashion events and even to the streets of Paris, where he gives an acceptance speech for the esteemed Order of Arts and Letters. Up to this point, Bill comes off as a kooky yet earnest genius: he jokes with the filmmakers, obsesses over layouts and goes about this day with his signature smile intact. Here, however, is where you first see the emotion behind the magic and the moment of his acceptance speech is easily one of the most emotionally cutting moments I’ve seen in a doc this year. The filmmakers also deserve high praise for the respect given to their subject. At several points in the film, you can tell they back off from the cutting questions, understanding that it’s not that he doesn’t have the answers but has the right to withhold if need be. The result is an even keeled and positive film that never becomes too invasive or mean spirited.

As you go through the film, you realize it’s aptly named. Bill Cunningham is more than just an old guy on a bike snapping photos of weirdos; he’s a boro onto himself, an island of single sighted purpose finding joy in his photos and fulfillment in his work despite the sacrifices inherent in the life he chose to live. One of those film you can’t frown at eve if you tried, Bill Cunningham, New York examines a visionary talent with an empathy and grace uncommon with a subject so wonderfully odd. Lesser filmmakers could have made a mockery of the man but you can tell this is a labor of love, a documentary made to inspire, not smear. As the film finishes, you find out just how many people Bill Cunningham has inadvertently touched and realize he’s touched you too. A remarkable documentary about a remarkable New York character, Bill Cunningham, New York not only tells the story, but conveys the spirit, a rare feat in documentary filmmaking.

Score – 90%

Originally Reviewed – 4/20/2011

I am not, what most people would call, a religious person.

Growing up in working class New Jersey, I had a Roman Catholic upbringing, complete with a Christening, a Confirmation, several weekends spent at CCD and more than a few confessions made at the local church. My family wasn’t terribly into it and my spiritual training consisted mostly of, “do it, because you’re supposed to”. My family consisted of true “CE” Catholics, meaning they only saw the inside of Saint Anthony’s on Christmas and Easter. Any other time, heading to the chapel was more of a chore than a spiritual journey, much like vacuuming the living room or cutting the grass. As an adult, that apathy towards modern religion has stuck around. While I feel more in tune with the spiritual side of things as I’ve grown older, I’ve never felt the need to head to a church to have a spiritual moment. That is, until I saw the latest film by director Xavier Beauvois, Of Gods and Men. Not only is this film a piece of quiet beauty, it speaks to the audience on a level deeper than simple dialogue and scenes, creating a spiritual experience that sticks with you months after the final frame flickers on screen.

Discussing a film of such depth and meaning in any traditional sense is difficult at best. The true story of eight Trappist monks on a mission in Algeria and their collective decision to either flee the erupting civil violence or stay as a symbol to the people they’ve sworn to help is just the surface dressing for a more emotional experience. At the outset, the monks go about their daily business quietly and peacefully: they garden, visit the town leaders, settle some petty disputes, all while maintaining a sense of quiet serenity. This peace is echoed in the filmmaking which could be brashly described as “slow” but I much prefer patient. The film moves at a glacial pace but the tempo only serves to heighten the connection between the audience and the action on screen. This is especially true when the camera settles on the monks at prayer. These scenes, usually framed in a single wide shot or in a slow track, show the eight brothers praying in harmony, singing, connecting and being one with God. A disconnected viewing will make the scene seem indulgent and boring but if you allow yourself to meld with the moment, the effect is quietly powerful.

As the film movies from the day to day work to the drama of the burgeoning civil war that threatens the sanctity of the monk’s community, the drama escalates accordingly, all while keeping the sense of peace and serenity established in the fist half hour. While you’ll have a hard time differentiating who’s who at the beginning, once the tension ramps up, you start to see the color of each character: some want to stay, some want to flee and they all have their own motivations as to why. The cast is unilaterally great in their respective roles, all leading up to the “wine at dinner” scene which is so brilliantly played by the actors and beautifully directed, I challenge you to not smile while still having a tear in your eye. While the scene does border on melodrama, given the gravity of the situation they find themselves in, it’s completely understandable.

Of Gods And Men is the first film of 2011 that I can honestly label as brilliant. From the opening scene to the final snow blanketed frame, the movie not only tells a compelling story, it shakes you to the core, challenging you to re-examine your own ideas of faith, all told in an unforced and beautiful way. When the credits roll on a film, I usually leave right away. Trains to catch, things to do, reviews to write, etc. The time though, I felt compelled to sit there with what I had watched, letting the thoughts and emotions roll through me. Disquieting yet necessary, the film had not only taken me on a journey with eight men of peace, eight men who, in the spirit of true religious charity showed exactly what it was to live for an ideal, it took me on a journey within myself. The chilly walk home that evening was surprisingly quiet for nine o’clock on the Upper West Side, a perfect ending to a remarkable film going experience. Alone with my thoughts, I had a small epiphany about this film and the message it was trying to preach, something that’s stuck with me to this day.

Maybe you won’t have the same experience. Maybe you’ll read this review, thrown it on the Netflix list, sit down with it in six months and say, “Ehhhh…man this flick is slow. What’s on A&E”? If so, I don’t mind. Movies like this speak to different people in different ways and it really isn’t the type of thing meant for mass consumption. My only advice is that if you do choose to see it, see it properly. Turn off the phone, dim the lights to black and just sit with it. Get wrapped up in it. Let the patient pacing, lovely acting and wondrous direction fill you with a solemn type of serenity that’s unlike anything I’ve experience while watching a film. Like or hate it, your perception of what a film can aspire to will be irrevocably changed.

Score – 100%