Monday, September 15, 2014
The Drop is adapted by Dennis Lehane from his short story "Animal Rescue", and ads for the film don't miss a chance to put it right next to other recent offerings based on Lehane's work. (If you saw Mystic River and Shutter Island without knowing their origins then would you ever believe Lehane wrote both novels?) Director Michael R. Roskam puts us in a part of Brooklyn where the characters are pretty unlikely to run into the cast of Girls. The Drop (the title refers to a bar chosen as the collection point for money from other Mob bars) has atmosphere and fine performances, including the final film work of James Gandolfini, to recommend it. Yet in opening out the short story I think Lehane and Roskam have lost sight of what stories here are worth telling, and a strong effort ends up being a little less than the sum of its parts. Gandolfini plays a man called "Cousin Marv", who used to own the bar that bears his name but now serves as figurehead since the Chechen Mob took over the place. Marv's most trusted employee is bartender Bob Saginowski (Tom Hardy in a carefully coiled performance), who when he isn't working seems content to kick around his dead parents' house and walk the pit bull he finds injured in a neighbor's trash can. That trash can belongs to Nadia (Noomi Rapace), a waitress with a taste for difficult men who slowly takes a liking to Bob.
Lehane loads his script with twists and revelations, but the best thing about The Drop is its depiction of a closed criminal ecosystem. There's a cop (John Ortiz) in the film who knows what's going but can't prove it because nobody is talking. The neighborhood connections between Marv, Bob, and their associates go back years, and the thought of involving the NYPD in any of the various crimes that take place in The Drop is as laughable as Bob serving Chechen underboss (Michael Aronov) a PBR. But what is this film about? Marv is filled with self-loathing at the way he gave in to the Chechens, but because the script is so busy Marv's growing desperation can only move in fits and starts. I don't know what kind of health Gandolfini was in while shooting The Drop, but his performance is excellent. Marv is uncomfortable in his own skin, itching for action and movement but held back by both age and circumstance. Whatever physical baggage Gandolfini brought to the role is seamlessly put into what's onscreen. The role of Marv is a supporting one though, because we are really supposed to be interested in the slow revelation of the fact that Bob is quite a bit more substantial than he first appears. It is hard to believe Tom Hardy played both Bob Saginowksi and Bane, and his withholding performance eventually pays off in a climax that raises the question of why Bob's name isn't on the front of the bar. It's a kick to watch Hardy work us like an old pro, but the ending doesn't really take the movie anywhere and the Bob's relationship with Nadia exists only to make other things happen. (Rapace is vivid but wasted to a large degree.) The Drop is a good try, an overcrowded movie that circles back into a too familiar place.
Saturday, September 06, 2014
Work is the true subject of Jon Favreau’s Chef, a winning comedy of American mid-life reinvention. Favreau, who wrote and directed, plays a chef named Carl Casper whose Los Angeles restaurant is bracing for a visit from an online food critic (Oliver Platt). Carl has a special menu planned, but the restaurant’s owner (Dustin Hoffman) wants him to stick to tried and true favorite dishes. After a negative review Carl can’t take it anymore, a blow-up in the restaurant makes him a viral video star, and he finds himself without either a job or any prospects. The heart of the movie is the divorced Carl’s brusque relationship with his son Percy (Emjay Anthony), in which Carl confuses activity with attention. I’m not sure I’ve seen a more emasculating moment on film than the one where Carl’s ex (Sofia Vergara) asks him to accompany her on a trip to Miami so that he can be a “nanny” to his own son.
Jon Favreau can probably get almost any movie made that he wants to at this point, so while it’s tempting to cast Carl’s story (successful professional strikes out on new course in search of self-satisfaction) onto Favreau’s life I don’t think Chef is an allegory for Favreau not wanting to direct comic-book movies anymore. Carl lucks into a food truck, teams up with a pal (John Leguizamo), and winds up driving the truck back to Los Angeles with Percy along for the ride. Percy becomes a line cook and learns about the level of craftsmanship and effort his father expects, and the movie becomes a sort of love letter to fulfilling work. Jon Favreau doesn’t just want to make personal films, he wants to make good films well. Favreau’s scenes with Emjay Anthony have just the right level of awkwardness and desire for connection; Chef feels awfully right when it comes to depicting a divorced dad/child relationship. (Percy becomes the social media director for his Dad’s food truck; Chef gets Twitter right too.) The unusually starry supporting cast is as good as you expect: in addition to Hoffman and Leguizamo there’s Scarlett Johansson as a maitre d’, Bobby Cannavale as Carl’s lieutenant, and a funny cameo from Robert Downey, Jr. as a man once married to Carl’s ex. There may not be much that happens in Chef that one won’t expect, but the warmth and affection on display (helped by a salsa-heavy soundtrack) are welcome from Jon Favreau and signal a new chapter in his career. Chef doesn’t deserve to get lost as summer slips into fall; it’s an observant film full of both humanity and pleasure.
Sunday, August 31, 2014
The Giver is based on Lois Lowry's 1993 novel of a reorganized society in which conflict has been stamped out through the elimination of memory and emotion. The book was a forerunner of the current vogue for dystopian young-adult literature and the film, well directed by Philip Noyce, succeeds where other films in the genre fall short simply by being about something. It's all very well to take an anti-totalitarian stance, but The Giver is specifically concerned with the transformative effects of knowledge in a way that feels both long overdue and very fresh. After an unspecified disaster all citizens are required to take daily injections that regulate their emotions and memories. Only the Receiver of Memory (Jeff Bridges, whose character is known as "The Giver") is allowed to know the past and what it might mean for the future. Our way into the story is through Jonas (Brenton Thwaites), who when he turns eighteen is selected to be the next Receiver and be given access to all human memory and emotion. What happens when The Giver and Jonas get together may be expected - Jonas immediately recognizes what's wrong with his society - but the way that Philip Noyce executes it is not. Noyce films the early scenes in black and white and only gradually introduces color as The Giver awakens Jonas's senses. The look of the film is austere by design, the cinematography, design, and costumes (Jeff Bridges is costumed like a 19th century President) create an almost old-fashioned feeling; it's as if we were watching an older idea of what the future might look like. The memories that Jonas receives are as simple as snow and as dire as a battlefield, but Noyce shoots them in exhilarating color to mirror Jonas's sensory disruption.
Before watching The Giver I saw a trailer for a film called The Maze Runner which appears to follow the standard YA template of putting pretty people in dire situations. There are pretty people on hand here - Thwaites, Odeya Rush as Jonas's friend Fiona, Alexander Skarsgard, Katie Holmes, and Taylor Swift - but The Giver is unusually elegant in its restraint. The action adventure plot takes over quite late in the film, when Jonas must rescue an infant who may be the next Receiver, but Noyce prefers to focus on the sensation of a kiss or the color of an apple. I'm not even sure that The Giver needed the presence of Meryl Streep in a beefed-up role as "Chief Elder". Streep gets to play coiled menace but is cut off from the main action until the end, when she stats her case that free will means humans will "choose wrong". Bridges gets a slightly on-the-nose monologue in response, and he plays it beautifully. The Giver is an unusual case, a film I enjoyed as much for what wasn't there as what was. While it's box-office performance likely won't merit a sequel, this well-made and quietly politcal film deserves more attention that it has received.
Saturday, August 30, 2014
When The Game Stands Tall is the story of the De La Salle High School football Spartans, a California squad whose record 151-game winning streak came to an end in 2004. The previews don’t mention that De La Salle is a private religious school, able to attract players from a wider area than its rivals. The movie, directed by Thomas Carter (the screenplay is drawn from a book by Neil Hayes), is filled with game sequences and inspirational speeches but is almost obtusely concerned with adversity and the overcoming of it by the team. To the extent that When The Game Stands Tall works, it does so because Jim Caviezel commits to playing a boring character. Caviezel plays Head Coach Bob Ladouceur, who in the movie’s conception is a man who views himself as a teacher who just happens to be a football coach. Ladouceur is committed to the development of his players as men and to the ideals that the movie espouses: team, humility, hard work. Caviezel attacks the role with the appropriate doggedness, but the movie forgoes any sense that Ladouceur enjoys his success or that he’s even a brilliant football mind. (The real Ladouceur retired in 2013 having won over 93 percent of his games.) Michael Chiklis is much more convincing as an assistant coach, and as Ladouceur’s wife Laura Dern gets to play all kinds of conflicting emotions as she watches her husband reject lucrative college coaching offers. Once the streak ends early in the movie there is little that happens that one won’t expect. A hot-dog receiver (Jessie Usher) becomes a team player, a star running back (Alexander Ludwig) struggles with an overbearing father (Clancy Brown), and the coach’s son (Matthew Daddario) is asked to come through at a key moment. There is even a big game at the end, though refreshingly the movie doesn’t hinge on the outcome. When The Game Stands Tall contains an admirable message but too little of the exhilaration of sports.
Sunday, August 24, 2014
The Underneath, directed by Steven Soderbergh and released in 1995, is a modern film noir in which style trumps a lack of substance. Michael Chambers (Peter Gallagher) is returning home to Texas for the marriage of his mother (Anjanette Comer) to a kindly armored car driver named Ed (Paul Dooley). We don't know where Michael has been, but a series of flashbacks reveal the reason he left. Michael was a compulsive gambler whose habit cost him his life in Texas and relationship with Rachel (Alison Elliott), an actress who was willing to put up with a surprising amount of the ups and downs caused by Michael's betting. With his habit apparently under control, Michael is back home and in need of a job much to the displeasure of his cop kid brother (Adam Trese). The action of the film involves Michael's attempt to reconnect with Rachel while avoiding the wrath of her husband Tommy (william Fichtner), a club owner who doesn't need much persuasion to help plan the bank robbery that is the centerpiece of The Underneath.
Steven Soderbergh co-wrote the screenplay for The Underneath (with Daniel Fuchs) under a pseudonym, and almost from the very first blue-tinted shot the movie feels like the work of a someone who views conventional narrative as a starting point. There are three distinct timelines: the day of the bank robbery, Michael's return home and eventual employment by Ed's armored car company, and flashbacks to Michael's gambling days. The structure gives some energy to the material, which otherwise would have seemed pulpish and ordinary. There's no effort expended to make a probably miscast Peter Gallagher's Michael likeable or especially interesting; the character is defined by his needs, whatever they are. After the robbery there's a long in scene in which Michael receives a succesion of visitors in hospital, and we experience them in the same way Michael does as he floats in an out of consciousness. Why is the owner (Joe Don Baker) of the armored car business so happy? Will Michael's suspicious brother turn him in? Finally a stranger comes into the room at Michael's request "just to talk", and both a now-lucid Michael and the audience start to really question their perceptions. The scene is a simple but marvelous exercise in controlled tension.
The Underneath is a minor work in Soderbergh's career, but one that bears the promise of the good things that were yet to come. Rewatching the film two decades after its release is a fun exercise for anyone looking for examples what a great director can do for genre material.
Saturday, August 23, 2014
John Michael McDonagh’s Calvary is a fascinating missed opportunity. Irish Catholic priest Father James (Brendan Gleeson) is threatened with death by a parishioner while he is hearing confession in the opening scene, and the rest of the movie is the story of the week he is given to put his affairs in order before the threat is to be carried out. James is one of two priests in a small community filled with an assortment of souls badly in need of guidance, and McDonagh’s script doesn’t forego any opportunity to give his characters a grievance with either James or with the Church he represents. It’s this overly determined quality that is both the most original element and the biggest problem with Calvary. McDonagh’s script seems to say there isn’t a place for religion in the modern world, no place for the simple healing vision of God’s love that James offers his flock. It’s a fascinating subject, but one that isn’t well served by the script’s offering up a broadly sketched collection of characters who come to feel like the suspects in an Agatha Christie story. When the true purpose of Calvary is revealed the film becomes something lesser, a blunt instrument designed to make the most obvious possible point.
What is a priest for? That’s the question James seems to be asking himself as the week goes on, even if the film as a whole has other things on its mind. James was a late convert to the priesthood, he has a troubled adult daughter (Kelly Reilly) and only became a priest after his wife died. Brendan Gleeson plays James with a palpable weariness, an understanding that his kind may be passing out of the world. It’s an understated performance but one full of deep reserves of both compassion and sometimes self-directed confusion. James doesn’t seem able to do much for those he meets along the way, whether it’s the cynical doctor (Aiden Gillen) or the woman (Orla O’Rourke) who wears sunglasses to mass to hide her bruises. Indeed the movie almost doesn’t have time for all its characters. I’m not sure what we’re supposed to make of the male hustler (Owen Sharpe) who talks as if he were in a James Cagney movie. The most practical service James performs is the acquisition of a gun for use by an elderly writer (M. Emmet Walsh), but the gun of course ends up figuring in the movie another way. All of these characters, even a murderer (Domhnall Gleason) James visits in prison, are firmly on their own path and listen to the priest out of courtesy as opposed to need. It’s that sense of James’ growing irrelevance that saps Calvary of drama as the week runs out and ultimately makes it less than the sum of its parts.
Calvary wouldn’t feel authentic to its time if the subject of sexual abuse by priests was ignored, and the bind good priests like James are in is well-put in a heartbreaking scene in which a father misunderstands the brief conversation James has with his young daughter. It’s just at the moment when James meets his would-be killer on the beach that it comes clear sexual abuse and culpability are the major subjects of Calvary. A character we’ve barely met is revealed to be both anguished and very articulate, and John Michael McDonagh’s vision of what the Church can be now turns out to be an extremely dark one. In its quest to be relevant Calvary overplays its hand and ends up being a sensationalistic miss.
Sunday, August 17, 2014
Guardians of the Galaxy is of course both the latest in the interlocking "Marvel Universe" series of films and the first to go outside the pantheon of heroes featured in The Avengers. The film, directed by James Gunn, is also a marked departure in tone from previous Marvel efforts. I don't think I've ever seen superhero films with as much psychological depth as the Captain America saga, and the other Avengers films have reached for a similar depth with mixed results. Yet Gunn has made a comedy with action, a film meant to feel like a cult movie from the 1980's that one stumbles on by accident and then loves in the same way that Peter Quill (Chris Pratt) treasures a cassette tape of 1970's pop music from his mother. For those who have been following the Marvel films the effect is as if Beverly Hills Cop had been inserted into the Star Wars franchise. The change in tone is jarring and one is left wondering just what the point of it all was supposed to be.
After a prologue in which young Peter Quill is kidnapped from Earth on the day his mother dies, we jump forward and find the adult Peter a sort of low-rent Han Solo type. Peter's pursuit of an orb that contains (unknown to him) an "Infinty Stone" puts him in the way of Gamora (Zoe Saldana), a genetically modified raccoon called Rocket (voiced by Bradley Cooper), a walking tree known as Groot (Vin Diesel), and a tough named Drax (Dave Bautista in the film's funniest performance). This crew is charged with securing the stone from Ronan (Lee Pace), a madman with megalomaniacal ambitions, and ultimately from future Avengers foe Thanos. the outcome is all too predictable, Quill will crack wise while coming into his own as a man while Gamora will kick ass and do little else. (Saldana doesn't offer much new here. Are roles like this all her career is going to be?) The rest of the cast will fill in around the edges as it all leads up to a climactic battle with Ronan. There is energy and wit here. but they're in service of a story that feels very disconnected from the one Marvel has been telling. I appreciate that only Marvel could make this film. but Guardians should have been allowed to find its own way rather than be shoved into the studio's bigger plans.
Woody Allen's Magic in the Moonlight is an example of what the right actors can do to elevate a script that needed a polish. In 1928, Stanley (Colin Firth) enjoys a successful career as an illusionist under the name Wei Ling Soo. Stanley performs in an appropriately ridiculous costume, though his identity is somewhat of an open secret. (This movie isn't exactly The Prestige when it comes to plot twists.) After a performance as Wei Ling Soo, Stanley shows no hesitation about berating an assistant as he changes clothes in full view of everyone including his fellow illusionist Howard Burkan (Simon McBurney). Burkan asks Stanley to come to France in order to help unmask a young woman named Sophie (Emma Stone), whom he suspects of trying to swindle some wealthy Americans with her fake psychic abilities. Stanley is possessed of the cold realism about a life beyond our own that runs through Allen's work back to Crimes and Misdemeanors and probably farther. He agrees to help expose Sophie, and the game is on.
Magic in the Moonlight isn't ashamed of its late period qualities; there are familiar Allen tropes aplenty (Stanley's worldview, a fascination with magicians, period jazz) recycled in a new setting that at least offers some antique cars and pretty views of the South of France. There's a ball that Darius Khondji photographs like a painting and costumes that cold have been borrowed from a museum, but it's the performances of the two leads that finally makes the movie a pleasure. Colin Firth's natural fussiness is perfect for Stanley. Firth seems to know just how far to take his performance before the character begins to fall in love with Sophie and things go the other way. There is a moment when Stanley considers prayer as his beloved aunt (Eileen Atkins) lies in hospital. Just as we think we're about to witness a conversion, Stanley's true nature reasserts itself. It's a small piece of screen acting that's as fine as anything I've seen Firth do, and it helps ground a high-flown movie in something real. Emma Stone might be a little too modern to play a 1920's girl, and she's clearly smarter than the script means the character to be, but that's the point. Sophie is the future, here to drag Stanley into the next phase of his life, and Stone plays her with an effortless charm. I wish both Firth and Stone had been given better material to work with. 10 or 15 years ago Woody Allen would have made Magic in the Moonlight tighter and funnier, too much of the dialogue is redundant and the scene where Stanley realizes he's in love with Sophie is interminable. Yet the two leads play off each other well and overcome Allen's limitations. Magic in the Moonlight may be a case of Allen repeating himself, but there are enough warm and familiar notes here to make the effort worthwhile.