Hugo (2011)
Grade: A
DIRECTED BY MARTIN SCORCESE
Starring: Asa Butterfield, Ben Kingsley, Chloe Grace Moretz, Sacha Baron Cohen, Helen McCrory, Michael Stuhlbarg, Emily Mortimer, Christopher Lee, and Jude Law
PREMISE: An orphan in 1930s Paris works to fix a machine his late father was working on, only to find the completed invention may not only help him, but others as well.
RATED PG (contains scenes of peril, some emotional content, and brief scary images)
"Thank you for the movie today. It was a gift."
--That line, delivered about mid-way through Martin Scorcese's newest film, by Isabelle, a young French sweetheart played by a glowing Chloe Grace Moretz, just about summarizes how I felt about the experience of seeing the movie Hugo. Hugo is an accessible, emotionally-layered movie-about movies-which I saw in the newest fashion in movies (3D), that features likable characters, wondrous sights, and moments that will make you (as they did me) laugh, gasp, and nearly cry. It's also a sweetly-innocent film that stresses the importance of friendship, love, and chasing your dreams.
--Hugo Cabret (Asa Butterfield) is alone. He lives in the chambers inside the walls of the Gare Montparnasse railway station in Paris, winding and setting the station's many clocks, just as his drunken uncle (Ray Winstone) taught him. By winter 1930, that uncle has disappeared, leaving Hugo to fend for himself. Orphaned and relocated to the station after his clockmaker/inventor father (Jude Law, who is only in one scene) died in a fire, he spends the time he is not winding the clocks sneaking bites to eat from the different shops in the station, spying on people, and working on an automaton his father found in an alley outside a museum and was intent on fixing. The automaton-an effective human look-alike-is Hugo's only companion, and he is ever trying to find the right gears and screws to make the little engine inside it work. He gets his different pieces by swiping them from the shop of an old, weary toymaker (Ben Kingsley), all the while doing his best to avoid detection by the station's poisonous police inspector (Sacha Baron Cohen).
-After one theft attempt goes awry, Hugo meets Isabelle (Moretz), the old man's goddaughter, a perky, lively girl with a love for reading. They soon become good friends, and while she introduces Hugo to a bookkeeper (Christopher Lee) and his enormous shop, he introduces her to movies--appalled to find she's never seen one (Hugo's father raised him on movies), Hugo sneaks her into one at a nearby cinema. Their interest in movies subsequently takes off, and, while reading a book on movies at a nearby library one day, they realize Isabelle's Papa George is actually Georges Melies, the "father of special effects" and one of the most successful early filmmakers. He's become so sad and bitter because his movies were largely rejected after World War I, with accusations that they were childish and foolish. It isn't until Hugo and Isabelle find the key to fixing Hugo's automaton that they realize there might be a way to reinvigorate Georges after all.
-Yep, this movie was directed by Martin Scorcese, and yes, it's PG. And that's legit. There's no violence, no cussing, nothing to indicate this movie was made by the man behind gritty classic fare like Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, Goodfellas, Gangs of New York and The Departed. Nothing except a love of movies, that is. Critics have described this film as "the closest to [Scorcese's] heart" of all his films, and "a love letter to cinema", and it is, as you find when the film begins to venture into Melies' past, what with his discovery of movies and his delight in making them (seen in a number of vivid, exciting, beautifully-filmed scenes). Chunks of Melies' actual films appear (most prominent among them the 1902 A Trip to the Moon), as does the entirety of the Lumiere's brothers' 1895 classic Arrival of a Train at a Station.
-Fascinating. That's what it becomes. What is a genuinely touching, heartfelt story of friendship between two lonely orphans (Isabelle's parents died before she could remember them) transitions quickly into a history-and-appreciation-of-film story, a transition that is a little jarring and does take some getting used to. Viewers who don't know much about the history of movies may find some of the material a little difficult to understand, but for a big movie fan like me, it was paradise: you get glimpses of Melies' private studio, the sets and costumes of his old films brought to vividest color, the aforementioned actual clips of old films, the sense of genuine thrill of audiences watching their first movies (the likes of which they'd never seen), and peeks into the way early special effects were accomplished. There's also a beautiful scene where Melies, as a passionate younger man at the height of his movie-making prowess, encourages a boy even younger than Hugo to dream big.
--That's not to mention, the film that unfolds around this love-of-film core is pretty terrific as well, what with the beautifully-staged developing friendship between Hugo and Isabelle (though he's much more withdrawn, he's handy, while she's all energy and imagination), some edge-of-your-seat-tense sequences that turn out to be dreams, and a quietly graceful scene where the normally-malicious station inspector tries to start a charming conversation with the kind-faced lady who sells flowers (Emily Mortimer). A few other standout moments include Hugo and Isabelle's trip to the movies-Moretz' delighted reactions to the happenings onscreen are practically worth the price of admission on their own-and the scene where Hugo, Isabelle, and a film professor (Michael Stuhlbarg) sit down with Georges' wife (a wonderful Helen McCrory), a former actress, so she can watch A Trip to the Moon for the first time in many years.
--The acting is solid across the board, what with Butterfield and Moretz both flawlessly inhabiting young, lonely souls, and Kingsley bringing tremendous depth to both the embittered older Melies and his younger, more vibrant self; Stuhlbarg's part as a great admirer of Melies-and movies in general-is small but crucial, McCrory may give the film's best performance as the protective Mama Jeanne (as Isabelle calls her), and Cohen plays a hiss-worthy, yet human, antagonist.
--As I mentioned, the transition from kiddie friendship to Movie Worship movie startled me, and, despite the excellence of the material, it took me a while to warm up to it. That's not to fault the movie's making but to praise the kids--the heartfelt connection between Hugo and Isabelle puts to shame the connection presented by most movie couples today. Of course, these two twelve-year-olds are not that kind of couple, but their bond is very convincingly portrayed. The taciturn Butterfield seems a little outclassed, early on, by the delightful and spunky Moretz, but Hugo proves his value--other than the impulsive "movie date", he saves her from a few tight spots and even offers her reassurance when she reveals her deepest insecurity. Butterfield-who is all eyes in his pale face-also proves a very effective emoter.
--Hugo was also just the third film I've ever seen in 3-D, after 2007's Beowulf and last fall's Conan the Barbarian. A better movie by far than those two, I wouldn't say Hugo benefits too much from its added dimension (other than in a key scene or two), but I don't mind having paid the extra four dollars for the glasses.
So, do I recommend it?
Uh, yeah. Curiously, it's a PG-rated (and, therefore, family friendly) movie that will probably appeal more to adults than kids. Yes, there's action and humor and eye-popping spectacle, but the characters and emotion are what really makes this film soar.
Bottom line (I promise):
Go for it. Hugo is a rich, rewarding movie experience (and that "movie experience" part of that phrase means a heck of a lot more here than it does for almost any other movie).
Hugo (2011)
Directed by Martin Scorcese
Based on the Book "The Invention of Hugo Cabret" by Bryan Selznick
Written by John Logan
Rated PG (contains some emotional content and scary images)
Length: 126 minutes
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Saturday, January 28, 2012
THE GREY
The Grey (2012)
Grade: C-
Starring: Liam Neeson, Dallas Roberts, Frank Grillo, Dermot Mulroney, Nonso Anozie, and Joe Anderson
PREMISE: A grieving widower must take charge of the survivors of an oil rig crew after their plane crashes and try to lead them to safety through blizzards while a vicious pack of wolves traces their every move.
RATED R for blood and gore, violence, strong language (including some sexual references), and some disturbing images
--When the screen went black during a moment of high tension late in the highly-anticipated Liam Neeson vehicle The Grey, there was that usual hushed silence as everyone in the theatre tried to grasp the break in the action. What's gonna happen next? was probably the most common thought in the dozens of heads in the room, followed closely by it's not over, is it? Then the first credits came up, signaling that the movie was, in fact, over, and the sound of people exhaling filled the air. But a lot of those breaths were noises of disbelief (one even sounded a lot like an incredulous "what?"). Then, from the back of the theatre, came a loud, derisive laugh. Heartless as it may seem, I identified with the laugher, because he and I both realized what everyone else was trying to grasp: we'd been duped.
--The Grey is about a man who's name you can't understand (but it doesn't really matter since he's played by a star as magnetic as Neeson) who, well, you can't quite tell what he does for a living. As a matter of fact, you don't even know where he is at the beginning of the film, or why he's there. You do know that he pines for someone, a pretty lady (Anne Openshaw, who has no lines and less than a minute of total screen time in a few brief flashbacks), who is, well, you don't know--she must have a name, must have had a connection to Neeson, must have meant a lot to him, and must have either gone somewhere or died of something, but, again, you don't know and never find out. The movie's early moments are narrated by Neeson, but with his deep, accented voice, you can't even be sure you're understanding all the words.
--Sorry, but that's how I saw it. The Grey centers around Ottway, a man who shoots a wolf with an impressive rifle in the film's opening minutes, has probably done it before, might even be employed doing it, and regards the task with a kind of nobility. He's stationed at a land-based Alaskan oil rig, inhabited mostly by thugs and ex-cons who like to drink, brawl, smoke, and cuss. He writes long, mournful letters to someone only ever referred to as My Dearest One, and almost kills himself early on because of his burning desire to be with that same dearest one. Then he gets on a plane, probably headed for the Lower 48. The plane experiences turbulence and then crashes in Snowy Somewhere, the remote wilderness of either Alaska or Canada. About as soon as Ottway gets with the six other crash survivors (on a packed plane; the crew also died), they begin being menaced by wolves, wherein Ottway reveals his impressive knowledge of their territorial and pack tendencies, and the inner workings of their predators' brains. Knowing the crash sight, what with piles of dead bodies, splatters of blood, and burning fuel, is an obvious beacon as to the whereabouts of humans, the band of survivors flees to the nearest wooded area, where they keep fires, eat what they can, and get continually menaced by wolves. Soon enough, people start dying, which is only appropriate since Ottway's favorite saying, something he got from a poem his dear old departed dad wrote, is "Live or die on this day."
--That really is about it. The plane crash and the scenes of survivors gathering resources, building fires, and trying, briefly, to get to know one another, are involving enough that the hollow center of the film takes a while to emerge. But emerge it does, or, at least, it did to me. All this movie features are humans and wolves (give or take a few blizzards and some snow-covered trees). That's it. I understand they're supposed to be in remote nowhereville, but that's not a very promising thing to build a movie on--the protagonists have no destination, no plan, nothing. They find a tree stump with a tag, wherein Ottway decides loggers have worked in the area, and someone tries to encourage someone else by shouting "there could be a cabin right down there!". There could, sure, but, really, they're just walking. They find a river and decide, well, it's as good an idea as any to follow a river when you're out in the wild, so, well, why not follow it? Just don't ever fall behind, or fall down, or get into a vulnerable position, because you are so dead once that happens. Seriously, the wolves are lurking just offscreen the entire film.
--The wolves don't matter. It's scary because they can creep up and surprise you (as they do, to startling enough effect, more than once in this movie), and because they live in packs, and because they make a hell of a lot of unnerving noise at night and because they actually exist and do those things, but, really, they're just there; they could just as easily be terrorists, zombies, aliens, lions, bears, sharks, vampires, dinosaurs, diseases or flipping asteroids for all the difference it makes. This is a movie that stacks up a body count, and builds suspense doing it, just because. People we don't care about die quickly and people we're supposed to care about die almost as quickly, often after embarrasingly-obvious scenes of foreshadowing.
--This movie is not about the people, other than Neeson, obviously, but the actors do try. Their names aren't really important, but, in any case, they're essentially defined by short, clean-cut descriptive tidbits: The Really Talkative One, the Quietly Encouraging One, the One Who Loves His Daughter Back Home, The Black One (sorry, but that's how it goes), the Asshole-y One, and the One Played By Liam Neeson. Neeson-getting to speak with his natural Irish brogue after working hard to hide it in his two breakout hits, Taken and Unknown-is serviceable enough. He really does have a magnetic screen presence, and not just because he's a star, because he has an accent, or because he's a man of considerable stature. He's a good emoter who knows how to play intensity like he knows the back of his hand, he's perfectly-believable mixing it up with mouthy guys or even with wolves, and his noble features easily fold into themselves in sorrow and induce sympathy from us. The blandness of this film isn't Neeson's fault; he gives exactly the performance required, perhaps even a little more in a fear, grief, and rage-induced tirade late in the proceedings. This won't hurt Neeson's growing street cred as a graybeard ass-kicker at all.
--Besides Neeson, the only actor who really makes an impression is Frank Grillo, who plays the cocky, talkative asshole of the group. His part is a cliche-though, amazingly, in this die-humans-die flick, the asshole doesn't die first or even second-and he overacts chunks of it, but he rewards our patience with a few hearty laughs and a moving final scene.
--The film's production values are good, other than the shaky-cam style of filming important action that so often mars this sort of body-count flick (though I imagine it must be hard to film it any more substantially when the baddies your protagonists are fighting are 100% computer-generated). The scene of the plane crashing-seen from the inside, rather like in Tom Hanks' Cast Away-with people screaming and lights flashing and debris flying around, is thrilling and horrifying and well done. The snowy landscapes are all picture-esque. The yammering, growling and, of course, howling of the film's terrors-almost always while they're offscreen or out of sight-is skin-crawlingly effective. There's also a late scene where a character sits alone and his breathing begins to speed up as he, like we, hears the racket of approaching beings. And there is a certain poignancy to a late montage of all the characters we have met-who we can recognize-in pictures with people they love (wives, children, etc...).
--But, again, the real problem of the film is its pointlessness. And I've seen a lot of movies with pull-the-rug-out-from-under-the-viewers endings (The Wrestler, Buried, The Last King of Scotland, Warrior) lately, but in all those films, with the possible exception of Scotland, it really meant something. Not here. Here it seems like the filmmakers ran out of ideas. Like they knew the movie was getting long and the last expendable person (i.e. the last person who was not Neeson) was dead and the movie had to end somewhere, so, why not here, at the height of the action when the audience is amped? No wonder someone in my theatre laughed-at least they could smile about it. Most people were probably pissed that they got screwed out of the climactic fight.
So, do I recommend it?
Can't tell? I suppose it would make a decent rental, when you haven't paid a bunch of money and built up a bunch of anticipation to see it, but it's nothing you have to see. And The Grey is definitely not for kids. The gore isn't mind-boggingly horrible (except for one over-the-top scene where a guy mockingly cuts the head off a dead wolf), but there is a lot of blood. There is also, as I mentioned, a lot of profanity and some very sudden scares. (There is also a not-so-subtle theme of humanism, godlessness and nihilism that will offend some viewers and merely depress others; add that to the lack-of-happy-ending [lack of ending at all, actually] and it's a pretty poor statement the filmmakers are making)
Bottom Line (I promise):
Neeson, as ever, is solid, and there are some tense scenes and some mildly-involving group-bonding scenes, but the film goes nowhere, except to a big letdown.
The Grey (2012)
Directed by Joe Carnahan
Based on the short story "Ghost Walker" by Ian McKenzie Jeffers
Written by Joe Carnahan
Rated R for gore, bloody violence, strong language, and disturbing images
Length: 117 minutes
Grade: C-
Starring: Liam Neeson, Dallas Roberts, Frank Grillo, Dermot Mulroney, Nonso Anozie, and Joe Anderson
PREMISE: A grieving widower must take charge of the survivors of an oil rig crew after their plane crashes and try to lead them to safety through blizzards while a vicious pack of wolves traces their every move.
RATED R for blood and gore, violence, strong language (including some sexual references), and some disturbing images
--When the screen went black during a moment of high tension late in the highly-anticipated Liam Neeson vehicle The Grey, there was that usual hushed silence as everyone in the theatre tried to grasp the break in the action. What's gonna happen next? was probably the most common thought in the dozens of heads in the room, followed closely by it's not over, is it? Then the first credits came up, signaling that the movie was, in fact, over, and the sound of people exhaling filled the air. But a lot of those breaths were noises of disbelief (one even sounded a lot like an incredulous "what?"). Then, from the back of the theatre, came a loud, derisive laugh. Heartless as it may seem, I identified with the laugher, because he and I both realized what everyone else was trying to grasp: we'd been duped.
--The Grey is about a man who's name you can't understand (but it doesn't really matter since he's played by a star as magnetic as Neeson) who, well, you can't quite tell what he does for a living. As a matter of fact, you don't even know where he is at the beginning of the film, or why he's there. You do know that he pines for someone, a pretty lady (Anne Openshaw, who has no lines and less than a minute of total screen time in a few brief flashbacks), who is, well, you don't know--she must have a name, must have had a connection to Neeson, must have meant a lot to him, and must have either gone somewhere or died of something, but, again, you don't know and never find out. The movie's early moments are narrated by Neeson, but with his deep, accented voice, you can't even be sure you're understanding all the words.
--Sorry, but that's how I saw it. The Grey centers around Ottway, a man who shoots a wolf with an impressive rifle in the film's opening minutes, has probably done it before, might even be employed doing it, and regards the task with a kind of nobility. He's stationed at a land-based Alaskan oil rig, inhabited mostly by thugs and ex-cons who like to drink, brawl, smoke, and cuss. He writes long, mournful letters to someone only ever referred to as My Dearest One, and almost kills himself early on because of his burning desire to be with that same dearest one. Then he gets on a plane, probably headed for the Lower 48. The plane experiences turbulence and then crashes in Snowy Somewhere, the remote wilderness of either Alaska or Canada. About as soon as Ottway gets with the six other crash survivors (on a packed plane; the crew also died), they begin being menaced by wolves, wherein Ottway reveals his impressive knowledge of their territorial and pack tendencies, and the inner workings of their predators' brains. Knowing the crash sight, what with piles of dead bodies, splatters of blood, and burning fuel, is an obvious beacon as to the whereabouts of humans, the band of survivors flees to the nearest wooded area, where they keep fires, eat what they can, and get continually menaced by wolves. Soon enough, people start dying, which is only appropriate since Ottway's favorite saying, something he got from a poem his dear old departed dad wrote, is "Live or die on this day."
--That really is about it. The plane crash and the scenes of survivors gathering resources, building fires, and trying, briefly, to get to know one another, are involving enough that the hollow center of the film takes a while to emerge. But emerge it does, or, at least, it did to me. All this movie features are humans and wolves (give or take a few blizzards and some snow-covered trees). That's it. I understand they're supposed to be in remote nowhereville, but that's not a very promising thing to build a movie on--the protagonists have no destination, no plan, nothing. They find a tree stump with a tag, wherein Ottway decides loggers have worked in the area, and someone tries to encourage someone else by shouting "there could be a cabin right down there!". There could, sure, but, really, they're just walking. They find a river and decide, well, it's as good an idea as any to follow a river when you're out in the wild, so, well, why not follow it? Just don't ever fall behind, or fall down, or get into a vulnerable position, because you are so dead once that happens. Seriously, the wolves are lurking just offscreen the entire film.
--The wolves don't matter. It's scary because they can creep up and surprise you (as they do, to startling enough effect, more than once in this movie), and because they live in packs, and because they make a hell of a lot of unnerving noise at night and because they actually exist and do those things, but, really, they're just there; they could just as easily be terrorists, zombies, aliens, lions, bears, sharks, vampires, dinosaurs, diseases or flipping asteroids for all the difference it makes. This is a movie that stacks up a body count, and builds suspense doing it, just because. People we don't care about die quickly and people we're supposed to care about die almost as quickly, often after embarrasingly-obvious scenes of foreshadowing.
--This movie is not about the people, other than Neeson, obviously, but the actors do try. Their names aren't really important, but, in any case, they're essentially defined by short, clean-cut descriptive tidbits: The Really Talkative One, the Quietly Encouraging One, the One Who Loves His Daughter Back Home, The Black One (sorry, but that's how it goes), the Asshole-y One, and the One Played By Liam Neeson. Neeson-getting to speak with his natural Irish brogue after working hard to hide it in his two breakout hits, Taken and Unknown-is serviceable enough. He really does have a magnetic screen presence, and not just because he's a star, because he has an accent, or because he's a man of considerable stature. He's a good emoter who knows how to play intensity like he knows the back of his hand, he's perfectly-believable mixing it up with mouthy guys or even with wolves, and his noble features easily fold into themselves in sorrow and induce sympathy from us. The blandness of this film isn't Neeson's fault; he gives exactly the performance required, perhaps even a little more in a fear, grief, and rage-induced tirade late in the proceedings. This won't hurt Neeson's growing street cred as a graybeard ass-kicker at all.
--Besides Neeson, the only actor who really makes an impression is Frank Grillo, who plays the cocky, talkative asshole of the group. His part is a cliche-though, amazingly, in this die-humans-die flick, the asshole doesn't die first or even second-and he overacts chunks of it, but he rewards our patience with a few hearty laughs and a moving final scene.
--The film's production values are good, other than the shaky-cam style of filming important action that so often mars this sort of body-count flick (though I imagine it must be hard to film it any more substantially when the baddies your protagonists are fighting are 100% computer-generated). The scene of the plane crashing-seen from the inside, rather like in Tom Hanks' Cast Away-with people screaming and lights flashing and debris flying around, is thrilling and horrifying and well done. The snowy landscapes are all picture-esque. The yammering, growling and, of course, howling of the film's terrors-almost always while they're offscreen or out of sight-is skin-crawlingly effective. There's also a late scene where a character sits alone and his breathing begins to speed up as he, like we, hears the racket of approaching beings. And there is a certain poignancy to a late montage of all the characters we have met-who we can recognize-in pictures with people they love (wives, children, etc...).
--But, again, the real problem of the film is its pointlessness. And I've seen a lot of movies with pull-the-rug-out-from-under-the-viewers endings (The Wrestler, Buried, The Last King of Scotland, Warrior) lately, but in all those films, with the possible exception of Scotland, it really meant something. Not here. Here it seems like the filmmakers ran out of ideas. Like they knew the movie was getting long and the last expendable person (i.e. the last person who was not Neeson) was dead and the movie had to end somewhere, so, why not here, at the height of the action when the audience is amped? No wonder someone in my theatre laughed-at least they could smile about it. Most people were probably pissed that they got screwed out of the climactic fight.
So, do I recommend it?
Can't tell? I suppose it would make a decent rental, when you haven't paid a bunch of money and built up a bunch of anticipation to see it, but it's nothing you have to see. And The Grey is definitely not for kids. The gore isn't mind-boggingly horrible (except for one over-the-top scene where a guy mockingly cuts the head off a dead wolf), but there is a lot of blood. There is also, as I mentioned, a lot of profanity and some very sudden scares. (There is also a not-so-subtle theme of humanism, godlessness and nihilism that will offend some viewers and merely depress others; add that to the lack-of-happy-ending [lack of ending at all, actually] and it's a pretty poor statement the filmmakers are making)
Bottom Line (I promise):
Neeson, as ever, is solid, and there are some tense scenes and some mildly-involving group-bonding scenes, but the film goes nowhere, except to a big letdown.
The Grey (2012)
Directed by Joe Carnahan
Based on the short story "Ghost Walker" by Ian McKenzie Jeffers
Written by Joe Carnahan
Rated R for gore, bloody violence, strong language, and disturbing images
Length: 117 minutes
Friday, January 27, 2012
THE DESCENDANTS
The Descendants (2011)
Grade: B
Starring: George Clooney, Shailene Woodley, Amara Miller, Nick Krause, Matthew Lillard, Judy Greer, Beau Bridges, Robert Forster and Patricia Hastie
PREMISE: A workaholic must take control of his life-particularly the raising of his two daughters-after his wife is left in a coma by a terrible boating accident.
RATED R for strong language (including sexual references), and intense emotional content
-Even though I've written a lengthy review, I'm essentially reserving judgment on The Descendants, a new dramedy by Alexander Payne. I want to see it again, on DVD, by myself (or maybe with just one or two other people), now knowing what it's about and knowing the approach it takes, because my seeing it in theatres was irrevocably marred by the knowledge that it's up for Best Picture at the Oscars, and that it won Best Picture-Drama at the Golden Globes--and by the reaction to the film of the audience I saw it with, who were keen on the film's sometimes uneven tone and laughed loudly at even the slightest hint of humor. Given that it's billed as a heavyweight, awards-contending drama, I was expecting it to knock my socks off. Knowing the basic storyline-a man is forced to essentially win back the love of his daughters after his wife is left comatose by a boating accident-I expected something more emotional and heavyhanded. So, at every turn during The Descendants, I found myself going "this is the movie that won Best Drama? This is the movie that's up for Best Picture?"
--And then there's the fact that The Descendants is a Payne film, which means, like his best-known features, 2002's About Schmidt and 2004's Sideways, it's going to have a lot of dramatic content yet also frequent situational irony and quirky idiosyncracies that border on those of a screwball comedy. Which is exactly what the audience I saw it with-mostly elderly couples-focused on; like I said, they were quick to hoot with glee at every opportunity, even in a key late scene that, sure, bore some situational irony but also featured a character crying openly out of heartbreak in one of the film's most wrenching, honest moments. Take their laughter away (from that scene and others) and it's a different experience.
--I'm nitpicking, yes, but I walked away from The Descendants feeling underwhelmed, yet, in the immediate aftermath and in the day-and-a-half since I saw it, I've found it an awfully-hard film to think of in negative terms. Given some strong performances, a delightful musical score and some real artistic touches that complemented some late scenes, this is a complete movie, even if it's not quite the emotionally-frayed, heart-gouging drama I was expecting.
--Anyway, The Descendants centers around George Clooney's Matt King, a lawyer who's so studious and hard-working that he barely seems to notice-and doesn't take advantage of the fact -that he lives in Hawaii, with a beautiful, adventurous wife (Patricia Hastie, in a wordless role) and a pair of spirited daughters. All but alienated from his two girls-precocious, naughty 10-year-old Scottie (Amara Miller) and irascible, foul-mouthed 17-year-old Alexandra (Shailene Woodley)-and much more invested in the upcoming sale of a large chunk of land he's inherited in a trust passed down his family line for nearly two centuries, he's forced to become The Parent, The Central Figure, The Glue when his wife hits her head in a boating accident and is left comatose. As weeks pass with no improvement in his wife's condition-and the prospect of submitting to her living will's wish to not be left in a vegetative state looming-Matt is forced to step away from the trust deal and entertain, distract, and, eventually, come clean with, his girls.
--It's nothing particularly special. Matt has to admit that his wife was bored with him (he, himself, was considering a divorce down the road) and that his daughters aren't exactly parents' best friend types. With a pair of rather unreliable parent role models, Scottie has turned into a crude little prankster, and Alexandra, at an expensive private school, is a troublemaker with a penchant for partying who's also the sole keeper of at least one poisonous family secret. All the while thinking about the trust deal (and dogged by his cousins-largely personified by a folksy Beau Bridges-who want the millions the sale would undoubtedly fetch), Matt takes his daughters and Alexandra's unsophisticated shmo friend Sid (Nick Krause) to the beach and on a sightseeing tour, all while attempting to delay the inevitable.
--I don't know whether this film should be the one that gets George Clooney his long-awaited Best Actor Oscar (he was nominated twice before, in 2007 and 2009, for great performances, but had no chance either time, what with first Daniel Day-Lewis, then Jeff Bridges, shoo-ins in those years), but I'll say this: he's an effortlessly watchable actor. If this movie was a full-on screwball comedy, with ten laughs per minute, I believe Clooney would succeed and audiences would watch him, or, conversely, if it was a heart-shattering, soul-bearing domestic drama full of tears and angry fights, I believe he'd succeed and audiences would watch him. Just as, in my last review (of The Ides of March), I said he was perfect for the part of a would-be honorable, but secretly sleazy, politician, he's perfect for this role. He looks and acts just as we expect George Clooney to, yet he fits this part like a glove. Maybe it's because he can do so much with his eyes. Here, Clooney has a lot less dialogue than he could, but he expresses exactly what he needs to with his eyes and his face-under duress, the lines often seem to sink and deepen as they process bad or confusing news; the audience can readily guess what he's thinking, because they can see on his face exactly what they're feeling themselves. Clooney will never be mistaken for a chameleonic thespian, like a Day-Lewis or a Christian Bale, but he is turning into someone who can play anything, and make it look easy. I'm not ready to hand the Oscar to him on a silver platter, but I won't say he doesn't deserve it; he knows how to anchor a film.
--Being in nearly every scene, Clooney is the film's key, but he's ably-supported. Once Woodley's allowed to do more than just be the angry, self-centered teenager, she proves charming and plucky and gives us real glimpses into her character's soul. She's even a perfect wingman, as evidenced in a late, key confrontation between Matt and a man (Matthew Lillard) his wife may have been planning to run away with before the accident. As little Scottie, Amara Miller toes the line between cute and obnoxious with difficulty, but it isn't primarily her fault, as the writers seem eager to capitalize on the obnoxious, bratty, knows-more-than-she-should kiddie.
--Elsewhere, Krause proves lightly amusing and even surprisingly deep on occasion as Woodley's surfer-dude sidekick, Judy Greer and Robert Forster do a lot with emotionally-important roles played out in limited screen time, and Lillard is solid in a short, difficult part.
--Like I said, Descendants isn't an easy film to dislike. Appropriately for a film set entirely on the Hawaiian Islands, it's got some gorgeous pictures and an endearing, plucky folk score that never distracts from what's on-screen, usually enhances it. And, while I felt a few scenes would have benefitted from more dialogue, a number of key emotional scenes late are pulled off memorably with almost no dialogue; the images onscreen, and what we've learned about the characters and their situation, are enough. In these it's the subtlety that wins big points, but, again that same subtlety detracts from a number of other scenes, and occasionally giving the film an uneven feel. It's clearly not Payne's style to give his audience an uncomplicated tearjerker (or uncomplicated gut-buster), but several dramatic moments don't register with the punch they could have if their fellow scenes weren't so tongue-in-cheek.
So, do I recommend it?
The Descendants is a good, harmless film, one that will satisfy moviegoers who a) don't care about movies as much as I do, and will thus laugh at the humor and cry at the emotion and accept the experience without question, or b) were just wanting to watch something with George Clooney in it. There is a lot of profanity, including a fair amount from both girls, but it's nothing ridiculously offensive (unless Woodley's dissing of a friend/rival of Scottie's as a "f***ed up hoe-bag" is too much for you). Basically, I was just waiting for a moment that me me go "Oh, okay, so that's why this is up for a bunch of Oscars." I never had that moment. But that isn't the film's fault; it's just a film that critics and circles of voters decided to like.
Bottom Line (I promise):
Clooney's great in one of his better performances, but I just can't stop wondering what could have been. That said, there are enough smiles, laughs, tears and watchable scenes that this film, perhaps not a straight-shooting drama, should nonetheless win fans and admirers handily.
The Descendants (2011)
Directed by Alexander Payne
Based on the novel by Kaui Hart Hemmings
Written by Alexander Payne, Jim Rash, and Nat Faxon
Rated R for for strong language, sexual references, and intense emotional content
Length: 115 minutes
Grade: B
Starring: George Clooney, Shailene Woodley, Amara Miller, Nick Krause, Matthew Lillard, Judy Greer, Beau Bridges, Robert Forster and Patricia Hastie
PREMISE: A workaholic must take control of his life-particularly the raising of his two daughters-after his wife is left in a coma by a terrible boating accident.
RATED R for strong language (including sexual references), and intense emotional content
-Even though I've written a lengthy review, I'm essentially reserving judgment on The Descendants, a new dramedy by Alexander Payne. I want to see it again, on DVD, by myself (or maybe with just one or two other people), now knowing what it's about and knowing the approach it takes, because my seeing it in theatres was irrevocably marred by the knowledge that it's up for Best Picture at the Oscars, and that it won Best Picture-Drama at the Golden Globes--and by the reaction to the film of the audience I saw it with, who were keen on the film's sometimes uneven tone and laughed loudly at even the slightest hint of humor. Given that it's billed as a heavyweight, awards-contending drama, I was expecting it to knock my socks off. Knowing the basic storyline-a man is forced to essentially win back the love of his daughters after his wife is left comatose by a boating accident-I expected something more emotional and heavyhanded. So, at every turn during The Descendants, I found myself going "this is the movie that won Best Drama? This is the movie that's up for Best Picture?"
--And then there's the fact that The Descendants is a Payne film, which means, like his best-known features, 2002's About Schmidt and 2004's Sideways, it's going to have a lot of dramatic content yet also frequent situational irony and quirky idiosyncracies that border on those of a screwball comedy. Which is exactly what the audience I saw it with-mostly elderly couples-focused on; like I said, they were quick to hoot with glee at every opportunity, even in a key late scene that, sure, bore some situational irony but also featured a character crying openly out of heartbreak in one of the film's most wrenching, honest moments. Take their laughter away (from that scene and others) and it's a different experience.
--I'm nitpicking, yes, but I walked away from The Descendants feeling underwhelmed, yet, in the immediate aftermath and in the day-and-a-half since I saw it, I've found it an awfully-hard film to think of in negative terms. Given some strong performances, a delightful musical score and some real artistic touches that complemented some late scenes, this is a complete movie, even if it's not quite the emotionally-frayed, heart-gouging drama I was expecting.
--Anyway, The Descendants centers around George Clooney's Matt King, a lawyer who's so studious and hard-working that he barely seems to notice-and doesn't take advantage of the fact -that he lives in Hawaii, with a beautiful, adventurous wife (Patricia Hastie, in a wordless role) and a pair of spirited daughters. All but alienated from his two girls-precocious, naughty 10-year-old Scottie (Amara Miller) and irascible, foul-mouthed 17-year-old Alexandra (Shailene Woodley)-and much more invested in the upcoming sale of a large chunk of land he's inherited in a trust passed down his family line for nearly two centuries, he's forced to become The Parent, The Central Figure, The Glue when his wife hits her head in a boating accident and is left comatose. As weeks pass with no improvement in his wife's condition-and the prospect of submitting to her living will's wish to not be left in a vegetative state looming-Matt is forced to step away from the trust deal and entertain, distract, and, eventually, come clean with, his girls.
--It's nothing particularly special. Matt has to admit that his wife was bored with him (he, himself, was considering a divorce down the road) and that his daughters aren't exactly parents' best friend types. With a pair of rather unreliable parent role models, Scottie has turned into a crude little prankster, and Alexandra, at an expensive private school, is a troublemaker with a penchant for partying who's also the sole keeper of at least one poisonous family secret. All the while thinking about the trust deal (and dogged by his cousins-largely personified by a folksy Beau Bridges-who want the millions the sale would undoubtedly fetch), Matt takes his daughters and Alexandra's unsophisticated shmo friend Sid (Nick Krause) to the beach and on a sightseeing tour, all while attempting to delay the inevitable.
--I don't know whether this film should be the one that gets George Clooney his long-awaited Best Actor Oscar (he was nominated twice before, in 2007 and 2009, for great performances, but had no chance either time, what with first Daniel Day-Lewis, then Jeff Bridges, shoo-ins in those years), but I'll say this: he's an effortlessly watchable actor. If this movie was a full-on screwball comedy, with ten laughs per minute, I believe Clooney would succeed and audiences would watch him, or, conversely, if it was a heart-shattering, soul-bearing domestic drama full of tears and angry fights, I believe he'd succeed and audiences would watch him. Just as, in my last review (of The Ides of March), I said he was perfect for the part of a would-be honorable, but secretly sleazy, politician, he's perfect for this role. He looks and acts just as we expect George Clooney to, yet he fits this part like a glove. Maybe it's because he can do so much with his eyes. Here, Clooney has a lot less dialogue than he could, but he expresses exactly what he needs to with his eyes and his face-under duress, the lines often seem to sink and deepen as they process bad or confusing news; the audience can readily guess what he's thinking, because they can see on his face exactly what they're feeling themselves. Clooney will never be mistaken for a chameleonic thespian, like a Day-Lewis or a Christian Bale, but he is turning into someone who can play anything, and make it look easy. I'm not ready to hand the Oscar to him on a silver platter, but I won't say he doesn't deserve it; he knows how to anchor a film.
--Being in nearly every scene, Clooney is the film's key, but he's ably-supported. Once Woodley's allowed to do more than just be the angry, self-centered teenager, she proves charming and plucky and gives us real glimpses into her character's soul. She's even a perfect wingman, as evidenced in a late, key confrontation between Matt and a man (Matthew Lillard) his wife may have been planning to run away with before the accident. As little Scottie, Amara Miller toes the line between cute and obnoxious with difficulty, but it isn't primarily her fault, as the writers seem eager to capitalize on the obnoxious, bratty, knows-more-than-she-should kiddie.
--Elsewhere, Krause proves lightly amusing and even surprisingly deep on occasion as Woodley's surfer-dude sidekick, Judy Greer and Robert Forster do a lot with emotionally-important roles played out in limited screen time, and Lillard is solid in a short, difficult part.
--Like I said, Descendants isn't an easy film to dislike. Appropriately for a film set entirely on the Hawaiian Islands, it's got some gorgeous pictures and an endearing, plucky folk score that never distracts from what's on-screen, usually enhances it. And, while I felt a few scenes would have benefitted from more dialogue, a number of key emotional scenes late are pulled off memorably with almost no dialogue; the images onscreen, and what we've learned about the characters and their situation, are enough. In these it's the subtlety that wins big points, but, again that same subtlety detracts from a number of other scenes, and occasionally giving the film an uneven feel. It's clearly not Payne's style to give his audience an uncomplicated tearjerker (or uncomplicated gut-buster), but several dramatic moments don't register with the punch they could have if their fellow scenes weren't so tongue-in-cheek.
So, do I recommend it?
The Descendants is a good, harmless film, one that will satisfy moviegoers who a) don't care about movies as much as I do, and will thus laugh at the humor and cry at the emotion and accept the experience without question, or b) were just wanting to watch something with George Clooney in it. There is a lot of profanity, including a fair amount from both girls, but it's nothing ridiculously offensive (unless Woodley's dissing of a friend/rival of Scottie's as a "f***ed up hoe-bag" is too much for you). Basically, I was just waiting for a moment that me me go "Oh, okay, so that's why this is up for a bunch of Oscars." I never had that moment. But that isn't the film's fault; it's just a film that critics and circles of voters decided to like.
Bottom Line (I promise):
Clooney's great in one of his better performances, but I just can't stop wondering what could have been. That said, there are enough smiles, laughs, tears and watchable scenes that this film, perhaps not a straight-shooting drama, should nonetheless win fans and admirers handily.
The Descendants (2011)
Directed by Alexander Payne
Based on the novel by Kaui Hart Hemmings
Written by Alexander Payne, Jim Rash, and Nat Faxon
Rated R for for strong language, sexual references, and intense emotional content
Length: 115 minutes
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
THE IDES OF MARCH
The Ides of March (2011)
Grade: B
Directed by George Clooney
Starring: Ryan Gosling, George Clooney, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Evan Rachel Wood, Paul Giammatti, Jeffrey Wright, and Marisa Tomei
PREMISE: An idealistic campaign worker becomes involved in a tangled web of conspiracy and threats just as the presidential candidate he works for is on the verge of winning a key primary.
RATED R for strong language (including sexual references) and brief sexuality--WOO-WEE!!! I would watch this movie right now. Here we are, in the height of election season, with the Republican Presidential Candidate race essentially down to Messrs Romney and Gingrich, and I watch The Ides of March, which is, to put it plainly, everyone's worst nightmare assumption of what work in politics is really like. Written and directed by George Clooney, adapted from the play "Farragut North", by Beau Willmon, one of Clooney's fellow credited screenwriters, Ides is a taut, crackling tale of lost innocence and cutthroat competition that can stun the meeker folks among us into silence.
--Stephen Myers (the always-reliable Ryan Gosling) is the creme de le creme of campaign workers. Thirty years old, good-looking, well-informed, witty, and as good in front of cameras as he is behind them, Stephen has foes and allies alike drooling over his ability. The lucky man receiving the fruits of Stephen's earnest hard labor is Governor Mike Morris of Pennsylvania (Clooney), a happily-married, smooth-talking Democrat seeking to win the party's crucial primary in Ohio. He knows, as does his competition, Arkansas Senator Ted Pullman (Michael Mantell), that as goes Ohio, so goes the nation, and Ohio most likely goes as does Senator Thompson (Jeffrey Wright). So, while the two candidates give speeches and make important appearances at colleges and community centers and town halls, Stephen, and Morris' campaign manager (Philip Seymour Hoffman), work furiously to outwit and outwager their adversary (Paul Giamatti), Pullman's campaign manager, in order to gain the support of Thompson and the 356 delegates he controls.
--You have to squirm, watching this movie, what with the current state of affairs in our world. Yes, we get the usual-things we're used to seeing-clips of the candidates giving speeches, trading jabs during debates, working their way through Q&A sessions, and, in Clooney's Morris' case, talking with the top men in his campaign, planning to rewrite his prewritten speeches in his own words, and being kindly but frankly told by his wife, Cindy (Jennifer Ehle) that he ought to do whatever it takes to win. Nothing we haven't seen in movies before. But then we get Giamatti's Tom Duffy inviting Stephen out for drinks, claiming he has some information Stephen must know, and a give-me-the-scoop-I-want-or-your-campaign's-over ultimatums from a sharp-tongued columnist (Marisa Tomei). It's all the frank, dog-eat-dog honesty the idealists among us (like Stephen) want to believe aren't actually happening, and it's unsettling, as Stephen himself finds. Even more unsettling is the moment when Stephen, who's been sleeping with a 20-year-old campaign intern (Evan Rachel Wood), answers her phone by accident in the dead of night only to find that it's his candidate, Governor Morris, calling.
--It's all very effective, accomplished with white-knuckle verve and a scathing cynicism that is, in all fairness, probably closer to the truth than the idealism Stephen tries to cling to once things start going downhill. The entire movie covers only a few days leading up to the Ohio primary, but it travels a long way, and a lot of sweet-natured notions are shattered in that time.
--I watched it all with bright interest, laughing at the jokes and what I saw as the writers' tongue-in-cheek nods to modern politics in all its craziness, yet I also vowed that I would read up on my candidates before voting in next year's election. Every candidate gets their dirty laundry aired this time of year, and some viewers might be inclined to scoff at the revelation about Clooney's character-that it's nothing new, that everyone does it-but it'll be gut-wrenching for others. And, as seen through the eyes of Stephen, whose ascendent, perfect world starts falling down around his ears with startling rapidity, the whole thing is truly shocking.
--Gosling is rock-solid at the center of this movie, conveying as much with his eyes and expressions as he ever does with dialogue. He can hardly be called the hero (is a 30-year-old's sleeping with a 20-year-old intern, with no-strings-attached, of course, really a way to win our sympathies?), yet he doesn't ever fly off the handle, as we eventually feel he'd be justified in doing. The character is too clearly and realistically-etched for that, yet Gosling shows us, just with his eyes, that he has certainly given it a thought. It's something of a surprise to see Gosling, who recently won a lot of acclaim as a cool-as-a-cucumber womanizer in this summer's Crazy Stupid Love, as a straight man in the film's early going, but he wins our sympathies enough for us to see him as the good guy when things start getting ugly.
--As the would-be honorable politician who nonetheless earns our unabashed spite in later scenes, George Clooney is pitch-perfect. With the perfect hair, the gleaming eyes, the easygoing, lightly-sarcastic line delivery and that ever-present half-smile that has made him such a big deal in romantic roles over the years, Clooney looks like a politician. He even acts like one. Early on, he seems like a real, earnest, idealist candidate, but, of course, contemporary politics are too corrupt for that, and he shows us why.
--The rest of the cast is strong, as well. Hoffman doesn't ever fly off the handle, either, which is something of a surprise, given his often-volatile screen presence (see Charlie Wilson's War, with Tom Hanks and Julia Roberts for more details), but he brings his usual intensity and his hiss-worthy motives enough for us to doubt that we should trust him, even when, early on, he's Stephen's biggest ally. Forget the "ally" and "trusting" part, and the same goes for Paul Giamatti, who only has a few short scenes but soon has us, like Gosling, screaming for his head. Marisa Tomei has a somewhat thankless role as the scummy journalist (yay, journalists!), but a big hand is due for Evan Rachel Wood. Wood was once seen as something like the next big thing (she won all kinds of acclaim for her role in Thirteen, when she was just 16). She's slipped a little bit since--possibly because of her extended relationship with cross-gendered, zombie singer Marilyn Manson--but she's tremendous here, earning, in time, both our spite and our hearts, as a confused girl who, as Clooney later aptly says, is "a girl trying to live in a very grown-up world".
--Ides is well paced, with few scenes lasting longer than a few minutes and the same scene often picking up pieces of multiple conversations for our benefit. Others, especially late in the film, once Stephen realizes what he's becoming-part of the snake pit he was trying to stay above-speak volumes with just facial expressions, or with just the film's terrific, pulse-pounding score. Shadows and darkness are often important for effect, and the multiple scenes of cheering, sign-waving crowds (especially of patriotic but naive youths) are all too real, chilling in a movie that reaches serious depths.
So, do I recommend it?
I bet there'd be a lot of interest in this movie, considering its relevance, although that same relevance is what will get some people to watch it just for a derisive laugh or sense of affirmation, and others won't want to watch it because they "don't want to think about that kind of stuff". But for a movie that's barely an hour-and-a-half--a thriller without violence and with just a hint of romance--it nonetheless keeps you rooted to your seat. There is a fair amount of profanity, but it's not exceptionally abrasive, and there's just a hint of nudity in one scene, but it passes quickly. If you're really into politics, by all means...
Bottom Line (I promise):
Cynical but effective, fake but very real, quickly-paced, well-acted, and jaw-dropping in its dog-eat-dog mentality, this is a very intriguing piece. Man, just 10 years ago, no one would ever have thought George Clooney was any kind of artistic genius. Now...
The Ides of March (2011)
Directed by George Clooney
Based on the play "Farragut North" by Beau Willmon
Written by George Clooney, Beau Willmon and Grant Heslov
Rated R for strong language and some sexuality
Length: 101 minutes
Grade: B
Directed by George Clooney
Starring: Ryan Gosling, George Clooney, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Evan Rachel Wood, Paul Giammatti, Jeffrey Wright, and Marisa Tomei
PREMISE: An idealistic campaign worker becomes involved in a tangled web of conspiracy and threats just as the presidential candidate he works for is on the verge of winning a key primary.
RATED R for strong language (including sexual references) and brief sexuality--WOO-WEE!!! I would watch this movie right now. Here we are, in the height of election season, with the Republican Presidential Candidate race essentially down to Messrs Romney and Gingrich, and I watch The Ides of March, which is, to put it plainly, everyone's worst nightmare assumption of what work in politics is really like. Written and directed by George Clooney, adapted from the play "Farragut North", by Beau Willmon, one of Clooney's fellow credited screenwriters, Ides is a taut, crackling tale of lost innocence and cutthroat competition that can stun the meeker folks among us into silence.
--Stephen Myers (the always-reliable Ryan Gosling) is the creme de le creme of campaign workers. Thirty years old, good-looking, well-informed, witty, and as good in front of cameras as he is behind them, Stephen has foes and allies alike drooling over his ability. The lucky man receiving the fruits of Stephen's earnest hard labor is Governor Mike Morris of Pennsylvania (Clooney), a happily-married, smooth-talking Democrat seeking to win the party's crucial primary in Ohio. He knows, as does his competition, Arkansas Senator Ted Pullman (Michael Mantell), that as goes Ohio, so goes the nation, and Ohio most likely goes as does Senator Thompson (Jeffrey Wright). So, while the two candidates give speeches and make important appearances at colleges and community centers and town halls, Stephen, and Morris' campaign manager (Philip Seymour Hoffman), work furiously to outwit and outwager their adversary (Paul Giamatti), Pullman's campaign manager, in order to gain the support of Thompson and the 356 delegates he controls.
--You have to squirm, watching this movie, what with the current state of affairs in our world. Yes, we get the usual-things we're used to seeing-clips of the candidates giving speeches, trading jabs during debates, working their way through Q&A sessions, and, in Clooney's Morris' case, talking with the top men in his campaign, planning to rewrite his prewritten speeches in his own words, and being kindly but frankly told by his wife, Cindy (Jennifer Ehle) that he ought to do whatever it takes to win. Nothing we haven't seen in movies before. But then we get Giamatti's Tom Duffy inviting Stephen out for drinks, claiming he has some information Stephen must know, and a give-me-the-scoop-I-want-or-your-campaign's-over ultimatums from a sharp-tongued columnist (Marisa Tomei). It's all the frank, dog-eat-dog honesty the idealists among us (like Stephen) want to believe aren't actually happening, and it's unsettling, as Stephen himself finds. Even more unsettling is the moment when Stephen, who's been sleeping with a 20-year-old campaign intern (Evan Rachel Wood), answers her phone by accident in the dead of night only to find that it's his candidate, Governor Morris, calling.
--It's all very effective, accomplished with white-knuckle verve and a scathing cynicism that is, in all fairness, probably closer to the truth than the idealism Stephen tries to cling to once things start going downhill. The entire movie covers only a few days leading up to the Ohio primary, but it travels a long way, and a lot of sweet-natured notions are shattered in that time.
--I watched it all with bright interest, laughing at the jokes and what I saw as the writers' tongue-in-cheek nods to modern politics in all its craziness, yet I also vowed that I would read up on my candidates before voting in next year's election. Every candidate gets their dirty laundry aired this time of year, and some viewers might be inclined to scoff at the revelation about Clooney's character-that it's nothing new, that everyone does it-but it'll be gut-wrenching for others. And, as seen through the eyes of Stephen, whose ascendent, perfect world starts falling down around his ears with startling rapidity, the whole thing is truly shocking.
--Gosling is rock-solid at the center of this movie, conveying as much with his eyes and expressions as he ever does with dialogue. He can hardly be called the hero (is a 30-year-old's sleeping with a 20-year-old intern, with no-strings-attached, of course, really a way to win our sympathies?), yet he doesn't ever fly off the handle, as we eventually feel he'd be justified in doing. The character is too clearly and realistically-etched for that, yet Gosling shows us, just with his eyes, that he has certainly given it a thought. It's something of a surprise to see Gosling, who recently won a lot of acclaim as a cool-as-a-cucumber womanizer in this summer's Crazy Stupid Love, as a straight man in the film's early going, but he wins our sympathies enough for us to see him as the good guy when things start getting ugly.
--As the would-be honorable politician who nonetheless earns our unabashed spite in later scenes, George Clooney is pitch-perfect. With the perfect hair, the gleaming eyes, the easygoing, lightly-sarcastic line delivery and that ever-present half-smile that has made him such a big deal in romantic roles over the years, Clooney looks like a politician. He even acts like one. Early on, he seems like a real, earnest, idealist candidate, but, of course, contemporary politics are too corrupt for that, and he shows us why.
--The rest of the cast is strong, as well. Hoffman doesn't ever fly off the handle, either, which is something of a surprise, given his often-volatile screen presence (see Charlie Wilson's War, with Tom Hanks and Julia Roberts for more details), but he brings his usual intensity and his hiss-worthy motives enough for us to doubt that we should trust him, even when, early on, he's Stephen's biggest ally. Forget the "ally" and "trusting" part, and the same goes for Paul Giamatti, who only has a few short scenes but soon has us, like Gosling, screaming for his head. Marisa Tomei has a somewhat thankless role as the scummy journalist (yay, journalists!), but a big hand is due for Evan Rachel Wood. Wood was once seen as something like the next big thing (she won all kinds of acclaim for her role in Thirteen, when she was just 16). She's slipped a little bit since--possibly because of her extended relationship with cross-gendered, zombie singer Marilyn Manson--but she's tremendous here, earning, in time, both our spite and our hearts, as a confused girl who, as Clooney later aptly says, is "a girl trying to live in a very grown-up world".
--Ides is well paced, with few scenes lasting longer than a few minutes and the same scene often picking up pieces of multiple conversations for our benefit. Others, especially late in the film, once Stephen realizes what he's becoming-part of the snake pit he was trying to stay above-speak volumes with just facial expressions, or with just the film's terrific, pulse-pounding score. Shadows and darkness are often important for effect, and the multiple scenes of cheering, sign-waving crowds (especially of patriotic but naive youths) are all too real, chilling in a movie that reaches serious depths.
So, do I recommend it?
I bet there'd be a lot of interest in this movie, considering its relevance, although that same relevance is what will get some people to watch it just for a derisive laugh or sense of affirmation, and others won't want to watch it because they "don't want to think about that kind of stuff". But for a movie that's barely an hour-and-a-half--a thriller without violence and with just a hint of romance--it nonetheless keeps you rooted to your seat. There is a fair amount of profanity, but it's not exceptionally abrasive, and there's just a hint of nudity in one scene, but it passes quickly. If you're really into politics, by all means...
Bottom Line (I promise):
Cynical but effective, fake but very real, quickly-paced, well-acted, and jaw-dropping in its dog-eat-dog mentality, this is a very intriguing piece. Man, just 10 years ago, no one would ever have thought George Clooney was any kind of artistic genius. Now...
The Ides of March (2011)
Directed by George Clooney
Based on the play "Farragut North" by Beau Willmon
Written by George Clooney, Beau Willmon and Grant Heslov
Rated R for strong language and some sexuality
Length: 101 minutes
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
THE HELP
The Help (2011)
Grade: A
Starring: Emma Stone, Viola Davis, Bryce Dallas Howard, Octavia Spencer, Allison Janney, Jessica Chastain, Ahna O'Reilly and Sissy Spacek
PREMISE: A free-thinking young white woman in the Deep South decides to learn more about her black maids and neighbors in order to write a book that will impress a big city editor.
RATED PG-13 for intense emotional content related to segregation
--Beautiful and full. If I had to pick two words to describe The Help, Tate Taylor's popular adaptation of Kathryn Stockett's bestseller about a young white woman's attempt to get her ignorant, racist peers to see their black maids, nannies, and neighbors for who they really are, it would be those two--beautiful and full. This movie has generated strong word of mouth and impressive box-office clout for a straight drama full of women, and I can see why. Between its sprawling, exceptional cast, and moments both light, funny, and emotional that keep you rooted in your seat, this movie is a treasure.
--That young white woman is Eugenia "Skeeter" Phelan (a radiant Emma Stone), who hails from snooty, segregated Jackson, Mississippi, but has a head full of new ideas and perspectives after four years at Ole Miss. She sets herself apart from her peers-most of them uptight, boy-crazy, responsibility-shunning princesses like Elizabeth Leefolt (Anna O'Reilly), by daring to think for herself, to apply for a job, to pursue a career (as a writer), and to understand that she was, in fact, raised-and loved-by a black woman, her nanny Constantine (Cicely Tyson, seen only in flashbacks). Seeking her big break, Skeeter manages to win the attention of a big-time New York editor (Mary Steenburgen) by promising to write a book about Southern culture-particularly the edgy, tension-fraught interaction between whites and blacks-from the blacks' point of view. Having nothing but fond memories of her own nanny, Skeeter decides to target nannies and housekeepers, considering their frequent, intimate interaction with whites.
--In the meantime able to get a job writing a housekeeping column for the Jackson Journal, Skeeter asks for assistance from Aibileen Clark (Viola Davis, finally getting the leading role she's deserved), who has spent her entire life as a nanny and now almost single-handedly raises Elizabeth Leefolt's toddler and first child. At first scared and reluctant to participate, lest it bring trouble down on herself (the mildest of which trouble would be vandalism), Aibileen begins to assist Skeeter with not just the column, but a book of blacks' stories about whites, from the blacks' point of view, after she sees-again and again-the degradation and humiliation of her peers in the black community. Soon, getting stories isn't the problem for Skeeter--keeping the project hidden, especially from her critical, proper mother (Allison Janney) and her childhood friend and local Queen Bee diva Hilly (a terrific Bryce Dallas Howard), is the real issue, one that could endanger lives if it's found out.
--Honestly, I've barely shared half the movie's subplots, but they are well-tended to (very well-tended to; almost no single moment in this movie is wasted) by Taylor, who should be applauded for giving today's attention-deficit audiences a full (there's that word, again) movie, even at two and a quarter hours. The movie drags just a little bit at the end, but nearly all that time is necessary to put flesh and bone on each of its many characters.
--And what characters they are. Indeed, the characters are all so well-developed and well-played that I don't know how the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences chose just three for its acting categories when it announced the Oscar nominees this morning.
--Nomination one was Viola Davis for Best Actress, who was previously nominated for a small role in the tense drama Doubt, but, here, gets much more screen time and uses it to her, and our, benefit. Playing an older, wiser woman who "knows her place", Davis doesn't quite get the lively crackling role some of her co-stars do, but she holds the screen with dignity, honesty, and, when necessary, heartbreaking emotion.
--Having now seen the movie, I don't know that I'd even call Aibileen the film's "main character", as I'm quite certain Emma Stone and Bryce Dallas Howard get at least as much, if not more, screen time. Both are excellent. Stone is the audience's anchor, someone to hold onto and sympathize with after a few, very frank, early moments of whites disregarding and even openly insulting blacks. Blunt, convincingly emotional and, when need be, effortlessly charming, Stone shows she's the real deal. And she needs to be when often sharing the screen with Howard, who, in her best role since her breakthrough in M. Night Shyamalan's The Village, comes out firing on all cylinders as the steely, trash-talking Hilly, a social white rights activist. The closest thing The Help has to a villain, Howard chills the blood with just flicks of her eyes, let alone her acerbic and coolly confident line readings. What with the way she dominates a room, the way she's the center of everything, and her you're-in-with-me-or-you're-out personality, she got me trying to picture a young Hillary Clinton. I don't know how the Academy, and other voting bodies, overlooked Howard, but hers, to me, is one of the performance you'll really remember.
--The two Best Supporting Actress nominees are Octavia Spencer, as Aibileen's cynical, wise-cracking friend Minny, and Jessica Chastain as Minny's eventual employer, a cloying, ditsy, white trash outsider who seems to take whatever life gives her but really just wants to fit in. Both actresses give effective performances; in fact, Chastain is so good I wished she had more screen time; she doesn't really appear until about an hour into the film, and her scenes are short and spaced out, but her infectious optimism works magic in what is often a nervewracking, emotional film.
--Even the Supporting Actresses' supporting actors warrant mention, as Allison Janney, Sissy Spacek, Tyson and Mike Vogel each make memorable impressions, Vogel in just one short scene.
--With a pack of such attractive women, this movie can't help but be beautifully-shot, and it is, with lots of sunny days, lavishly-decorated '60s room sets and costumes, and a few meaningful scenic locales. The writing is wonderfully-effective, giving Davis her soft-spoken wisdom, Stone her snappy defensiveness, Howard her tinkling and/or raging bravado, Spencer her "mmm hmm" earthiness, and Chastain her sun-shining tidbits; very little in this movie feels forced, and you feel the punch of the most important scenes, be it Minny's acceptance by Chastain's classically-white-collar husband (Vogel), a central prank pulled on Howard's Hilly by Minny, or the scene where Skeeter, alone and unexpected, emerges into a roomful of mistreated, weary black women who have just had a friend harmed by their white neighbors.
--Okay, so I've gone on and on. As serious as a movie as it can be-and after a few early scenes of Hilly's blunt mistreatment of Aibileen and others, you start to fear for upcoming edgy content-it is also funny, has effective hints of romance and has enough subplots that you'd like to dive into even more. Like I said, it dragged a little at the end, but about an hour and 45 minutes effortlessly flew by. It vindicated its Academy Award nominations (other than the acting nods for Davis, Spencer and Chastain, it's also in the running for Best Picture), and it left me feeling bright and hopeful.
So, do I recommend it? I can't lie: the average husband/boyfriend coerced into watching this by one or more needy females may find his attention lagging (or thoroughly gone) by the largely female-dominated proceedings and period details, but I'd recommend this without hesitation for anyone who likes a good story, good acting, or is open to good things in films (oh, and to just about all women). I knew almost nothing about The Help-other than the fact that it got nominated for four Oscars (still can't believe Howard was overlooked) before I turned it on, and it made me a believer. And, as I've mentioned, some of the racial content can be iffy for children--not that I think the talky proceedings here would interest most children--but there's not a hint of sex or nudity and very little swearing (except for a memorable anecdote in one of the crucial scenes).
Bottom Line (I promise): A great cast and good writing, in an effective story, proves a terrific combination in a thought-provoking and likable film.
The Help (2011)
Directed by Tate Taylor
Based on the novel by Kathryn Stockett
Written by Tate Taylor
Rated PG-13
Length: 146 minutes
Grade: A
Starring: Emma Stone, Viola Davis, Bryce Dallas Howard, Octavia Spencer, Allison Janney, Jessica Chastain, Ahna O'Reilly and Sissy Spacek
PREMISE: A free-thinking young white woman in the Deep South decides to learn more about her black maids and neighbors in order to write a book that will impress a big city editor.
RATED PG-13 for intense emotional content related to segregation
--Beautiful and full. If I had to pick two words to describe The Help, Tate Taylor's popular adaptation of Kathryn Stockett's bestseller about a young white woman's attempt to get her ignorant, racist peers to see their black maids, nannies, and neighbors for who they really are, it would be those two--beautiful and full. This movie has generated strong word of mouth and impressive box-office clout for a straight drama full of women, and I can see why. Between its sprawling, exceptional cast, and moments both light, funny, and emotional that keep you rooted in your seat, this movie is a treasure.
--That young white woman is Eugenia "Skeeter" Phelan (a radiant Emma Stone), who hails from snooty, segregated Jackson, Mississippi, but has a head full of new ideas and perspectives after four years at Ole Miss. She sets herself apart from her peers-most of them uptight, boy-crazy, responsibility-shunning princesses like Elizabeth Leefolt (Anna O'Reilly), by daring to think for herself, to apply for a job, to pursue a career (as a writer), and to understand that she was, in fact, raised-and loved-by a black woman, her nanny Constantine (Cicely Tyson, seen only in flashbacks). Seeking her big break, Skeeter manages to win the attention of a big-time New York editor (Mary Steenburgen) by promising to write a book about Southern culture-particularly the edgy, tension-fraught interaction between whites and blacks-from the blacks' point of view. Having nothing but fond memories of her own nanny, Skeeter decides to target nannies and housekeepers, considering their frequent, intimate interaction with whites.
--In the meantime able to get a job writing a housekeeping column for the Jackson Journal, Skeeter asks for assistance from Aibileen Clark (Viola Davis, finally getting the leading role she's deserved), who has spent her entire life as a nanny and now almost single-handedly raises Elizabeth Leefolt's toddler and first child. At first scared and reluctant to participate, lest it bring trouble down on herself (the mildest of which trouble would be vandalism), Aibileen begins to assist Skeeter with not just the column, but a book of blacks' stories about whites, from the blacks' point of view, after she sees-again and again-the degradation and humiliation of her peers in the black community. Soon, getting stories isn't the problem for Skeeter--keeping the project hidden, especially from her critical, proper mother (Allison Janney) and her childhood friend and local Queen Bee diva Hilly (a terrific Bryce Dallas Howard), is the real issue, one that could endanger lives if it's found out.
--Honestly, I've barely shared half the movie's subplots, but they are well-tended to (very well-tended to; almost no single moment in this movie is wasted) by Taylor, who should be applauded for giving today's attention-deficit audiences a full (there's that word, again) movie, even at two and a quarter hours. The movie drags just a little bit at the end, but nearly all that time is necessary to put flesh and bone on each of its many characters.
--And what characters they are. Indeed, the characters are all so well-developed and well-played that I don't know how the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences chose just three for its acting categories when it announced the Oscar nominees this morning.
--Nomination one was Viola Davis for Best Actress, who was previously nominated for a small role in the tense drama Doubt, but, here, gets much more screen time and uses it to her, and our, benefit. Playing an older, wiser woman who "knows her place", Davis doesn't quite get the lively crackling role some of her co-stars do, but she holds the screen with dignity, honesty, and, when necessary, heartbreaking emotion.
--Having now seen the movie, I don't know that I'd even call Aibileen the film's "main character", as I'm quite certain Emma Stone and Bryce Dallas Howard get at least as much, if not more, screen time. Both are excellent. Stone is the audience's anchor, someone to hold onto and sympathize with after a few, very frank, early moments of whites disregarding and even openly insulting blacks. Blunt, convincingly emotional and, when need be, effortlessly charming, Stone shows she's the real deal. And she needs to be when often sharing the screen with Howard, who, in her best role since her breakthrough in M. Night Shyamalan's The Village, comes out firing on all cylinders as the steely, trash-talking Hilly, a social white rights activist. The closest thing The Help has to a villain, Howard chills the blood with just flicks of her eyes, let alone her acerbic and coolly confident line readings. What with the way she dominates a room, the way she's the center of everything, and her you're-in-with-me-or-you're-out personality, she got me trying to picture a young Hillary Clinton. I don't know how the Academy, and other voting bodies, overlooked Howard, but hers, to me, is one of the performance you'll really remember.
--The two Best Supporting Actress nominees are Octavia Spencer, as Aibileen's cynical, wise-cracking friend Minny, and Jessica Chastain as Minny's eventual employer, a cloying, ditsy, white trash outsider who seems to take whatever life gives her but really just wants to fit in. Both actresses give effective performances; in fact, Chastain is so good I wished she had more screen time; she doesn't really appear until about an hour into the film, and her scenes are short and spaced out, but her infectious optimism works magic in what is often a nervewracking, emotional film.
--Even the Supporting Actresses' supporting actors warrant mention, as Allison Janney, Sissy Spacek, Tyson and Mike Vogel each make memorable impressions, Vogel in just one short scene.
--With a pack of such attractive women, this movie can't help but be beautifully-shot, and it is, with lots of sunny days, lavishly-decorated '60s room sets and costumes, and a few meaningful scenic locales. The writing is wonderfully-effective, giving Davis her soft-spoken wisdom, Stone her snappy defensiveness, Howard her tinkling and/or raging bravado, Spencer her "mmm hmm" earthiness, and Chastain her sun-shining tidbits; very little in this movie feels forced, and you feel the punch of the most important scenes, be it Minny's acceptance by Chastain's classically-white-collar husband (Vogel), a central prank pulled on Howard's Hilly by Minny, or the scene where Skeeter, alone and unexpected, emerges into a roomful of mistreated, weary black women who have just had a friend harmed by their white neighbors.
--Okay, so I've gone on and on. As serious as a movie as it can be-and after a few early scenes of Hilly's blunt mistreatment of Aibileen and others, you start to fear for upcoming edgy content-it is also funny, has effective hints of romance and has enough subplots that you'd like to dive into even more. Like I said, it dragged a little at the end, but about an hour and 45 minutes effortlessly flew by. It vindicated its Academy Award nominations (other than the acting nods for Davis, Spencer and Chastain, it's also in the running for Best Picture), and it left me feeling bright and hopeful.
So, do I recommend it? I can't lie: the average husband/boyfriend coerced into watching this by one or more needy females may find his attention lagging (or thoroughly gone) by the largely female-dominated proceedings and period details, but I'd recommend this without hesitation for anyone who likes a good story, good acting, or is open to good things in films (oh, and to just about all women). I knew almost nothing about The Help-other than the fact that it got nominated for four Oscars (still can't believe Howard was overlooked) before I turned it on, and it made me a believer. And, as I've mentioned, some of the racial content can be iffy for children--not that I think the talky proceedings here would interest most children--but there's not a hint of sex or nudity and very little swearing (except for a memorable anecdote in one of the crucial scenes).
Bottom Line (I promise): A great cast and good writing, in an effective story, proves a terrific combination in a thought-provoking and likable film.
The Help (2011)
Directed by Tate Taylor
Based on the novel by Kathryn Stockett
Written by Tate Taylor
Rated PG-13
Length: 146 minutes
Introducing....Me
"Necessary? Is it necessary for me to drink my own urine?" -Rip Torn, in Dodgeball
I'm not sure if this is necessary. I'm going to use this site mostly for reviews. I come from a movie-watching family, at about 12 got REALLY into movies, have been for a while. One of my favorite Web sites is http://www.metacritic.com/, where you can see about 30 critics' reviews for almost any movie, as soon as they're released. For instance, the first reviews for Liam Neeson's The Grey, due out this Friday, are available on that site. Found that site back when I was looking for people who were sharing in my adulation of The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, and I keep going back to it ever since. I've learned that it's great to read good reviews a movie you like, but way more fun to read reviews of a movie critics hated (especially if you didn't like it or are indifferent). Oh yeah. It's funny. Anyway, I guess I've read enough reviews in my day that I think like a critic, and often have more to say, once I've seen a movie, than "Oh, it was good" or "Oh, it sucked". So I'm trying this. I usually have a lot I want to say, to expel, to GET OUT OF MY SYSTEM, some way, after I watch a movie, so this is how I'm gonna do it. Might even arrange something where I rent at least one movie a week and review it, and see one movie a week in theatres and review it. Something like that.
Yep. Me being a movie nerd, I'll start each non-review post with a favorite movie quote (that particular one, from Dodgeball, always gets me) just to keep up the movielover vibe. And I may tweak the design of this blog later, but, right now, I'm satisfied with just getting it up.
I'm not sure if this is necessary. I'm going to use this site mostly for reviews. I come from a movie-watching family, at about 12 got REALLY into movies, have been for a while. One of my favorite Web sites is http://www.metacritic.com/, where you can see about 30 critics' reviews for almost any movie, as soon as they're released. For instance, the first reviews for Liam Neeson's The Grey, due out this Friday, are available on that site. Found that site back when I was looking for people who were sharing in my adulation of The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, and I keep going back to it ever since. I've learned that it's great to read good reviews a movie you like, but way more fun to read reviews of a movie critics hated (especially if you didn't like it or are indifferent). Oh yeah. It's funny. Anyway, I guess I've read enough reviews in my day that I think like a critic, and often have more to say, once I've seen a movie, than "Oh, it was good" or "Oh, it sucked". So I'm trying this. I usually have a lot I want to say, to expel, to GET OUT OF MY SYSTEM, some way, after I watch a movie, so this is how I'm gonna do it. Might even arrange something where I rent at least one movie a week and review it, and see one movie a week in theatres and review it. Something like that.
Yep. Me being a movie nerd, I'll start each non-review post with a favorite movie quote (that particular one, from Dodgeball, always gets me) just to keep up the movielover vibe. And I may tweak the design of this blog later, but, right now, I'm satisfied with just getting it up.
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