The Revenant

Posted on January 11, 2016 by Mark DuPré

Cold. Beautiful. Brutal. Fierce. Intense. Stunning. Violent.

And that’s just Tom Hardy’s performance.

But seriously, The Revenant (recent winner of the Golden Globe for Best Picture/Drama) is a far-reaching work of art that is worth seeing while falling just short of greatness.

The film is what you might get when you mix The Searchers with Dr. Zhivago, Lawrence of Arabia, Gravity, All is Lost, The Passion of the Christ, Gladiator and Old Boy. It’s a visually gorgeous epic on a grand scale, a tale of survival and revenge set against the forbidding but breathtaking mountains of Montana and South Dakota in the 1820s. In its scope and beauty, it recalls the epics of David Lean. The cinematography is both exquisite and technically impressive (sometimes too much so). The acting is top-notch, and not just from soon-to-be-Oscar winner Leonardo DiCaprio. Probably the most ambitious film of the year, it’s an instructive follow-up to last year’s Birdman or (the Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance (from the same director).

First, the good. See this on the big screen, as it has some of the most coldly beautiful images you’ve seen in years. Cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki (Oscars for Gravity and Birdman) may well pick up his third Academy Award in as many years for his work here. In an era of watching movies on one’s iPhone, this may be the year’s best advertisement for seeing films in movie theaters, where such magnificent and striking images belong.

With weaker actors, the landscapes may well have overwhelmed the characters. Fortunately, that’s not the case here. If awards were given for commitment or sacrifice, DiCaprio would have won them all this year for his work here. But he goes far beyond that with a performance that holds the film together almost wordlessly at times, and with a fierce drive of a character bent on staying alive and exacting his revenge. In terms of awards, it’s his year, but well deserved for this performance. Few actors could beat the weight of a film this size.

Equally as good is Tom Hardy as the [spoiler alert] villain. Hardy so inhabits his character and blends so well into the harshness of the landscape that it may seem all of a piece, thereby hiding his artistry. But he is as good if not better than DiCaprio, and brings balance and clarity to Hugh’s (DiCaprio) struggle. Hardy is a great talent, and we can only hope for a long career of such rich work.

Making yet another appearance in an award-winning or popular film this year is the apparently ubiquitous Domhnall Gleeson, holding up his end of the film after solid performances just this year in Ex Machina, Brooklyn and Star Wars: The Force Awakens. And while there isn’t a weak performance in the bunch, it’s good to see that Will Poulter (The Maze Runner and The Chronicles of Narnia: Voyage of the Dawn Treader) is making a successful transition to more adult, thoughtful films.

The downsides have to do with the plot and the weaknesses of the visual style. Criticisms have included a rather weak storyline, and that’s true. To go back to David Lean, his greatest epics balanced a grand visual style with a story that resonated with “big ideas” such as war, brotherhood, historical moments, great loves, nation-building, etc. Here we have a rather thin tale of a man trying to survive, but driven largely to stay alive by revenge. Yet that is qualified and then [spoiler alert] undone by what seems a half-hearted commitment to a “Revenge is mine, says the Lord” idea.

That idea is first expressed by a passing Native American in a kind of almost throwaway line, and then is repeated with little dramatic import at the end. If this climactic thought and action were going to be something important in the plot, it needed to be more of a struggle than it appeared, and it could have added the kind of “will he or won’t he” frisson that ramped up tension in The Searchers when we wondered not only if John Wayne’s character would find his niece, but what he would when he found her. Instead, the lack of commitment to the though—the very thought that changes the climax!—undermines an already thin story.

More than that, the struggle for revenge ends with the kind of hand-to-hand combat we tend to find in second-rate action films. I suppose it’s more dramatic to have those intent on killing one another do some personal space fighting, but it comes off as more of a cliché than a climax.

Finally, the technically accomplished cinematography repeats some of the elements we found in last year’s Birdman, but to lesser effect. That film appeared to be comprised of one long take. While that aspect of Birdman was dazzling, what kept it rooted in humanity were the great expressive characters (and the talented actors playing them) and the high personal stakes of the central story—and many of the subplots as well. The style meshed perfectly with the content, and they fed each other.

Here the long takes tend to distract in the way that the bravura beach sequence in Atonement tended to. Impressive, yes, but it can take one out of the film. Same here with some sequences, especially with the attack scenes. Instead of focusing on the drama or narrative consequences of the actions, these scenes tend to come across as a bit choreographed and self-conscious. It reminded me of the visual style used by Terrence Malick in The Tree of Life, a swooping, angled approach to the film’s material that completely worked in that film, and then completely didn’t work when it was employed in his next film, To the Wonder. What was exhilarating and meaningful in Birdman was exhilarating and distracting here in The Revenant.

 

The Tree of Life, which failed in part because of dinosaurs and Sean Penn, reached high and succeeded greatly, even if it didn’t quite accomplish all its high goals. The Revenant is like that—full of ambition, drive, creativity, and brutal force—and while not quite fulfilling its potential, is the great epic of the year.

 

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Golden Globe Awards–2016

Posted on January 11, 2016 by Mark DuPré

Quote from the Golden Globes website about the members who vote:

The Hollywood Foreign Press Association (HFPA) is a non-profit organization, the members of which are international journalists based in Southern California. The HFPA has about members who disseminate information about movies and television to the world through their various publications throughout the world.

Host/comic/actor Ricky Gervais was right last night. The Golden Globe Awards are really not worth anything. That is, they aren’t worth anything in terms of art, and really aren’t worth much to anyone else unless folks who market films can fool some folks that they should see a film because it won a Golden Globe. Remember that there are fewer than 100 members (perhaps fewer than 90). It’s right up there with the small number of voters on the Nobel Peace Prize committee, whose awards can often be taken with the same reservations.

In truth, the Globes are not quite the complete joke they were even a few years ago, though this year’s categories raise a question or two. In years past, the relatively small group of foreign journalists could be essentially bought with parties and trinkets, and they have rather nakedly nominated some folks because it would be nice (and lucrative) to have them appear on the awards show. Case in point from distant past: Pia Zadora winning anything for 1982’s Butterfly and 2010’s three nominations (including Best Picture) for The Tourist, which happened to feature camera-friendly Angelina Jolie and Johnny Depp.

This year’s entries are not quite as laughable, and will likely function best as precursors for the Oscars, which is really the Golden Globes’ true role. There is no one standout film this year, and The Revenant winning Best Picture (Drama) is as good a choice as any.—as is giving the director award to its director Alejandro Iñárritu (director of last year’s Birdman) . Leonardo DiCaprio’s win was well deserved, both in terms of this film and his career (yes, he’s been around that long, and has been doing fine but often unrecognized work for years). DiCaprio deserves the accolades, but in truth there was no other male performance that has stood out this year, so the award may well have been for a career rather than the performance itself.

As intelligent and worthwhile as these three awards were, the foolishness that is the Golden Globes surfaced in its two categories for Best Picture/Actor/Actress. In what seems like a better categorization process than that of the Oscars, the Golden Globes divide pics and acting between drama and comedy. Since comedy is often so painfully misunderstood and ignored, it seems like a good idea. But apparently the application process is often wanting. The Martian as a comedy? It’s so ludicrous a thought that it seems beyond criticism, the awards critique equivalent of shooting fish in a barrel.

You know how funny it was, right? Stranded on Mars, fighting for survival, many folks worried on the ground and others risking their lives in outer space—remember all those hysterical scenes? And that Matt Damon—what a card! To be honest, I’m glad the film was recognized as Best Picture (Comedy) and that Damon won something for his star turn—which was more difficult than it looked. But (pardon the irony) seriously? A comedy? Yes, many of us take the foolishness of the HFPA and the awards for granted, but following the foolishness to its obvious end—as happened here—is beyond ridiculous. But hey, it’s only the Golden Globes, right?

In terms of anything remotely affecting reality, Brie Larson’s win for Room puts her squarely in line for an Oscar, which might bring more attention to the film, and will certainly not hurt the career of this young and talented actress. Kate Winslet looked genuinely shocked at her win for Best Supporting Actress for Steve Jobs, which also picked up a screenwriting award for Hollywood favorite Aaron Sorkin. (He looked as shocked as Winslet at his win.)

Sylvester Stallone’s win for Best Supporting Actor for Creed was a sentimental gesture, to be sure, but in truth was more than that. Mark Rylance, for example, (up for Bridge of Spies in this category) is a far better actor than Stallone could ever be, but Stallone’s performance in Creed as the finest work he’d ever done. He also “stuck out,” a near-essential to winning awards in his film in a way that some of the other performances didn’t. (Rylance’s work, as it often is, was beautifully subtle). And where was The Revenant’s Tom Hardy, and why was he missing in this list?

Jennifer Lawrence winning for Joy was a yawn. She is beloved by the Hollywood Foreign Press, and the others in her category (Best Actress/Comedy) were too old and already decorated, in films that were too small, or were “out there” loud actresses that may be funny but are not the well-rounded talents that Lawrence is. As Gervais said while introducing Morgan Freeman as the most respected actor in the room—while acknowledging that “that isn’t saying much”—this category, this year, wasn’t the strongest, and Lawrence’s win isn’t much of a triumph.

Other thoughts on the winners: Inside Out won over the recently lauded Anomalisa may help its chances with the Academy Awards; the same for Son of Saul in the Foreign Film category. (It seems a truism at this point that a sure way to a win for foreign films or documentaries is to have a Holocaust drama….)

Yes, there were some fascinating and surprising choices in the television awards, but this website is not www.TV-prof.com. : )

As for the show itself, acid-tongued Gervais presented a variety of humorous, tough, and occasionally awkward moments (especially with Mel Gibson). But his overall take on the Awards—that they are worthless and that the show is ridiculous—worked well in context. He is an acquired taste, to be sure, and he can be cruelly mean-spirited at times. But his ever-growing apparent discontent with the show as it progressed was funny and a much-needed antidote to the poisonous stuffy self-congratulatory spirit of the awards (which is only a preview to the greater self-importance demonstrated at the Oscars).

All in all, the Golden Globe awards proved what an unusual year it is for films, in that there is no one film that is dominating artistically (written while Star Wars: The Force Awakens is mopping up financially). Ultimately, Gervais is not just funny but correct. These are relatively useless awards. For the marketers, winning an award might draw a few folks in. For the artists themselves, it’s a happy thing to win but the award has nowhere near the significance of an Oscar. As a bellwether for those interested in what might be coming up for the Oscars, it’s at least fodder for the 24-hour entertainment news folks. And writers like me.

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The Thin Man (1934)

Posted on January 4, 2016 by Mark DuPré

At once primitive and shockingly modern is one way to describe the 1934 classic, The Thin Man. It seems creaky and hopelessly old-fashioned in the way it sets up its crime story. Then we get to the heart of the film, which isn’t the plot at all, but the relationship between Nick and his wife Nora Charles (William Powell and Myrna Loy). If you’ve never seen it, stick with the murder story even through the awkward rhythms of the plot and the acting of the rest of the cast. They are standard (most of the women and all of the men), with a bit of overintensity from Maureen O’Sullivan (Jane in the early sound Tarzan films and mother of Mia Farrow).

Thrown together in less than two weeks, the film was not considered anything other than an ordinary quickie. But those two marvelous leads and their even more marvelous chemistry led to four Oscar nominations, including Best Picture and Best Actor, and to such a successful run that it spawned five sequels. And the chemistry is still delicious. These two not only love each other, but enjoy each other immensely, and consider it part of the marriage contract to be as witty and engaging as possible with one another at all times. (Personal side note: I remember my mother telling me that seeing this film was her first insight into the concept that for some people, being married could be fun.)

Powell, a consistently underrated and too-soon-forgotten actor, owns the film with the more extroverted performance. Today we are more sensitive to the incredible amount of drinking he does, and that can cut into our enjoyment of his work. But it’s worth putting that aside to enjoy the physical and verbal humor of the actor. He completely and delightfully possesses every scene he’s in in a way that few actors do.

Equally as good is Myrna Loy as his wife, who supports, loves, and cajoles her husband. She is his equal partner in every area of their lives, and her naturalness and connection with her husband feels more fresh than most of today’s cinematic relationship. It’s something of a crime that Loy was never nominated for an Oscar. She certainly should have been for this. Yes, her work makes Powell look better. But she does far more than that, adding spice, stability and a mental quickness to the role that isn’t necessarily in the script.

(1934, in fact, was in year in which the Academy got a lot wrong. Bette Davis, who should have won for Of Human Bondage, wasn’t even officially nominated that year, and became a famous write-in nominee, which led to her win the next year. Claudette Colbert won for Best Actress in 1934 in the unprecedented sweep of It Happened One Night. She was fine, but Loy and Davis were better.)

The cinematography of The Thin Man was by the legendary James Wong Howe, Oscar winner for The Rose Tattoo and Hud in his later years. The print I saw was fine but not full restored, and I’m sure some of the blacks were less murky in the original. But some of the scenes were as deliberately dark as The Godfather, Part Two, a daring move in the early sound years.

The film also just barely gets away with some questionable lines that probably would have not gotten past the censors even later that year. They are not only funny to us now, but the film lets us know that everyone involved is in on the jokes. Think “drawers” and “tabloids.”

The Thin Man is a great visit to the past. If you want to see what a quickly made film looks like from the early sound period, this is a great example. If you want to see two great performances involving some of the best marital chemistry in film history, this should be your next stop.

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Brooklyn

Posted on January 3, 2016 by Mark DuPré

Brooklyn is a lovely, adult, gentle and well-made film that’s anchored by one of the best, if not the best, female performance of the year. In many ways, it’s the complete opposite of this year’s most raucous well-made film, Mad Max: Fury Road. As loud, aggressive, wild, mechanical, and edgy as that film is (as well as anchored by another great performance), Brooklyn is quiet, tender, and as warmly human as any recent film.

The center of the film is, of course, the immensely talented Saoirse Ronan, probably still best known for her Oscar-nominated performance as the young 12-year-old brat Briony in Atonement (though some may remember her in The Lovely Bones, Hanna, or The Grand Budapest Hotel). As much as her Atonement character was all elbows and attitude, Ronan’s character here, Eilis, is soft, sweet, and initially unsure of herself and what she wants. Ronan, now 21, will be nominated for a Best Actress Oscar, and may well deserve a win. She’s already won several from different groups, including the New York Film Critics Circle Award. The wonder of the performance is all in the eyes and the mind. Eilis begins as someone brave enough to move away from her family to America and begin a new life, yet is unsure of what she really believes about life and love and how to navigate either. She is often asked a question or faced with a new situation, and she clearly doesn’t yet know how to respond. What we see is a flurry of thoughts and feelings go through her mind, and reflect only subtly on her face. We see the confusion without her really looking externally confused. Other actors would play it either blankly or with too much external expression. Ronan finds that place of strong feeling yet confusion of thought so difficult to express on film.

Then her character begins to grow in confidence, and Ronan’s performance flowers with her character’s emotional progress. You can still feel the pressing into growth and maturity, but you can also see the expanding surefootedness of Eilis as she falls in love, begins to truly own her job, and examines different futures than she ever imagined. Ronan keeps the quiet, internal nature of Eilis, but allows her to grow from within rather than “act” more mature. Even in its quietness, it’s a strong and stunning performance. Ronan is officially one of the Great Young Actresses of our age.

Doing solid work in a crucial part is Emery Cohen, perhaps best known for playing the son of Deborah Messing’s character in television’s Smash. In his first romantic lead, Cohen plays the Italian boyfriend of Eilis (a bit of a stretch considering Cohen’s Russian Jewish background). Here he plays a rarely shown character—a young man who is respectful, kind, gentle, and real. There’s nothing phony or corny about him.

Another (spoiler alert) young man who gets involved in her life is played by chameleon Dohmnall Gleeson, son of near-legend Brendan Gleeson. Consider these characters played by Dohmnall: the kind, loving, gently Jim here in Brooklyn; the evil and Hitler-like General Hux in Star Wars: The Force Awakens; Caleb in Ex Machina; geeky/cute/funny Tim in About Time, and so many others, including Harry Potter. To say he has range is obvious. Here, as with the other actors, he underplays, and he fills a vital in both the narrative and in the success of the film.

Worthy of mention is the ever-dependable Julie Walters, most recently of Indian Summers, but perhaps best known for Billy Elliott and Educating Rita. Here she in a minor role, but one that adds flavor to what could have been a clichéd and bland role. And finally, there is Jim Broadbent, who never seems to know how to make a wrong move onscreen. After just having seen Spotlight and the documentary Deliver Us from Evil, it was refreshing to see a Catholic priest who was kind and helpful, and whose only agenda was to continue to be so.

The mise-en-scène reminds me of Tom Hooper’s The King’s Speech. With cinematography by Yves Bélanger (Dallas Buyers Club, Wild), the images appear to be rather straightforward. They often set the actors in settings that can seem overwhelming at times, but they are really an extension rather than a limitation of the characters. This is clean, unselfconscious, yet sensitive filmmaking.

While the film focuses on the deep humanity of its characters, the real theme is what home is. Eilis has two places she could call home—Ireland and Brooklyn. She also has a variety of situations between the two places that could cause her to make her final home in either place. Here is where the cinematography comes in again. It films some scenes as if there were some doubt or tension with the places and relationships she finally decides upon, and it seems to tell us that perhaps she’s found her home in the place she eventually leaves behind her. So in spite of its quiet exterior, the film’s a bit sneaky in its own way.

Brooklyn is a beautifully photography exquisitely acted film that is one of the best of the year. It’s deeply human, and in that alone is a standout in a year of noise and Big Themes. It harkens back to the days of David Lean’s Brief Encounter (1945), an aching, painful, transcendent film that moves in ways that can’t be completely expressed. Brooklyn is like that, and for that alone, is not to be missed. And director John Crowley, best known before this for Closed Circuit and Intermission, is one to keep an eye on.

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Star Wars: The Force Awakens

Posted on December 31, 2015 by Mark DuPré

 

Well, it turns out the sale of Lucasfilm to Disney didn’t destroy the franchise after all. Star Wars: The Force Awakens is fresh and retro, funny and serious, and certainly the most enjoyable action-adventure film of the year—and one that completely refreshes the cinematic myth.

There’s a lot of credit to go around, but first and foremost, hats must be tipped to director and co-writer J.J. Abrams, who did for Star Wars what he did for Star Trek in 2009. He’s given an old and creaky series a serious reboot, bringing it into the present while simultaneously honoring its heritage and even embracing some of its predecessors’ silent–movie serial flavor.

Full disclosure: I was around for the first Star Wars when it came out. But while I have followed the various franchise entries with amusement and disappointment over the years, I am not a Star Wars nerd (not that there’s anything wrong with that). I didn’t clap at the title when it appeared on the screen this time around, nor did I pee my pants, even a little, when the explanatory scroll began. But it was an enjoyable ride nonetheless.

The film is lean and stripped down in terms of plot, which makes things easy for newcomers and old-timers alike. The script is by Abrams, writer-director Lawrence Kasdan (dir., Dreamcatcher, Wyatt Earp, The Big Chill) and Michael Arndt (co-writer of Toy Story 3, and Oscar winner for the script for Little Miss Sunshine). It does a good job of keeping the narrative line simple and straightforward while incorporating necessary elements from the past to keep things connected to the earlier films (e.g., the Millennium Falcon), and still managed to pay homage to the myth created by Lucas. That’s a tough balance to maintain—all while working to create a film in its own right—but TFA does it well. Creed worked to do the same thing with the Rocky saga, and did it well. But this film does it even better.

Much of the credit beyond the director and writers has to go to the actors. In keeping with the history of the franchise, Harrison Ford has the largest role of the three leads in the original, and that helps the film immensely. Unlike some of his more recent performances, which he either grumbled through or phoned in, here Ford returns to both real acting and solidly recreating the iconic character of Han Solo. His presence energizes the film while connecting it to the best of the earlier episodes. (Spoiler alert) His apparent loss to subsequent episodes will be a challenge to the films’ creators, as his presence looms large here and is a major contributor to the film’s success.

Carrie Fisher is nearly unrecognizable at first as the now General Leia, and her performance seems tightly directed. Her character’s feistiness is gone (and missed) and she seems tired, though that works for her character at times. Leia’s presence helps the film, but the actress doesn’t bring much beyond a solid reading of her lines and the weight of years by both actor and character.

The biggest acting triumph of the film aside from Ford’s presence is the casting of the three leads that will carry us into the future—Daisy Ridley as Rey, John Boyega as Finn, and Oscar Isaac as Poe. They carry every kind of scene—action, comedy, adventure—with equal skill, and they have screen presence to burn—a wise choice on which to base future episodes. Ridley has perhaps the most intricate role, and owns it. She’s an immediate star. Boyega has the lighter and more emotional role, but he carries each of his moments as well. Oscar Isacc, who has been making a name for himself as a serious dramatic actor (Inside Llewyn Davis, A Most Violent Year) plays the heroic pilot who disappears early and then (spoiler alert) reappears dramatically. He uses his intensity not for darkness, as he has in other films, but for echoes of depth and bravery in the character. All in all, these three are better actors than the original trilogy, which bodes well for the future.

Adam Driver does his best with this Vader-light character of Kylo Ren, but Driver’s quirky persona and his work in Girls may get in the way for many people. He hits his marks, does anger well, and wells up just as well, so perhaps his skills will push away the preconceptions some might have of him. Oscar winner Lupita Nyong’o makes no physical appearance at all, but simply voices—well, to be sure—a supporting digital character. She shows even more of her talent, but her presence was missed. But BB8, the droid at the center of much of the action, is more than a good replacement for the mostly missing droids and robots of the earlier episodes.

The film has a fascinating tension between the lightness and deftness of the plot and the weight of the franchise myth and some of its darker evocations. If there were hints of Hitler and the brownshirts in earlier episodes, the film’s evocation of Leni Riefenstahl’s Triumph of the Will and Domhnall Gleeson’s Hitlerian raving seem more of a direct comparison to the horrors of the Third Reich than earlier films. We were just three decades from Nazi horror with the first Star Wars; perhaps the gap of 70 years calls for sterner metaphorical measures now.

There are a couple of missteps, but small ones, all having to do with believability and logic. When Rey and Kylo Ren are battling things out and Rey has the upper hand, she simply walks around him when she is in a position to do him in, a photographically beautiful step but a curious one for a character who is battling for her life and seems to hold back when it is least called for. When the earth splits open between the two, Rey just stands there, which works well for a breathtaking shot but which defies common sense, as anyone hoping to survive would step back as gingerly as possible to avoid sliding to one’s death. Then when she (spoiler alert again) meets Luke and holds his light saber toward him, the film holds the image so long (complete with stunning swirling camera movement) that while I was appreciating the symbolic import of the image, I was wondering how long poor Ridley had to hold the light saber up and how sore her arm must have been.

These small kvetches aside, TFA is quicker, defter and in many ways as light an episode as any in the franchise. It’s an energetic joyride that manages to hit many of the most beloved touchstones of the saga along the way. And it ends the way it should—by making us eager for the next one to appear. (Can we really wait two more years?)

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In the Heart of the Sea

Posted on December 29, 2015 by Mark DuPré

In the Heart of the Sea was originally scheduled for a March 2015 release. It was finally released this month (December 2015). Sometimes such delays are a bad sign of a weak film, but current thinking is that the release was delayed to gain more attention for Oscar nominations. Current thinking might be right, but the decision seems ill advised. Oscar nominations seem unlikely beyond visual effects, and the film is getting lost in the wake (pun intended) of The Force Awakens and the other late-season releases. They should have released in March after all.

Despite the low ratings and mediocre reviews, it really isn’t that bad a film. It’s not great, or even near-great, and it misses its many opportunities for something close to engaging time and again. But it’s not a bad film, if simply because the story is compelling.

Actually, the difference between the trailer and the film is telling. The trailer is exciting, energetic and thrilling. The film—not so much. There’s a lesson here somewhere….

The film tells the story of the Essex, the Nantucket whaler attacked by a huge whale and had its crew stranded for months in the Pacific—the story that inspired the Herman Melville classic Moby Dick. It’s regrettable to some extent that this film is going to be the de facto official account of that extraordinary experience; the film gives us a fairly thorough account of what happened without allowing us to enter deeply into the experience or drawing out some of the deeper resonant philosophical possibilities.

As if the story itself needs a “sell,” or because we as viewers need help in putting the story into context, we have a framing device. A young, somewhat successful Herman Melville visits the youngest member of the Essex crew—and its lone survivor, Tom Nickerson—to hear the old man tell the story for Melville’s future novel. Melville is played by Ben Whishaw and the older crewmember by Brendan Gleeson. So we have the film’s two best actors relegated to the framing story, and not in the heart of the film. The framing story has a mini-story of its own, and on paper, I suppose it was intended to be emotionally devastating. It’s not, though these two actors do their best with it.

The film is directed by Ron Howard (A Beautiful Mind, Apollo 13). Howard is a solid director, and can be quite an intelligent one. But he’s not a brilliant one, and deep emotional moments can often pass him by, as is the case here. After watching the trailer, there was an expectation that the whale attack would be one of the most breathtaking sequences of the year. It’s still impressive, especially in terms of where we are with special effects. But while we see everything that happens, we’re not drawn into the drama of the action, and therefore remain observers rather than participants. (Compare this with Star Wars: The Force Awakens, where all the action is connected with the characters we are relating to, and pulls us into the drama outside as well as the emotions inside.)

Our lead is Thor himself, Chris Hemsworth. Hemsworth is an impressive physical presence onscreen, and comes across as a natural leader, a must for the story. But because of the framing device, this isn’t his character’s story, which hurts the film. This is young Tom’s story. So we are allowed entrée into Tom’s story a bit, but Hemsworth’s character Owen Chase is the real protagonist, the one who leads the ship and makes the major, heroic decisions that drive the story, so our attentions are divided. Who are we to identify with primarily—the young Tom that we know lives to literally tell the tale, or Chase, who is our leader and is faced with his own rivalries beyond the giant whale? It’s a question that isn’t satisfactorily answered.

Chase’s human rival is played by Benjamin Walker, best known on Broadway for playing the title role in the rock musical, Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson and as another president in the title role of the film, Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. Here he plays George Pollard, the man you love to hate, a slightly doughy spoiled rich kid who makes stupid decisions because he is too proud to listen to the wisdom of the more experienced Chase. He, like the other actors, is forced into a drastic weight loss regimen to go along with the near-starvation experienced by the surviving members of the Essex’s loss. It’s telling that this weight-loss story is presently getting more press than any other aspect of the film.

Walker, because he is set so strongly against our good guy Chase, at least stands out. The film possesses an abundance of excellent British actors, but then does little to differentiate them as crew members, though one is supposed to be “like a brother” to Chase. So we have the talented Cillian Murphy and Joseph Mawle essentially wasted as, essentially, “other crew members.” Another opportunity squandered.

The bottom line, however, is that the story is a classic one, and the fact that the film is based on truth gives it a punch lacking in both the script and direction. For those interested in history, whaling, Cape Cod, Nantucket or any of the lead actors, it’s well worth one’s time. But you have to supply the connection. Unlike The Force Awakens, which pulls one into character and drama, In the Heart of the Sea does neither. We get to observe the story; we just don’t get to experience it.

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The Hunger Games: Mockingjay, Part Two

Posted on December 23, 2015 by Mark DuPré

It’s only been a month since the last installment of The Hunger Games was released, but in the dominant glow of the latest Star Wars film, it seems much longer ago than that. Part of the reason for that is not only the buzz over The Force Awakens, but the end-of-the-year buzz over the other Oscar bait released at this time, all of which tends to suck the air out of the critical and popular room and cause us to forget anything earlier than two weeks ago. The other reason is that the trilogy-tuned-into-four f-i-n-a-l-l-y c-a-m-e t-o a h-a-l-t s-o s-l-o-w-l-y.

This last entry brought things to a conclusion, succeeding in wrapping up most loose ends. But it did so with little excitement and more time taken than it should have; in fact, things rather limped to an conclusion at a tired, methodical pace. There was only one real shocking moment, but that had more to do with the startling beginning of an essentially inconsequential “fight” scene with horrible creatures than anything to do with the main plot. It’s as if our emotional investment in this film is spent on minor moments rather than major issues.

More than ever, however, Jennifer Lawrence shows her star power and acting skills. Though there is a certain deadness to the character of Katniss at this point in her life and struggle, Lawrence still holds the screen and her thought-filled, elongated scenes with internal life and focus. Even in her calm and stillness, she holds attention when surrounded with the minor stars, partly because they aren’t in enough of the film to have an impact, and when they do, they surround her as insects around a light. Jeffrey Wright, Elizabeth Banks, Stanley Tucci and Woody Harrelson—these are actors who can dominate when given half a chance, but their time in the film is so limited that there is no danger of moving our attention away from center (AKA, Katniss). Again, it’s as if the energy of the film is being deliberately tamped down in deference to the stoicism of our lead.

Only Donald Sutherland could balance the scales with his powerful performance in these film as President Snow. [Spoiler alert] But here he is weakened almost from the start, and he presents less and less of a challenge to Katniss and to Lawrence as the film goes on. This continues to keep the focus on our central character, but it also robs the film of the energy of its central conflict. Having the great Philip Seymour Hoffman die during the film’s making also damaged the film, as one of his possibly strongest scenes apparently turned into a letter that was read (can you feel the energy draining out of the film as you read this?) by a third party to Katniss. Even the talented Julianne Moore (who joins her Oscar-winning and Oscar-nominated “older actress” sisters Kate Winslet and Glenn Close as great female dystopian leaders) is less than compelling, and [another spoiler alert] her ultimate fate is painfully predictable to even those of us who haven’t read the books.

Then there is the Peeta-Gale issue, which yes, gets resolved. But like the fates of Snow and Coin (Moore), it’s almost perfunctory rather than engaging or even dramatic. Both men seem to actually fade away as the film progresses, and even though one is the ultimate “winner,” one begins to wonder what the legendary Katniss sees in either one other than a childhood friendship. (There is a rather nice “real or not real” trope that is used well in the second half of the film, though, and at least makes the moment of choice verbally interesting if not dramatically satisfying.)

I don’t know if the film was quoting or paying homage to previous film classics, but the comparison between those films and this only reflected negatively on the newer film. Is the way Panem is treated visually only coincidentally like that of Nuremberg in Triumph of the Will, and if so, why is that 1934 film horrifying in its cinematic monumentalism while this one simply looks like a triumph of CG? Is The Third Man being quoted in the sewer scenes, and if so, why is that older British film so much more suspenseful than Mockingjay, Part Two?

The film is admittedly well photographed, with a clear preference for stillness rather than action—perhaps a telling sign of why this film ended up so lethargic at times.

For one who is no longer a Young Adult, and is a non-reader of the books, the final chapter here at least provides closure with the main questions of who will live and die, who will win and who will reign, and which of two unengaging characters will end up with our heroine. Yet the drawn-out pace and lack of dramatic tension throughout leads to the thought that, except perhaps for the financial benefit of its makers, the series should have remained a trilogy.

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Spotlight

Posted on December 15, 2015 by Mark DuPré

Spotlight was supposed to be the critical hit of the year. It was supposed to be our era’s All the President’s Men. It’s got the greatest cast since…whatever. Apparently the awards are not working out that way at this point, a few “Best Film” awards and cast awards notwithstanding. That’s a pity, as between the new Star Wars film and the other end-of-year films, there’s a chance that it will be ignored.

It’s not the new All the President’s Men, as some have claimed. It doesn’t have the texture, breadth or depth of that film. But its theme is easily as important, and it’s perhaps the best-acted, intelligent, adult film of the year. For those not yet familiar with it, this is the true story of an investigative team of journalists within The Boston Globe who set their sights on a story of sexual abuse by Catholic priests in the Boston diocese. The story begins with an investigation of one priest who seemed to have been protected (i.e., moved around when he got caught), and then unfolds in horrifying layers to indicate a systemic cover-up within the entire Catholic hierarchy in the area.

The film is lean, clean, stripped down, and uncomplicated. The story—not the special effects, or grand camerawork, or even scenery-chewing actors—is the star here, and it’s enough to carry the film through with an intensity that pulls us in in the first few minutes. The film is directed by Tom McCarthy (best known for writing The Station Agent and Million Dollar Arm) and co-written by McCarthy and Josh Singer.

It looks and feels like a film directed by a writer. It’s a bit overwritten at times in that the main actors say those “tell me more about that” statements to get the viewer up to speed, or they ask questions that they should already know the answers to, all for our sake as viewers. It’s a tough balance when there are complexities and subtleties to the story, but the film seemed a bit on the literal and explanatory side at times. The camera movement and mise-en-scène of cinematographer Masanobu Takayanagi, who did more dramatic photographic work in Silver Linings Playbook and especially The Warrior, is here more subdued and submitted to the forward motion of the plot. Unlike those two films, too, the color palette is more realistic and reflective of a normal office set-up. Less exciting, but in good service to the focus on the investigators.

What’s getting all the attention, aside from the theme of the film, is the acting. Michael Keaton has already won a Best Actor Award from the New York Film Critics Circle, and for some mysterious reason, Rachel McAdams was picked for a Best Supporting Actress Award nomination from her peers in the Screen Actors Guild. She was solid, to be sure, and put forth more intelligence than charm and screen presence, which is difficult considering how much of the latter two qualities she possesses. But why the guild passed over the other actors is confusing. Thankfully, they are nominated by the guild as a cast, but that’s a tough category this year (see The Big Short, Straight Outta Compton and Trumbo.)

If I had to pick a standout in this excellent group, it may well be Liev Schreiber (television’s Ray Donovan), who plays the new boss from out of town who is less than welcome at first but brings the necessary outsider perspectives needed to push the story through to its grand conclusion. He underplays beautifully, which adds a great contrast to the other actors, and adds another level of complexity to the overall story.

There isn’t a weak link in the cast. Keaton is smart and intense, John Slattery is solid, the irreplaceable Stanley Tucci adds another great character to his repertoire, Jamey Sheridan has never been better, Billy Crudup is slick but never sleazy, and Brian d’Arcy James (a Broadway legend but probably best known for TV’s Smash) should be thanking his lucky stars every night that he had the opportunity to join this cast for this film (and he’s nearly as good as the others, but with just a little less screen presence).

The always fascinating Mark Ruffalo has the official lead in the cast, and brings his unique presence to the film. He is the hothead, and his trademark intensity is on hand to complement the character’s concerns and actions. Ruffalo is a presence like Bill Murray, not in the comedy sense, but in the sense that he tends to always be in another film than every else, and he seems to break out of the mise-en-scène like a solo actor in an old movie with a matte shot behind him of the other actors. On one hand, it works for a character not in synch with the rest of his team at times, but for someone who always threatens to punch through the screen, underplaying seems to serve him best (see Foxcatcher for a fine example).

Without overplaying his hand, McCarthy lets us know that we are all guilty of some level of complicity in the cover-up. There were those who coolly and knowingly put politics or expediency before the safety of children, and there were others who, to one degree or another, essentially ignored the story at one stage or another—for almost understandable reasons: Who would have imagined the scope? Who would have had the ability to connect the dots early on? There is plenty of guilt to go around, but we are moved and challenged rather than slimed.

The film falters in a few ways. Slattery’s character seems as if there is more to the story of his decisions and reactions, but nothing comes of it; it seems as if something was left on the cutting room floor (or archived). The dedication to the story-chasing is probably reflective of the journalists’ focus, but the leanness unfortunately makes the film pale a bit in comparison to All the President’s Men, a comparison that is inevitable considering the two stories—and even the presence of Ben Bradlee (Jason Robards) in the older film and Ben Bradlee Jr. (Slattery) in the newer one. Perhaps a little more rounding of the characters’ lives or emotions might have made for a stronger film.

Yet Spotlight is easily one of the best films of the year, and perhaps the most important one. It’s a showcase of great acting, a defense of the kind of journalism we rarely see, and its theme, while not allowed to resonate with the viewer as it could, is unfortunately always tragic and always current. We don’t get a lot of smart, mature films that handle a strong theme with intelligence and cunning. We need to see them when they come around.

 

 

 

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Creed

Posted on December 12, 2015 by Mark DuPré

Let’s hope that Creed doesn’t get completely lost in the rush of end-of-year films, including major franchise entries such as Mockingjay, Part Two and that upcoming Star Something…. Creed is both nostalgic and original, fresh and old-school. Yes, it can be viewed as the latest in the Rocky series, but considering everything filmed after the original 1976 Best Picture Winner, it would be best to call this Rocky.2. It’s easily the best Rocky film since the original, and it extends rather than drags out the franchise and the concept.

Creed is the story of Apollo Creed’s “love child,” a young man who can’t get fighting out of his system, and can’t yet come to terms with the legacy he possesses. Should he deny it, forget it about it, or embrace it? As he begins to become a real fighter, he enlists the help of the legendary Rocky, whom he has to coax out of retirement to help him. The rest of the story is as clichéd as the previous couple of sentences, but takes nothing away from the film, and in fact provides a great deal of its enjoyment.

This is the next Rocky film, yes, but it’s a film on its own terms. It doesn’t balance yesterday and today completely, and the juggling of themes and moods doesn’t always work, but this is an example of the voice of a fresh, relatively new filmmaker, Ryan Coogler, who succeeds in resurrecting a cinematic myth with respect and creativity.

Creed is played by Michael B. Jordan, known best for a fine turn in Coogler’s previous film (and except for Creed, only other feature) Fruitvale Station, and the unfortunate 2015 version of Fantastic Four, where perhaps 12 people saw him as Johnny Storm. He has clearly spent hours in the gym, and looks something like a fighter, but just not quite one in the same weight class as we are led to believe. Jordan is an intelligent, thoughtful actor, and brings a sensitivity to the role that the casting of a mindless palooka would have missed. He provides a depth to the character that isn’t found in the script, and it adds immeasurably to the film. He’s already won the Boston Online Film Critics Association Award for Best Actor for this one, so he’s far more than just a guy who can look the part.

The big surprise of the film, though, is Sylvester Stallone, who is giving perhaps his best performance in any film, including the original Rocky. (He just won the above group’s Best Supporting Actor Award, as well as a Golden Globe nomination.) His relaxed approach and genuinely touching acting moments may well snag him a sentimental Supporting Actor Oscar nomination—one he’d never win, but one that a nostalgic-feeling branch of the Academy may want to reward him with. He’s clearly not working the nostalgia angle, though, and brings a fresh, modern, and loose feel to his performance. He’s the Rocky we may remember from 40 years ago, but he is re-presented here as a real, tired, but vibrant and believable person.

The music is emblematic of the struggle of the film to combine diverse elements into a single film. The film has to be current yet evoke the legend. It seeks to be respectful, even evocative, of the original Rocky storyline but wants to feel like today. The music that works the best is hip-hop, which has the energy and feel of the life and struggles of Creed and his friends. Then there is a full, lush orchestral sound that seems to try to evoke the ‘70s sound of the early Rocky age. But it seems out of place, and I was at times wondering if we were about to be treated to a chorus of “Come Saturday Morning” from The Sterile Cuckoo. Then there is the full dramatic, orchestral sound of the “big scenes” such as fights, running, and scenes of working out, which are modern replays from the earlier Rockys, and are a bit much, tending to overplay the moment.

The balance of old and new, freshness and deliberate nostalgia, are worthy of some serious study and could easily be the topic of many a film paper. But for the regular filmgoer, this is an enjoyable film on its own as well as a model for how to respect the franchise, evoke the best parts of yesterday, and still be an inventive, entertaining and engaging film.

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The Good Dinosaur

Posted on December 6, 2015 by Mark DuPré

Bottom line: Not so “good.”

Probably the best part of this latest Pixar film was the marketing decision to release it during the long Thanksgiving weekend, when its competition consisted of more grown-up offerings. TGD is just OK at best, and borderline offensive (I think) at times. It’s weak Pixar, to be kind, and occasionally little more than glorified Saturday morning television fare.

First, the strengths. The backgrounds are beautiful, and sometimes genuinely stunning and breathtaking. The film’s rendering of water is exquisite. Water is notoriously difficult to get right in animation, especially when one is attempting something close to realism over visual poetry.

Unfortunately, the artistry of the main animal characters isn’t up to the level of the backgrounds, and its shows. Sometimes it doesn’t matter, and other times, it’s painfully obvious.

The story is generic, but that’s not the problem. On paper, most of the great Pixar or Disney films sound simplistic in terms of plot. The problem with The Good Dinosaur is that it’s essentially one-dimensional. Pixar films are known to resonate with both children and adults, and with meaning that touches the heart, the mind and the memory banks. TGD is children’s fare, and while certain sequences have their own excitement, the Toy Story adult/child vibe or the Inside Out multi-level richness is absent. It’s cute, but won’t reward multiple viewings in the same way.

There are also a few…let’s call them…challenges with the film. The first is the preceding cartoon is “Sanjay’s Super Team,” which may challenge parents not acquainted with Hindu gods to explain what’s going on to their children.

Some of the other challenges involve the main film’s evolutionary stance. It’s not unusual to see something like “65 Million Years Ago” or some such dating in a modern film. But the treatment of the little “feral human” and his (spoiler alert) ultimate family unit as half-humans somewhere up the chain between knuckle-draggers and full human beings may not jive with many parents’ view of how we got here on this Earth.

Perhaps most in-your-face offensive is the seeming occasional satire of Christianity, which is a bit jarring in a children’s film. One of the more nasty critters is fond of using the phrase “the storm provides” in an obvious pun on “the Lord provides.” That could have been cute and a funny variation. But with the other “revival” activities surrounding the use of that phrase [one of the other creatures gets a “relevation,” (revelation) in a kind of ecstatic experience] the religious references are more cutting and offensive than quaint or creative. It’s hard not to find the combination merely a fun twist of phrase.

The film was known to have replaced its original director and to have delayed its release date by a year. Perhaps that accounts for the problems with the film. For younger children, it might prove a diversion. It certainly won’t become a classic.

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