AFI Fest 2014 Review: "A Most Violent Year"

Director: J.C. Chandor
Runtime: 135 minutes

Though perhaps not a great film, the 28th AFI Fest has gotten off to an appropriately glamorous start. The AFI is a training ground for up and coming voices in film, so it only makes sense to kick off the festival with A Most Violent Year, the third film from rising writer/director J.C. Chandor. Jumping genres once again, this time to the world of classic New York gangster drama, Chandor has created a solid story out of familiar parts that is best when it focuses on leading man Oscar Isaac.

Set in 1981, one of the deadliest years in New York City's history, the film derives its central tension from its characters resisting violence, rather than engaging with it. Abel Morales (Isaac) is determined to expand his family oil business, even as unknown forces keep getting in the way. Though Morales' business, which he bought into, has a good reputation and threatens to eat away at the competition, a string of attacks threaten to wreck everything he's worked for. But Abel refuses to heed the advice of his fellow businessmen or the teamsters and arm his drivers and salesman. Even when an attack comes right to the Morales' doorstep and his wife Anna (Jessica Chastain) finds their youngest child playing with a loaded gun, Abel remains committed. Whatever illegal or ethically dubious details might be in his company's books, Abel refuses to go down a road that will turn him into an outright gangster.

Like some minor Sidney Lumet drama that the master never got to make, A Most Violent Year takes its time to build up its narrative momentum, allowing a few choice moments to really hit hard. Set up as a classic family-crime drama, Chandor fares far better when he just sticks to the business and crime angle than with the personal relationships. The more the film zeros in on Abel, the better the film works, whether in tense negotiations or a fantastic car-turned-foot chase. A Most Violent Year is easily Chandor's best work in terms of establishing a fully-realized world and infusing said world with a gripping atmosphere.

Yet it's Isaac who props the film up through its two hour duration. Doing a complete 180 from his breakout performance in Inside Llewyn Davis, Isaac brings a quiet confidence to Abel, even as the character endures various hardships and pressure from multiple angles. If Chandor is loosely channeling Lumet in A Most Violent Year, then Isaac's work calls to mind a young Al Pacino in his iconic collaborations with the director.

Isaac is so central to A Most Violent Year's success that it's disappointing to step back and realize how underserved the rest of the ensemble is. The most underwhelming is Chastain, especially given her top billing. In the scattered glimpses the film affords into Anna's personality, one can see the beginning of a red hot, scene-stealing performance. Instead, Chandor sidelines the character for long stretches of time, leaving Chastain with little to do other than pepper on a Brooklyn accent, be a little sassy, and let solitary tears streak down her face. Smaller supporting roles don't get much better. David Oyelowo, playing a D.A. investigating the Morales' business, has the makings of a compellingly ambiguous antagonist, but winds up with even less to do than Chastain. Albert Brooks, as the family's lawyer, has a few decent lines (and at least has enough to do), but more often than not he appears to be sleepwalking through his role. 

Compensating for the lackluster supporting characters, thankfully, are Chandor's work as a director on the big picture issues. However thin the characters, Chandor's work with his actors (Brooks aside) at least gives the impression that everyone is invested in their material, no matter how scant. And when it comes to Abel's story, the storytelling really clicks, tipping its hat to crime dramas of the 70s and early 80s without flailing around as a work of hollow mimicry (I'm looking at you, Blood Ties). 

The film is also a technical marvel, largely thanks to its visuals. With each passing film, cinematographer Bradford Young proves he's the real deal. The versatility he's displayed in such a short period of time is astounding, and his green and yellow tinted visuals here are some of his strongest to date. The choice to keep the camera slowly pushing forward heightens the underlying tension of the various forces inching Abel towards his breaking point. If Roger Deakins and Emmanuel Lubezki are the current kings of the cinematography world, then Mr. Young deserves to be named as their heir apparent. Returning Chandor composer Alex Ebert does a nice, albeit unmemorable job with scoring duties, while editing is smoothly handled. Beyond Young's contributions, the costume department deserves the most credit, subtly capturing the styles of the early 80s with sharp suits for the men and a few dynamite outfits for Chastain to strut around in.

Despite the promise of the title, A Most Violent Year is not an all out orgy of violence. Chandor takes the more interesting route, exploring how outside violence ensnares its protagonist pushing him deeper and deeper into a corner until he has to make a critical choice. Everything else around that dilemma may feel extraneous, but the main story is enough to maintain investment in Chandor's story. A Most Violent Year misses out on greatness, but its strengths - namely Isaac and Young - are prominent enough that it's worth a look, even with the weaker elements that are trapped in orbit around the strong center.

Grade: B

Review: "Drive"

When Nicholas Winding Refn took the Best Director prize at Cannes back in May, his victory was considered something of a surprise. Amid a sea of names like Von Trier, Malick, and Almodovar, the Finnish director had come out on top, not only with the prize, but with one of the festival's best reviewed films. That title seems to have been well earned, because, despite its mundane premise, Drive is a stellar piece of filmmaking.

Ryan Gosling stars as Driver, a Hollywood stuntman who moonlights as a getaway driver, until one particular job goes awry and things get complicated. On paper, it seems like a silly spin-off of the Fast and Furious franchise, which is already silly enough (albeit enjoyably so). But it's execution that matters, not the ideas on paper, and there's where Drive, thanks almost entirely to Mr. Refn, delivers in spades. Like Joe Wright's Hanna, Drive is something of an art-house action film, one that favors style over substance. And, like Wright's film, Refn's actually makes style over substance work in the best way possible.

Rather than fill the movie with endless car chases and noise, Drive's action scenes arise out of the plot (as opposed to the reverse, which is so common nowadays). They're well executed and stylish, but not so overly choreographed or over-the-top as to feel ludicrous. Refn, whose last film was the brutal and unsettling Bronson (2008) has toned down his flashier, fourth-wall-breaking impulses, yet the film is still immensely stylish. The script, by Hossein Amini (and adapted from James Sallis' novel), is light on dialogue, and truly acts as a skeleton. In different hands, the whole affair could have come off as empty, stiff, and bland. Refn and his cast, however, make sure that's not the case whatsoever.

Among the movie's many assets is Gosling as the nameless driver. The role, like the script, is little more than a skeleton, but the actor fills it out surprisingly well. At the offset, it's easy to be tricked into thinking that the performance is a lazy one. Quite the contrary; Gosling's portrayal is not necessarily complex or overly emotional, but his presence gives a strange sense of life to the role. In some scenes his eyes are almost hypnotic to watch (well, aside from the obvious reason), and one of his reaction shots after a moment of violence is excellent. We can connect with him, even though know almost nothing about him. Think of him as a nice version of No Country for Old Men's Anton Chigurh. Other roles are filled out nicely as well. Carey Mulligan and Oscar Isaac give nice turns as the driver's neighbors, the latter of whom has just been released from prison. Less successful are Ron Perlman and Mad Men's Christina Hendricks, although this is pretty much attributable to their limited screen time. In a movie with so little dialogue for certain roles, every second counts, and Perlman and Hendricks make it count, but there's not quite enough there for them to chew on. Albert Brooks, who has earned some whispers of Oscar buzz for his work, is effectively despicable as the film's eventual villain, but the real star of the supporting cast is Breaking Bad's Bryan Cranston, using his own limited time to create a surprisingly likable and sympathetic character.

The real star, however, is none of the people in front of the camera, but rather the man running the show; Mr. Refn himself. The characters may not have much in the way of depth, but Refn still allows us to spend plenty of time with them before the slide into violence. And once it hits its violent stride, Drive really takes off and makes its mark, mixing elements of crime dramas and 80s neo-noir. Like Bronson, some of Drive's images are graphically violent, but Refn refrains from shoving them in our faces. We'll get a quick glimpse or two, and then it's over, the editing and sound design taking over along with our imaginations. The violence also rises naturally out of the story, rather than for the sake of an overblown set piece.

Bolstered by excellent (albeit sometimes on-the-nose) soundtrack choices, and an atmospheric score from Cliff Martinez, Refn and DP Newton Thomas Sigel's images come vividly to life. The film make have the slightly washed out look of digital, but Refn and co. have made sure to fill the frame with enough color (including some hot-pink opening credits) to give the film a distinguishable look. Refn also knows how to use slow-motion effectively, to the point where the images captivate, rather than bore or become indulgent (are you listening, Zack Snyder?).

But how far can thin characters and style carry a film? If Drive and Hanna are any indications, then the answer is pretty damn far. Refn has made a film that uses its own understated sense of cool to lend the bone-dry script a sense of purpose. Drive has no deeper meaning, nor does it have a point to make; it's simply a story told well (and with more than a little panache). In a way, the style (some of which is its own restraint) almost is the substance, as nonsensical as that may seem. Rather that puff itself up into something bloated and over-the-top, Drive settles for the quiet, understated route, to become not only one of the best action films of the year, but one of the best, and certainly coolest, films of the year, period.

Grade: B+/A-