Review: "Silence"

Director: Martin Scorsese
Runtime: 161 minutes

Martin Scorsese has been grappling with his Catholic faith for his entire career, even when it seemed the least obvious. The intensity of his religious convictions, as well as the intensity of his questions and severe doubts, have manifested in ways both literal (The Last Temptation of the Christ) and abstract (Taxi Driver). Catholicism (or, in a sense, any faith) is the third pillar at the foundation of his filmmaking, seated right alongside masculinity and violence (and all of the intersections among the lot). 

Though Scorsese remains an impeccable craftsman, often invigorating his material with dynamism of someone decades younger, he has recently started to run on fumes when dealing with story's beyond their basic text. The Wolf of Wall Street tackles excess, but to the point of becoming excessive itself. Even Best Picture winner The Departed, though powerfully acted and edited, comes up short when one looks for something to chew on beyond the bloody bodycount. 

The apparent exhaustion of two of Scorsese's thematic pillars (well, for now) has left a clearing for capital F Faith to grab the spotlight all for itself. After an on-and-off journey of roughly 30 years, Scorsese has taken Shusaku Endo's novel "Silence" and brought it to life on the big screen. Here, the man who almost became a priest turns his camera to meet not just his maker, but the ideals and practices of those serving in his name. And, while not without its faults (largely at the outset), Silence ultimately proves itself to be a worthy landmark moment of the latter stages of Scorsese's career. Regardless of your religious persuasion (or lack thereof), there is a tremendous amount of value in the issues raised in this exhaustive and exhausting work of Catholic cinema. Though not the director's most polished or lush work, it more than compensates with its staggering devotion to crafting a drama filled with ideas about the earthly and the transcendent. 

Yet much like the film's journey to the big screen, Silence is not without its hiccups. The earliest passages, concerning Jesuit priests Rodrigues (Andrew Garfield) and Garrpe (Adam Driver) seeking out a former mentor in 17th century Japan, come off as stilted. Despite some striking, simple visuals, Silence begins by playing things in a strangely safe manner. At times, it even seems shockingly amateurish. Even longtime Scorsese editor (and basically co-director) Thelma Schoonmaker isn't immune, and turns in some of her weakest work to date. Simple conversations change angles with a frequency at odds with such contemplative subject matter. And Mr. Driver, though an intriguing casting choice, can't quite master what is supposed to be a Portuguese accent (the Portuguese characters speak in English). Early on, a few lines escape his throat like a squawk from a goose raised in the Bronx. Garfield generally fares better, though even he is not without his stilted moments. It's not an auspicious beginning, especially for a film that is so clearly a labor of passion. 

But the further the two Jesuits step into the so-called "swamp of Japan," the more Silence finds its footing. The beauty of Endo's novel, which Scorsese has wisely left intact, is its refusal to sugarcoat or simplify the conflicts at hand. And what conflicts they are. On the surface, Silence's tale involves priests administering aid to Japanese Christians living under persecution. In less enlightened times, such a socio-political conflict would have likely been sanded down to lift the Jesuits up as Christ-like figures. Scorsese includes such a moment, though it's hardly presented as sincere. Alone and starving, Fr. Rodrigues finds himself confronted with his reflection. After a moment, the face transforms into a familiar sight: a Goya painting of Christ's face which we've been shown as how Rodrigues imagines the Lamb of God in his prayers and meditations. Garfield, with his thin features and his hair grown out into a magnificent mane, makes a fitting vessel for this sort of transfiguration. 

The moment, alas, does not come greeted with a moment of intervention or inspiration. Rodrigues bursts into unsettling, hollow laughter. In his manic, dehydrated state, he seems ecstatic with such a vision, but the tone and timing suggests the sort of madness one would find in a 70s-era Herzog drama. Yet Scorsese curtails the sequence before such madness turns hallucinatory. Rodrigo Prieto's images, even at their most painterly, have an air of reality to them. The staging thrives on ordinariness, rather than elaborately constructed tableaus.

All the better, then, to enable the film to cut to the heart of its conflicts. Somewhere towards the middle (I think) of the film, Silence shifts from acting as a drama about the faithful, and morphs into a searing interrogation of men of the cloth and their motivations. Rodrigues meets a number of foils among the Japanese, chief among them a translator (Tadanobu Asano) and the inquisitor Inoue (Issei Ogata). Though radically different in their approaches, the two men proceed to challenge not just Rodrigues' convictions and his mission, but the core of Catholicism itself, as well as its place in a country like Japan. 

And it's here, when it's most bound to simple scenes of people talking, that Silence finally grasps the intangible profundity it's been reaching for the whole time. Asano and Ogata make excellent philosophical adversaries for Garfield's Rodrigues, with Ogata in particular relishing every word (among his most notable jabs: "the price for your glory is their suffering.") So many faith-based films use Christian conviction as a crutch, including this year's Hacksaw Ridge, which also planted Mr. Garfield at the center. With that baseline established, a film like Silence becomes all the more remarkable. Here is a drama with source material from a Catholic writer (albeit a Japanese convert, and not a European), directed by a passionately Catholic director, that avoids turning its protagonists into the one-note martyrs they secretly wish to be. 

The most magnificent wrench of all, however, comes in the form of Fr. Ferreira (Liam Neeson, thankfully not even attempting the accent). In addition to administering to the persecuted faithful, Rodrigues and Garrpe have snuck into Japan to seek out their former mentor, who has been rumored to have renounced the faith and taken up life as an ordinary member of Japanese society. Ferreira's eventual return to the narrative (best left unsaid) gives Silence a final headbutt of ambiguity, heightening the specificity of the film's conflicts, while simultaneously making them all the more universal. Neeson, in his all-too-brief screen time, is nothing short of mesmerizing. In such quick moments, he conveys Ferreira's decades of work in Japan, and the toll it took on him. Ferreira's exploits could have easily been their own film, and the way Neeson takes the bones of Scorsese and Jay Cocks' script and turns it into its own meal is nothing short of astonishing. It's a masterful moment of teaching both for Rodrigues and the viewer, the complexity of which has stayed with me long after the lights went up in the theater.

In my four years at a Jesuit-led high school, one of the theological ideas that I remember most is that faith without room for doubt is not really faith, but merely blind obedience. That remarkably nuanced notion, standing in such stark contrast to the right wing extremists now posturing as 21st century moralists, has stayed with me even as whatever religion I had slipped away. And, whatever my personal beliefs now, that Catholic and Jesuit identity (hello, Catholic guilt, you old bastard) is still etched, however faintly, in my being. To see that same sort of depth is a monumental intellectual achievement, one that overrides the vagueries that somewhat plague the central role of Rodrigues (he is both an individual and a representative of the faith as a whole, though not quite to the degree where it feels possible to empathize with him enough). With such a long wait, it would be tempting to hold Silence to the standard that anything less than a masterpiece would be a letdown. To do so, I think, would be to dismiss the tremendous accomplishments on display. Rodrigues and Garrpe may find themselves starving, but their story is veritable feast of ideas, the strengths of which are made all the more powerful by their existence alongside the flaws. 


Grade: B+

Review: "The Amazing Spider-Man 2"

Director: Marc Webb
Runtime: 142 minutes

For a movie as jam-packed with incident as The Amazing Spider-Man 2, it's frustrating how little any of it lingers once the lights go up. Coming off of 2012's decently received Spidey reboot, this sequel goes for the bigger-is-better approach, and ends up doing very little. The cluttered script and awkward tonal shifts keep the web-slinger's new outing grounded, despite the barrage of VFX-heavy stunts.

With two sequels already set (for 2016 and 2018), Spider-Man 2 feels like nothing more than empty set-up for future installments. Worse, neither the villains nor the personal drama has any weight to it until the final minutes. Main villain Electro (Jamie Foxx), a timid scientist who is transformed into a being of pure electricity, is as half-baked as they come. Additional villains Harry Osborn (Dane Dehaan) and the Rhino (Paul Giamatti, used for bookends rather than plot), follow suit.

And as much as the writing and directing deserve blame for the failure of the story's villains, the quality of the acting isn't doing the film any favors either. Foxx starts as a cartoonishly mannered nerd (one obsessed with Spider-Man), before evolving into a flashy stock character with a digitally altered voice. The idea that hell hath no fury like an adoring nerd scorned is alright, but the execution here pales in comparison to, say, Pixar's The Incredibles. 

Even more disappointing is DeHaan, who doesn't have the right charisma or presence to capture whatever the script wants Harry to be. DeHaan's mannerisms suggest a damaged, yet cocky, emo kid, yet the writing gives him a persona that seems more in line with a WASP-y jock. This results in some truly baffling acting choices that only further the idea that the script had no idea what it was really going for with its characters. As for Paul Giamatti and a cameo performance from Marton Csokas as a German scientist, the less said, the better. 

The saving grace, though just barely, are the interactions between Peter Parker/Spider-Man (Andrew Garfield) and Gwen Stacy (Emma Stone), as well as those between Peter and Aunt May (Sally Field). Though Peter and Gwen's exchanges sometimes clash with the drama around them (they often stammer as though in a parody of indie rom-coms), the actors remain charming to watch as they play off of each other. Despite still being wasted as the hero's girlfriend, Stone emerges as the film's MVP, and proves that she deserves better than the mess around her. 

Only at the climax does Webb's film really come alive. Despite the heavy reliance on VFX stunts, the final battles are actually engaging, though this has more to do with Garfield and Stone's presence than the conflict between hero and nemesis. In the only noticeable improvement from the previous Spidey entry, the effects and overall sense of movement of the digital action figures has much more fluidity. The big moment at the end also packs a genuine emotional punch, at least ensuring that the film (more or less) ends with its best foot forward. 

Yet, like the previous "amazing" Spider-Man flick, the whole enterprise still feels wholly unnecessary other than as a reason for Sony to hold onto the rights to the title character. Aside from one major moment, this bloated sequel accomplishes remarkably. It feels like an attempt to re-do the previous film (the revelations about Peter's parents), while also pushing forward with its own world-building (future villains). It's a film at odds with itself at every turn, and that's something that all of the flashy effects and high-flying stunts can't conceal. 

Grade: D+

Review: "The Amazing Spider-man"

With only 10 years separating Marc Webb's The Amazing Spider-man from Sam Raimi's Spiderman, and only five years between Webb's film and Raimi's last Spidey flick, it's easy to understand complaints regarding Sony's decision to reboot the character so quickly (origin story and all). Despite the crashing disaster that was Spider-man 3, Raimi's first two films were both big hits and popular with the public (and even the third made bucket-loads at the box office). Even if the reboot was good, there was still one critical question: was another stab at the origin story necessary so soon? The answer remains 'no,' but in fairness, Webb's reboot is mostly a success even as it's forced to hit so many of the same story beats. 


Having made his name with (500) Days of Summer (2009), Webb wasn't the most obvious choice for the job. However, his skills with emotion and his surprising flair with action set pieces make me hope that he'll stick around for the rest of this Spider-man series. Even when Peter Parker/Spider-man (Andrew Garfield) is battling the hulking Lizard (Rhys Ifans) in close quarters, Webb and his camera team nimbly capture both figures (and their CGI avatars) with a herky-jerky sense of movement that proves surprisingly effective and actually allows you to see what's going on. Webb also deserves credit (though I suppose some of this belongs to the script as well) for giving audiences the best obligatory Stan Lee cameo, working it fluidly into an action scene in a way  that proves hilarious.


And speaking of humor, that's another thing this Spider-man has going for it. Raimi's films were never devoid of humor (or attempts at humor), but much of it felt somewhat like pandering. Here, Peter Parker/Spider-man himself is allowed to either be funny or be in funny situations, and it pays off. Whether he's quipping while battling a carjacker or satisfying some spider bite-induced munchies, the sense of humor feels more organic, built more out of the situations than in some desperate attempt to keep the proceedings from becoming "too grown up."


Of course, funny lines or scenes can exist on the page, but can be horribly botched if the person involved in them on screen isn't pulling their weight. Thankfully, Garfield carries the humor off with great skill, using his spindly frame to perfect effect. Like Webb's film, Garfield is generally adept at both drama and comedy, though it has moments where it falters. Emma Stone as love-interest Gwen Stacy remains as engaging as ever, even though she's technically not given much to do despite abundant screen time. Sally Field and Martin Sheen also give nice, albeit limited, turns as Peter's aunt May and uncle Ben. Rhys Ifans is certainly convincing as Dr. Connors, the man who eventually becomes the Lizard, even though the script's developments with him are among the film's weakest.


The script, unfortunately, provides the film with its best and worst elements, particularly when it comes to the story elements that are being redone. The changes to Peter's personality work wonders, but other aspects, like the demise of uncle Ben, feel so much weaker. The staging of the robbery that eventually leads to Ben's death in Raimi's film had enough separation in it so that it really hit home when Peter discovered what happened. Here, the scenario feels contrived, with Ben trying to chase down Peter to talk to him, only to have him run into the robber who delivers his untimely death sentence. On the super hero front, the script often seems completely unconcerned with the general reaction of New York City to Parker's web slinging alter ego. Yes, the NYPD puts out a warrant for his arrest, but other than that, one never gets a sense of the masked hero's developing notoriety. 


The same can also be said for the developments regarding the Dr. Connors/Lizard, who seems to lurch from one big moment to the next. And when the two collide, things get even shakier, with Peter's realization that Connors is the Lizard feeling like a minor development when it should be so much more. Webb generally controls the tone effectively, but there are scenes where it all feels a little too casual considering the stakes. Even the vastly better romantic subplot with Parker and Stacy occasionally becomes too forced and cutesy, with both of them awkwardly/adorably stammering at each other to the point where you want to shake their lines out of them. And for all of Garfield's good scenes on the dramatic front, there are a few where his emoting feels distressingly weak. 


Thankfully, these are problems that get better as the film progresses. Webb has crafted a slick, emotionally engaging film, one that would have been so much better if it hadn't felt the need to cover the origin story again. It's the familiar that keeps The Amazing Spider-man from reaching its full potential, which is a shame because of the strengths clearly on display. One can only hope that the inevitable sequel will, like Spider-man 2, significantly raise the bar for this new series.


Grade: B-/C+

Reboot Central: "The Amazing Spiderman" and "The Bourne Legacy" Trailers

When Sony first announced that it would scrap Spiderman 4 in favor of a series reboot, I thought it was one of the dumbest big studio decisions in quite some time. Spiderman 3 wasn't exactly, er, good, but it wasn't bad enough to kill the Raimi-helmed franchise. Sony continued with the plan, and after months of on-set photos and a brief teaser (featuring some bizarre first person footage), a proper trailer has arrived, and it's pretty solid all around. I have to admit, I really like this more sarcastic, humorous Peter Parker/Spiderman; not all heroes need to brood and sulk in existential crisis 24/7. And as much as I love this cast and the inclusion of the Lizard (Rhys Ifans) as a villain, there's a certain punch that's missing from the action shots. Part of this is likely due to the fact that the film is still in post-production, where additional sound mixing and VFX work will be done. Even so, what we're given here looks like more of the same, and still brings up that initial question: why do we need to start this story over, despite the different characters? While I'm glad that the trailer doesn't focus on the origin story part of the film, part of the result is that one simply wishes that Raimi had been given the chance to make another good Spidey film, one free of the studio meddling that sank Spiderman 3 (critically/fan-wise, at least).

Trailer Grade: B

Also being given a major make over: the Bourne franchise. No, Jeremy Renner isn't the new Jason Bourne, but his character - Aaron Cross - is part of the same story. In fact, many characters, including those played by Albert Finney, David Strathairn, and Joan Allen, are all back along with new faces like Edward Norton and Rachel Weisz. Though the trailer itself doesn't have as much footage, I like how this one pulls out its reveal gradually, and builds an intriguing set up: Jason Bourne's story was only the beginning. So even though Damon and director Paul Greengrass are gone, the smart and talented Tony Gilroy (who wrote the first three Bourne films along with writing and directing Michael Clayton) is a comforting replacement in the director's chair. Renner is another plus, a strong actor who can be the character actor or the leading man (or both), as well as a convincing thinking man's action hero.

Trailer Grade: A-

Teaser Trailer: "The Amazing Spiderman" (2012)

Summer 2011 sure is taking a lot of time preparing us for summer 2012. Whether it's the teaser for Pixar's Brave, the build-up movies for The Avengers, or the just-released The Dark Knight Rises teaser, Hollywood can't wait for next summer. Joining that roster, after months of shooting and only a few publicity stills, is Marc Webb's The Amazing Spiderman, which recasts Andrew Garfield in the role of Peter Parker/Spiderman. Though it could be a nice, fresh start after the dismal Spiderman 3 (2007), the biggest obstacle Webb's film has is that it's taking us through the origin story AGAIN. I understand the desire to create a new universe and atmosphere, but couldn't it have been done without hitting the reset button? Still, the cast is intriguing (Emma Stone and Rhys Ifans basically ensure that I'll see this), and I'm curious about the last segment of the trailer, which takes us into first person mode. Even if Webb's Spiderman isn't quite 'amazing,' at least it looks like something different from the Raimi films.

Spiderman: Turn On the Reboot

Spiderman has been receiving a lot of press as of late, both good and bad. On the Great White Way, Julie Taymor's U2-penned musical "Spiderman: Turn Off the Dark" has suffered delay after delay after delay (delay could also be switched out for 'disaster'). Cast members have been injured or have left all together, and despite good notices for the stunts (when they, y'know...work), the production has been troubled to say the least.

Thankfully, not all is bad for the famed web-slinger. After months of collective head scratching over the decision to reboot the franchise instead of create a proper 4th film, the first still of our new Spidey, Andrew Garfield, in costume has emerged.

Garfield is certainly lankier in frame than Tobey Maguire, but despite my initial doubts, the suit actually looks convincing on him. Judging by the state of the costume and the downcast look, it's safe to assume that this shot comes from a rather dark moment in the story (unless this turns out to be nothing more than a publicity still). But the real test Marc Webb's (500 Days of Summer) will face will be whether it can make audiences go back to the beginning with Peter Parker for a second time. Granted, Batman Begins had no problems doing this, but in that case, the Batman films had become a complete joke. Despite the lackluster reception of Spiderman 3, the film made bucket loads of money, unlike Batman & Robin.

And even though this is a reboot, the film won't be exactly the same story. A look at the cast list reveals that Rhys Ifans is Dr. Curt Connors, AKA the Lizard. This is somewhat appropriate seeing as Dr. Connors (played originally by Dylan Baker) was rumored to become the Lizard in the 4th Spidey film before it fell apart. In fact, looking at the cast list, there's no one listed as playing Harry or Norman Osbourne, the roles inhabited by James Franco and Willem Dafoe in the original trilogy. And as far as love interests, all we have now is Gwen Stacy (Emma Stone), with no one cast as Mary Jane Watson.

So even though the there's obvious that plenty will be different, there's bound to be uncertainty about this project until it finally hits screens...or until the first fan-boy reviews leak from any test screenings conducted by Sony. Either way, we'll have to wait until 2012 to find out exactly what Marc Webb and Garfield have come up with. Just please, please don't let it be even remotely like 3. We can't go through that mess again.

"Red Riding: 1974" - REVIEW

While not exactly the happiest way to ring in the new year (cinematically speaking, at least; I've got a glass of champagne with me as I write this), I'm pleased to say that my last official viewing for the 2010 calendar year is a very good one. While I'm sure I could take a moment to speculate as to how watching a film that's the first in a trilogy is somehow thematically relevant to something in movies this year or even in my personal life, I won't because well, that's just cloying. Rather, let's get to the film I watched today to close out 2010:

Based on a series of horrifying true events in England, the Red Riding trilogy's first installment, directed by Julian Jarrold, begins in 1974. A young girl has vanished, the latest in a series of missing child cases. Journalist Eddie Dunford decides to investigate the disappearance, and in doing so unlocks an increasingly dark and sinister web of corruption in Britain's police force. Like 2007's excellent Zodiac, Red Riding is one of those detailed crime dramas that at times threatens to sink under the weight of the details, both known and unknown. But what makes this film different from Fincher's San Francisco-set tale is that we never see anything bad happen, at least, not to the victims. Dunford takes quite a beating in his quest to find the truth, but the film itself doesn't punctuate its main story with horrific side trips. And yet Jarrold's entry in the trilogy (based on David Peace's novel) is a steadily paced, yet engaging way to kick off what is sure to be an increasingly complex narrative.

While the performances are strong - Garfield is quietly sympathetic and Rebecca Hall continues her 2010 winning streak - Red Riding succeeds more in its craftsmanship. While it by no means rushes through the plot, the screenplay and the editing keep the scenes and story moving along at just the right pace to hold interest. We start, like Eddie, aloof and not terribly involved in the case of the disappearing girls, but little by little the film draws you in. Revelations are never sensationalized or turned into moments of high drama. Instead, Jarrold directs the flow of events with a calm, understated hand. His goal here isn't so much to dwell on the "oh the horror!" aspect of the crimes, but rather root us in the position of Dunford, a man slowly coming to terms with the fact that there's more to the vanished girls than a single predator.

This is beautifully echoed in the the film's greatest strength, Rob Hardy's brilliant cinematography. Hardy has a gift with framing, and makes even the most plain and ugly 70s architecture interesting to look at. More important though, is how often he uses limited focal range, sometimes leaving only a small portion of the frame sharp. Sometimes it's simply a stylistic choice, but in other scenes there's a nice complimentary feeling of Dunford's (and our) inability to see the whole picture. In what could have been a rather ordinarily shot film, Hardy's beautifully composed images lend this gritty story a sense of richness, without "softening" the ugliness.

Yet while the screenplay is generally strong, and is well handled by both director and actors, it occasionally throws in one too many details. A vaguely sketched out subplot involving the recent death of Eddie's father and his relationship with his mother don't entirely work, especially in one distracting and bizarrely edited scene that never clearly establishes whether it's a dream, hallucination, or reality. This issue, though, along with the film sometimes keeping us an inch too far out of the loop, seems relatively minor by the film's end. Like the rest of the film, the finale keeps a level head without reducing the impact, and the final sequence is a thing of beauty. And whether or not parts 2 and 3 live up to this first installment, Jarrold and crew can be proud that they've made a film that, while ambiguous at its end, still feels complete and satisfying.

Grade: B+

"Never Let Me Go" - REVIEW

At the outset of Never Let Me Go, Mark Romanek and Alex Garland's adaptation of Kazuo Ishiguro's acclaimed 2005 novel, we're told in title cards that "the breakthrough came in 1952," and that "life expectancy jumped to roughly 100." The story then jumps into the mid 1980s. But make no mistake; you'll find nothing remotely futuristic to look at in this understated tale of love and betrayal. What you'll find instead, is a mostly successful adaptation of a novel that was perhaps not meant entirely for the screen.

Kathy H (Carey Mulligan), Ruth (Keira Knightley), and Tommy (Andrew Garfield) spend their child hood years at Hailsham, and elite boarding school for similar special children. As they are told by headmistress Miss Emily (Charlotte Rampling), "keeping yourselves healthy is of paramount importance." But why? What is so special about these kids? While the fates of the children are described thanks to fellow teacher Miss Lucy's (Sally Hawkins) breakdown, they're never given a special name. You'll also notice, and this isn't a spoiler, that they don't seem to ever give a moment's thought to running away, merely delaying a fate they've been conditioned to accept. Despite the vaguest trapping of science fiction, Ishiguro's work, and Romanek's film in turn, is still very much a romance and a tragedy, one with the stiffest of upper lips.

And it's precisely that stiff upper lip, combined with the aforementioned lack of sci-fi tropes, that seems to have made Never Let Me Go so divisive. Having read the novel, I think it's a good adaptation of the novel, but not a great one, though it does capture the novel's essence and mood. Never Let Me Go may involve a built-in tragic device, but Romanek and writer Alex Garland don't seem concerned with yanking out buckets of our tears, as was the case with the novel. This sort of film belongs in a weird sub-genre of quiet heartbreakers. Those that stir some feeling within, but never with so much attachment or manipulation so as to make you reach that breaking point and feel tears flow freely down your cheeks. That said, I can certainly see where someone would find this style detrimental to the film as a whole. Case in point: the friend I saw the film with, whose first words as the lights went up were, "ugh, really?"

Somewhat more agreeable, though, are the performances. Beautifully cast from its trio of lead young-adults, to the smaller adult roles filling out the periphery, one of Never Let Me Go's strengths comes from its acting. Mulligan, so good last year in An Education, makes another impressive turn here, although I wish she hadn't been tasked with so much narration. Backing her up with surprising strength are Garfield, also enjoying good reviews for The Social Network, and Keira Knightley, in her best performance since her Oscar-nominated turn in Pride and Prejudice (2005). Playing a surprisingly unsympathetic character, Knightley is the movie's biggest surprise, and a standout in the cast. Smaller adult roles, like those played by Rampling and Hawkins, are well handled, although Rampling's "big scene" feels somewhat mishandled in terms of timing. And before I forget, I must give kudos to the casting team for doing a brilliant job of picking counterpart actors to play Mulligan/Knightley/Garfield in their Hailsham days; fabulous casting.

Technically and artistically, the cast are backed up by two standouts. First is Rachel Portman's lovely score, even if it does occasionally start a hint too suddenly or play just a half-notch too loudly. More impressive is Adam Kimmel's lovely cinematography, filled with striking (yet somehow subdued) interiors and landscapes that posses a muted sort of beauty, even if there are a handful too many shots of singular tears rolling down Mulligan's heartbreakingly expressive face.

Obviously it's not for everyone, not even fans of the book. I find it weird that in so many of these divisive films which provoke such strong reactions ("BRILLIANT!" "GOD-AWFUL!"), I usually land in the middle (ex: The Fountain, which I merely liked, not loved or hated), and Never Let Me Go is no exception. It is mostly very true to its source material, brilliantly cast, gorgeously composed, and strongly acted, and yet it carries a most curious level of emotional impact along with it, one that I sometimes feel should have remained on the page, in spite of all of the film's strengths.

Grade: B-