Review: "Olive Kitteridge"

Director: Lisa Cholodenko
Runtime (233 minutes/4 episodes)

TV has been in its current Golden Age for quite a while now, but the medium has never been more respected than now. Movies and miniseries for TV are attracting Oscar-winning names, and playing at film festivals as they scoop up hoards of Emmy Awards. Last year, HBO's Behind the Candelabra played at Cannes, opened theatrically in Europe, and aired as a TV movie in the US. The lines between the prestige levels of TV and film have never been more blurred, and it's glorious. 

The latest example of TV's ascension as a storytelling medium comes not in the form of a movie, but a four hour miniseries titled Olive Kitteridge. A miniseries that had its world premiere at the Venice Film Festival alongside films like Birdman. Fittingly, the beautiful opening credits of Olive's four episodes include the credit "A Film by Lisa Cholodenko." Cholodenko, who's been relatively quiet since her acclaimed indie The Kids Are All Right (2010), has moved from the big to the small screen, yet her talents as a director have never felt larger. Bolstered by a bracing, complex performance from Frances McDormand and a magnificent script, Olive Kitteridge is one of the best things any TV channel or movie studio has turned out all year. 

Adapted from Elizabeth Strout's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, Cholodenko's film/miniseries/whatever starts modestly, but quickly grows into a rich portrait of life, loss, and marriage. Olive and Henry Kitteridge (McDormand and Richard Jenkins) live in rural Maine, where she teaches math and he owns the local pharmacy. Henry is absolutely beloved by the townsfolk. He's a kind soul, always ready to offer comfort to those even remotely down. Olive is....the opposite. Perhaps it's best to describe her as complicated. While not evil, Olive has a bluntness and a candor about her that is about as far away from her warm and cuddly husband as humanly possible. Part of this is the depression (runs in the family), although she doesn't mind. For Olive, depression is just a sign of intelligence.

By contrast, many of the denizens of Olive's world are considerably more upbeat and, as Olive sees them, less astute. Writer Jane Anderson never goes out of the way to validate Olive's tough perspective, but she hardly waves a finger at her either. Anderson, Cholodenko, and McDormand don't care if you like Olive. The character certainly doesn't give a damn, so why should they?

Despite her prickly personality, however, Olive's complexities are remarkably easy to watch. McDormand works the role so thoroughly on her weathered, expressive face that any issues one may have with the character's personality soon become afterthoughts. Clearly, Henry has seen something in Olive that makes her worth sticking with, even when her remarks border on cruel. Eventually, you will too. 

Just in case Olive proves to be too much at the start, Anderson and Cholodenko wisely keep the first installment focused more on Henry. Jenkins is a great fit for the role, and taps into Henry's charm and occasional mushiness without becoming overbearing. His efforts to stick up for mousey-looking local pushover Denise (Zoe Kazan) are met with derision from Olive, but he persists, becoming a loose father figure to the young woman. Were it not for the age difference, Henry and Denise would be a perfect couple. But affairs aren't something either of the Kitteridge's meddle in, though at times it seems like it might be for the best. So much is withheld in Olive and Henry's marriage, often resulting in unnecessary pain that lasts years. 

That pain is difficult for the characters to endure, but it makes for engrossing drama thanks to the commitment from the actors and the maturity of the writing and directing. Olive Kitteridge covers 25 years in total, and its handling of the central marriage is one of the most thorough and complete renderings in recent memory. In The Kids Are All Right, Cholodenko also tackled the notion that long marriages are hard, but the tidy resolution of everything bordered on simplification. Here, the director is able to investigate a marriage that's not only long, but also quite difficult, without having to rush anything. The series' four hours mostly fly by, even with all of the terrible things that happen as time goes on.

And even though Olive's behavior is relatively consistent, it is far from repetitive. There are no easy explanations for Olive's mindset, but given the time it has to develop, McDormand is able to create a rich character. The sense of humor on display is dry and dark, turning insults or dismissive remarks into gut-busting hilarity. When Olive takes out a jar of peanuts in the middle of her son Chris' (John Gallagher Jr.) wedding, it's played as straight as possible, a perfect slice of deadpan humor.

As much as Olive Kitteridge is a film about marriage, it's also a film about being a parent. After Henry, the most compelling supporting character is the adult version of her son, who goes through his own share of ups and downs. Things between mother and child are often tense, since Chris harbors quite a bit of resentment towards his mother (some of it quite justified). The eventual emotional explosions that take place between the two could have easily disrupted the story's subtlety, but McDormand and Gallagher are both so grounded in their roles that there's never a false moment. Olive's parenting doesn't get nearly as much attention as her role as a wife, yet the two actors are entirely convincing in their portrayal of the relationship. Olive Kitteridge's big flare ups are rare, but when they arrive, they come as thoughtfully constructed developments of plot and character.

Though the source material was more of an ensemble piece, the decision to zero-in on Olive as a protagonist couldn't have been a smarter choice. Olive is the story's anchor, but she's never left behind as a passive character. It helps that McDormand, who should probably prep her Emmy speech now, couldn't be better in the role. Olive's appearance doesn't change much (makeup and hair styling are minimal), but the emotional weight of the character's actions are all the actress needs to get to this woman's thorny center. Every retort, outburst, and curt remark is expertly delivered. More impressive is how well McDormand is able to tap into Olive's own strange definition of love and warmth, and gives real weight to some of the story's most poignant scenes. It's hard to get to Olive. She takes most things like a stone battered by waves. Yet even the mightiest rocks start to wear away by the smallest amounts, and the way McDormand communicates this is often astounding. 

Cholodenko and her collaborators do an excellent job of backing up the cast and the material. In the director's chair, Cholodenko never strains the story's big moments, avoiding unnecessary melodrama. Her work with cinematographer Frederick Elmes has a rich, overcast look that captures the Maine settings without getting in the way of the story. And Cholodenko's work with her actors, even those in smaller roles, is first rate from start to finish. Longtime Coen brothers' composer Carter Burwell gently adds to the story's emotional arcs with minimalist musical contributions, along with a beautiful and mournful tune for the opening credits sequence. Costuming, make up, and set design convey the passage of time seamlessly.

On the surface, Olive Kitteridge's story doesn't exactly demand to be filmed. It's quite easy to imagine a stage version of the novel. But in going the cinematic (televisual?) route, Cholodenko is able to flesh out the minor details of Olive and Henry's life without going overboard. There's a quietness to this story that demands the dark intimacy of a theater or TV room, where the sense of time and place can act as the gently all-encompassing backdrop to the deeply felt human drama at the center. As far as character studies go, film and TV rarely get much better.

Grade: A

Review: "The Monuments Men"

Director: George Clooney
Runtime: 118 minutes

Even at just two hours, The Monuments Men feels longer than World War II itself. There is fascinating history in this story, but draggy pacing and a lack of stakes quickly drown this star-studded endeavor. Director and co-writer George Clooney has assembled a big name cast who are all dressed up with nowhere to go, even in a story set against WWII and the last days of the Third Reich. Neither convincingly dramatic nor sufficiently comedic, The Monuments Men is a misfire that casts significant doubts on Clooney's abilities behind the camera.

Rather than sit through The Monuments Men, you'd be better off watching the excellent documentary The Rape of Europa. Despite all of the big names and Hollywood gloss, Clooney's film is strangely inert from the get go. By contrast, the Europa doc is a fascinating, gripping account of an often-overlooked episode in the second World War. 

To call the characters in The Monuments Men underdeveloped would be an understatement. They are barely sketches. Even in the hands of a talented ensemble, the painfully thin writing is nothing but a hindrance. A good third, maybe even half, of the film is meant to be something of a comedy, but the results are often as flat as day-old Coke. Matt Damon, always watchable, is essentially human cardboard. He's not helped by the way the film sidelines his subplot for long stretches, to the point where it feels like years have passed each time we check in on him.

Meanwhile, Bill Murray and Bob Balaban are stuck with unbearably forced comedic relief, none of which is helped by the painful amount of time between lines of dialogue. For a film that should have such significant stakes, it's somewhat astonishing how badly Clooney botches the pacing here. Motivations are nonexistent, as is character development. What we're left with is a middling slog of a history lesson with nothing left to offer either historically or cinematically. Moments that should land hard evoke mere shrugs, while the overall impact of the journey is reduced to, "art is kind of important, no?"

But the biggest offender of all is just how self-congratulatory the whole enterprise feels. A few lines about the importance of art are merely tossed off, and this alone is supposed to make the whole journey mean something Important. Yet when a character stares in awe at an abandoned Rodin sculpture, there's no reason to care or share in that moment of awe. This same level of laziness is present from the get-go, which makes all two hours of The Monuments Men crawl by through an interminable series of episodes. The Monuments Men make look the part, but, as a film, it has all of the worth of warm champagne without any bubbles. 

Grade: C-/D+

Cannes '12 Review: "Moonrise Kingdom" [Competition]

If you gave up on trying to like Wes Anderson a long time ago, his latest, the Cannes opener Moonrise Kingdom, will do nothing to change your opinion. If you're a fan or somewhat indifferent, however, the New England-set coming of age comedy will likely prove to be, at the very least, a charming outing, whether or not it sticks with you long after the credits roll. Set in New Penzance Island at the end of summer, Kingdom follows two children - Sam (Jared Gilman) and Suzy (Kara Hayward) - who decide to run away together. This, of course, doesn't go unnoticed, and soon the island's quirky residents, old and young, are off to find the duo. 


As is common in Anderson's films, the images are calm, steady, bright, and colorful, and the characters all seem to be various incarnations of their upfront and deadpan writer/creator. This upfront attitude carries through the entire narrative, as Sam and Suzy decide to leave together without a moment's hesitation, their faces stoic and determined. As is common with comedies like this, the children are acting like spontaneous adults, while the adults are often stuck acting like big cartoonish children.


 Under Anderson's guidance, the film's pleasures come more from the scenes with the younger actors - Gilman and Hayward have natural introvert oddball presences - and their adventures. In addition to Sam and Suzy's pre-teen romance, the story also follows a group of young boys (Sam's former camp-mates) who go off to find the duo claiming that they don't intend on embarking on the search unarmed (cue the one laugh-out-loud moment: the group of boys marching into the woods with ludicrous makeshift weapons). Leave these adventures mostly on their own, and you have the potential for a bizarre and oddly winning story of childhood romance and adventure. Distinct as Anderson's voice may be, enough of the material resonates enough to ensure either laughs or general amusement. And, by downplaying the nature of Sam and Suzy's statuses as outsiders, certain moments that are strikingly adult come as genuine, well-earned surprises that further enforce the children-as-adults dynamic.


Less satisfying are the adults, who, despite being given equally vague characters, somehow feel weirdly distanced from the movie. A subplot involving Suzy's mother (Frances McDormand) and her affair with a nerdy cop (Bruce Willis), feels too minor, even as they play into the film's themes of growing up. The story ultimately belongs to the kids, so as fun as it is to see McDormand, Willis, Edward Norton, Bill Murray, and Tilda Swinton (only referred to as Social Services and nothing more) on screen together, not much comes of it, even at the literally stormy climax. 


But if the adult-starring scenes are the weakest, the film does build to a strangely affecting climax. It's both eccentric and quietly touching, even as it also registers as completely superficial, which is both a good and bad thing. Even for those left unmoved, however, there are other things to enjoy, like the meticulous production design, warm summery visuals, a killer soundtrack, and Alexandre Desplat's rousing score. The constant pacing, efficient but never rushed, is also a plus, and helps the story maintain a nice momentum over its clean 90 minute duration. Few will be blown away by Moonrise Kingdom, save for the most diehard Anderson devotees, but there is more than enough here, both technically and emotionally, to ensure that many will at least have an enjoyable experience.


Grade: B/B+

"Get Low" - REVIEW

Somewhere in the first, more jovial half of Aaron Schneider's Get Low, Felix Bush (Robert Duvall) is asked by a radio interviewer, "How are you, sir?" to which Bush responds, "...I am." A similar answer is what best sums up this interesting but unremarkable film. Were someone to ask me directly "So how is Get Low?" I would simply pause and say, "...it is." Schneider's film, about an old hermit who wants to have a (live) funeral party so that people can tell stories about him has an interesting premise, and carries itself well for most of the ride. Duvall leads a cast of good and solid performances (save for Bill Murray, who sputters out into laziness two thirds of the way through), but neither he nor his co-stars (even Sissy Spacek) can make the film rise above its ordinary execution. Characters are put front and center here, but they aren't given a terrible amount of depth, especially Lucas Black's funeral parlor worker, who has a more prominent role than I expected.

Still, to the film's credit, its pacing is generally efficient and it never descends into territory such that it becomes bad; it settles into the category of a mildly pleasant diversion (with a few good laughs) and never strives to be anything else. The only hiccup is the ending, which feels strangely unsatisfying considering the build up. Upon further reflection, there's no reason for Felix to have his funeral party for a larger crowd of people, unless it's supposed to show us that he's eccentric. But Schneider and his writers never give us much insight into the other facets of the aging hermit; the entire film is built around Bush's confrontation with his past and his inability to communicate it in a normal way. I could make some snide remark about how the film "should have stayed six feet under," but that would be beyond overkill. This isn't offensive or poor film making/writing. It's just, to beat a rapidly dying horse, extremely ordinary and unworthy of any sort of acclaim, save for (just maaaaaaaybe) its lead performance.

Grade: C/C+