Review: "Inside Llewyn Davis"

Director(s): Joel and Ethan Coen
Runtime: 105 minutes

Though undoubtedly a small movie, it would be a mistake to dismiss Inside Llewyn Davis, Joel and Ethan Coen's folk music character study, as a forgettable or minor work in their careers. Firmly anchored by Oscar Isaac's lead performance, this melancholy story is filled with typical Coen quirks, yet ventures into a level of sincerity the brothers rarely tackle. Bound to deepen upon reflection and/or repeated viewings, this deceptively small movie makes its mark thanks to its gently played undercurrent of resilience in the face of sadness.

The titular Llewyn Davis (Isaac) likely won't go down as one of the Coen's more likable protagonists. Though certainly no villain, Llewyn is a great deal less sympathetic than the brother's last lead, True Grit's Mattie Ross. Though he's far from old, Llewyn carries himself like a man who's already been pushed to wit's end (this is nicely complimented by Bruno Delbonnel's blue-hued, wintery images). When we first meet him, Llewyn is singing his heart out into a microphone, and for a while it looks like he's performing in a vacuum as he pours out his soul. As the scene pulls back, however, we see that all of Llewyn's passion is being put forth in a dingy bar, with an audience that is appreciative and engaged, but not exactly enraptured. Llewyn's doing his best to communicate the only way he really knows how, but the gulf between artist and audience is quite a large one.

If Llewyn's interaction with his audience is lacking, his ability to interact with friends and family is even more dire. There are friends like Jim (Justin Timberlake) and Mitch (Ethan Phillips), but they seem like distance acquaintances at best (although not too distant that Llewyn won't abuse their hospitality). Then there are people like Jim's wife Jean (Carey Mulligan), who rightfully has nothing but contempt for Llewyn or anything he stands for. Through a series of tautly written, intelligently acted scenes, the Coens establish a whole host of relationships from Llewyn's POV, thus firmly planting him in his head. We spend time viewing events from his perspective, even as the direction is wise enough to avoid siding with Llewyn's thoughts and actions.

The surprisingly fleet pacing, with conversations often ending with hard cuts to a new shot, is what gives Inside Llewyn Davis a defiant lack of heaviness. The Coens aren't interested in misery porn or yanking at heart strings. Though the story's setting and music make it ripe for noxious sentimentality, the directors never betray their own level of emotional restraint, even as they branch into more sincere territory. Rather than blast emotions at the viewer, the film mostly underplays things - events, backstories, details - thus allowing them room to reverberate with the viewer throughout (and after) the whole film. 

For all that there is to say about the writing and directing, it would be foolish as well to say that the film isn't an actors' piece of sorts. Isaac, in his first real leading role, is nothing short of outstanding, whether he's singing, arguing, or merely observing and laying low. Isaac's turn is so key to the film, that whether or not you respond to it will likely come down to how to connect (or don't) to the actor's approach to him, as well as the film's. 

Supporting roles, meanwhile, often feel like hazily sketched satellites orbiting Llewyn's life. This is true of some (Jim and Mitch, Mitch's wife), but in characters like Jean the film is able to communicate so much with so little. In large part, that's due to what Mulligan pulls off, starting with bigger, noisier scenes before quieting down and hinting at a fuller, more authentic personality. Even F. Murray Abraham, who only appears in one scene, gives a performance that feels lived in. It's just not his life that we as a viewer are oriented around. 

The most valuable supporting player, however, is the music. Though little (if any) is original, music supervisor T. Bone Burnett (along with Isaac) has done a beautiful job of compiling a series of songs that work perfectly in sync with the story. It's hard to imagine swapping any songs in terms of order, given how carefully they've been positioned throughout the film. Details like this emphasize what makes Inside Llewyn Davis so special, despite its narrative and emotional modesty. 

The level of care present in every scene and shot may not always be immediately apparent, but the film moves in ways that have a confident sense of purpose. Llewyn hops from place to place, and the film hops from scene to scene, yet no excursion is without purpose. Inside Llewyn Davis is undoubtedly a small film, but it's anything but minor. It's an understated dark comedy handled with unparalleled restraint, which is precisely why it's so deeply felt. 

Grade: A-

Review: "The Great Gatsby"

Director: Baz Luhrmann
Runtime: 142 minutes

I was lucky to see an unfinished cut of Baz Luhrmann's The Great Gatsby way back in November of last year. The screening, which had unfinished VFX and temporary soundtrack selections, occurred only a month or so after the film was pushed from its original Christmas 2012 opening. Despite fearing for the worst, I ended up enjoying the relatively incomplete cut, and looked forward to the final version. Nearly half a year later, and I'm able to breathe a sigh of relief. My opinion of Luhrmann's film is basically unchanged, for better and for worse. Just as it was in November, this new Gatsby is littered with various and sundry flaws, yet builds to a mostly strong finish thanks to Luhrmann's surprising ability to tone himself down.

As far as the story is concerned, not much has been changed by Luhrmann or co-writer Craig Pearce. The only notable addition is that Nick Carraway (Tobey Maguire), the story's wallflower narrator, is writing the story from the confines of a sanitarium. Other than that, it's the same story most of us read in high school with varying degrees of interest and/or boredom. Nick moves to West Egg next to the mysterious Gatsby (Leonardo DiCaprio), and must deal with Gatsby's attempts to win back his former flame Daisy (Carey Mulligan). Framing device aside, this take on Fitzgerald's novel has little in plotting that will enrage fanatical literary purists. The outrage is more likely to stem from Luhrmann's glitzy treatment of the Jazz Age, though even that anger feels slightly misdirected.

Those familiar with Luhrmann's films (or at least Moulin Rouge!) know that the director isn't one for subtlety or low energy. As such, it shouldn't come as a surprise that the film is frenetically edited, and that the visual design is opulent to the nth degree (credit should go to production/costume designer Catherine Martin, who has outdone herself). Fitzgerald explicitly condemned the empty decadence of the Roaring Twenties. Luhrmann dresses it up with stunning costumes and an eclectic soundtrack that blends contemporary pop and hip-hop with music from the novel's era.

It would be easy to dismiss this approach as completely missing the point, but I can only partially agree. Yes, Luhrmann doesn't harshly condemn the wild excess of the elites of the day. Yet by applying a grandiose music-video style to the parties, Gatsby's parties feel relevant for a modern audience. A more accurate depiction of a party from the era would be nothing short of off-putting strictly from a viewing experience. Luhrmann wants his audience to have their cake and eat it too, and he partially gets away with it. Above all else, he succeeds in capturing the time period infinitely better than the more "accurate" vision seen in the soul-crushingly dull 1974 adaptation with Robert Redford and Mia Farrow.

Even with the social satire pushed to the background, many of the themes of Fitzgerald's novel still come through, even as Luhrmann puts Gatsby and Daisy's romance front and center. Mulligan's Daisy is almost more complex on screen, as she shifts from exaggerated air-head to doomed romantic and back again. Mulligan occasionally gets stuck with some stiff dialogue, yet she largely overcomes this and creates a nuanced portrait of vapid indecisiveness. Joel Edgerton (as Daisy's brutish husband Tom) lands some similarly stiff dialogue, yet builds his character into an engaging, albeit one-note, antagonist. Side characters have little to do, yet have their fleeting moments to shine. Isla Fisher is giving it her all as the flamboyant Myrtle, though she barely has anything to do other than pout and party. More successful is Aussie newcomer Elizabeth Debicki as the mysterious (and very lanky) golfing star Jordan Baker, who plays a key role in the early part of the story. Debicki's character has been slightly downsized (mainly in the story's second half), but the actress remains fully present even when all she has to do is cautiously shift her glance amid the melodrama.

But no Gatsby adaptation can be a real success if the titular role is pulled off. And, even with his somewhat dodgy accent, DiCaprio rightfully walks away with the film. The pull between who Gatsby is and who he wants to be is palpable, but never hammered home. For all of Luhrmann's visual excess, he has managed to give his performers moments to poke through the pumped-up visual artifice. The lone exception is Tobey Maguire. In fairness, the role of Nick Carraway is hardly a juicy role to begin with. However, Maguire is ill-served as the too-mild-for-his-own-good Nick. Having the character narrate portions of the film with direct passages from the novel doesn't help matters, and often breaks up the flow of the emotional developments.

For all that Luhrmann gets right (work with his cast, entertaining visuals and sounds, some solid understated humor), his writing work often leaves something to be desired. While The Great Gatsby feels more coherent than Australia (which, though enjoyable, was trying to be three or four different movies), it sometimes moves with fits and starts. As much as the visual ticks (text on the screen, dissolves, layered images, etc...) liven the material, they sometimes rob moments of what little impact they were aiming for. 

Thankfully, Luhrmann calms down once Gatsby and Daisy reconnect, and the second half boasts some scenes that are genuinely compelling, even in their melodramatic execution. As easy as it would be for me to dismiss the film as shallow fun, I was surprised that, even on a second viewing, I still found myself connecting with Gatsby's journey. It's not exactly a Greek tragedy (even Luhrmann wouldn't stretch Fitzgerald's prose that much), but even when the film built to its conclusion, I found myself stirred by the presentation, even if it was only an inch below skin-deep in terms of actual depth. For all of the missteps (big and small) along the way, Luhrmann's film is quite easily the best adaptation of Fitzgerald's novel. By playing to the narrative (the rekindled romance aspect), rather than the more general social critique, Luhrmann does what a director should be free to do with adaptations: make the material his own. Luhrmann doesn't need to make an adaptation that can act as a perfect narrative and thematic substitute for the book. That's what the actual book is for in the first place. 

Grade: B-

Review: "Shame"

Steve McQueen really loves to make Michael Fassbender stare. Whether it's at a person, an object, or simply off into the distance, both of the director's collaborations with Fassbender have featured quite a bit of soulful/mournful staring. The difference in their second go-round together, though, is that this time the staring actually feels as though it has some characterization to it. Rather than hit a sophomore slump, McQueen and Fassbender have made a vast improvement in Shame, the director's examination of loneliness and sex addiction.

First thing's first, a confession: I'm part of that small group of film enthusiasts who wasn't won over by McQueen's debut, 2008's Hunger. Though it had moments of power, I was ultimately left cold by the director's attempts to use famed IRA hunger-striker Bobby Sands as a symbol of eternal dedication to a cause. As such, I was hesitant to endure another McQueen-Fassbender collaboration, even though I was momentarily impressed by what the director pulled off in that film. This time, though, by focusing on an issue as faced by a fictional person (and free from any danger of political bias, accidental or otherwise) McQueen has really hit it out of the park.

Shame revolves around Brandon (Michael Fassbender), a handsome (though I suppose that's a given considering the actor playing him), mid-30s man in Manhattan with a compulsive, all-consuming addiction to sex. His routine, however, is interrupted by the arrival of his sister Sissy (Carey Mulligan). In the film's opening stretch, McQueen intercuts Brandon walking around his apartment naked with his attempted "flirtation" with an attractive woman on the subway. Though it initially feels slightly hollow, it does visually convey Brandon's state of mind regarding sex: it's not a matter of romance, it's about purely about the physical act. Without spoiling anything, the way Brandon's staring at the woman comes full circle functions as an obvious, albeit powerful statement regarding the character's transformation over the course of the film.

As Brandon, Fassbender caps off a stellar year that has finally given him attention he's deserved for a while now. He's made his mark in roles ranging from Mr. Rochester in Jane Eyre, to a young Magneto in X-Men: First Class. In Brandon, however, the actor is able to end the year with a performance which goes beyond everything he showed before, which is no small feat. As in Hunger, this is a performance that doesn't rely much on dialogue, and more on physicality and facial cues. However, unlike Hunger, Shame actually gives the actor something to work with, sparse as the script may be. Instead of simply staring off into space, it feels like there's some meaning to Fassbender's long, silent looks, even if we're not entirely sure what they mean. There's no clear answer as to where Brandon's addiction comes from; the closest answer comes from a line from Sissy, "We're not bad people, Brandon. We just come from a bad place." That's it. And yet, under McQueen's guidance, that answer doesn't matter. What's important isn't the baggage that led Brandon to his condition, but rather how he deals with it. What could have become dull and repetitive becomes magnetic in Fassbender's understated, yet powerful presence.

Every bit his equal, despite her significantly small screen time, is Mulligan. Going as far away from her role in An Education (which scored the actress an Oscar nomination) as possible, Mulligan leaves quite the impression whenever she appears, particularly in her drawn-out rendition of "New York, New York." Where Brandon is sullen and introspective, Sissy is a live wire, and seeing Mulligan take charge of the role so fearlessly is impressive as hell. If anything, I wanted more interaction between the siblings, because it felt like there was so much territory in that facet alone that McQueen and co-writer Abi Morgan could have covered. That the script keeps itself so thoroughly focused on Brandon almost becomes a problem, because Sissy sometimes comes close to being underdeveloped to the point of being little more than a plot device. Thankfully, the power that McQueen is able to wring out of Brandon's story makes up for it, but this small issue is one that, if fixed, would only have made the film stronger.

As far as flaws go, there's not much else to go at. Though Shame's opening made me worried that the film would feel hollow, the performances and McQueen's direction manage to dig deeper than one would expect, and the climactic moments hit home. Some dialogue feels on-the-nose, as if McQueen and Morgan wanted to spell out Brandon and Sissy's issues rather than giving it a context. And though the film is edited and paced impeccably for the most part, one of the most important scenes goes on too long by about half a minute. It doesn't ruin the moment or drain it of its power, but after so many successfully executed long takes, it's surprising that a moment involving faster-paced cuts ends up feeling overly long.

On the artistic and technical front, however, the film is quite outstanding. In addition to the almost flawless editing, the film benefits from cold, crisp visuals, long takes (that rarely, if ever, leave one's mind wandering), and a combination of smart sound track choices and a limited score from Harry Escott. Though the movie may earn (just barely) it's NC-17 rating, it's anything but trashy or exploitative. The only shame greater than Brandon's would be to miss the movie (y'know, assuming you're old enough).

Grade: A-

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-

Venice Review Round-Up: "Shame"

I have a confession to make: I'm really not a fan of Irish director Steve McQueen's acclaimed debut Hunger. Though parts of it are extremely well-made and compelling, the lopsided nature of the narrative, which centers on IRA member Bobby Sands' famous hunger strike, bothered me in ways that I wasn't expecting. Even so, and perhaps this is a weakness of mine, when I consider the amount of acclaim Hunger received, I feel inclined to give McQueen another chance with his second feature, Shame. Early word, as you'll see below, is getting off to a fantastic start, so maybe this time around I can actually get on board the McQueen bandwagon.

Variety - Justin Chang (N/A): "...more approachable but equally uncompromising drama..." "Even when he says nothing, which is most of the time, Fassbender transfixes."

The Guardian - Xan Brooks (4/5 stars): "Michael Fassbender and Carey Mulligan give dynamite performances..." "This is fluid, rigorous, serious cinema; the best kind of adult movie."

IndieWire - Oliver Lyttelton (A-): "...McQueen, like almost no other filmmaker, is confident enough to frame up and let the actors work, and it's the source of the film's most memorable moments..."

InContention - Guy Lodge (3.5/4 stars): "...[McQueen] has a consistently rewarding understanding of the narrative powers of composition..."

Time Out London - Dave Calhoun (4/5 stars): "...McQueen has immersed himself in a wholly different world and made a film that is similarly distinctive and exploratory and grasps you from beginning to end."

The Hollywood Reporter - Todd McCarthy (N/A): "Driven by a brilliant, ferocious performance by Michael Fassbender, Shame is a real walk on the wild side..." "...may ultimately prove too psychologically pat in confronting its subject's problem, but its dramatic and stylistic prowess provides a cinematic jolt that is bracing to experience."

Venice Verdict: A powerful follow-up to Hunger, Shame shows director Steve McQueen embracing somewhat familiar territory with a bold, striking vision, with strong performances from Michael Fassbender and Carey Mulligan.

Trailer: "Drive"

More Drive (2011) Videos

One of the big surprises out of this year's Cannes Film Festival was Nicolas Winding-Refn's Drive, which not only earned strong reviews, but also a Best Director prize. Refn's work must really be something, because neither the reviews nor the trailer made the film sounds like something that would ever be up the alley of a Cannes jury. Regardless, this looks like a lean, tough, and stylish action thriller, with an incredible cast, and I get the feeling that this trailer hasn't even begun to show us the best parts of the movie. This looks like one fun way to transition between summer and fall.

**And even though this is a red-band trailer, it barely even qualifies.

Cannes Review Round-up: "Drive"

One film that I wasn't necessarily interested in at this year's Cannes was Drive, from Bronson director Nicholas Winding Refn. Despite a cast full of names I like - Ryan Gosling, Carey Mulligan, Bryan Cranston, Christina Henricks - there was nothing about the premise (a getaway driver gets a hit put out on him) that really drew me in. Even the initial casting of Hugh Jackman in the lead couldn't get me psyched for this one. However, in a little twist, Refn's latest has earned some of the festival's most consistently positive reactions. They aren't all raves, but considering Cannes' notoriously outspoken audiences, having this sort of reception up against heavy hitters like Malick and Almodovar is something to keep an eye out for:
Rope of Silicon - Brad Brevet: (A+) "Pure cinema, pure entertainment, pure adrenaline."

The Film Stage - Raffi Asdourian: (B) "...Drive is still able to maintain Refn's signature antics while rarely losing focus, even if the film's bigger themes and messages sometimes hit the occasional awkward speed bump."

indieWire - Eric Kohn: (B+) "...Refn churns out a hyperactive love letter to road rage with unapologetic glee. It's a blast." "...within the larger context of contemporary big screen spectacles, Drive easily cruises to the top of the pack."

The Playlist - James Rocchi: (A) "Drive works as a great demonstration of how, when there's true talent behind the camera, entertainment and art are not enemies, but allies."

InContention - Guy Lodge (Twitter): (A-) "I won't lie to you: I pretty much want to have sex with this movie. Hot, clipped, nasty, beautiful. Best thing in competition."

The Hollywood Reporter - Todd McCarthy: (N/A) "...Refn has fashioned an atomospheric and engaging glorified potboiler that nonetheless seems powered by a half-empty creative tank."

The Guardian - Xan Brooks: (4/5 Stars) "It's too self-consciously retro, too much a series of cool, blank surfaces, as opposed to a rounded, textured drama." "The most they can hope for is to go down in a blaze of glory. Drive does, with bells on."

Variety - Peter Debruge: (N/A) "...a sleek, retro styled B-movie that benefits immensely from the aloof, virtually nihilistic edge Danish director Nicholas Winding Refn (Bronson) brings to the party." "Gosling is chillingly stoic..." "...doesn't quite know how to handle the character vacuum at its core, but compensates by surrounding its protag with a colorful supporting ensemble."


Additional Comments: Critics seem split on whether to criticize or embrace the seeming hollowness of Gosling's nameless protagonist.

Cannes Verdict: It may seem out of place among more seemingly "highbrow" Cannes entries, but Drive, for its faults in character development and writing, is undeniably an energetic and stylish adrenaline rush.

"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-

"Never Let Me Go" trailer

Last night was the debut of the trailer for Mark Romanek's adaptation of Kazuo Ishiguro's (author of Remains of the Day) Never Let Me Go, and it looks like cause for celebration. The story isn't made entirely clear, though it doesn't seem too hard to figure out what the "big reveal" is. That said, what I've heard about the book is that, thankfully, it isn't all about the twist, which should hopefully keep the story from being one-note. Mulligan and Knightley seem really good, as do Charlotte Rampling and Sally Hawkins. The only one I'm not sold on is the only major male cast member: Andrew Garfield. He's got the only worrisome scene, which involves him SCREAMING at the sky. Depending on how it fits into the film, it could either be shamelessly melodramatic, or really compelling, but we can't really tell until the film comes out. Still, this one's on my radar for now, and I'm really tempted to run out and buy the book.