AFI Fest 2013: "August: Osage County"

Director: John Wells
Runtime: 130 minutes

It may seem odd, but the first film I thought of after seeing August: Osage County was Steven Spielberg's Lincoln. They have virtually no similarities when it comes to tone or subject matter, but they're noteworthy in how they downplay more noticeable "directing." Film is said to be the director's medium (auteur theory and all that jazz), but films like August and Lincoln are more content to reign in the cinematic techniques and simply let the acting and writing grab the spotlight. Both films are that much better because of this decision, even though August lacks Lincoln's distinguished sense of subtle finesse.

Adapted by Tracy Letts from his own Pulitzer-winning play, the film takes the Hollywood route and shears off roughly an hour's worth of material (much like Tim Burton's Sweeney Todd). While this decision does create the occasional pacing issue, such a considerable loss of material isn't enough to wreck the film. As 'directed' by John Wells, Letts' story is still an bitterly funny tale of a family get-together in the wake of tragedy. 

At the center of the film is Violet Weston (Meryl Streep), the cancer-ridden family matriarch. To say that Violet has complicated relationships with her daughters is an understatement. The reasons are best left unsaid (the story has a few surprising twists), but suffice it to say that this isn't just another big and loud family. The Westons are a particularly dysfunctional lot, capable of bickering and manipulating each other and then suddenly sharing in blackly comedic jokes about suicide. 

Like most family get togethers, real or cinematic, the early sections are where things struggle to take off. Letts' considerable cuts from his play are commendable, yet he leaves in some establishing scenes that are but empty stage business that would allow someone to change their costume. Wells doesn't try anything 'cinematic' or abstract, but some scenes - like Margo Martindale and Chris Cooper wandering through a dim, humid room - are as painfully stage-y as they come. 

The initial focus on Streep's Violet is also something of a divisive choice. While there are plenty of effective big and broad moments, Streep's capital-A acting sometimes clashes with the choices of her co-stars. Some of this is likely intentional - Violet comes off as a coarse, upper middle class Norma Desmond - but the performance is in need of some reigning in. When Streep does hit her mark, however, she's near the top of the ensemble in her ability to bring acid-soaked wit to Letts' tangy dialogue. 

Yet as Streep chews the scenery with reckless abandon, two of her co-stars (one famous, the other not so) steal the movie out from under her. As Violet's youngest daughter Ivy, Julianne Nicholson is superb in one of the film's quieter, introspective roles. This is the sort of supporting turn that immediately makes you wonder why Nicholson hasn't risen to greater prominence by now. She's effortlessly emotive, capturing Ivy's struggle with being the subservient youngest child without ever feeling pathetic. 

On the flip side is Julia Roberts as oldest daughter Barbara. Stripped of virtually any movie star ticks or persona, Roberts tears into the role, albeit in a more naturalistic manner than Streep. Watching Barbara's simmering contempt grow into a wrathful boil is among the narrative's most satisfying emotional developments. By the time the dramatic centerpiece - an early dinner featuring the whole Weston clan - comes to its knock-out ending, Roberts seals her status as best in show, just as Barbara finally claims her dominance in the household. 

For all of the antagonism on screen, Letts' script never forgets to make these characters feel human and relatable, albeit in uncomfortable ways. Among the film's best scenes is a conversation among Barbara, Ivy, and Karen joking and drinking together. Despite their drastic differences, the (admittedly warped) sisterly bond of the trio comes together with remarkable clarity. 

While the women are out dominating the screen, the men (none of them Westons by blood) are less successful. There's a subplot involving Barbara's husband Bill (Ewan McGregor), as well as one involving Karen's (Juliette Lewis) sleazy boyfriend (Dermot Mulroney), but they're used more to develop the great women around them. Only Chris Cooper makes much of an impact as his own individual, and it's a testament to his talent that he communicates so much with so little. Meanwhile, Benedict Cumberbatch, while certainly a talented actor, is a minor disaster as Cooper and Martindale's son Little Charles. The brief moments with Charles making his way to the Weston home are the lowest of the films lows. It's too bad that his character has such a pivotal connection to the underlying plot. 

Thankfully, the men are mostly afterthoughts, with the women allowed to take center stage in a way that's far too uncommon. Wells' direction ranges from bumbling to bland, but Letts' voice comes through so powerfully thanks to the clear emotional investment of just about everyone on screen. August: Osage County won't be remembered as high art years down the line, but as a vehicle for some superbly written and acted dark comedy, it certainly gets the job done. While I doubt it fully captures the greatness of the source material, it's certainly not a bad place to start.

Grade: B/B-

Review: "The Impossible"

Director: J.A. Bayona
Runtime: 114 minutes

It's not easy making a movie about a tragedy, especially if said tragedy occurred less than a decade ago. There's the danger of cheap exploitation, and not just within the emotional confines of the story. And that's what makes J.A. Bayona's The Impossible, which is by no means flawless, such a noteworthy achievement. At the end of the day, people were paid to make a movie about very real (and far-reaching) devastation, suffering, and loss. Yet Bayona and his collaborators deserve credit for telling this true story with a level of maturity and respect that avoids turning the 2004 tsunami into overwrought, sensationalist entertainment.

Opening two days before the tsunami, Bayona's film centers on Maria and Henry Bennett (Naomi Watts and Ewan McGregor), a British couple vacationing in Thailand with their sons Lucas (Tom Holland), Thomas (Samuel Joslin), and Simon (Oaklee Pendergast). After enjoying a lovely Christmas morning, the family partakes in a number of activities at their upscale hotel. The next morning, however, they, like countless others, are torn apart as a wall of water smashes through the area, devastating natural and man-made structures alike. 

However, anyone paying the least bit of attention to the film's promotion knows one crucial fact: the entire family survives the tragedy. This means that, as a film, The Impossible needs to rely on more than just the question of whether the family will be reunited; the specifics of their struggle have to come to the forefront. And that's one of this film's strengths. First and foremost is Bayona's handling of the tsunami, which avoids turning the catastrophe into the sort of disaster porn that one might find in a Roland Emmerich blockbuster. The scenes of the family struggling in the raging waters are compelling, but they never feel overblown. If anything, certain stylistic flourishes lend greater insight into the physical struggles people faced. The most successful of these are the underwater shots, filled with tilting camera angles and furious, swirling imagery. It's been said that being submerged in the tsunami felt like being trapped in a washing machine, and Bayona captures that effect with a harrowing, white knuckle intensity. 

But the film doesn't get caught up in the chaos of the tidal wave. Bayona and screenwriter Sergio G. Sanchez are, first and foremost, focused on the story of survival and the triumph of the human spirit even in the worst of times. The scenes of the family struggling in the raging waters are already exhausting, and The Impossible doesn't go overboard with them, thereby allowing them to never run out of impact. Just as impressive is the treatment of the rest of the family's journey, which begins with its focus on Maria and Lucas. 

And though there's not much to work with on paper, the cast, thankfully, turns in nice work, even if they're working with blank slates. This is a film about circumstances, not character, which limits what the actors can really achieve. But Watts, McGregor, and Holland are all compelling presences, and their looks of exhaustion and anguish never feel redundant or strained. At the same time, it remains difficult to find anything extraordinary in the performances, as the emotional impact is achieved through the broader themes and events, rather than the specifics of the individuals at the narrative's core.

Where The Impossible becomes a little wobbly, however, is in some of its less physically demanding sequences. Some dialogue, especially for the three children, feels rather stiff, and at times even jarring to hear coming out of such young characters. Suffice it to say that the film handles the overarching components well, but stumbles when it comes to the particulars of character interactions. Writing quibbles aside, the film engages in some needless (albeit brief) moments involving various members of the family just barely missing each other as they wander around a chaotic Thai hospital. 

But perhaps the film's biggest weakness is Fernando Velazquez's score, which often feels like leftover tracks from the latest Almodovar film. The raw emotion on display is compelling enough, yet there are too many instances where the score either telegraphs an emotion too soon, or simply becomes overbearing. What should be one of the film's most powerful moments is nearly sunk by the surging music that floods over the entire scene. In a movie that successfully blends compelling film making techniques and upfront emotional impact, the use of such forced music seems wildly out of place. Once The Impossible winds down to its final moments, the sense of authenticity largely returns, but there are enough rough spots here and there that hold the film back. However, Bayona deserves credit for his treatment of the '04 tsunami, and how he is able to make the film suitably wrenching without exploiting or cheapening the suffering of thousands. If anything, The Impossible is an anti-disaster movie, and should, at least, be given some recognition for its treatment of such destruction with such a visceral, yet still human, vision.

Grade: B 

Review: "Perfect Sense"

Mixing hints of the apocalypse and romance seems like a guaranteed recipe for disaster. The romance and disaster genres have enough trouble working on their own, and combining them often seems like a big headache. Of course, as movies like to prove time and time again, there are exceptions to the rule, as is the case with David MacKenzie's Perfect Sense. Like a less expansive, more emotional version of Steven Soderbergh's Contagion, MacKenzie's tale of love amid a mysterious epidemic has its share of rough patches, but ultimately winds up a success that should have been given more of a chance (the film played for a few weeks in one theater in New York, and that's it as far as stateside showings go). 


Set in Scotland, the film follows the relationship between Susan (Eva Green), an epidemiologist, and Michael (Ewan McGregor) a chef at a restaurant near Susan's apartment.  As their on-and-off relationship is just starting to get off of the ground, though, a mysterious infection begins spreading, robbing people of their senses in moments punctuated by things like extreme, irrational hunger. It's not the easiest story to use to try and blend romance and disease-drama, yet MacKenzie's choices ultimately lead the film in the right direction.


Not to say that there aren't weak moments. The first two thirds feature awkward peaks and valleys in storytelling. As a result, a solid or good scene is often followed by one with strange execution. This is most often true in the scenes where we see people having episodes before losing a particular sense. On paper it makes sense to show people in ravenous hunger right before they lose their ability to taste, yet the execution is sometimes a tad daft. While seeing people chow down on the ingredients in Michael's kitchen is absolutely reasonable, scenes meant to illustrate the extent of the cravings inevitably reduces the film to showing Susan chomping down on a bouquet of flowers while the woman next to her bites into a tube of lipstick. Again, thematically speaking, nothing wrong, but moments like these undermine what MacKenzie is able to pull off in the good scenes. 


The big problem that Perfect Sense has to overcome is that it wants to mix elements of the intimate and epic, using one location to communicate the epidemic at large. Strangely, the broader strokes in the film, which often involves the use of archival footage to show the disease impacting other parts of the globe, are more successful than the ones scripted directly for the film. Scribe Kim Aakeson is headed in the right direction with the basic elements she inserts into the story - such as Susan's relationship with her married sister - but the way in which they're dealt with can be inconsistent, and at times (even with MacKenzie's guidance) a little tone deaf. It's as if MacKenzie (or someone near the top of the production) was so taken with the basic outline of the story that he didn't bother to smooth out the first two acts. 


It's a shame, because these inconsistencies in execution do a disservice to the film's performers. Green and McGregor are clearly invested in the material, as daffy as some of it must have seemed on the page, but you can feel a slight dip in energy in the weaker scenes. When everything is running smoothly, however, the pair deliver some lovely work, and when it comes time for the big moments in act three, they knock it out of the park. Green is particularly good, even when the script gives her slightly stiff dialogue to work with, and McGregor, despite being saddled with a character who doesn't go through as much of an arc as he should, has marvelous moments as well, including a painfully beautiful scene where he talks into a phone, unable to hear his own voice. 


Yet for all of these ups and downs, everything in Perfect Sense comes together in the last act, with increasingly haunting results.  As the stakes get higher, and more senses disappear, the impact of the disease feels more palpable and more meaningful. While the first two acts disrupt the momentum of the good scenes, act three allows them to finish just about free of interruption. Encounters are better handled, tone is consistent, and the awkward scenes fade away, leaving only a succession of stronger scenes that culminate in a heart-wrenchingly beautiful finale that will likely be one of 2012's best moments come year's end. For the most part the technical elements are adequate (kudos, though, on the limited use of trash to convey a sense of social dysfunction and chaos), but Max Richter's astoundingly beautiful score takes the film up to some pretty incredible highs, namely in the aforementioned finale. For everything that goes wrong in Perfect Sense, the ending is a reminder of the importance of ending a film with its best foot forward. And that's exactly what MacKenzie and company do, creating an ultimately satisfying and beautifully moving romantic drama tinged with hints of science fiction. The film as a whole may have its significant flaws, but its best moments work so well that every once and a while you're tempted to forgive them, which is more than a little impressive.


Grade: B

Review: "Haywire"

While The Hunger Games may have recently taken in over $150 million at the box office, the film is actually the second this year to feature a kick ass female protagonist. Steven Soderbergh's Haywire, despite underperforming, features this year's first breakout tough-as-nails heroine, in the form of Mallory Kane (Gina Carano, a mixed martial arts fighter). An ex-black ops assassin burned by her handlers via a set-up in Barcelona, Carano more than gives Katniss Everdeen a run for her money, even though Carano's acting is, when compared to Jennifer Lawrence, a bit lacking.

At its core, Haywire represents Steven Soderbergh at his leanest and most efficient. Though set in the present day, it carries the feel of a stripped down 1970s political action-thriller (minus most of the politics). For the most part, that's a good thing. Soderbergh and scribe Lem Dobbs' set ups are crisp and quick without feeling rushed, and the action is photographed and staged with a refreshing mix of clarity and lack of chaotic editing or shaky cameras. The aforementioned Barcelona incident, told largely only with images and David Holmes' excellent, varied score, demonstrates Haywire's best; there's a low key feeling to the action that slowly sucks you in and never goes overboard. This is a film that knows exactly what it wants to be, and there's never any hints that Dobbs' script is aiming for political commentary or deep characterization.

Unfortunately, the film is still hindered by what should be its greatest asset: Ms. Carano. Soderbergh has pulled out strong work from non-actors before (Sasha Grey in The Girlfriend Experience), but here he can't quite cover up Carano's inexperience. Carano has the look and presence to be the badass Mallory is supposed to be, and in the fight scenes she's great fun to watch. Yet every time she opens her mouth, the dialogue is delivered in tones that register somewhere between lightweight and robotic. Worse is that the rest of the ensemble are all pros, and don't have enough to work with to really go wrong, which only makes Carano's missteps stick out further. As nice as it is to have a tough, nicely paced action film centering on a female protagonist, there were moments when I wished that one of Carano's co-stars (mostly Michael Fassbender or Ewan McGregor) had been the hero instead.

It's a shame, because if Soderbergh had been able to pull a better performance, the film could have been the stripped-down, stylistically tame cousin of Joe Wright's Hanna. That film featured a few bumps in the screenplay, but the strong work from the cast (namely Saoirse Ronan's fiercely committed turn), along with the direction and excellent technicals elevated it far above its pedestrian origins on the page. Haywire doesn't have that, which makes its stark simplicity less satisfying than it ought to be. I have to give major props to Soderbergh and the technical team for creating such a fun, taut film, but ultimately Carano's stiff performance is too big a factor in the film's success, and she's really the only thing holding it back.

Grade: B-

The Netflix Files: February 6-12

Mona Lisa (1986) dir. Neil Jordan

Neil Jordan is one of those directors whose films I really want to like, yet something always gets in the way, usually the pacing. Sadly, Mona Lisa is no exception, though it certainly has its strengths. Bob Hoskins gives a strong performance as a man slowly (very slowly) dragged into the seedy underbelly of London, and his chemistry with Cathy Tyson makes the film worth sticking with. It also features some nicely handled tense sequences, and the film's one big blow up of violence is quite effective in its simplicity. Mona Lisa isn't striving to be a crime epic; the nature of its story is small, even though the consequences can be severe. Unfortunately, Jordan's pacing isn't on the same level of consistency as the performances, and as such it's easy for one's mind to wander in the first hour, which becomes repetitive after a while. A noble effort with strong parts that ultimately add up to a whole that isn't quite all there.

Grade: B/B-

Trainspotting (1996) dir. Danny Boyle

Long before Danny Boyle was filling the screen with zombies or taking us through the streets of Mumbai, he made a little movie about drug addiction that catapulted him into the limelight, and for good reason. It's got Boyle's signature all over it, which helps keep the often dour plot from becoming unrepentant misery porn. There are even a few moments of black comedy that work nicely to punctuate the unsettling subject matter. Yet when Boyle wants to make the film hit hard, he does so masterfully. In what is easily the film's best scene, we see Renton (the wonderful Ewan McGregor) going into withdrawal in his childhood bedroom. Boyle pulls out all of the surreal stops here, and the longer the sequence goes on, the more powerful it becomes. Even though smaller characters don't feel as well-rounded as Renton does, Boyle captures the lower middle class druggie lifestyle with such skill that it does little to hamper the film's impact. Pair this with a screening of Requiem for a Dream, and you'll never even think about doing meth or cocaine for quite some time.

Grade: B+/A-

Review: "Beginners"

Love takes many forms in Mike Mills' Beginners. The director's latest explores relationships between men and women, parents and children, and people and animals. Combine that with a time-jumping, non-linear narrative structure, and you have the ingredients for something completely contrived and scatter shot. However, Mills' film, his first feature since 2005's Thumbsucker, never feels out of balance. Instead, it's a sincere, honest, and touching film about different types of beginnings in life.

After a brief, near-silent intro, Mills' semi-autobiographical film begins with Oliver (Ewan McGregor) telling us that after his mother passed away, his father (Christopher Plummer) decided to come out. From there, the story jumps from Oliver dealing with his father's increasing immersion into the gay community (and subsequent relationship), his father's declining health, Oliver's relationship with his mother as a child, and Oliver's romance with Anna (Melanie Laurent).

All of these relationships, along with Oliver's bonding with his father's dog (is there an award for best performance by an animal?), are handled with an elegant simplicity, one that allows for moments of laugh out loud humor and heartfelt emotion. In drawing from his own experiences, Mills has created a story that, despite its unique details, rings true in its depictions of love and loss. McGregor is sweet and vulnerable as Oliver, a man dealing not only with a profound revelation, but also with his first good relationship in years. Plummer and Laurent, along with Mary Keller as Oliver's mother, turn in lovely supporting turns as well. Plummer and Keller, who never share the screen together, speak volumes as parents who struggle to connect with each other, while Laurent is quirky (but not overly so) and charming as Oliver's love interest. She's not reduced to a perfect object of male desire, as is often the case in similar films, and Mills' grounded writing for the role gives Laurent more room to perform, and for her chemistry with McGregor to blossom.

And as much territory as it covers over 100 minutes, Beginners never feels as though it's stretching itself thin. Mills utilizes each story thread elegantly, and the jumps between and among various points in time are simple and effective. By not following a straight-forward path, Mills is able to keep us up in the air as to what will come next, without undermining the film's most poignant moments, which are beautifully understated. Rather than strain for moments of heart or humor, Beginners unfolds with an ease that makes the proceedings feel effortless and lived-in. This is a film about beginners, but Mills and his cast prove themselves to be old pros, working together to create a beautifully emotional film, one that rises above its extremely indie look (and budget) to become something memorable, and something special.

Grade: B+