Director: Shira Piven
Runtime: 88 minutes
Despite a fun set-up, Shira Piven's Welcome to Me is so totally linked to its central performance that it has little room to accomplish much else. Thankfully, star Kristen Wiig, in the latest of a recent string of indie releases, owns this offbeat dramedy from top to bottom. Piven's trim character study is so intensely focused on Wiig's Alice Klieg that there's little breathing room for anyone else. In fact, there's so little to be found in Welcome to Me outside of Wiig's performance, that the film often feels like nothing more than a performance showcase. Wiig offers some stellar comedic and dramatic acting, but the script's character-based tunnel vision prevents the project as a whole from being more than a gently moving trifle.
Like any normal person, Alice is stunned when she wins the local lottery of $86 million. Yet once we get a look at Alice's cramped apartment, it's clear that she's far from your average American struggling to get by (and hoping for a miracle). Not only is Alice bi-polar, she's also messing around with the meds prescribed by her doctor (Tim Robbins). An Oprah-worshipping shut-in, Alice decides that there's only one thing she really wants to use her new fortune for: a talk show built around herself. Understandably, she's met with incredulous looks when she proposes the idea to the staff of the local TV station (Joan Cusack, Jennifer Jason Leigh). The lone exception is Rich (James Marsden), the money-hungry head of the station, who gladly accepts check after check from Alice while his guilt-ridden brother/TV host Gabe (Wes Bentley) watches.
Outside of the character-based elements, Welcome to Me's second priority is clearly the way society portrays (and/or exploits) those with mental illnesses. Yet Eliot Laurence's tight (almost too tight) script never branches out further than the basic idea that such exploitation A) exists and B) isn't very nice. Especially given the recent treatment of celebrities with mental illness, these themes couldn't be more ripe for exploration. If the world of Network predicted the rise of sadomasochistic, morally uncomfortable TV content, then Welcome to Me simply drops us into that world long after the prophecy has come to pass.
Whether or not you find this to be a major issue will likely come down to how you respond to Alice and Wiig's performance. Even with the aforementioned themes present, Alice is Laurence and Piven's #1 priority by a gigantic margin. And, on that subject, the film more than gets the job done. Laurence has created a true original of a character, one who is never defined strictly by her diagnosis. And Wiig, who's been stretching her acting muscles recently, does some really wonderful work here that continues to prove her worth as convincing actress, regardless of genre.
The most obvious challenge with a film like Welcome to Me comes down to tone, and Piven's capturing of Laurence's writing is part of what keeps one involved with this increasingly sad character study. Wiig, meanwhile, has to contain the film's variations in tone without coming across as forced, and she does so beautifully. Funny, heartbreaking, and weird, it's a performance that feels truly human, and not like a checklist of mental health symptoms.
Other characters may not get anywhere near the depth afforded to Alice, but Piven's film is filled with small gems from the talented ensemble. Bentley and Marsden are perfectly matched as the polar opposite brothers, the former of whom eventually earns Alice's romantic attention. Bentley's character is the most similar to Alice, and where others watch confusion and embarrassment, he watches with great empathy. Cusack is good for a handful of exasperated reaction shots, as is Leigh (though the latter's role is basically pointless).
The most meaningful supporting performance comes from Linda Cardellini as Alice's best friend Gina. Of all of the relationships featured in Welcome to Me, this is the one that would have been worthy of a few extra scenes. Though Alice has her own problems, she can be obsessed with herself to the point where she drives others away. This dynamic comes through the clearest with Gina, though some of the finale's impact is undercut by Gina's marginalization throughout the story. With more focus on the Gina/Alice dynamic, which goes back to their childhoods, more of Welcome to Me could have truly lingered. Instead, it's only Alice who really stays with you. Not surprising, as it's probably what she would've wanted.
Grade: B-
Director: Lee Daniels
Runtime: 132 minutes
Though Lee Daniels' The Butler (or is it Lee Daniels' The Butler?) features actors playing five presidents, they are ultimately bits of amusing stunt casting. And that's the way it should be. Though the roster of A-list cameos adds star power to the project, Daniels' follow-up to the trashtastic The Paperboy, it never gets lost in them. Instead, they're used to push and pull the quiet Cecil Gaines (Forest Whitaker), as he plays the role of observer to some of the most tumultuous years in modern American history. So many films (often biopics) try to capture decades of history and feel like hasty powerpoint presentations. The Butler, despite its share of faults, manages to flesh out its historical stepping stones effortlessly, all without feeling self-important.
As Cecil and his hard-drinking wife Gloria (Oprah Winfrey) avoid involvement in the Civil Rights Movement, their son Louis (David Oyelowo) becomes an active participant. The range of opinions - Louis' fiery activism, Cecil's neutrality, white authority's slow progress and/or hostility - is what keeps the story so consistently engaging. Even with the copious amounts of vaseline smeared on the camera lenses, The Butler is neither cheap nor trashy. And, compared to Daniels' previous films, it feels much more restrained. There are histrionics, to be sure, but they never feel contrived or manipulative. The emotions and issues that make up the film's story are big, and the acting is always in perfect sync.
In the film's trickiest role, Whitaker is a quiet marvel. It's a complete 180 from his Oscar-winning turn in The Last King of Scotland, and has him as a reserved, passive figure. Yet for all of the serving and observing Cecil does, Whitaker never slips into blankness. The character's conflict, solidly sketched out, ensures that he never becomes boring or an empty audience surrogate. The issue of what it means to be black and a servant as the Civil Rights Movement rages outside is an emotionally complex internal struggle, and Whitaker captures it quite gracefully.
Lending strong support are Winfrey and Oyelowo, both of whom provide different sorts of foils. Winfrey's Gloria, who gradually moves towards sobriety across the narrative, is the livelier of the couple, always trying to draw her husband out of his shell, while also holding the house together. Though we may not spend nearly as much time with Gloria as we do with Cecil, she still feels like her own independent character. It's role that demands both energy and empathy, and Winfrey proves herself more than up to the task. Though her name is undoubtedly a draw (reports are that the role was expanded after her casting), her performance never throws one out of the film. Whatever decisions may have led to her being cast in the role, she is authentic, and there's not an ounce of celebrity vanity to be found in the performance.
Oyelowo, meanwhile, makes a strong impression as Louis, who proves to be quite the lightning rod as time goes by. One of the most compelling aspects of Strong's script is seeing how drastically Louis changes, while Cecil does his best to stay the same in his little bubble at the White House. Unlike the film's hall of presidents, Cecil and his family are rounded characters who help ground the film in the complexities of black American life.
That said, the presidents and their wives are handled nicely, even as the casting creates a few chuckles at first glance (Robin Williams as Eisenhower set off more than a few people). James Marsden makes an appealing JFK, and Liev Schreiber provides some humor as Lyndon Johnson. That humor is, thankfully, not contained strictly to LBJ's scenes. For as much sadness and anger as there is, The Butler can be very funny, which only makes it more emotionally accessible. Even John Cusack, so totally miscast as Richard Nixon, is convincing with the broad strokes he's required to play. Of the presidents, however, it's probably Alan Rickman's Ronald Reagan who comes off as the most complex. After helping Cecil ensure equal pay for black White House staff, he then struggles with aiding South African anti-apartheid movements, which only puts Cecil in a more emotionally conflicted corner.
Scenes and characters from outside of the White House or the Gaines' home prove equally compelling, and provide the film with some of its high points. Louis' early brushes with activism - participating in a sit-in and becoming a Freedom Rider - are absolutely gut-wrenching. They let the conviction of the protesters, as well as the hatred of their opposition, take center stage. It's intense stuff, and Daniels plays it completely straight. While some scenes border on cheesy (so much vaseline), the depictions of the Civil Rights Movement are frighteningly real, which only magnifies their power.
With so many narrative balls to juggle, it's impressive that Daniels and Strong never let any of them drop. For a film that covers so much time, what they have pulled off is something to be proud of. The script and direction keep Cecil and his family front and center. With the ensemble coming and going, Daniels and Strong never lose track of the Gaineses as the narrative's anchor. Even with its sappy score and on-the-nose voiceover, The Butler is a surprisingly effective portrait of family up against a canvas that spans decades. It may contain only a few brushes with true greatness, but The Butler deserves to be commended for taking on so much without ever feeling overburdened.
Grade: B
Director: Leslye Headland
Runtime: 87 minutes
It would be easy to dismiss Leslye Headland's Bachelorette on the grounds that it is nothing more than a cheap cash-in on the R-rated lady comedy trend bolstered by last year's Bridesmaids. However, that's not quite the case. Headland's film is based on her own play. Even if Bridesmaids paved the way for something like Bachelorette, this particular film shouldn't be passed over just because of its timing. Why? Because there are so many legitimate reasons to ignore Headland's dumb, ugly, and unpleasant film.
Regan (Kirsten Dunst), Gena (Lizzy Caplan), and Katie (Isla Fisher), three best friends from high school, suddenly find themselves in the bridal party of Becky (Bridesmaids' Rebel Wilson), whom they used to make fun of. To the dismay of the trio (mostly Katie), Becky says that her bachelorette party will be a tame affair, consisting of little more than hanging out in a nice hotel room and eating ice cream. Desperate to spice things up, Regan, Gena, and Katie soon find themselves in over their heads when matrimonial disaster strikes in a moment of mean-spirited fun.
And by matrimonial disaster, I'm talking about the moment when Regan and Katie, squeezing both of their bodies into Becky's plus size wedding dress, tear it almost completely in half. As part of a larger tapestry of screw ups, this incident could lend itself to a wild ride of bridal party hijinks. But that's it. No, really. The driving force of the plot is the torn dress, and nothing more. The only other wild and crazy incident in the whole mess is that Gena and Katie both did cocaine earlier in the night. Can you handle the manufactured wackiness? Suffice it to say that there are more laughs in any one of Bridesmaids' comedic set pieces than in the entirety of this film.
Not helping matters is that Headland doesn't seem interested in making her characters interesting or multidimensional. This only becomes a bigger problem because they're not remotely likable. Regan is a type-A bitch, Gena is a sarcastic slacker, and Katie is just an over-the-top party girl. The roles do little to capitalize on the gifts of the talented women playing them, especially when it comes to Fisher's Katie, who's rendered little more than a shrill and cartoonish nuisance. Headland seems to be striving for (once again, mind the comparison's chronological faults) a mix of The Hangover and Bridesmaids by way of a Noah Baumbach film, and it flat out doesn't work. I'm usually not keen on much Mr. Baumbach's work, but at least he's capable of crafting insightful character portraits and drawing strong turns from his leads. If Headland possesses that talent, she's done nothing here to indicate that this is the case.
And so Bachelorette chugs along, throwing in three blank 'love' interests (Adam Scott, James Marsden, and Kyle Bornheimer) for our protagonists, and an over dose subplot that only drags the film further down the rabbit hole into tedium. Much could be forgiven if the writing had any punch to it, but it just feels blunt, dumb, and mean. The occasional line or gag registers, but the successes are still weighed down by the failures of the whole enterprise. Worse is that Headland tries to wrap things up in typical raunchy rom-com fashion, with a happy ending where everyone gets together with "the right one." It's that unfortunate sort of bad movie where not even the strengths of the cast members make it worth checking out.
Grade: D
