Review: "Men, Women & Children"

Director: Jason Reitman
Runtime: 119 minutes

Within minutes, Men Women & Children takes the honor for the year's worst and least necessary framing device. This story about relationships in the era of social media, texting, and webcams, opens in space. Yes, out space. Specifically, on the Voyager 1 space craft as it approaches Jupiter, presumably on its way to the Great Infinite Beyond to be reborn as a star child a la Keir Dullea in 2001 (as you do). There is nothing inherently wrong with the footage. In fact, it looks quite seamless and epic. But then Emma Thompson starts narrating (is she the Voyager 1? the universe? God??) and takes us from the magnificent expanses of the cosmos (don't worry, we'll get to go back there in a few months with Interstellar) down to Austin, Texas. Or at least, some pale imitation of Austin (if the film was shot there, it had this Texas native fooled). Regardless, this is where we'll find out what Reitman's latest has to say.

Because when you open with the stars and the largest planet of the solar system, it seems rather clear that you're positioning your film to really be about something. Men Women & Children does quite a bit of trying, but it the fruits of its labor are rotten. Worse, it gives off the impression that Reitman is secretly a bitter old man who thinks modern technology is nothing but bad news, despite opening with imagined footage of the Voyager 1 spacecraft. Above all, Children is a cautionary tale, though it ultimately provokes more eye-rolls than legitimate reflection about modern communication. 

As in Crash and Babel (there's the first red flag), the goal is contrive drama, sorry, weave a tapestry of multiple narratives that intersect in various ways. First, there's Don and Helen Truby (Adam Sandler and Rosemarie DeWitt), a married couple who lost the spark in their marriage because they were having sex while 9/11 was happening (no, really). While they both have affairs, their 15 year-old son Chris (Travis Tope) has looked at so much next level porn that he can't get an erection from anything vanilla (including an actual girl). 

Somewhere else in town is Joan Clint (Judy Greer), a single mom who also spends a lot of time taking semi-racy pictures of her daughter for her modeling/acting website. Then, there's Tim Mooney (Ansel Elgort, shot so poorly that he often looks like a toad), the former star quarterback (did you know that football is a big deal in Texas? DID YOU?) who left the team after his mom ran off to California to the shock of Tim and his stern father (Dean Norris). Come to think of it, Joan's ex-husband/baby daddy was also based in California. I think California might represent hell or modernity or something (unless you live in the San Fernando Valley, in which case you're quite literally in hell). 

Finally (not really, but enough already), there's Brady Beltmayer (Kaitlyn Dever, so excellent in last year's Short Term 12) and her mother Patricia (Jennifer Garner). I'm sorry, that's incorrect. What I meant to say was, "and her mother Patricia, a human embodiment of the NSA and Lifetime Movie White Mom paranoia." Patricia can access Brandy's phone remotely, deleting innocent texts from boys like Tim before Brandy even has a chance to see them. In her spare time, Patricia hosts informational meetings about the tribulations of the web (Guild Wars and World of Warcraft? As dangerous as pedophiles, clearly.), and probably knits scarves and tea cozies with sanitized images of Christ's crucifixion on them. Ms. Garner does her best with what she's given, God bless her, but the deck is stacked overwhelmingly against her.

Yet Patricia is also responsible for the best and worst things to come out of the script by Mr. Reitman and Erin Cressida Wilson (adapting the novel by Chad Kultgen, who I'm sure must be a riot at PTA meetings). St. Patricia is truly a woman of many talents. The first of her miracles is to get Ms. Greer and Mr. Norris' characters into a budding relationship. A Judy Green/Dean Norris romance is not something that makes sense at all on paper, but as performed by these two highly underrated actors, it works. Their interactions constitute the only moments when Men Women & Children comes to life as an engaging study of modern socialization. Amid all the nauseatingly simplistic writing in the film, at least Children has shown me something that I never knew I wanted and now must absolutely have. Throw in Ms. Dever, and you can consider my hypothetical ticket bought.

Alas, while St. Patricia giveth, she also taketh away. Various and sundry connections occur, relationships are tested, and next thing you know Patricia's actions lead to a suicide attempt that's punctuated by some of the most howlingly pretentious details imaginable. How I longed for the good old days when Sandra Bullock could be cured of racism by falling down a flight of stairs. They don't make 'em like they used to.

Beyond the attempted suicide, there are a littany of other sins in which St. Patricia is unable to intercede. By far the biggest offender is the handling of DeWitt and Sandler's storyline. Reitman, who has previously explored adulterous characters with such snappy humanity, has completely missed the mark here. The half baked resolution of these scenes from a marriage tries to take both sides into account, but ends up shaking a finger at DeWitt and somehow leaving Sandler the "victim." So if double standards and misogyny are your cup of tea, they boy, is Men Women & Children the film for you (to the man who cheered at one particular moment: this is not a good thing). While the film's structure practically ensured that we wouldn't get a lengthy resolution to any strand of the narrative, DeWitt and Sandler's is the one that most desperately needs it. The deprivation of such a conclusion is both narratively weak and thematically reprehensible. 

In Mr. Reitman's first four films, he established himself as a darkly funny examiner of modern American/Canadian life. Despite characters who did ugly things (Thank You For Smoking, Young Adult), there remained something illuminating a vital in Reitman's nuances and narrative juxtapositions. In comedy (and tragicomedy) he blossomed as both a storyteller and a remarkable director of actors. Those first four films, then, are precisely why his two forays into straight-faced drama are so disheartening. Without an edge or a kick, Reitman's voice becomes mealy mouthed and aimless. Compare the beautiful work the director got from Charlize Theron and Patton Oswalt in Young Adult to the performances in his past two films. The difference is frightening.

Of course, it's expected that artists will at some point venture outside of their comfort zone(s). Despite some growing pains, these ventures can often leave an artist reinvigorated. Unfortunately, Reitman's recent career choices call to mind an fellow director (and a fellow Canadian) who keeps trying the same old something new: David Cronenberg. Yet the gap between Reitman's genres is so much smaller than Cronenberg, which makes it so much for frustrating to seem him veer even further off course. Everyone blunders, even the greats. Hell, sometimes it's the towering icons who make the biggest mess when they screw up. That's part of artistic evolution. 

Yet that same evolution turns into regression if the same mistake is repeated too many times. There's still plenty of time for Reitman to put himself on a better path, or find some purely dramatic material that's actually worthy of him. But right now, he, like Men Women & Children, seems to have run out of fresh things to say. I really did envy the Voyager by the end of Men Women and Children. It gets to move further away from our world with each passing minute.

Grade: D-/F

Review: "Labor Day"

Director: Jason Reitman
Runtime: 111 minutes

While Jason Reitman deserves credit for branching out with his latest film, he's hardly deserving of praise for the final product this time around. A mishmash of poor decisions and shoddy story telling, Labor Day comes across more as a polished Lifetime movie, rather than the latest work from an exciting young director. In venturing outside of his comfort zone, Reitman has made the mistake of indulging in all of the worst tendencies of his new chosen genre. The result is awkward, boring, and fatally unconvincing.

Set over Labor Day weekend in 1987, Reitman's adaptation of Joyce Maynard's novel centers on Henry (Gattlin Griffith) and Adele Wheeler (Kate Winslet). The latter is a shut in of a single mom, unable to rebound from her divorce to Henry's father (Clark Gregg). On her monthly sojourn to the local convenience store, however, Adele's life changes with the introduction of Frank (Josh Brolin), an escaped convict who inserts himself into Adele and Henry's life. 

Right off of the bat, the set up is unconvincing. The level of contrivance present, which rests upon Henry's gullibility and naiveté, isn't the sort of flaw the film is able to make up for over time. Instead, it undermines everything that follows. The psychological tension inherent to the set up never materializes, which leaves Labor Day as a goopy slog of a romantic drama. 

Reitman approaches the material by throwing every trick in the book at it, and it's rather depressing to watch. Voice over pervades the entire film, spelling out even the most obvious details. Meanwhile, Rofle Kent's score, though fine on its own, is overused to the point of self-parody. Rather than compliment the footage, Kent's music strains the create an atmosphere that the writing and direction are laughably incapably of conjuring. Reitman also tries, unsuccessfully, to build Frank and Adele's backstories through laughably "arty" flashback sequences that do little to truly get under the skin. If anything, they only make the whole project seem even more worthless.   

Even the two stars seem unable to fully connect with their characters. Though Winslet and Brolin are perfectly suited to their respective roles, the material they're given is so thoroughly lacking that its no wonder their performances suffer. Winslet, in the more emotive role, is particularly disappointing as the damaged Adele. All of the nervousness and wariness Winslet communicates feels halfhearted at best. Though it's hard to pinpoint whether the fault lies more with the writing and directing or the actress can be difficult. Either way, it's sorely lacking work from an actress who is capable of so much more. Brolin, meanwhile, is effective enough without having to really do anything that requires true effort. His character almost never seems to be in any true danger, which leaves the actor with little to work with, given that his main conflict revolves around whether or not he'll be captured by the authorities. 

The biggest disappointment in the whole mess, though, is Reitman's direction. The director made a name for himself with sharply observant comedies like Juno, Up in the Air, and Young Adult. His transition to full blown drama, however lacks any of the success of his previous work. His indulgence in tired techniques (heavy-handed music, voice over) feels desperate. There's no intelligence behind any of it, and it all grows old far too quickly. His adaptation surrenders to the dramatic contrivances of its source material, rendering it all painfully trite. Labor Day isn't an intriguing new direction for a rising filmmaker. It's a numbingly bad misfire that ought to be stricken from the resumes of everyone involved. 

Grade: D+

Review: "Young Adult"

Over the course of his first three films, Jason Reitman explored three very different protagonists. First there was the charming big tobacco lobbyist in Thank You For Smoking, then the whip-smart pregnant teen in Juno, and finally the loner traveling corporate man in Up in the Air. Whatever their considerable differences, they at least shared one common trait, albeit in varying degrees: likeability. Sure, Eckhart's role in Smoking may be that of a man who sells poison, but by the story's end, he was a sympathetic character. This likeability, however, is where Reitman makes his biggest departure in his fourth film, Young Adult, which might feature the year's stand-out unlikeable protagonist (unless you're an avid hater of Margaret Thatcher and are still seething over the trailer for The Iron Lady).

Reuniting with Juno scribe Diablo Cody, Reitman's latest finds him returning to a female subject to scrutinize. She's Mavis Gary (Charlize Theron), a ghost writer for a series of Gossip Girl-esque young adult novels that is about to reach its end. Upon receiving an email that her old flame Buddy (Patrick Wilson) and his wife have just had their first child, Mavis returns to her tiny hometown with the delusional hope that she can win Buddy back because they're "meant to be together."

As with Up in the Air, Reitman uses the opening sequence to (almost wordlessly) establish Mavis within the confines of her Minneapolis apartment. She drinks, has Diet Coke for breakfast, and is accustomed to one night stands. But something's different here, and not exactly in a good way. The opening act of Young Adult is missing a sharpness, both in writing and in editing that made Up in the Air demand our attention so immediately. Though Cody's screenplay is generally devoid of the hipster-y quotability of Juno, the flip side of this is that it often feels like a first draft. The result is that the first chunk of the story often feels burdened with weird moments filled with nothing but dead air. This may be an attempt to show how empty and aimless Mavis' life is, but the execution left me feeling more like it was simply a usually on-point director missing his mark.

That the film gets off to such a rocky start is a shame, because Theron is clearly giving the role her all, even when the script feels like giving her only the thinnest of "nasty bitch" material to work with. The constant looks of emptiness and disgust Theron throws around should provide a constant jolt of dark humor, but more often then not they feel like wasted opportunities, because the character is a bitch simply because, well, she just is, okay???. But unlike, say, Shame, which never explored the source of Brandon's addiction, Young Adult never gives Mavis enough of an arc to make the time spent with the character feel fully earned. One could argue that she has something of a realization about how rotten she is, but it's not enough to make a solid case that she really changes, or will change. And if Mavis' stagnation is supposed to somehow be the point, Cody seems unconcerned with sharpening the point of the whole piece.

But even though the point may not quite be there, there's at least some material that's totally worth it. The film isn't exactly the dark comedy it's billed as (though it's dark), but a few moments do earn a decent, wicked laugh. As the story (which clocks in at a clean 90 minutes) moves through its acts, the dead air starts to fade away, and the character interactions feel better distilled, devoid of unintentional awkwardness or narrative flab. Largely, this is due to Theron's work as Mavis, which is so committed that you wish Cody and Reitman had taken a few months to really punch up the script so that the journey would be one that people recommend despite the protagonist's unlikeability. Instead, Young Adult leaves us with a decent enough film with a strong performance at its core. The work from other cast members, like Patton Oswalt, Wilson, and Collette Wolfe, is engaging, but not enough to really make a mark. The film is All About Mavis, but the problem is that Cody hasn't given the role quite enough meat, and the film suffers because of it, even though portions feel right on target. Young Adult is clearly meant to be an uncomfortable, darkly funny film, but at the end of the day it's neither uncomfortable nor darkly funny enough to really justify the journey it takes us on.

Grade: B-