Showing posts with label Jennifer Connelly. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jennifer Connelly. Show all posts

Sunday, March 30, 2014

Review: "Noah"


Director: Darren Aronofsky
Runtime: 138 minutes

When a director gets the chance to make the big-budget extravaganza of their dreams, it's difficult to ignore the offer. Yet large budgets have a history of being more restrictive than liberating when it comes to the studio system. For months, rumors have persisted that this was the case with Noah, Darren Aronofsky's long-awaited follow-up to Black Swan (a low budget smash hit). Talk of feuding between studio heads and the director caused worry that the latter had been forced to compromise his vision. Yet despite all of the thorny territory that comes with scripture-based films (Noah has been banned in several countries), Aronofsky's latest is undeniably his vision. It may be bigger and a touch broader, but Noah still fits perfectly in line with the rest of the director's filmography. 

Like all Aronofsky films, Noah centers on a figure who is consumed by a driving goal. In Black Swan, it was the quest to become the perfect ballerina. In The Fountain, it was a time-spanning crusade to overcome human mortality. Yet all of these goals stem from human forces. Noah, obviously, finds its titular protagonist (Russell Crowe) receiving a task from none other than God himself (here referred to as The Creator). Noah lives a peaceful existence with his wife Naameh (Jennifer Connelly), and three sons (Douglas Booth, Logan Lerman, and Leo Carroll). 

As the last descendants of Seth (brother of Cain and Abel), Noah and his kin live a life in harmony with nature. They use the land only for what they absolutely need, not even picking flowers. Unfortunately, Noah's way of life is often in danger of being swallowed up by the massive industrial cities filled with the descendants of Cain, who have figuratively and literally poisoned the world (can you spot the subversive environmental commentary?). So when the Creator gives Noah his famous task (communicated through a series of dreams and visions, rather than a conversation), he has no problem with the idea of humanity being completely destroyed.

Even amid some awkward establishing scenes, one of the strengths of Noah is how Aronofsky and co-writer Ari Handel cast Noah as a man whose obsessions lead to dark conclusions about his fellow men. Rather than consider himself superior to Cain's descendants, Noah sees himself as the last flicker of a race that deserves to be obliterated. His Old Testament fury is so strong that he considers it a blessing that his adopted daughter-in-law (Emma Watson) will be unable to bear his eldest son a child in the new world. As such, Crowe's casting helps bring the grizzled iteration of Noah believably to life. 

Crowe's cast members, sadly, are less fortunate. Aside from Watson, the rest of Noah's family are largely inconsequential stock characters. Jennifer Connelly tries her best to be a moral counter to Noah's rage, but her big moment is undermined by stilted dialogue. Booth, as Noah's oldest son, is barely a presence at all (though at least he's scene doing things, unlike poor Mr. Carroll as the youngest son). Logan Lerman as middle son Ham is easily the worst served by the screenplay. The idea for his motivation on the ark (which I'll leave unspoiled) is solid, and helps play off the contrasting ideaologies of Noah and his family. Yet Lerman spends most of his scenes staring in angsty befuddlement, his mouth hanging open enough that you wish someone would let him know, lest he start drooling on himself. 

In fairness, some of the blame lies with Aronofsky and editor Andrew Weisblum for constantly cutting back to these silly reactions, but Lerman certainly isn't doing anything to rise above the material. The last notable cast member, Ray Winstone's villainous king Tubal-Cain, isn't exactly good either, but at least he has overwrought dialogue to snarl through and a thoroughly off-putting beard.

It's the small scale parts, the characterizations, the emotional arcs, that give Noah trouble and keep it from being a full-blown triumph. Some significant developments are handled in a way that provokes unintended laughter. Some scenes do hit home, like an encounter between Crowe and  Watson during the ark's construction, but otherwise the supporting cast simply drift around Noah like distant moons.

When it comes to scale, however, Aronofsky's film is much more successful. Though the visual effects aren't uniformly strong, they're enough to get the job done without taking one out of the moment. It's hard not to share Noah's awe when hordes of birds, reptiles, and mammals fly, slither, and crawl aboard the ark in droves. More impressive than any real animals are the Watchers, fallen angels encrusted in rocky shells who come to Noah's aid. Surely one of the biggest departures from the Biblical text (though such creatures are mentioned in some parts of ancient Jewish lore), these hulking creatures are put to good use in the film as Noah's superhuman construction workers and defenders. No single Watcher is given an individual history, yet their collective struggle works in a way that many of the human characters don't. 

Working with many regular collaborators behind the camera, Aronofsky has created an appropriately grand-looking film that still possesses the right amount of roughness one would expect in such an ancient time. The interior of the ark, though often shrouded in swaths of darknesses, is effectively designed as a boxy cargo vessel, rather than a traditional ship, which fits in well with this grimier, grislier take on the tale. The big visual effects moments are also quite strong, with the build up and arrival of the flood set on an overwhelming scale. Most impressive, however, is the aftermath, when the film takes a moment to show the last descendants of Cain screaming for their lives on a rock being pounded by waves. Though at times too big for its own good, Clint Mansell's score ensures that every grand moment sounds even grander.

For all its visual grandeur, Noah is caught between its epic ambitions and its character-based drama. Were the film a one man show for Mr. Crowe, the journey might have felt more personal and better focused. Instead, the drama feels halfbaked, especially when contrasted with the admirable effort put into creating Noah's world and mythos. As far as scripture-based films go, Noah deserves praise for making the ancient story work to fit another man's vision. It doesn't pander the faithful, and its heart of darkness is able to lend the story more dynamism than a traditional treatment would have provided. Like the ark straining against the waves, Noah is able to hold off the negative effects of its weakness long enough to accomplish its Herculean task, even if it runs aground rather than come to a smooth landing.

Grade: B-

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Review: "Winter's Tale"


Director: Akiva Goldsman
Runtime: 118 minutes

The IMDB plot synopsis for Akiva Goldsman's Winter's Tale reads as follows: "A burglar falls for an heiress as she dies in his arms. When he learns that he has the gift of reincarnation, he sets out to save her." Are you simultaneously intrigued and stifling a laugh? Then you're probably the ideal audience for Mr. Goldsman's directorial debut, an attempt at magical realism that wields unapologetic sincerity as a blunt instrument. Too bad that said sincerity wasn't in service of something more coherent and engaging. 

Still coasting on the goodwill from his Oscar-winning screenplay for A Beautiful Mind, Goldsman's movie is more or less what its synopsis proclaims. Yet it is also so much more, often to a baffling degree. There are demons engaged in a vaguely defined spiritual war, a magic horse that turns into a Pegasus when convenient, and a cameo from a superstar actor as Lucifer that ranks as one of the stranger bits of stunt casting in recent memory.

The absurdity, however, isn't apparent right at the start. It's the turn of the century, and orphan Peter Lake (Colin Farrell) is on the run in New York City. He spends his time stealing small objects, and storing them in his home, the attic of Grand Central Station (very Hugo-esque, no?). Mr. Lake is in hiding because he's run afoul of his former thieves, led by the intimidating Pearly Soames (Russell Crowe, brogue-ing it up to high heaven). Things really get moving, however, when Peter is caught trying to rob the home of Beverly Penn (Jessica Brown Findlay of Downton Abbey fame). She has consumption, just like Satine in Moulin Rouge!, but without the dancing skills, and knows it's not long before she shuffles off of this mortal coil to keep the plot going. 

In between its risible dialogue ("Is it possible to love someone so completely that they never die?") and bland performances (aside from Mr. Crowe, who is spectacularly bad), Winter's Tale spends most of its time being marginally interesting, albeit in the dullest way possible. The reason to stick with it is simply to see where the whole nonsensical journey goes. Goldsman's adaptation of Mark Helprin's acclaimed novel is crippled by one of the worst hallmarks of bad fantasy: the rules of its world are poorly established, giving off the feeling that Goldsman is making things up as he goes along. There's a convenient answer for everything, and it usually involves the magical horse (who is named, wait for it, Horse). 

This leaves Winter's Tale without any stakes or tension. We have no sense of what's possible or not in this low fantasy world, so barely any of the pieces ever come together to produce a moment of legitimate interest. Again, the story is only interesting in so far as it leaves you wondering what sort of half-baked nonsense the script will churn out next. And this is before the time travel. Remember that reincarnation bit? Well, somewhere past the halfway point, Peter winds up in present day Manhattan, and I'm not sure I can go any further without slipping into a state of slack-jawed awe. 

Even from a technical point, Mr. Goldsman's film is thoroughly lackluster. Despite a solid budget of $60 million, the entire film is shot and colored in murky shades of blue, grey, and beige. By contrast, something as sumptuous as 2012's Anna Karenina was made for a fraction of the cost. Other aspects, like costumes, sets, and music, range from bland to just slightly above adequate.   

Yet the question remains: just how bad is it? Well, it's certainly bad. Very bad. But, I must confess, the film's total sincerity is its own weird saving grace of sorts. It commits to this mushy fantastical nonsense, dammit, and that's probably the reason I felt no anger towards anyone involved. Winter's Tale isn't decent enough to be a noble failure, but it doesn't quite stoop low enough to be a disgrace. It's a film that's trying, yet simply putting all of its effort in all of the wrong places. 

Grade: C-

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Toronto Review Round Up: "What's Wrong With Virginia?"



Two years ago Dustin Lance Black wrote a screenplay for a little movie called Milk, and it kind of went over well with the Academy. Two years later, Black's latest, which he also directs, is opening in at the TIFF in hopes of finding a distributor. Unfortunately, if these first reviews are any indication, there could be quite a bit wrong with "Virginia."


Cinema Blend's Katey Rich is mixed on the film, and says that it is "all over the place in every imaginable way...vacillating wildly from camp to melodrama to harsh satire and back again." However, she's kind to the performances, particularly Jennifer Connelly's weave, about whom she writes, "Connelly has rarely looked more fragile or dangerous," and calls the performance "her best work in years."
Slightly less kind is The Hollywood Reporter's Michael Rechtshaffen, who summarizes the film as "an unfortunately curdled misfire." He gives no praise (or criticism) to the performances, but repeatedly takes Black's tone to task, and says that the film is "tonally all over the place" and that "what's wrong with Virginia is small potatoes compared to what's wrong with this film." Howard Feinstein at Screen Daily continues in the same vein, and says that while the film starts out with promise, "the screenplay becomes as overloaded as a packed rollercoaster, testing the viewer's patience along the way and offering little in the way of pay off."

Additional Reviews: [awaiting]

Toronto Verdict: [awaiting]