Review: "Louder Than Bombs"

Director: Joachim Trier
Runtime: 105 minutes


Next to suffering, grief is one of the trickiest emotions to deal with in storytelling, especially when it involves conveying said story on film or TV. Each of us grieves in our own ways, but movies and TV tend to get trapped in a reductive binary. If you're going to mourn on camera, you'll either explode with histrionics (pulling of hair, gnashing of teeth, etc...), or let your emotions hibernate as you become a zombie. Exceptions to the rule, like Joachim Trier's Louder Than Bombs, are noteworthy because they capture grief as a spectrum. Norwegian director Trier, on his third film (and his first in English), continues to prove himself as an intelligent observer of complex emotional terrain.

Trier's first two films were confined to the head-spaces of single characters, while his new venture tackles four. Oh, and one of them - photographer Isabelle Reed (Isabelle Huppert) - happens to be dead. Yet she's very much alive in the film's flashbacks and dream sequences. Isabelle's death hangs over the film, but Trier writes the role as more than a symbolic specter. Isabelle watches on from the past (and beyond the grave), her husband (Gabriel Byrne) and two sons (Jesse Eisenberg and Devin Druid) open up old wounds. Setting things off is the news that Isabelle's former co-worker (David Strathairn) plans to reveal the real reason for her death in an article ahead of an upcoming tribute/exhibition at a museum.

It's quite a leap in ambition, and one that could have easily left Louder Than Bombs feeling scattered and messy. There's also the film's tone, which keeps things as quiet as possible at all times (from the performances to the music and the sound work). At first, Trier seems stuck in the cinematic grief binary, leaving his characters to wander around upstate New York morosely, often alone and shielded by headphones.

Yet even with the sense of distance that pervades every sleepily-lit scene, Trier and Eskil Vogt's script gradually blossoms into a thing of restrained beauty. Rather than try to capture every ounce of the grief spectrum, Bombs pries open one side and reveals its nuances, of which there are many. What's left unspoken or left hanging is just as important as the words, and the screenplay - along with Trier's deft, un-showy visual sense - manages to stealthily dig into the core of four deeply layered (and traumatized) people. The biggest, potentially explosive moments are filtered through a noise dampener. It's less immediately compelling, but it also aids the film in developing its characters with the precision of a laser-cutter. 

Every bit as detailed and intelligent are the performances, which are uniformly excellent from the central quartet to smaller roles filled out by invested and committed actors (Strathairn, Amy Ryan, Rachel Brosnahan). Trier plays around with how he groups his actors together, yet there's no combination that feels like a weak link. Byrne and Eisenberg have a genial relationship that eventually hits some rather nasty bumps, while Byrne and Druid start off barely speaking to each other at all. And Isabelle's interactions with the men in her life are each as complex. Byrne is quietly dignified throughout, never trapped by potential limitations of a stoic widower. Huppert is, as ever, a formidable screen presence, capable of blending steely independence with shattering vulnerability. Druid is the surprise of the cast, holding his own against an impressive array of better known (and more experienced) faces. The film climaxes, to an extent, with his character's arc, and Druid keeps the frustrating aspects of the role completely in line. Ditto for Eisenberg, whose character does and says some truly horrendous things (in many cases, the cruelty comes from what he and the audience, but not other characters, know). 

These vantage points converge in fascinating ways, and Trier never lets them fall out of balance. Louder Than Bombs is somewhat fragmented in structure, but the flow from one segment to the next never misfires. The emotional complexity on display is, in the film's own quiet way, fascinating. Trier and Vogt's juxtapositions are thought-provoking and informative without giving too much away throughout. From the almost too-distant beginning to the incomplete completion of the ending, Trier's film ebbs and flows according to its own haunting, perplexing rhythms. 

Grade: B+/A-

Review: "Night Moves"

Director: Kelly Reichardt

Runtime: 116 minutes

Nothing captures the effect of Night Moves quite like a simple, recurring shot in its most significant sequence. The camera sits at the front of a speed boat as it languidly, uneasily drifts toward a hydroelectric dam in the dark of night. Each return to this shot, intercut with reactions of the film's three main characters, is a masterful example of unbearable tension handled with the utmost restraint. The same is true of the film as whole. Writer/director Kelly Reichardt's seventh full length film, despite its stately pace, is a major accomplishment that delicately balances psychological drama with (relatively) traditional thriller elements. 

In the same way that David Gordon Green's Joe was the movie Jeff Nichols' Mud should have been, Night Moves feels like the more successful version of last year's Brit Marling vehicle The East. Both films revolve around environmental extremism, as well as characters caught between their ideaologies and their emotions. Yet where The East was caught between indie minimalism and marketable broad appeal, Night Moves is distinct in its voice and style. 

Despite the modest scale of her films, Reichardt is no longer a filmmaker who shies away from established names. In Wendy and Lucy, Reichardt worked wonders with actress Michelle Williams in an otherwise bare bones work. Here, she has three times as many name actors anchoring her film, and all of them do so exceptionally. 

Those three actors are, in order of importance/screentime, Jesse Eisenberg, Dakota Fanning, and Peter Sarsgaard. Even as the film gradually pushes Eisenberg to center stage, Night Moves remains committed to its characters. Personalities are naturally established, then quietly subverted, which makes for compelling viewing despite Reichardt's typically slow approach to storytelling. Eisenberg's twitchy, reptilian nerviness is put to excellent use here, allowing his gifts to show without coming off as redundant. Whether lingering in the background or wrestling with his own moral code, Eisenberg once again shows himself to be a stellar, albeit unconventional, leading man. 

Fanning and Sarsgaard effortlessly back up Eisenberg in their wildly different roles as his accomplices. Though Fanning's sardonic aloofness at the outset is initially off-putting, the actress gracefully switches gears as the character's buried insecurities come to the surface. Watching her crumble in front of Eisenberg is not only compelling, but a fulfillment of the promise she showed when she first broke out as a young child. Sarsgaard makes a nice foil for Fanning and Eisenberg, as the trio's oldest (and military-trained) member and would-be mentor. 

Yet Night Moves would amount to little were it not for Reichardt's steady hand behind the scenes. Her work with regular writing partner Jonathan Raymond is rich with psychological drama without overstating point. The extremism on display is neither lionized nor condemned. It's simply the driving force of the story that allows Reichardt and Raymond to tell such a subtly gripping tale of desperate actions, as well as the unsettling aftermath of such actions.

Reichardt's directing takes the strong foundation laid by the script and fluidly translates it to the screen. Working with cinematographer Christopher Blauvelt (and handling editing duties herself), Reichardt makes the most of her meager budget and creates a visual experience that earns its place on the big screen. Jeff Grace's minimal, atmospheric music only enhances the superlative visual storytelling on display. Instead of straining for something epic, Night Moves unfolds with sporadically poetic moments of visual storytelling. These scenes, such as one where the activists drift through a group of bare, decaying trees, speak more elegantly than dialogue ever could in such a setting. 

The potential stumbling block for audiences will simply be whether Eisenberg's repetitive actions in the second half feel effective or indulgent. At just under two hours, Night Moves certainly takes its time reaching its open-ended conclusion, which will prove suitably gripping for some, and tediously protracted for others (count me in the former group). If you get caught up in Night Moves' slow burn, however, you're in for quite the ride. Reichardt's style is an inspired match for this sort of psychological-thriller set-up, and the way she toys with narrative structure pays off beautifully for the film's character-driven side. The director's latest may be drifting along at a leisurely rate, but enough is going on under the glassy surface to ensure that you grip your armrests just a little tighter. 

Grade: B+/A-

Trailer: "To Rome with Love"

Though not set for release until June 22, Sony has finally rolled out a first look at Woody Allen's follow-up to Midnight in Paris, which became the director's biggest financial success and earned him another writing Oscar. Allen's track record seems to go one hit, then one or two misses, which doesn't bode well for To Rome with Love, though that's hardly concrete evidence to go on. I'd love for Allen's love letter to Italy, which features three separate narratives, to be his second successive success for any number of reasons. First, it's the first time in a while that Allen has appeared on screen in addition to writing and directing. Second, the cast is wonderful, and the three narratives should keep things lively. Allen has quite the cast assembled (as per usual), and the material here looks both engaging and funny (Judy Davis' jab at Allen's IQ and his line about the family of his daughter's boyfriend are gold). I don't like that so much of the Baldwin-Eisenberg-Page-Gerwig segment is spoiled while the other two segments reveal less, but hopefully there are still some surprises left over. Surprise worked well for Midnight in Paris, which teased none of its time travel in the trailer, so here's hoping there's something else to the triptych of stories than the obvious.


Trailer Grade: B

[Short] Review(s): "Rise of the Planet of the Apes," "The Help," "The Devil's Double," & "30 Minutes or Less"

Rise of the Planet of the Apes dir. Rupert Wyatt: You'd think that a franchise like Planet of the Apes was long past its expiration date. Despite the original's status as something of a science fiction classic, the subsequent films seemed all-too-eager to jump down the rabbit hole into absurdity. If ever there was a series that needed to be retired from the silver screen (aside from Transformers), it was this one, right? Well, not exactly. The latest entry, a prequel/origin story, takes audiences back to where it all began, with surprisingly successful results.

Opening with a PETA approved scene that demonstrates the EVIL nature of man, we follow a captured primate who is taken to GenSys, an American drug company currently on the threshold of a cure for Alzheimer's. Here we get a rather cliched set up, involving two different men in the company. Will (James Franco) wants the cure to go through for science/humanity, while Steven (David Oyelowo), wants it to succeed for the money (guess which one gets his comeuppance by the time the film's 105 minute run time is up).

But even though there are plenty of obvious elements in the latest Apes flick, Rise does manage to create a mildly compelling story, never letting itself be overburdened by its we-know-where-this-is-going plot. The human characters may be plain, but thankfully, the film has a secret weapon: the ape Caesar, motion-captured/played by Andy Serkis of Lord of the Rings fame. The more that Rupert Wyatt's film focuses on Caesar, the stronger the story becomes. The ape's interactions may be near-wordless, but they resonate on deeper level, thanks to Serkis' excellent work and the outstanding visual effects work. In an age where so many movies are sunk by their over-reliance on VFX, Rise may be that rare film that benefits (and is saved by) the strength of its computer-captured/generated imagery.

Grade: B-


The Help dir. Tate Taylor: While this adaptation of Kathryn Stockett's best-seller may lack in terms of subtlety, it is, at its core, an effective piece of social-change cinema. Led by Emma Stone, the ensemble is filled with any number of strong performances from Viola Davis (the film's MVP), Octavia Spencer, Jessica Chastain, Allison Janney, Bryce Dallas Howard, and Sissy Spacek.

So even though it runs quite long, and resorts to quite a bit of 'telling,' the film does hit home in the right places, even though it takes longer than expected for the main plot to kick into gear. The Help may indeed be schmaltz at its core, but it never feels like it. There's no overbearing, sappy score or soundtrack, nor are there an overabundance of melodramatic scenes (it's actually laugh-out-loud funny in many places). And with such a talented ensemble to lead you through the story, smaller elements of the plot (like Stone's budding relationship with an oil rig worker played by Chris Lowell) don't seem like too much of a nuisance, even when they appear and then vanish from the rest of the film.

But perhaps its greatest strength may be that, while it's full of hopeful and uplifting moments of personal triumph, The Help never tries to overextend itself. The film's final scene, which took me by surprised when the credits started to roll, certainly holds the promise of tomorrow, but only after one character is confronted with a bitter dose of revenge courtesy of the story's antagonist. By keeping this balance in place, and by not pretending that its characters accomplished more than they did for the Civil Rights movement (it is a work of fiction, after all), The Help is able to simultaneously inform and entertain without shooting itself in the foot.

Grade: B


The Devil's Double dir. Lee Tamahori: It's not every day that an actor is given a chance to play dual roles on screen, so the opportunity has to be taken seriously (see: Nicholas Cage in Adaptation, Sam Rockwell in Moon, etc...). Now it's Dominic Cooper's (Mamma Mia!, An Education) turn to play the double game, in the form of Uday Hussein, and Latif Yahia, the man forced to become his double. But even though his efforts in the two roles (he's on screen as one or the other for almost the entire run time) are admirable, he's undermined by a script that isn't quite on the same level.

Latif's (admittedly incredible) story may be true, but director Lee Tamahori and screenwriter Michael Thomas seem more concerned with turning it into a modern day, Arabic Scarface (albeit with significantly less crazed shouting). In doing so, they've made the film consistently entertaining. The unfortunate by-product is that it renders the story a surface-only historical thriller. Cooper is certainly giving it his all as the increasingly frightening Uday, the trapped Latif, and as Latif pretending to be Uday. In many scenes the characters share the screen, and Cooper plays off of himself quite well. But despite his efforts, he can't quite overcome the shallow writing. Cooper is rarely given much to work with other than "be wary and uncertain," and "be a murdering/raping pyscho"; the roles are played well, yes, but there's absolutely no depth for Cooper to work with as an actor.

This is not to say that the film doesn't tell a compelling story. That much it accomplishes. The problem is, especially considering the story's real-life origins, that The Devil's Double never makes any attempt to go deeper with the material at hand. Thomas' script plays it safe, and keeps the story simple, never raising any larger questions outside of "what comes next for Latif?" So even though Cooper may be working his hardest, The Devil's Double winds up being something of a missed opportunity, as enjoyable as it is.

Grade: B-


30 Minutes or Less dir. Ruben Fleischer: The idea of Jesse Eisenberg reteaming with Ruben Fleischer was definitely appealing on paper. The pair first worked together on Zombieland, one of the great hidden gems of 2009. Sadly, lightning hasn't struck twice for these two. 30 Minutes or Less isn't a terrible movie, but it is vastly inferior to the duo's last collaboration, and barely even memorable.

Based loosely on real events, the film centers around Nick (Eisenberg) a slacker pizza delivery boy who gets roped into a scheme by two idiot criminals (Danny McBride and Nick Swardson). With a bomb strapped to his chest, Nick is given nine hours to rob a bank, lest he be blown to smithereens by his captors. What follows is an appropriately crazy story, filled with car chases, stand-offs, and yes, a bank robbery. Some of the banter (between McBride and Swardson or Eisenberg and Aziz Ansari) is entertaining, and occaisionally worth a good laugh. The problem, though, is that the characters are underwritten from the start, and given the plot, never have time to develop. That Nick is something of a jackass during the first act doesn't help matters.

Fleischer certainly hasn't lost his flair for fun, at the very least. The car chase is well staged and shot, and a scene involving McBride's father creeping through his own home to find and intruder is surprisingly effective in creating some low-key tension. Michael Pena also gets a few laughs as a crazy hit man with a bizarre accent. Other characters, however, aren't so effective. A prostitute who leads McBride to Pena is a complete throwaway, while Dilshad Vansaria (as Ansari's sister) is there strictly to function as a plot device. They feel like flab, which is distracting considering the film's short run time (83 mins). So even though Fleischer's latest is pleasant enough to sit through, it's also proof that less doesn't always mean more.

Grade: C+/C