AFI Fest 2014: "Mr. Turner"

Director: Mike Leigh
Runtime: 150 minutes

Like the paintings of J.M.W. Turner, Mr. Turner works best when examined from afar. Mike Leigh has crafted a beautiful looking film that's often high enjoyable. Yet Britain's keenest observer of the human condition has perhaps done a little too much, well, observing with his latest effort. Turner's personality and his actions are clearly shown, but Leigh stays too far back and never gets to the heart of Turner's motivations outside of the most obvious interpretations. Timothy Spall, who picked up Best Actor at Cannes this year, does his best in the title role, but he's often reduced to playing up the same ticks long after they wear out their welcome. The real Turner painted with intense brushstrokes and head-turning amounts of detail at the smallest level. Mr. Turner, by contrast, barely completes a charcoal sketch by the time its two and a half hours come to a close.

Following the last 25 years of Turner's life, Mr. Turner's pacing is far from rushed. The artist paints, has meetings with potential patrons, and interacts with London's high society, among whom he is universally revered. By starting the film with Turner at the highpoint of his career, Leigh never has to rush through the early stretches of the film to reach any critical moment in his subject's life for the sake of drama. 

Leigh has built a reputation on allowing heavy amounts of improvisation from his actors, but Mr. Turner finds him working with far more pre-constructed material (or at least it feels that way). The film's runtime seems daunting, but Leigh's relatively tighter pacing of his scenes keeps the story from dragging. Even without much of a conventional narrative, Mr. Turner is filled with enough humor and beautiful craftsmanship to ensure that it's never less than pleasurable to experience. Leigh's longtime cinematographer Dick Pope has done of beautiful job of lighting the film like one of Turner's signature paintings, highlighting the exemplary work of the costume and set designers. Turner was known as a master of light, and Pope proves that's he's one as well, despite working in a radically different medium.

But all of that meticulously appointed beauty can't make up for the lack of insight given to Turner himself. Spall is clearly immersed in the role, but that immersion doesn't mean as much when it's not dealing with incisive writing. At times, Turner comes off as porcine cartoon of a man who grunts his way through scenes and then pinches his face in an unintentional Robert De Niro impression. The most compelling and empathetic character in Mr. Turner, shockingly, is Mrs. Booth (Marion Bailey), a widow who becomes Turner's last romantic partner. When Booth describes the loss of her first husband, some semblance of grounded human emotion starts to break through all of the handsome visuals. Sadly, moments like Mrs. Booth's recounting of her loss are few in number. Bailey has an affable screen presence that contrasts nicely with Spall's brusque eccentricity, and she stealthily becomes the heart of the story. If only the screenplay was willing to recognize this.

Instead, Turner's behavior, which at times is lecherous, is presented so plainly that one wonders if Leigh even has a point of view about the man's character. A point of view can be presented without manipulating the audience, but Mr. Turner prefers to stay too many steps back. Only when Leigh lets the viewer see the intensity of Turner's painting techniques does the character's genius come to light. But technique can only take a film or a performance so far. Mr. Turner shows Leigh and Spall working so thoroughly on their technique while forgetting to get into the intentions behind those techniques. Once the last brushstroke dries, there's little more to do than shake one's head in muted admiration before moving on to the next section of the gallery.

Grade: B- 

Review: "Maleficent"

Director: Robert Stromberg
Runtime: 97 minutes

I'm sure there are loads of think pieces out there blasting Hollywood for repeatedly giving cinematographers, visual effects supervisors, and the like the director's chair for big budget tentpoles. I'm sure those think pieces make many valid points, and I'm sure they make them quite well. Yet this review only has room to target one such person inexplicably charged with directing ("directing") a major star vehicle. His name is Robert Stromberg, and he deserves to be verbally tarred and feathered for the visually bloated disaster that is Disney's Maleficent.

The latest in a line of live action re-imaginings of classic Disney fairy tales (next up: Brannagh does Cinderella! No, really. It's a thing.), Maleficent easily deserves to go down as the worst of the lot. What should be an enjoyable, even if generic, showcase for a brilliantly cast Angelina Jolie, is a sluggish, ineptly-handled attempt at summer entertainment.

As much as the camera loves Jolie as the iconic Sleeping Beauty villain (now a tragic antihero), even she can't overcome Linda Woolverton's abysmal script and Stromberg's unbearably hack-y directing. Small moments here and there work (Jolie's handling of baby Aurora's christening scene is dynamite), but they're nothing more than drops in the ocean. 

And even though Maleficent is bad, it's shocking how baffling its badness truly is on all fronts. Despite a visual effects supervisor in the director's chair, there are a distracting number of scenes with jarring, shoddy green screen work. Not helping matters are the plastic-y CGI creations, which look like rejects from 2012's Snow White and the Huntsman. 

Just as bad is the editing, which is somehow the work of two people, and not a single, overeager film student. When the cutting isn't merely getting the job done, it goes of in puzzling, risible ways. There are artificial snap zooms, "dramatic" blurry effects, as well as other trademarks of the "more is better" school of editing. 

Before I become as big of a mess as Maleficent, I must return to Ms. Woolverton and her writing. There are cliches, and there are painful cliches. Maleficent is overflowing with the latter. Worst of all is the painfully forced comic relief, which puts wonderful actresses like Imelda Staunton, Leslie Manville, and Juno Temple in some truly embarrassing situations. I can't remember the last time I felt so, so bad for a group of actors working with bottom-of-the-barrel material. May they all find their way into a Mike Leigh movie as soon as possible. 

Alas, I'm losing focus. Elle Fanning is in this movie too, though her radiant self shows up far too late to undo any of the damage wrought by Stromberg, Woolverton, and their merry band of fools. The only thing done remotely right is the reworking of Sleeping Beauty's waking from true love's kiss. It's a genuinely nice touch (albeit eye-rollingly foreshadowed) that subverts the outdated love-at-first-sight ideology of the animated film. If only it were put to use in a story that was being told with some semblance of intelligence or care (I'd say "and," but I think I'd be setting the bar a bit too high). 

In fact, Maleficent is such a wreck that I don't even want to see it remade by more capable hands. Hollywood had its chance for a Maleficent-centric fairy tale for this generation, and it has failed spectacularly. I have enjoyed all of the film's major actors on multiple occasions (I'll overlook Oldboy, Sharlto Copley), yet there's no room to give any praise that's more than half-hearted. Jolie's devilish grin is nice and all, but even all of her star wattage is suffocated by the excess of visual effects and miserable craftsmanship. 

Jolie and company are lucky that their film opened on the same weekend as Seth MacFarlane's A Million Ways to Die in the West. By being put up against that would-be comedy, they have, by the grace of God, been made to look like the lesser of two evils. Yet the lesser of two evils remains an evil, and not even of the so-bad-it's-good variety. Millions upon millions were spent upon this soul-less mess of a movie. Do your part and make sure that Maleficent struggles to recoup its considerable costs. The actors' careers will remain unscathed, and hopefully Mr. Stromberg's will meet a swift end. 

Grade: D- 

"Another Year" - REVIEW

The title and premise of Mike Leigh's latest film, Another Year, suggests the potential for a lagging, meandering, and weightless slice of life. It's the sort of film that could have easily sunk into tedium, especially considering its two hour run time and very limited plot/story. And yet through a key stylistic difference (I'll explain in a minute) and a strong group of performances, Another Year turns out to be one of the director's finest, and this is coming from someone who isn't exactly a fan of his.

Tom and Gerri (Jim Broadbent and Ruth Sheen) are a happily married couple living in the London area, and over the course of the film (broken up into four segments; one for each season), we see them interact with various friends and relatives, usually at a meal or outing. Yet the film doesn't begin with Tom or Gerri. An entire first scene goes by without either of the two appearing, and the focus of the scene is on a woman who only appears once more (in the very next scene) in the entire film (Imelda Staunton). On the other end of things, the film concludes with a lingering shot on someone other than Tom or Gerri as well. I bring this up because it plays into the strange discussion that has dominated talk of the film's awards season prospects: is actress Lesley Manville - as Tom and Gerri's friend Mary - in a leading or supporting role. Judging the film based on how it begins and ends, I got the sense that while Tom and Gerri ground the film, they aren't exactly the leads (at least not the primary leads). We may not see Mary at home or by herself, but she's the character we get to know best over the course of the film.

Either way, it's a shame that Manville has been largely overlooked over the course of awards season, because her work here stands among the best of the year, lead or supporting. Mary may not exactly have her life together (as evidenced by the jumpy manner in which she moves and talks), but Manville is careful not to take the performance to the point where she becomes annoying or exhausting. And part of this is, perhaps, due to one of the key changes that Leigh seems to have made in this film: he's either cut down on improvisation, or his direction and his actors have made their improvisation less obvious. So even though the film may still feel a little long in some parts (the final section, Winter, goes on just a little too long), the film has the overall feeling of being better constructed and less open than much of Leigh's previous work.

This is also, in large part, due to the strength of the performances. Manville may be the MVP here, but she's beautifully backed up by Broadbent and Sheen, along with smaller turns from David Bradley (AKA Mr. Filch from Harry Potter) and a stunning cameo performance from Imelda Staunton. Staunton in particular nails her two scenes at the film's beginning as a woman whose situation, though never specified, is in shambles. Despite the bleak nature of her scenes, she's one of the supporting characters you wish that Leigh would bring back in. Alas, that might have proven to be too much, and would have weighed down the film's happier segments (Spring and Summer).

But this is where we come to one of the problems with the film. Despite the general quiet warmth of the film, at times it does seem a little condescending. Everyone around Tom and Gerri is usually a mess of some sort, and they're all single, whether through divorce (Mary) or death (Tom's brother). The film seems to treat Tom and Gerri as slightly superior to everyone else simply because they're a happy couple, as though the only way to achieve happiness and stability in life is to be with someone. It's not a glaring issue, but it rears its head enough times to make it somewhat noticeable. The last shot also seems to reinforce this (while simultaneously evoking Mary as actually being the film's lead). For Tom and Gerri, the course of the film really does depict just another year, but for people like Mary, it depicts another year of loneliness and dissatisfaction.

Thankfully this is an issue that never becomes so prominent as to drag down the entire film. Leigh's writing, while a times a little drawn out, is effective at showing the connections among his characters, and his actors do a strong job of projecting a sense of camaraderie. And while it may not be as heartwarming as it's been advertised, it rings true enough in the right places to remain effective without becoming hopeless or bleak. And despite its title, it certainly deserves to be given a chance, because this is more than just Another Mike Leigh Film; it's one of his best.

Grade: B/B+