Review: "Allied"

Director: Robert Zemeckis
Runtime: 124 minutes

All's murky in love and war, especially when you and your spouse have both spent time working the international espionage racket. So goes the world of Robert Zemeckis' Allied, which oscillates between Casablanca homage and grim antidote to Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Despite a twisty set up, generally strong production values, and solid performances, Allied comes up short when it's time to wrap up its mission.

While much of what we see on screen has a welcome Old Hollywood gloss, Zemeckis' recent love of visual effects starts Allied off on a distractingly modern note. A rather embarrassing opening shot follows a hilariously fake parachute landing into a desert landscape that's only marginally more convincing. Emerging from the fakery is Max Vattan (Brad Pitt), who has arrived in French Morocco to meet up with a French resistance operative to take out a Nazi ambassador in Casablanca. The operative turns out to be Marianne Beausejour (Marion Cotillard, in full Golden Age glamor mode), who helps Max pose as her (fake) husband prior to the assassination. For Marianne, the trick lies in keeping the fakery of their work grounded in some kernel of authenticity.

It's notion that Cotillard pulls off beautifully, making it all the more frustrating that the film around her often fails do follow suit. Allied's sets and costumes are richly designed, but there is often a certain sheen to the imagery which goes beyond romanticism and into fakery. An early scene set in a Casablanca plaza looks the part at first glance, but the longer you soak it in, the more it appears to take place in a vacuum. Tilt the camera the wrong direction by just an inch or two, and the framework of the soundstage would make an unwelcome appearance.

Thankfully, things improve once the action moves back to England. Max and Marianne's fake relationship blossoms into a genuine one, and they settle down and have a baby. Then, right on schedule, the other shoe drops: British intelligence informs Max that Marianne may be a deep cover Nazi spy, and that he'll need to set up a trap to prove her innocence or guilt. 

The answers that eventually come our way, courtesy of screenwriter Steven Knight, largely prove satisfying. Whatever quibbles one might have with the plot's internal logic, Allied boasts enough first rate design and star power to allow for comfortable suspension of disbelief in the moment. But while Knight's story is a fun guessing game, Zemeckis' direction often gets in the way. Allied's opening passages are punishingly slow, with the build up to the assassination taking up far too much time. The Casablanca scenes lay the necessary groundwork with clues and red herrings, but Zemeckis directs on autopilot through much of it. Spycraft lives or dies by the details, but in Allied, those details exist as exposition that need to be trudged through before getting on to the good stuff.

By the time Allied finally introduces the question of Marianne's innocence, you might be ready for the story to just end already. But wait, there's more! The superior second half, when finally given room to take off, is no faster than the opening, but it moves with more confidence and better sustains the intrigue. Act 1 is an overlong obligation, while Act 2 gets to the heart of the matter. Livening things up are short performances from a strong group of supporting performances filled out by the likes of Jared Harris, Lizzy Caplan (kudos for including an LGBT character), Matthew Goode, and Simon McBurney.

Without enough genuine character development to support the film's star power, however, the bulk of Allied never consistently catches fire. The twists, thankfully, give the story more heft by providing questions worth considering (as opposed to derailing the plot, which they easily could have). Allied's eventual conclusion is convincingly solemn, in large part thanks to Cotillard's multifaceted performance. The story's lack of focus, coupled with Zemeckis' lack of verve, leaves you with the feeling that you've just witnessed a halfhearted take on what could have been a tense mix of romance and thrills. At least Cotillard provides the fizz in an otherwise flat concoction.

Grade: C

Review: "Macbeth"

Director: Justin Kurzel
Runtime: 120 minutes

There's rugged beauty in everything from the landscapes to the people in Macbeth, but sadly little poetry. Australian director Justin Kurzel has made a handsome and gritty adaptation of one of Shakespeare's best and most iconic plays, but never pushes beyond the surface of the Bard's language. In an odd twist, the best and most consistent aspect of this Macbeth comes from the lone non-native English-speaker among the principal players. In fleeting moments, Kurzel's stylstic ambitions find harmony with the source material, but these instance are the exception, rather than the norm.

Not much has been changed in this latest telling of the Scottish play. There are some key omissions (no "double double" chant from the witches; no "stars, hide your light" from Macbeth), but when it comes to words, Kurzel has hardly bastardized the material. At least on the page. Right from the start, this Macbeth strains for ominous atmospherics through Adam Arkapaw's rich, primordial images and Jed Kurzel's sinister, droning score. Were this an experimental, dialogue-free production, things might have turned out differently. 

Yet when the actors open their mouths to start working their way through the centuries-old dialogue, they fumble. Yes, even Michael Fassbender in the titular role. Most of the cast appear to be saying the words as if at a first glance at the script. There's some authenticity thanks to the guttural, mouth-full-of-glass accents, but no true connection. The words hang there when they should draw one in to this sordid tale as much as the visuals. Yet when Macbeth wonders aloud about whether or not he should kill King Duncan (David Thewlis), none of the source material's complexity registers. Shakespeare chose words carefully. Most of the actors here just try to get through them as if having a banal exchange over coffee.

A pity, then, that there isn't more of Lady Macbeth (Marion Cotillard) in Kurzel's film. The French actress, perhaps because she has to work harder to navigate the dialogue, ends up dominating the entire film. By the time the film is over, you'll be left wanting a revisionist take on the play that centers around Cotillard's interpretation of the character. Without even trying to put on an unnatural accent, she not only gets through the dialogue, but actually sounds as if she truly understands every little nuance of what she's saying. Though this production firmly relegates Lady Macbeth (one of theater's all-time great characters for women) to supporting status, there's no question as to who the star is here. Thankfully, one of the times in which Kurzel's direction works comes at the iconic "Out, damned spot!" sequence, a marvel of simplicity that is mostly done in a lengthy close up. Clad in white robes, illuminated by a pale shaft of wintery light, Cotillard almost makes the whole film worth it just for her work in this one scene. 

Other well-known moments from the play don't fare as well. The witches who deliver Macbeth's prophecy and Banquo's ghost are presented in visually inert scenes that do little to add mystery or distortion. Some allowance can be given to the witches, but when Macbeth addresses Banquo's ghost in a room full of people, it feels as if everyone else can see the specter as well. There's no sense of perspective, and a moment that should unsettle and haunt instead plods along. 

In trying so hard to pump up the visual component of his adaptation, Kurzel often misses the power of the dialogue. Had he stripped the text to the core and cut out as much dialogue as possible, this wouldn't have been such an issue. But in trying to keep the dialogue while also shoe-horning in visual flourishes (super slow-motion! apocalyptic red filters on the camera!), the film feels at odds with itself. Macbeth's talk of "sound and fury/signifying nothing," has, unfortunately, rarely felt more appropriate.

Grade: C+

AFI Fest 2014: "Two Days, One Night"

Director(s): Jean-Pierre & Luc Dardenne
Runtime: 95 minutes

The entire plot of Two Days, One Night, from Belgian filmmakers Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardennes, would exist as a mere montage in other stories. Yet the Dardennes are rarely ones to race through stories, and spend their films unpacking the smaller moments in the lives of the working class. Two Days, One Night is instantly recognizable as a Dardenne bros. film, yet it also finds the directing duo working with a rarely seen sense of urgency in their storytelling. It's a classic ticking clock scenario, as filtered through the grounded, humanist viewpoint that the brothers have honed over their careers. The race against time makes for a more accessible film without watering down the Dardennes' skills behind the camera.

For Sandra (Marion Cotillard), the story's shrinking window of opportunity is a matter of life and death. Sandra's boss at her factory job has given the rest of the staff an ultimatum: Sandra keeps her job, or everyone else gets a bonus. With the vote set for the following Monday, Sandra only has the upcoming weekend to canvas the 16 co-workers to get enough votes to keep her job and keep her family from going on welfare. Though Sandra has support from her husband and a few co-workers already, she must also face her own doubts about herself, made worse by a recent bout of crippling depression.

Initially, the depression angle seems poised to get in the way of the time sensitive story. The Dardennes make Cotillard cry and collapse so much in the first 20 or 30 minutes and it doesn't feel earned. We know Sandra's situation, but we haven't spent enough time with her for this series of mini-breakdowns to mean anything. Instead of discarding the depression, however, the Dardennes keep it yoked to the main story. Thankfully, it's a decision that ultimately works in the film's favor. Two Days, One Night's plot is the epitome of simplicity (90% is Sandra finding and talking to her colleagues), and as Sandra gathers more confidence, the film becomes significantly better at linking her depression to her more obvious struggle.

Sandra is one of the Dardennes' best protagonists, and Cotillard (arguably the biggest star they've worked with) is perfect casting for the role. Even when forced to cry more than necessary, she beautifully captures Sandra's desperation and her self doubt, which the depression certainly doesn't help with. Despite the tears, this is one of Cotillard's most restrained, naturalistic roles. Thanks to the Dardennes, it's also one of the actresses' finest performances, easily rivaling her Oscar-winning turn as Edith Piaf, albeit on a different end of the dramatic spectrum. Her eyes seem more expressive than ever, and she's also begun to tap into her expressive face with subtle twists of her mouth. 

Beyond Cotillard front and center work, it's impressive how well the Dardennes keep Two Days, One Night from falling into simplicity. Sandra's co-workers, even those who vote in her favor, all have valid reasons for wanting their bonuses. Some refuse to vote for Sandra with solemn respect, while others are outright hostile. The script finds shrewd ways of varying Sandra's speech, in which she explains the vote and what's going on, to illuminate how comfortable she is with each person. All of the actors playing Sandra's associates, save for one scenery-chewing crier, are quite good with the brief time they're afforded by the script. With Cotillard stripped of the usual movie star glamor, she and the rest of the cast blend together, even though the star is the only recognizable face.

The Dardennes' direction and writing is among their most confident, but a few head-scratching decisions in the film's middle make it harder to decide if Two Days is a great film or merely a very good one. The scene that represents Sandra's lowest point in the story is timed to coincide with an overly calculated arrival of a guest. As a result, when Sandra has to try and undo a horrible mistake, it's difficult not to laugh at the absurdity of the timing. The Dardennes have always been gifted with an ability to, in their minimalist and gritty way, maintain a film's tone. So when Sandra blurts out her mistake to her husband (Fabrizio Rigione), it's jarring enough to prompt a double-take (the audience I saw it with certainly had no problem letting out a laugh). If the scene is an attempt at pitch black comedy, it's a poorly placed one that undercuts the film's earnest drama.

Even so, Two Days, One Night is still one of the Dardennes most confident and most accessible films to date (and that's not just because of Cotillard's presence). By setting the film up with such desperation and urgency, the directors have created a story that covers several meaty angles (economic struggle, depression, etc...) with the momentum of a thriller. The film's ending is close to being pat when taken on its own, but the story's overall conclusion is mature and nuanced, forgoing the temptation to wrap things up with a Hollywood happy ending or a total downer. Both approaches would do a disservice to how well Two Days, One Night once again exemplifies the Dardennes' skill with capturing the lives of the working class, where any success or failure is just another moment in life, ready to be followed by countless others even after the screen goes dark.

Grade: B+/A- 

Review: "The Immigrant"

Director: James Gray
Runtime: 120 minutes

Well at least James Gray knows how to capture a time period. Even when the results are less than stellar - as in Blood Ties, which he wrote - the man does have a knack for bringing the recent past to life. Yet rather than stay in his comfort zone, Gray has chosen to branch out with his latest film, The Immigrant, which premiered at last year's Cannes film festival. Gray has leapfrogged over the time periods of his other films, and landed in the early part of the 20th century, a time when Ellis Island was filled to the brim with people from nations across the Atlantic. 

One of those people is Ewa Cybulska (Marion Cotillard), who has fled to America with her sister Magda (Angela Sarafyan) to escape their troubled homeland. Yet Ellis Island proves less welcoming than Lady Liberty's statue and her promises. Magda is quarantined, and Ewa's contacts in America are nowhere to be found. Ewa's American Dream is all but snuffed out at the finish line, when she's rescued by Bruno (Joaquin Phoenix), who promises her shelter, work, and money. It's the last item that Ewa latches onto, as it's Magda's only hope of survival while trapped in the hospital on the island. 

Ewa quickly learns, however, that Bruno's line of work may be a bit on the seedy side. The soft-spoken, off-kilter man runs a small theater, which of course is but a flashy display case for his cavalcade of prostitutes. Bruno does his best to convince Ewa that she's becoming part of a family, though she stoically tries her hardest to remain apart from the group. 

Despite a runtime of two hours, Gray lays the basic framework down quite briskly, even as he takes time to show larger images of 1920's Manhattan. Ewa and Bruno's relationship is an uneasy one, but it allows for interesting interplay between the film's two leads. Phoenix, though at times going a bit too broad and whispery as Bruno, does solid work as the more dynamic of the pair. His caring brand of possessiveness, balanced with Ewa's constant deflections, creates a unique set up. Even when a third party is introduced, The Immigrant never becomes a full-blown love triangle, or even a romance at all. 

It is, fundamentally, a story of how Cotillard's fresh-off-of-the-boat immigrant copes with being the lowest member on a food chain. More established immigrants (including Bruno) manage the newcomers, while also doing their best to please the authorities so as to stay out of trouble. Bruno may be Ewa's boss of sorts, but even he reports to an older woman at the theater. He also deals with Jewish slurs on a regular basis. He may be a pimp, but he's not a particularly powerful one. 

However, The Immigrant ultimately belongs to Cotillard, despite the overwhelmingly passive nature of the role. Ewa's goal is a simple one - to help (and possibly free) Magda - and Cotillard's blankness works to her advantage. This isn't a woman who can afford to joyously chase after her own dreams; she has to put her nose to the grindstone and get to work, whatever unpleasantness may ensue. 

The actress' work is mostly quiet, the polar opposite of her Oscar-winning performance as Edith Piaf, but Cotillard does a lovely job of managing Ewa's restraint. In the moments where she cracks, the actress refuses to go for big moments, even in a scene that is practically designed for Oscar-begging histrionics. Speaking both English and Polish, Cotillard is the heart of the film, and the limited manner in which she opens up is mirrored in the film's own emotional tone. When we speak of actors "owning" a film, it's usually about roles that require big flashes of emotion. With The Immigrant, Cotillard proves that it's possible to do this in near silence. 

Gray's direction - classical and elegant - understands this. Sadly, his writing has a much less solid foundation. Instead of merely allowing Ewa and Bruno's relationship to build into a natural display of unrequited affection and exploitation, Gray introduces a second rate magician named Orlando (Jeremy Renner). Renner is perfectly charming in the role, and makes you wish he had more screen time. Yet, enjoyable as he is, Orlando gets in the way of the main duo's relationship, instead of adding another layer to the drama. 

And as much as Gray keeps the story going (the pacing is stately, but certainly not sluggish), certain moments are rushed, and left feeling dramatically weightless. Gray's characters could use a bit more depth as well. There's a great divide in Ewa regarding her Catholic faith and her line of work, but Gray doesn't really dig into it aside from one notable scene (and there it's Cotillard, not the script, that makes it work). Though I'd consider The Immigrant a success, it is a strange, frustrating sort of success. The right pieces are there, but the script doesn't always do enough with them (that, or it deals with them too briefly). 

Production values, however, are very much a triumph. Despite a modest budget, Gray's vision of the 20s is as lush as Once Upon a Time in America or the flashbacks in The Godfather Part II. Sets and costumes are handsomely detailed, and Darius Khondji's sepia and gold-toned photography gives it all a nuanced, painterly quality. On a purely aesthetic level, The Immigrant is worthy of joining the ranks of the films it's so clearly paying homage to. Yet Gray's wishy-washy script trips the enterprise up one too many times. The Immigrant certainly never falls on its face, but it has enough unbalanced moments that cause the end result to be an overeager imitation, rather than a modern classic. 

Grade: B

Review: Blood Ties

Director: Guillaume Canet
Runtime: 128 minutes

There's no denying that the 70s were a golden era for gritty crime dramas. Sidney Lumet classics like Dog Day Afternoon and Serpico helped shape the new age of American cinema following the culture shock of Arthur Penn's Bonnie and Clyde (1967). However, those eras have passed, as eras tend to do. Most attempts to recapture that rough and gritty side of 70s cinema tend to get swallowed by the decade's long shadow. Guillaume Canet's Blood Ties, sadly, isn't strong enough to buck the trend. The French director's English-language debut looks the part, but it's undone by a flimsy, cliche-ridden script that has neither originality nor dramatic spark.  

Co-written by director James Gray, Blood Ties has more of his voice than of the Frenchman behind the camera. Though the film is a remake of a French drama, Gray's treatment has effortlessly American-ized it to fit the mold of the classics from the 70s. Similar to Gray's own We Own the Night, Blood Ties centers on brothers Chris (Clive Owen) and Frank (Billy Crudup) as they struggle to live on opposite sides of the law. For the recently released Chris, that means trying to reconnect with his wife Monica (Marion Cotillard) and the children he's barely seen. For Frank, it's a matter of keeping his brother from falling back into old habits, even as he begins a romance with Vanessa (Zoe Saldana), the girlfriend of the recently arrested Scarfo (Matthias Schoenaerts). 

Yet all the talent on screen can't compensate for the fundamental weaknesses of Canet and Gray's writing efforts. Chris and Frank are so lazily defined that there's little motivation to empathize with either. To their credit, Owen and Crudup at least handle the shallow material well enough to suggest where they could have gone with better material. But even with the focus primarily on their intertwined stories, Blood Ties never builds a genuinely compelling emotional or thematic arc. Yes, there are lots of talented people in the cast, but even at two hours, Blood Ties doesn't know how to manage them all properly. Saldana starts off playing a significant role, then practically vanishes until the last second. The reverse happens to Cotillard, who appears briefly in the first half, and then gets dragged into a rushed subplot designed to get the dramatic engine restarted so it can reach the finish line.

For all of the talent wasted, however, the biggest offense is how badly it underuses Schoenaerts. Despite his Belgian origin, the actor has the most convincing accent in the entire film. More importantly, Schoenaerts' handful of scenes have more heat to them than anything else than transpires on screen. Considering the strength of his breakout work in Bullhead, the actor clearly deserves a better English debut vehicle than this. On the other hand, Cotillard, Schoenaerts' Rust and Bone co-star, comes off rather badly in a performance that's all over the place. There are flickers of potential in her work, and there are some convincing moments of acting that rely solely on her facial expressions. Yet when she opens up her mouth, things head south disappointingly fast. The clunkiness of Monica's dialogue doesn't help, but the page doesn't deserve all of the blame in this instance.

With so many moving parts to handle, it doesn't take long for Blood Ties to unravel. Though nothing spectacular, the film's opening stretches mostly get it off to a solid start. As the cliches and messy narrative choices pile up, however, Canet and Gray can't sort their way out. The love triangle with Crudup, Saldana, and Schoenaerts should be the driving force of dramatic tension, but even when Scarfo gets released from prison, there's little to do but shrug and wait for the next tired development. It certainly doesn't help that Crudup and Saldana's affair begins with a handful of rushed scenes that border on laughable. 

In fact, nothing sums up the failings of Blood Ties better than one of the pair's first scenes of courtship. We see them sitting in a restaurant while music plays (no dialogue is heard). Suddenly, Saldana explodes, and leaves Crudup behind. Do we ever learn anything about what might have prompted the outburst? Of course not. The film assumes that the production values (admittedly solid) and music will be enough atmosphere to hold it all together. Instead, it almost looks like a scene from a dating montage in a bad romantic comedy (albeit an extra gritty one). 

What's particularly disappointing about all of this is how little energy Canet's directing has. With a few shoot outs and chases, you'd think the director of Tell No One would be able to conjure up something moderately engaging. Apparently not this time. Effort clearly went in to making Blood Ties look and sound the part. Beyond that, however, Canet and his collaborators go through the rest on autopilot. It's not quite a numbing experience, but it also never finds any moments where it feels like more than hackneyed, surface-level mimicry. 

Grade: C-

Review: "The Dark Knight Rises"

Director: Christopher Nolan
Runtime: 165 minutes

To say that expectations have been high for The Dark Knight Rises would be a monumental understatement. Christopher Nolan certainly got off on the right foot with the 2005 reboot Batman Begins, bringing a brooding and gritty vibe to Gotham's Caped Crusader. With Nolan at the helm, the story of Bruce Wayne took on a newfound sense of darkness and dread, devoid of the campy sensibility that so pervaded Tim Burton's two late 80s/early 90s films and the much-maligned Joel Schumacher films (Batsuit nipples; never forget). Here was a superhero movie that stood, more than any before it, as a testament to the post-9/11 mindset of America, and the world at large. 

Now, I'll admit, I've avoided using the term "post-9/11" to describe Nolan's bat-flicks until just now. Yes, the two (now three) films exist in a darker and more realistic world, but the thematic connection to 9/11 seemed not to click. But the mind has a way of working these things out when we least expect it. Nolan's films show realistically rendered depictions of attacks on American soil in so many ways that have otherwise been absent in comic book adaptations. 

Violence, even for superheroes, was now capable of achieving a rather chilling resonance, whether it was watching Ra's Al Ghul try to launch a biological attack on Gotham in Begins, or watching the Joker's attempts to instigate anarchy across the city, the threats felt more powerful because we lived in an age where A) these things were eerily possible and B) we knew there were people out there who wanted to hurt us. If Sam Raimi's first two Spiderman films (and to a lesser extent, the first two X-Men films) took comic book movies into late adolescence, Batman Begins took them into full-blown adulthood.

Yet it was 2008's The Dark Knight, with a large debt owed to a certain Mr. Ledger, that turned Nolan's series into a critical and financial mega hit. In addition to the gushing praise for Ledger's turn as the Joker, Nolan's film also became labeled as the best comic book movie of all time. And, among certain segments of the population, it has even been hailed as one of the best movies of all time. Period. As in, people were prepared to compare it to The Godfather (let's not go there).

The big question for Nolan and company, of course, then became "how do we finish this trilogy without letting people down?" And when it comes to answering that question on paper, The Dark Knight Rises seems firmly headed in the right direction. Instead of trying to repeat the success of The Dark Knight's iconic villain - a lone figure who essentially defined the film - Nolan has split villain duties (sort of) between Tom Hardy's hulking Bane and Anne Hathaway's slippery Selina Kyle (Catwoman, sans moniker). Lightning doesn't strike in the same place twice, and Nolan was smart to try and spread the role of antagonist among multiple characters.

Yet for all that seems okay on paper, there are equally as many missteps in the writing and in the execution on-screen. There are many individual aspects to pick apart, but it all fits under one giant umbrella: Nolan (and co-writer/brother Jonathan Nolan) have simply tried to cram in too much, despite the 2 hr 45 min duration. Batman Begins contained itself with ease, and The Dark Knight, despite sometimes bursting at the seams, managed to hold all of its pieces together, if just barely. Yet the pressure to create an epic and satisfying ending has, unfortunately, blasted a massive crater in the franchise's armor. The characters and subplots are many, yet even with nearly three hours, there's barely room for any of it to breathe. Combine these problems with the serious tone and massive expectations, The Dark Knight Rises often buckles under its own weight.

Nolan has never made a film that I've found dull, but here he's finally made one where I was actively distracted by the pacing issues. The scenes don't drag so much as they feel like Nolan has misplaced the emphasis. After a fun, Bond-style opening introducing Bane, the movie settles in for quite a bit of set up, which involves everything from a cop (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) trying to help a boys' shelter, to a Wayne Industries board member who won't stop inquiring about an abandoned clean energy project (Marion Cotillard), to Bruce Wayne's physical and emotional recovery after eight years away from his alter ego. Nolan has so many dots to connect that he often races things along. It gives one the feeling that the writer/director simply expects us to just go with each development without daring to question it. The film may never become stagnant (thanks again, Lee Smith), but so often it feels, well, off. As lovely as Ms. Cotillard is, the romance that develops between her and Bruce comes right the hell out of nowhere, only so that it can be used later for a BIG moment that ultimately rings hollow and completely wastes the actress.

All of this is compounded by two big issues: dialogue and narrative structure. Nolan's tendency to have his characters spell out themes and motivations has, sadly only become a bigger problem since Inception. Sometimes it feels entirely appropriate (variations of Begins' "Why do we fall? So we can pick ourselves up again" line), yet often it’s just unnecessary. The personalities of the characters struggle to shine through because they're burdened with such heavy dialogue and thin characterization (as such, the series' returning players achieve the strongest emotional resonance). As for the structure, Nolan falls into an odd cycle of repetition. I'll avoid the details, but the film essentially puts Bruce Wayne through an arc of physical and emotional recovery twice during the film, when all it does is eat up time. It's the second arc that really deserves the time, yet a period of nearly half a year ends up flashing by so the film can charge into its conclusion. Not only does the second arc have the potential for more resonance, but it's also more interesting in what it reveals about Bane, and how it brings the trilogy full circle.

And so when all hell breaks loose in the finale, Nolan is stuck making a bunch of revelations and cutting among a bunch of threads so that they can reach their conclusions. On their own, any one of them could have worked, but in trying to be so epic in scope, the film accomplishes the plots with most of them not coming off as meaning much. In the end, only Wayne and Batman's story, though it has its share of rushed moments and implausibility, resonates. Against all odds its ending provides a lump-in-the-throat moment amid an otherwise emotionally-distant film.

That's not to say that the film is a complete loss, by any means. There's quite a bit that's well done, once one looks past the flaws. The performers, at least those with something to work with (sorry Ms. Cotillard, Ben Mendelsohn, Matthew Modine...) are all perfectly engaging. Bale does nice work in his last run as Wayne/Batman, adding an extra amount of pain and exhaustion where the script fails him. Hardy's Bane is also enjoyable, and his oddly suave and cheeky tone make him a compelling presence, even though he lacks the Joker's overt psychotic tendencies. The film's biggest and best surprise, however, is Hathaway, who manages to make Selina teasingly sexy without making her ludicrously sexual. Watching her switch her personality on and off with an effortless snappiness is one of the film's strongest elements, even though Nolan saddles her with a strange subplot in which she's looking for a powerful computer program.

On the production front the film is also aces, with nice cinematography and art direction. The only puzzling exception is that, for the first time, Gotham actually looks like it's made up of multiple cities (scenes were shot in New York, Los Angeles, and Pittsburgh), instead of a cohesive metropolis. Hans Zimmer's kettle drum-heavy score, despite being repetitive, is used nicely to either enhance the tension and momentum, or add them when the film can't quite generate them on its own. And, as much as Nolan is to blame for the film's flaws, he also deserves credit for some of its successes. As a director, he remains capable of moving an audience through a dense narrative with surprising ease, despite the problems that pop up along the way. And, when it comes to pulling out show stopping moments that actually carry weight, his skills remain firmly intact. A massive attack at a football stadium is, besides massive in scale, truly stomach-churning, and the aforementioned finale is nicely handled despite the borderline ridiculous circumstances.

How it ends, I won't say, but at the very least Nolan ends with his best foot forward, more or less. The journey can be rough and overcrowded, but at the very least the ambition deserves some level of admiration, even when the execution sometimes falls short. Unfortunately, it's not just a case of expectations. The film is easily the weakest of Nolan's trilogy, despite some compelling stretches and decent acting. It may improve with time, once the disappointment has worn off and the flaws accepted, but it's a shame that such an adult-minded trilogy had to start tripping over itself as it crossed the finish line. As far as its craftsmanship and ambition, however, The Dark Knight Rises is still more successful than your average summer blockbuster. But in trying to cover so many bases instead of just cutting to the core narrative, this franchise's epic final chapter struggles to stay afloat. It doesn't sink, but only by a hair's breadth, thanks to its conviction and the goodwill built up from its two vastly superior predecessors.

Grade: B-

Cannes '12 Review: "Rust and Bone" [Competition]

As bracing, unromantic, and muscular as its male lead, Jacques Audiard's Rust and Bone, the follow up to his excellent mob drama/thriller A Prophet (2009), is a solid, well-acted film, one that impresses even as it fails to live up to its predecessor. Though it's doubtful it will make quite the international splash that Prophet did a few years ago, Audiard's drama should perform well, and could even land the director a second nomination for Foreign Language Film, despite the handful of flaws that keep it from true greatness. 

Based on a series of short stories (that are actually set in the United States), Rust chronicles the relationship between Ali (Matthias Schoenaerts, a break out from the Belgian drama Bullhead), a poor club bouncer, and Stephanie (Marion Cotillard), a whale trainer at water park in southern France. After a brief meet up at a club (Ali takes Stephanie home after she's injured in a fight), the pair are reunited after Stephanie has an accident at work that leaves her without both of her legs. From there, the two form a bond that helps Stephanie put her life back together.

Yet as much potential as there is for cliche in the set ups, Audiard and co-writer Thomas Bidegain present the cycle of physical and emotional recovery in such a stark manner that there's little room for the narrative to fall into maudlin histrionics. In this regard, the film mimics the attitude of Ali, a man who is certainly capable of love, but rarely good at expressing it. Whether with his five year old son or with Stephanie, Ali rarely lets his guard down, offering comfort in the smallest amount possible. This has something of a ripple effect across the film and its performances. Schoenaerts and Cotillard deliver strong turns, though it may take audiences a while to connect with them, seeing as much of the emotion is contained to body language and glances. 

Ultimately, it's not a bad thing at all, and allows the performances room to breathe and grow in your head once the credits start rolling. And for those afraid that the film will be too contained for its own good, don't worry. Both leads have moments to let their emotions explode onto the screen, and there's a not a false note to be found in any of it. Cotillard has the right mix of beauty and steely determination for Stephanie, making up for some of the vagueness of the character. Always a watchable screen presence, here she really gets to inject something more than star quality in the role, subtle and flash-free though it may be. Schoenaerts is equally impressive, and where Cotillard communicates beautifully with her eyes, he does so with his hulking body.

Where the tone and execution are less successful are in the overall plot. Though the structure is admirable for trying to make the arcs feel less conventional, at times the different threads feel too fractured. Ali's side job as a street boxer never quite materializes into anything profoundly emotional, despite the immense physicality involved, and at times you wish that Audiard would string more than two scenes in a subplot together to build on the emotion (it's contained enough as it is, why limit its potential further?). But while Ali's fighting and Stephanie's recovery (as well as their gradual relationship) all work despite the bumps in the road, a key story involving Ali and some shady dealings isn't emphasized enough. It appears vaguely two or three times, and then only returns for the sake of dramatic convenience. So even though it matters a great deal to a key supporting character, it's a moment where the film's lack of overt sentiment truly leaves the audience at arm's length, and not in a good way. What really makes this a shame is that it's this incident that sends the film to its conclusion, and the result is that one key scene near the end, while heart-stopping, also feels a tad contrived because of the fragmented narrative that preceded it. 

Even so, said ending is effective on its own terms in how it relates to the tone and themes present. On the technical side, the narrative is carried by sun-blasted, stark images, a limited color palette, and frill-free, hard edits. Audiard also makes smart use of slow motion to highlight the importance of whale training and street fighting to Stephanie and Ali, respectively. Alexandre Desplat (who scored three of the competition films) contributes a low-key, appropriate score, although it's ultimately unmemorable. 


It's worth noting that at the 2009 Cannes Festival, Audiard's A Prophet came in second place, losing the Palme D'Or to Michael Haneke's The White Ribbon. The decision that year must have been tough, as both films, though quite different, stand at roughly the same level. Barring a surprise, however, Audiard is a little further behind Haneke this go-round, which I'll get into further when I finish my Amour review.


Grade: B/B-

Review: "Contagion"

A disease pandemic means zombies. That's what the Hollywood of the past decade or so can't seem to get over. Not that there haven't been some good films to come out of the trend (28 Days Later...), but all in all, the disease-equals-zombies movie has been done enough to last us for a while. A movie strictly about disease, however? That's the sort of thing that hasn't been done in a while, so leave it to chameleonic director Steven Soderbergh (Traffic, Ocean's 11, Che) to give us a more grounded take on a viral menace.

Opening on Day 2 of the epidemic, Contagion follows a mysterious viral outbreak whose first victim is Beth Emhoff (Gwyneth Paltrow). As the virus begins to spread, the film travels across the globe, following everyone from health officials (Laurence Fishburne, Kate Winslet, Jennifer Ehle, Marion Cotillard), to the possibly infected (Matt Damon), and even a conspiracy theorist/blogger (Jude Law). Some try to find the virus' source, others try to contain its expansion, and some simply try to keep their lives from falling apart.

And, as rendered by Soderbergh and his team, the story is one that keeps its feet firmly on the ground. There are scenes of frustration and panic, even rioting, but Scott Z. Burns' script never gives in to hysteria or melodrama. Contagion isn't concerned with scenes of people becoming violently ill, or gross-out moments (save for maybe one). Instead, it keeps its focus on telling a grounded story about an increasingly aggressive disease. Soderbergh and Burns received cooperation from the CDC, and they've obviously taken the organization's advice seriously; the film feels uncomfortably plausible. Acting as his own cinematographer, Soderbergh captures the surfaces where the virus spreads (or makes contact) with a precision that is uncomfortable, and may very well have you rushing to douse your hands in Purell when the movie is over.

As the film progresses, though, it also starts to run out of steam. The first hour or so, when the disease is still an unknown (and still spreading rapidly) is stronger, but even it has its share of flaws. Though Stephen Mirrione deserves credit for his tight (but not hyper active) editing, he's left trying to cover too many bases. The story of the investigation of the disease, as well as Damon's arc, probably would have been enough to sustain the narrative. Unfortunately, there are two story threads that aren't quite up to snuff.

The first is Law's, which tracks a conspiracy blogger who simultaneously believes that the CDC is in bed with pharmaceutical companies, while trying to sell his own homeopathic treatment. Even though Elliot Gould has an amusing line about why blogging isn't real journalism, the film's use of Law's character feels too easy and too broad. The more I think about Law's scenes, the less I like them. With the clinical distance that Soderbergh is keeping from his subjects, this particular character is only more difficult to remain interested in as time goes on. But then there's Marion Cotillard's story line, which isn't so much useless as it is short-changed. With the strand already kept seemingly on the back burner, the film simply abandons Cotillard's character at two rather crucial points. There was probably an interesting angle to be mined from the arc, but little to nothing is made of it.

These two strands are part of Contagion's Achilles Heel. In trying to be an anti-disaster movie, and avoid sensationalism, Soderbergh and Burns have perhaps gone too far in the other direction. While I respect the film's attempts to ground itself in procedure and science, I can't help but feel that too much time is spent on characters spouting information, which robs them of the chance to, well, act. The script's fixation on the science of the story drains too much life from the characters for any of them to be worth connecting with, save maybe for Damon, Fishburne, and Winslet. Considering that the film is already jumping between and among characters, the problem only gets worse as it goes on, rendering the film's emotional angle void. So even though there is much to respect within Contagion, which ends on an interestingly simple (albeit unsettling) note, from its grounded story telling to its fine technical aspects (kudos to Cliff Martinez's sinister, pulsating score), the overt lack of emotion renders a potentially groundbreaking thriller little more than an antiseptic piece of low-key thriller entertainment.

Grade: B-

Venice Review Round-Up: "Contagion"

Hollywood loves a good disaster movie. And, thankfully for studios, they come in many variations. Earthquakes, tidal waves, burning skyscrapers, monsters, or simply the end of the world itself. And, when it comes to movies about diseases, Hollywood isn't usually known for being anymore realistic. Whether it's The Crazies or British imports like 28 Days Later (which is, to be fair, excellent), if it starts with a disease, it means one thing: zombies. So, leave it up to Steven Soderbergh (Traffic, Ocean's 11) to try something different with the sub-genre. For a while now, there's been buzz that Soderbergh's Contagion was unnervingly graphic and realistic in its treatment of a disease, and early word at Venice, in addition to praising the film, is only reinforcing those early notions.

The Telegraph - David Gritten (N/A): "...a cut above most Hollywood thrillers..." (most of the review was spent on vague plot details, so a big 'booooo' to Mr. Gritten.

The Hollywood Reporter - Todd McCarthy (N/A): "Director Steven Soderbergh and screenwriter Scott Z. Burns create unease and simmering tension without going over the top into souped-up suspense or gross-out moments..."

The Guardian - Jason Solomons (3/5 stars): "I was shuffling nervously in my seat, edging away from the sniffling man next to me." "...well assembled and propulsive, though like the virus, it loses momentum."

IndieWire - Oliver Lyttelton (A-): "Soderbergh creates a kind of tapestry of illness and panic, and the structure works like a charm..."

Variety - Peter DeBruge (N/A): "Still, without fully rounded characters, it's hard to care who lives or dies..."

Time Out London - Dave Calhoun (3/5 stars): "It's a sober and engrossing dramatic thriller..."

Venice Verdict: Though it may not be entirely personable, Contagion is a major success for Steven Soderberg, and an unusually realistic and unsettling ensemble thriller.

Teaser Trailer: "The Dark Knight Rises" [Fixed/New link]

**Click HERE to find a different version of the teaser (the player can be odd when embedded, so it's easier to simply link to it). The TrailerAddict embed doesn't always want to work for some reason...

Topping The Dark Knight isn't going to be an easy feat, but that hasn't stopped Christopher Nolan from aiming big. Even with the minimal footage (I'm surprised there's any; the first teaser for The Dark Knight was merely a logo with voice over), this teaser gives off a feeling of something big. Nolan has said that The Dark Knight Rises will bring his Batman trilogy full circle, though he hasn't clarified whether that's in a narrative or thematic sense (both?). Either way, this trailer, which contains a brief glimpse of Tom Hardy as Bane, is certainly exciting. That said, however, I get the feeling that, based on the shots of Gary Oldman in the hospital bed, we're headed for even darker territory than The Dark Knight, which is no small feat, especially in a big budget blockbuster.

Trailer: "Contagion"

Virus movies, though certainly nothing new, are usually connected to another genre: zombie films. But what if a movie decided to take a grittier, realistic approach, where the virus itself, and not the threat of mutations or zombies, was the real villain? That would give you Contagion courtesy of Traffic and Ocean's 11 director Steven Soderbergh. Despite the long wait for a trailer, not to mention the recent bump to an earlier release date (Sept. 9), I'm still excited for this film. Soderbergh has made some great films, and his ensemble here is all-around fantastic. But what's really intriguing here is a simple editing choice, one that lets us know that Gwyneth Paltrow's character dies. Honestly, when was the last time a trailer for a big budget studio film killed off one of the biggest names in the cast? It's the sort of decision that sends a very clear, and very unsettling message: no one is safe. That test screening audiences are reportedly calling the film "nausea-inducing" in its graphic (and supposedly realistic) depictions of a deadly virus only makes me more excited to see what Soderbergh and writer Scott Z. Burns have in store for us.

Review: "Midnight in Paris"

When one has made as many films as Woody Allen has (40), it's easy to feel that the work is becoming repetitive. As one of the most prolific auteurs ever, Allen has had his shares of triumphs and failures. And yet he's always pressed ahead, never taking too long between films. Starting in the mid-2000s, Allen hit something of a turnaround, leaving his beloved New York to write love letters to the great metropolises of Europe. It hasn't been without setbacks (You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger), but Europe seems to suit Allen well, as evidenced by works like Vicky Cristina Barcelona, and now, Midnight in Paris.

First, a moment of honesty. When I first saw the trailer, I actually feared for the worst. All I got was that a man takes walks around Paris at midnight and "finds himself," and that everything else seemed rather, well, stupid. When Allen is on fire, he's fantastic, but when he's not, he can be horribly tedious, and I feared for the worst with this film. But the secret to Midnight in Paris that makes it work turns about to be those midnight sequences, which the trailer couldn't have done more to misrepresent.

After a picturesque opening montage of the city of light (one that could have used some trimming), we're introduced to American writer Gil (Owen Wilson) and his fiancé Inez (Rachel McAdams). Gil is, to put it lightly, in love with Paris. Inez? Not so much. He's a romantic who loves the idea of Paris in the 1920s, she's convinced that he's suffering from what the pedantic Paul (Michael Sheen) calls "Golden Age syndrome." One night, trying to get a break from Paul's pseudo-intellectualism and Inez's condescending right-wing parents, Gil gets lost wandering around the city, and finds himself (literally) transported to the Paris of his dreams.

And it's here, in those midnight sequences that the trailer(s) refused to spoil, that the magic kicks in. Gil begins fraternizing with everyone from the Fitzgeralds (Tom Hiddleston and Alison Pill) to Salvador Dali (Adrien Brody), and even receives writing advice from Gertrude Stein (Kathy Bates). These encounters, whether one-hit wonders or repeated, are charming, surprising, and at times hilarious. While there he also encounters the (fictional) Adriana (Marion Cotillard), part-time lover of Picasso and Hemingway. What initially starts as a charming relationship soon evolves into a microcosm of the film's central idea: that people always long for an idealized version of the past. For Gil, a man of the 2000s, it's the 1920s, but for Adriana, it's the Paris of the Belle Epoch. So even though Midnight in Paris is a love letter to Paris, it has the smarts to not go overboard in its idealizing of the past, reminding us that we can still enjoy the works of the past in the present.

However, like the Paris of Gil's fantasies, Allen's latest does have its share of problems, even if they often get buried under film's infectious charm. As fun and surprising as the historical cameos are, there are times when Allen's film falls prey to name-dropping for the sake of name-dropping, with plenty of luminary figures not even getting more than a few seconds of screen time. Meanwhile, in the present, Michael Sheen's Paul, though used to great effect, vanishes after a certain point, often-mentioned but suddenly never heard from again. Allen also throws in a rather pointless scene involving missing jewelry, one that comes dangerously close to evoking his writing at its worst: drawn-out, tedious, and not even remotely amusing. And as a work of story-telling, Midnight actually feels like a half step down from Vicky Cristina Barcelona, despite lacking that film's irritating omniscient narrator.

Thankfully, Allen has assembled an ensemble that makes even the film's weakest moments go down smoothly. The bigger cameos, like Hiddleston and Pill, or Corey Stoll as Ernest Hemingway, are true delights. Brody's Dali, however, is perhaps the best, in a one-scene role wherein he proposes to Gil that he paint him like rhino with a melting mouth. As the film's lone fictional blast from the past, Marion Cotillard brings a lovely presence to Adriana, even if the role feels almost too basic. Her chemistry with Wilson really works, and it's almost a shame that Allen wraps up their arc so quickly, instead of really exploring their gradually diverging views on the past. Back in the present, Rachel McAdams is saddled with a rather one-note role, which she handles adequately. More entertaining are her parents (Kurt Fuller and In the Loop's Mimi Kennedy), wealthy Tea Party-supporters who begin to grow suspicious of Gil's recurring midnight strolls. The show, however, belongs to Wilson. A California-ized version of the Woody Allen persona, Wilson's odd charm meshes perfectly with Gil's (and thereby Allen's) sensibilities, showing us that New York isn't the only city home to sensitive neurotic writers.

Midnight in Paris may not rank among Allen's finest, and it may have its share of flaws, but there's certainly a lot to love. The cast is game, the script is light and funny, and at a clean 90 minutes, it's the sort of small fantasy that you wish would go on for another 20 or 30 minutes. Allen's conclusion, that we can still enjoy the past in our own present, isn't executed with much depth or emotional resonance, yet it still works as a frothy love letter to one of the world's great cities thanks to its wit and irresistible charm. For a director now 40 films in, Midnight in Paris is proof that age has yet to rob Allen of his capacity to create thoroughly delightful cinema, regardless of whether or not you find it somewhat minor.

Grade: B

What I watched this week: Nov 13-21

Another slow week; next week will hopefully be better with time off for Thanksgiving. Still, November is light years ahead in terms of movie viewing compared to where I was two months ago.

Jeux d'enfants (Love Me if You Dare) (2003) dir. Yann Samuell:

I have no problem with films with a wicked sense of humor, but there has to be balance. There's a thin line between darkly funny and obnoxious and irritating, and this is a film that struggles to keep itself from straying into obnoxious territory. Julien and Sophie (real-life couple Guillaume Canet and Marion Cotillard) have been friends since they were children. And ever since they've been friends, their friendship has revolved around constantly playing pranks and constantly one-upping each other. Surprisingly, when the two stars finally take on the roles (roughly 20-30 minutes in), the pranks actually become more tolerable and seem to find the weird niche vibe that writer/director Yann Samuell was going for. Unfortunately, opening shot aside, the film gets off to a horrendous start. As children, the kids are almost insufferable, especially Julien. On numerous occasions I wanted to reach through the screen and slap them both. As it is, it makes the remainder of the film somewhat awkward to adjust to. Granted, it's good to see that the characters don't just continue their games without care (Sophie in particular grows tired of them), but even so, the damage has already been done. Samuell also has a tendency to thrown in kooky animated sequences that look like bits left on the cutting room floor from Amelie (and we'll get to Jean-Pierre Jeunet in a minute). That's not to say that there aren't things to like. A scene when Julien and Sophie see each other in a bar (after a significant time apart) is particularly effective, and in its own strange way the ending works perfectly on a thematic level. Canet and Cotillard are also very strong as well, better than the film around them by a considerable margin. It's nice to see Cotillard in a girlfriend in a role that doesn't relegate her to supporting/weak status (see: Public Enemies, Inception). Not exactly a bad film, but in a ways a bit too unpleasant for its own good, and difficult to strongly recommend.

Grade: B-

A Very Long Engagement (2004) dir. Jean Pierre Jeunet:

Three years before this film, Jeunet made another film called Amelie, and though this film shares that film's leading lady, the two couldn't be any more different. Amelie was a charming and quirky Gallic romance, whereas this film is a mostly somber affair about lost love amid the horror and aftermath of World War I. Mathilde (Audrey Tatou) and Manech (Gaspard Ulliel) were lovers shortly before the start of the war. Unfortunately, Manech has yet to return, and the war has long since been over. Desperate to find him, Mathilde sets out on a quest to find out where he is, starting by investigating a group of soldiers who Manech was last seen with. The journey leads her through any number of complications, the most formidable of all being Tina Lombardi (Marion Cotillard), the lover/whore of one of the men who has gone about killing the men responsible for the man's untimely death. For the most part, Jeunet leaves his slightly overbearing quirks behind, but unfortunately, perhaps in an attempt to lighten the mood, they still creep through. There are no weird animated sequences or hyper active montages, but there are smaller things, like Mathilde's aunt's obsession with her dog's flatulence, which seems like the sort of characterization that doesn't belong here (or anywhere, for that matter). Still, even with Jeunet's quirks, he does manage to make a solid transition into such heavy material, though at times the results border on plodding. All around, the performances are very strong, especially Tatou. Cotillard has moments too, though for the first half of the film her character is used more as an emblem; she's given two spectacularly designed (albeit simple) kill sequences and that's pretty much it until her big scene with Tatou. And though Jeunet doesn't shy away from the horror of war, there's a scene near the end that is equal parts horrifying and horribly contrived. Still, the visuals, art direction, costume design, and acting mostly make up for it. At the same time, one can't help but feel that the film would have benefitted from someone more committed to the overriding grimness of the story.

Grade: B

Toronto Review Round Up: "Little White Lies" [incomplete]

One of the biggest film festivals in the world, and one of the most important in regards to Oscar predictions/indicators, has been underway for a few days now, and along with previously premiered films like Black Swan, The King's Speech, and 127 Hours are previously unreviewed films like Rabbit Hole (I'm reaaaaaally hoping for good reception on this one) and the subject of this post, Little White Lies.

"Lies," which has been on my radar for a while now mostly because it stars Marion Cotillard and is directed by her boyfried (fiance?) Guillaume Canet, even though there hasn't been too much available out it yet. That should change very quickly, and the first reviews from the TIFF screening are finally making their way online. Michael Rechtshaffen of The Hollywood Reporter is generally positive in his assessment of the ensemble dramedy, though he says the film is hampered and "loses much of its effervescence as it goes on - and on." Rechtshaffen praises the performances, especially those of Cotillard and co-star Fracois Cluzet, both of whose work is described as "bright and energetic."

Variety's Jordan Mintzer's review is similar. He says parts of the movie fire on all cyllinders, and the performances are strong, but that it's simply too long for its own good. Mintzer calls the film "disjointed [and] occasionally effective" and says that Cluzet is "too over-the-top here." Mark Olsen over at the LA Times is more positive on all fronts though. He only mentions the film's length once, writing that Canet "somehow pulls it all together." And Olsen is particularly kind to Cotillard, writing that she, "gives a performance of acute emotional ability. There is a mischievous playfulness to her performance here, with a deep undercurrent of sadness, which makes for a most remarkable turn." He goes on to suggest that, were the performance in English, Cotillard would be a likely Best Actress hopeful, even in this increasingly overcrowded year that is threatening to push some films (please don't let one of them be this or Rabbit Hole) to 2011 to join Tree of Life.

Additional Reviews: [awaiting]

Toronto Verdict: [awaiting]

"Inception" - REVIEW

It's almost hard to discuss Inception, along with the positive and negative responses to it, without looking at the traits and changes of its director, Christopher Nolan. His personal project, which would probably never have made it to the screen were it not for the success of his first two Batman reboots, is something of an intriguing oddity. Like James Cameron's Avatar, Nolan had an early draft of the script in his drawer for years, but only recently found that he had the capabilities to make it. In some sense, Inception is something like Mr. Nolan's attempt at delving into the head-spinning story-telling and structure of his indie breakout Memento, with the big-budget trappings and gloss of The Dark Knight. With expectations sky high after that second Batman film, and with enough time having passed for its detractors to step into the sunlight without fear of being ripped to shreds, Inception arrives more open to negative (or at least non-ecstatic) reception, and in some ways, this is a good thing. For while Nolan has made a movie that engages viscerally and intellectually, it can't always engage the heart as fully as it should. Not that it isn't strong film making - keep reading and you'll see that I liked or loved lots of it - but it feels like a cautionary film, one that suggests that perhaps Mr. Nolan should (after Batman 3, which I'm still super excited for) return to the smaller, more organic roots of the film that made him a name.

Inception is that sort of film that needs to be talked about as vaguely as possible in regards to plot. What I'll say isn't much different from what you can glean from the trailers: Cobb (DiCaprio), part of a team who can hack into dreams to steal or plant ideas, needs to get one last, daunting job done in order to "get home," (what that means, you'll have to discover). The rest of his team includes Arthur (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), Eames (Tom Hardy), and Ariadne (Ellen Page). Also along for the ride are Ken Watanabe as Cobb's client, Marion Cotillard as Cobb's wife, and Cillian Murphy as the group's target. Yet for such a wonderful ensemble (Mr. Hardy being the most fun), this is not an actor's film by any means. The ensemble isn't one-note, but most of them are far from being fully fleshed-out. Yet even so, with the exception of Ken Watanabe being somewhat difficult to understand, I have no complaints about anyone.

Like any Nolan movie, the women are bound to come up as a subject of debate (as one critic wrote, they tend to be "effective window-dressing" in his films), but as for me, I found both ladies were used to lovely effect. Cotillard is predictably beautiful, but also intriguing though hers is the hardest performance to discuss considering its spoiler-ish nature. For now, let's just say that it's leagues ahead of her work in her last mainstream summer outing, Public Enemies, in that she's interesting and engaging during the whole movie, and not just in the last 20 minutes. Page however, I can talk more freely about, and gladly so. She certainly creates a sharp divide among movie-goers, but after this film, I'll plant myself firmly in the "like" camp. Ariadne is, as predicted, used as the audience insert (ie: the one who can ask "why?" so that the others can explain the dream world to the audience in some manner other than a Star Wars-esque prologue scroll). But thankfully Nolan gives Page more to do than ask "why?" (or at least doesn't keep those questions strictly to the job at hand), and her one-on-one scenes with DiCaprio are some of the best character-oriented ones. Page is likable, smart, and believable as a depiction of how a "normal" person would react after being thrust into such a daunting world.

The men are an interesting story as well. DiCaprio, headlining his second head-twister this year after Shutter Island, makes an effective leading man, but I can't help but wish that Nolan had gone with someone who could more easily call for sympathy and give off shades (heh) of warmth, considering Nolan's slightly distant way of handling his characters in his writing. Still, he does the role well, and he certainly fares better than Joseph Gordon-Levitt, who aside from getting the film's show-stopping hallway-fight-turned-zero-G sequence, doesn't bring quite enough spark to his role, though his chemistry and bickering with Hardy suggests a relationship that I'd like to have a deeper look at. Mr. Hardy, however, exudes more charisma as the shapeshifting forger, delivering some nice little quips with ease and bringing in some of the needed humor. But for me, the real MVP of the men, and maaaaybe the movie, is Cillian Murphy, who has a much larger role than anticipated. Let's just say that the payoff of his story arc is the closest to a fully-realized emotional payoff that Inception has, perhaps more so than Cobb's own interests. Perhaps the problem can be traced back to something I noticed in The Dark Knight. With Nolan's (alleged) coldness in his films, emotional payoff is generated more out of a visceral response to pure intensity, than to a deep attachment to the characters. But what made those visceral moments practically enough of a substitute for heartfelt emotion was probably built on the fact that there were fewer (front and center) characters to keep track of. With Inception, we're dealing with a crew five shy of an Ocean's 11 sized set of protagonists, and the emotion elicited (and thereby the intensity of the film) is hampered as a result, which makes me glad that Nolan stopped expanding his ensemble where he did.

But now that we've taken a look at the actors of what is not an actor's film, it's time to look at, well, everything else. In The Dark Knight, people accused Nolan of overwriting scenes with expository dialogue. For whatever the reason, this is one of those complaints that I can respect and understand, yet despite repeated viewings of that film, it never really makes an impact, and remains a non-issue. For most of Inception this is also likely the case, BUT I'm curious to see how the portion of the film that deals most with explaining the rules holds up on a second viewing. Will it become slightly tedious hearing it all again, or will it hold up because of one of the true stars of the film (that being Lee Smith's editing)? It's hard to say, though Nolan and crew do keep the pace nice and sustained, especially considering the run time and increasing layering of the dreams unfolding on screen. A pair of other standouts dominate the film. First is Wally Pfister's cool, rich cinematography (which is a knockout on an IMAX screen). And even though some of the film's shootouts and chases feel slightly routine in their setups and choreography (Nolan should probably focus more on "adventure" than "action," even though that vehicular chase/battle from TDK is still incredible), they're bolstered by the occasional gorgeous use of slow-motion, and the last part of the arts/tech triumvirate, Hans Zimmer's score, a mix of the intricate and the blaring. If at time a bit too loud as it pours out of the speakers, it's still engaging as all get out, and matches the beats of the movie perfectly. Like I am Love, the blaring score is part of what helps the film shake you and make an impact, although in Nolan's film, that feeling of being shaken also comes with an actual sense of satisfaction when the credits start. Fourth place goes to the special effects, the most prominent in any Nolan film. I've saved them for last because it almost feels needless to talk about them. In a word, they're seamless, and never was I thinking that I was looking at pixels. That said, as far as how Nolan uses the effects, I sometimes wish he had gone a little more mad with his vision. Dreams aren't usually as orderly as Nolan presents them, and the dreams could have used more moments (albeit small ones) where the characters improvise creations, such as when Ariadne makes a bridge rise up in front of her as she navigates through her first dream.

So while Inception doesn't quite inspire the rapturous response the expectation and pre-hype had created like it did for The Dark Knight, this is still thoroughly engaging slam-bang entertainment, even if it is a bit cold to the touch. Nolan's direction is strong, even if some of his writing needs work to serve an ensemble who prove themselves more than up to the task of filling up their roles further were they given the material. It's also a technical marvel as previously mentioned, and can perhaps best be compared to its visual effects: engaging, intense, detailed, slick, a bit too distant, yet somehow wholly believable (ie: the anti-A-Team) because of the effort put in. Even with its flaws, Nolan's blockbuster, likely to remain the best of mainstream cinema of the summer along with Toy Story 3, does manage to accomplish what its tag line promised: The dream is real.

Grade: B+