Review: "Certain Women"

Director: Kelly Reichardt
Runtime: 107 minutes

A truck runs off of the road. Someone has an affair. A routine legal case escalates into a hostage situation. Characters from disparate stories cross paths. All of these occur in Kelly Reichardt's Certain Women, yet they're hardly what lingers after an unhurried hour and 45 minutes. Instead, Reichardt, one of American indie cinema's most reliable poets, draws attention to the breaths that take place in between words and actions. The small gestures take center stage, and what Reichardt pieces together, despite starting slow, builds to a series of gently moving conclusions. 

Arriving two years after the more accessible eco-terrorist thriller Night Moves, Reichardt is back in more familiar territory with her latest. Adapted from the short stories of author Maile Meloy, Certain Women elegantly weaves together the lives of three different women, and those around them, as they do their best to stake their claim in the world.

Despite the vast emptiness of Montana setting, there are any number of obstacles, most of them in some way intangible. For Laura Wells (Laura Dern), it means dealing with men who either won't listen to her, or who only enter her life when they need to use her. Laura's client (Mad Men's Jared Harris) refuses to take her legal advice until he hears it from a male colleague, while the man in her life (James LeGros) only needs her as an escape from the tensions in his marriage. Elsewhere in the Treasure State, Gina (Michelle Williams) scouts for raw materials for a home she hopes to build. And lastly, Native American rancher Jamie (Lily Gladstone) strikes up a friendship (and possibly more) with a night school teacher (Kristen Stewart).

So much of what happens in Certain Women is mundane, but Reichardt manages to stealthily craft a delicate, sensitive tribute to the ordinariness of her character's lives. Aided by beautiful, rough-hewn visuals, the writer, director, and editor paints an understatedly rugged portrait that hits home in surprising ways. Rather than force an "everyone is connected" overarching narrative, Reichardt is content to merely have her various characters brush shoulders at most. Each little reaction and movement counts, even if it seems inconsequential at first.

Even at their most accessible, Reichardt's stories never move with urgency, and she doubles down on the approach here. But patience is rewarded once the Gladstone/Stewart part of the triptych guides the film into its second half and mini-finales. Carol director Todd Haynes is credited as a producer on the film, and that shines through most evidently in the third story. The inciting incident is almost random, but from the moment Stewart wanders into Gladstone's line of sight, an inexplicable sliver of tension slips in. A few conversations later, juxtaposed with Jamie's repetitive duties on the ranch, and the intensity of unrequited affection blossoms into something astoundingly realized. 

The third segment could easily have been its own full feature, yet it never feels shortchanged by being forced to share time with two other stories. Yet by placing the most complete section at the end, Reichardt is able to construct a master arc encompassing three small stories that each have their own starts and finishes. The least developed of the three is Williams' story, which feels more connective and symbolic, but nonetheless is still a worthy addition. Parts 1 and 3 focus on women dealing with situations and emotions they can't completely control, while Williams' Gina is her own boss (and likely the breadwinner of her household). These women are all distinct, yet they're all cut from the same multi-textured cloth.

So much of what drives Certain Women rests on Reichardt and her behind the scenes team, but the women in front of the camera are equally vital. Even though we know precious little about these people, Dern, Williams, Gladstone, and Stewart are all constantly adding shades of depth without interfering with the reserved tone of the film around them. There are deep wells of desire, frustration, and exhaustion coursing through these women, all in ways that feel authentic and lived-in. Even when Reichardt flat out states a Talking Point in dialogue, she does so with elegance and brevity ("...if I were a man, people would listen and say, 'ok.'"). The men aren't too shabby either. LeGros brings gentleness to what could have been a detestable character, and Rene Auberjonois is quietly heartbreaking as an old man sought out by Gina. And, in his final scene, Harris brings unfathomable nuance to his part through only a handful of perfectly chosen words. 

And while Dern, Williams, and Stewart all have the most name value, but it's Gladstone who ends up shining brightest among the women. Her low key kindness seamlessly transitions into deeply felt moments of longing without missing beat. It's star-making turn, only without all of the flashy theatrics that usually come with such a "moment" for a performer. Like the film around her, Gladstone's performance is founded on introspection and empathy. While it may not jump off of the page as traditionally exciting or entertaining, those traits are what make Gladstone's work, and Certain Women as a whole, such a tender triumph. And all without a single car crash or shootout in sight.


Grade: A-

Review: "Oz: The Great and Powerful"

Director: Sam Raimi
Runtime: 130 minutes

It's been nearly three quarters of a century since Dorothy landed in Oz. For decades, the classic MGM fantasy-musical has been a cornerstone of growing up. It boasts some of the most memorable characters in all of cinema and pop-culture history. And though it's been years since the 1939 film's visual effects have been thought of as state of the art, they possess a timeless charm, as evidenced by the film's enduring status. Bigger and newer aren't always better, and that's certainly the case with Sam Raimi's Oz: The Great and Powerful. Though beautifully rendered, the latest cinematic venture into Oz is lacking in heart, brains, or courage, and has only fleeting moments of genuine entertainment. 

Opening in 1905 in both black and white and the old 4:3 aspect ratio, Raimi's film introduces us to Oscar (James Franco), a wily magician at a traveling circus in (where else?) Kansas. In addition to conning folks out of their money, Oscar also has a penchant for charming women out of their clothes, and it doesn't take long for that to catch up with him. While running from a jealous husband, Oscar boards a hot air balloon, which soon gets sucks up into a tornado. And, as it was in the 1939, so it is in 2013: violent storms are the means of entering the wonderful world of Oz and its widescreen aspect ratio. Yet Oscar doesn't have much time to soak up the CGI masses around him. He quickly runs into Theodora the good witch (Mila Kunis), who believes that Oscar is here to fulfill a prophecy and save Oz. 

Yet for all of the money thrown at the screen, Raimi's Oz is disappointingly lacking. The environments themselves are beautiful, but any time the film shows live action actors walking among them, they begin to feel more flat and artificial than the matte paintings of yesteryear. Thankfully, there are marvels amid the digital excess. The flying monkeys look fantastic, and are effectively menacing (at least as menacing as they can be in a PG film). But the real star is China Doll (voiced by Joey King), a beautiful digital creation who comes closest to giving the film a beating heart. 

Sadly, China Doll's live action counterparts don't fare so well. Particularly egregious is James Franco's Oscar. Part of the fun of this role, on paper, is that Oscar is a con artist who spends considerable time bluffing his way through a foreign land. It requires a certain charm and swagger that Franco never once brings to the screen. Instead, he's left straining to reach those show-off moments, and the result is a black hole of charisma. Then there's Mila Kunis, who's faced with the opposite problem: she seems engaged with the material, but has only thin writing and poor motivation to work with. Rachel Weisz has what fun she can with a boring role that's largely shoved to the background and never fleshed out. The only flesh and blood figure on screen who remotely works in Michelle Williams' Glinda. It may not be much, but the actress brings a charm and warmth to the character that helps offset Franco's problematic performance.

But, at the end of the day, the story is Oscar's, and because Franco's performance is such a misfire, the rest of the enterprise sinks with him. Raimi manages a few good jumps here and there, and the visuals are quite nice (I desperately wanted more looks at the vaguely art deco-style Emerald City), but it's all too much. Oz isn't engaging, moving, or funny enough (though Zach Braff does his best) to ever become consistently entertaining. Instead, much like Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland, it often sinks under the weight of its super-saturated CGI vistas that are large in scale, but lack any sense of awe or wonder. A shame really, when the matte paintings would have probably been so much cheaper.

Grade: C-

Review: "Take This Waltz"

In one critical early scene of Take This Waltz, Sarah Polley's follow-up to her acclaimed debut Away From Her, Margot (Michelle Williams) tells Daniel (Luke Kirby) that she hates being in between things. The statement proves to be true, and it echoes out across the film in multiple ways. Waltz is decidedly lighter than Away From Her, though it still boasts Polley's keen powers of observation when it comes to details that exist between couples or among family members. Yet where Away From Her had a general sense of forward momentum that built to a point surrounding its central characters, Polley gets a little lost in the details of Take This Waltz. As a result, her sophomore effort, despite containing any number of admirable aspects, feels redundant and overly long, its point(s) lost among the details.


Williams's Margot is a freelance writer living in Toronto, who's married to a cookbook author (Seth Rogen). The couple have any number of little tics, including their own forms of teasing and baby talk, as well as an inside joke where they describe fanciful ways to torture each other. While returning from a short trip/assignment, Margot meets Kirby's Daniel, and the two hit it off in a weird sort of way (she doesn't seem to mind his semi-aggressive taunts). As it turns out, Daniel is a neighbor of Margot's, living just across the street, and working as a rickshaw operator around town. As the two interact more and more, Margot examines her marriage and contemplates the possibility of doing more with Daniel than just chit-chatting. And of course, there's a bit of a moral. That's where things start to head south.


The central problem with Take This Waltz is that we get an understanding of the film's main question and message so early, yet the film remains stuck in a drawn-out period of inaction. For about 3/4ths of its 2 hour duration, the film is basically on a loop of scenes illustrating Margot's relationship with her husband and her slowly (sloooooooooooowly) budding relationship with Daniel. Rather than make the point and move on, Polley insists on making sure that the audience has five or six opportunities to "get it," throwing in stolen glances and casually pained expressions that ought to register much more than they really do. At one point Dan casts a glance of heartfelt longing at Margot, and I was tempted to let out a laugh to relieve myself of the crushing obviousness of the scene's attempt at greater importance.


And once the film gets to its big moment, set to the titular Leonard Cohen song, there's little that's surprising about the outcome. We've known the moral of the story for so long that by the time it arrives (however impressive the execution) it's difficult not to be left thinking, "well, duh." Worse, the film decides to chug on for almost another half hour before drawing to a close. Thankfully, it gives Margot a clear arc, but the journey to the end of said arc is too damn long for its own good. Barring a dramatically convenient subplot involving Margot's pseudo ex-alcoholic sister (Sarah Silverman), everything progresses exactly as we expect it to, without the necessary dramatic tautness to make it feel like a worthwhile journey.


That's not to say that Take This Waltz is without its merits. Williams is wonderful in the role, taking Margot's conflicted feelings (along with the above-mentioned fear of the in between) and fleshing them out with a radiant subtlety. In different hands, the character could have felt frustratingly inert. While that remains true of many scenes, it's most certainly not true about Williams' work, which is always striving to make Margot's developing dilemma feel like it's progressing (no matter how minimal the progress). The rest are in fine form as well. Rogen and Kirby both make effective opposites, with Rogen personifying a warm (albeit purposefully stagnant) sense of comfort, while Kirby has just the right touch of excitement about him without being over the top. Some of the material Kirby has can feel tone deaf, but even then the actor remains quite watchable. The surprise, despite her limited time, is Silverman, who invests a surprising amount of nuance into her role. This isn't a case of silly stunt casting where a comedian is stuck playing herself. Silverman brings a nice bit of gravitas to an underdeveloped character, one whose struggles probably deserve their own film (in case Ms. Polley ever decides to make a sequel or spin-off...). Even when the material falters, and it does falter quite a bit, these four significant roles hit just about all of the right notes, and at times it's enough to overcome the glaring weaknesses.


Credit should also go to the technical side of the film. Forgoing the idea that small films need to have a bland, washed out look, Take This Waltz positively pops with a summery glow, bolstered by the cinematography's emphasis of colors like red and green. The soundtrack is also a nice touch, if a bit cliched, all quiet guitar twangs and the like. When these elements gel with what works, Take This Waltz proves quite compelling. Unfortunately, the film is a bit of reverse Impressionism. The individual pieces work up close, but once you step back to look at the work as a whole, nothing ever comes together quite like it should.


Grade: C+/C

Review: "My Week with Marilyn"

When the first images of Michelle Williams as Marilyn Monroe surfaced, eyebrows were inevitably raised. Despite her considerable talents, Williams has been known for dour roles that require none of the bubbly magnetism that Monroe was so famous for. Therefore, it's arguable that whether or not My Week with Marilyn is mild success or a small failure, because it's certainly not going to be remembered for much in a few years time.

Taken from two (reportedly) factual accounts, Simon Curtis' film revolves around Colin Clark (Eddie Redmayne), a recent college grad who longs to work in the film business. He manages to find a job on The Sleeping Prince (which would eventually become The Prince and the Showgirl), starring Sir Laurence Olivier (Kenneth Branagh) and the titular Monroe. As Olivier and Monroe's acting styles clash on set, Colin starts to develop a bond with Monroe.

It's certainly a story rife with potential for quite a bit of nostalgic fun. And, thankfully, we've been spared the Greatest Hits type of treatment that sank Clint Eastwood's J. Edgar. Unfortunately, since the story ultimately centers on Colin, Marilyn sometimes feels kept at a distance. It's probably the biggest obstacle the movie has to overcome, and it's what keeps the whole thing from being anything more than a light dramedy. Instead of delving deep into Monroe's difficulty with handling Olivier's drastically different style, and her intense self-consciousness and need for approval, we only get the vaguest hints. The deepest sentiments the film can offer are when Marilyn tells Colin (her face wet with tears), "People don't see me; all they see is Marilyn Monroe." Depth isn't exactly the name of the game here.

But even if the script is too lightweight to make the most out of its subject matter, at the very least Williams deserves credit for not coming off like a bad Saturday Night Live impersonation. She's doing the best she can with the material she's given, though unfortunately she's left playing Marilyn the starlet more often than Marilyn the imperfect human being. Thankfully, Williams is able to capture some of Monroe's magic when performing her scenes for the movie within the movie. It's a shame, though, that Curtis' execution makes The Prince and the Showgirl look like something that belongs at the dawn of the sound era, rather than the mid-50s. Kenneth Branagh also has quite a bit of fun as Laurence Olivier. It's all a bit surface-y, although the actor does hit home runs in the handful of scenes that require more than flash.

Unfortunately, the same can't be said of Mr. Redmayne, though none of it is his fault. A talented actor in his own right (I, for one, can't wait to see him as Marius in Tom Hooper's Les Miserables this time next year), the role is such a bland audience-insert that there's little to be done. He's used as our guide into the world of show business, and to tear away the curtain between the magic of Hollywood and the behind-the-scenes conflict, but the film would have been better off not giving him as much attention as it does. This really should have been Marilyn's story, and by sticking so close to Clark's POV, the film feels like little more than a fancy-looking dessert that's lacking in flavor. It all goes down smooth enough, but once you're done you realize that it could have and should have been so much more.

Grade: B-/C+

"Blue Valentine" - REVIEW

Blue Valentine, Derek Cianfrance's (temporarily NC-17 rated) look at a marriage gone awry, opens with a simple enough scenario: the family dog has gotten out of her cage, and is missing. Yet by the time this scene concludes (and an answer is still not given), the film has elegantly, effectively shown you that Dean (Ryan Gosling) and Cindy's (Michelle Williams) marriage isn't in great condition. It's scenes like these, some downcast, some charming, that allow Blue Valentine to reach the filmmaking and acting highs that it does.

As the film's only two real characters (in the sense of being fleshed out), it's up to Gosling and Williams to create a compelling doomed couple, and in this they succeed. It's not necessarily because they're written (initially) as likable people, but rather because of the skill and commitment that the two actors bring to their performances. A scene where Williams almost goes through with an abortion chills all the way down to the bone thanks to the actress's subtle skill at communicating her gradual change of mind.

As a result, neither half of the story ever feels shortchanged, because we believe this couple in their happier days and in their more dour moments. Some have accused the film of being slanted against Williams' character (Cianfrance based it - somewhat - on an actual relationship), but if anything the film leans slightly in the opposite direction. Cindy goes through with her plan to study medicine and becomes a nurse, whereas Dean gives up on his own potential and settles, never actually acting to make life for the household better, even if he wants it. And when the first, only really, explosive argument hits, it all rings true.

Labeled as a love story in reverse, Cianfrance's film is more of a love story put in a blender. It jumps often between the two sides of the film (Dean and Cindy getting together and happy vs. Dean and Cindy married and at odds with each other), though never to be confusing. Transitions between the two sides of the film are handled with a number of elegant linked cuts. A scene in which "Past Dean" look across a hallway and sees Cindy for the first time is followed by a reaction shot of present-day Cindy staring off at something else. These cuts, along with the strangely effective soundtrack by Grizzly Man and near constant presence of the color blue, help add the tiniest flourishes of style in a story that we know is headed for a bad place.

Unfortunately the film, like the relationship, has its issues. Some of the normal cuts between time periods can give off a sense of bi-polar film making, rather than two elegantly woven halves. And though much of the film works, it does sometimes lag. At 1 hour and 50 minutes, it never drags to the point of tedium or boredom, but let's just say that there are a handful of places where you might find your mind wandering. A few minor characters, though played effectively, feel unfortunately one note (ex: Cindy's angry father).

On the whole, though, Cianfrance, through the strong work of his leads, is able to craft a compelling look at a match not quite made in heaven. It never descends into melodrama or engineers cheap ways to elicit overwrought screaming matches from its characters. Films like this are often sunk by aspects like direction or script, and even with the handful of issues with the writing, Cianfrance's film easily stays afloat thanks to the keen awareness of his direction, and the wonderful work from his committed leads.

Grade: B/B+

"Blue Valentine" US theatrical trailer

There have been a few scattered clips here and now, but this totally blows all of that out of the water. I love the way the initial scene is used to frame the other silent clips detailing the ups and downs of the central relationship. Gosling and Williams are two wonderful actors and I'm excited to see both performances when the film arrives in late December, even if it did inexplicably earn an NC-17 rating (wha...).