Review: "The Beguiled"

Director: Sofia Coppola
Runtime: 94 minutes

"There's a war going on, out there, somewhere..." So goes the opening line of current Broadway smash Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812. Cannons and guns wreak havoc in the periphery, while a different conflict is waged in the battlefield of opera houses and parlors among those privileged enough to get out of service. A similar framing device hangs over the characters of The Beguiled as well, draped over like a protective veil made of smoke, fog, and moss. Both works exist in realms of refinement, though the latter finds its characters staving off the ugly reality bubbling just outside their line of sight. 

Given that this is a Sofia Coppola film, none of this is terribly surprising. Her specialty has always been her ability to chronicle the shut-off bubbles, specifically of upper class white women. Whether haunting hotel hallways amid the skyscrapers of Tokyo, or traipsing through an unguarded mansion in Beverly Hills, the notion of isolation is the connective thread holding her oeuvre together. Her adaptation of Thomas Cullinan's novel (previously adapted in the 70s with Clint Eastwood) immediately establishes itself as more of the same, at least thematically. 

But the steady progression of The Beguiled (easily her tightest work of pacing) stealthily gives way to something unexpected: a heated, simmering psychological cat-and-mouse game. Or, rather, a cat-and-mice game. Beneath the Southern hospitality and longing glances cast out of windows is a delicious, cunning genre picture ready to claw its way out at any given moment. For once, Coppola allows her female characters to have their bubble punctured, and even violated. The muffled cannon blasts pepper the film's soundscape, but a different, twisty conflict is about to erupt not on the battlefield, but in a place designed to instill manners. 

It takes only a few minutes before Corporal John McBurney (Colin Farrell) collapses on the doorstep of the Farnsworth home. Headed by the steely Miss Martha (Nicole Kidman), the household's exterior suggests a lack of maintenance, and even disarray. But lessons is music, etiquette, sewing, and French still occupy the time of the girls boarded up their by their wealthy Confederate families. And, being the proper Southern ladies they are, Martha's students and their teacher Edwina (Kirsten Dunst) help McBurney inside to treat his wounds. 

McBurney is obviously injured, but there's still a palpable shock for the girls (and, frankly, the viewer), when his gruesome leg injury appears. Coppola loves her introverted, wan ladies, so to see something so lurid is a bit of a jolt. Not soon after, Miss Martha is sewing up McBurney's wound, in a grisly closeup that wouldn't seem out of place in a Guillermo Del Toro drama. Amid all of this, there is a great deal of lustrous closeups of Mr. Farrell's exposed chest and just as much heaving and "oh, my" breathing from the ladies. 

Coppola has dipped her toes into new territory, and while she never takes a full plunge, her restraint is measured rather than timid. With a thick coat of fog, smoke, and mist smeared across many shots, The Beguiled lands firmly in the territory of Southern Gothic storytelling, albeit with an unconventional structure and sense of pace. 

Using only natural/available light (daylight, candles, etc...), The Beguiled has the painterly look of Kubrick's Barry Lyndon, albeit with a color scheme more reminiscent of Goya or El Greco. Amid all the murk, the cinematographer Philippe Le Sourd conjures up an array of sharp images. Most transfixing are the closeups, of people handling tools, utensils, or bowls. The Farnsworth Academy may be a bit Brigadoon-esque in its removal from the "real" world, but it's still grounded in a tactile sense of place and time. The fineries of life are all these girls and women have to hold on to, other than each other. And so they clasp on, never giving an inch, whether it's to a wine glass or a gun. 

Inevitably, a misshapen lust triangle emerges from the fog, and Coppola finally lights the fuse that's been sitting in the corner the whole time. Coppola has shown she can generate tension (Taissa Farmiga playing with a gun in The Bling Ring), but it's never been stretched out in any of her films. The wind up is masterfully done, and when the fuse finally reaches its lengthy end, the resulting display doesn't underwhelm. 

There is little outright violence in The Beguiled, despite the early flash of gore, though what occurs lands well. More compelling, however, are the little digs and power plays initiated through dialogue, glances, and gestures. Kidman, delivering an antidote to her work in Cold Mountain, takes center stage amid the uniformly strong ensemble. In every meeting (many of which involve most of, or all, of the cast), he eyes seem to be in constant motion. She's keeping tabs on Edwina, the students, and McBurney all at once. The subtlety on display is, like the film as a whole, a wicked delight. Dunst, a Coppola regular, is gently and affecting as Edwina, who wants nothing more than to get as far away as possible. Farrell, as the object of the film's Female Gaze, is excellent too, crafting an intelligent portrait of a man who goes from victim to manipulator (and then back again). 

Tonally, it's not all doom and gloom and ripped bodices. There is a tart sense of humor that hangs in the air along with the perfume, sweat, and hormones. At times, The Beguiled is basically a Gothic-accented comedy of manners. That is, until certain lines are crossed, and the battle lines are drawn. The bubble must be protected after all, and it will be done with a stiff upper lip, a beautiful gown, a prayer, and a very carefully constructed recipe. With a flirty, dangerous wink, Coppola signs off with one of those gems of Southern charm that can be wielded as an invitation or a weapon: Y'all come back now...

Grade: A-

Review: "Strangerland"

Director: Kim Farrant
Runtime: 111 minutes

"Kids go missing out here; it's the land," says an elderly Aboriginal woman. "What does that mean?" replies a panicky Catherine Parker (Nicole Kidman). If you're trying to sum up Kim Farrant's Strangerland, that exchange is the most efficient means. Farrant's missing kids drama is mysterious and unsettling, but also frustratingly opaque. Though headlined by compelling actors and featuring some moody visuals, Farrant's debut doesn't have the complexity to lift its premise above the ordinary.

The above observations are all the more irritating to express, given that Strangerland comes loaded with so much promise. Like an Outback version of Prisoners, the film centers on the aftermath of the disappearing of two children. Parents Catherine and Matthew (Joseph Fiennes) are left reeling, and the ensuing investigation only pushes them further to the emotional brink. Local detective David Rae (Hugo Weaving) does what he can, but he, like everyone else in Strangerland, pales in comparison to the overwhelming force of nature that is the Australian desert. The Outback is not just a setting in Farrant's film, but also an important character. The problem is, by the film's end, the Outback emerges as the most consistent and developed member of the cast.

The issues stem mostly from Farrant's work as a writer, which often undercuts the promising strengths of her direction. Her characters are scattershot at best. Farrant's script teases any number of angles for both characters and plot, yet never has the guts to make a commitment. Even the consistent traits manifest in clunky, unsatisfying ways. The writing is most noticeably a hindrance for Kidman, for whom Strangerland should have provided a total knockout of a role. Instead, Farrant limits her star to playing the same few notes of repressed anguish until the last half hour, when it's time for the histrionics. Kidman does her best to breathe life into the role, but she's ultimately powerless against Farrant's wishy-washy material. Scenes in which Catherine acts out by trying to seduce men have potential on paper, but are clumsily interjected into the narrative. Just when Strangerland looks like it's finding a solid tempo, a left field misstep comes along and everything gets reset. 

The script is, somehow, even less generous to Fiennes and Weaving. Fiennes' Matthew suffers from the same repression as Catherine, only with fewer instances to go below the character's surface. Though at least Fiennes' role has something going on that's more than skin deep. Weaving, despite a natural presence in his role, is utterly wasted. Det. Rae has his own life, but the table scraps he's afforded feel like afterthoughts. They're the sort of details one adds at the last second so as to not fully give away that a major character is mostly a plot device. 

At complete odds with all of this is that some of Farrant's direction is quite solid, and at times even inspired. The film's opening sequence beautifully sets the tone, especially thanks to PJ Dillon's photography and Keefus Ciancia's score. Farrant's command of atmosphere is where Strangerland makes its mark, and it's disheartening to see said atmosphere be used to prop up characters that are badly in need of reworking. 

The ambition here is admirable, but Farrant's attempts to craft a probing, existential look at trauma and tragedy come off as simplistic and repetitive. In the right circumstances, film can turn emotional bleakness into something beautiful and transfixing. Strangerland, sadly, just isn't up to the task. Farrant doesn't need to explain what the Outback does to people, but she does need to provide more than ponderous questions and then leave literally everything else up to the viewer. Strangerland looks and sounds the part, to be sure, and in isolated moments it mesmerizes. But by the time the final shot of Kidman and Fiennes unspools, we're left in the same position as Catherine and Matthew: staring off into the harsh and ruggedly beautiful distance, wondering what the hell any of this means. The Outback didn't stop at swallowing up the Parkers' kids. It went and devoured the whole plot as well. 

Grade: C+

Review: "Grace of Monaco"

Director: Olivier Dahan
Runtime: 103 minutes

Certain cinematic failures can inspire sympathy. There are those noble misfires, films with a few worthwhile aspect drowned in a sea of well-intentioned decisions that simply didn't pan out. And then, there are flat out disasters. After the first five minutes of Olivier Dahan's Grace of Monaco, you'll realize that you're about to sit through a film that belongs in the latter category. Not content to simply be an uneven bio-drama, this behind-the-scenes look at actress Grace Kelly's life in Monaco lacks even a single convincing moment. Mr. Dahan, who directed Marion Cotillard to an Oscar in La Vie En Rose, seems to have already peaked. Sadly, the high point of his career seems to be nowhere as extreme as the lows in which Grace of Monaco finds him. 

Even in bad films of the train wreck variety there can be small pieces worth salvaging (a strong scene, a good performance, a stirring scores). Sadly, that's not the case here. When the film opened the 2014 Cannes Film Festival, it was widely considered one of the worst Opening Night selections in the festival's history. Assuming the Weinstein Company decides to still give the film a mercifully small US release, it will soon also go down as one of the year's worst films as well (and remain a frontrunner for the same honor for the whole decade). 

But, oh, where to begin? In a film like Grace of Monaco, it's often hard to find an entry point into what went wrong, or where the blame should lie, because every piece of the puzzle is a catastrophic failure (if there has to be a saving grace - ha - it's some of the costumes). 

Perhaps it's best to start at the top of the food chain. Dahan's directing style has never been the most elegant, but here he seems to be playing with any number of aesthetics and emotional tones all at once. The handful of editing styles used throughout the film only make this tonal issue more glaring. The earliest "drama" that occurs is that, GASP, someone in the palace of Monaco has told the press that Grace Kelly (Nicole Kidman) might return to Hollywood to star in Alfred Hitchcock's Marnie. None of the actors ever seem able to ground themselves in the material, with Dahan's direction resulting in a bunch of weightless, shrill performances that waste a talented ensemble. Most laughable are the extreme close-ups he uses during "important" one-on-one convos between Grace and her mentor Father Tuck (Frank Langella, hopefully being paid decently for his time). 

Visually, Dahan and his team can't seem to accomplish anything either. In striving to make the film appear lush, Dahan and cinematographer Eric Gautier somehow wound up making the film look like a Lifetime movie. Interior scenes are blasted with soft light, and at times the amount of vaseline smeared on the lens borders on parody. Whatever faults Luca Guadagnino's I am Love had (there are many), it at least knew how to make this visual style look appropriately lush and opulent. 

The film fares no better when it comes to its story or its writing. Arash Amel's screenplay, which was somehow on the Blacklist a few years ago, is meant to focus on Kelly's identity crisis as a wife, mother, former actress, and head of state. But any dramatic tension is quickly sapped when it becomes clear where the story is headed. In the early 60s, Charles De Gaulle threatened to invade Monaco over issues involving tax loopholes that Monaco's Prince Rainier III (Tim Roth). As tensions between France and military-less Monaco mount, Kelly does her best to use her former movie star status to navigate the political minefield she has married into. 

Yet where the political intrigue fails is in the very history it seeks to depict. Monaco's tax loopholes, exploited by French businesses, were essentially a way for very rich people to prevent themselves from becoming slightly less rich. With this in mind, it would have been more satisfying for Amel to go the Inglourious Basterds route, and rewrite history to include French forces storming the palace where many so many of the characters run around in a huff over nothing. Instead, we get a laughable conclusion in the form of Kelly's speech at the Red Cross Gala. Meant to be the big dramatic moment that turns the tide in Monaco's favor, the scene suffers from all of the inanity that precedes it. Individual lines in the film ("Oh, but isn't colonialism SO last century?") elicit unintentional laughter, but the final speech practically dares you not to fall out of your seat in a fit of hysterical disbelief.

More sobering is how bad each and every performance is. The extreme close-ups may emphasize how much Kidman doesn't really look like Grace Kelly, but that would be forgivable if she had found a single convincing moment. Some of it may come down to being miscast, but some of the actress' choices here are just embarrassing. If this was the first performance of hers you had ever seen, you'd wonder how she had ever landed any major roles before, let alone won an Oscar. 

Then there's Tim Roth as Kelly's domineering husband, sniveling through each scene without an ounce of actual humanity behind his stern demeanor. Langella, meanwhile, sleepwalks through his elderly mentor role, and Derek Jacobi turns in a laughably prissy performance as an etiquette coach (he literally holds up emotion cards for Grace, and then judges her ability to convey said emotions). Jacobi's pet parrot, who appears only briefly, deserves special mention for never going over-the-top, despite the work of his cast mates. The actor playing Alfred Hitchcock gets stuck with the worst cliches screenwriters come up with whenever he's used as a character. Every line he has either works in a reference to filmmaking or references one of the famed director's own movies. Lastly, poor Parker Posey is stuck in a Mrs. Danvers-type role so cartoonish that everyone else almost seems convincing for a moment. 

Though Hollywood's obsession with biographical dramas about its own members is tiresome, rarely has the genre sunk so low. It lacks a single moment where it is convincing or compelling as a behind-the-scenes story, as a character study, or as a politically-tinged drama. The dreadful filmmaking is so completely off-base from the start that it almost demands to be seen (almost). Grace Kelly's legacy deserves to shine on forever. Grace of Monaco, however, deserves to be forgotten in a matter of weeks after its release, which is about how long it should take for the DVD to wind up in the bargain bin at Walmart. 

Grade: D-/F

Review: "The Railway Man"

Director: Jonathan Teplitzky
Runtime: 116 minutes

The present day scenes of The Railway Man, based on the horrific WW2 experiences of Eric Lomax, take place in 1980. It's a shame the film wasn't made in that same year. Boasting the sort of prestige-y, historically-driven material that used to get big budgets and sweep awards seasons of yesteryear, this story feels a bit stale. Though the cast is of high caliber, writing and directing positions have been filled by novices. Were David Lean still alive, he would have no doubt worked a small miracle with Lomax's tale of suffering and forgiveness. Instead, The Railway Man is bland and uneven; it's an adequate, moderately stirring story that deserves much, much better.

Helmed by Aussie TV director Jonathan Teplitzky, it's not surprising that The Railway Man is a bit too modest in vision. Recent BBC miniseries like Birdsong and Parade's End have as much, if not more style and visual flair. There's some nice photography, especially in the WW2-set flashbacks, yet it remains a rather muted, stuffy-looking project. 

This shortcoming wouldn't stick out so much if the writing or directing had a better handle on the story. In 1980, WW2 vet Eric Lomax (Colin Firth) is struggling to uphold his marriage to Patti (Nicole Kidman). Lomax is crippled by memories of his traumas on the Pacific theater, when British forces in Singapore were overtaken by the Japanese. The brutality that followed was so brutal that Lomax shuts down whenever Patti tries to get him to open up. 

At least, that's what we're told through a conversation Patti has with Lomax's old war comrade Finlay (Stellan Skarsgard). Jumping between past and present, The Railway Man never grounds itself in adult Eric's life enough to make his eventual reckoning a genuinely compelling moment. Though the 1980-set scenes are filled with all of the big-name actors, it's in the Singapore flashbacks that The Railway Man works best. It's unburdened with filling in psychological gaps, precisely because it exists to create them for the scenes in the future. 

And, despite one or two wobbly, visual effects-driven wide shots, the wartime scenes do feel more convincing, despite their limited scale. Once captured by the Japanese, the British were tasked with building a railroad in Southeast Asia, enduring hellish physical and mental conditions. It's this very story that inspired the classic The Bridge on the River Kwai, albeit told in a far less compelling manner. Whatever registers in the The Railway Man does so at a depth just below skin deep. Young Lomax (Jeremy Irvine) and his comrades are played by a host of unmemorable folk who do no better than the extras filling out the frame. 

The present day cast, thankfully, are much easier to watch. Despite some clunky dialogue, Firth, Kidman, and Skarsgard all do their best to support the script's weak foundations. Firth fares best by virtue of the film ultimately coming down to his decades-long struggle. His interactions opposite Kidman and Skarsgard are convincing, although they're in dire need of expansion. No one is helped, however, by the shoddy opening act setting up Eric and Patti's romance, which is stitched together like a rather dreary-looking romantic comedy. The film gets a small boost in the final half hour thanks to the introduction of Hiroyuki Sanada (as the adult version of Lomax's main interrogator), yet by that point it's not nearly enough. 

So, even though The Railway Man is never exactly boring, it can't help but feel a bit stodgy, even in its best moments. It's not an embarassment for anyone involved, but rather a disappointment. There is such rich material at the heart of Lomax's story, yet Teplitzky and the screenplay keep fumbling around. It's never emotionally stillborn, but it's also moving too slowly to make a mark on the viewer the way that WW2 did on Lomax himself. 

Grade: C

Review: "Stoker"

Director: Chan-wook Park
Runtime: 98 minutes

If Jee-woon Kim's The Last Stand was an example of a foreign director succumbing to the Hollywood machine, then consider Chan-wook Park's Stoker a delightfully mad case wherein a director smoothly transplants his style to an English-language feature. The South Korean auteur, best known for his wince-inducing Vengeance Trilogy (specifically Oldboy) reportedly didn't speak much English on the film's set. In some cases, it shows, as the dialogue from Wentworth Miller's script can sometimes feel like a first draft. Yet where Mr. Park can't quite overcome the wobbly dialogue, he compensates by creating some exquisite visual story-telling. Stoker's script may be problematic in certain areas, and it doesn't quite get to the same level of humanity of some of Park's earlier films. At the same time, this is perhaps the director's best executed film in terms of story pacing and (brilliantly over-the-top) atmosphere. 

As much as Stoker has been marketed as a near-horror film, it actually stakes out much more interesting territory in which to play its wicked games. Said territory is that of a psycho-sexual thriller. Stoker's set-up is efficient and introduces the major players, before segueing into a beautifully amorphous narrative of sexual awakening, manifested in flashes of dark violence. On her 18th birthday, India Stoker (Mia Wasikowska) learns that her father Richard (Dermot Mulroney) has died in a car crash. On the day of Richard's funeral, India's mysterious uncle Charlie (Matthew Goode) slips into the Stoker family, and quickly charms India's desperate housewife of a mother Evie (Nicole Kidman). From there on, the film is less interested in simple answers or entirely believable actions as it is in the way Charlie upsets the recently traumatized Stoker household.

For Kidman's Evie, Charlie represents a romantic interest in light of her husband's passing. For India, Charlie is a mysterious stranger determined to draw her out of her sullen state of unsexed adolescence. In the film's most arresting sequence, Charlie joins India at the piano for a duet, and the escalating music, coupled with the silent body movements (a carefully placed hand, an ankle twisted in anxiety) make it clear that Park's gifts as a director have lost nothing in the big leap from Asia to North America. The film is heavily stylized, perhaps more than any of the director's previous work. The camera movements, which often swoop over to indicate a character's point of view, certainly aren't aiming for subtlety, nor is the sound design or Clint Mansell's score. For as deeply as emotions (and secrets) remain opaque, the film charges ahead full throttle on the aesthetic front. One could argue that this choice nearly smothers whatever substance there is, but the aesthetics are consistent from the start. You'll likely either find them enthralling or hugely off-putting. 

Yet even as Stoker throws its surface in the audience's face, there remains a heart - albeit a very chilly one - underneath that surface. The in-your-face sights and sounds - coupled with some really beautiful editing - are beautifully in-sync with Wasikowska's slowly awakening India. The character remains rather stoic for the most part, yet the flashy style creates a wonderful fever-dream atmosphere that perfectly taps into the film's sinister vision of burgeoning female sexuality. Yet as stone-faced as India remains, Wasikowska never lets the role trap her. In fact, Stoker is perhaps the best use of the actress' wan features and reserved persona to date. There are little touches of perverse enjoyment and sardonic wit that permeate the performance, and Park gives them room to breathe, even amidst the heavy style. 

The adults in India's world aren't slouches either. Kidman, though not given too much to do throughout, handles her flighty, flustered trophy wife role with aplomb. Many of her scenes simply require her for sheer star power and presence, but when the actress finally gets the chance to deliver, she knocks it out of the park in a spectacularly concise monologue.  And Goode, who really ought to be a bigger star (at least on the indie level) by now, is a perfectly unsettling stranger. The actor's angular features (his face and eyes often carry a vaguely reptilian look), and silky, steady voice create an interesting puzzle of a man who, to be frank, really doesn't have much in the way of development across the film. But the film's ultimately Wasikowska's (and also Park's), and she carries it on her slender frame with an effortlessness that has eluded many of her previous performances. 

Where Stoker runs into some level of trouble is in its third act. Now, from a purely narrative standpoint, I'll admit that I enjoyed it, even if it was somewhat on the banal side. It's a classic case of a tired trope that works due to the specifics and the execution. Yet one key revelation between acts two and three has the unfortunate potential of making earlier scenes not add up, or at least become less convincing. Mr. Park seems more concerned with the three-way relationship in the Stoker house more than anything, which requires the audience to suspend our disbelief more than we might expect. In this sense, Stoker can easily be compared to the work of Hitchcock, whose films often contained plot elements that seemed flimsy only after one left the darkness of the theater. The same is certainly the case here. How much you enjoy Stoker, during or after the film, may very well depend on how much you think the execution smooths out the screenplay. There's a reason the film has proven divisive on multiple levels. 

Yet even as I found quibbles with the narrative's twist and the way I was forced to reconsider early scenes, I still found myself firmly under Park's spell. More than any of the director's other films, which have a tendency to sag in the middle, Stoker moves with a sinister elegance all the way through its somewhat predictable conclusion. The effective performances and truly exquisite level of craftsmanship created a deliciously dark experience that often left me mesmerized and/or violently clutching my arm rests. No matter what I can think of about Stoker's plot or its occasionally stiff dialogue, I can't deny that the film displays Park's directorial powers at their absolute height in more than one instance. Flaws and all, Stoker sent a surge through my body that has left me unable to get the film out of my head. Call the film style-over-substance if you want, but it's one hell of a style. 

Grade: B/B+

Cannes '12 Review(s): "The Paperboy," "The Angel's Share," and "Post Tenebras Lux"

The Paperboy dir. Lee Daniels [Competition]
I remain convinced that The Paperboy isn't a good movie, but that doesn't mean that you should avoid it. Quite the contrary. It should be near the top of your list of films to see this year, because I can guarantee that it will give you plenty to talk about. Honestly, bad movies sometimes seem less bad if they are at least interesting.


Adapted from Pete Dexter's novel of the same name, The Paperboy tells the story of Jack James (Zac Efron), a small-town paperboy in Florida who helps his journalist brother Ward (Matthew McConaughey) and parter Yardley (David Oyelowo) investigate whether a local man (John Cusack) was wrongfully imprisoned. In the process, Jack also starts to fall for Charlotte Bless (Nicole Kidman), a woman with a thing for convicts who is engaged to the incarcerated, despite having never met him in person. What follows is a mystery drama that alternates between being dull and being wildly entertaining in an exceedingly trashy, campy fashion. At one point Charlotte bitches out some local beach dwellers for the right to urinate on Jack's jellyfish sting and then yells, "If anyone's gonna piss on him, it's gonna be me!" If that's not entertainment, I don't know what is. Unfortunately, not enough of the movie is of the trash/camp variety. Mostly it's a series of dull scenes that somehow feel only remotely attached to the plot. The characters interact, yet the plot seems to progress entirely outside of the movie. 


Thankfully, some of the scenes are entertaining enough to make up for it, and the performances are all engaging. Kidman and Cusack are standouts, the former creating a sexbomb with a vulnerable side, the latter exuding surprising amounts of menace that make you doubt whether he should be allowed back into society, even if he's innocent. Efron is probably the weak link, though it really just comes down to one scene near the end. You have to admire the cast for keeping it together through Daniels' pulpy treatment of the source material. That had to be a challenge.


Grade: C-

The Angel's Share dir. Ken Loach [Competition]
An amiable comedy that isn't much of a comedy, Ken Loach's return to Cannes (his 11th time) is the sort of pleasant diversion that you can take or leave. It's certainly not must-see viewing, but there are worse things you could see. Compared to some of the films in competition, however, it comes off as hopelessly lightweight, despite skimming the surface of its protagonist's emotional turmoil.


Set primarily in Glasgow, Share centers on a group of young men and women doing community service. The group begins to bond with their supervisor, and one day he takes them to a whisky tasting. It's there that they discover that Robbie (Paul Brannigan) has a good nose for different types of whisky. Simultaneously, they devise a plan to steal an incredibly rare cask of the liquor to sell to a high end connoisseur. 


Nothing about the plot is remotely surprising, and the same goes for the character arcs. Loach, known for bracing social dramas, is taking it somewhat easy here, though one wishes he and screenwriter Paul Laverty had put a little more effort into building up the stakes and the humor. Performances are solid all around, with Brannigan making an appealing anchor for the story, but like the movie, there's no standouts. If anything, the film has too much in the way of serious elements, while simultaneously being devoid of strong comedic material. So by the time it rolls around to the conclusion, you know where it's going, and there's nothing to surprise you. It's not quite lazy, but rather a little too unambitious for its own good.


Grade: C

Post Tenebras Lux dir. Carlos Reygadas [Competition]
An excruciatingly dull piece of "art," Lux is a vague, distant attempt at...well, it's an attempt at something. Yet nothing, save for the image of a glowing red devil creeping through a house, clicks or comes together for an interminable two hours, resulting in a film that's both bad and boring. It doesn't get much worse.


After a protracted opening of a little girl running around some farmland yelling at the cows ("Vacas!...Vacas!...Vac-" SHUT UP), we're introduced to a family in Mexico. That's all I'll say because, despite an odd venture to a sex sauna, I find it tiresome to write much more. Critics can trash talk The Paperboy all they want, but nothing approaches the awfulness of this pretentious piece of drivel. Reygadas has some ideas in mind, yet the approach and nature of the narrative lacks any spark. It's that rare disaster that's mystifyingly un-engaging right from its opening scene. Avoid at all costs.


Grade: D

Review: "Trespass"

I really have to wonder why Nicole Kidman chose to take part in Joel Schumacher's Trespass. Did she want an easy paycheck? Did she owe someone a favor? Did she want to get kissed by Cam Gigandet? Did her double duties as star and producer of Rabbit Hole wear her out and cloud her judgement? I would hope that it's one of the above, because there's really no reason why an actress of her caliber is slumming it in this second (third? fourth?) rate home-invasion thriller. The man in the director's chair certainly doesn't help matters.

Ever a hit-and-miss director, Joel Schumacher has been on something of a downward spiral recently, and Trespass does absolutely nothing to reverse the trend. Kyle and Sarah Miller (Nicholas Cage and Kidman, respectively) are a wealthy couple with a teenaged daughter. Kyle does...well, honestly, it doesn't matter. You just need to know that diamonds are involved. One night, while trying to keep their daughter Avery (Liana Liberato) from going to a friend's party (she sneaks out anyway), the couple are overtaken by burglars. What starts as a seemingly regular robbery spirals out of control as the burglars' identities and backstories come to light.

All in all, it's not a terrible premise for a thriller, but in the end it's execution that counts, and good lord, are there problems with the execution. Though it establishes the Miller family and gets to the robbery efficiently, the more Trespass goes on, the further down the rabbit hole of stupidity it goes. The script, by Karl Gajdusek, certainly deserves a lot of the blame. Characters, both burglars and victims, make increasingly dumb decisions just so the plot can agonizingly protract itself. It says a lot about a movie when the smartest (I'm using that term lightly) character is the angsty teenaged daughter. Aspects like this ruin whatever B-movie funTrespass might have held for its audience, barring a few unintentionally funny lines. But the bigger, and more distracting, offender is Schumacher's direction, which appears to have been limited to telling his performers to say each line louder than the last. So for all of the screaming, pointed guns, death threats, broken glass, and attempts at improvised kidney-removal surgery (yes, you read that correctly), there's rarely a moment when any tension materializes.

It's really a shame, because there's enough talent among the cast to make this feel like a wasted opportunity, rather than shameless junk. Ben Mendelsohn, last seen giving a chilling performance in Animal Kingdom, makes a perfectly compelling ring-leader, while Kidman and Liberato give passable performances (though they're often reduced to yelling at the top of their lungs). Cage, often the subject of ridicule these days, does OK for himself too, dialing it down and never going any more over the top than the rest of the ensemble. There are, however, two dead weights in the cast who drag it all down. First is Jordana Spiro as the lone female burglar. The script tries to liven up the character by giving her a drug addiction, though all it really adds it the opportunity to see Ms. Spiro strut about in her underwear for no justifiable reason. Her acting certainly doesn't help matters; at least when most everyone else is yelling, it's believable, regardless of how shrill and exhausting it all is. That is, except for Cam Gigandet. To say that this is an actor who has gotten by on his looks would be an understatement. Where I previously remembered him as the worst part of Easy A, now I get to remember him as the worst part of Trespass. You can almost feel what little stardom he has evaporating as the movie goes on. To be fair the performance is actually acceptable for the first act or so of the film. Unfortunately, in an attempt to keep us on our toes, Gajdusek inserts one of his dumb little twists. Turns out Gigandet's character is a bit of a closet psychotic who wants to 'rescue' Sarah. I rest my case.

On the technical front there's really nothing worth mentioning. Lighting is acceptable and appropriately moody without being ridiculous, and the score, while predictable, never becomes intrusive. I might have to reconsider that last sentence though, because I spent a good deal more time watching Ms. Kidman's weave unravel (it truly is a wonder) than I did really soaking in the film's production values. However, to sum things up, as far as production values go, it's perfectly adequate, with virtually nothing that would make you think that Trespass was originally headed straight to DVD. Worse films have made their ways into theaters, not that this gets Trespass off of the hook. Schumacher's latest is little more than a lukewarm thriller that features characters who aren't worth caring about, and a plot that switches directions and character motivations so often that you only have a mild interest (at best) in who lives or dies. There's neither enough legitimate moments of suspense, nor a camp factor to make the ride enjoyable, even with a clean 90 minute run time. Rather than wind up being casual, dumb fun,Trespass is merely dumb and forgettable, to the point where, as I write this, it's already fading quickly from memory.

Review: C-/D+

"Rabbit Hole" - REVIEW

Losing a child can never be an easy experience. It's the sort of event that lingers and lingers, and even when you think it's gone, it finds ways of reminding you that it's still there in your thoughts. It's also a subject that has been done to death (excuse the pun) on film. It's an excuse for big weepy moments, filled with angst-y dialogue and blubbering. Sometimes it's the main part of a film, and somethings it's just a point in the overall story, but either way, it's a story/device that is often used to wring out tears, often by shamelessly yanking at audiences' heartstrings. And differing from these traits is exactly what makes Rabbit Hole, John Cameron Mitchell's adaptation of David Lindsey-Abaire's Tony-winning play, such a success.

One of the wisest choices Abaire made (he adapted the screenplay himself) comes down to timing. Instead of dealing with the loss of a child in the immediate aftermath, the story of Becca and Howie Corbett (Nicole Kidman and Aaron Eckhart) is set 8 months after the tragedy. This gives Abaire, Mitchell, and the actors room to play their roles as more fully formed characters, as opposed to "grief stricken wife" or "grief stricken grandmother." And most surprisingly, it even allows Abaire's script the opportunity to present moments of *gasp* humor. It's these tiny moments of levity and relief that keep the film from drowning the audience in mawkish, non-stop suffering. That his writing is often quite swift only helps the scenes and story move with a certain briskness that prevents the heavy tone from weighing the movie down the whole way through. And remarkably, Mitchell, known for such outrageous films as Hedwig and the Angry Inch, directs with a beautiful simplicity, working in just enough to keep to film from feeling stage-y. But of course, none of that would matter if the performances weren't up to task.

And leading the charge through it are Kidman and Eckhart as the central couple. Kidman, who's had a rough few years, finally gets a chance to show us what a three-dimensional actress she can be. She plays Becca as a woman who has been so battered by grief that it's left her as a jagged cliffside of a person. And yet, despite some of the things she says and does, the performance never goes overboard to the point where we dislike or hate her. Even early on when she calls out a grief-therapy session member for being a "god-freak," we get a sense of why this character is acting this way, even if we wouldn't have done the same thing. In both her quiet/layered scenes, and in her few "showy" ones, she sells the character, as does Eckhart, who is every bit her acting equal in this, and deserves every bit of recognition. As the more overtly sympathetic character, Eckhart never manipulates the audience into thinking that he's character is the "right one." The two of them together, both when they share scenes or when they're apart, create a beautifully compelling pair of performances that easily rank among the year's best.

Lending them support are Dianne Wiest as Becca's mother, who has endured loss of her own, Tammy Blanchard as Becca's free-spirit of a younger sister, and Miles Teller as the teenager responsible for the death of the Corbett's son. As the Corbetts interact with these and others, the story unfolds in a slightly episodic, but never clunky manner, clipping along at a generally nice speed, and bolstered by Anton Sanko's beautiful and delicate score. At moments, the script puts the actors into such awkward/tense places, that it feels as if they're performing on a high-wire, and the result is electrifying.

But what's best about it, above all, is the honesty in the script, the direction, and in the beautiful performances. The part of the film that hit me hardest - no spoilers - was one that if I were to describe it, would probably make you scratch your head. But in context of the film, it was a strange yet fitting point for the emotions that have been so deeply buried throughout the film to pour out. And best of all, when it seems like there's no way out for the characters or the audience, the film concludes on a perfect final scene that mixes in an appropriate dose of heaviness while still offering a glimmer of hope.

Grade: B+/A-

"Rabbit Hole" trailer

Very interesting, which is good considering the length of the trailer and the heavy subject matter. What also surprises me is the the subdued yet somehow still intriguing use of "real life" colors. Funny, because the two clips released last month seemed so limited and almost drab in their color scheme. Regardless, Kidman, Eckhart, and Wiest all look really strong, and it will be exciting to see how this film factors into awards season. The big question mark will be whether Kidman can break into the crowded best actress field after such a long absence. AMPAS does love a "comeback" performance, even though Kidman was never really gone...

Awards Season notables: Kings, co-leads, and James Franco [updated]

A significant amount of info has recently been released regarding the oh-god-it's-almost-time awards season mania about to descend upon us. First up, and somewhat late on my part, is news of The King's Speech's triumph in Toronto. Tom Hooper's film about the stuttering King George VI took the People's Choice Award at the now-concluded film festival. In recent years, winners of this award have gone on to rather strong success, including a little film called Slumdog Millionaire. And speaking of that film, Danny Boyle's current leading man James Franco led the way in the festival's critics poll over stiff competition from the likes of 'King's's Colin Firth. As of now, the Best Actor race really is down to these exceptionally well-received performances. Not to worry for The King's Speech; it also took home the award for Best Supporting Actor for leading Oscar contender (for now) Geoffrey Rush.

Also notable in the results from TIFF's poll is the placement of Kelly Reichardt's Meek's Cutoff, starring Michelle Williams (who has her own Oscar hopeful in the form of Blue Valentine) as the best liked narrative feature, beating out tough competition like Black Swan. Another Year, and Palme D'Or winner Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives. Williams landed in 5th in the Lead Performance poll for Meek's Cutoff, right above Rabbit Hole's Nicole Kidman, who tied for sixth. Surprisingly high-ranked is Matt Reeves Let Me In, the American remake/re-adaptation of 2008's critically acclaimed Let the Right One In.

Meanwhile, in campaign news, Best Actress just became a little more crowded. People have been speculating for a while as to which one of the The Kids Are All Right ladies would be relegated to supporting. As it turns out, neither will be. The decision from Focus Features is that both Julianne Moore and Annette Bening will be campaigned as lead. Should they both score nominations in late January, they'll be only the sixth pair to do so, and the first since the 1991 Oscar race:

Thelma and Louise (1991): Geena Davis and Susan Sarandon

Terms of Endearment (1983): Shirley Maclaine (winner) and Debra Winger
The Turning Point (1977): Anne Bancroft and Shirley Maclaine
Suddenly, Last Summer (1959): Katharine Hepburn and Elizabeth Taylor
All About Eve (1950): Anne Baxter and Bette Davis

Toronto Review Round Up: "Rabbit Hole"

Despite turning in some strong work in the past few years, Nicole Kidman has unfortunately found herself in that category of recent Oscar winners who just can't seem to catch a break. Ever since Cold Mountain (2003) and Dogville (2003/4 depending on your preference), nearly everything film she's been part of has been met with either mixed or negative reviews (which is a shame; I actually liked Birth and Australia quite a bit). Her latest attempt to get back on everyone's good side is Rabbit Hole, John Cameron Mitchell's (Hedwig and the Angry Inch) directorial adaptation of David Lindsey-Abaire's critically acclaimed play (which won Cynthia Nixon a Tony). After missing out on the Cannes and Venice film festivals, the film, also starring Dianne Wiest, and Sandra Oh, has finally been shown before the public, and if you've been waiting for the start of a "Kidman comeback," you can finally breathe a sigh of relief, if the first reviews and audience reactions are any indication.

Cinema Blend's Katey Rich gets things off to a glowing start, praising Mitchell's direction for "[opening] up the story without ever overdoing it. Most importantly, he leaves room for his stupendous actors to take over." And as for flaws, Rich points them out, but makes them seem minor at most. She writes that "Not everything in Rabbit Hole avoids cliche - the one screaming and crying scene between Becca and Howie feels a little forced," and "while Lindsey-Abaire's writing can put too fine a point on things in some scenes, it frequently takes your breath away with its insight." The Hollywood Reporter's Kirk Honeycutt isn't quite as positive, claiming that the film is "a little too self-conscious for its own good" in that nearly every scene involves the tragedy that sets off the film. Still, he praises much of the writing, despite some of it being "heavygoing" in subject matter.

Of the performances he has much nicer things to say, especially of Kidman, whose performance he calls "riveting because she essentially plays the entire film at two levels." Over at Variety, Peter Debruge calls the film "refreshingly positive-minded" in its treatment of the grim subject matter, and praises the film's use of humor. Debruge also highlights Kidman and Eckhart's work, which he calls "expert [and] understated." Like Rich, Debruge says that the film has been "adroitly expanded" from the stage version, which certainly helps to erase those fears that the film's stage origins might feel too obvious. Finally, the Seattle Times' Moira Macdonald writes in her late-night festival summary, "Saw my last TIFF '10 movie this morning and it was a stunner: Rabbit Hole."

Additional Reviews:

RopeofSilicon: "These characters feel real and so does their sadness and the way they go about trying to cope. Instead of their grief wearing on you, you want to reach out and give them a hug."

Toronto Verdict: A largely successful transition from stage to screen, thanks in large part to Mitchell's direction, Lindsey-Abaire's adaptation of his own work, and an ensemble filled with terrific performances led by Kidman and Eckhart.

Gwyneth Paltrow jumps ship on "The Danish Girl"

Maybe Ms. Theron can jump back on? Ugh, I really don't know what's going on with this film. I was always skeptical that it would be filmed and finished with post in time for a 2010 release. Come on Chris Martin, why did you need to support her? Tell her to get back in there so this can get made and Nicole Kidman can have something interesting to follow up...a movie co-starring Heidi Montag...

Source: Yahoo News/Reuters

Gwyneth recently parted ways with "The Danish Girl," a film project she was previously attached to that will star Nicole Kidman, due to a location change, and the blonde told Harper's that Chris [Martin] said something about that decision that made her appreciate him more.

"When I pulled out [of 'The Danish Girl], he said, 'I think you'll be happy with your decision.' I really lucked out with him. He's deeply lovely and special," she said.

Three Colors: Marion

The Lady from Shanghai

A while ago Marion Cotillard, the new Queen of Awesome, became the newest celebrity headliner for Christian Dior. She took part in a music video for the Annie Liebovitz helmed "Lady Rouge" extended ad, and sang a song written by Franz Ferdinand. Little did I know that this was just the tip of the iceberg. It's a three part ad campaign, with each segment centered on a color. The first was Olivier Dahan's "Lady Noire", a gorgeous six-minute short. Second is the aforementioned "Lady Rouge". Third, and perhaps most intriguing, is the project mentioned in the iceberg link, a blue themed, Shanghai-set 12 minute short directed by the master of weirdness, David Lynch. The reason this excites me so much is that it reminds of my favorite overly-theatrical celebrity commerical ever. I really hope Lynch's involvement is just the start of their collaboration. The thought of Lynch working his weirdness on someone so beautiful and dramatically compelling as Cotillard gives me chills. Perhaps he can come up with something akin to Mulholland Dr., but with Cotillard as the heart and soul of the project? We know that the woman can carry a movie, so it's really just a matter of the two having enough actor-director chemistry to pull it off. I know I'll be keeping my fingers crossed.

It's about time for an Oscar comeback, wouldn't you agree?

Too good to be true? Let's hope not...

Source: Unknown

Nicole Kidman, Kate Blanchett and Clive Owen in Turkish Film

Last Updated 02.01.2010

CHARACTERS ARE DETERMINED
Turkish director living in the United States Binnur Karaevli, is bringing together giants in the first movie! Karaevli; Alev Lytle selling Croutier'in film adapted from the book will 'Palace of Tears "for the project named Nicole Kidman, Kate Blanchett and Clive Owen made an agreement in principle. Three famous 'Valide Sultan', 'Aimée du Buc de Sultan' and 'Abdul Aziz' characters will be portrayed.

ABOUT THIS BOOK
It is 1868. On a balmy autumn afternoon in Paris, young winemaker Casimir de Châteauneuf wanders into a small shop filled with curiosities from the Orient. There he spies a cache of fine miniature portraits.

Above all others, an ivory-skinned beauty captivates him. Her eyes ... one blue, the other yellow. That night they pursue Casimir in his dreams, as one burning question consumes him: Who is she?

Thus begins Alev Croutier’s lush, stirring adventure of the heart — a mesmerizing tale of forbidden passion, true love, and destiny. For Casimir will forsake his family, his vocation, and his country to find the object of his obsession.

His journey will lead him across desert and sea, from the Royal Court in Paris to a sultan’s palace in Istanbul. And there he will find the woman of his reveries, the woman with one blue eye, the other yellow.

But in this city of passion, in a Palace of Tears, Casimir is about to discover what it will mean to make a dream real ... and what awaits him when his lover is set free.

Australia - REVIEW

One of the easiest observations one can make about "Australia" is that they don't quite make them like this any more. "Australia" is above all things, old fashioned (lines between good and evil are drawn clearly, the bad guy has no redeeming qualities, etc...) and un-apologetically so. It is truly the epitome of the "sweeping" romance genre that has just about died out, where things are painted in broad strokes, and where the plot continues to stretch on and on, and you sometimes wish that it would keep going. Granted, it's not up to par with Baz Luhrmann's musical acid-trip, "Moulin Rouge!", but it has its share of brilliance, albeit in a less over-the-top/theatrical manner. Many scenes have a layered look, where backgrounds look less real than foregrounds, so as to create a sort of fairy-tale-pop-up-book look. At times it can be a little distracting, especially in a heart-pounding cattle stampede in the first act, but luckily it never completely derails the movie. At its center is the relationship between English aristocrat Lady Sarah Ashley (Kidman), ranchhand The Drover (Jackman), and a mysterious aboriginee boy named Nullah (Brandon Walters, making a lovely acting debut). Predictably, Drover and Sarah start off quarreling (some of it with hilarious results), but eventually begin to fall for each other. Sounds predictable enough, right? And this is where the magic of Mr. Luhrmann comes into play. Just like with "Moulin Rouge", Mr. Luhrmann takes the type of story that we've seen done a million times, and manages to tell it in a refreshing way that stands out. Perhaps most unique (and most charming) is the way that "The Wizard of Oz" is woven into the plot, for results ranging from comical (Sarah trying to sing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" to Nullah) to charming (Nullah actually getting to see "Oz") to haunting (a fusion of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and "Ave Maria"). If it sounds corny, it surprisingly isn't, and the little references and musical flourishes dedicated to "The Wizard of Oz" don't feel forced, but rather flow seamlessly with the story. Yet perhaps the biggest surprise in all of "Australia" is its sense of humor. The first third of the film is where 95% of the humor is, and some of it is gold. Watch out for a purposefully over-the-top scene with Lady Ashley getting overly excited about the site of kangaroos, that takes a rather odd turn (and one that gives Kidman the chance to tap into her often neglected comedic prowess). Though this is neither her best performance nor the most memorable character in her career, Kidman still manages to turn a cardboard cut out of a character and make Lady Ashley a living, breathing, person. Jackman, though not quite as nuanced, proves that he's one of the few actors out there who can pull off the rough-hewn leading man role with plenty of charisma and charm, while Walters exudes charm and innocence as Nullah. David Wenham makes good as the loathsome villain, along with David Gulpilil as an old mystic who guides Nullah on his spiritual journey from afar. Cinematography, while not as beautifully oversaturated as "Moulin Rouge", is still wonderful and manages to capture the Outback's more rugged beauty, while costumes and sets look grand. Tying it all together is David Hirschfelder's score, which pounds away to great effect, even bringing in a screeching choir during the brief-but-spectacular Darwin bombing sequence. Part opposites-attract love story, part western adventure, part spiritual fairy tale, and part somber war tale, "Australia" was a truly gargantuan undertaking for a director who has previously relied on stories confined to a smaller stage. Australia the continent provides Luhrmann with the biggest stage possible, and its history, its culture, its people, and, well, its actors, all serve him beautifully, and Mr. Luhrmann proves that he is the cinematic wizard of that strange and beautiful continent down under.

Grade: A

Nominations: Best Picture(#2), Best Director - Baz Luhrmann(#2), Best Actor - Hugh Jackman(#3), Best Actress - Nicole Kidman(#2), Best Supporting Actor - Brandon Walters(#4), Best Original Screenplay(#1 WINNER), Best Editing(#2), Best Cinematography(#1 WINNER), Best Art Direction(#1 WINNER), Best Costume Design(#1 WINNER), Best Original Score - David Hirshfelder(#1 WINNER), Best Original Song - The Drover by Elton John(#4), Best Makeup(#1 WINNER), Best Visual Effects(#3), Best Sound Editing(#2), Best Sound Mixing(#2)

Number of 2008 Films Seen: 42

Top 10 of the Year:
1. The Dark Knight
2. Australia
3. WALL-E
4. In Bruges
5. Burn After Reading
6. The Fall
7. Vicky Cristina Barcelona
8. I've Loved You So Long
9. The Duchess
10. Rachel Getting Married