Review: "Miss Julie"

Director: Liv Ullmann
Runtime: 129 minutes

During one of the climactic scenes of Miss Julie, the titular character implores her valet to stay by her side because he understands her. She may very well be right about her assessment, considering the tumultuous evening and morning spent with her servant over the course of the film. But even if the valet does understand Miss Julie, that same understanding of character appears to elude writer and director Liv Ullmann in her adaptation of August Strindberg's play. Powerful (though sporadically overheated) performances from the three main actors are the only real draw in this uneven and often stagey production.

Tensions between the sexes have appeared in numerous recent releases, but Miss Julie has the advantage of working in a discussion of class. Over the course of a midsummer night in 1890s Ireland, wealthy Miss Julie (Jessica Chastain) will do her best to coerce her valet John (Colin Farrell) into seducing her while his fiancee Kathleen (Samantha Morton) watches. With Julie's father, a baron, gone to a party and the rest of the servants at their own celebration, it doesn't take long for tensions to rise. The baron's estate is quite spacious, even encompassing a wide stretch of lush forrest, but the characters are increasingly trapped by their surroundings, with only each other as company.

The first 15 minutes or so don't bode terribly well, and may be enough to convince some that spending time with these three isn't worth it. The opening passages of the story are written and performed in a halting, stiff manner that seems like the work of a nervous theater troupe on opening night. When Miss Julie charges into the kitchen to start toying with her two servants, scenes are cut together with amateurish abruptness. Revealing a character's motivations over time is hardly new, but Miss Julie's initial, erratic behavior rings false because there's nothing to latch onto. A brief prologue with Julie as a child adds nothing until the film is almost over. It creates a series of rushed histrionics, rather than a clear arc for the character. Chastain does the best she can, but the character is too unformed at the start for anyone to really make sense of.

This isn't helped by the structure of the first half of the film, which positions Julie as a listener and observer instead of an active participant. The writing is so enraptured with John's past that at times one wonders why the story was named after Miss Julie at all. Pitting two characters against each other for long periods of time can be powerful stuff, but it tends to work better if both sides are engaged at the same time, rather than standing idly by as if they're in a formal debate.

The subject and setting, with its isolated characters confronting their own demons and each other, certainly seems like an ideal fit for Ullmann. As the longtime partner of Ingmar Bergman, she's had her fair share of experience with stories like Miss Julie, albeit in front of the camera. Yet even Bergman's smallest, simplest stories with captured with a visual dimensionality that transcended the limitations of the stage. Miss Julie, by contrast, is often quite flat. The subject matter doesn't demand any flashy tricks, but at times Ullmann's framing is so mundane that you might as well be watching the actors on a stage. More curious is how the staginess of the direction has seeped into the performances. The cast appears to have been directed to over-emphasize every huff and puff and gesture (good god, the hand gestures) as though they're trying to make sure people in the nosebleed seats can hear them. They're playing to the rafters, when there's a perfectly good camera and sound team only a few feet away from them.

Yet even though the performances boil over, they remain compelling. The longer Miss Julie goes on, the more consistent all aspects of the filmmaking become. The first half belongs to Farrell, who delivers some of the best acting moments of his career as the lowly valet turned unwilling seducer. There's an earnestness and vulnerability to the performance that shows a different side of the actor after his strong work in a few dark comedies. It's through John that Strindberg's ideas about class and equality first appear, and Farrell makes the most of his early monologues. 

And after a rocky start, Chastain really takes hold of the titular role. The character gains considerable dramatic breathing room as the film progresses, which benefits the actress considerably. As Miss Julie starts to lose control of herself and come unraveled, Chastain goes in the opposite direction and begins to dominate the movie. She captures Julie's mix of haughty superiority and deeply buried fragility with powerful results. When Julie is pushed to her breaking point, she explodes with a volcanic fury that Chastain turns into what might be the most harrowing piece of acting she's done yet. The calm that follows Julie's storm is equally wrenching, finally adding some uncomfortable emotional heft to the stodgy storytelling.

Samantha Morton, meanwhile, is less fortunate. The character is an important wrench in John and Julie's bleak little duel, but Morton has even less room for nuance than her co-stars. With more to do, Morton's Kathleen could have been an invaluable supporting player. Instead, she's a distraction from the appetizing possibilities of John and Julie's emotional sparring. Thankfully, Morton's final appearances are worthwhile, adding a religious perspective to Miss Julie's notions of power, wealth, and servitude.

From a technical standpoint, Ullmann's film looks and sounds adequate, never getting in the way of the performances. With its limited time frame, Miss Julie doesn't have lots of opportunity for change, so costumes and sets are kept to a bare minimum. The lone noteworthy behind the scenes contributor is cinematographer Michail Krichman, who has at least lit and shot everything quite nicely. Several key shots involve harsh white light falling on the sides of the actors' faces, and they lend a stark beauty to images with limited visual possibility.

Miss Julie certainly ends much stronger than it begins, but the ideas of Strindberg's play still lack elegance. Somewhere in the original text is the potential for a well-rounded examination of the author's themes, but this version isn't quite up to the task. It hits its points in fits and starts, and saves too much of most powerful material for the end, leaving the early stretches quite malnourished.

Grade: C+

Cannes '12 Review(s): "Cosmopolis" and "Mud"

 Cosmopolis dir. David Cronenberg [Competition]
A strong match of director and material, David Cronenberg's Cosmopolis, an adaptation of Don Delilo's novel, is an odd, icy film that remains compelling despite some intentionally brittle performances. Set over the course of a single day, we follows Eric Packer (Robert Pattinson), a 28 year old executive who wants to travel across town to get a haircut. For various reasons, the trip is delayed, and over the course of the day, Packer's life undergoes enormous personal and financial changes.


From the outset, Cosmopolis seems to be split in two. One half, the atmosphere, is quietly compelling, drawing you in even as the other half, the performances, seem designed to keep us at bay. The dialogue feels rigid, and the performers generally go along with the withdrawn oddity of the general tone. Trapped mostly in Packer's luxurious limousine, this is a surprisingly quiet film, one that mimics the protagonist's state of mind. Packer is part of the 1%, a man so dedicated to empty pleasure and wealth, that he pays almost no attention when he sees riots going on just outside of his car. The same is true of those who visit him, whether it's friend with benefits/art collector Didi (Juliette Binoche), or financial philosopher Vija (Samantha Morton). It's starts off oddly distancing, yet as it progresses, Cosmopolis' tone comes to the foreground, and the performances, appropriately, warm up. The non-1% characters, played by Mathieu Amalric and Paul Giamatti liven the film up considerably, knocking both Eric and the audience out of the stifling stillness of the limo. 


Pattinson, known mostly for the Twilight films, finally has his moment to prove himself, and he acquits himself adequately. At times he seems too hindered by the tone at the start, yet he really does improve as the character gets drawn out of his catatonic state. The show, however, belongs to Giamatti, who delivers a lived-in performance as a man filled with bitterness and philosophical resentment. Just as the movie starts to flag, Giamatti comes in and helps drive Cosmopolis through to its finish. Bolstered by Howard Shore's subtly mixed-in electronic score, there remains a quiet, pulsating energy throughout, although I suspect many will be left completely turned off by the chilliness of the entire enterprise. For those with whom the film actually connects, however, there exists a very good, perhaps not quite great deconstruction of the financial elite, as only David Cronenberg could present it.


Grade: B/B+

Mud dir. Jeff Nichols [Competition]
Thought it feels decidedly broader and more commercial than the incredible Take Shelter (2011), Jeff Nichols' Mud is a touching and effective coming-of-age story that should open the talented director up to a wider art house (and possible mainstream) audience. Set in Mississippi, two young friends, Ellis (Tye Sheridan of The Tree of Life) and Neckbone (Jacob Lofland), discover a fugitive named Mud (Matthew McConaughey) living in their favorite secret hangout. 


The hangout in question is a small boat that has, somehow, wound up lodged in a tree, and the image brings to mind the whimsy of films like Tim Burton's Big Fish, as well as classic stories like "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn." This is a film predominantly focused on one boy's experiences with love and betrayal, and all of the right ingredients are there on paper. What Mud is lacking, however, is a sense of surprise. Nichols feels comfortable with the material, but it doesn't feel like he's really pushing himself. It's good to know he can write this sort of indie crowd pleaser, but also disappointing in terms of how unremarkable (and occasionally repetitive) the plotting is. At 130 minutes, the film certainly isn't dull, but there are times when the nature of the story keeps it from being as taut or compelling as it could be. Then there's the climax, which, though handled well on its own, starts a little too abruptly, and borders on deus ex machina. 


That doesn't mean that there isn't a lot to like about Mud, because there really is. From the opening shots, including some lovely overhead shots of the Mississippi River, the nostalgic (but never sappy) tone comes through beautifully, thanks to Adam Stone's richly textured cinematography and David Wingo's lush, ambient score. The performances also help drive the story. McConaughey turns in his best performance in quite some time, devoid of his usual acting tics. He brings the sort of charming (but not smug) quality to Mud that makes you understand why people would be drawn to him, even if he might have ulterior motives. Reese Witherspoon is solid as well in a small role as the love interest Mud is hoping to reconnect with. Ray McKinnon and Sarah Paulson deliver strong turns as Ellis' parents, even though some of their material is among the weakest (one big fight scene turns uncomfortably on the nose). 


The standout, however, is young Mr. Sheridan, who really carries the film with his presence. He's an inherently watchable, likable screen presence, and Nichols extracts a performance from him that doesn't feel overly mannered or coached. When he finally gets his big moment, an outburst at Mud, he brings it home, cementing himself as a powerhouse. He captures Ellis' journey through romantic and idealistic disappointment with such naturalism, that I think it must be one of the best child performances to grace the screen in some time. For all its imperfections that keep it from greatness, Sheridan is excellent and, above all else, the best reason to stick through Mud all the way through its predictable, yet still touching finale.


Grade: B

Review: "John Carter"

The road to theaters hasn't been easy for John Carter, Disney's big-screen treatment of Edgar Rice Burroughs' classic (ish) fantasy adventure novels. No major stars, reports of a ballooning budget, shifting release dates, and then reports of costly re-shoots all pointed to one conclusion: a massive flop. Now, considering that I'm a little late in seeing the film, directed by Pixar alum Andrew Stanton (Finding Nemo, WALL-E), I can't make predictions. We know that the film has flopped; it's done. So, with that out of the way, we can stop talking about box office, and start talking about the film's artistic merits, of which, outside of its technical categories, there are precious few.

It's a shame too, because only a few months ago another Pixar director, The Incredibles' Brad Bird, made his live-action debut with the extremely fun Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol. Unfortunately, Staton's transition to live-action hasn't been quite as successful, though he's hardly the source of the film's problems...at least as a director. As co-writer, however, he does deserve some of the blame. In adapting Rice Burroughs' story, the sort of fare that seems better suited as a Saturday morning cartoon, Staton, Mark Andrews, and Michael Chabon have crafted a wannabe-epic that is so scattershot and overstuffed, not to mention overly serious, that it nearly collapses in on itself.

Here's the basics: Confederate soldier John Carter (Friday Night Lights' Taylor Kitsch), after finding himself trapped in a cave, somehow finds himself transported to Mars (known by its inhabitants as Barsoom). There, the planet is at war as two humanoid cities, Zodenga and Helium, battle for supremacy. There's also green, four-armed creatures known as Tharks, who both aid and hinder Carter as he tries to piece together where he is and how he got there. Now, the past few sentences have more than a few silly words in them, but through all of it, the actors play it straight. There's a sense of humor missing here that would have made all of it a little more bearable.

Unfortunately, John Carter is so concerned with making itself the next big sci-fi/fantasy franchise, it winds up suffering from throw-everything-at-the-wall-and-see-if-something-sticks-syndrome (that's T.E.A.T.W.A.S.I.S.S.S. for short). It's not too much of a problem for about half of the film's 2 hour duration. Unfortunately, once it hits the last 40 minutes, the narrative goes into Important Incident Overload. There's a wedding, a massive fight in an arena, a massive Thark horde, a big battle, another wedding, and several trips between Earth and Barsoom. It's all so much that none of it carries any weight, and the dramatic shifts that should come as surprises or moments of triumph/despair ring hollow.

The acting doesn't do the film any service. There's nothing particularly wrong with it, but the dramatics all feel phoned in, and the actors can do little to elevate the material considering the take-everything-seriously direction Stanton opted for. Kitsch makes for a perfectly decent hero, and Collins has what it takes to make a kick-ass heroine, even though she's reduced to being saved by Kitsch at least three times in the exact same manner. Other roles, like those played by Dominic West and Mark Strong, have potential to be fun antagonists, but they have even less to work with than the heroes. I don't doubt that the actors involved could have made this a worthwhile journey, but the filmmakers so thoroughly undermine them that there's little they can really do.

Which is an even bigger shame, considering that the film does have one area where it truly shines: the visuals. Despite some borderline campy costume design, Barsoom looks immaculate, whether it's in the dusty desert villages of the Tharks or the halls of Helium. Best of all are the winged airships that come closest to giving John Carter's world something to differentiate itself from, say, Tattooine. The visual effects are also remarkable, whether it's the scenery, the Tharks, or the massive, 6-legged white apes. So much money obviously went to the visuals, and the VFX work is strong enough that it doesn't feel plastic-y or weightless, but that key element of movie-making - the script - is so deeply flawed that even the visuals can't redeem it.

So, is John Carter a true disaster? From a financial perspective, probably. From an artistic perspective, not so much. It's not particularly good (even the actions sequences to little to get the heart racing), and some of the final act borders on train-wreck territory due to the rushed pacing, but it's missing that special spark that would make it a true failure as a film. Uninspired? Yes, visuals aside. Weak characters? Yup. But a worst-of-all-time level failure? Not quite. It's simply that controversies and expectations have played such a big part in how we've come to known John Carter, that it's hard to separate the financial performance from the quality of the filmmaking. That doesn't mean that you need to see it, or that you're missing anything. It just means that big flops don't entirely equal major artistic failings. Sometimes they just mean massively mediocre efforts with little to nothing worth writing home about.

Grade: C