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: "The Nymphomaniac - Part 2"

Director: Lars von Trier
Runtime: 118 minutes

By the time Part 2 of The Nymphomaniac comes to its bleakly humorous conclusion, one thing has become clear: despite the split release of Parts 1 and 2, this is truly one film. Von Trier doesn't bother with set up or introduction at the start of Part 2, which only further cements the idea that it should have, somehow, been released as a single 4 hour film. Taken as separate entities, however, it's clear that Part 2 is where The Nymphomaniac really comes together. With Charlotte Gainsbourg finally doing more than narrating, The Nymphomaniac gets a whole new life, and comes closest to achieving the sort of epic sexual saga that von Trier was striving towards.

This is, in large part, due to Part 2's descent into much darker territory. This was first hinted at in the final shot of Part 1, when young Joe (Stacy Martin) loses all sexual sensation. From this point on, we see Joe transform not only into her older self, but also into a woman caught up in the destructive side of her sexuality. In the confines of young adulthood, Joe was able to experiment without significant consequence. Now a grown woman, she's finally starting to feel the weight of expectations and social mores closing in on her. 

Joe initially wilts, but soon pulls herself together and starts using her sexuality to lash out against what she views as prudish bourgeois morality trying to shame her. Even so, her newfound sexual outlets aren't without their costs. At the start, Joe had a whole world open to exploration. Now she's finally run out of territory, and there's really something at stake for her. It's this significant shift that von Trier handles best in Part 2, and it's the reason why, even in isolation, Part 2 has the heft that Part 1 lacked.

In fairness, part of the credit is simply due to Gainsbourg appearing on screen in the flashbacks. Ms. Martin was quite effective in Part 1, but the disparity between narrator and protagonist proved something of an odd barrier to surmount. With past and present now inhabited by the same woman, The Nymphomaniac becomes a much richer work. Gainsbourg, relegated to passive narration in Part 1, finally has room to actually give life to Joe's journey beyond reciting it. Once again, Gainsbourg's gifts are an ideal match for von Trier's material, even if she never reaches the heights of her performance in Melancholia. 

The supporting cast, meanwhile, remains rather one dimensional, despite the increased number of recognizable faces. Joe leads a lonely life, and the film reflects this by not really delving into the backgrounds of other characters. The lone exception is P (Mia Goth), who Joe unwillingly takes on as a protege after getting involved with a seedy businessman (Willem Dafoe). Though P comes into play in, as Joe describes it, a remarkable coincidence, it nonetheless helps The Nymphomaniac come full circle in a deeply unsettling way. Even when doing her best to care for another life, Joe is still pitted against P in surprising ways. Their relationship is a microcosm of how parts of society treat women, never allowing them to be more than just friends. There must always be competition either in service of men or for the pleasure of men. 

With its noticeable stakes and sense of danger, Part 2 serves as a fitting conclusion to von Trier's would-be opus. Though at times unwieldy in its dialogue, (though less so than in Part 1), Part 2 is where Joe becomes more than someone to follow; she becomes someone to be invested in. After so much build up, Part 2 is where The Nymphomaniac feels more in tune with its characters than with its concepts and ideas. Taken as a whole, The Nymphomaniac is certainly a compelling portrait of a woman's sexual journey, but only it Part 2 does that journey fully come to life. 

Grade: B+

Review: "The Nymphomaniac - Part 1"

Director: Lars von Trier
Runtime: 118 minutes

Before the release of Blue Valentine in 2010, the film was caught up in a ratings controversy after being slapped with the dreaded NC-17 marker. The given reason? Footage of Michelle Williams' character receiving and, *gasp* enjoying oral sex (never mind that it's possible to earn a PG-13 with male character receiving fellatio, albeit not too graphically). The film was, thanks to pushing from Harvey Weinstein (see, he is capable of good deeds!), downgraded to an R, thus removing the snickering connotation that the film was somehow pornographic. Sadly, issues of female sexual pleasure remain a thorny issue, often prompting overly sensitive, and sometimes backwards responses despite the leeway granted for men on film.

Now, barely four years later, Danish director Lars Von Trier is back with a four hour, two part film that might as well be a massive middle finger to the sorts unable to believe in a woman's capability for independent sexual pleasure. Premiering in a staggered format (a VOD release, followed within weeks by a limited theatrical run), only the first half of The Nymphomaniac is currently available in the United States. Though I suspect it might be difficult to fully assess the film without seeing both halves, this review will try its best to tackle Part 1 as its own entity (much in the vein of the separately released volumes of Tarantino's Kill Bill). 

Rarely one to coddle audiences with style or content, Von Trier's latest begins with a near silent montage of falling rain and snow, before a blaring grunge rock track tears through the soundscape. Von Trier is known for using cinematic techniques to put the viewer ever so slightly on edge (ie: the constant jump cuts in Dogville), and Nymphomaniac wastes no time in announcing that it will be no different. Whether the techniques work in service of the story is another matter, one that is harder to assess without the full film available. 

What is available is the progressively intriguing, albeit slightly stodgy, tale of Joe (Charlotte Gainsbourg, in her third von Trier film), as related to Seligman (Stellan Skarsgard), the man who finds her beaten and unconscious in the street. Where Joe's life is built around only one pursuit, Seligman's is filled with many (fly fishing, poetry, history, etc...). As such, he takes interest in hearing Joe's story, and spends much of Part 1 commenting on the literal and metaphorical parallels between Joe's life and his own interests. 

It's a clever idea, even when von Trier's screenplay stumbles. Seligman's comparisons, more analytical and flowery than Joe's recounting, contain interesting references, yet some of von Trier's dialogue is a bit too stiff, and too academic. This is only reinforced by the grungy look of the whole production, keeping in line with the director's tendency towards minimalism in terms of design and visual variety. Thankfully Mr. Skarsgard, another frequent von Trier collaborator, is talented enough to soften the blow of some of the more stilted passages. 

Gainsbourg, on the other hand, is set aside, despite being the primary storyteller. Part 1 is concerned with Joe as a young adult (played by Stacy Martin), which means that Gainsbourg spends a lot of time merely narrating. As Melancholia and Antichrist showcased, the actress is more than up to the task. That's why it's frustrating to see the actress sidelined in a film that is all about her character. Martin is effective enough, but knowing that we'll eventually get to see Gainsbourg on screen in the flashbacks makes her part of the story feel more like a necessary hurdle to overcome. 

The supporting ensemble, meanwhile, are mostly adequate, with a few exceptions. Christian Slater gets the job done as Joe's caring father, while Connie Nielsen silently glowers as his distant wife. Joe's never-ending parade of lovers (clients?), are played mostly by unknowns, which is for the best. It's her story, after all, and focusing too heavily on the men would distract from the central, female journey. Unfortunately, the one lover (so far) played by a name is Jerome, who has the misfortune of being inhabited by Shia LaBeouf. While not a disastrous performance, LaBeouf's work lacks the spark or magnetism required, seeing as Jerome is something of an object of fascination for Joe. 

On the other hand, Uma Thurman nearly steals the whole movie as the abandoned wife of one of Joe's clients. Thurman's screen time likely amounts to less than 10 minutes, but she adds a much needed jolt to the proceedings, which at the point have started to drag a little. With Gainsbourg and Skarsgard increasingly removed as Part 1 progresses, it's not too surprising that Thurman is able to swoop in and run away with the show. The worst part of the performance is that it's so brief, and that the actress is unlikely to reappear in Part 2 (which arrives April). 

The Thurman sequence aside, Part 1's strongest moments tend to come from the scenes detailing Joe's methods and ideas about sex and love. Despite her love of an act of pleasure, her interests stem from a more detached view. Sometimes she uses it to hurt men, other times to trick or manipulate them. It's underscored with von Trier's offbeat, dark humor, which keeps the whole enterprise from drowning in pretension (in some cases just barely). The Nymphomaniac's script does need a bit of smoothing out, but the parts that work instill hope that Part 2 will be richer and more emotionally involving. Von Trier also deserves credit for turning down the shock value elements. 

Rather than sensationalize female pleasure, he captures it as something totally natural, which is probably Part 1's biggest triumph. All that remains to be seen is if he can better synthesize his academic and thematic ideas with his storytelling. That's what will ultimately make or break this sex-driven tale as it continues to be both mundane and bold with startling ease. At last, Denmark's enfant terrible is finally starting to grow up.

Grade: B

Review: "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo"

When it was announced that Tomas Alfredson's vampire tale Let the Right One In (2008) would receive an English language remake, cinephiles were left scratching their heads. Alfredson's Swedish film was an outstanding entry in the vampire genre, one filled with memorable sequences and images, and a climax that left many shuddering in their seats. So even though Matt Reeves' remake (titled Let Me In) was generally well-received, the question still remained: how is the remake justified other than as a means to get money out of those audience members with a fear of subtitles? At the end of the day, there really wasn't. Mr. Reeves' film is not a bad; it's actually nicely done. The only problem is that it feels redundant, as though Alfredson's excellent take was being pushed aside after not even being given proper recognition. The question remains, then, is there ever a time when an English-language remake or re-adaptation is actually worth more than a few extra dollars? In the case of David Fincher's The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, the answer is a resounding 'yes'.

The film, a re-adaptation of the first installment of Stieg Larrson's hugely successful crime trilogy, isn't based off of anything remarkable. Though the trilogy does paint an intriguing picture of a highly corrupt Sweden, it also suffered its share of flaws that kept it from rising above rather pedestrian levels. The one aspect the stories have always had going for them, the real draw, comes down to one character: bisexual punk-hacker Lisbeth Salander. Previously embodied by Noomi Rapace, the role is now brought to life by Rooney Mara, who made her mark last year in the opening scene of Fincher's The Social Network. The question, then, was whether she would be able to move from that bit part to a leading role, and she has. Her stoic, steely gazes never grow repetitive or lazy, even though there's not as much meaning behind them as the story (or the series' die hard fans) would like us to believe. Mara is prettier and more delicate in appearance than Rapace, but this only makes her more effective when she unleashes her rage. She is, like just about everything else in this version of the story, superior to the Swedish counterpart, even if the character remains little more than a very cool idea.

For, like Mara's performance, Dragon Tattoo's story and characters are not exactly filled with great depth. Remove Lisbeth from the equation, and you have the potential to end up with little more than CSI: Stockholm. Thankfully, with the script from Steven Zaillian and under David Fincher's direction, the story reaches what is likely its best iteration possible. After a very brief opening scene, the film plunges us into a three minute credits sequence set to Karen O and Trent Reznor's cover of "Immigrant Song," filled with constantly shifting, inky images. It's dark, grungy, and weird, and it gets the film off on the right foot, even if the film itself never quite reaches the same high. It's telling, then, that the film's best moment comes straight from Fincher's mind, and not the source material. That said, in returning to the serial killer/crime genre (previously: Se7en, Zodiac), Fincher's meticulous gifts have elevated Larrson's story and characters as much as he can, all while making the whole affair come across as infinitely more cinematic than any of the Swedish versions.

A good deal of this has to do with Fincher's outstanding team of collaborators. First and foremost is cinematographer Jeff Cronenweth, who lights and colors the scenes in a way that makes the slightly washed-out nature of the digital photography still feel rich, as opposed to drained. Scoring duo Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross (who picked up the Original Score Oscar for The Social Network) return as well. Originally stating that they would try a more traditional, orchestral score, it's clear that the pair changed their minds later. Their music, more than fitting for the style, is filled with strange and ominous electronic sounds that only make the film, even in its more mundane moments, feel absorbing. How well individual pieces will hold up on their own is questionable, but when it comes to working with the images, it's just about flawless work. There's also the editing duo of Kirk Baxter and Angus Wall, who picked up the Best Editing Oscar for The Social Network, who help piece the film together beautifully, accentuating Fincher's more fluid pacing. These three elements come together beautifully in a near-wordless stretch where Lisbeth and Mikael, in different locations, finally realize who the hidden villain of the mystery is. So even though a great deal of the plot is burdened with exposition, scenes like this help restore a sense of story telling order.

One of the story's biggest hurdles is that it keeps Mara's Lisbeth and Daniel Craig's Mikael Blomqvist apart for such a long time. Here, however, the pair's time apart, though still a little too long, feels more purposeful and elegantly composed. Zaillian's script also makes the smart decision to show Lisbeth doing some research on an enemy of Blomqvist's before they even meet. It ties in nicely to how the script has changed the ending, and prevents the resolution of that subplot from feeling like a really cheap form of deus ex machina. Additionally, Zaillian's script makes changes to the two leading characters, both of which work for the better. Lisbeth, while still cold and reserved, has the occasional flash of vulnerability, which adds a shade or two of characterization missing from the Swedish film, even though it's nothing remarkable. More impressive is how Zaillian has handled Blomqvist. In both the books and the Swedish films, the character has stood out as a painfully obvious author-insert (Larrson himself was something of a crusading journalist/womanizer). This version of Blomqvist, despite sleeping with two women over the course of the story, still feels more fitting for the story. In making Mikael less of a ladies man while casting the much more charismatic Daniel Craig (although just about anyone would have been better than Mikael Nyqvist) in the role, the character finally achieves the right balance. Other roles, filled out by Christopher Plummer, Stellan Skarsgaard, Geraldine James, and Joely Richardson, are all nicely handled, even when considering their relatively limited screen time.

The biggest problem, as stated before, is simply the source material. Zaillian's alteration to the ending allows for resolution and adds a different angle to Lisbeth and Mikael's relationship that can be explored for the sequels (Fincher will likely direct the second and third films back-to-back, at a still-undecided time). A pity, then, that he didn't have the courage to depart further from the source material still. Had Zaillian, under Fincher's guidance, taken the characters and overarching plot, but completely reworked the scene-by-scene story, we could have had a truly brilliant entry in the cinematic crime genre. What we're left with however, is still worthy of admiration. The cast is game, the direction beautiful, and the artistic and technical aspects flawless. And most importantly, the film, through its differences in narrative and in style, feels justified. I'm not going to deny that making an English-language version of the film was a cash grab. It absolutely was. Thankfully, this is one cash grab that, despite its limitations, rises above its origins to the point where it deserves to become the definitive version of this story through level after level of icy Scandinavian hell. In Fincher (and Mara, and Craig, etc...) We Trust.

Grade: B/B+