Review: "Certain Women"

Director: Kelly Reichardt
Runtime: 107 minutes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Grade: A-

Review: "The Birth of a Nation"

Director: Nate Parker
Runtime: 110 minutes

President Woodrow Wilson has been (falsely) quoted for decades as describing D.W. Griffith's landmark cinematic epic/paean to white supremacy The Birth of a Nation as being "like writing history with lightning." Regardless of the quote's actual attribution (or total fabrication), or the film's hideous messages, it's hard to fault the line as inaccurate. The film was, on a technical level, a groundbreaking push forward for cinematic techniques, particularly in the editing department. 

Now, roughly a century later, actor-turned-director Nate Parker has admirably set out to rewrite history with lightning. In sharing a title with Griffith's KKK epic, Parker's The Birth of a Nation acts as a historical and cinematic corrective. The story of Nat Turner's bloody slave rebellion is one that hopefully makes Griffith turn in his grave. A shame, then, that such worthy subject matter and contextual significance is spent on an altogether amateurish endeavor. Nat Turner's story and its relation to American race relations is important, but that can only carry a film so far. 

Arriving three years after Steve McQueen's 12 Years a Slave, Parker's film is not without merits, but comes off as pale imitation of bolder, richer narratives about our country's great shame. As is often the case with historical biopics, the protagonist's rougher edges have been sanded down to make him an archetypical hero. The same goes for just about everything else in Birth, which proceeds through a checklist of Signifiers of Slavery on its way to the end of a tepid Great Martyr story.

In fairness, there are times when Birth hits home, whether due merely to its content or the film's tackling of said content. A scene involving a slave being force fed (it involves clearing out some teeth) is harrowing stuff any way you slice it. And there are other moments that speak to broader truths about the silent community that built up among slaves on a plantation. After Nat (Parker, pulling triple duty) is whipped for disobedience, the camera pulls up to reveal that, in the hours since the whipping, the other slaves have put out candles in front of their quarters as a sort of secretive vigil. And, in the film's most impressive moment, the camera pulls back from a close up of a black boy's face to reveal that he's one of six or seven slaves who have been hanged together on a tree in a hauntingly still tableau.

But these are grace notes in a movie that often feels too caught up with its main character (and thus, it's star, director, and writer) to speak to bigger concerns. By casting Turner as a semi-prophetic shepherd of slaves, the actual man's mark on history becomes diminished. When Turner's wife Cherry (How to Get Away with Murder's Aja Naomi King, who's excellent) whispers that hundreds of blacks have been killed in retaliation for Turner's rebellion, it almost feels like an afterthought. Yes, slaveowners exacted terrible vengeance on people, but at least Nat Turner got to have one last conversation with his beloved and then die for our sins. Oh, and to cap it all off, the last thing Turner sees is an angel with classic feathery white wings smiling down at him. Pile on the overeager score (which would be a better fit for a Spielberg-directed historical romance), and the film reveals its lack of finesse. There's a difference between flinging down lightning bolts hoping that something leaves a mark, and wielding them with eloquence.


Grade: C+

Review: "Me and Earl and the Dying Girl"

Director: Alfonso Gomez-Rejon
Runtime: 105 minutes

Me and Earl and the Dying Girl might be THE most Sundance-y/indie/capital-Q "quirky" movie to hit theaters in the past half decade, or even decade. This is not a compliment. It is 105 minutes of the most grating stereotypes of quirky only without the self awareness one would find in a Saturday Night Live skit. The best possible outcome for American independent cinema would be that Earl is the final nail in the coffin for the Quirky Teen Dramedy genre, and not the inspiration for dozens more likeminded films. 

Among the biggest issues plaguing Alfonso Gomez-Rejon's debut feature is that the titular Me is, quite simply, one of the worst protagonists in recent memory. Pittsburgh teenager Greg (Thomas Mann) is an awkward film geek with only one real friend. He also has low self-esteem and constantly rejects compliments about everything from his intelligence to his looks. So even though there's a Dying Girl involved, this is very much Greg's story, and that's a terrible, terrible thing. Greg's self-loathing has little basis, and his repeated mentions of his supposed deficiencies eventually sound less like an esteem problem and more like a ploy for unearned praise. 

Of course, this means that the only thing that can help Greg change is a QUIRKY girl with some ISSUES. Of course, unlike similar films, the Manic Pixie Dream Girl's issue isn't that she's flighty or avoids serious issues. Instead, she has leukemia. Because, as The Fault in Our Stars showed us last year, nothing gets people going like kids going through first love with a nice side of chemo. In fairness, of all the cliched aspects of Me and Earl, the Dying Girl is actually the most genuine part of the film. Rachel (Olivia Cooke) isn't a brave smiling angel. Instead, she's a no nonsense kid who can cut through bullshit when she sees it. She's also got that wise-beyond-her-years vibe that could have been grating but thanks to Cooke feels totally natural. In essence, she's a more emotionally open version of Daria.

And yet even though Rachel is going through...what was it, oh yeah, LEUKEMIA, she gets sidelined in favor of the insufferable Greg and his BFF Earl (RJ Cyler). Except, y'know, since this whole thing is one big QUIRKY (TM) affair Greg won't refer to Earl as his friend. He's his "co-worker." Now, I know that Homer Simpson is not supposed to be a model citizen, but Me and Earl would have been improved significantly had Mr. Simpson sped by in his car and thrown out a drive-by "NEEEEEEEERRRRRDDD!!!" at Greg, and maybe Earl as well.

Earl's problems are a horse (and person) of a different color. Because we're apparently still in the late 90s, Earl is the Black Best Friend. He lives only a short walk from Greg, but in a "rougher" part of town (can you decode the language?). Earl's purpose is basically to stand there and be a emotional sounding board but he's different because, like, he's not white and that's super nifty, but he doesn't need a personality or agency. Hell, South Park's Token Black character has more dimensions. 

But perhaps none of the above would be so troubling (also: infuriating, groan-inducing, etc...) if the script weren't so rotten to the core. Jesse Andrews' adaptation of his own novel is stilted at best. At worst, it's unforgivably manipulative and so forcibly twee that Wes Anderson looks butch by comparison (the film would have benefitted immensely from his touch). As far as heavily contrived dramatic moments go, Me and Earl builds to one that gives the whole of Men, Women, and Children a run for its money. This is also not a good thing.

Gomez-Rejon, an accomplished TV director, at least does his best to inject some energy into Andrews' self-satisfied tale. But the energetic camera work only exacerbates the problems with the script and in Mann's central performance. Greg's self-loathing/thinly-veiled narcissism smother the comedy, and bring hollowness to the drama. Only Cooke is on the right wavelength for her material, but she's often more of an emotional and thematic catalyst than a real character. Rachel deserves to be more than a device to push Greg outside of his comfort zone. But that would require conviction and a willingness to break away from stifling conventions, which Me and Earl and the Poorly Served Dying Girl has precious no time for. Cliches and tropes don't have to be burdens if they're properly managed (and tweaked). Unfortunately, Andrews' story is so in love with sob story expectations that there's never room for Me and Earl to do anything but drown in its own cloying artifice.

Grade: F

Review: "The Skeleton Twins"

Director: Craig Johnson
Runtime: 93 minutes

In their tenure on Saturday Night Live, Bill Hader and Kristen Wiig were two of the show's most consistently exciting, vibrant performers, even when they fell back on reliable characters to generate a laugh. Yet, beyond SNL, the two have also proven themselves capable of finding consistent work on the big screen, although in Hader's case it's mostly meant supporting roles in ensemble comedies. And, ever since Bridesmaids, Wiig has struggled to find a comic or dramatic (or tragicomic) vehicle with a strong enough script to show off some potential hidden range. For those who have been following the two actors since their respective departures from late night, the wait is now over. In Craig Johnson's debut film The Skeleton Twins, Hader and Wiig have finally found roles that play perfectly to their strengths as comedians, while simultaneously allowing them to flex their heretofore unseen dramatic muscles. 

Though pushed mostly as a dark comedy, Twins' opening gets off to a particularly heavy start. In Los Angeles, failed actor Milo (Hader) attempts suicide. Back in New York, dental associate Maggie (Wiig) is just about to swallow a handful of pills, only to be interrupted by a phone call informing her of Milo's near brush with death. Going from coast to coast, Maggie comes to take Milo back home with her for the time being, even though the pair haven't seen or spoken to each other in a decade. 

Once the basic relationships and plot mechanisms are in place, Johnson and co-writer Mark Heyman (Black Swan, of all things) let the rest of Twins unfold in tightly controlled emotional swings. Maggie and Milo's is left to go through long-delayed growing pains on its own, without any overly complicated story elements to get in the way. From a structural point of view, this can leave the shifts in tone feeling a bit abrupt. A truly joyous scene involving lip syncing is followed almost immediately by a setback in the relationship. While the back and forth does a solid job of capturing the touch and go relationship between the siblings, it can make for a somewhat jarring viewing experience (one that makes the slim runtime feel a bit longer than it is). 

At worst, however, all that The Skeleton Twins really needed was a little bit of restructuring. Otherwise, Johnson and Heyman's writing creates an authentic and compelling sibling bond. Their work, highlighted by Johnson's deft, unfussy directing, touches on myriad emotional issues, and never goes too deep or too light in execution. For a film that nearly begins with both protagonists offing themselves, The Skeleton Twins is often quite buoyant, even in its most unpleasant moments. 

The main attraction here, however, is to see Wiig and Hader do something genuinely new as performers, even as they engage in some purely goofy behavior. Their years as SNL co-stars serves them well when it comes to chemistry, as the two are instantly believable as siblings. They joke, tease, bicker, and even explode at each other, and every bit of it rings true. Both faces are so recognizable as those belonging to comedians, yet both are equally capable of communicating frustration, guilt, and sorrow. Wiig is especially impressive as the conflicted Maggie, juggling Milo's arrival along with her goodie two shoes husband Lance (Luke Wilson, charming and low key), with a quiet effortlessness. 

Even at its most grim, The Skeleton Twins retains a vague sense of hope (albeit without an ounce of gooey sentimentality). Johnson isn't afraid to get to some uncomfortable issues, as well as conflicts that don't come to an easy or pleasant resolution. Much like Boyhood (on a much, much smaller scale), Twins is a study of life's messiness at all ages. Its scope may not be as broad, nor its impact as profound, yet it's still a rewarding (and hugely promising) debut with a beating - albeit acid-tinged - heart at its core.

Grade: B/B+

Review: "Fruitvale Station"

Director: Ryan Coogler
Runtime: 85 minutes

At the Q&A session after a screening of Fruitvale Station, director Ryan Coogler said that he felt more connected to characters whose lives unfolded over mere hours, versus characters whose lives take up decades on the big screen. This take on time and character is the driving force behind Coogler's writing and directing debut, which took the top prize at this year's Sundance Film Festival. By keeping his 85-minute film's focus largely on a few hours of his protagonist's life, Coogler achieves an intimacy and power that would have likely been diluted had he tried to expand the scope. Fruitvale Station (originally titled Fruitvale) is more than just a remarkable debut. It's a beautiful film about life and second chances that feels like the work of a socially conscious veteran filmmaker.

Moments of Fruitvale Station may be embellished or even entirely made up, but the film opens with the blunt truth: cell-phone footage of 22 year-old Oscar Grant III (played in the film by Michael B. Jordan), being violently abused, and subsequently shot to death, by police at a train station. The footage is heavily pixelated, but its impact is undeniable. With this key moment out of the way, Coogler then rewinds, and jumps into Grant's life in the hours leading up to that fateful incident on New Year's Day. 

What Coogler accomplishes with his take on Grant's final hours is a deeply human treatment of his subject without turning him into a saint. Even with the inevitability of Grant's death established at the outset, Coogler and his talented cast create an atmosphere that, for all of its narrative ups and downs, is a celebration of life. Jordan, best known for his work on the acclaimed TV series The Wire and Friday Night Lights, delivers a star-making, naturalistic performance as Grant. A young man capable of extreme tenderness and spontaneous rage, Oscar clearly wants to turn his life around (a brief flashback informs us that he was once imprisoned). 

As he suffers both setbacks (his boss' refusal to rehire him at the local supermarket) and minor triumphs (his relationship with his daughter), Coogler avoids the one pitfall that could have sunk his film. Rather than hammer home Oscar's upcoming death at every turn, Fruitvale Station remains life-affirming even when Oscar fails. Take away the story's tragic end, and what remains is a simple (but not simplistic) and effective character portrait, told with smart efficiency. With straightforward camera-work and direction, the film is emotional, without ever becoming cloying. Coogler's script may not go to the absolute depths of Oscar's negative traits, but he still manages to give a sense of fully understanding his complex protagonist.

And even though the film is all about Oscar, Coogler never simplifies the people he interacts with. We may not have quite the same level of interaction with Oscar's girlfriend Sophina (Melonie Diaz), or his mother (Octavia Spencer), but they exist as more than mere sounding boards to show us another angle of Oscar's personality. It's a credit to both Coogler and Diaz that Sophina comes off as a compassionate and understandable character, rather than a stereotypical shrill girlfriend. Sophina rarely cuts Oscar slack, but it comes from a place of tough (at, at times, very frustrated) love, rather than lazy one-note bitchy antagonism.

Yet it's Spencer who nearly runs away with the film in her minimal screen time. In the aforementioned prison flashback, the actress is able to communicate a detailed and textured relationship with her son. The inherent mother-child love is there, but so is the conflict and dismay at some of his decisions. In a film that, out of necessity, is mostly focused on one character, Spencer's vital supporting turn is packed with tiny moments and nuances that elevate it miles above a stock mother character. Compassionate, yet never manipulative or histrionic, Spencer is as much the heart of the film as Oscar.

When it comes to the death of Oscar Grant, issues of race and racial profiling are necessary aspects of the conversation. For Coogler, however, the intent appears to be less about throwing up a middle finger to unjust profiling so much as it is to celebrate the lives of people who, for all of their faults, are trying their hardest to better themselves and make their way in life. Even when the film's recreation of the New Year's Day shooting arrives, Coogler smartly refuses to slip into heavy-handed political sermonizing. As overly aggressive as the train station police officers are, they are never turned into mindless thugs or mustache-twirling villains, even as they remain the guilty party. 

Fruitvale Station clearly has the power to lend some texture to discussions on modern day race and racism, yet the film is mature enough to function completely outside of that realm as well. Whether it's taken as nothing more than a tragic character study, or as a statement on the way snap-judgements and profiling dehumanize certain segments of the population, Coogler's film is a standout debut, one whose Sundance hype appears to have been fully justified. 

Grade: B+

Trailer for Sundance Best Picture Winner "Winter's Bone"

I need to start brushing up on my indie films, because I could have sworn that this was an acclaimed film starring Michelle Williams (turns out that's Blue Valentine). Well, that silly mishap aside, this is quite a chilling little trailer. The whole "character about to lose house so she turns to something desperate" is reminiscent of 2008's Frozen River, although this film is certainly more focused on the thriller aspect. More on this as it arrives, but this just moved up my list of films to see for this summer.

Sundance Film Festival Winners announced

Source: Reuters

PARK CITY, Utah (Reuters) - "Winter's Bone," a stark tale of a young woman trying to keep her family together, and Afghanistan war documentary "Restrepo" won top awards at the Sundance Film Festival on Saturday,

"Winter's Bone" earned two prizes, best drama film by the Sundance jury of industry professionals and screenwriting for co-writer and director Debra Granik at the top U.S. gathering for independent movies.

"Restrepo," which tells of a year in the life of a platoon of U.S. soldiers in Afghanistan, earned the jury prize for best documentary for filmmakers Sebastian Junger (author of "The Perfect Storm") and Tim Hetherington.

"This country's in a very painful moment, we're in the middle of two wars," Junger said on stage, accepting his award. "If our movie can help this country understand how to go forward, we would be incredibly honored by that."

Sundance, backed by Robert Redford's Sundance Institute for film, kicks off the year for movies made outside Hollywood's major studios, and hits here are often among the most-watched in theaters that show low-budget, art and foreign movies.

"Precious: Based on the Novel 'Push' by Sapphire" was a big winner in 2009 and earned critical acclaim and box office success in theaters, and Sundance has helped launch the careers of directors such as Steven Soderbergh and Quentin Tarantino.

While "Winter's Bone" and "Restrepo" took home top honors from the Sundance juries, audiences also get to vote for their favorites at the festival, which ends on January 31.

AUDIENCES AWARDS, WORLD CINEMA

Audiences voted "happythankyoumoreplease" best drama film. From first-time director and actor Josh Radnor, who stars in U.S. television comedy "How I Met Your Mother," it tells of six young New Yorkers dealing with life, love and friendship.

"I think my movie is rebellious," Radnor said on stage, echoing a theme of this year's festival about edgy filmmaking. "It's about people saying 'no' to cynicism and 'yes' to love."

Audiences voted Davis Guggenheim's ("An Inconvenient Truth") documentary, "Waiting for Superman," their favorite non-fiction film. "Superman" is a look at the crumbling U.S. educational system and what can be done to fix it.

U.S. dramatic film directing honors went to Eric Mendelsohn with "3 Backyards," a trio of tales about three people -- a businessman, housewife and young girl -- who find their lives change on a seemingly normal autumn day.

Among documentaries, Leon Gast was named best director for "Smash His Camera," a look at the life and career of paparazzi Ron Galella, and the editing award went to Penelope Falk for "Joan Rivers - A Piece Of Work", a look at the comedienne

Australia's, "Animal Kingdom," was named best dramatic film by the Sundance jury. It tells of an armed robber on the run from a gang of renegade detectives. The audience award for best drama went to "Contracorriente," set in a Peruvian village and tells of a young married fisherman in love with a gay painter.

The jury prize winner for documentary was Denmark's "The Red Chapel," about an unscrupulous journalist, and the audience trophy went to environmental film "Wasteland," backed by filmmakers in the United Kingdom and Brazil, about a Brazilian artist who creates images of people using materials from where they live.

(Reporting by Bob Tourtellotte, Editing by Sandra Maler)

Teaser trailer and clip from "Buried" starring Ryan Reynolds

Movie Trailers - Movies Blog

Movie Trailers - Movies Blog

The teaser is certainly intriguing, but the clip is worrisome. First, why is the coffin so damn big? If there's something bigger going on, then we'll just have to wait and see. The camera work (if all of it is like that) was getting on my nerves a little. 90 minutes of a spinning camera isn't something I want to sit through. The film will premiere at Sundance and has yet to find a distributor. I'm interested to see what the early response is like.

Synopsis: Paul Conroy (Ryan Reynolds) is a U.S. citizen working as a contract driver in Iraq. After a swift and sudden attack on his convoy, he awakens to find himself buried alive inside a coffin with nothing more than a lighter, a cell phone, and little memory of how he ended up there. Faced with limited oxygen and unlimited panic, Paul finds himself in a tension-filled race against time to escape this claustrophobic deathtrap before it’s too late.

Teaser footage/sizzle reel for "The Company Men"

The Company Men from The Company Men on Vimeo.

The description from Sundance:

One of the first casualties of a corporate downsize is Bobby Walker, a hot-shot sales executive who is living the idyllic life—complete with two kids and a mortgaged picket fence. His boss, and founder of the company, doesn’t take Bobby’s severance well, and he storms into the boardroom to demand a reprieve of the severe measures. He learns quickly that some choices are out of his hands, and this is only the beginning. We embark on a journey that is all too familiar in today’s recessionary economy: one that will test friendships, loyalties, and family bonds. John Wells explores the powerlessness of losing one’s job while examining how anger, fear, and forced humility can replace the security of “normal.” The inspired casting of great actors, lending their formidable insight to this timely story, makes The Company Men a tribute to America’s unsung heroes: hard-working men caught in life’s unexpected misfortunes.

Read more: Teaser Trailer: The Company Men | /Film http://www.slashfilm.com/2010/01/12/teaser-trailer-the-company-men/#ixzz0cVe4KqLV