Review: "Out of the Furnace"

Director: Scott Cooper
Runtime: 116 minutes

Grim and brutal with absolutely nowhere to go, Out of the Furnace is a revenge drama lacking depth and purpose. Director Scott Cooper's follow up to 2009's Crazy Heart has some admirable performances, especially from leading man Christian Bale, but it has absolutely nothing to say. There may be important issues present, but they're delved into superficially at best.  

Set in the Rust Belt, Out of the Furnace at least looks right for the part. The mix of handheld camera work and grimy visuals are well suited to the failing steel-mill town where the action takes place. But right from the get go, Cooper's story, co-written with Brad Inglesby, feels like a rough sketch of a plot or a rough draft. This story of brothers Russell (Christian Bale) and Rodney Baze (Casey Affleck) seems desperate to say something about the hard times ailing places like the Rust Belt (in this case, Braddock, Pennsylvania). Early on, Russell sips a beer in a dimly lit bar, while the 2008 Democratic National Convention airs on TV, promising hope and change to an audience that already seems destined to be forgotten. 

Then there's the matter of Rodney, who's struggling to find work when he's on leave from the Army. Despite a stint in prison, Russell is the "good" brother of the two, always taking care of the house and dutifully going to his job at the steel mill. Rodney, meanwhile, falls in with the wrong crowd when gets roped into illegal fights run by the likes of John Petty (a burnt orange Willem Dafoe) and drug dealer Harlan DeGroat (Woody Harrelson). Given DeGroat's fiery temper and violent urges, it's hardly a surprise when things go south, and the film switches from would-be character study to a revenge drama. 

Yet Cooper and Inglesby appear to be under the impression that the choice of setting is enough to inform the characters beyond their basic archetypes. They are wrong. Rather than get in the heads of the characters, Out of the Furnace moves dutifully through the motions, just like Bale's Russell. It does what it needs to do to get from point A to point B, and then it's simple done, with no deeper meaning or gravitas to create a sense of purpose. 

The stacked ensemble, unfortunately, isn't able to do much with the painfully basic material. Bale is an effortlessly compelling leading man, and the first half of the film gives him a few chances to really shine. But in the larger picture, none of it adds up to a substantial sum. Affleck is angry, Zoe Saldana cries, Dafoe wears a heinous turtle neck sweater, and Harrelson is foul and creepy, but there's nothing else going on. The supporting ensemble mostly feel like wasted effort, an even bigger shame considering the talent involved on camera. 

To his credit, Bale holds the whole enterprise together as the protagonist, but any sense of intrigue or mystery to his quest for vengeance is dealt away with from the start. We know everything he can possibly learn in his journey, which makes Out of the Furnace a bit of a slog to sit through. There's nothing hugely objectionable about the film, but there's simply nothing there underneath the grimy photography and hardened faces to justify the film's existence. In a way, it's almost hard to call Out of the Furnace "bad," as its biggest crime is simply that it has absolutely nothing going on outside of its most basic components, all of which have been used to better effect in dozens of other films.

Grade: C/C-

Review: "Seven Psychopaths"

Director: Martin McDonagh
Runtime: 109 minutes

A wild, meandering, and darkly funny ride through LA, Martin McDonagh's Seven Psychopaths may be a lesser film than In Bruges, but it is satisfying on its own terms. Ultimately, the Irish writer/director's second feature film lacks the legitimate pathos and hard-hitting laughs of his 2008 film. However, if Psychopaths is less funny, it is also considerably more interesting from a narrative standpoint. In Bruges took the hit men in hiding concept and executed it with McDonagh's fresh mix of dark comedy and bloody tragedy. Psychopaths, however, starts out as a caper-gone-wrong, yet takes some surprising turns and becomes increasingly meta, with enormously entertaining and unexpected results. 

Marty (Colin Farrell) is a struggling screenwriter in LA, who is trying to put together his next project. It involves seven psychopaths, although Marty has only been able to come up with one. Desperate to help him is his long-time friend Billy (Sam Rockwell). When he's not trying to help (or hinder) Marty's writing or chastising him about his drinking, Billy also runs a dog-napping business with the pacifistic Hans (Christopher Walken). Unfortunately, just as Marty is starting to get his screenplay going, he gets dragged into Billy's shenanigans after Billy steals a dog belonging to a rage-prone mobster (Woody Harrelson). 

But, as the characters later reflect, that's just the beginning. There may be cliches in Seven Psychopaths, but unlike so many other crime films, McDonagh's is self-aware, and never in an obnoxious way. McDonagh's screenplay doesn't afford his characters the same level of hilarious dialogue that In Bruges  did, but there is certainly meaty material for the cast to dig into. Rockwell and Walken fare best, and McDonagh wisely gives both of them plenty of  dialogue to have a blast with. Rockwell is reckless with a twinkle in his eye, and has fleeting moments of sadness and disappointment which the actor skillfully brings to life. And Walken manages to overcome potential typecasting as an eccentric weirdo to deliver an actual performance. Not only is he effective at navigating the comedy and tragedy of McDonagh's script, but his pronunciation of the word "hallucinogens" is worth the price of admission. Like Rockwell's work, Walken is playing an oddity as far as characters go: he's rounded, yet not terribly deep. That description applies to the film as a whole as well, yet somehow it's not a bad trait in this case. 

Yet as broad as the characters are, it's in these two roles (of the main ensemble) that McDonagh is able to inject the hint of something deeper. Seven Psychopaths has the interesting ability to create a sense of drama out of thin air without feeling forced. This is, after all, a crime film, which means there's plenty of bullets fired and lives taken. So even though much of the film is ultimately a rather surface-oriented dark comedy, McDonagh still makes his characters worth caring about, even if we're not deeply invested in them.

Other roles are nicely handled as well, though none really have the meat of Rockwell and Walken's roles. Farrell, as the audience stand-in (and also something of a stand-in for McDonagh), is stuck being an observer for so much that he isn't really given anything to push him. I still think that Farrell and McDonagh make a perfect actor-director pairing, but hopefully their next collaboration (assuming it happens) gives Farrell material more in line with In Bruges to work with. Instead, Farrell probably comes in fourth among the cast (third place to Woody Harrelson's one-note anger/menace). Not far behind are a series of killer cameos and side roles (including a rabbit-toting Tom Waits) who only add to the meta-ness of the enterprise. 

Coming in last, as part of a bit of the film's commentary on gangster movies, are the main female roles, filled out (in form only) by Abbie Cornish and Olga Kurlyenko. Thankfully, In Bruges showed that McDonagh has no aversion to good female characters (hell, even the pregnant hotel manager in In Bruges was good), because he certainly isn't doing his ladies any favors here. McDonagh does acknowledge the point of their limited and empty roles, and he actually prevents the weak female presence from becoming a weird, sexist hindrance (and there is some nice work from female cast members...just not the listed ones). McDonagh is commenting on the weakness of female characters in crime films, and he's smart enough to avoid portraying all women as weak as part of his "commentary." 

Because, above all else, what's on McDonagh's mind isn't so much commentary as a look at story-telling and narrative cleverness. In ways that are too funny and surprising to spoil, Seven Psychopaths is a blood-stained love letter to the creative process, even as it sends up traits of an entire cinematic genre. As previously demonstrated by films like Hot Fuzz, a film that mixes satire and sincerity can often transcend its genre. That's certainly the cast with this film, which rises above being just another crime film by at times refusing to be a crime film at all (or at least delaying inevitable scenes). And it's in these detours that the film becomes the most surprising and engaging. This is a film where one can only guess a character's fate in his or her last minutes (or seconds), but not several acts before. 

And in addition to being well-written, directed, and acted, the production values aren't too shabby either. The cinematography nicely captures the sun-baked Los Angeles vistas, while still allowing for a wide range of colors to exist in the frame. The editing is also a marvel, and it keeps the story flowing with clean, precise cuts that keep even the still scenes on their toes. The lone letdown is, perhaps, Carter Burwell's score. It's appropriately low-key and fits the film perfectly, but unlike Burwell's work on In Bruges, it possesses no moment or theme that allows it to become something more than generically effective. 

What's ultimately most impressive about Seven Psychopaths is how well it succeeds on its own terms. Narrative cleverness takes precedence over character development, but McDonagh never overreaches. The film's impact is lighter than that of In Bruges, both as comedy and tragedy, but there is no feeling of disappointment once the credits roll. This is a film (and script) that is comfortable with itself, and as such, is able to turn its overall lesser quality into a striking advantage. Deeper, richer films are likely in store for us over the coming months. That said, I have no doubt that, at year's end, Seven Psychopaths will stand as one of 2012's cleverest and most satisfying, depth or no depth. 

Grade: B+

Review: "The Hunger Games"

Many young-adult sci-fi/fantasy novels have reached the big screen over the past few years, with none of them ever seeming to catch fire. Whether it was the beautiful but severely uneven The Golden Compass, or the mild hit that was The Spiderwick Chronicles, so many book series have tried to launch franchises and failed. And as much as it pains me to say that The Golden Compass didn't deserve the franchise launch it was aiming for (if only a more gifted director had been at the helm...*sigh*), it does give me pleasure to say that The Hunger Games, Gary Ross' adaptation of Suzanne Collins' mega-hit YA novel, has the right stuff to (as well as solid enough film making) to launch the franchise that its studio clearly has in mind.

For those who haven't read the book, Collins' novel takes place in a post-apocalyptic future of sorts. We don't know many specifics, simply that at some point 12 districts of what was once the United States rebelled against the government. As punishment, the districts annually offer up one boy and one girl - between 12 and 18 - to compete in a savage survival competition known as The Hunger Games, where there can only be one victor. As the story proper begins, it's time for the 74th Hunger Games, where a young woman named Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence) and young man named Peeta Mellark (Josh Hutcherson) are chosen as the tributes from District 12.

And part of what makes The Hunger Games successful is merely Katniss herself. Ross' direction is competent, haunting in spots, but it's his leading lady who must carry the 2 hr 22 minute film, and she most certainly does. She's not surrounded by stylization like recent tough-as-nails young heroines like Kick Ass's Hit Girl or Hanna's titular protagonist, but Katniss still makes her mark, albeit in a more grounded manner. Though there are a few vacant spots in the performance, Lawrence makes a compelling big-budget action film debut, proving she has the skills to be both tough and sympathetic.

This is critical, because even though Ross does any number of things right as director and co-screenwriter, there are also nagging flaws that chip away at the film's armor. I don't quite agree with critics who claim that the film's PG-13 rating has left it sanitized; there's plenty of disturbing content when it comes to teenagers being forced to savagely kill each other without being grotesque or excessive. Where the film makes some missteps is probably more tied to the source material itself, which offers a slightly convenient solution to its otherwise grim story. Granted, the ending of the titular games is thematically appropriate in a sense, given how it uses the story to show the absolute extreme of reality programming and dehumanizing spectacle. At the same time, it feels like an all-too convenient ending to a story that could strengthen itself with a much more dour ending. The film does a wonderful job of setting up the stakes and emotional conflicts that come with the Games in the first hour, but the on-screen exploits are so focused on Katniss (and, to an extent, Peeta), that when it comes to making us feel for other characters, the impact isn't quite what it could be.

On the flip side of the coin, when the film clicks, it really hits home. Some shots of the Capitol, where the rich and privileged reside, are a tad too VFX-laden, yet for the most part they ring true, and avoid feeling like generic upper-class dystopia. The first hour effectively establishes the political side of the games, as the various tributes fight to make an impression and earn favor from the masses watching. And, in the earliest moments of the Games, the violence is appropriately horrifying, without coming off as sensationalized or exploitative. The narrative sags as the Games drag on for over an hour of screen time, however, and the use of an overly shaky camera hinders the power of some of the major confrontations. There's also a surprising amount of grainy footage that throws off the generally sharp and clean look of the images.

So, for all of the strengths on display, The Hunger Games still comes across as an effective, though certainly not revelatory, take on a dehumanizing dystopia. It can feel lightweight when it should really hit home, and moments of cheesiness in the final half hour undermine the narrative's credibility from the earlier portions. Thankfully, Lawrence and the rest of the cast are all compelling on screen, even though few characters get more dimensions since the story completely belongs to Katniss. What's still missing from The Hunger Games' world is a sense of something truly special. The rules of the Games add a unique element to the story, but ultimately it's just a variation on the dystopia genre that doesn't stand out as much as its rabid fanbase would indicate. Harry Potter may have ultimately been a series of boarding school novels set in a hidden, magical world, but J.K. Rowling's details added levels of depth that the novels (and, to varying extents, the films) felt like they really stood in a realm of their own. The Hunger Games may not have wizards or enchantments, but when compared to something like Potter, the missing ingredient becomes obvious in regards to this overall solid piece of work: there's almost no magic to any of it.

Grade: B/B-

Review: "Game Change" [TV]

Though not a theatrical release, HBO's Game Change, an adaptation of Mark Halperin and John Heilemann's novel about the 2008 presidential election, ranks up there with some of the best behind-the-scenes political thrillers. Though some (on sides left and right) will balk at the film's portrayal of political lightning rod Sarah Palin (Julianne Moore), Game Change does, in all honesty, deserve quite a bit of credit for tackling such a highly divisive figure and coming out with effective results.

The film beings with John McCain's (Ed Harris) campaign on a downward slide, and unfortunately this is mirrored in the quality of the opening scenes. As a whole, Danny Strong's screenplay is quick and sharp, but before Sarah Palin's introduction into the mix, Game Change feels slightly off, and at times weirdly on the nose (particularly in a scene where McCain's advisors inform him of the need for a "game changer"). Yet once Julianne Moore's Palin picks up her cell at an amusement park and says, "This is Sarah..." Game Change does a complete 180. Palin herself had plenty of incredible highs and shocking lows during the '08 campaign, but Jay Roach's film captures the good and the bad with a fierce intelligence.

And even though Tina Fey has already created her own landmark portrayal of the former VP hopeful, Moore's performance is richer by virtue of not being a parody. Palin certainly isn't lionized, and there are times when she is drawn as an expert of image maneuvering, but she isn't thrown under the bus for the campaign's loss, nor is she portrayed as a villain. Whether Palin is eagerly taking down notes, or slouched in a chair in a catatonic stupor, Moore keeps the portrayal grounded, never once veering into broad-strokes territory. Yes, she has her vocal tics, accent, and even her walk down, but thanks to Moore's commitment to the turn and the sharp script, the surface details don't end up controlling the performance. What the film does best, with the benefits being tremendous, is present Palin with as many facets as it can, all underlined by one crucial idea: regardless of her intentions, or her ability to function as a political celebrity, she was simply not prepared for the chaos of the national stage.

'Stage' is a particularly appropriate word, because in fits in with the film's larger idea, one that's bigger than McCain, Palin, and Obama combined: the transformation of the politics - specifically, elections - in the age of social media and the 24 hour news cycle. As Palin becomes more prominent, McCain all but vanishes as the campaign's focal point. Palin is the GOP's Obama, an appealing politician who has the energy to also function as a celebrity. This notion plays out beautifully over the film's 2 hour run time, namely in scenes involving campaign manager Steve Schmidt, and senior campaign advisor Nicolle Wallace (Woody Harrelson and Sarah Paulson, both excellent).

Yet what Game Change ultimately does best, which is high praise considering the strong individual pieces, is recreate the twists, turns, and thrills of the 2008 election, although here it's been condensed into 2 hours, and not painfully dragged out over 3 months with endless coverage. In fact, Roach's film almost makes the race more exciting, because of all of the glimpses, some developed, some fleeting, we are afforded of the campaign's behind-the-scenes activities. Occasionally it becomes overwritten - listening to characters issue commentary while Palin delivers her famed RNC address disrupts the flow somewhat - but on the whole it's a riveting piece of political story-telling that, thanks to its real-life basis, avoids sensationalism. Every once and a while, I thought Roach and company were about to take things into the full-on thriller genre, but nothing ever materialized. There is no Chekhov's gun, and the script feels no need to contrive one. There was never an intention of making this a thriller, rather, Game Change's story is simply thrilling in its own right: thrilling written, thrillingly acted, and thrillingly constructed, even though it's ultimately just a string of conversations among a group of conflicted individuals.

Grade: B+

Quick thoughts on "The Messenger" (2009)

- Despite possessing a sense of objectivity, the first half hour is particularly powerful, albeit quite uncomfortable.

- Ben Foster and Woody Harrelson are both excellent, and Harrelson firmly deserved that Oscar nomination.

- Surprisingly, the highlight of the film is the segment involving Steve Buscemi as an angry, grieving father.

- Unfortunately, with a story built initially on episodes, Oren Moverman's script meanders a bit in the latter portions when it starts to deviate from the formula, and at about the 1 hr 20 min mark, it starts to drag.

Grade: B