Review: "Welcome to Me"

Director: Shira Piven
Runtime: 88 minutes

Despite a fun set-up, Shira Piven's Welcome to Me is so totally linked to its central performance that it has little room to accomplish much else. Thankfully, star Kristen Wiig, in the latest of a recent string of indie releases, owns this offbeat dramedy from top to bottom. Piven's trim character study is so intensely focused on Wiig's Alice Klieg that there's little breathing room for anyone else. In fact, there's so little to be found in Welcome to Me outside of Wiig's performance, that the film often feels like nothing more than a performance showcase. Wiig offers some stellar comedic and dramatic acting, but the script's character-based tunnel vision prevents the project as a whole from being more than a gently moving trifle. 

Like any normal person, Alice is stunned when she wins the local lottery of $86 million. Yet once we get a look at Alice's cramped apartment, it's clear that she's far from your average American struggling to get by (and hoping for a miracle). Not only is Alice bi-polar, she's also messing around with the meds prescribed by her doctor (Tim Robbins). An Oprah-worshipping shut-in, Alice decides that there's only one thing she really wants to use her new fortune for: a talk show built around herself. Understandably, she's met with incredulous looks when she proposes the idea to the staff of the local TV station (Joan Cusack, Jennifer Jason Leigh). The lone exception is Rich (James Marsden), the money-hungry head of the station, who gladly accepts check after check from Alice while his guilt-ridden brother/TV host Gabe (Wes Bentley) watches. 

Outside of the character-based elements, Welcome to Me's second priority is clearly the way society portrays (and/or exploits) those with mental illnesses. Yet Eliot Laurence's tight (almost too tight) script never branches out further than the basic idea that such exploitation A) exists and B) isn't very nice. Especially given the recent treatment of celebrities with mental illness, these themes couldn't be more ripe for exploration. If the world of Network predicted the rise of sadomasochistic, morally uncomfortable TV content, then Welcome to Me simply drops us into that world long after the prophecy has come to pass.

Whether or not you find this to be a major issue will likely come down to how you respond to Alice and Wiig's performance. Even with the aforementioned themes present, Alice is Laurence and Piven's #1 priority by a gigantic margin. And, on that subject, the film more than gets the job done. Laurence has created a true original of a character, one who is never defined strictly by her diagnosis. And Wiig, who's been stretching her acting muscles recently, does some really wonderful work here that continues to prove her worth as convincing actress, regardless of genre. 

The most obvious challenge with a film like Welcome to Me comes down to tone, and Piven's capturing of Laurence's writing is part of what keeps one involved with this increasingly sad character study. Wiig, meanwhile, has to contain the film's variations in tone without coming across as forced, and she does so beautifully. Funny, heartbreaking, and weird, it's a performance that feels truly human, and not like a checklist of mental health symptoms. 

Other characters may not get anywhere near the depth afforded to Alice, but Piven's film is filled with small gems from the talented ensemble. Bentley and Marsden are perfectly matched as the polar opposite brothers, the former of whom eventually earns Alice's romantic attention. Bentley's character is the most similar to Alice, and where others watch confusion and embarrassment, he watches with great empathy. Cusack is good for a handful of exasperated reaction shots, as is Leigh (though the latter's role is basically pointless). 

The most meaningful supporting performance comes from Linda Cardellini as Alice's best friend Gina. Of all of the relationships featured in Welcome to Me, this is the one that would have been worthy of a few extra scenes. Though Alice has her own problems, she can be obsessed with herself to the point where she drives others away. This dynamic comes through the clearest with Gina, though some of the finale's impact is undercut by Gina's marginalization throughout the story. With more focus on the Gina/Alice dynamic, which goes back to their childhoods, more of Welcome to Me could have truly lingered. Instead, it's only Alice who really stays with you. Not surprising, as it's probably what she would've wanted. 

Grade: B-

Review: "Avengers: Age of Ultron"

Director: Joss Whedon
Runtime: 141 minutes

"This doesn't make any sense," remarks Hawkeye (Jeremy Renner) to Scarlett Witch (Elizabeth Olsen) during the climax of Avengers: Age of Ultron. But whether or not it makes sense shouldn't matter. What matters is whether or not enough of this is engaging at all. When Joss Whedon assembled the Avengers for the first time in 2012, he reinvigorated Marvel's cinematic universe. Yet now, at the end of Phase II of Marvel's master plan, Whedon has let quite a bit of wind out of the sails. 

Solo adventures for Captain America (Chris Evans) have been the most recent standalone films before both Avengers films. Yet after Captain America: The First Avenger, Marvel was looking a bit weary post-Iron Man. Going into Avengers 2, Whedon is picking up after last year's shockingly good Captain America: The Winter Soldier, which has understandably set expectations higher. And this time, earth's mightiest heroes merely sharing the screen just isn't enough. Rather than close out Phase II with a brilliant end, Age of Ultron comes across as an extended denouement. 

When Age of Ultron opens, we're witnessing the end of the insidious Hydra organization. Once the Avengers dismantle the group's last fortress in eastern Europe, they start looking forward to a world at something resembling peace. Eager to make this dream into a reality, Iron Man/Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr.) expands his Ultron program, a team of cyber soldiers designed to act as a shield for the planet, as well as an agent of peace on the ground. Things go south, however, when Stark's technological meddling creates genuine AI, which takes on the form of an android (James Spader) who claims the Ultron name for himself. With the corrupted AI on the loose, the next step is inevitable: the rise of the machines. Well, it would be inevitable if there was even an ounce of tension present on screen.

A good villain is a terrible thing to waste, but that's exactly what Age of Ultron does. Spader does a wonderful job of voicing (and providing motion capture work) Ultron, but the hulking metallic fiend registers only as powerful, but never threatening. Ultron's strength grows, but the danger he poses is stagnant. At every turn, the Avengers stop Ultron to some degree. Ultron never leaves our heroes broken. He simply runs away to plot his next move. With Ultron's seemingly limitless technological capabilities, the world's machinery should be turning on the Avengers. Instead, it most plays the neutral card, and Iron Man and co. go on their merry way chasing the demon robot across the globe.

The featherlight plotting wouldn't feel like such a weakness had Whedon been able to better sort out his cast. By now, Stark's snark is played out, and Thor (Chris Hemsworth) and the Hulk (Mark Ruffalo) have settled into solid supporting roles. Despite his bland, all-American boy scout attitude, Evans' Captain America has emerged as the most reliably engaging lead from the franchise. When paired with Scarlett Johansson's Black Widow, it becomes all too clear who really deserves to be at the head of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. 

And then there's Renner's Hawkeye, who has always felt like the sixth wheel of the ensemble. Whedon tries to change that by taking us behind the character's mysterious black-ops facade, but what comes to light only makes him blander. Compare this with the frustratingly-brief peeks at Black Widow's upbringing, and Age of Ultron's priorities only seem more out of whack. As for super-powered twins Scarlett Witch and Quicksilver (Olsen and Aaron-Taylor Johnson), the former is wasted in a potentially cool role, while the latter barely holds a candle to Evan Peters' perfectly-utilized take on the same character in X-Men: Days of Future Past.

So even though the number of plates that Whedon has spinning is impressive, watching this act again is starting to grow old. Just when Marvel seemed ready to move forward, Age of Ultron falls back into old habits. Spending time with these characters still has its pleasures, but this super-sized super-hero flick is, sadly, as bland as many of the standalone films in the series that paved the way. It's a dandelion of a blockbuster; with just the tiniest breeze, it all scatters to the wind with little consequence or merit. 

Grade: C+

Review: "White God"

Director: Kornel Mundruczo
Runtime: 121 minutes

Dogs may be man's best friend, but that doesn't mean they're without limits. Push our canine comrades too far, and you may just incite a revolution. That's the case with Hungarian director Kornel Mundruczo lays out in this gritty, R-rated fable of abuse and righteous animal fury. Though at times hindered by an unshapely middle, Mundruczo's latest (which has been pulling in the accolades since last year's Cannes) still packs the technical skill and storytelling urgency required to help his premise click.

After the eerie opening, in which Lili (Zsofia Psotta) rides through a deserted Budapest, White God rewinds to trace the acts that led to such a ghostly transformation. When Lili is left with her stern father Daniel (Sandor Zsoter), she clashes with him about third, furry member of the household: Lili's mutt Hagen. Lili's bond with Hagen is strong, so it's time for the world to put a strain on it. After one too many mishaps involving the mutt, Daniel abandons the dog by a river bank. What follows is a quest for reunion, but if you're expecting a European take on Homeward Bound, you'll want to brace yourself. By the time the film returns to the opening shots, you might find yourself wishing that the deserted city was going up in flames.

Working with animals is rarely easy. Working with over 100 of them is probably a nightmare. Yet what Mundruczo pulls off with White God is frequently astounding. The camera often jumps down to Hagen's eye line, and long stretches pass with barely any human languages heard at all. Hagen (and the dogs he meets during his journey) are a solid bunch of performers, often outdoing their human counterparts. Thanks to sharp editing, White God is able to string together images that, with only a few barks and tilts of the head, convey entire conversations among a canine cast that often fills the frame by the dozen.

Hagen's Homeric journey is so gripping on its own, that there's often a tinge of disappointment any time the film returns to Lili and Daniel. Though Zsoter is solid as the domineering (but not unreasonable) father, Psotta doesn't bring much dimensionality to Lili. Nearly every scene is played at the same level, so whether Lili is acting up in school or crying out for her dog, Psotta's performance never shows variation. Mundruczo keeps the tone of the film cool-headed, but the human angle of the story still comes off as a missed opportunity to really deepen the film's impact on multiple levels.

In jumping between Hagen and Lili, White God does get a little padded in the middle. Mundruczo's execution of Hagen's trials hits hard, whether you're a dog lover or not. Some scenes are squirm-worthy (a "training" sequence involving a seedy new owner), while others are downright brutal). Hagen's scenes have enough storytelling momentum on their own, and the frequent jumps to the humans, though never bad, simply feel like wheel-spinning. 

Yet everything falls back into place just as White God gallops towards its finale. The collision of the human and animal worlds, without the aid of any special effects, is a stunner. With all of the build-up finished, Mundruczo finally lets loose, and he delivers quite a show without betraying his work's intentions and themes. And even though White God never really evolves past its indictment of animal cruelty, the film never grows redundant, even when the pacing falters. Though not quite as lean as its canine hero, White God is an exciting, vibrant work that gives an unlikely group of disaffected subjects some long-overdue cinematic justice.

Grade: B+

Review: "Ex Machina"

Director: Alex Garland
Runtime: 110 minutes

Though more successful as an acting showcase and atmospheric exercise than as a thought-provoking drama, Ex Machina nonetheless represents a promising directorial debut for screenwriter Alex Garland (28 Days Later, Sunshine). Though Garland's efforts as a writer have previously been met with criticism for their finales, Ex Machina suffers instead from a mid-section in need of further development. Even so, this sci-fi drama is never less than engaging, thanks to a trio of strong performances and a polished aesthetic. 

Young programmer Caleb (Domhnall Gleeson) finds his modest life turned upside-down when he learns that he's won a contest at his company, an internet search engine that has apparently toppled Google (this is your first clue that you're watching science fiction). He'll get to leave his sleek Manhattan office and cramped apartment for a week to visit the estate of Nathan (Oscar Isaac), the company's brilliant and reclusive founder. Upon arriving at the rural estate (shot in Norway, though in the story it's never clear), Caleb finally learns the purpose of the trip. He has been chosen to perform the Turing Test on Nathan's android, to determine whether the machine possesses actual AI. That machine is named Ava (Alicia Vikander), and from "her" first appearance Caleb is entranced. At this point, he likely doubles for the audience.

Garland structures the film by interjecting title cards (Session 1, Session 2, etc...) not only to track the passage of time, but to slowly turn Caleb's journey from one of awe to one of queasy uncertainty. Though Caleb and Ava's first sessions are routine (well, as routine as groundbreaking human/robot interactions are...), a power outage changes everything. With the closed-circuit cameras down (and the facility on lockdown), Ava informs Caleb that Nathan is not to be trusted. Then the lights and cameras go back up and the two carry on as if nothing has happened. 

Where Ex Machina stops short of truly reaching for greatness is that Garland doesn't nurture Ava's revelation to create something more complex. There are hints of malice and deception, but a more urgent sense of conflict never arrives. Caught between making a straightforward mystery and a richer, thornier character piece, Garland choses the former path. So it's a good thing that the relative lack of adventure in the writing is handled well on all fronts. Even when Ex Machina reveals that it's not committing to going the extra mile with its premise, it remains a satisfying piece of sci-fi drama. 

This is largely due to the wide range of strong work from Gleeson, Isaac, and Vikander. All three roles are wildly different, and the script knows how to play them all off of each other. Isaac is the most enjoyable of the lot, creating a tech genius who's part Steve Jobs, and part frat-boy jackass. With his true intentions shrouded in ambiguity, Isaac has the juiciest role, and he makes it count (he also gets a hilarious dance sequence that I desperately wish could have been longer). Gleeson is ideally cast as well, making for a solid everyman finally getting a taste of what it's like to participate in something meaningful. Vikander, who had a much different relationship with Mr. Gleeson in Anna Karenina, is every bit as good as her male co-stars, working quiet wonders with a role that could have been stifling.

As mentioned above, technical aspects are strong across the board. Rob Hardy's photography richly captures the contrasting sides of the settings (half ultra-sleek modern, half woodsy forrest retreat), seamlessly blending actual locations and sets together to create a cohesive setting. Ben Salisbury and Geoff Barrow's electronic score is an essential part of drawing one into the scenario, sometimes relying on nothing more than a single repeated note to signal a shift in mood. And despite the lack of larger-than-life science fiction elements in Ex Machina, the sound team deserves significant praise for the subtle work put into everything from Nathan's house to the little whirrs and blips that emit from Ava's internal machinery. Even in small-scale sci-fi, it's the technical details that can make or break one's investment in a narrative, and Mr. Garland's collaborators have done a marvelous job without distracting from the story.

Ex Machina's short-comings explain why it doesn't deserve to be ranked among the best of the sci-fi genre, but they're also unobtrusive. There's little that disrupts one's engagement with the plot and with these characters. Ex Machina doesn't make major mistakes with its storytelling, but rather with the nature of its substance. To call Garland's film a noble failure is too harsh a judgement. It's not that Garland fails with his debut, but that from early on he makes the decision to opt for palatable ideas and themes rather than truly challenging ones. 

Grade: B

Review: "It Follows"

Director: David Robert Mitchell
Runtime: 100 minutes

The opening shot of David Robert Mitchell's It Follows is simple in execution, but immensely demonstrative of what makes this moody horror piece work so well. A pretty teenage girl, the sort we expect to see run and scream and die in these sorts of stories, runs up and down her street, alarming her neighbors and her parents. After retreating to the sanctuary of her home, she sprints back out and takes off in her car. The camera is still, merely panning left and right to follow her movements. No one is chasing her. The suburban street couldn't be more tranquil, aside from one teenager's inexplicable freakout. And yet the shot, which is not the last we see of this girl, is increasingly unnerving. Without a flash of gore or an obvious antagonist on screen, the first two minutes of It Follows are more tense than some horror movies are in their entire duration. And there's still 98 minutes left.

Too often, horror films mistake visual and stylistic chaos as a means of creating either scares or sustained sequences of dread. Mr. Mitchell, however, has crafted a film that at once feels like a throwback (a la The Guest) and a step forward. In a sense, you've seen It Follows, with its screaming teens not always making the smartest decisions for their survival. Yet, simultaneously, you likely haven't seen anything quite like how It Follows twists and refashions hoary horror tricks into something flooded with atmosphere, with as few bells and whistles as possible. On the heels of a recent string of successful horror entries (The Babadook, The Guest, You're Next, The Conjuring), It Follows has raised the bar for the genre yet again. 

Mitchell's premise (he also wrote the script) alone is dynamite. After the obligatory opening death, the story proper begins with Detroit teenager Jay (The Guest's Maika Monroe) sleeping with her college boyfriend Hugh. Yet after the wholly consensual encounter is over, Jay is knocked unconscious. When she wakes up, Hugh has tired her to a chair and is rambling on about something that he has "passed on" to her. Shortly, Jay will find herself pursued by an entity, albeit one that takes a different form every time it appears. The creature, first seen as a naked woman, merely walks in a straight line toward its victim, until said victim has sex with someone else. 

Whatever the malevolent force in It Follows is, it's not an idea that instantly registers on a visual level. Sometimes the creature manifests itself as someone scary, but other times it takes the form of an ordinary civilian. And yet despite the often mundane appearance of the monster, It Follows is an extraordinarily accomplished piece on a visual level. Mitchell's shots are often quite long, and forgo any hectic transitions or edits. Some of the most intense stretches in the film are built upon the camera's gentle movements left and right, or forward and backward. Meanwhile, Rich Vreeland, also known by the stage name Disasterpeace, supplies a thudding electronic score that would make John Carpenter proud. The combination creates a sense of paranoia that is at once over-the-top and deeply nerve-wracking. 

Even when Mitchell sets up a scene as innocent, the possibility of the titular "it" is always there, and that's where It Follows' staying power stems from. Rather than try and drag the viewer through endless jump scares, Mitchell invests considerable effort in creating an atmosphere that takes hold early, and keeps the intensity and an unwavering, at times unbearable, white-knuckle simmer. This is a horror film designed to hold your attention, and it does so with mostly spectacular results.

And even though It Follows is not designed as a character-driven freak-out like The Babadook, the cast deserves mention for solid work across the board. The standout, of course, is Monroe, who's quickly making a name for herself as a true 21st century scream queen. Though often bewildered by what's going on, Monroe never turns Jay into a total dope. Suspension of disbelief is a given with It Follows' sexually-charged premise, but Monroe helps ground Jay's terror and make her actions believable, even if they aren't always the smartest (Hugh tells her to never hide in a place with only one exit, and the advice is blatantly ignored multiple times).

Mitchell maintains It Follows' intensity effortlessly, even sticking the landing in the finale, an area where many horror movies start to lose their footing. Since we see the monster so often, and understand its capabilities, there's no twist incorporated for the sake of upping the ante for sheer spectacle. The monster (ghost...demon...whatever) is a constant, and therefore it's constantly menacing. At once a self-aware B-movie and a straight-faced screamer, It Follows is an exhilarating work that uses simplicity to consistently create some of the most intense horror moments in years, and all because it opts to walk where so many similar films would rather run.

Grade: B+

Review: "Chappie"

Director: Neill Blomkamp

Runtime: 120 minutes

Hollywood loves the comfort of formula over the perils of risk. While there's nothing inherently malicious about this mindset, it can, over time, stifle more ambitious ideas and projects. The industry's current state makes a movie like Chappie, the third film from District 9 director Neill Blomkamp, all the more remarkable. Chappie is a film full of knowingly weird elements, from its mix of tones to its casting choices. Yet even though Blomkamp's risks remain admirable, and the film has more of Blomkamp's voice than sophomore effort Elysium, Chappie is an unfortunate instance where almost none of the risks have paid off. Ambition and execution are vastly different things, and, despite a few promising steps in the right direction, Blomkamp is unable to translate the former into the latter.

The world of Chappie, set only a few years in the future, is a return to Blomkamp's District 9 roots. The setting is Johannesburg, and technological advances are few and far between. This time, however, the sci-fi pieces of the story stem not from alien refugees, but from man-made devices. Seeking to cut down on crime rates (as well as officer fatalities), South Africa implements the world's first robotic police force, courtesy of the Tetra Vaal corporation, headed by Michelle Bradley (Sigourney Weaver). Lead programmer Deon Wilson (Dev Patel) is the true star of the company, and is doing his best to push the robots even further: he wants to create a truly sentient robot, capable of emotions and opinions. He even has a malfunctioning police robot that would be perfect to test his new program on. Bradley is dismissive of the idea, as is co-worker (and former soldier) Vincent Moore (Hugh Jackman), who has a near-religious fear of AI. With its corporate overlords and security state parallels, Chappie lays out a basic foundation that one expects of this sort of sci-fi adventure. And then the rappers step in. 

Though one of the film's eventual protagonists is the titular robot (created via motion capture with actor Sharlto Copley), the biggest casting risk found in Chappie is the use of South African rap-rave duo Die Antwoord. Members Yolandi Visser and Ninja play fictionalized (and gangsta-ized) versions of their stage personas, and they represent Chappie biggest gamble (yes, moreso than forcing Jackman to sport a mullet from hell). Everything about them is attention-grabbing, from their speaking voices to their decorative instincts (the duo's lair appears to have been marked up with a mix of chalk and highlighters). In essence, they look like extras from a Mad Max film by way of an episode of Wacky Races. The pair hijacks Deon's truck (with the future Chappie in tow), and steal the droid in an attempt to hack the system (the "off switch" for the police bots is kept in a heavily-guarded vault). Given the nature of Deon's program, Chappie starts out with the robot equivalent of a toddler's capabilities. 

Chappie's childlike personality informs the central conflict of the story, which sees Deon, Yolandi, and Ninja all trying to raise the droid in different ways. While Deon and (surprisingly) Yolandi are gentle, Ninja has no patience for the creature's infantile first phases. Had Blomkamp and co-writer Teri Tatchell honed in on the story's family of freaky outsiders, Chappie might have built to something genuinely resonant. Instead, the scattershot script is constantly interrupting Chappie's growth with not one, but two completely separate villains. In addition to Jackman's increasingly unhinged Vincent, Blomkamp also insists on holding onto local gang lord Hippo (Brandon Auret), to whom Yolandi and Ninja owe millions of dollars.

With so much crammed in, Chappie is narratively overstuffed, even at two hours. Just as Yolandi and Ninja clash when it comes to how to raise their titanium-coated child, Blomkamp and Tatchell struggle to streamline the various pieces of the story into a coherent final product. There's little change in the filmmaking when Blomkamp tries to inject some odd-ball black comedy, and then switch to what should be a more introspective moment. The pacing is monotonous, leaving the smaller moments - such as a damaged and heart-broken Chappie finding companionship with a stray dog - without room to take hold. With sharper scripting and more varied direction, Chappie could have conjured up some moments of WALL-E-type grace, albeit with a bizarro, R-rated edge. Instead, these potentially affecting moments move along as if they're being rolled off of an assembly line, just like the rest of the film.

Mr. Copley, who has had a major role in all of Blomkamp's work to date, is hurt most of all by the film's failings. The heart and soul of the character never has a fighting chance against the suffocating, increasingly stupid escalation of the plot. As is to be expected, Blomkamp's ability to come up with designs for robots, weapons, vehicles, but his filmmaking robs Chappie and Copley of the opportunity to create something on the same level as Andy Serkis' creations in The Lord of the Rings or Planet of the Apes. Copley has turned in a few truly bad performances since District 9, but when working with Blomkamp, the actor is in his element. If only the director had given him the attention he deserved here.

Other performances unremarkable, and, like Copley, are let down by both the writing and direction. Patel comes closest to giving a legitimately good performance. In his interactions with Chappie, Patel brings a lot of heart to Deon, the only person who has the robot's best interests in mind from the very start. Jackman has fun playing a villain, but all of his scenes are reliant on the same one-note menace. Weaver, no stranger to making her mark in science fiction, is utterly wasted in what basically amounts to a glorified cameo. 

Yet even though Chappie is the would-be heart of the story, nothing better encapsulates the experience of Chappie the film like Die Antwoord. Though neither have acting experience, the duo's freaky, theatrical performance styles aren't an entirely bad match for the screen. But, in keeping with everyone else, Yolandi and Ninja are flat, one-note characters (that Ninja is nothing but a jackass until the final minutes doesn't help at all). Their top-to-bottom weirdness is curious and refreshing at first, and lends the film a distinctly South African stamp. But in the context of Blomkamp's repetitive, at times incoherent, filmmaking, even the allure of their unique identities feels worn out by the end. Weirdness for the sake of weirdness can produce arresting results (e.g. the best work of David Lynch), but when said weirdness is filtered through increasingly routine blockbuster chaos, it winds up as intellectually and emotionally hollow as most of the robots on screen.

Grade: C-

Review: "Serena"

Director: Susanne Bier
Runtime: 109 minutes

Even the brightest super-star duos stumble once and a while. That's exactly the case with Susanne Bier's long-delayed Serena, which strands A-listers/frequent co-stars Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence in a jumbled, albeit sincerely made, attempt at old-school melodrama. Even fans of the two leads would be advised to steer clear of Bier's latest attempt to find success outside of her native Denmark. 

What's instantly clear about Serena is that, despite the strong credentials, just about everything rings hollow. Characters are established via stray lines of dialogue rather than meaningful conversations or actions, and the actors trudge through their material while sounding like they've never spoken a word of English until now. Set in Depression-era North Carolina, Serena is a romance and a tragedy set among the state's struggling timber industry. George Pemberton (Cooper) is doing his best to grow his business into an empire, while his new wife Serena (Lawrence) is coping with her inability to produce an heir. It's a set-up rich with dramatic potential, with Serena's quest for a male heir instantly calling to mind the not-so-merry wives of Henry VIII. Unfortunately, the beautifully shot trees are the least wooden subjects on display.

Cooper and Lawrence have proven themselves as talented, charismatic performers, but in Serena they are distressingly out of sync with their material and each other. George's first line of dialogue to Serena is an out-of-the-blue marriage proposal, and it's all downhill from there. For a while, Serena is more focused on George's battle against officials who want to stop his deforestation efforts to create a national park. Despite the grim faces and appropriately dusty period attire, the plot thread never takes hold. Parks and Recreation traversed similar narrative ground with greater heft, even with Leslie Knope's undeterred, sunny optimism. So, after about 45 minutes and one murder, Christopher Kyle's script (based on Ron Rash's novel) gets cold feet and shifts to the pregnancy drama. 

The traumas and tragedies that follow over the remaining hour are a mish-mash of cliches that aren't done any favors by Bier's handling of the tone, which switches between disinterested and dour at the tip of George's wide-brimmed hat. Cooper is stuck trying to pull off an unconvincing accent, while Lawrence conveys the poise required for the role while still being distractingly underage. As with American Hustle, there are pieces of a solid performance in Lawrence's work, but they require a level of maturity that can only come with time. Sometimes, screen presence just isn't enough.

As the dueling story lines awkwardly slug it out for dominance, Serena unravels at a tedious pace. Photography, costumes, and sets all hit their marks, capturing the period and setting without creating false glamor. But with an unwieldy plot barely propped up by the wet blanket chemistry of the leads, even the visuals start to seem phony by the end. Given the rumored re-shoots and re-edits of the film, perhaps there's a version of Serena that actually passes muster as a noble failure, or even a minor success. Yet, in it's current form, the romance lacks heat, and the tragedy lacks even an ounce of genuine pathos. Some movies, no matter how much sense they make on paper, just never find the spark required to create compelling drama. Here's hoping the next Cooper/Lawrence vehicle (David O. Russell's Joy, due by year's end) gets these two A-listers back on the right track.

Grade: D