Director: Hany Abu-Assad
Runtime: 96 minutes
For a film featuring a love triangle, constant paranoia, and betrayal, Oscar-nominated Palestinian thriller Omar rarely grabs one's attention. Though competent enough on all fronts, Hany Abu-Assad's topical film is ultimately built on flimsy emotional and psychological foundations. Rather than sink its hooks in and then dig deep, Omar is barely capable of poking beneath the surface once all of the narrative elements are established.
The end result is particularly disappointing because of the effortlessly handled opening act. Despite the gunshots and police abuse, watching young rebel Omar (Adam Bakri) sneak around Jerusalem hammers home the banality of the setting's violence and chaos. Watching military police taunt Omar by forcing him to stand on a rock for hours is only moderately tense as cinema, which somehow becomes unnerving in retrospect. These instances are eerily common place, and even expected. The near misses with the police are woven into Omar's life as if they're simply part of his daily schedule.
Yet these establishing scenes, which also introduce love interest Nadia (Leem Lubany), and Omar's rebel comrades Tarek (Iyad Hoorani) and Amjad (Samer Bisharat), aren't given enough meat to support what follows. When Omar is roped into being an informant for Israeli authorities, the film seems ready to truly take off from a narrative standpoint. Instead, it starts to unravel.
The most troubling thing about Omar's main plot is how little the film touches on Omar's psychological dilemma. Yes, he'll have to make choices about what he does or doesn't reveal, but Abu-Assad's thin screenplay allows for little room for the stakes to really settle (outside of the obvious). On the surface, we can see what Omar stands to lose, but the pacing just keeps clipping along, never bothering to dwell too much. Ironically, the somewhat nimble pace ends up working against the thriller elements of the story. After a point, Omar becomes mildly frustrating, as it goes through the motions. Only when the physical movement is at its height, as in a pair of dynamic on-foot chases, does Abu-Assad's approach actually connect.
The glimpses of actual humanity, meanwhile, are often swept aside. That doesn't mean that certain moments don't register, however. A scene where Omar and Israeli agent Rami (Waleed Zuaiter) share a laugh over the latter's wife and mother hints at what Omar could have been. There's actual complexity there: for all of the fear and manipulation, two diametrically opposed individuals can still bond over a simple, human moment, even as they're surrounded by conflicting circumstances. At the very least, a deep examination of this would have acted as a counterweight to the bloodless love triangle entanglement that arrives at the midway point.
Even the writer/director's protagonist becomes partly culpable in the film's noble failure. Handsome though he may be, Bakri can't manage to project his internal turmoil. This single change would likely have upped the film's quality by quite a margin. Though the actor emotes effectively, never straining for show-off moments, there's a lack of true complexity. Rather than find ways of showing Omar's stressful situation, Abu-Assad and Bakri leave the make-up and fake blood to show us the damage. It's all about appearances with Omar, and sadly nothing more.
Grade: C
Director(s): Stephane Aubier, Vincent Patar, & Benjamin Renner
Runtime: 90 minutes
Advances in animation have brought us some truly spectacular achievements over the years. One need look no further than Pixar's finest to see how beautifully rendered and detailed an animated film can become. Yet despite the wonders WALL-E and Up conjure, it would be a mistake to write off hand-drawn animation, even though its time on the throne has long since passed. A film like the French production Ernest & Celestine, however, indicates that old fashioned, simpler-looking works are still a vital side of the animated world. Ernest and Celestine is more than just beautiful and charming; it's a film that clearly demonstrates that certain stories are best told with an old-fashioned touch.
Where the average Pixar film is stuffed to the gills with detail (Merida's hair in Brave), Ernest & Celestine favors a look that combines pencil sketches and watercolor paintings. Based on Gabrielle Vincent's beloved series of children's books, the film's directors and animators only marginally tweak the author's visual style. The images are soft, rounded, and stylized, and complemented by a color palette that favors broad strokes over precision and perfection.
That same statement also applies to Daniel Pennac's screenplay. Set in a world populated by the surface-dwelling bears and sewer-bound mice, Ernest & Celestine has a well worn story of putting aside cultural (not to mention species-related) differences. Pennac's story, in the hands of the three credited directors and the delightful voice cast, is simple, but never simplistic. The message may be anything but new, but it's handled with a delicate touch that avoids moralizing or cheap schmaltziness.
If the brisk story (barely 90 minutes) has any weaknesses, they come early on, only because of the necessary set up of the titular bear Ernest (Lambert Wilson) and mouse Celestine (Pauline Brunner). Once the pair officially become literal partners in crime, the film is nothing short of a joy to watch. Ernest & Celestine has no big moments or twists, and instead takes pleasures in expressing the small pieces of the narrative with style and wit. Take, for instance, the police force of the mouse world, shown as an amorphous blob of faces and uniforms in pursuit of culprits. Then there's the film's standout sequence, in which Celestine's love of painting and Ernest's love of music come together for an ingenious living montage as winter gives way to spring.
And even though the film will be released in US theaters with an American cast, it's worth seeking out the original French dub. Wilson, Brunner, and the supporting cast all turn in lovely work. Even when the writing becomes a tad broad, the cast is always a pleasure to hear. Wilson and Brunner's scenes together have just the right amount of push and pull, and the actors' voice work is nothing less than charming.
Despite its lesson about prejudice, the real draw here is the central relationship. Though the ending is predictable, it is refreshing for its devotion to the two protagonists. The script makes its point, then backs off and concludes with a moment that returns to its characters, rather than a broad "happily ever after." Near the end of Ernest & Celestine, an end that arrives far too soon, Ernest tells Celestine that they have many adventures in their future. I hope he's right.
Grade: B+
Director: Jim Jarmusch
Runtime: 122 minutes
While big budget vampire endeavors have mostly failed (critically and commercially), the independent and foreign circuits have been much more successful. 2008 gave us the Swedish Let the Right One In, and the following year saw the release of South Korea's Thirst. And, just last year, Neil Jordan's Byzantium, though hardly a consensus favorite, was still a success. These stories work because, despite their centuries old, supernatural characters, focus on character-driven intimacy, rather than grandiose battles. The same is also true of Jim Jarmusch's Only Lovers Left Alive, in which the hazy atmosphere takes precedence over bloodshed and fangs.
That's not to say that there isn't a good deal of the red stuff seen on screen, but it's almost never accompanied by violence. Detroit-based Adam (Tom Hiddleston), a total shut in, gets his blood from a nearby hospital lab. Though the temptation to feed on a human (or "zombie," as Adam derisively refers to them) remains, Adam remains resolute in his isolation. On the other hand, his lover Eve (Tilda Swinton), though hardly a party-goer, spends her nights traversing the ancient, empty streets of Tangier. If nothing else, Only Lovers Left Alive is proof that slow motion footage of Tilda Swinton never gets old. Other than excursions to meet friends or acquire blood (O-negative is the drink of choice), however, the ancient lovers remain in their brilliantly conceived apartments listening to music.
If anything, music seems to be the last thing that really holds them together. Jarmusch and cinematographer Yorick Le Saux open the film with a series of spiraling shots: first the night sky, then a spinning record, and then overhead views of Adam and Eve in their respective homes. Yet while Eve seems content to lie back and let the music drift over her, Adam slouches on his couch. His conditional immortality has taken a toll on him, to the point where he commissions his lone "friend" (Anton Yelchin) to find him a wooden bullet. Sensing her lover's emotional despair, Eve travels to Detroit (night flights only, of course), to reconnect with her eternal beloved one.
From that point on, Only Lovers Left Alive doesn't really change much. Even the arrival of Eve's wild sister Ava (Mia Wasikowska), doesn't shake up the film's routine too much. There are conversations about past friends (Lord Byron, Schubert), drives around the most desolate parts of Detroit, and music to liven the mood. On paper, it sounds like it shouldn't work. There's so little that happens in Only Lovers Left Alive, which is why it's a good thing that Jarmusch and his collaborators nail the dreamy atmosphere from the opening frames. The pacing is hardly taut, but the combination of the photography and music is steadily engaging in its own laid back way.
Atmospherics aside, the real draw here is Swinton. Known for her ice queen roles, it's refreshing to see her take a break and play a lighter, fun-spirited character. A lover of literature, Eve's apartment is practically overflowing with books from across the centuries. She thrives on her immortality, while still feeling the pangs of mortality when they hit (her scenes with John Hurt's sickly vampire version of Christopher Marlowe are among the film's best). Whether trying to dance for Adam and drag him out of his funk, or mourning the loss of a loved one, Swinton is the film's clear standout.
By contrast, Hiddleston is something of a disappointment. Though the role calls for brooding intensity, there doesn't really seem to be a lot going on behind his eyes. We get a better sense of him based on his interactions with Eve, rather than Hiddleston's own performance. Though the actor certainly has the look for the role (vampires tend to come from chiseled, high cheek-boned stock), his presence here is curiously (pardon the pun) bloodless. Supporting turns from Hurt, Yelchin, and Wasikowska punch up the film, but it's still a bit disappointing that only half of the central couple is genuinely compelling to watch. Yet Hiddleston's role is so often passive, that there's little he can do to hold the film back. If anything, his flat work gives more breathing room to the rest of the ensemble.
Aside from Swinton's lovely work, the second best performer of the lot is Jarmusch in his roles as writer and director. Only Lovers Left Alive could have easily drifted into repetitive tediousness, but I found myself caught up in every jam session, blood drinking, and nighttime drive. The techniques used in the film, like the slow motion, are smartly used, and never outstay their welcome.
The artistic and technical aspects are also first rate, making smart use of the modest budget. Le Saux works low key wonders with scenes shot entirely indoors or at night, highlighting the immaculately designed apartments that house the titular lovers. The art direction functions as a smart interpretation of the minds of the characters: Adam's apartment is dingy and cluttered, while Eve's is ancient and beautiful. The former is bored of immortality, while the latter is at peace with it, and thrives on it. Only Lovers Left Alive may not have a lot to say, but it does know how to say it well.
Grade: B/B+
Director: George Clooney
Runtime: 118 minutes
Even at just two hours, The Monuments Men feels longer than World War II itself. There is fascinating history in this story, but draggy pacing and a lack of stakes quickly drown this star-studded endeavor. Director and co-writer George Clooney has assembled a big name cast who are all dressed up with nowhere to go, even in a story set against WWII and the last days of the Third Reich. Neither convincingly dramatic nor sufficiently comedic, The Monuments Men is a misfire that casts significant doubts on Clooney's abilities behind the camera.
Rather than sit through The Monuments Men, you'd be better off watching the excellent documentary The Rape of Europa. Despite all of the big names and Hollywood gloss, Clooney's film is strangely inert from the get go. By contrast, the Europa doc is a fascinating, gripping account of an often-overlooked episode in the second World War.
To call the characters in The Monuments Men underdeveloped would be an understatement. They are barely sketches. Even in the hands of a talented ensemble, the painfully thin writing is nothing but a hindrance. A good third, maybe even half, of the film is meant to be something of a comedy, but the results are often as flat as day-old Coke. Matt Damon, always watchable, is essentially human cardboard. He's not helped by the way the film sidelines his subplot for long stretches, to the point where it feels like years have passed each time we check in on him.
Meanwhile, Bill Murray and Bob Balaban are stuck with unbearably forced comedic relief, none of which is helped by the painful amount of time between lines of dialogue. For a film that should have such significant stakes, it's somewhat astonishing how badly Clooney botches the pacing here. Motivations are nonexistent, as is character development. What we're left with is a middling slog of a history lesson with nothing left to offer either historically or cinematically. Moments that should land hard evoke mere shrugs, while the overall impact of the journey is reduced to, "art is kind of important, no?"
But the biggest offender of all is just how self-congratulatory the whole enterprise feels. A few lines about the importance of art are merely tossed off, and this alone is supposed to make the whole journey mean something Important. Yet when a character stares in awe at an abandoned Rodin sculpture, there's no reason to care or share in that moment of awe. This same level of laziness is present from the get-go, which makes all two hours of The Monuments Men crawl by through an interminable series of episodes. The Monuments Men make look the part, but, as a film, it has all of the worth of warm champagne without any bubbles.
Grade: C-/D+
Directors: Phil Lord & Christopher Miller
Runtime: 100 minutes
By all accounts, The Lego Movie shouldn't work. On the surface, it seems like the evil twin of Pixar's Toy Story franchise: a calculated attempt at cashing in on a name brand without any legitimate cinematic effort. Yet even though there's no doubt that The Lego Movie will help boost sales of the famous toys, Phil Lord and Christopher Miller's film still stands tall as its own achievement. Rather than a cheap cash grab, The Lego Movie is a snappy, funny, and utterly delightful work with the right mix of broad appeal and actual cinematic smarts.
Though the story is full of cliches, including the prophecy-filled opening, Lord and Miller's script knows how to embrace and subvert cliches, rather than become weighed down by them. At its core, The Lego Movie is about an ordinary guy (Emmett, voiced by Chris Pratt), getting swept up in an adventure to save the world. Yet rather than settle for saccharine condescension, The Lego Movie has a little more going on under the surface, albeit not at first glance.
Even without the final act (which I'll leave unspoiled), this is still a constantly engaging, frequently hilarious joyride. The stellar voice cast, which also includes Elizabeth Banks, Will Arnett, Will Ferrell, Alison Brie, and Morgan Freeman, are all perfectly on point with their delivery. Even when confined to the limited expressions of the digitally enhanced Lego figures, these characters really pop. Equally impressive is how Lord and Miller manage to make the film equally enjoyable for all ages, without ever stooping into crude or gross-out territory. Rather than pander, The Lego Movie focuses on a charming, and ultimately touching story about creativity and independence, with just the right touch of subversion.
The animation is just as impressive. The figures all look sleek and polished, yet the movement still has the feel of actual Lego bricks. It's a decision that feels both retro and refreshingly new. Above all, what makes The Lego Movie stand out is that it truly feels like a work of love, rather than a glorified advertisement. There are real characters, a real (albeit traditional) story, and even a brief flash of genuine emotional heft.
That's not to say that The Lego Movie hits the same highs as the best of the Pixar canon, but it's still and beautifully accomplished work of animation on all fronts. Once the story movies past the purposefully bland introduction, the whole project roars to life, and keeps the jokes and exciting set pieces coming with smart efficiency. Above all else, The Lego Movie is proof that, with the right levels of passion and care, commercial properties can function as their own enjoyable films. It's enough to make you forget that the whole project likely started as nothing more than a glorified commercial designed to make a few extra bucks.
Grade: B+
Director: Asghar Farhadi
Runtime: 130 minutes
Iranian director Asghar Farhadi knows how to create compelling, naturalistic scenarios - as evidenced by 2011's A Separation - but his latest film leaves quite a lot to be desired. In A Separation, Farhadi crafted an electric look at a couple struggling to move forward in their lives. With The Past, Farhadi shifts his focus to the way past events, recent and distant, come up to haunt the present. Yet Farhadi's look at the past proves far less compelling than his previous film's portrait of the struggle to move forward.
The solid performances and confident directing are stuck trying to sort out a script (also by Farhadi) that remains frustratingly unfocused. Though the opening scenes seem effective, albeit much quieter than A Separation's fiery arguments, they quickly give way to mundane padding. When Marie (Berenice Bejo, who picked up the Best Actress prize at Cannes back in May) picks up her ex-husband Ahmad (Ali Mosaffa) at the airport, the film seems headed in the right direction. The two actors have a comfortable, lived-in chemistry that Farhadi never mishandles or over emphasizes. It may not be as attention-grabbing as Separation's opening scene, but it sets the stage nicely and avoids coming off as though Farhadi is repeating himself.
Yet once Ali settles in (he's in Paris to finalize his and Marie's divorce), The Past starts to wander off. The film runs for 130 minutes, yet the most notable stretch after the opening scene doesn't arrive until 80 minutes have elapsed. Barely anything in between begs to be examined or probed for greater depth. There are no actively bad scenes in The Past, but there are a large number of them that are barely more than functional. The writing creates occasional sparks, but nothing substantial enough to start a real fire.
More troubling is Farhadi's meandering focus. The Past begins as Ali and Marie's story, and gradually becomes more about Ali. That is, until it no longer needs him, and jumps over to Marie and her new boyfriend Samir (A Prophet's Tahar Rahim). Later on, Marie drops off as well, leaving the film's final scraps at Samir's feet. Shifting focus across protagonists isn't inherently wrong or misguided, but The Past certainly doesn't stand as a strong example. None of the main characters feel properly anchored or fleshed out, even after several delicate secrets come to light.
By the time the (admittedly poignant) final scene arrives, one is left wondering what on earth the point was. For a film that spends so much time attempting to build up its characters, they rarely feel whole, as though they know their time as the film's central focus is about to expire. The Past starts off promisingly enough, with a set-up filled with ideas about past and present relationships colliding with each other. But beyond that set-up, there's hardly anything worth talking about when it comes to the execution, other than the head-scratching lack of focus.
Farhadi proved his talents as a writer with A Separation, yet his script this time around is the film's Achilles Heel, rather than its best asset. And even though The Past is never truly bad, the directing and the performances aren't enough to significantly offset the deficiencies in the writing. It's the epitome of a respectable, yet totally unremarkable middle-of-the-road drama from a writer/director who is capable of so much more.
Grade: C+
Director: Martin Scorsese
Runtime: 180 minutes
Though billed as a raucous dark comedy, it would be more accurate to describe The Wolf of Wall Street as a big, loud, three hour parade of horrors. This chronicle of real-life stock broker Jordan Belfort's rise and fall is a slice of excess that is, itself, excessive in execution. Despite stunningly committed work from Leonardo DiCaprio, and some very entertaining debauchery, The Wolf of Wall Street still feels too big for its own good, and this is after a hour of material has already hit the cutting room floor.
Set amid the coke-fueled heyday of the late 80s and early 90s, Belfort's story begins when, at 22, he walked off of the bus at Wall Street hoping to make a name for himself. And, of course, he did, albeit in all of the wrong ways. As was the case with American Hustle, Wolf isn't terribly concerned about giving the actual plot developments the spotlight. Instead, it's content to allow the plot to momentarily pop up from its gopher hole, while it spends most of its time reveling in the big and insanely loud lives of the characters.
And even though Scorsese is much better at balancing free-wheeling character scenes and overall plot than David O. Russell, the scales are still tipped way too far in favor of the insanity. Yet to call Wolf a 'party movie' doesn't really sit right. There are drug-fueled blowouts and orgies a plenty, but their purpose is to repulse rather than to seduce. Belfort and his stock broker friends and associates lived large in the emptiest, most debased way imaginable. At the end of La Dolce Vita, Marcello Mastroianni laments the hollowness of his party-driven lifestyle, but he'd go sprinting back to any of those celebrations if he caught a glimpse of Belfort's exploits.
Despite the film's considerable excesses, it's almost worth all three hours just to witness the gob-smacking amount of effort DiCaprio gives the role in every frame. Some of his previous collaborations with Scorsese have been held back by stiffness or self-consciousness. Here, however, the actor has truly gotten lost in the part. It's mostly sound and fury theatrics, but DiCaprio's every move is perfectly in sync with Scorsese's tone and vision: in your face, exhilarating, repulsive, and ultimately exhausting. Though it won't go down as his most nuanced performance, there's something impressive with how well DiCaprio simply lets go. A long, but worthwhile, scene involving quaaludes and co-worker Donny Azoff (Jonah Hill) includes some of the most impressive physical acting to hit the screen in the past decade.
So, despite the expansive supporting cast (including Hill, Margot Robbie, Matthew McConaughey, Joanna Lumley, Kyle Chandler, and Jean Dujardin), the entire three hours truly rests on DiCaprio's shoulders. He certainly carries the whole thing pretty damn effortlessly, which is why it's a shame that Scorsese couldn't have simply given him less to carry. With essentially no change in Belfort's character over the course of the runtime, the nonstop hijinks become exhausting in all of the wrong ways. Scorsese's film is always watchable, but some additional reigning in would have been appreciated. There's simply not enough room for the plot to breathe properly. Had the chaos built to a clearer point, this complaint wouldn't be such a big deal. But the point of the whole thing is something that one can ascertain after the first hour or so. Everything else, however compelling, is merely indulgent to a fault.
Grade: B-
