Review: "Joy"

Director: David O. Russell
Runtime: 124 minutes

If you find it odd that Joy opens with voice over from the main character's grandmother, don't expect coherence or justification to follow. David O. Russell's new free-wheeling, rambunctious dramedy is a puzzler from start to finish, and not for the best reasons. Adapting the real-life story of Miracle Mop inventor Joy Mangano, Russell has applied the same energetic style that distinguished his last three films (The Fighter, Silver Linings Playbook, and American Hustle). Yet all of the roving, dynamic camera-work and snappy music choices in Joy's 2 hour runtime are enough to give a sense of life or necessity to this rags-to-riches tale. 

That's not to say that Mangano's tale is undeserving of dramatization, but Russell's execution here doesn't do it justice. The loud, dysfunctional family that surrounds Joy (Jennifer Lawrence) feels like a watered down version of what Russell presented in both Silver Linings and The Fighter. Yelling and bickering take the place of actual character growth, as if enough familial sparring will eventually turn into quirkiness. 

And it might have, were it not for the flatness that permeates just about every performance from the ensemble. Russell has assembled a typically excellent, charismatic cast, but none of them seem terribly invested in the material. The actors glide through the dialogue as if waiting for inspiration to strike, yet it never does. At worst, everyone in Joy sounds just a bit, well, bored. Whatever your opinion on Russell's recent films, they have enough energy flowing through them to make them at least passable entertainment. Joy, however, moves along mostly on autopilot, despite the lively, in-your-face photography. 

Perhaps the lack of energy comes down to the cluttered, discordant nature of the story. Joy brings in characters and subplots, but the wider the film's scope becomes, the weaker its impact. The closest the film comes to evoking joy (or any other emotion) arrives in the midsection, when Mangano starts to plug the Miracle Mop on QVC. Whether cramming in a cameo from Joan Rivers (played by her daughter, Melissa), or showing Mangano's eventual triumph on live TV, the QVC scenes introduce a sense of coherence and purpose. 

But the drive that highlights the rise of the Miracle Mop empire is stranded in a film that never quite figures out where it's going or leading up to. Diane Ladd's voice pops up sporadically with eyeroll-worthy narration, trying to turn Joy's story into a late 20th century entrepreneurial fairy tale. But much of what transpires just happens for the sake of filling up time over the course of a plodding two hours. The worst example is when Joy's shut in of a mother (Virginia Madsen) strikes up a relationship with a repairman. It adds nothing to the narrative, and there's nothing in the material that makes the messiness of the subplot feel acceptable. Like most of the story in Joy, it's just sort of there. One great shot in the film involves Mangano confidently strutting down a street. Unlike his subject, Russell is unable to match Joy's single-minded confidence or swagger. 

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

Review: "X-Men: Days of Future Past"

Director: Bryan Singer
Runtime: 131 minutes

At once a sequel, prequel, and complete narrative overhaul, Marvel's X-Men: Days of Future Past certainly hasn't been shy about its ambitions. With casts from the original trilogy and 2011's First Class, returning director Bryan Singer, along with a plot involving time travel, Days of Future Past seemed like an unwieldy entity. After leaving the X-Men franchise to direct the leaden Superman Returns and the flat Valkyrie, Singer's return to the director's chair was understandably met with hesitation. Yet he and writer Simon Kinberg (atoning for the mostly awful X-Men: The Last Stand) have avoided running Marvel's prized mutant family into the ground. While the franchises of the various Avengers heroes are clearly Marvel's top priority, Days of Future Past returns the X-Men to their glory days. This is more than a step in the right direction. It's a full-blown resurrection, with plot, spectacle, and drama all skillfully woven together. 

This is most impressive when considering the important of time travel to DOFP's narrative. There are always plot holes that crop up when time travel arrives in a story, so it's important to manage everything else smoothly enough so the stakes get more focus than potential story-telling paradoxes. Singer, clearly reinvigorated by returning to this world, shows that he knows how to handle this world better than those peers that have sat in during his absence. Working off of Kinberg's smooth, straightforward screenplay, Singer and editor/composer John Ottman are able to keep things moving along beautifully, without every leaving key characters in the dust. 

That last bit is of special importance in this film more than any other X-Men adventure. Though we see plenty of mutants across the 131 minute duration, many are just there to fill the screen. Don't expect to learn more about the likes of Warpath (Booboo Stewart) or Fan BingBing's portal-creating Blink. They, along with several others, are just here to fill out the story's framing device which is this (take a deep breath): After Mystique (Jennifer Lawrence) kills anti-mutant scientist Boliver Trask (Peter Dinklage), the world's governments pour money into Trask's Sentinel Program. The Sentinels are large, adaptable robots that, a la Skynet, eradicate mutants and their genetically mundane allies. With the future now a bleak dystopia, Prof. X (Patrick Stewart) and Magneto (Ian McKellan) come up with a last ditch plan. With help from Kitty Pryde (Ellen Page), they will send Wolverine (Hugh Jackman) into the past to reunite the young Xavier and Magneto (James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender, respectively) to stop Mystique's mission, as well as its increasingly devastating consequences.

Once all of the time-travel mumbo jumbo is hashed out via's Stewart's effortlessly commanding voice, and Wolverine wakes up inhabiting his body as it was in 1973, the film really comes to life. Despite all of the VFX involved, Days of Future Past is never careless when it comes to digital trickery. The story and the quartet of Jackman, McAvoy, Lawrence, and Fassbender are the real draws here, and Kinberg gives each role enough room to breathe. While it's frustrating to see Page's role hollowed out (in the source material, she was the one who leapt back in time), the story's four leads and their various conflicts are still compelling. 

Rather than retread old ground, the first half of the film plays like an inversion of the very first X-Men (2000). Here, Wolverine has to step back and be both mediator and leader, roles he was in no way ready to take on when he first joined the X-Men. Meanwhile, young Charles Xavier is a depressed, alcoholic mess who has lost his way. Beast (Nicholas Hoult) has healed Xavier's legs, but the cost has been his tremendous psionic powers. Even though Wolverine is able to make Xavier believe his outrageous time travel story, the latter hardly feels like reconnecting with his mutant roots.

Though Jackman's Wolverine has always been a central part of the X-Men movies, his role reversal is a smart choice, and he and McAvoy play off of each other quite well. There are still traces of the cynical mutant's past in Jackman's performance, but here they're held back for the sake of urgency. McAvoy, meanwhile improves on his already impressive performance from First Class as the film's mentally shattered version of Xavier. The actor's vulnerability and desperation are given the weight needed to make us care, without digging so deep as to turn the film into a pretentious existential drama. 

Things only get better as Fassbender and Lawrence enter the fray. The former remains perfectly suited as the dogmatic Magneto, while Lawrence brings more genuine spark to Mystique than she did in First Class, where she was occasionally flat. Special mention should go to Evan Peters as the ultra fast Quicksilver, who is given just enough to be an enjoyable addition without leaving the film overstuffed. His part in the story is brief, but critical, and it allows Singer and co. to use Quicksilver's powers as part of the film's lightest, most enjoyable set-piece. Unlike the extra mutants in X-Men Origins: Wolverine, Quicksilver's guest appearance here is superbly integrated, and it ends just in time to get back to the four established protagonists.

Every one of them has an agenda, yet the streamlined plotting ensures that motives remain clear without grinding the film to a halt. Days of Future Past is always moving, yet it never feels rushed outside of the exposition-heavy opening. The blockbuster it best calls to mind (and not simply because of the time travel aspect), is the 2009 reboot of Star Trek. The JJ Abrams film had a lot going on, yet kept its characters grounded amid all of the flashy effects to deliver an experience where the drama was earned, and therefore resonated. 

Backing up Singer's handling of the story and his main stars are some of his slickest, liveliest direction to date. Eschewing the rather bland color palette of most Marvel films, Days of Future Past is much more visually engaging than the standard summer tentpole. Newton Thomas Siegel's photography, especially in the 1973 scenes, is rich and textured, and lends an extra bit of believability to the fantastical premise and characters. He and Singer also have a bit of fun capturing some of the mutant action on 70s era cameras, further grounding us in a time period where the mutants stand out even more than they do in the present or future. Production designer John Mhyre, whose stacked resume includes superhero flicks and glittery musicals, does a stellar job with sets without going overboard.  

And then, of course, there are the visual effects. Though some elements are more cartoon-y than others (the future versions of the Sentinels), most of the VFX work is superbly handled. It only ups the stakes and the grandeur, rather than taking focus away from the story and characters. Even in the finale, which is filled with some truly massive effects (as well as hefty cross-cutting between past and future), the story's over-the-top emotional core stays front and center. 

Like last month's Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Days of Future Past succeeds because it bucks two major trends found in big-budget spectacles: being overly glib so that no drama interrupts the spectacle, or trying so desperately to be dramatic that all fun is squeezed out. Though Days of Future Past does reset the chessboard for the franchise, it still works as its own self-contained (albeit open-ended) adventure, one with an engaging story and engaging characters worth following. What could have been a jumbled, incoherent mess is, thankfully, one of the most assured and accomplished superhero films to date. As much as the franchise has stumbled over the past few years, Days of Future Past shows that when they're on their A-game, the X-Men are among the best in the business.

Grade: B+

Review: "American Hustle"

Director: David O. Russell
Runtime: 128 minutes

About halfway through David O. Russell's American Hustle, I suddenly realized why it all felt so vaguely familiar. Sure, the beginning had a bit of Goodfellas vibe with the tone of its voice-overs and flashbacks, but there was a second ingredient that evaded my grasp. And then it hit me: Ocean's 11. Like Soderbergh's film, Russell's latest feels like an excuse for a bunch of familiar players to get together and make a fun movie with a bunch of heinous, period-appropriate hairdos. Sure, the film is talked about as a possibly big Oscar contender, but it's really more of a laid back heist movie that just happens to have a diamond-studded ensemble. Combine the two aforementioned films and you have a rough approximation of what it's like to watch American Hustle. That is, without any of old-fashioned skill of Scorcese's mafia classic, or the effortless crowd-pleasing of Steven Soderbergh's caper remake. 

A fictionalized take on the FBI's ABSCAM sting operation in the late 70s, American Hustle opens with an attempt at cheekiness: a title card reading, "A lot of this probably happened." The film isn't out to take itself too seriously. Instead, it's content to pack a blandly appealing, toothless sense of humor in a stab at broad accessibility. That said, the title card is hardly an unforgivable sin. That's where the voice over comes in. Covering not one, not two, but three different characters, American Hustle's voice over is some of the most ill-conceived since the opening of The Descendants. The saving grace of the latter film is that after the first 15 minutes, George Clooney shut up. The three-pronged vocal assault here - from Christian Bale, Amy Adams, and Bradley Cooper - may not be constant, but it does pop up across the entire film, which spans a little more than two hours. 

Suffice it to say that the film's first quarter is easily its weakest. There's a lot of ground to cover, with everything from childhoods to personal motivations blasted through, all at the expense of a proper anchoring in the characters. We've got schlubby con man Irving Rosenfeld (Bale), his mistress Sydney Prosser (Adams), and Richie DiMaso (Cooper), the FBI agent who eventually manipulates the pair, all competing for our attention, which gets the film off to a jumbled start. Aside from an amusing opening bit with Irving arranging his labyrinthine combover, there's little to latch on to, seeing as so much information is simply being thrown our way.

But while we're on the subject of hair, it's worth noting that American Hustle does have a great deal of fun with with its characters' coiffures. Adams and Jennifer Lawrence (as Irving's alcoholic shut-in of a wife) are largely spared, save for when the former goes to a party with Janice Soprano hair, being the victims of follicular atrocities. The men are less fortunate. In addition to Bale's combover, there's also Cooper's hilariously tiny and tight set of curls, a nice externalizing of his finicky  tightly wound persona, and Jeremy Renner's bouffant, which may possess its own gravitational pull. 

Like some vicious bit of aesthetic justice, the men's looks are made to suffer, even as the women remain dressed up and lightly objectified (every other one of Adams' outfits bares quite a bit of skin). When Sydney compliments Richie on his perm, the moment comes across like a bit of meta commentary. She seems to find it attractive, but when she references the amount of effort he puts into such a 'do, it's difficult not to laugh.

It's the sort of humor that Russell has retained and broadened over the course of his last few films (including The Fighter and Silver Linings Playbook). There are dramatic scenes here (the best of which belong to Adams, in wildly different scenarios), but American Hustle isn't out to plumb the depths of its characters and their morally grey world. It's all a bunch of star-powered razzle dazzle that only momentarily catches fire. It's a film caught between giving its actors room to play off of each other, while also trying to keep its plot moving forward, only without the level of detail that might have made for a more compelling narrative. 

So, as fun as it is to see these stars play dress up and spout moderately amusing dialogue, the film as a whole can't help but feel lacking. As a drama, it never has stakes necessary to generate tension (save for one last minute, and very fun, twist). As a caper-comedy, it's too removed from the specifics of its plot to feel like there's much of anything really going on. And, as a character study, it's far too thin. The hairstyles are, frankly, often more fun to pay attention to. And as much as Russell throws in dolly zooms on his actors' faces, American Hustle never truly takes flight the way his last two films did. The closest that American Hustle comes to capturing the fire of The Fighter or Silver Linings is in a brief bit of physical comedy involving Lawrence drunkenly singing along to the Bond theme "Live and Let Die." Unfortunately, like the movie as a whole, the moment is only superficially engaging, and ultimately superfluous, despite its best intentions.

Grade: C+

AFI Fest Review: "Silver Linings Playbook"

Director: David O. Russell
Runtime: 122 minutes

Dissect the whole of David O. Russell's Silver Linings Playbook, and you'll find a bunch of individual pieces that belong in either an unbearably cheesy romantic comedy or a shoddy Lifetime movie. Put all of these pieces into O. Russell's hands as both writer and director, and thrown in an outstanding cast, and you have one of the year's best surprises. Though Playbook does at times let its rom-com cliches get the better of it, the film maintains a steady course that mixes indie sensibilities with broad emotional appeal. Following 2010's The Fighter, this is yet another more accessible film from the brash writer/director. And, thankfully, O. Russell has hit the sweet spot, even as he veers closer to lightweight territory.

Based on Matthew Quick's novel of the same name, Playbook is the sort of comedy/drama hybrid that knows how to deftly mix the light and the heavy emotional components with ease. Pat (Bradley Cooper), recently on leave from a mental institution after a violent breakdown, is struggling to readjust to life with his parents (Robert DeNiro and Jacki Weaver). Pat is convinced that, assuming he can find a way to prove that he has changed, he can win back his wife Nikki (Brea Bee). Along the way, he meets Tiffany (Jennifer Lawrence), the sister-in-law of a close friend, who has had similar issues with mental health. Several awkward encounters later, Tiffany and Pat are working together to enter a couples' dance competition, which Pat hopes will prove his supposed newfound sense of discipline and emotional control. 

The buildup to the dance subplot, however, is where O. Russell and his actors succeed most. As in The Fighter, the family and friends that populate this film love each other, but also have their fair share of battle scars and hot tempers. Instead of mundane soap opera hysterics, however, we get scenes that, through turns funny and dramatic, keep the characters on an emotional high wire. So even though the comedy isn't likely to make you double over in hysteria, it comes from such a situational, organic place that the film never feels like it's straining for comedy to break up the drama. And, as loud as the characters can become, with anywhere from four to eight voices shouting over each other, the emotional fireworks have genuine heat to them. Whether Pat is ranting about his disdain for Ernest Hemingway, or awkwardly attempting to converse with Tiffany, O. Russell's sharp eye finds the truth in the characters, never letting them descend into caricatures (even Chris Tucker, which is saying something).

Much of this also comes down to the stellar work from the cast. Mr. Cooper, best known for the two Hangover films as well as Limitless, sheds his typical smug swagger and digs deep into Pat. It's both a leading man turn and a work of striking character detailing that should, hopefully allow Cooper to start unlocking his potential as a performer. Whether he's manic, angry, or blatantly disregarding normal social skills, Pat comes through so clearly as a character that his sharp shifts in mood never feel strained or contrived. The same can be said for Lawrence, who, whether by herself or interacting with Pat, feels so much like a fully-drawn person that she avoids becoming a gritty version of a manic pixie dream girl. Watching the two interact together, both troubled, both overcoming different losses, is the film's highlight. Some developments in the plot may feel a little rushed (the dance training basically consists of one montage), but the two central performances keep everything so wonderfully grounded that it only becomes apparent once the lights go up and the credits roll.

With so much excellent ground work in regards to the characters, the film carries a tremendous energy through, never flagging even as it hits a handful of predictable notes in the final act. So much of Pat and Tiffany's relationship has such an in-the-moment back and forth that the last minute moments of "will they or won't they" tension can't help but feel like a desperate appeal for broad appeal. No such appeal is necessary, as the characters, warts and all, prove so lively and engaging on multiple levels. Yet, perhaps inevitably, the more banal rom-com pieces of the puzzle eventually rear their bland heads. As such, the film ends too neatly. Like The Fighter, Silver Linings Playbook moves along with excellent emotional edginess its entire way through, only to conclude on an unitive ending that matches the story in tone, yet still feels out of place. It's as if, in the final minutes, O. Russell forgot to suppress the aspects of the film that rob it of its otherwise distinct status among romantic comedies. 

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: "Like Crazy"

Perhaps a better title for Like Crazy, the Sundance favorite from debut director Drake Doremus, would have been Crazy, Stupid Love, with an extra emphasis on the ‘stupid’ part. Despite Doremus’ earnest efforts as co-writer and director, and the generally solid work from his cast, there’s something rotten at the core of how he treats his characters. What starts as an attempt at an honest and heartfelt examination of young love tested by separation gradually devolves into a classic case of characters being allowed to do whatever they want, as the audience is expected to feel that it’s justified.

After a quick meet-cute between T. A. Jacob (Anton Yelchin) and student Anna (Felicity Jones) in class, the pair very quickly fall head-over-heels for each other. Things are going along just fine, until Anna makes the decision to overstay her student visa for the summer (as opposed to returning to England for two months so it can be renewed). And it's at this very moment when Like Crazy starts its downward spiral. To summarize, this very simple, very stupid decision turns the couple's period of separation from one or two months to one of several years.

Yet Doremus insists on treating his characters as incapable of ever being guilty of anything more than minor transgressions. One could find plausible reasons for Anna’s forsaking of the imposing Stuart, but Jacob’s treatment of his temporary girlfriend (Jennifer Lawrence) is abysmal. That the pair’s love is supposed to be worth all of this only makes the viewing experience more unpleasant. Only in the film’s final scene does Doremus give some hint that Jacob and Anna have changed too much to be compatible once more, but it’s an ambiguous conclusion, and not an effective one at all. Doremus falls into the classic trap of making the film entirely about the central duo’s relationship, meaning that every misstep hurts the film more than it would were there a minimally larger plot.

It’s a shame, because some the performers are trying. Jones and Lawrence are especially effective, the former because she sells her character despite some of things she does, and the latter earns sympathy despite limited screentime. However, it’s probably not a good thing when you have more sympathy for a character with less than 15 minutes of screen time than one of the leads. Which brings us to Mr. Yelchin. Having given a strong performance earlier this year in The Beaver (which also featured Lawrence as a love interest for him), Yelchin disappoints here. Doremus doesn’t make him an interesting figure whatsoever. He’s simply there, little more than a sounding board for Anna’s problems, problems which she brought upon herself. In the end, it’s all not worth caring about. Those who have recently been in a passionate relationship may find something powerful in Doremus’ depiction of troubled love. The rest of us, however, will likely be left indifferent at how the director uses the film to make the statement that when you meet your soul mate, you can get away with almost anything in the name of love.

Grade: C

Review: "X-Men: First Class"

Forget what they've been telling you. Turns out it's not the third time that's the charm, but the fifth. At least, that appears to be the current trend in past-their-welcome Hollywood franchises. It's already happened once this year with Fast Five (the series' only film to earn mostly positive reviews), and now it's happening again with X-Men: First Class, a prequel/origin-story/reboot of the mutant superhero franchise.

After two generally liked films, the X-Men franchise quickly took a nose dive with X-Men: The Last Stand (2006) and X-Men Origins: Wolverine (2009). And even though there still appear to be plans for a (hopefully much better) Wolverine sequel, FOX apparently felt that it couldn't hurt to cash in on the prequel/origin trend a little further, taking us all the way back to the 40s and 60s. After an opening eerily reminiscent of 2000's X-Men, involving a young Erik/Magneto (Michael Fassbender) in a German concentration camp, we begin a fairly lengthy bit of globe trotting. In one story thread, we see Magneto become something of a Nazi hunter, while in a second, we see a young Charles Xavier (James McAvoy) and Raven/Mystique (Jennifer Lawrence) recruited by a CIA agent (Rose Byrne) to examine the sinister Hellfire Club. Originally thought to be a Communist infiltration of America, it's actually run by Sebastian Shaw (Kevin Bacon), a mutant himself, who is determined to use the Cold War to bring about the annihilation of non-mutants.

And despite a certain lack of surprises (we already know which major characters must live), Matthew Vaughn does manage to inject some style, and in turn new life, into the franchise. The 60s interior designs are richly filled out, in settings ranging from Charles' mansion, to Shaw's nuclear submarine. There's also some surprisingly good cast work. McAvoy and Fassbender are standouts among the ensemble, as two men with gradually differing opinions on what it means to be a mutant living among humans. Fassbender ultimately wins out, if only because the script eventually surrenders McAvoy's role and makes him little more than an emotional support for Fassbender's. Yet the two do have a great chemistry, and it's a shame that the film doesn't give us more of their relationship in its attempt to cover so many characters and set-up points. The way the film deals with Magneto's struggle to harness his powers produces some truly effective moments, but it's hard not to feel that there could have been a much grander, more emotional pay-off if said struggle wasn't stuck on the the end of a training montage.

And it's that montage, which comes right before the film's Cuban-set finale, where we can see some of the film's problems start to surface. First Class has a great initial stretch, up until Magneto and Charles finally meet, and a thrillingly put together final half hour. These bookends to the story effectively jump across locations and characters, establishing conflicts and executing fight scenes with a nice sense of clarity. Everything in-between, however, is not quite so consistent. Despite a golden 5 (10?) second cameo, the round-up and training of the young mutants is where everything gets a bit choppy. Not surprisingly, character struggles aren't exactly the most three dimensional. They exist for a little, and then YAY they're solved. Only those issues connecting Charles, Magneto, and Mystique have any real staying power, and despite some nifty powers among the ensemble, I wish they had taken more time to focus on this trio. For every good character interaction, there's something a little cheesy or clichéd. These usually aren't big issues, but they put some dents in the film's armor.

And as good as some smaller cast members are (Nicolas Hoult as Hank McCoy/Beast), others are, well, not. Case in point: January Jones as Emma Frost. As beautiful as she looks, the actress seems totally out of her league here, once again enforcing the notion that her work as Betty Draper on Mad Men is the only good performance she'll ever give. Less of a distraction, though perhaps a tad puzzling, is Rose Byrne as Moira McTaggart. In Byrne's case, the fault may lie more with the writing. Either way, though, for someone who is supposed to be tough and supportive of the X-Men, she has one too many scenes where her character is simply wide-eyed and astounded. It makes her look weak, and even stupid, despite her status as a CIA Agent. That said, at least she gets some chances to act, whereas many in the ensemble are just there. Azazel (Jason Flemying), a red-skinned mutant with a tail and the ability to teleport is more of a cool effect than a character. He still fares better than another henchman of Shaw's, who can create tornadoes, yet never gets a single line.

For all of its little faults, however, Vaughn and co. do deserve credit for restoring quality to a franchise that had taken a serious tumble. In putting more emphasis on exploring (some of) the characters, he's able to inject some scenes with a sense of purpose. When Magneto lifts a submarine clear out of the water, it's more than just a special effect. It's a moment of triumph for the character, one that is built upon his ability to master the trauma of his past. Scenes like this show First Class at its best, and what the series is capable of when some real effort and talent is behind the material. So while this latest installment may be far from perfect, and certainly not the best super hero film, it's a solid (re) kickstart to the franchise, even if it doesn't quite reach its full potential.

Grade: B-

Review: "The Beaver"

If ever there was a star-vehicle that had the odds against it, it was The Beaver, Jodie Foster's first directorial effort in 16 years. The story, put simply, is that of family man Walter Black (Mel Gibson) who uses a hand puppet to help himself out of a downward spiral. It's the sort of material that raised eyebrows from the very beginning, and not in a good way. Initial on-set images showed Gibson in jogging gear running with a beaver puppet on one hand. Internet reactions were, to put it mildly, not kind. And perhaps that initial skepticism was somewhat deserved, because, like Black Swan, The Beaver is a film that could have been a laughable mess in the wrong hands. Thankfully, under Foster's guidance, Kyle Killen's script blossoms into a solid film filled with nice work from a talented cast.

Rather than take time chronicling Walter's journey to rock bottom, the film starts us off with him already there. It's not even 15 (maybe not even 10) minutes in before Walter discovers the puppet, and even less time before he brings his British (Australian?) alter-ego to life. Such a quick set-up left me wondering how long the film could keep up its momentum, even at a 90 minute run time. But Killen's script, as aided by Foster's clean direction, knows what it's doing, and the film never lags or becomes aimless. Despite the potentially weighty subject matter, The Beaver flows beautifully from scene to scene, and Foster handles the shifts between light comedy and drama expertly. Killen's treatment may not necessarily be the deepest exploration of depression/schizophrenia, but it still rings true, despite the seemingly outlandish conceit.

Adding to the film's success is the terrific cast. Gibson does strong work as a man trying to distance himself from the dark side of his personality. The performance never condescends, and Gibson's recent troubles, for better or for worse, help give the performance a truly lived-in feel a la Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler. However, if there's one hindrance Gibson has to deal with, it's that he spends so much of the movie behind the puppet, which can make the performance seem too light. As Walter's wife, Jodie Foster delivers another solid performance, making her double duties as director and star seem effortless, and making this writer wish she would appear on screen more frequently. Winter's Bone star Jennifer Lawrence does a nice job as well, albeit with less to do, as a local girl who starts up a relationship with Gibson and Foster's son, played by Anton Yelchin (Star Trek).

I've saved Mr. Yelchin for last because he is, surprisingly, the film's acting highlight. Believe it or not, the script saves the most characterization and depth for Yelchin's role, a high school senior who has made his life's goal to divorce himself of any similarities he shares with his father. This is complimented by a subplot wherein his character writes essays for fellow students, doing his best to get inside their heads so he can write with their voices. The subplot may not be entirely resolved by the film's end, but it certainly rounds out the movie's, especially when the struggles of Foster's character sometimes feel shortchanged. Like Foster, Ms. Lawrence is also in a role that isn't used to its full potential, and a subplot involving her passion for graffiti art isn't fleshed out enough to matter as much as the film wants us to believe it does.

But whatever faults the screenplay may have, The Beaver, against all the odds, is a success. It doesn't sink into melodrama with its treatment of mental illness. Rather, it takes a lighter route while remaining respectful, which aids the overall effect. Bolstered by strong work from the cast, and Foster's level direction, The Beaver is a classic example of a potentially troublesome screenplay brought effortlessly to life with respect and care.

Grade: B

"Winter's Bone" - REVIEW

My disappointment for the weekend continued last night with Debra Granik's (curiously) acclaimed Sundance hit Winter's Bone. The definition of a bare-bones type film, Granik spends forever stuck in first gear, and never ends up going anywhere. Ree Dolly (Jennifer Lawrence), who lives somewhere in the Ozarks, quickly learns that her father is due in court, and if he does not show, the Dolly family could be out of a home. This is bad news for Ree, who at 17 is left to take care of her mentally ill mother and younger siblings. While Granik starts the film off just fine with scenes that do a nice, understated job of depicting the harshness of a world where life doesn't mean all that much, she forgets that her story actually has to, well, go somewhere. Winter's Bone is supposed to be a mystery, but by the time that nearly an hour out of 1 hr 40 min has passed, all that Ree has really done is try and find a first lead to try and track down her dad. And while the editing for those first 45-60 minutes is remarkable, it becomes slightly frustrating, even as more significant events take place, because there's never a feeling of growth in the story; we start in square one, and never for an instant move past it, resulting in a somewhat misshapen story. The film also makes the mistake of revealing a potential outcome too early on, only to have it come completely true without ever presenting alternatives, rendering the whole thing slightly aimless. Out of the cast, there's been much buzz about star Jennifer Lawrence and John Hawkes (as Ree's surly uncle), and while Lawrence is nice, it's hardly worthy of the awards attention that some are clamoring for. She's at her best when understated and tough, but has a few moments where there are hints that she's trying to add the slightest touch of theatricality to her delivery, and it doesn't work. Hawkes on the other hand, is totally mystifying. As uncle Teardrop, Hawkes is stuck in a one-note role that requires him to do little other than glower and speak in a gravely "serious" voice. It's a shame that Granik, who is perhaps best known for giving Vera Farmiga her indie-breakout role in Down to the Bone, didn't take the risk and raise the stakes of Ree's investigation. Whether from personal experience or simply hands-on research, Granik certainly captures the toughness of the Ozarks, but she fails to inject them with the ingredients for an engrossing story, as sparse as it is, rendering the more intense moments only mildly engaging at best. While its central character may be a tough-but-likable character, Granik's film doesn't have enough (beware the awful pun) meat on its bones to weave a tale that's actually engrossing.

Grade: B-