Review: "Zero Dark Thirty"

Director: Kathryn Bigelow
Runtime: 157 minutes

It's difficult to write about Kathryn Bigelow's Osama Bin Laden drama Zero Dark Thirty after what's happened over the past few weeks. With the reviews, the controversies, and the responses to said controversies, what on earth is left to say? Well, let's start with the basics: it's a really damn impressive piece of film making that stands tall in a year filled with diverse narratives.

If you've missed any coverage of the film whatsoever, the story essentials are little more than the fictionalized account of the decade-long hunt to locate and kill Osama Bin Laden. And even though Bigelow's film, which reunites her with The Hurt Locker scribe Mark Boal, runs over 2.5 hours, Zero Dark Thirty knows how to make every moment count. Whereas The Hurt Locker truly was a character study, Zero is much more of a procedural set against our so-called War on Terror. 

Yet even though the center of the story, Jessica Chastain's Maya, is often reserved and completely consumed by her job, Bigelow and Boal haven't forgotten to make her a character as well. When Maya first enters, she's practically a blank slate. Fresh off of the plane in Pakistan, Maya witnesses the much-discussed torture of a detainee. To answer the question of whether or not the film glorifies torture, I'll merely offer this much: Maya has no problem telling a detainee that giving honest answers will make his life easier, but she doesn't exactly look on with icy approval as she watches that detainee suffer at the hands of CIA agent Dan (Jason Clarke). What Bigelow and Boal have pulled off, along with Jessica Chastain's work in front of the camera, is one person's journey from being an outsider doing an uncomfortable job, to becoming unwavering in her determination to see everything through. 

Where Zero Dark Thirty could have been simplistic, sugar-coated, and jingoistic, it is instead meticulous, blunt, and intense, without emotional manipulation. One could accuse the film of trying too hard to be objective, but that all gets blow away by the film's masterstroke: the raid on Bin Laden's compound in Abbottabad. Bigelow's strength comes from her ability to generate tension without going overboard, and the tactic pays off grandly here. The raid is intense, but not without the appropriate grimness (women shot and killed, children left crying and alone, etc...). Yet best of all is the treatment of Bin Laden's death. In different hands, such a moment would be completely overwrought. Bigelow and Boal, however, allow the death to unfold in a relatively anti-climactic fashion that couldn't be more fitting for the movie's tone and themes. Yes, the SEALs got the "bad guy," but what now? Where do they have to go next? What repercussions could this death have? Answering those questions would need a completely different film, yet it's important that Zero doesn't wrap everything up so neatly that it gives a sense of complete and total closure.

However, the film does allow the right level of closure for Maya. Chastain is mostly front and center here, and turns in another performance that capitalizes on her wide emotional range. As reserved as Maya often is, Chastain's work never feels lazy, and just because she's putting up a poker face doesn't mean she's not present. If anything, it means the exact opposite. Being present and listening is what Maya does in order to inch towards her goal, through every disappointment and disaster. The rest of the ensemble turn in perfectly convincing work, although few truly have much to work with. Stand outs from the supporting cast include the above-mentioned Clarke, as well as Jennifer Ehle as an older, more experienced operative. 

But at the end of the day, the film is mostly a showcase for Chastain to quietly carry the film, and for Bigelow's extraordinary storytelling and atmosphere to shine through. The aesthetic may be roughly the same as The Hurt Locker, but there's no way to walk out of Zero Dark Thirty and think that she's made the same movie twice. The Hurt Locker used its characters to paint a portrait of various kinds of soldiers. With Zero Dark Thirty, Bigelow moves a step up the ladder in terms of authority. She's looking at the people behind the scenes, the little pieces that have to be assembled before the troops undertake missions like the Abbottabad raid. In doing so, Zero Dark Thirty, which opens with audio from 9-1-1 calls on 9/11, feels applicable to a wider range of people, because of how it weaves in the broader implications of the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. It takes us from the moment of no return, all the way through an act of collective revenge, one that ellicits not cheers and grins, but solemn contemplation on what happened to us as a nation, and what we did, for better and for worse, because of those actions.

Grade: A/A-

Review: "Compliance"

Director: Craig Zobel
Runtime: 90 minutes

Craig Zobel's Compliance acts as a perfect counterweight to Ben Affleck's Argo. Both films are rooted in true stories, yet their difference in tone, scale, and execution are worlds apart. Argo succeeds because of its first rate Hollywood craftsmanship, while Zobel's film, despite its share of imperfections, works because of how flash-free intimacy. Unsettling, but never over the top or manipulative, Compliance is a gripping true-life thriller that paints a troubling portrait of how easily our resolve can crumble at the suggestion of authority.

Set in a small town, Compliance takes place largely over a single day at a fictional fast food restaurant. Manager Sandra (Ann Dowd) has had an unpleasant start to her day, so she quietly takes it out on her staff by lecturing them about proper procedure and responsibility. Yet minutes later, she slides into a conversation in an attempt to feel like she's truly on the same level as her underlings. Among her staff is Becky (Dreama Walker), a solid employee who usually does her best when at work. Things take an unexpected turn, however, when Sandra receives a call from a man claiming to be Officer Daniels (Pat Healy) with the local police. Daniels insists that a member of Sandra's staff, which turns out to be Becky, stole money directly out of a customer's purse earlier in the day. He asks Sandra to detain Becky until he or a co-worker arrives.

The strength of Compliance lies in how it (usually) keeps its events grounded on the narrative's small scale. This is not a hostage drama (well, not exactly), nor is it an unrelenting assault of human cruelty. Daniels' increasingly disturbing instructions progress with a sense of logic that makes sense. The situation starts innocently enough, but eventually evolves into something more sinister.

Where the film trips up comes down to how it balances character with the situation. We know these events (perhaps not exactly, but in the general sense) happened, yet Compliance doesn't go quite deep enough to provide a look at Sandra's rationale. The obvious question is, even with 'Daniels' masquerading as a police officer, why would Sandra (or the others brought in to watch over Becky) barely put up any resistance to the more extreme instructions? The ensemble is strong, and Dowd is truly excellent, but there are times when the slight thinness of the characters sticks out, even as the actors deliver on the emotional front. Spelled-out, direct answers would have been disastrous, but Compliance's script could have used a few more deftly inserted hints to give us a deeper understanding. The actors still make the most of the material. We may not know quite enough about their personalities, but we get a strong sense of where they are in the moment, which pays off nicely. Dowd is the true MVP, however, as her briefly sketched out character details add up the most upon reflection. The actress hits a home run as Sandra, capturing the subtle shifts the character undergoes without turning her into a wrathful, two-faced schemer.

Zobel's direction largely makes up for the flaws in the film's writing, and the scenes, most of which involve at least someone against against a phone, are never overheated. Most impressive is his treatment of the film's more unpleasant scenes, which arrive in the last act. Zobel allows the images to tell us enough, yet never shows too much or allows the icky stuff to feel sleazy. And, despite a simplistic color palette, DP Adam Stone gives the film an appropriately dim, but never rough or lazy, look. Less successful is the score. Its first appearance gets the film off on the right track, yet all following uses often feel grating and overbearing. It's in this one area that Compliance feels like it's trying to become a much bigger story than it really is.

Yet even though Zobel's film, his second feature, has its share of problems, it also has enough worth praising that it's worth a look. The pacing occasionally lags in the second act, but the naturally developed atmosphere is more than admirably executed. Throw in a mostly compelling screenplay and a handful of gripping performances, and you have one of 2012's hidden gems. Zobel never quite expands his vision enough to satisfyingly explore issues regarding authority and obedience, yet he captures the specific narrative with enough successes that Compliance still feels complete, albeit rather slight.

Grade: B-

2013 Oscar Predictions (minus shorts, docs, and techs)

With the Academy Award nominations arriving on January 10th, roughly two weeks earlier than usual, it's time to finally process the deluge of guilds and critics awards to try and churn out some half-decent predictions. The last major group, The BAFTAs, announced their nominees this morning, leaving only the Academy (tomorrow also marks the first televised award show: the Critics Choice Awards). As with the past few years (since the Best Picture field was widened to 10, and then made more fluid to allow between five and 10 nominees), there are plenty of sure bets, yet most categories have room for surprise nominees, left-field picks, and major snubs. Below is, to the best of my ability, a glimpse at what films and names will be read off tomorrow morning by Seth MacFarlane and Emma Stone (barring the short films and technical categories).

Best Picture:
Lincoln
Zero Dark Thirty
Les Miserables
Argo
Silver Linings Playbook
Life of Pi
Amour

Most Vulnerable: Amour (by a huge margin)
Alternates: Beasts of the Southern Wild, Moonrise Kingdom, Django Unchained, The Master

Best Director:
Steven Spielberg - Lincoln
Kathryn Bigelow - Zero Dark Thirty
Ben Affleck - Argo
Ang Lee - Life of Pi
Tom Hooper - Les Miserables

Most Vulnerable: Lee or Hooper
Alternates: Michael Haneke (Amour), Quentin Tarantino (Django), David O. Russell (Silver Linings), Wes Anderson (Moonrise Kingdom)

Best Actor:
Daniel Day-Lewis - Lincoln
Hugh Jackman - Les Miserables
Denzel Washington - Flight
Bradley Cooper - Silver Linings Playbook
John Hawkes - The Sessions

Most Vulnerable: Bradley Cooper
Alternates: Joaquin Phoenix (The Master)

Best Actress:
Jessica Chastain - Zero Dark Thirty
Jennifer Lawrence - Silver Linings Playbook
Emmanuelle Riva - Amour
Naomi Watts - The Impossible
Marion Cotillard - Rust and Bone

Most Vulnerable: Emmanuelle Riva
Alternates: Helen Mirren (Hitchcock), Rachel Weisz (The Deep Blue Sea), Quevenzhane Wallis (Beasts of the Southern Wild)

Best Supporting Actor:
Tommy Lee Jones - Lincoln
Alan Arkin - Argo
Christoph Waltz - Django Unchained
Leonardo DiCaprio - Django Unchained
Robert DeNiro - Silver Linings Playbook

Most Vulnerable: Robert DeNiro
Alternates: Philip Seymour Hoffman (The Master), Javier Bardem (Skyfall), Eddie Redmayne (Les Miserables), Samuel L. Jackson (Django Unchained)

Best Supporting Actress:
Anne Hathaway - Les Miserables
Sally Field - Lincoln
Helen Hunt - The Sessions
Ann Dowd - Compliance
Maggie Smith - The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel

Most Vulnerable: Ann Dowd
Alternates: Amy Adams (The Master), Nicole Kidman (The Paperboy), Maggie Smith (Quartet)

Best Original Screenplay:
Zero Dark Thirty
Django Unchained
Moonrise Kingdom
Amour
Flight

Most Vulnerable: Amour
Alternates: Looper, The Master

Best Adapted Screenplay:
Lincoln
Argo
Silver Linings Playbook
Life of Pi
The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel

Most Vulnerable: The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel
Alternates: The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Beasts of the Southern Wild

Best Animated Film:
Frankenweenie
Paranorman
Wreck-It Ralph
Rise of the Guardians
Brave

Best Foreign Language Film:
Amour [Austria]
The Intouchables [France]
A Royal Affair [Denmark]
Kon-Tiki [Norway]
No [Chile]

"The Wire" (2002 - 2008)

Much to my embarassment, I only got around to watching HBO's acclaimed series The Wire recently. And by "recently," I mean this morning. I don't usually write about TV aside from a post or two about the Emmys, but seeing as David Simon's series struck a chord with me, I felt that writing this came rather naturally. So, here it is. One thing that no one is really asking for: a review of a five-season show that ended in 2008.

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 I’m going to try and keep this short(ish), because I usually find writing about TV weird. Why? No idea. Anyway, I’d heard great things about HBO’s drama The Wire for quite some time. Somewhere during my senior year of high school, I decided to finally start renting the series. I made it through four episodes, and I was just starting to really adjust to the show’s style and pacing, when, for some reason, I kept putting off with the show. Flash forward roughly four years and, thanks to the magic of HBOGo (you’re welcome), I picked up right where I left off. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for me to get back into David Simon’s world.

What’s most immediately impressive to me after finishing the series finale (literally only hours ago) is the above-mentioned world. TV has the benefit of being able to explore both characters and setting at a more gradual pace than film, and no show has made the most of that the way The Wire has. By the time the series segues into its final minutes, you come to realize how much the city of Baltimore is as big a character as McNulty, Kima, or Stringer Bell. 

Even more striking, in retrospect, is how the show covers different facets of the city without feeling forced. The jumps from the streets, to the ports, through the legal system, and finally to the media are structured by season, but it never becomes overly conceptual. The progression, especially from seasons three through five, is executed so seamlessly that I’m tempted to label the show one of the most consistent dramas I’ve ever seen. Episode to episode and season to season, The Wire is that rare show that gives off the feeling that the entire thing was intricately, immaculately planned out before the first episode aired.

The only rough patch among the bunch, if any, is perhaps the transition between the first and second seasons. Characters and arcs reappear across multiple seasons in The Wire, but the way certain aspects come in and out of focus in season two feels a little extreme. After getting adjusted to the show and becoming involved with the plot and characters of the first season, seeing said plot and characters pushed to the background to make way for the port stories caused the pacing to drag. Obviously McNulty, Lester, Kima, Bunk, and their co-workers remained prominent, but the other side (Stringer, Avon, etc…) seemed to pop up all too infrequently. On its own merits, season two probably succeeds much more, but coming after the set-up of season one, the port-related plots sometimes drag.

Yet once season three starts and we jump back to the streets, everything comes together with stunning execution for the rest of the ride. By the end of season one, I was aware that I was invested in the characters. Yet Simon grounds their personalities so deeply in their work that you often don’t realize how much you care until some little moment comes along and makes you smile, or laugh, or get a lump in your throat. That the series does this without resorting to melodrama is even more of an accomplishment.

The performances, all around, are wonderful. The chemistry between and among the ensemble is what really sells it all, and allows various characters’ rises and falls register with sincerity. With an ensemble this wonderful, I hate to pick favorite, but let’s just say I was always paying attention the most whenever Lester, Kima, or Carcetti were on screen. That said, my favorite individual moment of the entire show has to come in season four, when Bunk notes that Beadie trusts McNulty, and McNulty smiles back and his friend and confirms the statement. Of course, there’s always Clay Davis’ pronunciation of the word “shit,” if only for the laugh factor. Yet the show still deserves credit for the portrayal of its characters placed firmly outside of the law, as it never resorts to making them into over the top villains. Like the police and government officials, they remain people first. It’s a vision of both sides of anti-drug enforcement that is rarely achieved on the big or small screen.

The show also knew how to incorporate violence, and never rushed through scenes in order for a gun to go off. Quite the opposite. This is a layered, steadily paced character-drama to the bone. HBO sometimes ventures into self-parody with the levels of sex and violence it shows, which only makes The Wire’s execution stand out more. When violence hits, it’s never overblown. Like the rest of the show, shootings and beatings feel completely natural, and they pack an appropriately grim mix of intensity and shock.

And, from a strictly storytelling perspective, I adore how Simon and his collaborators executed such a dense narrative without ever really holding the audience’s hand. This is a show where every scene really mattered, because some name or piece of information that popped up in episode two could wind up being part of a major development five episodes later. Even the gradually divergent subplot of Bubbles (Andre Royo) felt necessary, and its arc is among the series’ most satisfying.

Ultimately, this is a rare breed of TV show. It treats its audiences like adults, refrains from melodrama or sensationalizing, and yet still boasts memorable characters (I can’t believe I almost forgot to mention OMAR), and stirring drama. Simon’s show simply puts itself within the broader canvas of its setting. The developments for the characters and the story are important, and we understand how they are important to the people on screen. But, at the end of the day, The Wire has enough intelligence to give its subject matter a conclusion that befits its consistent treatment across five seasons and 60 episodes. In a simple montage that all-but concludes the series finale, we see how so much has changed, and yet so much still remains the same. I didn’t really follow through on my promise to keep this short, but at this point I don’t care. Masterworks like this deserve more than a few sentences.

Season One: B+/A-

Season Two: B+

Season Three: A

Season Four: A+

Season Five: A

Series Grade: A

Review: "Sleepwalk With Me"

Director: Mike Birbiglia
Runtime: 90 minutes

Some films leave you feeling triumphant, some move you to tears, some horrify you, and some enrage you (whether because of content or execution). And then there are films like Sleepwalk With Me. This adaptation of comedian Mike Birbiglia's autobiographical stand-up routine is...well...a film. There are actors present. They say lines. The sound is perfectly clear and audible. The images are clear enough. And yet, even as low-budget character studies go, Birbiglia's directing debut doesn't feel like much of anything. I can't say I hated it, because it gave me nothing to hate, just as I can't express any sort of admiration because there was also nothing to admire. One would think that a film with a dream sequence that involves the protagonist being doused in pizza sauce would be worthy of some reactions here and there. Not the case. For better and for worse, Sleepwalk With Me merely exists. And that's all I have to say about that.

Grade: Q

Review: "Sound of My Voice"

Director: Zal Batmanglij
Runtime: 84 minutes

In 2011, the independent scene saw the rise of a potential breakout talent named Brit Marling. Marling's sci-fi drama Another Earth (which she co-wrote) became a major talking point at Sundance, and the film was released theatrically later in the same year, to mixed reception. She hasn't gone unnoticed. In addition to appearing in 2012's Arbitrage, she is set to appear in Robert Redford's next film, and has begun lining up plenty of other projects. Yet despite her discovery, Marling hasn't completely left behind the low-budget indie aesthetic that brought her into the festival circuit spotlight. Like Another Earth, 2012's Sound of My Voice is written by (and stars) Marling, and plays as a drama tinged with loose sci-fi elements. And, like Another Earth, Sound has its problems, even as it marks a progression in overall consistency and narrative intrigue.

If anything, Sound of My Voice is the "broader" of Marling's two indie projects. Where Another Earth used science fiction to explore issues of chance and confronting one's past, Sound is grounded in a more thriller-oriented narrative. Young couple Peter (Argo's Christopher Denham) and Lorna (Nicole Vicius) decide to to infiltrate a burgeoning cult hidden somewhere in Los Angeles, and then expose it with secret footage. After receiving instructions to prepare themselves, they are led to the cult's heaquarters, where the meet the elusive leader, Maggie (Marling). Maggie claims to be from the year 2054, and though she doesn't know how she's traveled back in time (the film is set in 2010), she's made it her mission to help a select group of disciples spiritually prepare themselves for an upcoming "journey."

What Sound of My Voice gets right is its depiction of the small cult at the center of the story. From the daffy rituals (that handshake if kind of cool, though), to Maggie's vague philosophical posturing, one can see how susceptible minds would be in awe of her. Even as we identify with Peter and Lorna's skepticism (which is present before they even set foot in the cult's HQ), Maggie as a character still casts her own spell as she gently manipulates her blind disciples. This is in large part thanks to Marling's portrayal of Maggie. Accuse the writer/actress of vanity all you want (granted, some of it is probably valid), but in this film she's firmly out to prove herself as more than a pretty face. Her roles in Another Earth and Sound aren't terribly reliant on expressiveness, yet the actress is able to work quiet wonders with her vocal inflections. Maggie's first appearance feels a little too monotone, but the more time we spend with her, the more magnetic the character becomes, even as we continue to hold her story in immense skepticism. 

Yet if Marling's performance gives the film (which only runs 84 minutes) an intriguing center, her work with Zal Batmanglij on the screenplay is less consistent. Unlike Another Earth, which established that its sci-fi conceit was very real in the opening minutes, Sound wades into purposefully uncertain territory. But instead of an intriguing back-and-forth, it's difficult to overcome one's initial doubt in nearly everything Maggie says. Where the film could easily lose its way is when Peter begins to find himself actually entertaining the possibility that Maggie isn't lying. The scene where Maggie gets under Peter's skin is well-played by both actors, but there isn't quite enough grounding the moment to make us question our own doubts. We remain die-hard skeptics even as the movie wants to tease us with 84 minutes of "is she or isn't she?" 

That's why Sound's journey is more compelling than its individual parts, or its destination for that matter. Cult mindsets fascinate us for good reason, and watching Maggie hold such sway over her wide-eyed followers is what makes the film worth sticking with. Maggie displays no overt malice, yet there is still a palpable disease we feel at seeing someone control people so easily. That she mostly does it with such a reserved, soothing demeanor is even more unsettling. 

In the end, however, the flaws of the screenplay do eventually start to build up and, coupled with the ending, prove frustrating rather than satisfyingly mysterious. There's a subplot involving Peter's relationship with his deceased mother that has potential, yet it's handled so quickly that there's no time for it to accumulate weight. We spend so much time with our eyes on Maggie that the deeper concerns regarding Peter and Lorna's identities start to fall by the wayside. Denham and Vicius handle the material capably, but it ultimately feels rather thin. Maggie may ultimately be a supporting role, but it's all too clear that the screenplay cares perhaps too much about her character. 

Even as Sound of My Voice starts to firmly throw some validation to the skeptics, it feels as though it's rushing towards a conclusion, further at the expense of plausibility. Batmanglij and Marling seem convinced that they've earned enough suspension of disbelief that they can throw caution to the wind in the last 15 minutes, and at times it's more irritating that intriguing. Finally, there's the matter of the open conclusion. I won't spoil a thing, but I will say that it comes off as a slightly overblown way of allowing the story to have its cake and eat it too. 

In the immediate moment the ending is compelling, but as time passes and the credits scroll in front of you, the more you feel as though you've just been led on an elaborate tease, rather than an appropriately complex and subtle mystery. Whatever debates Sound of My Voice provokes about Maggie's story will likely give way to quibbles about the film's narrative decisions rather quickly. That doesn't stop large portions of the film from being enjoyable, but it does limit the film. Though more immediately gripping than Another Earth, Sound of My Voice is hindered by issues in its screenplay that make its vague sci-fi pieces feel more like narrative cheats.

Grade: B-

Review: "The Impossible"

Director: J.A. Bayona
Runtime: 114 minutes

It's not easy making a movie about a tragedy, especially if said tragedy occurred less than a decade ago. There's the danger of cheap exploitation, and not just within the emotional confines of the story. And that's what makes J.A. Bayona's The Impossible, which is by no means flawless, such a noteworthy achievement. At the end of the day, people were paid to make a movie about very real (and far-reaching) devastation, suffering, and loss. Yet Bayona and his collaborators deserve credit for telling this true story with a level of maturity and respect that avoids turning the 2004 tsunami into overwrought, sensationalist entertainment.

Opening two days before the tsunami, Bayona's film centers on Maria and Henry Bennett (Naomi Watts and Ewan McGregor), a British couple vacationing in Thailand with their sons Lucas (Tom Holland), Thomas (Samuel Joslin), and Simon (Oaklee Pendergast). After enjoying a lovely Christmas morning, the family partakes in a number of activities at their upscale hotel. The next morning, however, they, like countless others, are torn apart as a wall of water smashes through the area, devastating natural and man-made structures alike. 

However, anyone paying the least bit of attention to the film's promotion knows one crucial fact: the entire family survives the tragedy. This means that, as a film, The Impossible needs to rely on more than just the question of whether the family will be reunited; the specifics of their struggle have to come to the forefront. And that's one of this film's strengths. First and foremost is Bayona's handling of the tsunami, which avoids turning the catastrophe into the sort of disaster porn that one might find in a Roland Emmerich blockbuster. The scenes of the family struggling in the raging waters are compelling, but they never feel overblown. If anything, certain stylistic flourishes lend greater insight into the physical struggles people faced. The most successful of these are the underwater shots, filled with tilting camera angles and furious, swirling imagery. It's been said that being submerged in the tsunami felt like being trapped in a washing machine, and Bayona captures that effect with a harrowing, white knuckle intensity. 

But the film doesn't get caught up in the chaos of the tidal wave. Bayona and screenwriter Sergio G. Sanchez are, first and foremost, focused on the story of survival and the triumph of the human spirit even in the worst of times. The scenes of the family struggling in the raging waters are already exhausting, and The Impossible doesn't go overboard with them, thereby allowing them to never run out of impact. Just as impressive is the treatment of the rest of the family's journey, which begins with its focus on Maria and Lucas. 

And though there's not much to work with on paper, the cast, thankfully, turns in nice work, even if they're working with blank slates. This is a film about circumstances, not character, which limits what the actors can really achieve. But Watts, McGregor, and Holland are all compelling presences, and their looks of exhaustion and anguish never feel redundant or strained. At the same time, it remains difficult to find anything extraordinary in the performances, as the emotional impact is achieved through the broader themes and events, rather than the specifics of the individuals at the narrative's core.

Where The Impossible becomes a little wobbly, however, is in some of its less physically demanding sequences. Some dialogue, especially for the three children, feels rather stiff, and at times even jarring to hear coming out of such young characters. Suffice it to say that the film handles the overarching components well, but stumbles when it comes to the particulars of character interactions. Writing quibbles aside, the film engages in some needless (albeit brief) moments involving various members of the family just barely missing each other as they wander around a chaotic Thai hospital. 

But perhaps the film's biggest weakness is Fernando Velazquez's score, which often feels like leftover tracks from the latest Almodovar film. The raw emotion on display is compelling enough, yet there are too many instances where the score either telegraphs an emotion too soon, or simply becomes overbearing. What should be one of the film's most powerful moments is nearly sunk by the surging music that floods over the entire scene. In a movie that successfully blends compelling film making techniques and upfront emotional impact, the use of such forced music seems wildly out of place. Once The Impossible winds down to its final moments, the sense of authenticity largely returns, but there are enough rough spots here and there that hold the film back. However, Bayona deserves credit for his treatment of the '04 tsunami, and how he is able to make the film suitably wrenching without exploiting or cheapening the suffering of thousands. If anything, The Impossible is an anti-disaster movie, and should, at least, be given some recognition for its treatment of such destruction with such a visceral, yet still human, vision.

Grade: B