2011 MSPIFF Journal #3/3

Also: 2011 MSPIFF Journals #'s 1 & 2

Project Nim
Grade: B+
Opens in Minneapolis later this summer

Something was frustrating me throughout Project Nim, and it wasn't the animal cruelty, disturbing as that obviously was. It was the reenactments that were most annoying - dark, bloody scenes inserted throughout the film in an attempt to dramatize the narration and make sure we knew, for example, what it looked like when Nim killed a poodle by throwing it against a wall. Every few minutes, I kept wondering, "This seems familiar - why I am so bothered by these unnecessary but harmless reenactments?". My answer came when the film ended: Directed by James Marsh. Ah, yes, Oscar-winning James Marsh, whose enthralling Man on Wire also suffered mightily from frequently pointless reenacted scenes. As far as I can tell from these two films, Marsh must have zero faith in the storytelling power of his interviews, or the wealth of archival footage at his disposal, or for that matter the patience of the average viewer. It's not enough to have incredibly juicy material with which to work - Marsh has stylize his story like a bad TV police procedural just to keep our attention during an interview with a subject, which, you know, there are a fair amount of in most documentaries. Ugh. Anyway, if you can get past the reenactments - and obviously everyone else in the world easily could for Man on Wire - you'll find Project Nim a haunting examination of science, and also "science", otherwise known as mankind's often nasty way of dealing with other species in this world.

The Bengali Detective

Grade: B+

The first thing I remember hearing about The Bengali Detective, from the news headlines out of Sundance in January, was that the documentary had been picked up for a feature film adaptation. The most recent similar example is the delayed but still simmering adaptation of The King of Kong, so I deduced that the films must have something in common, such as instantly classic characters - real life people who seem too scripted to not be scripted. In this respect The Bengali Detective definitely delivers, but otherwise it's a completely different style of film, for better and for worse. The central focus on Rajesh Ji, an optimistic private investigator, serves as a fascinating foundation from which to consider contemporary Indian society in Kolkata. Between his daily grind on several cases, which range from fake shampoo sales to infidelity to dismemberment and murder, we get a closer look at what motivates him, namely his adorable son and ailing wife (diabetes). And in between all of this, we see Rajesh and his team of investigators don glitter and spandex while earnestly preparing for an audition for a TV dance competition. Needless to say, the film is an emotional rollercoaster, uproariously funny one minute, grotesquely disturbing the next minute, and then heart-stoppingly tragic, before starting all over again. It was a lot to handle and made me wonder if the ending was really as uplifting as it seemed, but it's still hands-down one of the most entertaining documentaries in this early year - and a film adaptation is completely unnecessary.

Stuck Between Stations

Grade: B

I don't know whether to fault Stuck Between Stations for being so stubbornly local or love it for being so stubbornly loyal. It's without question one of the most gushing cinematic tributes to Minneapolis ever put on film; it's not an exaggeration to say it's a movie about a city more than a movie about a story. The story is a gentle retread of Before Sunrise, but with fewer interesting conversations and more needless skyline shots. The performances are actually a highlight, even by Josh Hartnett in a bizarre cameo, and they carry the story through some otherwise tedious scenes. This isn't to say the film is boring or the dialogue empty (quite the opposite), but eventually there's so much navel-gazing and local flavor that it becomes a little stifling. You just want a change of scenery or something foreign or new (kind of like living here at times, but that's a different story). At the end of the day, Stuck Between Stations is a tenderly made film with a lot of heart, even if its Minneapolitan sensibilities may prove to be a bit of a barrier to outsiders truly connecting with it.

Painful Moments in Movie History #2: The Fireplace Scene

Natalie Portman, Hayden Christensen

Star Wars: Episode II - Attack of the Clones, 2002

Director: 

George Lucas

Writers: 

George Lucas, Jonathan Hales

______________________________

INTERIOR: NABOO LAKE RETREAT, LODGE, FIREPLACE ALCOVE - TWILIGHT

A fire blazes in the open hearth. PADMÉ and ANAKIN are sitting in front of it, gazing into the flames.

ANAKIN:
From the moment I met you, all those years ago, not a day has gone by when I haven't thought of you. And now that I'm with you again, I'm in agony. The closer I get to you, the worse it gets. The thought of not being with you- I can't breathe. I'm haunted by the kiss that you should never have given me. My heart is beating, hoping that kiss will not become a scar. You are in my very soul, tormenting me. What can I do? I will do anything that you ask...

Silence. The logs flame in the hearth. PADMÉ meets his eye, then looks away.

The Guy With the Butterfly Tattoo

"See that butterfly? You think it's Danaus plexippus, but it's not - it's Pieris rapae!" 

"A butterfly?," my wife wondered aloud as we watched George Clooney's character, Jack, perform his daily calisthenics routine in his cozy flat tucked away in a small Italian village. She was referring to the tattoo on his upper back (although it would have made just as much sense on the small of his back, and been funnier), and while I also noticed the unexplained marking, I was busy trying to determine whether Jack traveled with a pull-up bar or if they are actually standard in century-old Italian dwellings.

Whatever we were focused on while watching Anton Corbijn's The American, it wasn't the plot - such as there is one. The potential for a simmering thriller exists (the film is based on Martin Booth's well-received 1990 novel, "A Very Private Gentleman"), but the on-screen translation is a cliché-ridden and ultimately inconsequential film. Much as it tries to transcend the genre, it still ends up a vanilla "One Last Job" movie where the bank robber/assassin/detective/soldier/criminal plods along as a tortured soul, haunted by a lost love, chased by inept enemies, unable to trust anyone and forced to accept his likely fate - to die either as a martyr or as a ghost. Generally these characters do a good deal of brooding and philosophizing to supporting characters about their life's path.

Problem is, Rowan Joffe's screenplay for The American calls for very little in the way of characters talking and very much in the way of George Clooney just looking depressed. He is the picture of melancholy, sipping espresso alone in cafes, nervously walking and driving with an eye over his shoulder and a hand on his gun, tossing and turning in bed, making safe, emotionless conversation with locals, rubbing his eyes in anguish, and so on. At some point I just had to wonder, "Was this the right guy for the job?".

Painful Moments in Movie History #1: The Animal Cracker Scene

Armageddon, 1998

Director: 

Michael Bay

Writers: 

Jonathan Hensleigh, J.J. Abrams, Tony Gilroy, Shane Salerno

______________________________

A.J.:
You know  what I was thinking?

Grace Stamper:
What?

A.J.:
I really don't think that the animal cracker qualifies as a cracker.

Grace Stamper:
Why?

A.J.:
Well cause it's sweet, which to me suggests cookie, and, you know, I mean putting cheese on something is sort of a defining characteristic of what makes a cracker a cracker. I don't know why I thought of that, I just...

Grace Stamper:
Baby, you have such sweet pillow talk.

A.J.:
I got like a little animal cracker, Discovery Channel thing happening right here. (affects Australian accent) Watch the gazelle as he grazes through the open plains. Now, look as the cheetah approaches. Watch as he stalks his prey. Now the gazelle is a little spooked. He could head north, to the ample sustenance provided by the mountainous peaks above. Or, he could go south. The gazelle now faces mans most perilous question: north...or, south...way down under. Tune in next week.

Grace Stamper:
Baby? Do you think it's possible that anyone else in the world is doing this very same thing at this very same moment?

A.J.:
I hope so. Otherwise what the hell are we trying to save?

On the Horizon: In the Heights

For no good reason at all, Minnesota has a raging inferiority complex. The state is puffed up with pride about the most bizarre things (electing Jesse Venture and Al Franken to office?), and any national or global story that has a local connection becomes front-page news, just so we feel like we're important, too. I'm not a Minnesota native but even I have found myself spouting off boastful trivia to people when I'm out of state, such as the fact that the Twin Cities has a thriving drama culture and more theater seats per capita than any U.S. city outside of New York City. Why your average person would care about such a thing I have no idea, but that doesn't matter, you'll be told this information just so that you know Minnesota should be known for something.

Despite my sarcastic attitude about this state's insecurity, there are times when the boasts are backed up, and when something like the local theater culture really does create some unforgettable experiences ahead of the rest of the country. A few months ago it was announced that the inaugural national tour of the Tony Award winning-musical "In the Heights" would be making an early stop in Minneapolis, and considering how much I love "Rent", it was a no-brainer that I had to see this. The occasion arrived this weekend, and I am pleased to declare that it was shockingly fantastic. I'm no drama geek but I love a good Broadway musical, so take my opinion for it's worth considering your own interest in such things. In any event I was not prepared for a show - written by someone my age - with this much cultural diversity, humor, musicality, dance, and emotion. In a word (or two), it was life-affirming.

Because I love the film adaptation of "Rent", and because "In the Heights" is so vivid, vivacious, and vibrantly alive (think "Rent"+"Grease"+"West Side Story"+2009), during the show I found myself wondering how Lin-Manuel Miranda's vision would translate to the silver screen. Turns out I wasn't the only one: after opening on Broadway in March of 2008, racking up 13 Tony nominations in May of 2008, and winning 4 Tony Awards (including Best Musical) in June of 2008, "In the Heights" was almost immediately picked up by Universal Pictures for a film adaptation due out in 2010. If it does end up being released on time (I can't tell how far along production is), it will automatically be my most anticipated movie of next year.

300 Words About: New York, I Love You

"Listen, Hayden, let me tell you a little something about being boring on screen"...

Easily one of the most disappointing films of 2009, New York, I Love You makes the largest and most culturally diverse city in the United States appear bland, lily-white, and generally lifeless. It's like Des Moines on a Sunday morning.

To be fair I'm not a New Yorker and have never lived in the city, but in all the times I've ever visited I've never left with an impression as dull and tasteless as I did walking out of this movie. The locations are pedestrian, the stories inconsequential and insipid, the chain-smoking characters severely lacking in charisma, and the acting hit or miss (like, broad-side-of-the-barn miss). Aside from two or three of the 11 short stories, the highlight of New York, I Love You is the music playing over the closing credits.

REVIEW: Etienne!

There are two kinds of pet owners in the world: cat and dog owners, and bird/fish/reptile/rodent owners. I've recently joined the ranks of the former, but for a good part of my childhood I was one of the latter. Due to my dad's reluctance to own a dog (he was once bitten by a rabid German shepherd), and due to the time and money required to care for cats and dogs, we had a series of hamsters - adorably soft little dwarf hamsters, more specifically. They live about two years and were a great source of enjoyment and entertainment for our family (I once accidentally sucked one up with the vacuum hose - she survived).

It takes a special kind of person to appreciate dwarf hamsters, and by extension, a special kind of person to appreciate a movie about one. I couldn't believe it when I saw the description for Etienne! in the Flyway Film Festival lineup: "After Richard's best and only friend, a dwarf hamster named Etienne, is diagnosed with terminal cancer, he decides to take him on a bicycle road trip up the California coast to show him the world before he must put him to sleep." I had to see this movie.

300 Words About: Guy and Madeline on a Park Bench

Jazz just sounds cooler when it's backing a black and white scene, doesn't it? Gives it an organic, refreshing sound, almost a palpable texture. Jazz under neon blue lights and nightclub smoke makes for a great atmosphere, too, but that's sultry and mysterious and can be too confined by its own setting.

The reason I point this out is because Damien Chazelle's Guy and Madeline on a Park Bench (which made waves at Tribeca in April but is still seeking financing for a theatrical release) gives jazz a shot in the arm that not only gets your toe tapping, but your spirit soaring. You're not seduced by the riffs so much as you're invigorated by them.

It's a verite-style romantic musical dramedy that defies categorization precisely because it fits so many descriptions: indie, docudrama, mumblecore, to name a few. At different times it reminded of new cinema (In Search of a Midnight Kiss and Medicine for Melancholy) and classic cinema (the dancing scene from Jean-Luc Godard's Band of Outsiders), and it won't work for everyone if only because it's so peculiarly surreal. But I think that's why I loved it, aside from the fact that it was shot on the Boston and Cambridge streets that hold a special nostalgia for me.

Short Cuts: "I'm Bloody Ibiza!"

About a Boy (2002). Directed by Chris Weitz and Paul Weitz; written by Peter Hedges, Chris Weitz, and Paul Weitz, based on the novel by Nick Hornby; starring Hugh Grant, Nicholas Hoult, Toni Collette, and Rachel Weisz.

300 Words About: Ponyo

As a stand-alone painting this is beautiful, as a feature-length film it's incredible...

I probably should have kept my mouth shut a few months ago when I whined, " I fear we're going to lose the human element to animation". I knew both Ponyo and The Princess and The Frog were still on the way, but it seemed as if Coraline and Sita Sings the Blues were swift hammer strikes on the nails in the coffin of hand-drawn animation. After recently seeing Ponyo, I glad to have a renewed hope that someone, somewhere will continue to do this kind of work, and hopefully, Hayao Miyazaki will be one of those someones.

Honestly, I didn't really care for the Little Mermaid-inspired story of Ponyo (it seemed a little flat), but the nice thing about animated films, especially those from Miyazaki, is that the story can take a back seat to the storyboards. In this case, more than 100,000 vibrantly colorful, delicately hand-drawn storyboards. The resulting movements are so engrossing that you wish you could watch some sequences in slow-motion, or at the very least display some of the frames in art galleries.

For me, watercolor backgrounds and landscapes provide a nostalgic aura of fantasy and imagination, the sense of a place that that looks fuzzy on the screen but is perceived in your mind to be vividly clear and full of life. The sharp edges and modern flourishes of Pixar films are dazzlingly realistic, to be sure, but it's only in the hand-drawn style of Ponyo and older Disney films that my mind reverts back to childlike wonder. Both are enjoyable experiences, but the hand-drawn style has much more of a comfort food/warm blanket effect on me.

Which is why it will be sad if Ponyo doesn't do well at the box office here (it's already been another smash hit for Miyazaki in Japan), despite the voice talents of Matt Damon, Tina Fey, Liam Neeson and Cate Blanchett. American children are missing out on the experience of seeing something that doesn't resemble a video game; it draws them further into the story and, in my opinion, probably does more to bring out their own artistic interests. After all, all of those Pixar people grew up watching hand-drawn Disney movies.

If you haven't seen a Miyazaki film and you're curious about what to expect, feast your eyes on this:

Unlucky in Love - or Maybe Just Unaware?

Come on, Tom, get real...

An excerpt from the official synopsis for (500) Days of Summer:

• "Tom, the boy, still believes, even in this cynical modern world, in the notion of a transforming, cosmically destined, lightning-strikes-once kind of love. Summer, the girl, doesn’t. Not at all. But that doesn’t stop Tom from going after her, again and again, like a modern Don Quixote, with all his might and courage. Suddenly, Tom is in love not just with a lovely, witty, intelligent woman – not that he minds any of that -- but with the very idea of Summer, the very idea of a love that still has the power to shock the heart and stop the world."

An excerpt from the official synopsis for Paper Heart:

• "Charlyne Yi does not believe in love. Or so she says. Well, at the very least, she doesn’t believe in fairy-tale love or the Hollywood mythology of love, and her own experiences have turned her into yet another modern-day skeptic. Paper Heart follows Charlyne as she embarks on a quest across America to make a documentary about the one subject she doesn’t fully understand. As she and her good friend (and director) Nicholas search for answers and advice about love, Charlyne talks with friends and strangers, scientists, bikers, romance novelists, and children. They each offer diverse views on modern romance, as well as various answers to the age-old question: does true love really exist?"

Really? Are people still asking this age-old question? Yawn.

It's common knowledge that nearly every song ever written is, at its roots, about love in some way, shape, or form. Listen to the next song you hear, and chances are high you can tie love into it without thinking too hard. But as much as all of these songs are saying the same things about the same thing, you wouldn't necessarily call all songs the same, right? Neither would I.

Increasingly, however, I'm finding it difficult to apply the same logic to romantic comedies. Last year I opined that the genre was all but dead in the water (leading to the downfall of several careers, including Meg Ryan's). That was probably a bad generalization and wasn't entirely fair, since I really liked several 2008 films that could loosely be considered romantic comedies, including The Grocer's Son, Priceless, and Vicky Cristina Barcelona.

I can't quite put my finger on it, but maybe it was the lack of pretense in those movies that allowed me to fully enjoy them, and maybe it's the lack of maturity in Paper Heart and (500) Days of Summer that prevented me from fully enjoying them. They splashed new style onto the genre's canvas, but ultimately they're just like any of the other passable but meaningless romantic comedies that have come out in the last 30 years. To be more blunt, both Paper Heart and (500) Days of Summer are much more concerned with style and soundtracks than sentiment and substance.

Is it unfair to fault them for not adding literally anything new to the discussion about love? Maybe not, but on the same token I'd say it's unfair to disproportionately praise their effort when they both fail at making any significant statement about life's greatest mystery. Yi stated the obvious in a recent interview (remember that the thesis of her film is to find out if "true love really exists"): "I don’t think I have any more of an idea of what it is or how to define it than I did before I went on the road."

Ya think?

I'm not an expert on love or relationships, and neither is anyone else, but I couldn't resist the temptation to tell these characters to just grow up. Maybe it's because I just got back from a good friend's wedding, or because I'm recently engaged myself, or maybe it's because I'm as befuddled by the mysteries of love as everyone else. Whatever the case, it's just not as fun at this stage in my life to continuing watching movies featuring such juvenile characters (a descriptor for any age - see Elegy) fumble around looking for love in all the wrong places. If there is a difference between (500) Days of Summer and Paper Heart and any CW or MTV show (reality or scripted) starring and targeted toward college freshman, I'm not seeing it.

From my personal experience, the only absolute certainty about "true love" is that it can only exist in the space created when you swallow your selfish pride and fill the gaping hole with genuine humility. It also helps to possess a sense of self-awareness: the ability - and also desire - to see yourself as others do and, more importantly, see the dynamics of your relationship in the same way as the other person.

In the case of Tom in (500) Days of Summer, that might mean actually understanding, not just passively accepting, that Summer has no interest in a future with you. In the case of Charlyne in Paper Heart, that might mean watching the footage of yourself talking with children on a playground and asking yourself why your interactions with them are so natural and comfortable, and how that might spell doom for your future relationships with people who are trying to act like adults.

But these issues are glossed over in these two movies because there are other agendas at stake. (500) Days of Summer is desperately, yet failingly, attempting to escape its identity as just another enjoyably quirky romantic comedy that will come and go as quickly as Garden State did. Paper Heart, meanwhile, seems much more interested in creating a new "documentary" film genre (fake acting, real interviews) than actually having its characters develop in any meaningful way.

Maybe I've gone a little overboard whining about two movies that are enjoyably harmless, but despite their flair, both of them settled with me as simply sophomoric on the subject of love.

Short Cuts: "The Door Is Always Open...To My Office"

The Apartment (196o). Directed by Billy Wilder; written by Billy Wilder and I.A.L. Diamond; starring Jack Lemmon, Shirley MacLaine, and Fred McMurray.

REVIEW: Away We Go (B)

(Away We Go opens today at the Landmark Uptown Cinema)

One of the things I've never understood about screenwriting is the propensity for unrealistically realistic character details. In Away We Go, for example, why must Verona (Maya Rudolph) be a medical textbook diagram artist? Why can't she simply be a regular artist, or a writer, or a consultant - something that people actually do in real life?

No matter - Away We Go isn't really about real life, but about the search for the "real life" that Verona and Burt (again, unnecessarily uncommon names?) think is waiting for them as they reach their mid-30's. Preparing for the birth of their first child, the couple bounces from coast to coast, ostensibly in search for the the perfect city to raise a family, but really because they don't know what else to do.

They are obsessed with the family of their future and the families of their individual pasts, never considering what might be there for them in the present. In searching for the "truest" versions of themselves they look out the window instead of in the mirror, and to that end Away We Go will probably hit home for many people, particularly those in the 25-35 year-old demographic that have been waiting for a sequel to Garden State (that the films share a similar soundtrack cannot be a coincidence).

On this soul searching journey, however, director Sam Mendes appears to lose his way. I think he's at his best in a static setting (e.g., Revolutionary Road, Jarhead, Road to Perdition) where he can develop atmosphere and character and an overwhelmingly bleak mood. Here, husband-and-wife screenwriters and celebrated novelists Dave Eggers and Vendela Vida have him working on the fly, desperately trying to maintain the same semblance of character from city to city. Alas, it doesn't quite work, and the running tactic ends up being scenes of promisy pillow talk between Verona and Burt (John Krasinski) at each stop on the road.

What surprisingly does work is the back-and-forth between quirky comedy and punch-to-the-gut, plaintively serious drama - like Mendes' American Beauty but not nearly as smug. Sure, it feels like it was designed as an emotional rollercoaster ride, but that's mostly true of life, even if our interactions with real people aren't quite always as fleeting. There's almost no continuity in their journey and we're often here and gone with thinly developed, easily abandoned characters.

Honestly, as far as adorable indies go you're better off with a little more substance and self-awareness from something like Medicine for Melancholy.

All that being said, and in spite of its identity crisis, Away We Go somehow, impossibly ended up winning me over, almost entirely due to the strong acting. Maya Rudolph was always a favorite cast member of mine on "SNL" and I was glad to see that her dramatic range has a lot of potential for future films. And maybe because I don't watch "The Office", Krasinski proved me wrong in thinking that he doesn't have much depth. The character of Burt appears to be tailor-made for him (or Zach Braff), but he wears it well. Add in a howlingly funny few minutes from Allison Janney, a disappointingly tired but still terrific performance by Maggie Gyllenhaal, and a great piece of acting by Chris Messina (who was also fantastic in Vicky Cristina Barcelona), and it's easy to overlook all of those flaws in the story. In fact, with Jeff Daniels, Catherine O'Hara, and Jim Gaffigan, this might be best work by an ensemble cast in 2009 so far.

Is that enough to win you over? Maybe not. A wrong character here or one too many indie-folk songs there might have spelled doom for my experience with Away We Go, but in the end it was a charming enough reminder of the well-worn cliché that life's a journey, not a destination.

Grade:
Writing - 7
Acting - 10
Production - 8
Emotional Impact - 8
Music - 4
Social Significance - 5

Total: 42/50= 84% = B

Revanche, Jerichow, and the State of the American Suspense Thriller

In discussing the Underrated MOTM for May, Breakdown, I lamented that American suspense thrillers are about as prevalent and dependable as American cars these days:

"...shouldn't we appreciate it and movies like it more during this absolute drought of American thrillers? Over the last two years, for example, every first-tier No Country for Old Men or Zodiac, or second-tier Transsiberian or Gone Baby Gone, is outnumbered by an Eagle Eye, Vantage Point, 88 Minutes, Righteous Kill, or Untraceable, to name just a few. That I've seen none of those last five is, well, the point. American directors and studios are in far too deep with remakes, sequels, and "reboots" to think of anything new, while across the pond there's a seemingly constant stream of quality suspense. But this is really another rant for another time."

Like now. If anyone has any evidence to the contrary I'm all ears, but you'll be hard-pressed to convince me that big-budget projects like State of Play, Valkyrie, Traitor, or Body of Lies can sit on the same shelf as imports like last year's Three Monkeys, Let the Right One In, Boy A, Tell No One, and Roman de Gare, or this year's Revanche and Jerichow.

What's the problem? Well for one, Hollywood is in the midst of a decade-long remake/reboot/sequel bonanza that defies all logic, reason, and, in my young memory, precedent. I may not be happy with it, but I think I get it: moody suspense thrillers ain't exactly the easiest films for studios to market, and if you're developing a film that doesn't have a major star and can't dominate a box-office weekend, you might as well forget about it. Which leaves us, for the most part, with mediocre "suspense blockbusters" and very good foreign films with extremely limited releases. (Although in addition to the recent second-tier American thrillers I already mentioned, I would even add a third-tier of halfway decent, if not at least admirably original thrillers like Lakeview Terrace, Reservation Road, and We Own the Night.)

Secondly, I'm increasingly convinced that the majority of American directors just aren't using the right formula to create true suspense. Admittedly there are a handful who have done some solid work in recent years, including the Coen Brothers, David Fincher (Zodiac), Bryan Singer (The Usual Suspects - and also Valkyrie), Christopher Nolan (Memento), Sam Raimi (A Simple Plan), and Scott Frank (The Lookout). But on balance, the American market is flooded with films that are "suspenseful" because of their action sequences (e.g., the Bourne series) or suspenseful because you're on the edge of your seat wondering if you're the only one who has absolutely no clue what's going on (e.g., Syriana).

What's frustrating is that American directors used to be masters of suspense (but not, of course, The Master of Suspense, Alfred Hitchcock, who is above and beyond this discussion); consider Orson Welles, Jules Dassin, Sydney Lumet , Alan Pakula, Francis Ford Coppola, Stanley Kubrick, John Boorman, William Friedkin, Sydney Pollack, John Frankenheimer, Jonathan Demme, David Lynch, and even Steven Spielberg. Many of these directors have unfortunately passed on, but those who are still with us (Spielberg) seem to have lost their creative touch, and their successors have done little of significance in recent years.

Meanwhile, in Europe (and particular Germany), a group of young filmmakers is churning out original thrillers of extremely high quality. In addition to the directors of the foreign films I mentioned earlier, as well as Germans Tom Tykwer (The Princess and the Warrior) and Fatih Akin (The Edge of Heaven), we have two very promising writer-directors with new films out this summer: German Christian Petzold and Austrian Götz Spielmann.

See these movies if possible, and then ask yourself why, on this side of the Atlantic, we haven't figured out that simple story + well-developed characters we can relate to + a bad decision or two - manipulative musical cues - obligatory sex and action = real suspense. It's a pretty elementary formula, but then I suppose we've always been behind the rest of the world when it comes to math, right?

________________________________________________________________

(Revanche opens today at the Landmark Lagoon Cinema)

As the global economy continues to go through, oh, a rough patch, conventional wisdom would say that a rise in crime and illicit activity would follow along. People might start getting desperate and robbing banks, for example, and as most of us are not professional criminals, things are bound to go awry. Such is the case in Revanche when Alex (Johannes Krisch, a striking Colin Farrell lookalike) and his Ukrainian girlfriend attempt to hit a small bank on the outskirts of Vienna.

What goes wrong is for you to find out, but I'm giving little away to disclose that Alex is soon hiding, or rather living, at his grandfather's pastoral country cottage. He spends his days moping and cutting wood, and his nights moping and having an affair with one of his grandfather's neighbors (Ursula Strauss). In his mind he is always plotting his revenge (revanche), but the further he gets from the bank incident, the less sure he is that revenge is really the answer.

The tagline for the film is "Whose fault is it if life doesn't go your way?", which is somewhat misleading in that it suggests an answer would be sufficient. More appropriate would something like "What do you do when life doesn't go your way?", because while much of Revanche is about assigning blame to the right person when an accident happens (hint: you can't), on a deeper level it's more about what happens when you think you've figured who that is.

We don't really know how long it takes Alex to fully understand this, because writer-director Götz Spielmann has given us a tense, moody character who, like Benjamin Button, primarily communicates with his eyes. The difference is that Johannes Krisch completely owns this performance, no make-up or CGI required. What is he thinking? What is he planning? We can only guess, and in the meantime we're wracked with gripping anxiety about how and when he might snap.

One of the interesting things about Revanche (as well as Jerichow) is that unlike in Breakdown, the typical Hitchcock set-up of "innocent character trying to escape situation and/or clear their name" is thrown out the window. Alex is not innocent, yet you almost have to convince yourself of that fact as you begin empathizing with him throughout the film. This is a pretty amazing achievement by Spielmann, and despite a legendary year for foreign film in 2008, it would be hard to argue with the Academy Award nomination he received for Revanche.

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(Jerichow opens July 10, 2009 at the Landmark Edina Cinema)

Despite all of my whining and complaining about remakes, I find I forgive such movies if they're able to play by their own rules and establish their own identities, maybe thus disqualifying them as actual remakes. A popular term recently is "retread", and so maybe as Breakdown was a retread of The Vanishing, Christian Petzold's noirish Jerichow is a retread of The Postman Always Rings Twice.

It doesn't get much simpler than this: Thomas (Benno Fürmann, who also starred in The Princess and The Warrior) is a strapping army veteran who's recently completed a tour in Afghanistan and moved into his late mother's house in the formerly East German town of Jerichow. Unemployed and with little direction in his life, he fatefully meets Ali, a Turkish businessman, and Laura, Ali's beautiful blonde wife. Despite (or perhaps because of) his jealous tendencies, Ali asks Thomas to work for him as a delivery truck driver. Thomas and Laura predictably fall for each other and bad decisions are soon made by everybody.

Judging by the trailer you might think Jerichow plays like a soap opera, but as in real life, the dilemmas faced by Thomas, Laura, and Ali are believable, and the consequences of their actions are grave. Moreover, Petzold keeps the intrigue high by gradually allowing these complex characters and their backstories to fully bloom over the course of 93 riveting minutes. You don't get to know somebody after a five minute discussion in real life, so why shouldn't it be the same in movies? Because of Petzold's patience (and because there are only three characters), by the climactic ending our loyalties are torn among the three.

Immediately after seeing Jerichow at MSPIFF in April I regretted missing Petzold's Yella at last year's festival. As in Revanche, greed, lust, guilt, and distrust are simmering under the surface, discussed but never spoken. Jerichow, however, also has urgent real-world issues on its mind, including the fact that German-Turkish cultural tensions (a must in any contemporary German film) are no longer relegated to the big cities.

I should mention that Jerichow's finale, while not necessarily contrived, wasn't what I had hoped for. In other words, you can sense what's coming but you hold out hope that it won't happen in predictable fashion. Nevertheless, it was a pleasant surprise at MSPIFF and frustratingly better than its recent American counterparts. By that, I mean there are none.

REVIEW: Medicine for Melancholy (A-)

While I'm admittedly no expert on analyzing film trends, I'm confident enough calling myself an observer of them. It would appear that over the last 18 months, for example, a New Wave of American independent filmmaking has begun in earnest.

Somehow, while Hollywood barrages us with mindless action blockbusters and unnecessary sequel upon unnecessary sequel (I can understand franchises sequels like Transporter 3 and even Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2, but Get Smart 2 and Paul Blart: Mall Cop 2 - what is happening? ), an eclectic group of American filmmakers is still successfully churning out some of the best independent film of the last decade.

A DNA test would show these films from 2008 to be fraternal twins, if not identical: Ballast (Lance Hammer), Chop Shop (Ramin Bahrani), Wendy and Lucy (Kelly Reichardt), In Search of a Midnight Kiss (Alex Holdridge), Frozen River (Courtney Hunt), and The Pool (Chris Smith) - and those are just the ones I've seen. Their shared traits: two or three principle characters, a bare bones plot about current social issues, a subtle and possibly nonexistent musical score, stark cinematography, and decidedly untidy endings. Of course they're also all quite good (four of them were in my Best of 2008 list, and Wendy and Lucy might have snuck in had I seen it earlier), making the fact that they received so little attention even more disappointing.

Barry Jenkins' Medicine for Melancholy unfortunately seems headed for the same quiet fate. A late 2008 arrival that may find more of an audience in 2009 on DVD and in limited release, it's a deceptively loaded film that, likes its characters, quickly sheds itself of stereotypes in carving out its own niche in the romantic drama genre. Meditative and unhurried, Medicine for Melancholy strikes a comfortable balance between lighthearted comedy, passionate romance, thoughtful drama and, of all things, cultural identity and social justice. It's like Before Sunrise with a conscience.

Unlike the contemplative pair of Jesse and Celine, however, Micah (Wyatt Cenac) and Jo (Tracey Heggins) meet under less romantic circumstances: shamefully in each other's arms after an inebriated one night stand. The next day, Sunday, starts out with a painfully awkward breakfast at a local cafe (they learn each other's names) followed by a uncomfortably forced conversation in the cab ride to their respective San Francisco apartments. Jo is in a serious relationship with a white guy, which aside from irritating Micah simply makes him all the more determined to win her over.

These issues around race are thoroughly explored while hardly discussed at all. Yes, Micah is vocal about his frustration with the history of socioeconomic segregation in San Francisco and that people of color are always patronized in the "indie" scene and that African-Americans make up a minuscule percentage of homeowners in the city, but he never preaches, and neither does the movie. In the hands of the brilliant Spike Lee, for example, Medicine for Melancholy would have become tiresome and likely abrasive. Barry Jenkins uses a softer touch, fortunately, and lets the camera and the city do the majority of the talking. The color is symbolically washed out from the film and we learn as much about the characters and their thoughts on race relations not by what they say, but by what they wear, do, eat, and listen to. Alex Holdridge used technique this to a lesser extent in In Search of a Midnight Kiss, and his beautiful shots of L.A. were more pretty than profound. Jenkins, on the other hand, is doing it with a lot more thought and for much more meaning.

There's little mystery as to how Micah and Jo's relationship will progress throughout the day (even though Jo asks in the form of a declaration, "This is a one night stand."), but Medicine for Melancholy isn't a romance in the traditional sense anyway. Cenac and Heggins provide Micah and Jo with real weight and emotion, and although this may be partly because we've never seen them before, it's all because they do an excellent job naturally settling into their roles. Amusingly, their acting is a little shaky at the beginning, but then again so are the characters themselves as they work their way out of an awkward situation. Is it by design? With as much careful thought as appears to have gone into the other aspects of Medicine for Melancholy, I wouldn't be surprised.

Finally, I'd be remiss not to mention the soundtrack at some point, if only because people who are into indie rock (I'm only marginally so) will probably consider it a gold mine. I don't recognize any of the songs and only two of the artists - Tom Waits and Wyatt Cenac (who plays Micah) - but you should know by now that I'm game for any song that fits the right scene, and it should come as no surprise that Jenkins succeeds with the music as well as he does everything else.

I saw Medicine for Melancholy more than three weeks ago and it's yet to begin to fade into the recesses of my movie memory. On paper it's obviously the type of film I would love (tell me you're surprised at my grade), but it's still been "stickier" than I expected, and it's the best type of movie in that sense because I find myself still connecting it to real life. There's a sense that, like the other American Independent New Wave movies from 2008, Medicine for Melancholy taps into some universal human condition that we're all able to relate to despite differences in race, class, gender, and other seemingly obtrusive social divisions. You might not see yourself in these movies, but you see yourself in them.

Grade:
Writing - 9
Acting - 9
Production - 10
Emotional Impact - 8
Music - 5
Social Significance - 5

Total: 46/50= 92% = A-

Short Cuts: "Baby Fish Mouth! Baby Fish Mouth!"

When Harry Met Sally (1989). Directed by Rob Reiner; written by Nora Ephron; starring Billy Crystal, Meg Ryan, Carrie Fisher, Bruno Kirby, Steven Ford, and Lisa Jane Persky.

300 Words About: Two Lovers

"Oh, alright, I'll write one of my rap songs about you, Gwyneth..."

If it is true that Joaquin Phoenix is done acting, his will be one of the most intriguing careers in recent memory. With a distinctively recognizable face and a penchant for playing brooding loners, his characters would improbably evoke both sympathy and disgust in us at the same time, perhaps never more so than as Leonard in Two Lovers. It’s not his best performance (and in all likelihood it’s probably not his last), but it should certainly be good enough to quiet his critics – at least those who weren’t convinced by his jaw-droppingly impressive appearance on “The Late Show with David Letterman”.

Having wrapped himself up in an inescapable bind - and a familiar setup - by simultaneously dating two women (perfectly played by Gwyneth Paltrow and Vinessa Shaw), Leonard displays a surprising lack of discretion in his hedonistic behavior. He denies nothing and admits everything, or so it seems, until the situation eventually becomes untenable. It’s funny, more than once I thought, “This feels like a dark Woody Allen movie”; instead of Vicky Cristina Barcelona, it’s Michelle Sandra Brighton Beach.

And as with Allen’s recent film, whether you identify with Leonard’s particular dilemma or not isn’t really as important as the acknowledgment that these are three rich, realistic, and compelling characters. To be honest, it’s not what I would have expected from James Gray, whose last two films starring Phoenix (The Yards and We Own the Night) were gritty crime dramas, saturated in blue light and punctuated with fist fights.

But Two Lovers has none of that edge. It would almost be sweet if it wasn’t so depressing, and for the first 90 minutes it’s surprisingly engrossing. Gray has a talent for making talky scenes between characters feel natural and engaging, and I’m starting to notice at least one memorably absorbing scene in each movie (the nightclub scene here, the car chase in We Own the Night).

If Gray continues to secure solid casts (Brad Pitt is rumored for his next film), and he continues to focus on the characters instead of the clever stories (on paper this one couldn't be more generic), there's reason to think his future work will be increasingly great. Also, it would appear that the third time was the charm for the collaboration between Phoenix and Gray – will there be a fourth?

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P.S. What if Peter Sarsgaard is playing Joaquin Phoenix playing a creepy aspiring hip-hop artist? If anybody could pull it off, these two talented actors could.

REVIEW: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (A-)

As I've mentioned in my Reel Life installments, the best material for movies often comes from the simplest of stories. Though obviously a work of fiction, F. Scott Fitzgerald's short story from 1921, "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button", is a good example of such high-potential material. The set-up is simply this: Benjamin Button ages backwards. No explanation, no crazy twists, just leave the rest for the reader to interpret.

Or to Eric Roth, the Forrest Gump screenwriter who adapted "Button" for the (surprisingly) first ever film based on the story, and didn't take many risks in departing from Gump's Oscar-winning formula (here, instead of "You never know what you gonna get," it's "You never know what's coming for ya."). Directed by David Fincher (Zodiac), The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is a wonder to behold for several reasons.

For starters, Fincher's vision of early 20th-century New Orleans is enchanting. I'm always one to be behind the curve on things, and it didn't strike me until mid-way through this movie that nearly all of Fincher's films look as if they were filmed on the same sound stage: Seven, The Game, Fight Club, Panic Room, and Zodiac. There is a grittiness, a blue steely look that he has mastered, and it comes through again in Benjamin Button even if the color hue has changed from blue-gray to gold. Every detail on the screen is carefully created; the gaslamps, the snowflakes, the fog and the shadows have as much presence as the characters. More than distract, the lighting and cinematography draw you in and allow you to just sit, study, and savor the images, as if in a museum.

Which is not to say that the humans don't grab you as well. Reteaming with Fincher for the first time in nearly a decade, Brad Pitt brings to the table perhaps his most ambitious performance to date as the title character. Nothing against the sexy hardbody Pitt (Mr. & Mrs. Smith, Troy) or the goofy dumbbell Pitt (Snatch, Burn After Reading), but I'm really starting to like the "anti-Pitt" Pitt (Babel, The Assassination of Jesse James...) - the one that doesn't inhabit so much of the screen, whether voluntarily or accidentally. Never has Pitt had to express so much with his eyes than in Benjamin Button, and he excels largely because he realizes this - and he doesn't try to out-Gump Tom Hanks.

Speaking of Gump - though Cate Blanchett (Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull) and Tilda Swinton (Burn After Reading) are predictably impressive, neither has much material to work with here, and neither is as memorable as Robin Wright Penn's Jenny Curran Gump. As I haven't read Fitzgerald's story, it's unclear to me whether the romantic angle was played up for the film. If so, consider it an ambitious failure. Either due to the increasingly annoying cuts to the present day or the mere fact that neither actress appeared to have much on-screen chemistry with Pitt, the most glaring problem in Button is that the love story isn't very moving, at least not consistently so.

More emotional juice may have been squeezed out of the relationship between Benjamin Button and his father (Jason Flemyng) or adoptive mother (perfectly played by Taraji P. Henson), but alas, our time with them is disproportionately short. Of course, time is of the essence in a story like this, and telling a man's life story from beginning to end, or rather end to beginning, doesn't allow for many detours.

A little boy learns to walk for the first time...

In the end, Benjamin Button is possibly more cryptic than it is "curious". Fincher's cloaked production style presents it as more of a dream than it should be, which enriches the cinematic experience but partly weakens our ability to access the profound philosophies inherent in such a tall tale. Moreover, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is so long that, like all great dreams, you have to almost sit and ponder it to remember the best parts (repeated viewings may help, and I'm fully expecting Button to live longer than its time in the theater). But it's also captivating and thought-provoking, especially for those who look at life's "big picture". Forrest Gump may have had more whimsy and it may have even been a better movie (not forgetting that it touched on a number of social issues where Benjamin Button took a pass), but for those who like their films to have a little more mysticism, elegance and intellectual potency, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button will be enthralling.

Grade:
Writing - 8
Acting - 10
Production - 9
Emotional Impact - 8
Music - 5
Social Significance - 5

Total: 45/50= 90% = A-

REVIEW: Yes Man (C+)

Of all the quirky character traits a movie's protagonist could have, an inability to say the word "no" has a surprising amount of potential. Unfortunately, Yes Man's team of young writers took the concept far too literally; the awkwardly meandering story makes it clear they were saying "yes" to just about any idea that popped up in their writing sessions. As I haven't read the book on which it's based, which details the real-life experiment of Scottish humorist Danny Wallace, I can't say with any authority that parts of it are completely made up.

But if the idea was to make an inspiring movie about living life out loud and seeking new experiences, ridiculously juvenile scenes (portraying oral sex from an elderly neighbor, for example) greatly reduce any chance that Yes Man can be seen for anything other than what it is: a completely predictable, ultimately disappointing romantic comedy. Clearly playing off of Liar Liar, the set-up also reminded me of Shallow Hal, which yes, also has plenty of immaturity to spare (it is a Farrelly Brothers movie), but leaves you with a more meaningful lesson, if not a lot more humor, than Yes Man.

Jim Carrey's career is in need of a good boost, but as perfect as he is for this part, the spotlight primarily shines on Rhys Darby, who doesn't stray much from his character on HBO's "Flight of the Conchords", and Zooey Deschanel, the underachieving actress who unknowingly almost killed her career last summer in The Happening. Together along with Bradley Cooper (an experienced actor known mostly from Wedding Crashers) and Terence Stamp (who plays a conscientious S.S. officer next week in Valkyrie), the cast ambles its way through repetitive gags and a disappointingly bland storyline.

The major laughs come from the minor situations - a Harry Potter-themed party, a mail-order bride fiasco, Korean language lessons (Carrey actually learned some Korean for the part). This is the good stuff, but it's still overshadowed by one too many sight gags, as if to prove Carrey can still do slapstick comedy as he inches toward age 50. Why not make use of his dramatic talent and add a little heart and soul to the character? And here's another thing: at one point his character clearly says "No" (in denying that he's a terrorist). Is this an egregious error in the story, or is there something I missed about the rules of the game? If so, forgive me for losing focus - and interest - as the movie progressed.

"Hey buddy, don't you go stealing every scene from me now..."

I'm not exactly sure why Yes Man is being rolled out during the Christmas season, where it's likely to get lost in the shuffle of the award contenders. Why not position it for a strong March or April release, where it clearly belongs? Maybe the story has come to life and the studio is saying "yes" to a risky marketing campaign. Or maybe I'm wrong and the movie will strike gold during this gloomy economic period. Either way, can you wait to see it on DVD or during its inevitable repeated play on TBS? Yes, man.

Grade:
Writing - 7
Acting - 9
Production - 7
Emotional Impact - 8
Music - 5
Social Significance - 3

Total: 39/50= 78% = C+