Licorice Pizza

Director: Paul Thomas Anderson
Starring: Alana Haim, Cooper Hoffman, Sean Penn, Tom Waits, Bradley Cooper, Benny Safdie, Skyler Gisondo, Mary Elizabeth Ellis, John Michael Higgins, Christine Ebersole, Harriet Sansom Harris, Joseph Cross, Maya Rudolph
Running Time: 134 min.
Rating: R  

★★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

What's always been distinctive about Paul Thomas Anderson films is his ability to make a story that in anyone else's hands would seem slight feel more important, regardless of whether it actually is. The coming-of-age comedy-drama Licorice Pizza is probably the most accessible mainstream picture he's made, which isn't to imply it any way lacks the rebellious spirit found in his most acclaimed work. It's like a less volatile Punch-Drunk Love, with portions that will remind some of Almost Famous, Magnolia and even some Boogie Nights in terms of tone and setting, while strangely sharing little in common with any of them. You could even consider it PTA's answer to Quentin Tarantino's Once Upon a Time in... Hollywood in how we're transported to such a semi-autobiographical time and place that clearly means a lot to the filmmaker, populated it with weird details, complex characters and a distinctive style that makes a superficially insignificant tale resonate far deeper.

It's hard not to love this no matter which crazy direction it takes us in because the devil's in the details and there are so many welcome distractions and asides that prove as rewarding as the main plot. That it's anchored by two perfectly cast, astonishingly talented actors making their big screen debuts only enhances the feeling we've been dropped into something special and may as well just enjoy the ride. If the knock against PTA has been that he's a superior director to writer, this film won't serve as the strongest counterargument with its unorthodox narrative structure, but that's splitting hairs considering how few equal him in either department. Containing certain elements that carry widespread appeal, it'll connect most with fans who couldn't wait to see what he had up his sleeve. And it doesn't disappoint. 

It's 1973 in the San Fernando Valley and 15-year-old actor Gary Valentine (Cooper Hoffman) spots 25-year-old photographer's assistant Alan Kane (Alana Haim) at his high school's picture day and immediately falls for her. After he strikes up a flirtatious conversation and invites her to dinner, she kind of shoots him down, while not entirely dismissing the offer. Much to his surprise, she actually shows up and they embark on a friendship Alana insists is completely platonic. But when Gary needs a chaperone to go to New York for a press tour for a comedy film he's appearing in with actress Lucy Doolittle (Christine Ebersole), Alana agrees to accompany him.

When Alana starts dating Gary's castmate Lance (Skyler Gisondo), a jealous Gary focuses on launching a waterbed company, which she soon joins in on as his assistant. Struggling to balance running the business with whatever their relationship has become, Alana tries to get into acting, earning a coveted audition opposite self-absorbed screen legend Jack Holden (Sean Penn). Meanwhile, Gary must deliver a waterbed to psychotic, mercurial film producer Jon Peters (Bradley Cooper). But even amidst this ongoing craziness and their lives moving in seemingly divergent directions, Gary and Alana always seem to circle back to each other. 

Loosely inspired by the life of Anderson's friend, child actor and producer Gary Goetzman, who really did start a waterbed company and pinball arcade and appeared in Yours, Mine and Ours with Lucille Ball, the rest is filled in with various stories and recollections from growing up in the Valley during the early 70's. While the most obvious influence on Anderson would seem to be something along the lines of Fast Times at Ridgemont High, the story itself seems almost too offbeat and intimately contained to invite such a broad comparison. It's actually closer in spirit and execution to Richard Linklater's underrated Everybody Wants Some!!, which was set a little later but has a very similar hangout feel that rarely depends on plot.

The script takes many detours, but they're entertaining ones that further the relationship between the two main characters, which is a whole conversation in itself. For all the controversy, it's safe to say that a 25 year-old woman dating a 15 year old boy in a fictional film set in the early 70's probably wouldn't have attracted as much attention and criticism even just five years ago unless the genders were reversed. Viewed in context, there's barely a sexual component to it, the issue's acknowledged, and the relationship itself is so unusually presented throughout, it's easy to forget what we're supposed to be offended by. In other words, you'll probably be too busy laughing with and at their awkwardness to really care. Also, it's 1973, so if you're going to make a film set in that era, accuracy counts, and this plays how it would then, now matter how differently it may look through 2022 glasses.

A similar, though slightly less strong defense can be extended to John Michael Higgins' restaurant owner character, Jerry Frick, who talks in a demeaning Asian accent to his Japanese wives. Is it offensive? Of course, because he is, and that stupidity is pretty much the point of the entire exchange, as we're supposed to notice it because these characters sure won't. And in showing what everyone was once willing to overlook, it becomes a little more culturally accurate and shameful than we were counting on. Of course, all of this is just a reaction to a reaction, as we're too caught up in what's happening with Gary and Alana to worry how about how badly people behaved in the early seventies.

The two leads not only create magic together onscreen, but individually convey a quirkiness and relatability that's just right for whom they're playing. While Cooper Hoffman is the late Philip Seymour Hoffman's son and while there's definitely a physical resemblance, he conveys an entirely different vibe in this role, playing a protagonist that'll remind many of William Miller from Almost Famous if he was infused with the nerdy bravado of Rushmore's Max Fischer. Outgoing and even a little devious in trying to accomplish his goals, he's an old 15 and knows it, as Hoffman's so good at playing this kid whose ambitious bluster hides the fact that he's not quite experienced enough for whatever comes next. He fakes it until he makes it, before faking it some more.  

Like Gary, Alana's an endearing mess spinning in different directions, only lacking the drive and questioning why she's hanging out with him and his teenage friends. As this walking quarter-life crisis, Haim pretty much owns the film and her casting's a masterstroke in the sense that the indie singer looks as if she could have stepped out of a time machine from the 1970's while radiating a natural, effortless charisma that promises a very bright acting future. Blurring the lines even further, Alana Kane's family is played by Haim's real life one, with sisters and HAIM bandmates, Danielle and Este making appearances alongside their parents. Even if Haim did this once and went back to her day job, her work opposite Hoffman would still be hilariously unforgettable, as are the scenes she shares with Sean Penn as this a William Holden-inspired actor who takes an interest in Alana. We're not quite sure what to make of that, until we are, and then the whole thing flies off the rails when Tom Waits enters the picture as an unhinged director indulging his friend's worst and wildest impulses.

An intriguing sub-plot in which Alana works for Los Angeles mayoral candidate Joel Wachs (Benny Safdie) doesn't go where you'd expect, proving to be one of many examples of Anderson fictionalizing historical facts to better fit the picture he's painting. But the real scene stealer is Bradley Cooper, who's take on real-life producer Jon Peters is an amalgamation of every insane, hyper aggressive 70's studio exec with the volume cranked to eleven. Gary and Alana's adventure in delivering his waterbed comprises the film's most electric and hysterical sequence of events, as we hold our breathe waiting for this lunatic to completely snap.

As would be expected for a film titled after an L.A. record store chain, the soundtrack is loaded with era-specific hits and even some obscure but no less inspired musical choices that compliment Jonny Greenwood's score and are perfectly incorporated the narrative. Songs from Todd Rundgren, David Bowie, Donovan, The Doors, Sonny and Cher, Paul McCartney and Wings and others might make it the most musically packed film of PTA's career, nearly doubling as the ultimate "Best of" seventies compilation.  

Anderson's willingness to take the characters on these comedic tangents is what sets this apart from most in its realm. You can practically hear the accusations that the film's about nothing, with the machinations of the plot taking a backseat to a mood and sense of nostalgia that's evoked, even for those who may not have come of age during the specific period. There's just so much to enjoy and take in here, even if viewers may be scratching their heads at all of its delightful eccentricities. Where Licorice Pizza ranks on the PTA scale will vary across the board, but love it or not, the longer this sits the more oddly memorable it becomes, proving in the end to deliver exactly what we came for.

The Tree of Life

Director: Terrence Malick
Starring: Brad Pitt, Sean Penn, Jessica Chastain, Hunter McCracken, Laramie Eppler, Tye Sheridan, Joanna Going
Running Time: 138 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Certain films warrant endless discussion and analysis only minutes after the final credits roll. Those who write about movies know them well since they go running to the keyboard to spill their thoughts and others quickly talk about with friends to see if they're on the same page. Terrence Malick's The Tree of Life meets all the qualifications of a film that should be deeply analyzed and picked apart (and it is already by many), yet when it ended the last thing I wanted to do was write about it or talk to anyone. I just wanted to sit there and let it sink in. Then I wanted to be alone to reflect on it. Less a film than a symphony, interpretation and analysis is fun, but futile considering each individual will bring however much or little of themselves they want to it.  What it all means could be summed up as "everything," but that still doesn't even really touch it. We're born into this world, make connections with different people that can be fleeting or not, and then we leave it, never pausing to consider whether there's a universal scheme in place hurling us toward our inevitable destination. We've seen movies try to tackle the topic but this is the first to make sure it's felt completely.

Similar to a collage of dreams or memories, everything is presented in a non-linear format rather than in a traditional narrative structure. Scenes flow freely to form emotions rather than necessarily tell a story, which is sort of a first. Almost embarrassingly messy and over-ambitious, time will have to judge it's worth as a true masterpiece, but this does feel like something monumentally important that should be talked about for a while to come. No matter which side of the fence you fall on in terms of its quality, there's no denying it's unlike anything we've seen recently, and deserves respect even from those who can't bring themselves to admire it.  It's a game-changer that pushes the medium in a new direction and demands all its layers be peeled away an image at a time. Whether it's as altering an experience as the reclusive Malick intended it to be for will be argued over multiple viewings and succeeding years but this does feel like the movie he's slowly been building toward his entire career, if not his whole life.

The fragmented, stream-of-consciousness narrative centers around different, but intrinsically linked timelines. It opens with a series of dreamlike images, flashbacks and whispery voice overs before shifting to the arrival of a telegram informing Mrs. O'Brien (Jessica Chastain) of the death of her 19 year-old son, presumably overseas at war (Vietnam?) but we can't be sure since Malick leaves it to us to fill in all the details. She notifies her husband, Mr. O'Brien (Brad Pitt) of the news via telephone, but it's not until much later when we've learned enough to properly put in context their differing reactions. Then we shift to present-day with their other son, a middle-aged Jack O' Brien (Sean Penn) depressed and emotionally absent as he goes through the motions of his daily life as an architect, haunted by the anniversary of his brother's death and memories of their childhood together.

Before flashing back to their days growing up in Waco, Texas in the 1950's (a stretch that accounts for the majority of the film's running time) there's an extended 18 minute-sequence depicting the creation of the universe that very heavily recalls the "stargate" sequence at the end of 2001: A Space Odyssey in that it doesn't use computer generated imagery and looks and feels real (incidentally, the same special effects supervisor, Douglas Trumbull, worked on both). And that film is really the only point of reference and entryway we have into to this one which otherwise resembles little that's come before and seems to make-up a visual language of its own as it hypnotically unfolds.

The sequence culminates with scenes involving dinosaurs that at first glance seem only present for historical reasons, but in hindsight their actions (like the apes in 2001) take on a very concrete significance in relation to human events that occur later.  You may as well hear Kubrick clapping from beyond the grave since the entire project seems to represent exactly the kind of ambitious vision he'd undoubtedly support, or attempt to film himself, if he were still living. For better or worse, his version would likely be emotionally colder, steering clear of the looser, more impressionistic moments Malick loses himself in and surrenders to. 

Taking up most of the film's second half is the childhood sequence in 1950's Waco, which contains some of the most remarkably accurate and evocative representations of childhood that could be put on a screen. Emmanuel Lubezki's photography, Jack Fisk's production design and Alexandre Desplat's score all converge to create a perfect storm of atmosphere so palpable that you may as well be there with the characters. For about an hour straight it feels as if you're in the hands of a master magician rather than a filmmaker as we witness the lives of the O'Brien family through a series of memories and images not all necessarily presented in order but feeling like a full-blown time travel trip through the defining moments of a life.

We follow young Jack (Hunter McCracken) from birth into adolescence and tracks his relationship with his two brothers, especially the younger, favored brother R.L. (Laramie Eppler). The three boys both fear and respect their father Mr. O' Brien (demanding to be called "father," not "dad"), a strict, disciplinarian who's own failure at becoming a musician has resulted in behavior that borders on abusiveness, and often crosses the line into it. The  more empathetic, almost ethereal Mrs. O' Brien is childlike in her demeanor, and while not naive to her husband's faults, protects and comforts children without ever daring to cross him. So terrifying is his behavior that an impromptu business trip creates one of the more memorable scenes when the children celebrate his absence, and Jack's pent-up id runs wild in surprising ways, confirming he may actually need more of his father's rules and discipline than he thinks. How Jack internalizes this rocky relationship with his father not only comprises the meat of the childhood chapter, but also figures into the controversial Sean Penn section, even if explaining exactly how would probably require the length of a novel and numerous spoilers, at least as far as it's possible to "spoil" a plot this abstract.

The Waco chapter of the film is so flawless that it's hard to reconcile where everything else fits in terms of quality. The knee jerk reaction is to assume Malick sets the bar so high for himself that he can't top it with what's left, but I'm not sure I buy into that. For me the most emotionally gut-wrenching scene of the film is when the family leave their home after Mr. O'Brien is transferred from his job and Jack gets one last glance through the car's window. It feels like a death of sorts and in many ways it is since his brother will eventually die and his childhood is preserved in this period of his life, and that moment. We all have those snapshots stored in our minds which is why this family's story resonates so strongly and there's an inescapable temptation for us to reflect on own memories as we watch it, substituting ourselves in for the characters.

This is easily the best work Brad Pitt's ever done and it's a testament to just how much else is going on here that the underrated performance is flying under the radar of most. It's because of Pitt that Mr. O'Brien doesn't come off as an evil, abusive tyrant as he very well could have, but a demanding parent whose anger comes from wanting a better life for his boys than he had for himself.  You can almost understand why he does the things he does without necessarily agreeing with any of those decisions or condoning his treatment of the boys.

Carrying much of the film in what's far from a supporting role, Pitt has never been one to ever phone it in for a paycheck and this is the latest, possibly greatest, example of him using his clout to star in a difficult, challenging work that pushes him further as an actor, often at the expense of leaving money on the table angering fans who came to see this only because of his star power. You'd figure audiences would have learned their lesson last year after Clooney burned them with The American or at least realized from the commercials that this wasn't going to be the Pitt/Penn dinosaur hunter movie they expected. But as strong as Pitt is, relative unknowns Hunter McCracken and Jessica Chastain manage to stay right there with him, the former with a quiet intensity in his face that speaks volumes even in complete silence.

While at first it's hard to make heads or tails of the Sean Penn section of the film and the eventual ending, it's accurate to say anyone who hated the finale of Lost, will despise it. What's interesting about the presumably "present day" scenes involving adult Jack is how open to interpretation they are. In one sense it seems as if Jack is imprisoned in this cold, modern world with soulless skyscrapers surrounding him, an unfulfilling job, a house so sterile it doesn't even appear lived in, and a distant, possibly non-existent, relationship with his wife. Yet it could also be looked at as if Jack isn't trapped in this existence as much as he's a prisoner of his own memories and therefore unable to appreciate the modern beauty around him, at least until he comes to terms with his past.

It can't be merely a coincidence that these are are the first present-day scenes the reclusive Malick has ever filmed when you consider most of his movies (and this is only his fifth in four decades) seem to have a reverence for the past that implies no matter how good or bad things were then, they'll always inevitably be better than now. That could help explain why this challenging, indulgent portion of the film exists and why most viewers would have problems with it. Any disappointment felt watching the ending moments of the film in relation to the incredible childhood chapter that came earlier can be explained away by the fact that the protagonist is supposed to feel it more, and clearly he does.

This obviously isn't a film for casual moviegoers, but I can't help but laugh at the irony of that statement since I've always considered myself one. But after seeing this with an audience yelling at the screen with impatience and confusion while the rest walked out at various points demanding a refund (for a free screening!), I'm starting to second guess that. Apparently, my experience wasn't an isolated incident so those who can enjoy, or even just appreciate the film for what it is (and isn't) will have to accept that critics and audiences vehemently disagree. That's not necessarily a negative considering it's a rare gift a film this discussion-ready is dropped in the middle of summer, usually a dead zone for anything of substantial quality. But the most exciting thing about The Tree of Life just might be that a filmmaker aimed this high and didn't let the judgment of public opinion or studio pressure get in the way of him creating a work of art that feels this vast and epic, yet so personal at the same time. Regardless of its outcome, Malick should be credited for realizing his vision since it's doubtful any other filmmaker would have had the guts or skill to go this far with it.

Burning Questions From The Academy Awards

Wow, they weren't kidding about changing the feel of the show were they?

Can Hugh Jackman consider it a success if the telecast runs longer than Viva Loughlin but shorter than Australia?

Not a question, but a statement: "It's Miley!"

No offense meant to him at all but when you see Judd Apatow with Leslie Mann do you think to yourself, "How did he get HER?"

And shouldn't that be inspiring to normal, funny guys everywhere?

Am I wrong to worry about his next film mixing even more dramatic elements (dying!) with the laughs?

How about the new set?

I know they were going for a more intimate feel but didn't that theater look a little crammed?

Were you worried Jackman wasn't joking when he said he was contractually obligated to mention Brad and Angelina during the show?

How hard must it have been to come up with a musical number for Frost/Nixon?

Isn't Anne Hathaway a good sport?

And who knew she was such a great singer?

But were you thinking that could be the only time she'd see the stage all night?

Did Jackman actually sing that he was going to "Frost your Nixon?"

Aren't you excited about Nicolas Cage's new thriller, Knowing (insert sounds of crickets chirping)?

Shouldn't they have just called it Next 2?

Wasn't it a great idea to have previous Oscar winners present the acting categories?

Didn't it seem like less of a good idea when you realized it would extend the show an extra 12 hours?

Whoopie Goldberg won an Oscar?

Can we have that back please?

After Penelope won did you throw all hope out the window that it would be a "night of upsets?"

Once again, how exactly is Milk an "original" screenplay?

And didn't Dustin Lance Black's speech further confirm that it's just a message movie?

Did you know how the night would go once Slumdog won best Adapted Screenplay?

Who would have guessed the camera would pan to Brad and Angelina when Aniston was presenting?

Will the media ever let that go?

Doesn't it seem like WALL-E should be winning or at least nominated for more than just Best Animated Feature?

Especially in a year like THIS?

Was that the sound of Ben Lyons screaming giddily when Benjamin Button won Best Make-Up and Art Direction?

Speaking of Lyons screaming giddily, isn't Robert Pattinson kind of scary looking?

Is Joaquin Phoenix gonna kick Stiller's ass now or what?

In just a couple of years Phoenix goes from Oscar contender to punchline?

Does a major hottie always get to host the sci-tech awards?

And are they already lining Megan Fox up for next year?

How great was it to see Pineapple Express acknowledged (at least in some way)?

Did Seth Rogen lose some weight or what?

Have you ever seen so many musical numbers?

And now that musicals are back, is it okay if they go away for a little while again?

If they had to be on the show, weren't Zac Efron and Vanessa Hudgens at least incorporated into it in the most painless, least offensive way possible?

If someone where to beat Ledger could they at least take comfort in the fact that they'd still be a more deserving winner than Cuba Gooding Jr.?

Did Cuba had to clear his busy schedule for this?

Are we human or are we dancer? (not related to show, just felt like asking)

Didn't Kevin Kline's intro perfectly encapsulate what made Ledger's performance in The Dark Knight so special?

And how awesome was it that he referenced the memorable scene with the Joker sticking his head out the car window?

Did Michael Bay edit that action movie montage?

Who's idea was it to include Indiana Jones and The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull in a montage celebrating achievements in special effects?

Were you hoping Christian Bale and Shane Hurlbut would present the Cinematography Oscar?

Wasn't that Jimmy Kimmel commercial with Tom Cruise hilarious?

Didn't the commercial breaks seem much shorter this year?

As the night progressed could The Dark Knight Best Picture and Director snubs have been more painfully obvious?

Didn't Jerry Lewis look pretty damn good considering every other week there seem to be rumors that he's dying?

Didn't it seem like Jim Carrey should have been presenting that award instead of Eddie Murphy?

Was it me or was John Legend really struggling through that song?

And considering how little time the Best Song nominees were given, didn't Peter Gabriel kind of have point not wanting to perform?

Were you hoping M.I.A. would show up?

So, should A.H. Rahman mail or hand deliver that Oscar to Bruce in Asbury Park?

Was it me or did Queen Latifah singing through the death montage not come off as tasteless as you thought it would?

Was there any doubt Paul Newman would rank highest on the applause-o-meter?

Even after Indy 4 is Spielberg still the most inspired choice to present Best Director?

After seeing Danny Boyle's reaction to his win did it make you forgive and forget all the Slumdog overexposure this past month?

Didn't the five previous winners presenting Best Actress give the moment a more personalized, less scripted feel?

And didn't Shirley MacLaine not only come across as sincere, but like she actually saw and respected Hathaway's performance?

Or is MacLaine a much better actress than we've given her credit for?

Wasn't this method a clever way to showcase (stroke the egos of) the presenters as well as the winners?

Can you believe that group that was up there?

Did you remember that Marion Cotillard won the Oscar last year?

And how about all the English she's learned since then?

Kate Winslet couldn't have possibly been surprised...right?

Wasn't De Niro's comment about Penn playing straight the line of the night?

Was anyone except Penn, his wife and Gus Van Sant NOT pulling for Mickey?

And if he hadn't mentioned him in the speech would there have been a riot?

Has Penn ever given a more eloquent speech in his life?

Didn't the Best Picture montage unintentionally highlight how much better the older films were?

Maybe just a little bit of a stretch juxtaposing Frost/Nixon with Citizen Kane?

Did you cringe thinking what Best Picture winners could possibly be interspersed with The Reader?

Were your worst fears realized when it ended up being The Graduate, American Beauty and Schindler's List?

Didn't that feel really awkward?

And does that give even more ammunition to haters of The Reader?

But didn't Frost/Nixon and Benjamin Button come off looking the best next to those classic films?

And is that a telling sign?

If Boyle winning didn't do it, when you saw those kids up there accepting the Best Picture Oscar did you then forgive and forget all the Slumdog overexposure this past month?

Am I thrilled that I nailed 20 out of 24 categories in my predictions?

Isn't it hilarious that despite all the changes the show still clocked in at 3 1/2 hours?

But didn't it at least FEEL shorter?

And couldn't you just not wait to flip over and hear Ben Lyons' analysis of the show?

Is Hugh Jackman the only host in recent years who didn't look nervous and actually seemed to be enjoying himself?

Wouldn't they be crazy not to ask him back next year?

Why did we even have comedians hosting it?

How many of those upcoming 2009 releases do you think will actually be competing for Oscars next year?

Remember this time last year when everyone thought Hamlet 2 would be the film to beat at this year's ceremony?

Didn't just that brief clip of Tarantino's Inglorious Basterds look pretty sick?

Did you crack up at their inclusion of Terminator Salvation?

Given who's in it, is it okay if I just go ahead and declare 500 Days of Summer my favorite film of 2009 already?

Shouldn't the producers get major props for actually changing things up and delivering a somewhat exciting show?

And can't you see it increasing interest in the films (well, one at least)?

Milk

Director: Gus Van Sant
Starring: Sean Penn, Emile Hirsch, Josh Brolin, Diego Luna, James Franco
Running Time: 128 min.
Rating: R

*** (out of ****)

There are few directors working today as unpredictable and inconsistent as Gus Van Sant. Always straddling that line between art house fare (Elephant, Last Days, Paranoid Park) and the mainstream (Good Will Hunting, Finding Forrester) he’s the rare filmmaker for which you can honestly claim that you haven’t a clue what to expect each time out. With Milk he’s made the most standard, mainstream film of his career, which is kind of ironic considering the subject he’s tackling this time around. Had another less skilled director had made it and it covered another less timely topic I’m not sure it would be garnering the adulation and awards buzz it has. It’s a good film, just not a great one like you’ve been led to believe.

For those who disagree and feel Milk should be among the five films nominated for Best Picture let me just refer you to one scene. In it, Harvey Milk, in one of his three bids to become the first openly gay official elected to public office, receives an anonymous, emotional phone call from a teen who had come out to his parents and is now contemplating suicide. Then the camera pans down to reveal…he’s also in a wheelchair. Supposedly, this event did happen but I’m judging its authenticity on the screen, not in real life. As a stand-alone scene I can forgive it (I’ve seen worse), but what’s troublesome is the nagging feeling that it’s in some way an accurate representation of the film’s motives. It tells you what to feel instead of just letting you feel it and marks off boxes on its historical checklist as it goes along, never fully engaging you emotionally. The result is a film I respected a great deal, but couldn’t rally around like I desperately wanted.

Arguing its greatness solely on the basis that it houses one of Sean Penn’s most dynamic and interesting performances in the title role have a very strong argument because he supplies whatever emotion is lacking elsewhere, and it’s almost enough. He shows a jubilant side of himself here as an actor that we haven’t seen before. In all the roles he’s played I don’t think I’ve ever seen tackle a man who’s actually happy with his life and is doing what he wants to do. It’s thrilling to see him actually smiling for a change after all the morose, tortured protagonists he’s brilliantly portrayed over the years. Harvey Milk may have met a tragic end but he did it doing what he loved and his infectious warmth is in every one of Penn’s words and mannerisms, which is news because I had my doubts as to whether he was an actor even capable of projecting warmth.
It’s a good thing Penn is this strong because Dustin Lance Black’s script doesn’t make him the easiest guy in the world to root for nor does it portray those he was trying to help in the most favorable light. At times during the picture I also questioned the protagonist’s motives in asking everyday citizens to vote for him BECAUSE he’s gay. The movie stacks the deck in that regard, but being gay wasn’t just a political platform for Milk, it was his life.

While the film seems to do him justice it’s more of a “big issue movie” than a biopic. Milk would always open his speeches with “I’m Harvey Milk and I’m going to recruit you,” but that may as well be Van Sant’s motto. He comes off as unnecessarily trying to recruit us for a cause. I consider myself fairly liberal and love the biopic as a genre and even I found he was beating the drum very hard. My thoughts on the film will read as somewhat negative only because given what I’ve heard about its quality I can’t help but feel disappointed. Outside of Penn’s performance there just isn’t a whole lot here, but what is here is done well enough to at least earn a look.

The film begins in the early ‘70’s with Milk (Penn) and his lover, Scott Smith (James Franco) packing their bags and leaving the hustle and bustle in New York for San Francisco where they open a small camera shop on Castro Street. The neighborhood is slowly transforming into a gay hangout, which doesn’t sit well with other storeowners and local politicians. They consider that “lifestyle choice” immoral, and despite depending on them for revenue, refuse to treat them as equals in any way. Out of this Milk emerges as a local activist and hero (eventually elected city supervisor in his third bid) while the debate regarding gay rights reaches a fever pitch on the national level.

The widespread homophobia is powered by pop star/evangelist Anita Bryant and California Senator John Briggs (Denis O’Hare) whom Milk battles in the fight against Proposition 6, which would give schools the right to fire gay teachers. Anointed “The Mayor of Castro Street,” Milk grew a legion of followers including dependable sidekick Cleve Jones (Emile Hirsch), lesbian campaign manager Anne Kronenberg (Alison Pill) and new boyfriend Jack Lira (Diego Luna in an entertainingly awful performance). All these characters are really just colorful wallpaper though and at moments disappointingly call to attention the worst gay stereotypes.

I’m not spoiling anything by revealing that Milk (along with Mayor George Moscone) is assassinated by fellow Supervisor Dan White (Josh Brolin) in 1978 (that information is dispensed in the first scene). A man who worried that he’d accomplished nothing by the age of 40 ended up accomplishing more in the next 8 years than most could in a lifetime. Ironically, the relationship between Milk and White and the details leading up to and including the assassination I found to be the most fascinating aspect to the film. White isn’t portrayed how you’d expect and if someone had told me halfway through that they actually sympathized with White’s situation (at least before he completely loses his marbles) I could see where they were coming from. That Brolin plays him with such depth and nuance only reinforces that. Because Black’s script is essentially a gay history lesson Penn has to carry everything as the flamboyant and charismatic Milk, and does he ever. His energy and enthusiasm are the beating pulse of the picture and he can comfortably start preparing his Oscar acceptance speech. I wish he had more to work with, but that he’s given this little and turns it into so much proves just how good he is. He literally BECOMES Harvey Milk.

Cinematographer Harris Savides does his usual great work although I’d argue he did one better in interpreting 1970’s San Francisco in last year’s Zodiac. Van Sant’s use of actual archival footage doesn’t really help the film’s cause as it at times makes the endeavor feel like any other cut-and-paste biopic you could catch on The History Channel. Nor does his portrayal of gays as sex maniacs and drug addicts who streak down the street naked. Of course, this is more a reflection of the times and situation than anyone’s sexual preference, but it’s a tall order to expect viewers (especially straight ones) to make that distinction. As I was leaving the theater I overheard someone remark that they felt the film was “too gay.” While those wouldn’t have been my choice of words I kind of understood what he meant.

A curiously under-reported aspect to the film is that there were many sex scenes that would make even the most tolerant, open-minded filmgoer wince. I noticed many in my theater squirming uncomfortably in their seats. If Van Sant put them in to just simply give the most accurate portrayal possible then it’s fine but if he did for shock value or thought it would be a riot to rub uptight audience’s noses in it then it's not. I can’t speak to his intentions but for those who don’t think the latter is possible consider this: How many movies open with two total strangers randomly making out then running home and jumping in the sack? It’ll be interesting to see how the allegedly homophobic Academy reacts to the film considering just a few years ago they wouldn’t even honor Brokeback Mountain, which was essentially a love story that happened to feature two gay characters.
You could say it’s hypocritical of me to point out so many of the film’s flaws yet still recommend it but the truth of the matter is that it’s a well-made, exceptionally acted film that kept me interested, but always at an arms distance away. My duty is to review it as a film not a potential Best Picture contender but when something is this widely overpraised it almost becomes impossible to separate the two. If this were nominated for the big prize (and heaven forbid it actually won) it would be one of the most underwhelming choices in years. In many ways I feel about this film how many have told me they feel about another awards contender this year, Slumdog Millionaire, meaning that it’s good, but all the love needs to be taken down a few notches. I guess since this is based on a true story it’s allowed to be as preachy and uplifting as it wants while Slumdog gets unfairly dragged through the mud and labeled as manipulative.

Harvey Milk’s story is inspiring and this covers a timely topic but the inherent contradiction in it is that gay rights should be a human issue, not a political one. In exploring the life of a political figure, Van Sant has problems reconciling the two and what sometimes results is a film pushing an agenda. Luckily, Penn was there to save him, if just barely. Milk is a reminder that Oscars should be given to great films, not great causes, no matter how important or relevant they may be.

Into The Wild

Director: Sean Penn
Starring: Emile Hirsch, Marcia Gay Harden, William Hurt, Jena Malone, Catherine Keener, Vince Vaughn, Hal Holbrook, Kristen Stewart, Brian Dierker
Running Time: 148 min.
Rating: R

**** (out of ****)

"I read somewhere... how important it is in life not necessarily to be strong... but to feel strong."
-Christopher McCandliss

Sean Penn’s Into The Wild isn’t merely a great movie, or just the visual documentation of an incredible journey. That’s selling it short. What really is, at its core, is a life-altering experience that reaches deep and touches your soul. Usually after I’ve seen a movie I give it some time to sit in my mind a little and let it "sink in" before attempting to write a review. It took a little longer this time since I actually had to emotionally compose myself when the film reached its conclusion.

It’s been about 8 years since I cried during a movie, but I guess I must have been due because I completely lost it during this one. And The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences have some serious explaining to do. I can deal with them not nominating works of deserving quality. That always happens. What I can’t deal with is them overlooking an important American cinematic achievement that speaks to who we are as individuals. Of all the Oscar snubs I’ve seen over the years, this is one of the worst.

When it ended I knew I witnessed something unique and special but it’s difficult to put the exact feelings into words. I’ve been trying to figure out why the movie moved me to the level it did what can be taken away from a story that can be viewed as either a modern day tragedy or an uplifting story of independence. You’re not sure whether to be angry at or feel sorry for this admittedly selfish protagonist and Penn wisely doesn’t force us to make such a determination. He’s not asking us to like McCandliss or condone his decision to abandon his life and family, but only to understand what he was doing made sense to him. Foolish as it may seem to us and those he encountered in his travels, he left this Earth on his terms. The degree of empathy you feel for him or his family may vary, but your heart will break for the people whose lives he touched a long the way.

Penn’s film adaptation of Jon Krakauer’s bestselling novel employs multiple timelines to translate the story of Christopher McCandless (Emile Hirsch), a top straight "A" student who upon graduation from Emory University in 1990 donates his $24,000 in savings to OXFAM, burns all the money in his wallet and sets off on a 2-year hitchhiking trek to Alaska. We join him at the end of that journey with Chris (going by the alias "Alexander Supertramp") hauled up inside his Alaskan "Magic Bus" as we’re given the details of the trip that brought him there. Flashbacks narrated by Chris’ sister Carine (Jena Malone) tell of their troubled family life that led him to rebel this dramatically. Their father (William Hurt), a strict disciplinarian who emotionally and physically abused their mother (Marcia Gay Harden), was arrogantly oblivious to the additional pain he was casuing his children. Talk of divorce never actually materialized, which just made the suffering drag on that much longer.

Chris’ parents have high expectations for the overachieving student to attend Harvard Law School after graduation but don’t realize he’s the type of person whose beliefs don’t come wrapped nicely in a box and can’t just be bought off with a new car. Material possessions are of little value to him as he questions society’s role for him, and many of those questions are good ones. A lot of movies have attempted to explore post-graduation angst but I think this is the only one to really ever get it right. It’s that feeling of not wanting to do anything and be completely freed from the shackles of responsibility placed on us by society and our parents. It’s every son or daughter’s worst nightmare to wake up one morning and discover they’ve turned into their mom or dad. This movie understands that. You could write Chris off as just an angry young punk but doing so would be failing to acknowledge that he brings up some real issues that we’re afraid to bring out into the open. And does the fact that we’re afraid to talk about them help create a Christopher McCandless?

The relationship between Chris and Carine represents the rarest sibling dynamic depicted in movies: A brother and sister who not only get along, but actually love each other very much. They lean on each other for support in the midst of their parents’ battles instead of choosing sides and drifting apart. She understands Chris’ decision to leave even though she can’t fully support it and the more lies and secrets he learns about his parents the more determined he becomes to continue on his ill-fated journey and cut them out of his life completely. And if it means cutting out his sister also then so be it.

It’s worth pondering whether his family's "punishment" is truly deserved or Chris is punishing himself more than anyone else. Jena Malone’s narration is the unsung crown jewel of the film, depicting all those conflicted feelings and her delivery of some of the script’s most emotionally stirring lines convinced me if she weren’t an actress she’d find permanent work doing voice-overs. The decision to use narration can make or break a movie and this is one of the best uses of it imaginable. The story couldn’t be told without it.

It’s insulting to call the individuals Chris encounters on his trip "characters." They’re real people with hopes, fears and strong opinions about life. Each of these actors, no matter how much screen time they’re given, flesh them out completely. We don’t want his time or our time with them to ever end. Vince Vaughn’s role as a farmer who briefly employs Chris is miniscule but it represents the most restrained work of his entire career. It’s the only time I’ve seen him not playing a goofier version of himself and mocking every line he delivers. He’s a real working-class person you care about and a voice of reason you hope can get through to this kid who clearly isn’t listening.

Catherine Keener and Brian Dierker play middle-aged hippies with relationship problems of their own and help center the story with their homey, down-to-Earth charm. They respect Chris’ free spirit, but like Vaughn’s character, see through him and can’t completely condone the direction he’s chosen to take his life. Kristen Stewart’s role as a teen singer who’s the ultimate temptation for Chris is smaller, but she’s unforgettable in it.

Hal Holbrook’s Academy Award nominated supporting performance comes late in the film but in just only 10 minutes he truly becomes Ron Franz, a lonely aging man who’s let time slip him by and becomes almost a surrogate grandfather to Chris. Something is awakened in both of them and when it’s time for Chris to move on to the final, inevitable leg of the journey his reaction becomes the beating pulse of the picture. I’ve always been a fan of Holbrook’s work in underrated gems like Capricorn One and Creepshow, but he never got the mainstream recognition he always richly deserved as being one of our most reliable supporting actors. I was so thrilled for him at age 83 to be given a role this meaningful that I felt like cheering. Sean Penn gave him the ball, but he ran with it. Regardless of what the Academy’s intentions may have been, this won’t be remembered as a one of those lifetime career sympathy nominations. He earned it as it’s the best role of his long, impressive career. And as tough as it was for me to keep it together during various points of the picture, I may have had the toughest time during Holbrook’s portion.

Emile Hirsch has slowly been building toward this for a while and it’s is an extremely difficult part to pull off well, not just because of the required physical demands (evident by his frightening skeletal deterioration at the end), but of the responsibility that comes with portraying a real person, especially one as complicated and potentially unlikable as Chris. This pushes the boundaries of what great acting can be. It’s a transformation, and it’s unfathomable that the Academy didn’t deem it worthy of recognition because this is usually the kind of immersive and self-sacrificing performance they shower with praise. 2007 may have been a strong year for films but it wasn’t THAT strong and I could name stronger ones off the top of my head (’94 and ’99 come to mind immediately). There’s no excuse for this.

Even worse are the oversights in other key Oscar categories. This isn’t a dialogue-heavy film and there are many scenes where it’s up to Eddie Vedder’s music and Eric Gautier’s gorgeous cinematography to tell the story. So many times I wanted to just hit PAUSE on my DVD player and take in the scenery. Every shot is like a love letter to nature. And who would have thought Vedder’s music could fit this so story so perfectly? There were about three or four songs in the picture that were so far superior to anything the Academy chose to nominate this year, or even in the past few years. It’s rare when music compliments a film this well.

There’s a point of no return for Chris and it comes in a scene where he gets a glimpse where his life would have been had he followed the road map his parents laid out. It just wasn’t for him and he wasn’t up to faking it anymore. After that moment he’s filled with a renewed sense of purpose in reaching Alaska and we realize then that there’s nothing anyone can do to try to stop him anymore. The most impressive aspect of Hirsch’s performance is how he hints that a small part of him does really want to forgive his parents badly. He just can’t bring himself to do it. I braced myself for what was inevitably coming (not that it made it any easier) but what really took me by surprise was HOW it ended, which I later found out differs from the account in Krakauer’s book. In the film’s beautiful final moments Chris’ and our eyes are opened, awakening us to the world as if we’re seeing it clearly for the very first time.

You could almost view this film as a warning to families everywhere who let issues fester and keep things bottled up inside. This is the worst possible result of that. Anyone harboring grudges and carrying anger will want to think twice about whether that’s really worth it after viewing this film. When it ended I was overcome with mixed emotions and wasn’t sure whether I should be angry at him for emotionally torturing his family or be happy that he stuck with his convictions until the very end living the life he chose for himself.

There was great potential in Chris that was both wasted and completely fulfilled at the same time, as strange as that seems. But I think the part that got to me the most was that he’ll never see those people he befriended on his journey again and there was never a chance to say goodbye. The movie perfectly captures that moment when someone special walks into your life and an important bond is formed, whether or not either party is consciously aware of it at the time. But as deep as those bonds were, there was nothing they could do to prevent this. Only Chris could save himself, and he didn’t want to. Or if he wanted to, he couldn’t.

It’s so ironic that a film like this came from Sean Penn. While a brilliant actor, he’s always come off as an independent minded individual who’s been difficult to get behind and root for, not unlike the protagonist. Maybe that’s partially what drew him to the material. Chris McCandliss may have been out for himself, but Penn wasn’t this time. He’s had a career full of cinematic contributions, but this stands as his greatest…and most important.

It’s been a year of strong films that were exercises in technical expertise, but they also left you cold and depressed when they were over. This is a tragedy, but it isn’t depressing. It’s life affirming. Maybe it’s for the best that it was overlooked at the Oscars because the Academy doesn’t deserve to own any of this film. It’s ours. It contains that extra ingredient that separates four-star movies from masterpieces. That feeling when you’re done watching it that you’ve seen something substantial that will always stay with you. Into The Wild really is about the journey.