The Bikeriders

Director: Jeff Nichols
Starring: Jodie Comer, Austin Butler, Tom Hardy, Michael Shannon, Mike Faist, Boyd Holbrook, Damon Herriman, Beau Knapp, Emory Cohen, Karl Glusman, Toby Wallace, Norman Reedus, Will Oldham
Running Time: 116 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)  

If it's hard enough adapting any non-fiction book into a feature film, one consisting entirely of black-and-white photos and transcribed interviews might seem impossible. But writer/director Jeff Nichols seems to have figured it out with The Bikeriders, a historical crime drama based on journalist Danny Lyon's mid-sixties stint as a member of the infamous Chicago Outlaws Motorcycle Club.

While going the documentary route may have been more expected, Nichols finds a different avenue to explore the humanity beneath this chaos, narratively dissecting the impact of a rebellious subculture that helped define an era that eventually passes them by. It really feels like the last gasp for these outlaws, evoking nostalgia for a period many watching never experienced, but probably wished they had.

In 1965, photojournalist Lyon (Mike Faist) interviews Kathy (Jodie Comer) about her time with the Chicago-based Vandals Motorcyle Club, which founder Johnny (Tom Hardy) was inspired to create after watching Marlon Brando in The Wild Ones. She recounts feeling out of place among a gang of rough and tumble riders at the Vandals' bar, until meeting the brooding, hotheaded Benny (Austin Butler). Immediately attracted to his cool, distant aura, he takes Kathy home on the back of his bike, camping across the street until her angry boyfriend moves out in a huff.

Benny and Kathy begin living together as she gets to know the rest of the club, consisting of reliable Brucie (Damon Herriman), mechanically inclined Cal (Boyd Holbrook), volatile Zipco (Michael Shannon) and bug eater Cockroach (Emory Cohen). But with Vandals chapters soon popping up all over the Midwest, Johnny's had enough, approaching a disinterested Benny to take over leadership duties. Unfortunately, it may be too late, as a new challenger emerges and angry, disaffected youths reeling from the scars of Vietnam come home. With change on the horizon, there's a good chance America's original generation of bikers will be left in the dust. 

Kathy is initially the film's entry point, but it isn't long before this whole interview format takes a backseat to the personal drama surrounding these bikers. It's actually a bit perplexing why the character of Lyon is incorporated to begin with since there's no noticeable on screen attempt to absorb him into the club like the journalist was in reality. Occasionally, Nichols cuts to him questioning Kathy in a biker vest, but that's about the extent of Mike Faist's role. It's a bit off putting at first, but once you're absorbed in the story, this inconsistent framing device isn't given a second thought.

The accuracy of regional accents will always cause debate but Comer really commits to her memorable Midwestern twang. Having no idea how realistic it is or isn't, there's no denying it adds an air of down home folksiness to a character who's supposed to be out of her element in this grungy atmosphere. But as much as the film attempts to put Kathy at its center, Butler owns the screen from the moment he appears in a performance not entirely dissimilar from his Oscar nominated Elvis turn, with a little James Dean mixed in. 

Butler's approach should seem overdone or cliche, but he's just too good to deny, capturing the essence of this introverted, self destructive loner capable of flying off the handle on a whim. He hints there's more bubbling beneath the surface, even as Kathy tries to figure out exactly what. Correctly surmising Benny needs to get out of this club before he gets himself killed, he'll do whatever he wants, even as we question whether that really will solve his anger issues. There's an equally strong chance his association with the Vandals might be the only thing left keeping him sane.  

Tom Hardy is the Brando to Butler's Dean, basically attempting a full-on impersonation of the iconic actor, which he pulls off pretty well, intimidatingly throwing his weight around to maintain some degree of law and order. But between a family and an actual 9-to-5 job, he's getting exasperated as his grip starts to slip. Even when they're not seeking it out first, violence has a way of finding them, but Hardy strikes the right balance between thuggish brute and fair, loyal leader with a heart.

The best scenes involve the Vandals picking fights, pulling pranks, riding through towns and sometimes just sitting around smoking and telling stories, as this loaded cast of recognizable faces distinguish their characters with unmistakably unique personalities. A subplot involving a group of youths led by a knife-wielding delinquent credited as "The Kid" (Toby Wallace) and the arrival of California hippie biker Funny Sonny (Norman Reedus) give the film an extra jolt as it barrels toward the finish line.

There's nothing particularly groundbreaking about The Bikeriders, but it is a well acted, impeccably shot adult drama that fills a needed niche by striving for authenticity. More Hunter Thompson than Cameron Crowe, it finds its voice through the relationships, camaraderie and turmoil among this ragtag gang of outcasts relegated to the fringes. They play by their own rules, until the real world intrudes. But like so many other touchstones, it's fun while it lasts, leaving a cultural footprint that doesn't easily fade.             

The Flash

Director: Andrew Muschietti 
Starring: Ezra Miller, Sasha Calle, Michael Shannon, Ron Livingston, Maribel Verdú, Kiersey Clemons, Antje Traue, Michael Keaton, George Clooney, Jeremy Irons, Temuera Morrison, Saoirse-Monica Jackson, Rudy Mancuso 
Running Time: 144 min.
Rating: PG-13

**The Following Review Contains Major Plot Spoilers For 'The 'Flash' **

★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 

Contained within director Andrew Muschietti's The Flash are glimpses of the project Warner Bros. hoped could give DC's Extended Universe the ammunition it needed to redefine an overexposed genre and finally compete with Marvel. And despite roadblocks like its lead star's highly publicized legal troubles and the announcement of this as a closing chapter of the current DCEU, a genuine sense of optimism did surround that very real belief.

Using the 2011 comic crossover "Flashpoint" for inspiration, this was touted as a sci-fi driven time travel story marking the triumphant return of Michael Keaton as Batman, as well as a handful of other familiar faces. It's also a tale of two movies, as its emotionally resonant central plot is derailed by what sometimes feels like committee-approved fan service. That would be its biggest flaw, if not for the spotty visual effects that take over a memorable final act bustling with AI generated cameos of legends past. 

While there are still some really good ideas in here, it probably comes as little surprise that the film's biggest assets aren't a pair of bickering Barry Allens around which the majority of the action revolves, but Keaton's Batman and an impressive new Supergirl. It might be worth seeing just for their performances, even if each would be better served by a standalone entry of their own. But now, given The Flash's underwhelming reception and a misjudged ending, it's possible neither actor gets an opportunity to play these characters again. And that's the biggest disappointment in what turns out to be a fascinatingly mixed bag. 

In present day, forensic investigator and Justice League member Barry Allen/The Flash (Miller) still carries the trauma over his father Henry's (Ron Livingston) wrongful imprisonment for the murder of his mother Nora (Maribel Verdú) when he was young. Desperately trying to clear his dad's name, a conversation with former college crush and current journalist Iris West (Kiersey Clemons) gives Barry the idea to use the Speed Force to travel back in time and prevent his mom's death. Dismissing dire warnings from friend Bruce Wayne/Batman (Ben Affleck) that changing this could carry disastrous consequences, he goes anyway, attempting to save her in the least disruptive way possible to the timeline. 

Barry's trip is wrought with complications, as he's suddenly stuck in an alternate 2013 with mother Nora still alive, but coming face-to-face with his college-aged self the day he gained the Flash powers. Trapped in an alternate universe without the Justice League, both Barrys must work together to thwart General Zod's (Michael Shannon) invasion of Earth. But they'll need help, which may come from an older version of Bruce Wayne/Batman (Keaton), who they coax out of retirement in hopes of locating Superman. But after instead discovering his imprisoned cousin, Kara Zor-El/Supergirl (Sasha Calle), all four must work together to topple Zod and undo the catastrophic damage Barry accidentally caused.

There are definite parallels to what Marvel recently did with 2021's Spider-Man: No Way Home in incorporating multiverses and various versions of canonical characters. But in some sense, this contrasts what Marvel usually gets right, with DC buckling under the pressure to adopt that model rather than chart a different course. But while this plot draws from a highly regarded comic, a more noticeable influence is Back To The Future, or more directly, the paradoxical Part II. And even as the screenplay fully acknowledges its debt to the trilogy with a number of shout outs and a clever gag involving the aborted casting of Eric Stoltz, we're reminded just how high a bar this is trying to clear.

That Barry's well-intentioned quest involves a parent's death only compounds the butterfly effect, adding personal weight to Batman's involvement since it's a tragedy he knows all too well. Where problems arise are in execution, or rather the mind-numbing interaction between the two Barrys, which becomes the definition of beating a good joke into the ground. The idea of current day Barry showing his reckless and irresponsible younger counterpart the ropes after losing the powers his past self gains does work in principle. But present Barry must have the patience of a saint since this kid's unhinged behavior really tests the nerves, turning a situation initially ripe for comic possibility into the lost Multiplicity sequel no one wanted.

Though Miller excels at playing both and it's the least jarring effects work in the picture, you'll still be counting down the minutes until Keaton arrives. Until then, get used to seeing Barry stuffing his face with calories to maintain his super speed and arguing with the older doppelganger. And there's a nauseating amount of running inside, outside and everywhere else before the two arrive at Wayne Manor to find a reclusive, unkempt Bruce, who clearly hasn't seen much crimefighting since 1992. Initially showing little interest in donning the cape and cowl once more, his change of heart is unusually sudden, but welcome, since the over 70 year-old Keaton slides back into this iconic role as if no time passed at all. 

Not only does the entire film temporarily improve ten-fold with Keaton's arrival, the feuding Barrys become more tolerable when he subtly steps in as a mediator and guiding force. The best scenes take place within in the desolate batcave as the three formulate a plan to retrieve Superman in Siberia and restore older Barry's powers. Of course, it all provides the opportunity to again witness Keaton believably kick ass in the batsuit, putting to shame Affleck's sleepy performance from earlier. 

Michael Shannon looks bored to tears, possibly because the Zod plot feels shoehorned in as an excuse to tie the DC universe together and bring in auxiliary characters. Thankfully, we have Supergirl, played by an actress who redefines the big screen presentation of Kara. From the short pixie cut to that stone cold death stare, Sasha Calle is a real find, conveying an ideal combination of grit and vulnerability, more than proving herself deserving of another shot at this. Unfortunately, due the film's performance and DC's pigheaded future plans to recast every role in sight, she may not get it.

The visual effects do few favors for anyone, but as insane as the last act is, it at least differs from your usual 40 to 45 minute CGI superhero slugfest by centering around an Edge of Tomorrow-like time loop. And it might be fun to poll fans still sore over Luke Skywalker's treatment in The Last Jedi to find out if they're just as disgruntled about how Keaton's arc wraps. It's unlikely they'll care since anything that happens (or doesn't) in superhero multiverses can usually just be wiped out in the blink of an eye. Let's hope that's the case with this Batman and Supergirl, possibly keeping the door open for future appearances after all.

When Barry regains his powers and reenters the Speed Force alongside his 2013 self, this hurls toward a trippy ending that speaks to obsessing over what wasn't. Put in an unenviable position of accepting the lowest moment of his life in order to selflessly prevent worse, the two Barrys get a whirlwind tour of DC's past. This includes the likes of George Reeves and Christopher Reeve's Superman, Helen Slater's Supergirl, Adam West's Batman, audio samplings from Cesar Romero and Jack Nicholson's Joker, and in the deepest cut, Nicolas Cage's Superman from Tim Burton's unproduced Superman Lives. 

Though a few of these appearances bring back bad deepfake memories of Princess Leia in Rogue One, the technology has improved since, with the noticeable exception of a scarily de-aged Cage. Still, it's a moment, in addition to the powerful one Barry shares with his mom that shows how involving this story is when staying the course. The final scene exemplifies that mishmash of tones, with the filmmakers going for a self-referential joke that's not quite as amusing as they think. Supposedly, the original plan was for Keaton to step out of that car instead of Clooney, which would have resulted in a far more satisfying payoff. But at least the latter makes the most of his admittedly goofy Bruce Wayne cameo.

It may be messy, but Keaton and Calle shine, which isn't a knock on Ezra Miller, who excels in a tricky dual role that the writers go comically overboard with. And you start to wonder if those accusations about DC's lack of direction are true and whether this was worth the studio suffering through all that bad press. Superhero fatigue or not, the stakes seemed higher than usual, reinforcing how difficult it is to unlock an event movie's fullest potential. Extended portions of The Flash come close, providing a valuable look at what could have been under better circumstances.                                                      

Knives Out

Director: Rian Johnson
Starring: Daniel Craig, Chris Evans, Ana de Armas, Jamie Lee Curtis, Michael Shannon, Don Johnson, Toni Collette, Lakeith Stanfield, Katherine Langford, Jaeden Martell, Christopher Plummer, Frank Oz, K Callan, Noah Segan, M. Emmet Walsh
Running Time: 130 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

**Warning: The Following Review Contains Major Plot Spoilers**

Rian Johnson's Knives Out distinguishes itself from just about any other recent mainstream film by filling a massive void. It actually feels necessary, resurrecting a sub-genre many have probably forgotten even existed. And in the process, he not only improves the formula, but reminds us just how thrilling a good old fashioned murder mystery can be, especially when executed with this much precision and ingenuity. It's easy to believe there are fewer big screen mysteries because the level of difficulty is so high, both in delivering a satisfying, unpredictable script and directing so many different actors sharing the same scenes. Johnson greatly excels at this, and while its closest cinematic relatives would seem to be something like Clue or Deathtrap, you'd have to be careful not to similarly categorize this as a "whodunnit?"

An inaccurate "whodunnit?" hook would immediately set audiences up for a big reveal or ending twist that may or may not work depending upon whether we feel the culprit is suitably surprising. The players in Johnson's game don't feel like chess pieces to merely be moved across the board until we're left with a killer, but multi-dimensional characters whose motivations and actions make them interesting and complex enough to carry a morality tale all of their own. It's also doubles as a scathing, satirical commentary about wealth and privilege, rightfully earning every comparison it's gotten to Best Picture winner, Parasite, with which it would make an intriguing double-feature.

By getting the"who" question out the way by its mid-point, Johnson takes the pressure off, freeing the script up to focus instead on the "how" and "why." And it's there when you become completely absorbed by the story, recognizing that unlike previous ensemble mysteries, we actually have someone worth rooting for. The story's focus never leaves her, from the first frame up until the last, granting audiences one of the strongest protagonists you could hope to find at the center of such insanity.

When wealthy crime novelist Harlan Thrombey (Christopher Plummer) is found dead with his throat slit in the family's Massachusetts mansion on his 85th birthday, an anonymous tip sends famed private detective Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig) to the residence suspecting foul play. He's joined by Detective Elliott (Lakeith Stanfield) and Trooper Wagner (Noah Segan), local police who are more than ready to rule it a suicide as they begin questioning the eccentric Thrombeys, many of whom Blanc catches in lies and suspects would have strong motives to murder the ailing patriarch.

Leading up to his death, Harlan had seriously strained relationships with most of the family, mainly due to them freeloading off his fortune. He had just fired youngest son Walt (Michael Shannon) from his publishing company, threatened to expose that son-in-law Richard (Don Johnson) was cheating on daughter Linda (Jamie Lee Curtis) and cut off daughter-in-law and hippie lifestyle guru Joni's (Toni Colette's) allowance, which helps pay for granddaughter Meg's (Katherine Langford) college tuition. On the night of his death, he also had a heated verbal confrontation with black sheep grandson, Ransom (Chris Evans). His only confidante was Harlan's nurse and caregiver, Marta Cabrera (Ana de Armas), who soon becomes Blanc's biggest ally in the investigation when he realizes she often hears and sees everything. But even she has a secret, along with an unfortunate propensity to vomit when lying. But as Blanc gets closer to the truth, the Thrombeys may instead end up tearing each other apart over the contents of Harlan's will.

Supposedly, one of Johnson's biggest inspirations writing this was the classic detective series, Columbo, and you can really see how that would be, as the blueprint does faintly echo the style of mysteries you'd expect to see on that show, one of tv's most underrated crime dramas. In it, a seemingly clueless, schlubby-looking title murder detective (incomparably played by Peter Falk) would brilliantly connect all these dots to eventually come to the conclusion of how exactly the perpetrator committed the crime. That person's identity can often be telegraphed early on, making the details the reveal the main event, heavily favoring character development over a traditional "whodunnit."

That series, and especially its classic Steve Spielberg-helmed episode, "Murder By The Book" couldn't have been far from Johnson's mind when deciding to tackle this. Unlike Columbo, Blanc at least seems superficially competent and smoother, if initially unremarkable, as he observes the local officers question each lying family member. We not only get a glimpse of the detective's low-key shrewdness in these moments, but also the clueless and somewhat hilarious selfishness of this dysfunctional family. It's early into the story when we realize Harlan was justifiably sick of all of them, most of whom just so happen to have convenient alibis of some sort. But while the Thrombeys claim they view his nurse Marta as a member of their family and would do anything to help her, the validity of that promise gets shakier the more information we glean about what they truly value.

The more we discover about Marta, the easier it is to see why Harlan holds her in such high regard. Johnson's device of having the character vomit upon lying is crazily brilliant, adding another layer of tension to each scene she shares with Detective Blanc and eventually Chris Evans' obnoxious character, who eventually reveals himself as both more and less than he appears. When Johnson pulls the rug out from under us far earlier than expected and the narrative shifts to Marta's survival, she tries against her better judgment to hide her horrible mistake and survive in a shark tank full of loony Thrombeys. Of course, Blanc is more than a few steps ahead in recognizing she's the key to him piecing together the remains of the puzzle. And this is exactly the kind of quirky, outside-of-the-box role we've been waiting for Daniel Craig to take in his 007 off time, reminding just how much timing and range he demonstrates in supporting character parts, especially something as quirky and dryly comedic as this. 

Ana de Armas is the real discovery here as Marta, managing to remain the film's honest, moral center even when being forced into dishonesty. A shy medical caretaker who just wants to do right, what makes de Armas' performance special is how that quality consistently peaks through in all her actions and mannerisms, no matter how frightened the character seems or how unpredictably insane things get around her. Marta keeps finding these hidden reserves of strength, even as all the other reveal their weaknesses, embarassingly trying to manipulate her. Spoiled, black sheep Ransom tops that list, with Chris Evans relishing in this guy's inadequecies and stealing nearly every scene he's in, uproariously clashing with every member of his family, each of whom hate him a little more than the next. The feeling is more than mutual, leading to his now infamous scene in which he individually singles all of them out with a choice expletive.

Just as you've never seen Craig or Evans like this, Toni Colette similarly surprises as the irresponsible Joni, a flighty Gwyneth Paltrow-like lifestyle guru who owns a GOOP-like company. Her and daughter Meg are clearly set up as the most liberal of the clan, but despite a heated political argument with Don Johnson's ultra-conservative Richard, both reveal themselves as close-minded to Marta's situation as he is. That's most disappointingly true of Meg, whom Katherine Langford plays as her closest confidante, only to quickly turn when Harlan's fortune enters the equation, almost reflexively sucked into the vortex of her self-serving family. It also says a lot that Michael Shannon isn't playing the craziest or most unstable character, but still delivers his fair share of insanity as Harlan's entitled son.

It would almost be too easy if the Thrombeys were all just one-dimensionally terrible people, but they're not, with a few even demonstrating varying degrees of likability. It's that they're priorities are so messed up that make them the story's antagonists and allow us to root for their comeuppance in the end. They're not merely "suspects" and their alleged involvement in the crime, if you could even consider it one, is almost beside the point. This could have been aspect some viewers had problems with, especially those expecting the entire film to revolve around a reveal. We do we get something similar, but better, as Blanc gives a detailed explanation that makes logical sense, while revealing truths about its characters that confirm our investment in them.

The third act helps further establish Marta as the only trustworthy person in Harlan's life, even if no one in the family understands this, as shown by their immediate accusation that she must have been sleeping with him to be left everything in his will. And of course they would think that, given every relationship they've likely had in their lives transactionally revolved around sex or money, rendering them oblivious to how two people could share a connection that doesn't depend on either. Harlan realizes she made a big mistake, but an innocent one that would carry far worse consequences for her illegal immigrant family than a physically incapacitated octogenarian whose relatives treat him like garbage. And the true brilliance in Johnson's screenplay comes to light when we discover it wasn't her mistake at all, and Blanc's unraveling of Ransom's plan comes as a direct result of both her skills as a nurse and genuinely good heart.

When the film's sensational final minutes expose Ransom as the sociopath he is, but the rest are barely any better, as Marta stares down on them from the balcony of her newly bequeathed estate. The Thrombeys are left scrambling in their former driveway, finding themselves for the first time on the outside looking in. Or, exactly where they belong. It's a twist as worthy of Rod Serling as Agatha Christie, and a reminder of the tightrope walk required to successfully pull off socio-political satire. Johnson lets the characters take the reigns, and the rest organically falls into place, as the best genre deconstructions do. The right person is left standing because she's deserving. It's a kick in the gut and a reward for viewers paying attention to all the details. Not so bad for a director still inexplicably being raked over the coals for a certain "controversial" Star Wars entry. But with a razor-sharp script and an eclectic, super-talented cast all being used to their maximum potential, it's impossible to deny this as a far better platform for his talents. Bring on the sequel.  

Elvis & Nixon

Director: Liza Johnson
Starring: Kevin Spacey, Michael Shannon, Alex Pettyfer, Johnny Knoxville, Colin Hanks, Evan Peters, Tate Donovan, Sky Ferreira, Tracy Letts, Ahna O' Reilly, Ashley Benson, Dylan Penn
Running Time: 86 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

On the morning of December 21, 1970, a meeting took place at the White House between two of the most important and controversial public figures of the 20th century. It created a moment immortalized in a legendary photograph that became the the National Archives' most requested image. Thankfully, Liza Johnson's Elvis & Nixon isn't exactly a movie about that, at least in the strictest sense. If it was, there's a chance we'd be exposed to a reality that's nowhere near as funny or subversively entertaining as what ends up on screen. And while we all probably could have lived without the disturbing knowledge that "The King" and the disgraced 37th President of the United States share an alarming amount in common, isn't it kind of strangely unsurprising? The casting would imply the film's a big joke, and while that's true to an extent, it's at least a really funny joke that also works as a deep dive into the complicated personalities of these two eccentric figures.

Clocking in at a breezy 86 minutes, the film never overstays its welcome, focusing tightly on the immediate events leading up to this infamous meeting and the actual event itself, which definitely doesn't disappoint, thanks largely to the two immersive performances carrying it. This is one of those little footnotes in history that upon reflection signifies much more than it did at the time, with the film's strongest aspect being how well it conveys that. Everyone involved is so blissfully unaware of how simultaneously important and ridiculous this all this. It's hard watching without drawing parallels to current events, contemplating just how thin the line separating politics and celebrity has become. For better or worse, you could easily argue that this rarely discussed encounter helped pave the way, its implications still reverberating through the culture. 

It's 1970 and singer Elvis Presley (Michael Shannon) is enjoying somewhat of a career resurgence off the heels of his late '60's comeback special, his fame and public recognizability at an apex. But despite this enormous success, the problems currently facing America heavily weigh on him as he lounges in his palatial Graceland estate, joined at the hip by best friend and "Memphis Mafia" cohort Jerry Schilling (Alex Pettyfer) and bodyguard Sonny West (Johnny Knoxville). Disturbed by the hippie movement and worried the drug culture is rapidly eating away at the minds of the era's youth, Elvis makes it his mission to get sworn in by President Richard Nixon (Kevin Spacey) as an undercover "agent-at-large" in the Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs.

To accomplish his lofty goal, Presley will have to find a way to reach Nixon, and after showing up at the gates of the White House with a handwritten letter, his request eventually makes it into the hands of top administrative officials Egil Krogh (Colin Hanks), Evan Peters and Chief of Staff H.R. Haldeman, After initially brushing it off as a ridiculous joke, they soon recognize the obvious, very real opportunity the meeting presents for Nixon to overhaul his out-of-touch, old fashioned image, particularly with young southern voters. But getting the President on board is full of an entirely new set of challenges, culminating in an encounter for the ages as Elvis meets Nixon.

There's a reason the film is titled Elvis & Nixon and not Nixon & Elvis, as the script devotes a considerably larger amount of time to Presley. He's the one on the journey, he's the mind we're granted access to, and at times, it's a fairly strange place to be. Torn between his loyalty to and love for a profession that's afforded him so much and the discomfort of having strangers viewing him as "Elvis" 24/7, he sees a lot of himself in Nixon, who also came from humble beginnings and shares similar conservative values.

The casting of Michael Shannon, known for playing psychotic creeps and menacing weirdos, is unusual not only due to him lacking any physical resemblance to The King, but because the choice seems like it could be some kind of inside joke on audiences. If this were an all-out mindless comedy that might be true, but anyone truly familiar with Shannon knows just how much more he's capable of bringing to it. And he does.

Shannon really gets under Presley's skin during a period of his life where he really did come across as a disturbed eccentric, albeit a likable, well-meaning one. When Elvis is at first informed that the President has no desire to meet him, Presley's not insulted that Nixon doesn't want to meet the one and only "King of Rock n' Roll," but rather sad and disappointed as an American because he has some ideas to share and thinks and they'd be friends. The deflated look on Shannon's face is more akin to an overgrown child being told they won't be meeting Santa Claus than a spoiled celebrity not getting what he wants. It's a small but crucial example of one of many nuances the movie gets right.

Much of the comedy comes from those closest to the two men trying to control uncontrollable personalities since no one really has any idea what will happen when they meet. Nixon is portrayed as an insulated old man, so stubbornly grasping to traditional values it comes as little surprise he has no idea who Elvis Presley even is. That he may have in reality has no baring on the fact that this movie believably theorizing that he didn't is just perfect. It isn't even until his team have to use his daughter to get through to him that they're able to finally set the wheels in motion.

No stranger to playing the Commander-in-Chief on House of Cards, Kevin Spacey now gets to tackle a real one and his physical embodiment of Nixon's mannerisms, posture and way of speaking are frighteningly on point, even taking into account the great actors who have previously tackled the role. While he doesn't get the screen time Shannon does, he makes the absolute most of it, conveying the type of defiant personality that would eventually lead to his downfall. He definitely lived and worked in a bubble, and there's no getting around the distracting fact that Spacey's portrayal will draw inescapable comparisons to our current President.

Finding plenty of common ground in their mutual disdain of hippies, The Beatles, and communism, it was inevitable Elvis and Nixon would hit it off, their discussion as off-the-wall as you'd expect and then some. The rest of the characters are mere window dressing, as they should be, attempting and often failing to keep their bosses' worst tendencies in check. Like how Presley basically tries to sneak an arsenal of firearms into the Oval Office and the person most perplexed as to why that's not  permitted is Nixon himself.

While all the characters' quirks are on full display in the eventual encounter, this semi-biographical account still somehow avoids feeling like a parody because it has genuine affection for two otherwise good men who each had their personality flaws magnified by the pressures of the spotlight. Under different circumstances, maybe both would have been regarded a bit differently, and perhaps even deserve to be. Elvis & Nixon zeroes in on that to become a fun, engaging trip back in time that's as straightforward and direct as the meeting itself.              

Man of Steel

Director: Zack Snyder
Starring: Henry Cavill, Amy Adams, Michael Shannon, Diane Lane, Kevin Costner, Laurence Fishburne, Antje Traue, Ayelet Zurer, Christopher Meloni, Russell Crowe
Running Time: 143 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★ (out of ★★★★)

Well, better late than never. The fact that I waited nearly a year before finally seeing Zack Snyder's Man of Steel should give you a pretty good idea how high on my priority list it was. Not because I dreaded it in the slightest or was at all protective of the character, which is easily the most challenging of all superheroes to adapt to the screen. But because I'm just so burnt out from superhero movies and franchises to the point that it's almost impossible to distinguish them from each other. You can blame Marvel for that.  So now it's good to know every day I avoided seeing this wasn't time spent in vain because in attempting to "reimagine" Superman and make him relevant to contemporary audiences, Snyder's stripped away the character's essence, succeeding only in making an overblown Marvel movie out of a DC property.

About 10 minutes into the film I completely checked out, realizing we've seen this all before when it was titled Thor, Captain America, Iron Man and The Avengers. But this is actually much worse than all those, and perhaps even worse (or at least barely even with) Bryan Singer's much-maligned Superman Returns, which made the supposedly crucial error of being too slavishly devoted to Richard Donner's original vision. Snyder is slavishly devoted to blowing things up, as his vision features some of the most mind-numbing, soul-crushing CGI I've ever seen in a film and a third act that literally had me tapping out and reaching for the Advil.

Remember when the teaser trailer came out and everyone actually compared it to The Tree of Life, thinking we'd be in for a deeper, more contemplative treatment? With few exceptions, this project is actually more of a disaster than it's been credited for, with the only hope being that this darker, more other worldly incarnation of the character is eventually seen for the embarassing misstep it is. But now that Snyder has temporarily been entrusted with Batman as well, that seems unlikely. If this Superman really is a reflection of our times, that's not a compliment.

This almost two and a half hour movie can essentially be broken down into four sections:

1. Thor Redux
2. "The Deadliest Catch"
3. "Field of Dreams"
4. Avengers Redux

Of these, the first section is by far the weakest and most pointless, not to mention the most troublesome aspect of the mythology to depict on screen. We spend nearly 30 minutes on the depleting Krypton learning how scientist Jor-El (Russell Crowe) and his wife Lara (Ayelet Zurer) come under attack from evil commander General Zod (Michael Shannon) and are forced to launch their newborn son Kal-El to Earth, his cells infused with the genetic code of the Kryptonian race. It's a sequence that could have easily been depicted in two minutes, but Snyder drags it out, calling attention to some spectacularly bad visual effects in the process. The opening resembles Thor's in terms of how much boring mythology is unloaded as a mere excuse to pummel our senses. That said, when Kal and the movie land on Earth, I really appreciated what it was trying to do and for a while it  actually looked like Snyder could pull this off.

Our first glimpses of an adult Superman (Henry Cavill) are interspersed with flashbacks to his childhood in Smallville, Kansas, where he's raised as Clark, the adopted son of Jonathan (Kevin Costner) and Martha (Diane Lane) Kent. These scenes of the young Clark being picked on at school and the advice he receives from his father about the importance of accepting, yet also concealing his identity, comprise the strongest moments in the film. By far. Why everything didn't just begin here is a mystery, but perhaps the filmmakers worried this ground was already covered in the Smallville TV series and fanboys would throw a hissy fit if the god awful Krypton scenes weren't included.

The idea of an adult Clark Kent as a bearded, brooding fisherman is a novel one that earns points for originality. Snyder is nothing if not a visualist and it clearly comes across in these scenes and especially the ones in Smallville, which are beautifully filmed. It's his commitment to actual storytelling that's a weak spot. Hans Zimmer's elegiac score is a plus, making it unlikely anyone will miss John Williams, whose incredible orchestrations just wouldn't fit here.  I refer to the Kansas section as "Field of Dreams" not out of sarcasm, but as a compliment to Costner, who delivers the film's finest performance with limited screen time. It's also perfect casting, not only playing up the actor's famously down home persona, but giving us a fresh but comfortable entry point into what could have been tired territory. Instead, watching this father trying to protect his unusually gifted son provides the only humanity in the story, as it all flies off the rails from there.

As Superman, Cavill is okay. With all the speculation about who would play the "Man of Steel," who would have thought that the choice ultimately wouldn't matter? Most of the time he takes a back seat to the distractingly bad effects and confusing set pieces. The British actor definitely offers a more brooding take on Clark Kent that won't soon be confused with anything done by Christopher Reeve or Brandon Routh. In fact, it's so far removed it won't be confused with anything related to Superman or Clark Kent at all, as even David Goyer's script goes out of its way to avoid mentioning him by name (see title). Some may appreciate these attempts to supposedly go "darker" or more "realistic" with the character but it's hard to even apply those adjectives when so many of the action sequences undermine it. But at least this is the best the costume they've had and if Cavill really was hired because he didn't look ridiculous in it, that's as good a reason as any to pick him for what's always been an impossibly thankless role.

The Lois Lane situation is bizarre in the sense that she's almost TOO involved, as if the filmmakers felt a need to justify the big name (and admittedly lazy) casting of Amy Adams by having the character wear as many hats in the story as possible. She's still the Daily Planet reporter. but there are almost as many points where you'd confuse her for a geologist, a military commander or maybe even a superhero herself in the last act. While Adams going out there and simply delivering lines still surpasses the miscast Kate Bosworth in Returns, it's worth noting that's all she does. Giving Lois a more prominent role and having her played by an older, more experienced actress than the male lead was an excellent idea on paper, but Adams seems completely bored with it, as if she can't get to the bank soon enough to cash her royalty check. And forget about any chemistry between the two. There's none.

Poor Russell Crowe is given what's easily the silliest expository dialogue of the entire cast as Jor-El. That he can deliver it with a straight face even long after his character's initial demise is more deserving of an honorary medal for screen survival than an acting award. He does great under terrible circumstances, working with material that's the polar opposite of Costner's. As Zod, Michael Shannon didn't need to be Terrence Stamp. He just needed to be Michael Shannon. But what's strange is how this movie doesn't even allow him to do that. Ironically, when playing a superhero villain, our creepiest, scariest actor is somehow not very creepy at all. Snyder just has him yell and and yell some more in a terrible CGI suit.

German actress Anteje Traue as his Krytonian sidekick Faora is a different story, as she basically steals every scene she's in, giving a seductively badass performance that recalls the best of Sarah Douglas as Ursa in Superman II. In his few scenes, I liked what Laurence Fishburne did with Daily Planet editor Perry White, but the part is so miniscule it barely warrants a mention. Metropolis itself is similarly shafted as a setting, functioning only as a CGI battleground for the tortuously long final act during which it's often difficult to make out what's happening. Those crying heresy at Superman (SPOILER AHEAD) killing Zod should probably consider the context in which it happened, not to mention the fact that this movie would still be continuing right now if he didn't. So for that, I'm eternally grateful.

Superman just isn't the type of superhero that lends itself to various interpretations or reimaginings. It can't be a campy 60's TV series or an 80's Gothic styled blockbuster or the first part of a dark, reality grounded Christopher Nolan trilogy. The character just doesn't have that flexibility, and despite the marketing trying to convince us we were getting the latter, they were really just trying to deliver a Marvel entry. Nolan may have a producing and story credit, but does anyone believes his involvement extended beyond giving a couple of notes and getting his name on the picture as a show of goodwill to him and a sign of reassurance to audiences? You can tell this was made by a committee looking to cash in on the Marvel craze, while poorly sprinkling traces of Nolan's tone to silence doubters.

That the writer is Batman trilogy scribe David Goyer is a surprise, but most of the problems lay in the execution more than the conception. It's obvious all the big creative decisions resulted from Warner Bros. guiding Snyder to create a DC "universe" or franchise for future tie-in installments. He did exactly as asked, with the irony being that Man of Steel ends at the exact point it really should have started, negating this film, yet putting them in a decent position for the follow-up. Unfortunately, all that was originally special about the Superman character was sacrificed in the process, resurrected in a way we never thought possible: As just another superhero.             
                 

Mud

Director: Jeff Nichols
Starring: Matthew McConaughey, Reese Witherspoon, Tye Sheridan, Jacob Lofland, Sam Shepard, Ray McKinnon, Sarah Paulson, Michael Shannon, Joe Don Baker, Bonnie Sturdivant
Running Time: 130 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Matthew McConaughey's name is mud. No, seriously. That's actually his character's name in a film critics and audiences have been enthusiastically proclaiming one of 2013's best. And while I don't agree with that sentiment, it's easy to make a case. The southern coming-of-age drama undoubtedly has a lot going for it, making it hard to fault anyone for going crazy over an overly ambitious movie with actual ideas and two very strong performances, one of which comes from a child. It definitely works, despite the nagging feeling there's just a little something missing in the execution of what's admittedly top shelf material. The director is Jeff Nichols, who previously made the dramatic thriller Take Shelter, which fits into the same category of being a very good film occasionally flirting with greatness. He gets you to care about the characters without having to tell you to care about them and his stories often feel as richly realized as a novel. In this case, that literary inspiration clearly comes from Huckleberry Finn.

When two Arkansas teenage boys, Ellis (Tye Sheridan) and Neckbone (Jacob Lofland) happen upon a washed-up boat stuck in a tree on a small island on the Mississippi River, they make an even more intriguing discovery: A man living in it. His name's Mud (McConaughey), a grungy free spirit whose presence on the island is a mystery. What they do know is that he's from the area and on the run from something or someone that involves his old girlfriend, Juniper (Reese Witherspoon). But Ellis is having problems of his own as his parents (Ray McKinnon and Sarah Paulson) are divorcing just as he's falling hard for an older high school girl (Bonnie Sturdivant. With the help of Neckbone and an old friend from Mud's past, Tom Blankenship (Sam Shepard), he agrees to bring Mud food and supplies and aid him in locating Juniper. Unfortunately, it turns out that this man's problems are far greater and more dangerous than any teens should be involving themselves in.

There's absorbing sense of discovery in the film's early going because we have literally no idea what this guy's issues are. Since he's living in a washed up boat the implication is that he's homeless. But why? When we find out what exactly he's running the answers and explanations are considerably less surprising than you'd imagine, guiding the narrative into slightly more familiar territory than I'd originally hoped. That's not to imply the story isn't involving, but rather overtaken in a special kind of way by the atmosphere and performances. There's definitive deep south world created here and the plot points take a backseat to what's essentially a coming-of-age story for Ellis as he learns how relationships work and painfully begins his journey from child to young man as a result of the unfolding events.

As Ellis struggles with his own burgeoning relationship with the older May Pearl at school, an accurate (if entirely dysfunctional) image of adult relationships is reflected back at him through his parents and the love affair between Mud and Juniper, much of which exists inside Mud's own mind. It could even be more accurately described as a deluded obsession baring very little resemblance to reality. Which of course is exactly the point. Men trying to understand women they'll never quite be able to understand. And the big joke there is that we probably didn't need a movie to tell us that. But this one does, and pretty well. There's also a fairly absorbing action-adventure crime drama to go along with it when we realize the severity of Mud's troubles, which not only involve a woman, but the law as well.  Still, everything seems to find a way back to his feelings for Juniper. 

McConaughey is yet again cast against type, this time as a dirty, chip-toothed hobo pining over a woman he can never have. To call it the role a stretch is almost an understatement, but he proves to be up for it, effectively conveying layers of mystery to the character early on before the narrative takes a sharp turn, requiring him to be both pathetically desperate and a badass action hero at the same time. He pulls all of that off, in addition to sharing magical chemistry with his two young co-stars who both give really unforced, naturalistic performances. Especially The Tree of Life's Tye Sheridan, who has to carry most of the film's load as the male lead torn between how this mysterious stranger's love story fits into the fabric of his own life.

Mud may be the title character but Ellis is clearly the protagonist in every possible way, his actions and feelings guiding everything we see on screen. Jacob Lofland's role as Neckbone is the smaller, more cynical one but he shares some good scenes with Michael Shannon (as his uncle), who steals scenes a character who may actually qualify as the sanest and most direct in the film. Of course, he's still extremely eccentric and certifiably unhinged, but at least he gives somewhat sage advice and knows what the deal is. That he's playing a wise, calming presence (at least by his standards) should give you an idea just how messed-up these characters truly are.

If that wasn't enough, Reese Witherspoon comes completely out of left field with a supporting turn as emotionally and physically beat down southern belle Juniper that recalls her challenging 90's work in films like Freeway and Fear. It's a smallish and underwritten, but pivotal role that's built up quite a bit before she actually makes an appearance that completely delivers on the myth. At first, it's jarring to even see her playing such an edgy role and she initially seems miscast before eventually nailing it, reminding us that she was an actress before becoming a movie star and was always better at the former. It would take about five or six more of these types of risky choices to put her back on the track that McConaughey's on now.

Watching this, it's hard not to be reminded of the sun-drenched south poetically depicted in the films of David Gordon Green or even Terrence Malick. Nichols is in good company, despite this being a bit more conventional and less visually impressive. But it's ultimately about how men can't seem to understand women at all, and because of that, the film settles into a predictable rhythm that flirts with being formulaic at times. It's easy to tell where it's going, and to an extent, how it will get there. The ride itself is worthwhile largely because of McConaughey, who turns in what's probably his strongest work yet in this recent creative renaissance he's been enjoying. It's amazing to think that just a few years ago was starring in clunkers like Fool's Gold and Ghosts of Girlfriends Past. He's definitely come a long way, as this performance serves to only further erase those movies from our collective consciousness. As long as he stays the course, a very real possibility exists that he could be a future Oscar winner and it not be a joke.

The Runaways

Director: Floria Sigismondi
Starring: Kristen Stewart, Dakota Fanning, Michael Shannon, Stella Maeve, Scout Taylor-Compton, Alia Shawkat
Running Time: 109 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

You can accuse The Runaways of many things but subtlety shouldn't be among them. Not when its opening image is of menstrual blood dripping to the ground. It doesn't pull punches in its depiction of the first major all-girl rock band or shy away from casting controversially to provoke a reaction. But it does condense, occasionally going through the obligatory beats of a standard by-the-numbers rock bio when the project could have used more ambition. But in its favor, the music is great, many sequences are well directed and there's a surprisingly sensational performance marking the maturation of a major actress who proves herself more talented than anyone could have suspected.

While the film somewhat solidifies typical misgivings about biopics and highlights the problems faced when bringing a really compelling true life story to the screen. Watching, you wouldn't have a clue that The Runaways had members other than Cherie Curie and Joan Jett or were incredibly talented musicians. Listening to the music, you would. Despite focusing on my preferred genre of music and being set in probably my favorite time period, I still can't shake the nagging feeling that we're being given the cliff notes version of a larger story and that the band deserved more. But that's not to say it still doesn't have its thrills.

Picking up in 1975, eccentric record producer Kim Fowley (Michael Shannon) seemingly by chance assembles the band on the fly, seeing dollar signs and jailbait in pairing aspiring musician Joan Jett (Kristen Stewart) with the 15-year-old Cherie Currie, who has no singing experience outside of lip-syncing David Bowie at her school talent show (in one of the film's best scenes). They're joined by drummer Sandy West (Stella Maeve), lead guitarist Lita Ford (Scout Taylor Compton) and Robin (Arrested Development's Alia Shawkat), a fictionalized version of their real-life bassist, Jackie Fox. The film wisely centers around Currie and Jett, with a primary emphasis on Currie's Behind The Music-like descent into the drug addiction that eventually broke up the band and ended her career. She's gone on to work a chain saw artist and write Neon Angel: Memoir of a Runaway, the autobiography on which this film is based, while Jett and Ford survived the implosion, using it as a stepping stone to hugely successful music careers of their own.

It was unquestionably the right call focusing on the two big names, but had I not listed the other band members it would be impossible to tell from the film that they existed at all, especially Shawkat's "Robin" who I don't remember even appearing, much less having a single line of dialogue. Aside from one angry outburst (in a scene that recalls the t-shirt argument in Almost Famous, but with a magazine), Ford is invisible as well. That's less excusable considering Lita Ford is hardly a minor figure in music and you have the benefit of an actress as good as Taylor-Compton playing her. Only Maeve's Sandy gets what could be considered minimal screen time at best, but still no defining role or personality. In a way, the big meltdown scene plays ironically since this film is just as guilty of ignoring the rest of the band as the media and the public was. If it disappoints as biopic or a look into the disintegration of a band, that's made up for with its success as a coming-of-age story.

I kept waiting for the scope of the film to catch up with the power and intensity of Fanning's performance but that just wasn't meant to be, and in retrospect, would almost be impossible. Not only considering physical resemblances, on paper you couldn't make two better casting choices for Currie and Jett than Dakota Fanning and Kristen Stewart, but it's Fanning who delivers, carrying the entire film. Supposedly years before she was even old enough for the role, Fanning was always Currie's top choice to play her and now really clear why. Anyone who watched her as a child star is in for a shock as she turns a rock cliche into a devastating performance of brutal honesty and pathetic desperation. Besides transforming from a timid, waif unable to sing a note in key into an enigmatic powerhouse commanding the stage in a corset, she makes Cherie's fall off the deep believable by not completely losing touch with the innocent little girl we're familiar with her playing. Even by the end of the film you still see her, but through a sad, empty shell.

Less successful is Stewart as Jett, as I never really got past the fact that this just felt like Stewart being Stewart, but with a mullet, attempting an impersonation rather than embodying the persona. Onstage she conveys Jett's swagger as a performer but in the scenes off of it she often falls back on certain annoying "Stewartisms" like mumbling and hanging her head. At points she even looks physically uncomfortable in the part, particularly a later scene where she comes off as an 80's Jett impersonator at a costume party. It's a disappointment since I was looking forward to her potentially re-proving herself as the talented dramatic actress we saw in Into The Wild and Adventureland after selling her soul for Twilight paychecks. This effort won't do it, but in her defense she had the pressure of tackling one of the most famous rock figures of all-time in Jett whereas Fanning could more easily benefit from creating the perception she's building a character from the ground up with the lesser known Currie. Compounding Stewart's problem is that she's starring in a movie about celebrity while currently being overexposed as one herself. It's possible her performance just needs time to be looked on more favorably, but Fanning is so impressively poised in the more pivotal role she's able to easily cover for her. As the only main male figure in the cast, Michael Shannon adds maniacal Kim Fowley to his repertoire of scary creeps and after seeing photos of the real person it's amazing just how much he physically resembles him. Sure, he's a cartoon, but weren't all record producers larger-than-life cartoons back then? I wouldn't argue with anyone more interested in seeing a spin-off biopic focused on his character.

First time writer/director Floria Sigismondi has a history in music videos which should have made her the ideal candidate to direct this, and in a way, she is. The band as a unit is ignored but their music isn't. Sigmundi's sense for time and place stands out with the set design and costumes, as well as distorted visuals and a color palette that gets progressively grimier and darker as the story progresses to its conclusion. The concert scenes are the among strongest and both Stewart and Fanning do a better than passable job recreating the vocals, which is no easy task. These sequences and the soundtrack would make those unfamiliar with The Runaways' music check them out, which should always be the primary goal in a movie that's supposed to be all about the music. That the film can even be mentioned favorably in relation to something like Almost Famous (which take place during the same period and covers similar musical territory) is a victory in itself. The one complaint always leveled against that picture was that it took an R-rated subject matter and made it PG-13. That approach wouldn't fly here. This is what these girls did, this was how old they were and there's no getting around the dirty details. Sigmundi doesn't gloss over them, giving us the uncomfortable feeling we're witnessing something we shouldn't without crossing the line into needless exploitation.

This is a really close call for me as the film seems better now than when I was actually watching it, which could just speak for my enthusiasm for the subject and desire to see more than just a slice of what should have been an epic rock bio. Though it's Fanning's performance pushing the material over the top, the riskiest decision made is presenting the band just as lucky as they were good. There was a little of both for sure, but it's mostly the former that shines through here, making The Runaways work better as a cautionary coming-of-age tale than a biographical account. And more proof that sometimes it pays just being at the right place at the right time.

Revolutionary Road

Director: Sam Mendes
Starring: Leonardo DiCaprio, Kate Winslet, Michael Shannon, Kathy Bates, David Harbour, Kathryn Hahn, Dylan Baker
Running Time: 118 min.
Rating: R

★★★ 1/2 (out of ★★★★)

There's nothing worse than waking up and discovering you've turned into your parents. If you have, you consider yourself a failure while the rest of society thinks you're a success. If you haven't, you consider yourself a success while the rest of society labels you a failure. Chalk it up as a no-win. That's the dilemma facing Frank Wheeler (Leonardo DiCaprio) in Sam Mendes' trying but almost brilliant Revolutionary Road. Adapted from Richard Yates' acclaimed 1961 novel it does the unthinkable in actually bringing a different take to not only my absolute favorite genre of film, but one that's admittedly been explored to death. Just not from an angle like this.

For once we're presented with characters who are fully aware of the suburban hell they've trapped themselves in and are clawing and fighting to escape. But the harder they fight, the deeper they sink. Mendes skips the formalities with only a single scene depicting the first encounter between Frank and his future wife, April (Kate Winslet). They meet at a cocktail party and hit it off. He made her laugh. There isn't much laughing after that as minutes later we flash forward a few years and they're at each others throats. That trend continues throughout the duration of the picture, nearly suffocating us with their emotional intensity and marital discord.

Frank works in marketing at Knox Business Machines, following in the footsteps of his late father who was employed there for twenty years. He despises it. In an unforgettable shot we see him blend in amidst a sea of flannel suits and bowler hats in New York's bustling Grand Central Station. Everyone looks the same. Scratch that. They are the same. He celebrates his thirtieth birthday by sleeping with a young secretary whose primary appeal to him is that she's the only woman around naively impressed by anything he does. Frank and April, along with their two kids, have just moved into their new home on Revolutionary Road, located in a very wealthy Connecticut suburb because that's "just what you do."

While on the surface their lives resemble a Norman Rockwell painting, it's all a put-on. April comes up with a crazy idea for Frank to just quit his job so they can move to Paris where she'll support him with a high-paying government secretarial position while he gathers time to decide what he wants to do with the rest of his life. Their plan is pretty revolutionary for a time when society's expectations of gender roles in a marriage are very clearly defined. Equally important is keeping up with the Jones,' or rather the Campbells (David Harbour and Kathryn Hahn), who are sent into a tailspin by the Wheeler's news, causing them to examine issues they'd rather leave alone. The Paris move is set into motion until things are heavily complicated by a surprise pregnancy and a golden opportunity presented to Frank at work. That, and a visit from an unwelcome houseguest, causes their already shaky marriage to devastatingly fracture.

The 1950's have taken a beating in cinema as the decade of boredom, conformity and repression, leading us to ask: "Was it really THAT bad?" But the truth is that this film could have taken place during any decade and still have rang just as true. When the middling box office returns came in for this it wasn't exactly a surprise audiences weren't in the mood to hear or see a wealthy suburban couple whine and complain about their lives as we struggle through an economic recession. There's the temptation to avoid any movie that could possibly remind us of life's very problems, especially if it features characters this realistic...or even worse, "UNLIKABLE." As someone who feels Hollywood's been spoon feeding us false optimism in the past year it was a relief to see a film at least try to tackle serious life issues head-on and ask important, socially relevant questions.

You very often hear people these days utter the phrase "I'm lucky just to have a job." So true, but have you noticed it mostly seems to be uttered by people who hate their jobs? As if they feel guilty and are saying it to motivate themselves to keep going. That's Frank Wheeler. Similarly, when a woman is pregnant our first inclination is always to congratulate them but have you ever thought why? There's a tremendous amount of financial and emotional stress that comes with raising a child and some people just aren't built for it because they're too selfish or irresponsible. Maybe they're only having children because their biological clocks are ticking or all their friends are. April Wheeler falls into both categories. But what makes this couple differ from other spoiled characters who have populated cinema's suburban hell through the decades is that they know (or think they know) what's happening and are desperate to escape, completely unaware that changing everything around them won't necessarily do that.

Paris isn't a pipe dream, but April's IDEA of what moving there will do for them just might be. They come up with all the right questions but answer them all wrong by trying to alter every external detail in their lives without first working on themselves or their relationship, although any marriage that would require this much work might not be worth salvaging to begin with. This leads to the question of how much work should a marriage should take before throwing in the towel.  Unfortunately, doing that just wasn't a viable option for couples during this era. Divorce would have been even more frowned upon than just picking up and moving to Paris. When the Wheelers' gregarious Realtor friend Helen Givings (played to perfection by the great Kathy Bates) decides it would be a good experience for her mentally unstable son John (Michael Shannon), to meet the young couple I cringed, but hearing about Shannon's Oscar nominated supporting performance couldn't have really prepared me.

Shannon's John acts as kind of a bridge between the two halves of the film, popping in to call Frank and April out on their hypocrisy. A former mathematician on leave from the psychiatric hospital, he's ironically the only character who truly understands the problem and isn't afraid to say so...bluntly. When he feels betrayed by the Wheelers, he pushes them to their breaking point, leading to an electrifying confrontation that rivals the deli scene in The Wrestler as the scariest and most uncomfortable few minutes committed to film in 2008. Shannon occupies only minutes of screen time, but he's like a tornado ripping through the picture, leaving a wreckage of distress and shock that stays with the couple (and viewers) long after he departs. There's definitely no shame losing the Best Supporting Actor Oscar to Heath Ledger but the irony there is that Shannon basically comes in and plays his own twisted version of the Joker for two huge scenes. The similarities are eerie.

There's little point arguing whether Kate Winslet's Oscar winning performance in The Reader was more or less deserving of the statue than her work here. They're two completely different parts that call for entirely different performances, the former obviously being the flashier, more Academy-skewing role. It isn't difficult to see why they nominated her for that instead. Both are deserving, but I prefer her more understated, no less challenging turn here, which wouldn't have been possible without DiCaprio, who equals her in every way.

Winslet may be given more notes to hit but DiCaprio is even more impressive, inhabiting a man at war with himself, resentful of society's expectations of him, but too afraid to do anything about it. So he takes it out on his wife. For years DiCaprio has very deliberately made more mature choices as an actor but because of his youthful appearance it's been an uphill climb. None of that is due to of a lack of talent since he's given great performances each time out (with his work in The Departed and The Aviator topping the list), but rather a certain preconceived bias from audiences that he's "too young" for these types of roles. No one can say that about this, his most mature, fully realized performance. He becomes Frank Wheeler in 1950's suburban Connecticut. Just watch his face in the the scene when he returns home to find April and his kids surprising him for his birthday.

Fans of Titanic who waited over a decade to see the re-teaming of Kate and Leo will probably want to hang themselves by the time the final credits roll. This is not an epic romance, or even a romance at all. Despite the fact it was misleadingly marketed as Titanic 2, there isn't a single romantic element in it. It's closer to a horror movie. Think Pleasantville meets Rosemary's Baby with a side helping of Mad Men thrown in for good measure. I'm convinced the hate-filled scenes the two actors share wouldn't have been possible if they weren't really close friends (which they supposedly are) and a very high comfort level must have been there for them to go at each other like they do.

Director Sam Mendes explored this kind of material before with 1999's Best picture winner, American Beauty, but he isn't just repeating himself. This is a far different film, set in a different era and Justin Haythe's screenplay doesn't feel quite as calculated. That's not a knock on Beauty but rather an indictment that the two share anything other than the exploration of a crumbling marriage in the suburbs. Strangely enough, it also doesn't remind me of the most recent flag bearer for this type of movie, Todd Field's Little Children, even though they share an actress in Winslet and Field was originally attached to this project. That film seemed to have a more satirical slant and bite that this lacks, making the two different enough that this film doesn't suffer that greatly in comparison.

Technically, it's a flawless motion picture. There isn't a single wasted shot or moment. The best cinematographer working today, Roger Deakins, tops himself again by bringing the '50's to vivid life with dreamlike precision while the production and costume design is so authentic its frightening. Thomas Newman's subtle piano score comfortably fits the film like a glove. Even the film's most biggest detractors would have to concede it's a top notch production and better put together than any other recent adult drama. I'm curious if it'll hold up moving forward or go the way of just about every other supposedly great film of 2008 and lose its power on repeated viewings. It does seem like the kind of picture you respect and admire in terms of craftsmanship, but can't love because it keeps you at arm's length. We'll just have to see how time treats it and whether, like the similarly themed The Ice Storm, it experiences a critical resurgence down the line.

I understand why this movie failed commercially but am still in complete disbelief that it wasn't better received by critics or the Academy. It would seem tailor-made for them except for the fact that they made up their minds this past year that they'd rather not be challenged or pushed by mainstream entertainment. This isn't easy to watch and full appreciation requires almost full surrender into a state of total despair. Not an easy thing to do. You have to be a hardcore cynic or have a generally pessimistic view of human nature to enjoy it, and even then, I'm not sure the word "enjoy" applies. If you didn't like it, you should probably be relieved. That my favorite genre of film usually features characters who emotionally hurt one another scares me to no end, but it doesn't depress me. What really depressing is when movies insult our intelligence by chickening out.

When the film ended though I wasn't left with the feeling of hopelessness you'd expect after sitting through what's essentially less a movie than an ordeal. That's because of one well-placed, superbly performed scene before the finale hinting that maybe Frank and April finally "got it." Maybe the key for them was finding a healthy balance somewhere between the hope and despair and, at least for a brief, passing moment, they did. It may make everyone feel better about themselves to classify these these people as unlikable but the reality is more complicated. Take away the suburban setting. Place it in another decade. It doesn't really matter. The problems are universal, the story is timeless. Revolutionary Road offers up a new reason why we shouldn't turn into our parents: They may have been even more screwed up than us.