Black Bag

Director: Steven Soderbergh
Starring: Michael Fassbender, Cate Blanchett, Marisa Abela, Tom Burke, Naomie Harris, Regé-Jean Page, Kae Alexander, Ambika Mod, Gustaf Skarsgård, Pierce Brosnan
Running Time: 94 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)     

In Steven Soderbergh's sleek, stylish espionage thriller Black Bag, a group of suspects find themselves roped into a cerebral chess game by a calculating couple. It's like Clue for intellectuals, respecting the audience's intelligence while succeeding off the strength of its performances and a tightly wound script. Though occasionally difficult to follow on a single viewing, the puzzle pieces gradually fall into place as two of our most captivating actors keep us glued to the screen throughout. 

Only when the film settles in your mind do you realize it's more about trust between partners and the difficulties of making a relationship work. And even in such an inherently duplicitous job, the two leads have this figured out in a way few couples do. They may not trust their spouse indiscriminately, but they've reached an understanding to have each other's backs at any cost, giving them an edge in a profession where that seems unattainable. 

When British intelligence agent George Woodhouse (Michael Fassbender) is given a week by his superior Meacham (Gustaf Skarsgård) to investigate the mysterious leak of a top-secret software program known as "Severus," he's informed that one of the five suspects is his wife and fellow SIS operative, Kathryn (Cate Blanchett). But when Meacham's poisoned, George invites the four other suspects to dinner, lowering their inhibitions and playing a game meant to uncover the traitor's identity. 

These suspects include the organization's satellite imagery specialist Clarissa (Marisa Abela), her boyfriend and managing agent Freddie (Tom Burke), another managing agent James (Regé-Jean Page) and his girlfriend Zoe (Naomie Harris), the agency's psychiatrist. But while the couples' dirty laundry is aired, George discovers additional clues that could point to Kathryn as the possible mole. Treading carefully, he digs deeper, while still suspecting the others are hiding something. Inching closer to the truth, he'll have to decide how much to tell Kathryn and weigh whether it's worth jeopardizing his career to protect her.  

The best scenes involve George cooly and calmly gaining the upper hand, whether it's at the dinner table or during an impromptu polygraph test intended to unearth the liar among them. The latter sequence is masterfully edited and scored with a pitter patter rhythm that builds tension as his interrogation escalates from simplistically irrelevant to incriminating. Each of the suspects are smart but have secrets they're hiding from each other and George, which may or may not be directly tied to the Severus program. Either way, these personal and professional relationships become a tangled web George must unravel to find the leak. 

Part James Bond, part George Smiley, a fastidious, subtly menacing Fassbender is decked out in horn-rimmed glasses and a turtleneck to play this seemingly low key man who makes his few words count. Knowing more than he's letting on, he puts viewers in the same boat as these highly capable suspects, any of whom could be behind this. But as shifty as the other couples are, George and Kathryn operate on another level, even when they're on different pages as his suspicions of her grow. In tackling this sophisticated ice queen to perfection, Blanchett expertly keeps us guessing, with both actors leaving little doubt their characters would kill to protect their partner. There's also a great undercurrent showing how George and Kathryn constantly watch each other since they're incapable of shutting that mechanism off. 

The supporting cast is uniformly excellent, especially Abela, who follows her breakout role as Amy Winehouse in Back to Black with another impressive turn as the tough but vulnerable junior agent Clarissa. Going toe-toe with Fassbender, she's the film's scene stealer, bringing different shades to a character who has everything to prove and lose. Regé-Jean Page and Tom Burke are effectively shady, as are Bond vets Naomie Harris and Pierce Brosnan (as the gruff SIS boss), with Harris really shining in her witty exchanges opposite Page. Accompanied by a thorough, extremely detailed explanation, the ending isn't just smart, but makes sense, even if you'll need to run it back in your head a few times.   

Staying a step ahead and knowing more than we do, Black Bag's mostly actionless plot relies on dialogue, sneaky looks, great cinematography and locations to get its points across. And since David Koepp's script can be challenging to decode, viewers are asked to read between the lines, which would usually invite a rewatch, if not for its whole plot serving as a thematic smokescreen for larger, more intriguing themes about fidelity. Well made and thought provoking, it's consistent with the rest of Soderbergh's prolific output, representing the kind of perceptive adult spy drama we could stand to see more of.                                                    

The Ghost Writer

Director: Roman Polanski
Starring: Ewan McGregor, Pierce Brosnan, Olivia Williams, Kim Cattrall, Tom Wilkinson, Timothy Hutton, Jim Belushi, Eli Wallach, Robert Pugh
Running Time: 128 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★ 1/2 (out of ★★★★)

The Ghost Writer is Roman Polanski's Shutter Island, minus the style and even much of the substance. That it was released in theaters at exactly the same time as Scorsese's film is just too ironic to ignore when you consider this really could pass as the poor man's version of it. Both are mystery/suspense thrillers that feature its protagonist trapped on island with untrustworthy and possibly dangerous people and attempt to shock with a surprise "twist ending." They're also both likely to enjoy an inflated reputation because of their directors, although this apparently more so. It just a sprinkling of thrills, mystery and suspense as it meanders for over two hours to a forgone conclusion that isn't worth the time invested from viewers. Maybe that wouldn't be so frustrating if portions of it weren't intelligently written and it contained a few strong performances, as well as some strange casting decisions.

The most surprising thing about the picture isn't the ending (one of the dumbest final scenes all year) but the fact that Polanski wrote and directed it, although he does do as good a job as humanly possible hiding just how ordinary it all is. When you have a film that's all build-up you have to be prepared to really deliver beyond the conventional. The constricting script prevents that, instead serving up another one of those reasonably entertaining government conspiracy cover-ups. There are aspects to admire, but unfortunately none have anything to do with the actual plot.

Ewan McGregor is the unnamed title character hired to ghost write the memoirs of Ex-British Prime Minister Adam Lang (Pierce Brosnan), after the previous man hired for the job mysteriously washed up dead on the beach near Lang's Massachusetts estate. It was ruled a suicide but Ghost (as our protagonist refers to himself) has his suspicions and for good reason since Lang is embroiled in a bitter public feud with former political ally Richard Rycart (Robert Pugh), who's accusing him of war crimes. While that alone would make great material for an autobiography, Lange's personal life is also falling apart as he's been cheating on his cold but loyal wife, Ruth (Olivia Williams) with his assistant, Amelia (Kim Cattrall in an AWFUL performance). With the deadline quickly approaching, Ghost's goal moves from finishing the book to just simply surviving as he inches closer to the truth.

Leisurely paced but never boring, the film takes its time getting to where it needs to go by slowly dropping clues along the way as we discover along with Ghost key pieces of information that are clearly meant to lead to something big and revelatory about Lang. It's fun imagining just how much could have been done with the premise of a ghost writer getting in over his head and there are moments in the second hour when it seems the screenplay will take full advantage of that, but ultimately it just takes the easy way out. Lang is never really an interesting character and is given problems (both personal and political) that literally seem cribbed from the evening news and put to film. There's no effort to make his back story interesting in the slightest to the point where he's a walking political cliche, right down to his extra-marital affair. Brosnan, with his smooth and easygoing charm, is perfect as Lang (many probably imagine him as an ex-British Prime Minister anyway) so this isn't a big stretch for him, but he still brings as much as possible to a limited role. McGregor is a reliable, though not extraordinary actor, so he's in his comfort zone also as an ordinary guy thrust into dangerous circumstances.

The true standout is Olivia Williams who brings a lot to the table as Lang's wronged wife, Ruth than anyone could have reasonably expected from what's usually a thankless part. She suggests an entire history with her performance that's far more compelling than anything we're given, subtly conveying emotional pain and vulnerability that was above and beyond the call of duty for a story this pedestrian. It's a nomination-worthy turn, if only the movie containing it didn't seem so inconsequential. Making almost as much impact in a single scene is the always spot-on Tom Wilkinson whose, brief but memorable appearance as a mysterious college friend of Lang's teases a deeper, more interesting film that never arrives. A bald James Belushi, Timothy Hutton, the former "Mr. Freeze" Eli Wallach round up the curiously mainstream cast, dragged down only by Kim Cattrall, who besides struggling with a British accent, stops every scene she's in dead in its tracks with her capital A "Acting". Why cast a well-known American actress who has to attempt an accent when the role is a glorified cameo and contributes nothing to the story anyway?

With the exception of Alexandre Desplat's appropriately moody and suspenseful score, from a technical standpoint the movie is nothing special, with a generic look and feel that recalls the kind of cable thriller you might land on during a lazy Sunday afternoon. Say what you want about Shutter Island but it it had visual style and atmosphere to spare and Scorsese knew exactly what what he wanted that film to be. Polanski can't seem to decide whether he's making a cheesy B-level potboiler or an intelligent political commentary. As a result, it's neither and I don't even know what to make of him employing a plot point that involves Lang being unable to leave the country because of his crimes. The less said the better I suppose. That and a conclusion that plays as an all-out farce makes me wonder if he was even taking this seriously at all. It's not that the ending was at all predictable or saw it coming, just that I didn't care by the time we got there. The Ghost Writer is a well-meaning but generic thriller, regardless of who directed it, but admittedly a bit more disappointing when you consider who did. It works best for those who set their expectations low and have made it a point to avoid every other film of its type that's out there.

Mama Mia!

Director: Phyllida Lloyd
Starring: Meryl Streep, Amanda Seyfried, Pierce Brosnan, Colin Firth, Stellan Skarsgard, Dominic Cooper, Julie Walters, Christine Baranski
Running Time: 108 min.
Rating: PG-13

*** (out of ****)

What’s wrong with me? How could I like this? Incompetently directed, broadly acted and almost unbearably cheesy it would almost be too easy for me to slam Mama Mia! I don't even like musicals. The movie is an atrocity and a cinematic train wreck of grand proportions yet I still caught myself jumping up and down in my seat with giddy excitement. There are more laughs in this than all the year’s comedies in the past year combined. The only question: Does it still count if many of them are unintentional? When it concluded I joked with people that it’s nearly impossible to assign this a star rating. It almost doesn’t qualify as a movie, but rather a camera coincidentally capturing insanity in action. It’s so crazy and incoherent that it could be categorized as the Mulholland Drive of musicals.

Criticizing the film for being campy and over the top will get you no where since that’s the sole reason for its existence. No one could possibly argue that its in any way unfaithful to ABBA’s music and claiming their song catalogue deserves better than the treatment it gets here would be an especially ridiculous statement. Shamefully though, long after the final credits rolled I found I just couldn’t get those catchy songs out of my head. And against my will, amidst all the nonsense that unfolded onscreen, I did actually like many of the characters and cared what happened to them, a miracle considering various plots and sub-plots appear and disappear seemingly at will. Plus, I love it when big name actors star in something really silly and you can tell that they know it. Just seeing Meryl Streep’s floating head in an insanely staged psychedelic dream sequence is well worth the admission or rental price, but I want to find director Phyllida Lloyd and give her a giant hug for not only casting Pierce Brosnan, but making him do his own singing. And they say filmmakers never have the audience in mind.
What there is of a plot involves Sophie’s (Amanda Seyfried) upcoming marriage to Sky (Dominic Cooper) on the remote Greek island she’s been raised on her entire life by her single mother Donna (Streep). After reading her mother’s Diary she discovers that there are three possible men who could be her father: businessman Sam (Brosnan), banker Harry (Colin Firth) and adventurer Bill (Stellan Skarsgard). The goofy two-second flashbacks showing us what they looked like back in the day, while completely predictable, are nonetheless hilarious.

To her mom's surprise, Sophie invites all three men to her wedding in a covert attempt find her real father in time for him to give her away at the wedding. Their presence triggers a trip down memory lane for Donna, who reminisces in song about her romantic foibles and leans on her two best friends and former band mates, Rosie (Julie Walters) and Tanya (Christine Baranski) for emotional support. In details hysterical in their randomness, Rosie is a bestselling cookbook author while Tanya is a presented as some kind of “cougar” on the prowl for younger men, the latter of which results in one of the film’s funnier musical numbers (“Does Your Mother Know”). Both actresses ham it up appropriately in their roles, especially Walters. Of course, Donna is awful slow in figuring out her daughter’s agenda and a quickie paternity test would have probably been far easier, it wouldn’t have nearly been as much fun as the horrendously choreographed song and dance numbers we’re treated to, as well as the bizarre sub-plots.

A minute didn’t pass during this film where I wasn’t laughing, but the biggest laughs came when Brosnan sang, or at least attempted to. Fresh off the early rounds of American Idol and looking as physically uncomfortable as possible, the sounds he makes less resemble singing than the torture of a live animal. But you know what? He doesn’t care and is clearly enjoying himself. You’ve got to respect that. And it is kind of fresh and different having an actor who sings about as bad as we (or at least I) would in a musical. I have to admit though the second he opened his mouth I hit the floor. It takes some getting used to but the good news is you’ll have some time because the amount of singing Brosnan has to do at the end of the film is insane. This would be a heavy load for someone who COULD SING and Lloyd (who must be a sadist) burdens him with long, difficult solo (“When All Is Said and Done”) Christina Aguilera probably would have struggled through. Skarsgard and especially Firth fare much better in the singing department, though neither is particularly impressive. It hardly matters since both have passable voices and believably convey the necessary emotions.

There are two performances of real, genuine value here and thankfully they come from the actresses playing the two most important characters. Streep (a self-professed fan of the musical) clearly knows what she’s gotten herself into and responds the only way an actress of her talent level should in a thankless situation like this: By just letting loose and overplaying everything. She also has a much better singing voice than you’d expect. But the real star of this is Seyfried, who has a VERY bright future ahead of her if this role is any indication. They couldn’t have found a better fit for Sophie as she lights up every scene she’s in with her smile and infectious, playful energy. You’d understand why this guy would want to marry her and each of her mom’s former lovers would want to stake their claim as her father. As far as singing, she’s easily the best of the lot. It’s a star making performance at the highest level.

The entire cast is game but I’m not sure first-timer Lloyd (who helmed the stage play) was ready for this. Her philosophy just seems to be “point and shoot” as she basically just stages a play on film with rapid, distracting cuts and garish cinematography, never really exploiting any visual possibilities (though that it does make Greece look like a desirable vacation spot). Some stage directors make the transition to film with ease but it doesn’t seem as if she bothered to make one at all. This movie has no ambition other than to entertain, which it happens to do very well.

It’s a good thing this film was as successful as it was because if it wasn’t we’d never see Lloyd directing a full-length feature film again. Actually, we may still not. I’m afraid to know what it says about the musical as a genre that it can be this cluelessly directed and turn out well. If a better, more experienced filmmaker were behind the lens the results would probably be far less satisfying. What Lloyd lacks technically she makes up for in actually understanding what the tone should be. In that sense having the same director as the stage version helped considerably.

While most songs in musicals exist to advance the plot here the plot is treated as an afterthought and an excuse to pack in ABBA’s greatest hits But thankfully the movie makes no apologies for that, nor does it hide its agenda. And of course we get the classics that even non-fans will recognize immediately such as the title track, “Dancing Queen” and “Take a Chance on Me.” In the third act the plot is given up on almost entirely as if everyone in the cast and crew threw their hands up in the air and said, “Screw it! Let’s just do whatever the hell we want.” And it was the right call. I thought Brosnan’s “singing” was hilarious, but that was before I saw him don ABBA’s trademark sequined jumpsuit during the closing credits. Would Tom Cruise do THAT? Brosnan has balls of steel for taking this role and whatever he was paid isn’t nearly enough for the humiliation he gleefully endures. What a pro.

My faith is now restored that movie executives still have brains when in a brilliant and ridiculously brave counter programming strategy they decided to open this against The Dark Knight, the reasoning being that it was the only movie that could compete against it because the target audience was so drastically different. The result was the highest grossing musical of all-time here and the highest grossing MOTION PICTURE OF ALL-TIME in the U.K. (beating Titanic!) Go in with that in mind and you’re destined for disappointment. Approach this knowing it's supposed to be stupid and you're fine. Yet strangely, I can see how it’s done so well financially because it’s just pure 100% fun and is one of the few movies released this year that knows what it wants to do and actually does it.

Making a really good bad film is a lost art that takes a lot of talent, or rather a special kind of lack of it. Someone could make a case for this being on either their best or worst list of the year and be easily able to present a strong argument for both. I’m almost tempted to give this a higher rating but just can’t, at least not publicly. It’s too embarrassing. Mama Mia! definitely ranks among the guiltiest of guilty pleasures.