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.                                                    

Tár

Director: Todd Field
Starring: Cate Blanchett, Noémie Merlant, Nina Hoss, Sophie Kauer, Julian Glover, Allan Corduner, Mark Strong, Sylvia Flote, Adam Gopnik, Mila Bogojevic, Zethphan Smith-Gneist
Running Time: 158 min.
Rating: R

**The Following Review Contains Major Plot Spoilers For Tár **

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

You could call renowned conductor Lydia Tár the Cate Blanchett of her field, or maybe even categorize Blanchett as the Tár of hers. Of course it'll have to be a strictly professional comparison, based entirely on their statuses as the greatest working in their respective fields. And isn't that all we ever have to go on? In his first film since writing and directing Little Children 16 years ago, Todd Field explores that very question, asking whether art can truly be separated from the artist, digging into this embattled title character with all the depth and precision we remember expecting from a filmmaker of his caliber. 

While impossible to know everything that drew Blanchett to the role, it's likely she and Field recognized the creative possibilities in showing that people, even the worst ones, are rarely just one thing. And highly successful, driven geniuses at the top of their craft are often much more complicated than that. Both literally and figuratively, Blanchett makes sure all those notes are hit, giving us a multi-layered examination of a woman who's capable of being likable and engaging, until you dare stick around a little longer. 

Labeling Lydia a monster would sell this nuanced portrayal short, but she's still a self absorbed egomaniac who basks in all the adulation and attention being the best brings. Among her many flaws is a fatal one that leads to complete career implosion, or cancellation, depending upon your perspective. There's good reason to believe the accusations have at least some legal merit, even if we don't really have enough to go on. But Field's not interested in guilt, innocence or "picking a side." It's a character study through and through, enabling viewers to draw their own conclusions based on the available information. And the closer you look, there's a lot to find.

World famous Lydia Tár (Blanchett) is the first female chief conductor of the Berlin Philharmonic, talking up a number of upcoming projects in an interview with The New Yorker's Adam Gopnik, including her live recording of Mahler's 5th Symphony, a new book (Tár on Tár) and the fellowship program she founded. Supported by her highly disciplined personal assistant Francesca (Noémie Merlant), violinist wife Sharon (Nina Hoss) and their young adopted daughter Petra (Mila Bogojevic), she also guest teaches at Julliard, encouraging students to look beyond issues of identity politics and focus on the music. 

When Lydia confides in fellowship manager Eliot Kaplan (Mark Strong) about her plans to replace assistant conductor Sebastian (Allan Corduner), a young Russian cellist Olga (actual cellist Sophie Kauer) arrives on the scene for a blind audition. Immediately attracted to her, Lydia pulls out all the stops to secure the Olga a seat, raising suspicions. This is while emails surface from a former student, Krista Taylor (Sylvia Flote), suggesting she was groomed into a sexual relationship by Lydia, which resulted in her dismissal from the program and a shattered reputation. Haunted by the escalating allegations, Lydia plows forward, but this might be the one situation she can't so easily control. And it very well could destroy her.          

Rather than speculate how or why Lydia would abuse her power, the more pertinent issue becomes...why not? With no one willing to hold her accountable for anything, she can. It's a perk of being a revered musical genius, which isn't to say she got there by accident. That's what makes this so compelling, as Field immerses us in her world for over two and a half hours, giving the potential wrongdoings room to marinate around this seemingly untouchable figure who's reputation will soon come crashing down to Earth.

The now infamous Julliard lecture scene is a microcosm for the entire film, as one of Lydia's students, Max (Zethphan Smith-Gneist), makes it known that as a BIPOC pangender they're no fan of Bach. And is Lydia ever the wrong person to tell that, as they argue before the humiliated student storms out of class. What's so fascinatingly uncomfortable about this episode is that she brings up a completely valid point about the dangers of dismissing art or music on the basis of the personal life of its creator. But in trying to convey that confronting the work head-on can often lead to a greater understanding, she gets lost in the throes of her performative narcissism. 

In taking a reasonable position she's more than entitled to, Lydia confidently owns the room, and while this kid clearly never stood a chance, it sends up the first red flag about her personality and how she handles those who disagree. It's a pattern that repeats itself and in hindsight can be looked at through another lens once those allegations hit. 

It's Lydia's behavior that triggers our doubts, along with what appears to be a predilection for younger women that everyone in her orbit seems fully aware of, especially her sickly wife Sharon, and more quietly concerned assistant Francesca. She shares genuine moments with both, but they know what she's all about, and the lengths she'll go to manipulate the power structure to fit her needs. Even the vulnerable Sebastian, a conductor on the chopping block, knows, and we see how quickly she weaponizes that against him. Lydia's only real, non-transactional connection is with her daughter and  that's overshadowed by a chilly schoolyard encounter with one of her classmates.

There are no accidents in a film this meticulously constructed so Field's decision to have an alleged sexual predator be a gay woman rather than your typical straight white male isn't irrelevant. The decision definitely splits the deck in a way, pushing gender politics aside while also taking pains not to prejudice us either way in regards to her potential guilt. In telling so much of her story without words, he uses music, sounds, gestures and visuals to get inside a certain life and routine, baring witness to a career slowly crumbling, piece by piece. 

Going far enough in depicting the minutiae of her everyday that you'd be forgiven for thinking it's a biopic of a real person, Blanchett believably captures how exalted individuals like this can find ways to constantly compartmentalize their actions. It's long, but there isn't a moment wasted as you're hypnotized by the details and clues, realizing there's a lot more to this than what appears on the surface, with the film even flirting in supernatural thriller territory. And none of this necessarily confirms Lydia's guilt, leaving us to imagine what else could have been found, or even consider it really is the case of a troubled girl targeting her. 

Krista's suicide marks the no point of return, but how it's handled is the film's masterstroke, offering another unique perspective on Lydia that invites extra consideration. More than one thing can be true at once, as coming from very little to scratch and claw her way to the top seems to have defined all her later actions. And while she's relatively dismissive about how being a woman affected this path, it's fair to assume it had an impact.

Field gives us numerous opportunities to figure Lydia out, as if such a maddening puzzle could ever be completely solved. But we get to know the woman so well that it's easy to guess what she had for breakfast yesterday, the type of wine she'll send back in a restaurant, or her Sight and Sound film ballot. Blanchett brilliantly embodies all these contradictions and conundrums, providing good reason to tout this as one of her finest performances, if not most compulsively watchable. And given who we're talking about, that's not small praise.

Lydia physically attacking her replacement for Mahler's 5th is shocking enough, but the killer ending reveal is both pitifully depressing and outright hilarious, leaving little doubt as to the depths she's sunk, while reopening the floodgates for further debate. If conducting the Monster Hunter video game score in an auditorium full of cosplayers is a jarring surprise, it's one contrasted by how seriously she still manages to take the work. 

Considering her enormous ego, this new job should be a fate worse than death, cruel karmic comeuppance on par with that guest conductor role, or more insultingly, a human metronome. But she outwardly treats this humiliation as if it were no different from the Berlin Philharmonic, accessing that childhood love of music we glimpsed when she tearfully watched Bernstein's VHS tapes in her old home. 

Whether she's Linda or Lydia, it hardly matters anymore, as even her estranged brother acknowledges how she never quite figured that out. But seeing her conduct for an audience you could easily picture her mocking, the realization sets in that Lydia's arrogant and determined enough to believe she'll come back from this. And knowing what we do, it's entirely possible she's right. 

Nightmare Alley

Director: Guillermo del Toro
Starring: Bradley Cooper, Cate Blanchett, Rooney Mara, Toni Collette, Willem Dafoe, Richard Jenkins, Ron Perlman, David Strathairn, Mary Steenburgen, Peter MacNeill, Holt McCallany, Paul Anderson, Jim Beaver, Clifton Collins, Jr., Tim Blake Nelson
Running Time: 150 min.
Rating: R 

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Part remake, part noir homage, Guillermo del Toro's Nightmare Alley will likely go down as one of those more respectable reimaginings that gets more right than wrong, making for an immersive, entirely agreeable experience. Free of the supernatural elements that have categorized much of del Toro's work, all the attention shifts to the soullessness and moral corruption that resides within. And there isn't a much better a setting for that than traveling sideshow carnivals of the 30's and 40's, populated by downtrodden characters being either used, abused or manipulated as scams and cons run amok. With a script from del Toro and co-writer Kim Morgan, the second feature adaptation of William Lindsay Gresham's 1946 novel doesn't stray too far from the source material in the narrative sense, instead stylistically distinguishing itself in a class of its own, as del Toro's output tends to. 

With a stacked, all-star-cast and awe inspiring production design, the plot's essentially one long con game, and while the second half payoff's considerably more impactful than what precedes it, the whole setup looks better in retrospect, especially once the story arrives at its inevitably tragic destination. There's a certain aesthetic superficiality at play that matches its characters, so even while it doesn't transcend the horror genre to evolve into something more profound, you'd still be hard-pressed to find a a movie of its ilk more technically proficient or firing on as many cylinders.

It's 1939 and Stanton Carlisle (Cooper) takes a job as a carny after burning down his house with a dead body inside. When the carnival's owner, Clem Hoatley (Willem Dafoe) recruits him to help with the show's geek, who's fallen ill, Stan moves up to begin working with clairvoyant Madame Zeena (Toni Colette) and her alcoholic husband, Pete Krumbein (David Strathairn), who teaches him the secrets of their act. While learning and studying their cold reading and coded language tactics, he begins to fall for shy performer Molly Cahill (Rooney Mara), offering up some valuable new ideas for her electrocution act. But after Pete dies from consuming wood alcohol, Stan takes the lessons he's learned on the road with Molly as his assistant, leaving their carnival days behind to reinvent himself as a psychic act for Buffalo's wealthy elite. 

Ignoring Pete's warnings about leading people on when it comes to contacting the deceased, Stan's bluff is called by mysterious psychologist Dr. Lilith Ritter (Cate Blanchett), who attempts to publicly expose  his act as a fraud, with little success. Humiliated but intrigued by the scammer, she offers him a deal involving a rich but potentially dangerous patient named Ezra Grindle (Richard Jenkins) whose lover died years ago from a forced abortion. Despite Molly's objections, Stan makes promises to Grindle about his late partner he may not be able to keep, ensnaring himself in a web of lies and deceit from which there may be no escape. 

What makes this all mostly work is that there's just enough revelations and twists in the script, while still remaining relatively simple at its core. Themes of greed, avarice and betrayal are front and center, eventually coming full circle in a powerful ending, but not before some convoluted happenings occur along the way. Del Toro strikes just the right tone, especially in the early carnival scenes that set Stan on his dark path, eventually dragging Mara's Molly down along with him, though she admittedly registers a bit flat as a character.

Cooper's incredibly effective depiction of the protagonist's transformation from wide-eyed, ambitious awe into obsessive greediness is facilitated by the supporting cast. Whether it's Strathairn's hopeless drunk, Collette's tarot reader or Dafoe's swindling huckster, they all more than carry their share of the load. As does Tamara Deverell's production design and Dan Laustsen's cinematography, which immerses them all in this weathered, dirty, depressing "freak show" world. That this was also released in black and white actually makes a lot of sense, as it's hard to think of any recent picture with a content and visual style better suited to that treatment without it feeling like a gimmick. 

It isn't until Stan takes his act on the road with Molly and encounters Dr. Ritter that the movie really comes alive, with the possibility presenting itself that the ultimate player has finally met his match.  Blanchett's femme fatale looms largest of any character, bringing a cunning, seductive sense of danger and intrigue to Ritter with each carefully calculated move she makes. Her nomination-worthy performance is the ideal fit for this material, with the chemistry she shares with Cooper fueling the film's most tension-filled moments, even as it's clear the direction del Toro's heading in the last act. 

There are clues and brief flashbacks emphasizing a past Stan needs to run far away from, but can't, no matter how hard he tries. With this mentalist show, he's devised a one-way ticket to the big time, unaware his own weaknesses are about to be exploited and exposed as callously as his clients have been by him. What starts as a scheme goes entirely too far, his eventual comeuppance arriving in the final scene, sentenced to the very life he so desperately tried to escape, at any cost imaginable.    

Even as Del Toro's direction trumps the script, you'd often never know it, as the atmosphere and performances carry the day, specifically Bradley Cooper's. Further extending his run as maybe the most consistently reliable actor and movie star working today, he delivers again with his portrayal of this ambitious, narcissistic carny more than willing to sell his soul, or anyone else's, for a quick buck. Relentlessly depressing and darkly humorous, Nightmare may not be for all tastes, but it's still a keeper, likely to be revisited down the line as something slightly more accomplished than its critical and commercial reputation suggests.  

Don't Look Up

Director: Adam McKay
Starring: Leonardo DiCaprio, Jennifer Lawrence, Rob Morgan, Cate Blanchett, Meryl Streep, Jonah Hill, Mark Rylance, Tyler Perry, Timothée Chalamet, Ron Perlman, Ariana Grande, Scott Mescudi, Himesh Patel, Melanie Lynskey, Michael Chiklis
Running Time: 138 min.  
Rating: R 

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

The loudest conversations surrounding Adam McKay's sci-fi satire, Don't Look Up, might center on the likelihood of an event as cataclysmic as what's threatened in the film actually occurring. But that depends on what you consider the real tragedy. A comet potentially wiping out the planet or the hilariously awful ineptitude in which that information's handled by the supposedly smartest, most capable in our society, entrusted to make decisions for humanity's well-being. Could any of this happen? The quickest answer is that it just did, only not with a comet, and this is what gives McKay's film so much power, lifting it from social commentary into something far more scathing and relevant. But that's only half the story, as it takes aim some of the biggest, timeliest targets imaginable, rarely missing.

Having already directed the polarizing The Big Short and Vice, McKay's no stranger to walking a tightrope that sometimes frustrates as many viewers as it delights, but this is operating on a much higher plane. What's most surprising about is how he manages to repeatedly hit these impossible marks, bringing the laughs for almost two and a half hours straight. You sit there expecting it to completely run out of steam because it's just so broad and of the moment, but the truth just keeps funneling through, exposing self-interested government and society that have no idea how pathetically clueless they are. Not that they'd care anyway.  

Whatever divisive reactions exist to the the film itself, it's much harder to claim Leonardo DiCaprio, Jennifer Lawrence or even Meryl Streep have ever tackled the kinds of parts they're given here. It feels like a real first, witnessing performers of their caliber strongly playing against preconceptions to juggle some really difficult material they likely jumped at the chance of challenging themselves with. Uncomfortably hilarious, it holds a harsh, revealing mirror up to a society many will recognize as pitifully identical to the one we've been living in for the past couple of years, if not far longer.

When Michigan State University astronomy doctoral candidate Kate Dibiasky (Lawrence) discovers a previously unseen comet hurling toward Earth, her mentor and professor, Dr. Randall Mindy (DiCaprio) comes to the frightening calculation that it'll hit in six months, resulting in an "extinction level event." Joined by NASA's Planetary Defense Coordination head, Dr. Dr. Teddy Oglethorpe (Rob Morgan), they're summoned to the White House to present this information to disinterested President Janie Orlean (Streep) and her obnoxious son and Chief of Staff, Jason (Jonah Hill). With midterm elections on the horizon and a scandal involving a Supreme Court Justice nominee breaking, Orlean selfishly advises them to just sit on it to avoid more bad press.

Shaken by the President's apathy, Kate and Randall leak the news to the media at Oglethorpe's urging,  soon discovering that the public may also not be as receptive to this information as they thought. But with Orlean's popularity dipping amidst further scandal, she realizes her team may be able to use this impending catastrophe and the scientists to her political advantage. With the help of billionaire tech CEO and key donor Peter Isherwell (Mark Rylance), Orlean's plan for handing the comet crisis is put into motion, dividing the nation and sowing unneeded doubt about its very real danger. It'll be up to Kate and Randall to convince the public what's really happening, but it might be too late, as the rapidly approaching comet remains on course to take out human civilization. 

From the very start, there's an anti-science sentiment Kate and Randall have to battle that quickly chips away at everything they knew about themselves and how the government, media and public view their work and competency. Or more accurately, people just don't like bad news and will come up with any excuse not to receive it. Undermined and humiliated from the moment of discovery, they're  now in over their heads, sucked into a machine intended to dismantle and destroy them for stating facts. While it appears one of them is more capable of handing this, even that doesn't end up being true, with the situation understandably rattling them both to their core in very different ways. 

The astronomers have unknowingly entered an arena where Earth's impending demise is laughed off and mocked by fluff morning TV hosts Brie Evantee and Jack Bremmer (Cate Blanchett and Tyler Perry), whose phony banter, goofy jokes and insistence on "keeping things light" result in some of the film's funniest, but most depressingly realistic moments. Blanchett and Perry are so good in these scenes, perfectly capturing the kind of annoying, celebrity and social media obsessed camera hogs flooding the air on every major "news" outlet. With hosts far more interested in music star Riley Bina's (Ariana Grande) recent breakup with DJ Chello (Scott Mescudi) than a comet wiping out Earth, the scientists start realizing the level of stupidity they're up against, which extends far beyond just the political spectrum.     

The journey DiCaprio takes Randall on is really something, as this seemingly nerdy, Xanax popping, numbers-obsessed scientist has to find his media sea legs after being thrust into the spotlight. A simple man enjoying a comfortable, if pleasantly mundane life back home with his devoted wife June (Melanie Lynskey) and grown kids, he's suddenly a huge celebrity pressured into telling everyone what they want to hear. And as those drawbacks and rewards push back against his principles, he'll have to make some tough moral choices. As a weakened Randall teeters on the verge of implosion, DiCaprio has what might be his best scene out of many, completely snapping as he channels Peter Finch's Howard Beale in Network with a breakdown that feels like the culmination of everything this guy and the country's been put through.

As Randall adjusts to becoming a media sensation, it's Kate taking the brunt of the backlash, framed as a fear-mongering psycho despite being more well-adjusted and sensible than most. Publicly demeaned by everyone from her journalist boyfriend (Himesh Patel) to the President herself, she's the character who earns the most amount of empathy, as even the naming of the "Dibiasky Comet" feels like an intentional slap in the face, putting an even bigger target of unjustifiable blame on her back. 

With an seemingly permanent look on her face conveying utter disbelief at this insanity, Lawrence's "comeback" performance after a three year break ranks as one of her most nuanced and fascinating, reminding us all what we've missed. Between the President's cruel categorization of her as a poster girl for "disaffected youth and mental illness" and her son's sarcastic cheap shots at Kate's looks and intelligence, Lawrence conveys her character's boiling impatience and frustration with often just a single, piercing glance that speaks volumes. Beaten down through much of the film, she never makes Kate a doormat, imbuing her with the strength and resourcefulness to curb this corrupt hypocrisy, regardless of the consequences.

McKay also incorporates all these smaller details into the script that make for a surreal viewing experience, like the fact this narcissistic, power-hungry President has her own incompetent son serving as Chief of Staff, adding nepotism and cronyism to the list of malfeasance. And if it's going to still be a long running complaint that Streep's nominated for anything, why isn't she even being discussed for this? It's one of the rare recent examples of her taking a huge unexpected leap with this blistering portrayal of a delusional Commander in Chief that may contain some Hillary Clinton mannerisms, but by the actress's own admission, is entirely based on Trump. What's most impressive is the nonchalant arrogance with which Streep plays Orlean, who never once considers the option that anyone will hesitate in doing exactly what she says while happily kissing her ass at the same time. And sadly, she's completely right.

Mark Rylance is weirdly brilliant as BASH cellular CEO Peter Isherwell, a nightmare hybrid of Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos, Steve Jobs, Richard Branson or any other eccentric, self-absorbed tech billionaire promising to better everyone's lives. There's an expected way to play someone like this, but McKay has Rylance throw that rule book out the window, instead giving him these delightfully strange quirks that add so much to the persona. From Isherwell's odd accent to the creepy calmness, he's either mumbling unintelligibly, leaving out words or staring into space while talking, often making no sense whatsoever. It would have been so easy and predictable to play him as this kind of evil overlord, but McKay's smarter than that, knowing it's the disingenuous benevolence that makes this character resonate. Rylance goes all in, providing his own bizarre take on how these very recognizable personality types behave. 

There have been complaints about film's length, but in this particular case it feels strangely warranted, and that's coming from someone who cringes at any comedy or drama going beyond the two-hour mark. As with any picture, you could probably find areas to trim and tighten, but there's nothing egregiously obvious here. If pressed, even the two weakest sub-plots involving Ariana Grande's pop star character and Kate's relationship with a skateboarding shoplifter named Yule (Timothée Chalamet) don't unnecessarily extend the proceedings. The former is given brief, proportional screen time while you could argue Lawrence and Chalamet's performances help land that latter storyline land in a much better, more meaningful place heading into the third act. As for supposed issues with tone, given the material needs to alternate wildly between laugh-out-loud satire and dramatic events that suddenly seem a lot less fictional now, McKay remains remarkably consistent.               

Just when you think this has run out of people and ideas to skewer or went as far over-the-top as possible, its ending moves the goalpost. But none of it would work if there wasn't something real there with characters who are invested with a depth that make them work as both parodies and people. Comparisons have inevitably been made to Dr. Strangelove, but a more accurate reference point might be the similarly misunderstood, even less easily digestible Southland Tales, in which an eclectic, all-star cast of actors are placed inside an ambitiously imagined universe on the brink of socio-political collapse. Don't Look Up allows us to laugh at all the absurdity, relieved that someone finally had the guts to just say it, and this entertainingly well. With an evergreen quality likely to hold up over repeated viewings, it's the ultimate time capsule, providing a crazy snapshot of a world where the truth's become convenient to dismiss, but even easier to ignore.        

Burning Questions from the 2014 Academy Awards

Does it speak to my interest in this year's telecast that I didn't bother watching any of the red carpet show?

Even just to laugh at it?

Wait, Jennifer Lawrence fell...again?

Wasn't it a relief not to open the show with a tiresome musical number?

After getting too many of them in recent years, wasn't the absence of musical numbers entirely a relief?

How long before people start complaining they want Seth MacFarlane back?

Is anyone ever going to cut the Oscar host a break?

Isn't it really a thankless job?

How about that Liza Minnelli joke?

Wasn't Jennifer Lawrence a great sport?

Aren't her facial reactions great?

Wasn't the Jonah Hill joke funny?
 
Didn't Ellen do a good job of keeping the monologue short and sweet?

Don't you wish the rest of the show moved as rapidly?

All things considered, didn't she open this pretty well?

Would you have guessed his win would be the first of many, many appearances Jared Leto would make throughout the night?

How about Pharrell's hat?

Was it really wise of me to assume the Academy would give makeup to a film titled, "Jackass Presents: Bad Grandpa?"

Could Harrison Ford come off any grumpier and bored if he tried?

Wouldn't JGL and Emma Watson make a good on-screen couple?

Wait... Kim Novak?!

Does it look like maybe she's had a little work done?

When she came out with McConaughey did you think she was the Yellow King?

Does Gravity insure that everyone will at least correctly predict every technical category?

Why does it look weird seeing U2 performing at the Oscars?

But isn't it nice having actual performances of the nominated songs again?

Does anyone miss dopey musical numbers that would have taken its place?

Did you notice Jared Leto inviting himself into the selfie?

Did you catch Liza Minnelli trying and failing to squeeze in?

Was it just not her night?

Don't we love her anyway since she's Lucille Austero?

Given her recurring vertigo, would she have been a better choice to present with Kim Novak?

Does someone saying they're going to make something the most "retweeted ever" just make you not want to reweet it?

Am I contributing to that epidemic by reposting it above?

Was there really any doubt which photo I'd use?

Does Kevin Spacey win the Oscar for Best photobomb?

Shouldn't he host the show next year...as Frank Underwood?

Michael B. Jordan and Kristen B. Ell?

Can you believe Christoph Waltz is already a two-time Supporting Actor winner?

For the same role?

Was Lupita Nyong'o's acceptance speech on of the few memorably emotional ones in recent years?

Was seeing all these stars deciding on pizza funnier than it had any right being?

Didn't Ellen really commit to that entire bit in an admirable way?

Do we now know the only thing that makes Harrison Ford smile?

Did the whole pizza bit work because it actually looked like everyone was having fun at this event for a change?

Did you see how into it Martin Scorsese was?

Were you as hungry for pizza as I was?

Was Bill Murray's shout-out to Harold Ramis the most moving moment of the night or what?

Isn't is amazing that even here Murray can still shock and delight us?

How do we live in a world where neither of those guys have won an Oscar?

Does anything say The Wizard The Oz more than a performance from Pink?

What's with this whole "heroes" theme?

Should the In Memoriam segment be renamed the "What obscure person was left out so everyone can complain on Twitter" award?

Wasn't it heartbreaking seeing Roger Ebert, James Gandolfini, Harold Ramis and Philip Seymour Hoffman in the montage?

Wasn't Sarah Jones' passing handled strangely, with a message telling us to just go to the web site?

Shouldn't they get credit for at least doing something on such short notice?

When Bette Midler came out did the heroes theme only then start to make a bit more sense?

Did I ever tell you you're my hero?

That you're everything I wish I could be?

ADELE DAZIM?!

Is everyone who went out on a limb to pick Her for Original Screenplay feeling pretty good?

Doesn't Cuaron come off as a great guy?

Did anyone really think Cate Blanchett wouldn't thank Woody Allen?

Do people who think she shouldn't need to get some perspective that we're honoring the work?

Is McConaughey the only Best Actor winner with his own legitimate catchphrase?

Isn't that kind of cool?

Is Will Smith the only Razzie winner to have presented Best Picture the following day?

Didn't the pacing of the show kind of hit a snag in the last hour and a half?

What does it say when keeping it under four hours is an accomplishment?

12 Years an Oscar telecast?

Am I in shock I missed only two categories the entire night?

Am I glad I adjusted my predictions before the show?

Can you believe how many wins Gravity had without taking Best Picture?

Did American Hustle really just get completely shut out?

Despite being hit or miss at times, is Ellen the first host in a while to actually earn a return invite?

Doesn't it seem like we have the same complaints and discussions about the Oscars every year?

Given this year's crop of films, is the 7 percent rise in viewership proof this show was as entertaining as it could have possibly been?

Blue Jasmine

Director: Woody Allen
Starring: Cate Blanchett, Alec Baldwin, Sally Hawkins, Bobby Cannavale, Louis C.K., Andrew Dice Clay, Peter Sarsgaard, Michael Stuhlbarg, Tammy Blanchard, Max Casella
Running Time: 98 min.
Rating:  PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

It's somewhat ironic that Woody Allen's most tolerable film in years centers around an intolerable character. At least to the other characters. But to us she's compelling and even at points captivating. Observing the actions of the title character in Blue Jasmine is comparable to watching a train wreck. That's a change of pace since the most toxic element in any Woody Allen film is usually him, whether he's in front of the camera or not. He hasn't made what could be considered a truly great film in decades despite turning out one feature a year like clockwork. Sometimes it feels like he's making them just to make them and keep working even if he doesn't have anything important to say. More frustratingly, it's not like any of these films are awful, as that might be some indication he's really going for it. Instead, most have been mediocre or even occasionally forgettable.

Aside from a powerhouse lead performance of alarming proportions, it's tough to say Blue Jasmine necessarily breaks the Woody mold but it's definitely stronger and more interesting than Whatever Works, To Rome With Love and the overpraised Midnight in Paris. Coming from someone who far prefers him tackling drama, there's more than enough drama to spare here, while still offering a spattering of laughs, most of which are dark and uncomfortable. He's good at this stuff and should do character studies more often, even if this can't exactly be considered an "original screenplay" in any way, shape or form. There are direct sequels and remakes that have less in common with their source than this script does with Tennessee Williams' A Streetcar Named Desire. Luckily, it was probably due for an update anyway, so at least it's given a good one.      

Rich socialite Jasmine French (Cate Blanchett) has recently fallen on hard times, as her former husband, New York financier Hal Francis (Alec Baldwin) was sent to prison for fraud, forcing her to move to San Francisco to stay with her sister, Ginger (Sally Hawkins). Through flashbacks, we're given important glimpses of Jasmine's marriage to Hal and her relationship with Ginger and then husband Augie (Andrew Dice Clay), both of whom she looked down on at the time as lower class degenerates. Year later, Jasmine's attitude remains mostly the same even as Ginger has since moved on with a mechanic named Chili (Bobby Cannavale). Battling her own history of mental illness and emotional instability, Jasmine wastes little time popping pills, drinking heavily, mocking her sister's lifestyle choices and insulting her friends. But the true horror comes when she actually has to go out and get a real job. It isn't until she meets and falls for wealthy, widowed diplomat Dwight (Peter Sarsgaard) that she's given a fresh chance at happiness.

Complex in both conception and execution, the title character is the reason it all works. Part protagonist, part antagonist, Jasmine could have easily been written or performed as a cliche of upper class entitlement, or worse yet, a crazed sociopath. And while there will undoubtedly still be those who think she qualifies as both, Blanchett brings a lot more to it than that, despite it being the type of performance that couldn't be classified as subtle. Being sickened by Jasmine's actions is a given, but the actress forces us into believing she might actually have potential as a human being if she weren't so self-absorbed and superficial. That both she and Ginger were adopted is an important detail since they're so different no one would possibly believe they're sisters otherwise, which is an underlying (if not overlying) source of tension in their relationship. It's clear from their interactions Jasmine was always the favorite growing up and it's even more plainly obvious Ginger is only her sister when she needs something. And yet, frustratingly, Jasmine's observations that her sister is wasting her life and potential are spot on. She pretty much is.

Hawkins portrays an often clueless and naive woman who's settling in every aspect of her life, especially when it comes to romance. It's rare having a supporting character (especially a familiar type like the put upon sister) that's as well developed as the lead and Hawkins deserves much of that credit. Torn between the hot-tempered Chili and a guy named Al (Louis C.K.) who she meets at a party and carries on an affair, both alternately straddle the line between caring, sensitive guys and total losers. The truth probably resides somewhere in between, but the exuberant Cannavale is one of the best things in this and the thrill of seeing Louis C.K. in a Woody Allen movie, even in such a small dose, doesn't disappoint. It also really gets the mind racing about how great it would be if Louie were given the same opportunity as Larry David to carry his own Allen vehicle.

There have been raves for Andrew Dice Clay's performance and while he is surprisingly solid in a small, but pivotal role, I can't help but think much of that praise stems from the shock of not only seeing the controversial comic in a quality film, but managing to hold his own. Still, it's a casting masterstroke as Augie's very existence in the story serves as set-up for a huge, climactic scene in the third act where Jasmine's past indiscretions catch up with her. Baldwin's sleazy as ever as her lying, philandering, Madoff-like ex-husband, but it's Blanchett doing most of the work, devouring scenes left and right.

As heinous as Jasmine seems, the actress does seem to work up a considerable amount of empathy for her given her situation isn't one that naturally elicits much (if any) sympathy at all. By society's standards, she was on top of the world and used to living a certain lifestyle so it only makes sense she would break when it all comes crashing down. Her foray into the working world as a receptionist for an overexcited dentist (played by Michael Stuhlbarg) reveals almost as much about the character as it does Allen himself, who's been justifiably accused of being out of touch with the rest of society (an office without computers?) It's also interesting how the San Francisco setting feels and looks no different than the director's detours overseas to Paris or Rome. This shares the basic feel of every other recent Woody movie, but it's darker in tone and centered around a performance leagues ahead of what we're used to in his usual outings.

When we eventually learn the exact circumstances of her former husband's downfall, there's even more to talk about and Blanchett's work somehow seems even more intricate in retrospect. The worst thing that could happen to her is being teased with a shot at reclaiming the wealth and privilege she originally relished and still yearns for. For all her deception and shame to try to cover up her previous life, we still see how Sarsgaard's wealthy diplomat would fall for her class, beauty and sophistication, even as she unintentionally works as hard as possible to sabotage herself. She's the kind of person whose compliments even seem like backhanded insults.

It's difficult not to respect Allen for refusing to compromise by letting the character arrive at some sudden self-realization that would feel false for someone as emotionally unstable as she. Everything is particularly twisted and unpleasant, which comes as a relief from a director not exactly known for his risk taking in recent years. While there's nothing particularly surprising about Blue Jasmine aside from that and Blanchett's barn burning turn, it marks the first time in a while there are actually issues to contemplate and discuss coming out of a Woody Allen picture.                  

Hanna

Director: Joe Wright
Starring: Saoirse Ronan, Cate Blanchett, Eric Bana, Tom Hollander, Olivia Williams, Jason Flemyng, Jessica Barden
Running Time: 123 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

For as many story plots get recycled and movies remade it's at least reassuring to know there's still new and surprising ways acting performances can blow you away. The one given by Saoirse Ronan as a 16-year-old assassin in Hanna is proof of that. It's one thing for an actress her age to summon up enough poise, confidence and physical presence to believably portray a trained killing machine but what stuck out most for me out when it ended were all the other scenes where she's also called upon to play a scared, awkward teen. Comparisons have already been made to last year's Kick-Ass, which featured Chloe Moretz as a tween aged, foul-mouthed superhero killer named Hit-Girl but that character was was more satirical in nature. Director Joe Wright is deadly serious here, and takes a huge gamble in the process. But when it ended I was left with the feeling I had witnessed more than your routine action thriller, even if no one could be blamed for thinking that when evaluating the plot on paper.  Half action movie, half beautifully twisted fairy tale, it's not for everyone and will probably put off as many as it thrills, but it's still difficult to claim you've seen anything exactly like it.

Raised and trained in the woods of Finland by her father, ex-CIA agent Erik (Eric Bana), 16 year-old Hanna Heller (Ronan) is ready to go out on her own. With just the flick of a switch, a transmitter alerts the government to their location, setting their plan into motion for Erik to escape and Hanna to eventually meet up with her dad following a trek through Germany. Getting in the way of that reunion and leading the charge in their capture is the calculating Marissa Zeigler (Cate Blanchett) an obsessive CIA operative with a personal connection to the case who clearly wants Erik taken dead, but also harbors a strange fascination with the girl. Moving at a deliberate pace that effectively builds tension and suspense, Hanna's journey at times more closely resembles a road trip than a manhunt as she falls in with a married couple (Olivia Williams and Jason Flemyng) on vacation and forms a friendship with their teenage daughter (Jessica Barden) but Marissa's always lurking in the shadows, as is her flamboyantly sadistic henchman Isaacs (Tom Hollander). Trained to kill but emotionally unprepared for the real world around her, Hanna must evade capture long enough to reunite with her papa in Berlin.

While the plot  may seem bare bones on the surface, but that's to its credit as the discoveries come in the details. Beyond the exciting action, this is really coming-of-age character study interested in exploring the psychological implications of an isolated child suddenly thrust into the real world without a life raft. Trained only to kill and protect herself, the most memorable sequences occur when Hanna's confronted with everyday life. This is a girl who can shoot someone in cold blood, but is scared to death of an electric kettle, giddily jumps up and down at the sight of an airplane, and has no idea how to work a remote control. She's been taught multiple languages and history by her father and is given a rehearsed back story to tell strangers, but there's no substitute for actual experience, which is why her journey is so scary. So far ahead of any child her age in terms of physical capability and intelligence, what stands out is how far behind she is emotionally. Because the script is so deeply interested in getting into the protagonist's head space it becomes more than your standard action outing, which could turn off some viewers expecting only chases and kills (not to say there isn't plenty).  There's an artistry at work that we're not used to seeing in a mainstream thriller in terms of the editing, performances, visuals and most memorably, an adrenaline fueled, pulse pounding score from the Chemical Brothers that couldn't possibly provide a better backdrop for many of the brilliantly choreographed action sequences.

Ronan's performance is flat-out unbelievable for precisely how impressively she handles Hanna's duality, shifting from scared little girl to trained assassin and back again at seemingly the drop of a hat. The underrated Eric Bana's greatest asset as Erik is his ability to invisibly slide into the fatherly role and not mind being upstaged by his younger co-star. As their nemesis, Cate Blanchett looks to be having the time of her life hamming it up as the "wicked witch" hunting the little girl, giving the kind of villainous performance that isn't too far removed from her work in Indiana Jones and The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull a few years ago (albeit this time in a quality film). Even while struggling a bit with what I think is supposed to be a southern accent, she makes Marissa Zeigler a cold, calculating perfectionist and I loved the small details that were put in to show that, like her obsessive dental hygiene and sterile apartment. She's a villain with an edge in a movie that not only feels edgy but also more "R" than "PG-13." Part of that could just have to do with the subject matter, though more of it probably has to do with presentation, visual style and tone.

There's one brief, but masterful performance that hijacks the movie and turns it into something darker and meaner. As Marissa's right hand man Isaacs, Tom Hollander almost seems to be channeling A Clockwork Orange's Alex if he were creepily reimagined as an effeminate tennis tracksuit wearing owner of a transvestite disco club. And how many villains have ever get their own catchy theme song, much less one so catchy even they whistle it? Hollander's total screen time probably doesn't even exceed 5 minutes but he makes each one of them terrifying, leaving the kind of indelible mark that deserves to be remembered come awards time.

If there's one small mistake hampering the script it's in revealing a key piece of information about Hanna that would have been better left unrevealed. One of the story's biggest strengths right from the gripping opening sequence was it's realism so there's disappointment in having a plot device introduced that's more common in a superhero or sci-fi movie, which this strives to be much more than. There's a thrill in believing for 2 hours that a young girl could be trained from an early age to do this stuff so providing a scientific explanation robs that notion of some of its mystique. If it's okay with the filmmakers I'll just pretend they never went there since that slight slip-up hardly hampers the enjoyment of the whole experience, especially with when you have an ending that not only makes ingenious use of an unconventional setting, but provides real closure. You can almost hear the book closing shut on the movie, concluding almost exactly as it began. But the best thing about Hanna is how it never seems to be wimping out in any way, taking risks while challenging the audience to appreciate details that push it out of the comfort zone we've come to expect from most mainstream action thrillers.

Robin Hood

Director: Ridley Scott
Starring: Russell Crowe, Cate Blanchett, Matthew Macfadyen, Mark Strong, Oscar Isaac, Kevin Durand, Mark Addy, William Hurt, Danny Huston, Max Von Sydow, Scott Grimes
Running Time: 140 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

Originally, Ridley Scott's Robin Hood was to be released under the title, Nottingham. That would have been a much better choice, one that at least doesn't conjure up early '90's images of Kevin Costner in the role and a certain Bryan Adams theme song. I wonder if they went for the safer, more obvious title because they feared audiences wouldn't know what it was. The only reason I'm mentioning this is because Scott is burdened with the incredibly thankless task of putting a fresh spin on a tale that's that's been told a hundred times over and can really only be told one way. At least a new title could have created the illusion that things might be different this time and a new approach would be taken. It would be something, because let's face it, any filmmaker will always be grasping at straws with a character as limited as Robin Hood. He isn't exactly deep or multi-dimensional, nor does his legend boast rich narrative possibilities that can go in a million different directions. Other than completely modernizing the story and setting it in the present day you're handcuffed with what you've got. Scott goes the only route he can, the safest and most predictable, and while this qualifies only as average entertainment at best, it's still better than it should be given the circumstances. While he falls short in his obvious attempt to duplicate adventure epics like Braveheart and his own Gladiator, I'll give him credit for perfect casting and some great battle scenes. It's mainly the overly familiar and somewhat uninvolving "untold" story that can't keep pace.

If forced to classify it, this version of Robin Hood could be considered a prequel of sorts, or more accurately, an origin story.  When King Richard (Danny Huston) is killed in a siege, his common archer, Robin Longstride (Russell Crowe) must return to London to inform the Royal Family of the king's death and witness the coronation of the deceased's younger brother, Prince John (Oscar Isaac). The evil, self-absorbed John wastes no time abusing the throne with unfair tax demands and appointment of Sir Godfrey (Mark Strong) as the collector, though he's secretly an agent of the French King using his new position to stir up a Civil War in England.  Upon arriving in Nottingham, Robin assumes the identity of slain knight Robert Loxley (Douglas Hodge), a knight who's dying request was that he deliver a sword to his blind, aging father, Sir Walter (Max Von Sydow). Loxley's also left behind a widow, Marion (Cate Blanchett), who's slow to warm up to her husband's replacement, but of course we know those cold feelings toward Robin won't last long. In fact, we already know a lot of things and that's the problem. The few details we didn't know could have just assumed, not shown to us in a prequel. From a literal standpoint, this portion is "untold," but it's also unnecessary, doing little to add to the legend of Robin Hood or Nottingham, or cause us to re-think our previous perception of the character. We do get some mileage seeing familiar faces in a slightly different capacity like a pre-"Maid" ass-kicking Marion, the somewhat goofy Sheriff of Nottingham (Matthew Macfadyen) before he becomes a major villain, Friar Tuck (Mark Addy) as a beekeeper and Robin's "Merry Men," Little John (Kevin Durand), Will Scarlet (Scott Grimes) and Alan A'Dale (Alan Doyle). But most of the thrills come from the battle scenes which, aside from ripping off Braveheart, are exciting and well choreographed, and the noticeably authentic set, costume and art design. But that should almost be the minimum requirement for a period adventure like this anyway, particularly one helmed by a filmmaker as experienced as Scott.

With both actors pushing past the forty year mark I'm sure many will complain that Crowe and Blanchett are "too old" for these roles. That's nonsense and I commend Scott for going against the grain by casting mature, experienced performers instead of someone like a Robert Pattinson or a Kiera Knightley in a misguided attempt to go younger, which could have easily tarnished the entire film. I'd imagine the pressure from the studio to do that was strong considering this is supposed to be a prequel, but such an approach would have been inappropriate for the material, and this wasn't ever going to reel in the younger crowd anyway. Prequel or not, Robin and Marion should be a man and woman not a boy and a girl and the versions we get here actually come closer their authentic origins in how they look and behave. As played by Russell Crowe, Robin is more of an action hero than he was in the past which I don't take issue with since there aren't a whole lot of other things the character could be at this point that we haven't seen already. But what's most surprising is how likable, funny and relaxed Crowe seems a role that you'd expect to be a Maximus retread and regardless of the quality of the material, he's continues to be an actor who's never given less than a top tier performance in anything. A true highlight is his witty banter and chemistry with Blanchett, who's one of the few actresses (other than maybe Jolie) capable of bringing the necessary elegance and grace to Marion, while at the same time also being believable as a feisty, strong-willed warrior ready to suit up for battle (as she does in the climactic showdown). The long overdue modernization of a character depicted in previous incarnations as merely a damsel in distress is one of the smartest details in the script by Brian Helgeland, who interestingly enough previously wrote and directed A Knight's Tale. Also helping is the presence of not just one, but two formidable villains with Oscar Isaac making an especially slimy and detestable King John.

With barely a 15 minute difference between the theatrical and unrated cut, I viewed the theatrical one and it's hard to regret that decision since a running time of just over two hours feels right whereas two and a half would seem to be unnecessarily pushing it. While it's unlikely an extra scene or two would have made the story feel any fresher or more inspired, I'd almost be curious enough to find out. The film works best as a teaching tool for directors on how to cast properly since this could have easily turned into a total disaster without talents like Crowe and Blanchett carrying it. It was an honest attempt by Scott who's onto something here since there is a joy in watching an old fashioned adventure epic that relies on story and character rather than distracting computer generated effects. I just wish the story were better and I actually cared what happened to the characters. It's a closer call than I expected and judging by the conclusion a sequel almost seems inevitable, or would have been had this made more money and anyone liked it. Maybe they can call that Nottingham.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Director: David Fincher
Starring: Brad Pitt, Cate Blanchett, Taraji P. Henson, Julia Ormond, Tilda Swinton, Jared Harris, Jason Flemyng, Elias Koteas
Running Time: 165 min.
Rating: PG-13

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

Whenever I see a list of the year’s upcoming releases and a David Fincher film is on the slate I’m always prepared to clear a very high spot on my year-end top 10 just in case. Those who know me best think I’m incapable of objectively assessing his films. They're right. Had Fincher not directed a thriller called The Game in 1997 I wouldn’t be typing this review right now. Or any review. And I definitely wouldn’t be watching as many movies as I do now or come anywhere close to appreciating the work that goes into them. Everyone has the one film that started everything for them. That was mine.

12 years later we wait on the eve of the Oscars to find out just how many of its 13 nominations Fincher’s The Curious Case of Benjamin Button can cash in on. A lot has been written and spoken about the film, nearly all of it false. The most popular (and ridiculous) accusation hurled its way is that it's a rip-off of Forrest Gump. While the two films share certain surface similarities and a screenwriter (Eric Roth), thematically the comparison doesn’t hold any water. This is a story about DEATH. Of your days passing you by before you have a chance to blink. Of missed opportunities and loneliness. Of feeling like you just don’t belong. Of watching everyone you love just fade away as you aimlessly move from one moment to the next.

For whatever reason, watching Fincher’s films have always been a deeply personal experience for me but this one really spoke to me. While it may seem odd to relate to a character that ages backwards I sometimes see myself in a state of regression, failing to keep pace with the outside world and too often a spectator in my own life. Who doesn't? So yes this film does feature a passive protagonist and that’s the point. There’s something wrong with him. He doesn’t fit. It's less Zemeckis, more Kubrick.

Mentioning Kubrick is apt not only because this is reminiscent of that legend’s best work but because both filmmakers have faced criticism that their approaches are cold and detached. Watching Fincher tackle big sweeping emotional material usually reserved for a more mainstream director is not unlike what happened in 2001 when Steven Spielberg carried out the late Kubrick’s long gestating dream project, A.I. The result was a bizarre, flawed but ultimately unforgettable a mix of both filmmaker’s sensibilities with Spielberg’s sentimentality (for better or worse) getting the final word. Say what you want about the film but it did push Spielberg to a place he hadn’t been before. Something similar happens here for Fincher's take on Roth's story, except this time the darkness wins out and the results are nearly flawless.

Argue all you want where it ranks with his greatest but it’s definitely the BIGGEST, both in scope and resonance and a technical achievement that won’t be matched anytime soon. It’s the only one of the five nominees for Best Picture that really feels like it could be a nominee in any year, not just a weak one. At nearly three hours long I wanted the film to go on even longer, dreading the moment the story and my time with this fascinating title character would end. And in a way it never really did. It engulfed me like a dream, which toward its final act resembled more of a nightmare. I clearly saw a film far different from everyone else and I can't wrap my head around why critics and audiences have reacted so unenthusiastically to it. Thankfully, the Academy completely ignored them.

Its August 2005 and as Hurricane Katrina is about to make landfall in New Orleans 80-year-old Daisy (Cate Blanchett) lies on her deathbed with daughter Caroline (Julia Ormond) by her side. Daisy has her read the diary of a man from her past named Benjamin Button. He was born in 1918 with the physical appearance of an old man, afflicted with a rare condition that causes him to age in reverse, growing younger with each passing year. His mother died during childbirth but his father, Thomas Button (Jason Flemyng) abandons the baby of the steps of a nursing home, where he’s discovered and warmly taken in by Queenie (Taraji P. Henson). She views his arrival as a blessing and unable to conceive, raises the child as if he were her own.

It’s in his teenage years when he first meets young Daisy who he connects with in a special way but won’t see again until he’s left home and experienced life. That includes working on a tugboat off the docks of New Orleans with Captain Mike (insert requisite Lieutenant Dan joke here) played by Jared Harris,’ being enlisted by the Navy during World War II and falling in love with Elizabeth Abbott, a middle-aged British woman (Tilda Swinton) he encounters at a hotel. Through it all, whether together or not, there’s always one constant for Benjamin: Daisy. Their paths veer off in completely different directions as she starts a new life for herself in New York, yet they always seem to intertwine again, even if the timing isn’t always right. It’s when they finally “meet in the middle” that the film soars to its greatest heights and becomes a devastating meditation on love and mortality.

One moment could never sum up what a film means or measure its power but when this ended a montage stuck in my mind.. An accident befalls a character and Fincher flashes back, showing us all the little, seemingly meaningless events that had to fall perfectly into place for that event to occur. Had one of those tiny circumstances not happened, there's no accident and the paths of those involved would have been considerably altered. Life is a series of windows, opening and closing at very specific times, which can be a source of both joy and unbearable sadness. We have control over it…and we don’t. That’s life, and this film is rich with every little detail of it.

I underestimated just how affecting this premise would be having only a passing familiarity with F. Scott Fitzgerald’s 1921 short story from which it’s based. But you could tell a lot of hard work went into expanding and deepening the source material to bring it to the screen. I’ve rallied long and hard against the overuse of CGI in movies but this is how visual effects should be incorporated into films….TO ACTUALLY HELP TELL THE STORY. If the reverse aging is a “gimmick” then it’s a damn good one because I could think of few things that fascinated me more recently in a movie than analyzing where this protagonist was in his life, where he was going, and what age he was at in relation to those around him.

Benjamin’s situation not only informs his interactions with everyone, but in what has to be the most criminally overlooked aspect of the entire film, the condition itself seems real. I bet a lot of people would leave this film thinking that this fictitious disease, or at least something very similar to it, could exist, and not just in the pages of a science fiction magazine. That’s what Fincher brings to the table that no one else can and that’s what makes the film’s final hour so sad and scary. We’ve all seen plenty of characters die in movies before but has one ever left us like THAT? Pitt’s performance is reactive, which is something a lot of people seem to have a problem with but that’s what’s called for. His face and body may at times be buried under make-up and special effects but he never lets us lose touch with the humanity of Benjamin. One of the film’s most accomplished visual feats, beyond believably turning Pitt into an old man is having him appear toward the end of the film exactly as he did when he made his screen debut in Thelma and Louise.

While admiring Blanchett’s performance it occurred to me despite all the awards and accolades she constantly receives and how times she’s referenced the “best actress of her generation” we’ve never seen her in a role like Daisy. She’s really never been afforded the opportunity to play the unrequited, unattainable love interest for a protagonist in a film this size. Despite her obvious talent I doubt she’d jump out in most audience’s minds as their first choice to play opposite Pitt. Now it’s tough to imagine anyone else even trying it since the movie feels most alive when she shares the screen with him. Similarly buried under prosthetic make-up she's equally impressive in her deathbed scenes opposite Ormond as that present day aspect of the film just seems to increase in poignancy and power as Benjamin's story unravels.

Don’t count me among those who believe David Fincher specializes in making cold, sterile films devoid of any emotion. There's a lot of emotion in The Game, Fight Club and even Zodiac. So much more than they're given credit for. To some degree all his work has had an underlying theme of mortality but here the window dressing is a little different. It would have been another Forrest Gump under just about any other director but he turns it into something else entirely. Something more meaningful and lasting.

I also don't subscribe to the theory that the Academy is rewarding an accomplished filmmaker for one of his lesser efforts. Far from it. So much has to be absorbed and processed in The Curious Case of Benjamin Button that it's nearly impossible to do it in a single viewing and that it's being met with indifference now is strangely appropriate. Like its protagonist, maybe the timing just wasn't right. Years from now it will be.

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

Director: Steven Spielberg
Starring: Harrison Ford, Shia LeBeouf, Cate Blanchett, Karen Allen, Ray Winstone, John Hurt, Jim Broadbent
Running Time: 122 min
Rating: PG-13

**1/2 (out of ****)

There comes a point where anticipation turns to dread. For many this year that point was called Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. I have to tread carefully here because while there’s no denying expectations always play a role in how you view a film, it shouldn’t determine it. Had this movie not been burdened with the “Indiana Jones” tag and reputation it could just be written off as a poorly made goofy throwback to B-movies of the ‘50’s. Judged strictly on those terms (which I think George Lucas and Steven Spielberg naively intended) it’s a near miss that doesn’t really work. However, as an actual Indiana Jones film it can’t be called anything other than a massive disappointment. It’s unreasonable to expect this to live up to the standard set by the first three films, but it isn’t unreasonable to expect a great film. Or even just a good one.

Calling Raiders of the Lost Ark one of the ten or twenty greatest motion pictures of all-time may not be an overstatement and for good reason it’s made many appearances on such lists. The Temple of Doom is still to this day a massively underrated sequel while The Last Crusade works as the perfect closing chapter to the series. Like many, I grew up with the character, but wouldn’t be so happy to see him on the screen again that any junk Spielberg and Lucas threw up there would have been satisfying. I can’t say that for any character or any movie series. We’re kidding ourselves if we think any big studio movie is made for any reason other than money. But that doesn’t mean it has to FEEL like it. All two hours of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull could have easily been replaced with footage of Spielberg and Lucas bathing themselves in piles of cash and it would have had the same effect.
It’s easy and probably a lot more fun to just point the finger at Lucas since he proudly takes credit for thinking it would be a great idea to center the fourth Indy film around a story about Area 51 and aliens. But Spielberg, being only the most powerful producer and director alive could have just said “NO.” Instead, he not only caved into Lucas’ insane idea, but directed the mess himself and made what’s easily his worst film in years. But more frightening is the possibility that maybe Spielberg really did think he was doing it right and this is how he views Indiana Jones. Or at least this is how he thinks we view him.

One thing that’s perfectly clear is that this Indy is not the same man from the other three films and not because he’s older. He’s a different person…a cartoon. Largely, because he’s surrounded by cartoonish elements. And while the movie works better as a stand-alone effort than as part of the series, for the uninitiated it doesn’t serve as an effective introduction to the character. The saving grace is that in the exciting last hour Spielberg seems to get his act together a little bit and something I didn’t expect to strike a chord ends up working better than expected. By then it’s too late though. The film has to settle for being just unintentionally hilarious and entertaining, nothing more than a mildly fun diversion. We waited 19 years for THIS?

The nostalgia rush of seeing Harrison Ford in the brown leather jacket and fedora again, brandishing the bullwhip, lasts approximately five to ten minutes. At least it did for me. It’s great to hear John Williams score at first but then it’s all downhill from there when you realize he uses it gratingly to punctuate every emotion in the film. I remember it beign used more sparingly and not being nearly as annoying. The best way to sum the movie up is as an extended mediocre episode of The X-Files, but way less smart and with cheesier looking visual effects. Explaining the details of the moronic script, penned by Spielberg’s go-to screenwriter David Koepp (The Lost World), could result in the death of brain cells.

Koepp can sometimes be a good writer, but most of the time he's not. His script wouldn't be completely awful for another kind of movie (likely a sci-fi comedy) but for this one it’s a disaster. The film opens with Ford being kidnapped by Russian baddie Irena Spalko (a dominatrix looking Cate Blanchett) who drags him to Area 51 to help locate a mysterious artifact. And so begins the hunt for the Crystal Skull which supposedly has psychic alien powers. Along the way Indy encounters young greaser Mutt Williams (Shia LeBeouf) who has some valuable information about the artifact’s whereabouts and ends up joining him on the quest. And unless you’ve been living under a rock for the past year you know he’s also there for another very important reason.

The supporting cast, which also includes Ray Winstone as Indy’s new sidekick and Jim Broadbent as the University Dean, are fine and and LeBeouf’s Mutt is far from the Jar Jar Binks of the series, as was initially feared by many. At worst, LeBeouf’s character is merely goofy but he does what he can with it and shares good chemistry and timing with Ford. Spalko is nothing if not a wildly memorable villain, although I’m not sure she’s an appropriate villain for an Indiana Jones film. Or maybe she’s too appropriate a villain for this one. It takes a special kind of great actress to be able to play a villainess this severe and cartoonish to full tilt and Blanchett brings the goods. But the performance can’t be enjoyed as anything beyond pure camp. I know the other films in the series never claimed to be anything but mindless entertainment, but were they ever this mindless? I don’t know about you, but while I always thought the Indy movies were fun, I never viewed them as a joke. Spielberg and Lucas obviously disagree.

At age 65, Ford has no problems slipping back into the role but the character is made to look dumb by being surrounded with a story this ridiculous. It doesn’t even feel like a situation Indy would get himself involved in. But perhaps even worse than that are the computer generated special effects, which are the fakest looking I’ve seen in any movie in years. The sets look like something you’d see on a tour of the Universal Studios backlot and at certain points I could swear I was watching actors just standing in front of cardboard backgrounds. And don’t even get me started on the monkeys and groundhogs.

Lucas and Spielberg have always been in love with CGI but I think it’s about time someone tell them that the “improved” special effects have made their movies worse. They were supposedly aiming to give this the same look and feel as the previous Indy films but it looks nothing like them at all. Bigger doesn’t necessarily equal better. Lucas made the same mistake with the Star Wars prequels and that’s a big reason they failed. So much time and effort is put into making the visual effects look good that no consideration is given the story. Then, in a cruel irony, the effects look terrible also. I’m sure this will be nominated for a bunch of technical Oscars just because it’s a Spielberg film, but LEGOS probably would have looked better.

The film does one thing exceptionally well: The re-introduction of Marion Ravenwood. The second she shows up it feels like old times again and Karen Allen’s performance is terrific. I wish she were in the movie more because she hasn’t lost a step. If the film went out of its way to make Indy a shell of his former self in the first hour he starts roaring back with a vengeance in the second. The interplay between them is classic and her presence was the shot of adrenaline the story needed. That combined with an exciting tank chase and the welcome appearance of John Hurt as a crazed former colleague of Indy’s gives the film some bite as it heads toward the finish line. Unfortunately, the closer we get to it the more we’re reminded of just how dumb the story is and in a development that had me rolling on the floor laughing, the actual ending bears more than just a slight resemblance to that of National Treasure 2: Book of Secrets. But even funnier is that the National Treasure films actually do a better job capturing the spirit of the Indiana Jones franchise than this does.

How could Spielberg and Lucas possibly think this script was suitable? What planet are they on? It was more interesting watching the special features to get some insight on that, although I’m beginning to regret doing that after hearing that Roland Emmerich’s Independence Day was Spielberg’s inspiration for doing the film and George Lucas originally wanted to title it Indiana Jones and The Saucer Men. I thought he was joking so I laughed. Until I realized he was completely serious... then I REALLY laughed. That title may actually be more truthful advertising. In fact, this film’s silly title (which perfectly conveys the picture’s tone) should have been the first clue that something was amiss right from the beginning. Supposedly, Frank Darabont had written a script for a fourth film years ago that Lucas rejected. Considering Darabont hasn’t misstepped once in his career I’d say the odds of it being stronger than Koepp’s are pretty high.

While it may read like it, I didn’t hate the film. It’s mildly entertaining and fun if taken on its own terms. I just hate the fact that these two decided to make another Indy film and this is what they had the nerve to give us. It also feels too late. The fact that everyone couldn’t get their act together and arrive on the same page to do this for this long is pathetic and we should have taken the hint. Sean Connery was wise to sit it out. Lucas and Spielberg claim they did this for the fans but then when the fans don’t like it, with many offering reasonable, constructive criticisms, they start badmouthing them. “BUT LOOK HOW MUCH $$ IT MADE!” Well, The Phantom Menace made truckloads of money also. That doesn’t speak on its quality, although I’d argue it was better than this. Then, as usual, Lucas throws his hands up in the air and complains that the die-hards would have hated anything he came up with. What a cop-out.
The Kingdom of The Crystal Skull, along with The Dark Knight, were the two mega-hyped event movies of 2008. I took some heat for giving the latter “only” three and a half stars and saying it didn’t meet expectations. But no film could have met those incredible expectations and in trying it came closer than it had any right to. It’s funny how every movie I've seen since seems inferior in comparison, which makes me wonder if I may have been too hard on it. Despite its minor issues, that film was bursting with ambition and originality. This was just phoned in long-distance to make a quick buck.

Paramount recently got all bent out of shape when an episode of South Park depicted Lucas and Spielberg raping Indiana Jones. If they’re so happy with how the movie did financially and there’s no doubt it will continue to do gangbusters on DVD, what are they so upset about? Unless it hit a nerve. They know how lazy this is and were called out on it. Saying George Lucas raped Indiana Jones is one thing but implying he raped our childhoods is giving him too much credit. All he did was embarrass himself…yet again. And he suckered Spielberg into coming along for the ride. Just like the original Star Wars trilogy the Indiana Jones movies will always be there on the shelves for us to go back to. Unfortunately, this one will be joining them.

I'm Not There

Director: Todd Haynes
Starring: Cate Blanchett, Christian Bale, Heath Ledger, Richard Gere, Ben Wishaw, Marcus Carl Franklin, Charlotte Gainsbourg, Julianne Moore
Running Time: 135 min.
Rating: R

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

I would have given anything to be a fly on the wall during the conversation between writer/director Todd Haynes and Bob Dylan’s agent when they agreed upon a direction for a movie based on the singer’s life. I’m guessing it probably went something like this:

Agent: So I ran the idea past Bob and he’s cool with it. Except, he’s got a couple of ground rules.

Haynes: Sure. Shoot.

Agent: Well, first off you can’t write a movie that’s literally ABOUT Dylan.

Haynes: I’m not exactly following.

Agent: It just has to be INSPIRED by his life. And it has to be weird. I mean really weird and completely inaccessible…like he is.

Haynes: I can do that. Didn’t you see my Karen Carpenter movie with the Barbie dolls?

Agent: I did. Great stuff. Oh, and you can’t use his name any of his really famous songs either. So no “Tangled Up in Blue” or “Shelter From The Storm.”

Haynes: What about "All Along The Watchtower?"

Agent: That one’s okay. Most people think it’s Hendrix’s anyway. Just between you and me, his version is way better.

Yeah, that doesn’t seem too far off. I should mention that I go into Haynes’ anti-biopic I’m Not There as a pretty big Bob Dylan fan. I have a lot of songs on my ipod but I skip over loads of them, usually picking out what I want to listen to depending on the mood I’m in. But I don’t have to be “in the mood” to listen to Dylan. He's one of the few artists whose music I never tire of listening to. To appreciate this film requires complete honesty regarding why it’s being made in such a bizarre style. Why instead of traveling the normal biopic route we’re instead treated to a bunch of different actors playing incarnations of arguably America’s greatest singer/songwriter at various stages of his life.

It isn’t an attempt to gain greater perspective and insight on someone who has always been a frustrating, unsolvable puzzle as a human being and a celebrity. It’s being done because Dylan is such an introverted, insecure emotional basket case that he wouldn’t be able to stand anyone putting his life on screen for the world to see. Taking this unconventional approach softens the blow for him and was likely the only way the film would have ever seen the light of day. He could only truly express himself through his music and that notion lies at the heart of the film. Probably to Dylan’s chagrin, Haynes takes full advantage of his subject and in telling us nothing plays a sneaky trick and manages to tell us nearly everything. The opening credits tell us the “film is inspired by the music and many lives of Bob Dylan” and that’s actually true. It’s the rare biographical film that does justice to its subject and now we can claim to actually have a film that’s just as affecting as the work he has given us. Others may find it a frustrating mess but even those who do won’t be able to deny its ambition or strokes of pure genius.

The film jumps between characters and timelines with no definitive three-act structure and the scenes don’t flow with each other as they would in a conventional narrative. Normally an approach like that would create a distance between the viewer and film but strangely that isn’t the case here. Against all odds it manages to be emotionally involving and while you care about some stories and incarnations of Dylan more than others, all of them hold your interest intensely. Dylan is first imagined as an 11-year-old Depression-era obsessed African American boy named Woody Guthrie (Marcus Carl Franklin) who rides the rails with his guitar. He’s meant to represent the early inspiration for Dylan’s career. As played by Franklin, he's wise WAY beyond his years. Jack Rollins (Christian Bale) is a popular folk singer who later converts to Christianity. He’s being portrayed in a film by movie star Robbie Clark (Heath Ledger) whose tumultuous home life with wife Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg) is obviously meant to echo Dylan’s own rocky marriage with his first wife Sara Lownds.

Ledger and Gainsbourg share real, palpable chemistry (both negative and positive) and with limited screen time make their story arc the most engaging in the film. It’s tough to imagine how tortuous it must have been to be married to Bob Dylan, but the mesmerizing Gainsbourg finds a way to capture it. The acoustic-goes-electric jerk Dylan depicted in D.A. Pennabaker’s 1967 documentary Don’t Look Back is imagined by Cate Blanchett as a character named Jude Quinn, while Ben Wishaw interprets the babbling poet version, Arthur Rimbaud. Both those segments are filmed in black and white with the former shot in a beautiful style reminiscent of Fellini’s 8 1/2. Richard Gere has the smallest amount of screen time as Billy The Kid, a world-weary recluse whose time appears to have long passed.

There are some bizarre but fascinating supporting turns, especially from Julianne Moore as folk singer/activist Alice Fabian, an obvious stand-in for Joan Baez, who was jilted years ago by Bale’s character. She appears in the Dewey Cox-like documentary style portion of the film and it’s scary how well she gets Baez down in manner and appearance…really scary. Michelle Williams has a small, hallucinatory type role as a girlfriend of Quinn’s while Arrested Development’s David Cross gives a funny and startlingly accurate performance as Beat poet Allan Ginsberg.

Of all the takes on Dylan the one that surprisingly interested me the least was Blanchett’s Oscar-nominated one. I think this is because we’re so familiar with that version of Dylan it’s almost impossible to be surprised or shocked by it. This section of the film explores his notoriously adversarial relationship with the press and in trying to present them as clueless, ignorant vultures (which they were) we’re also reminded again what an asshole he was. However, Blanchett does Dylan more favors than he did himself in Don’t Look Back with a slightly more sympathetic portrayal that never relies on just merely imitation. She’s also given the most memorable Dylan moment: being booed at the Newport Folk Festival for abandoning his folk roots by “going electric.” Blanchett is bold and daring, but the essence of him (or how we imagine him to be) is captured even more by Bale and Ledger. It’s awful and painfully obvious to point out, but watching the Ledger portions of the film it’s impossible not to wonder just how much the late actor’s life may have resembled that of the character he was playing. It casts a ghastly, uncomfortable pallor over the picture, yet also gives those scenes an added poignancy.

I’m probably one of the few who really enjoyed Richard Gere’s performance because it was so subdued and restrained compared to the rest, and the part calls for it to be. His character and story have been singled out as the weak link in the movie but I found it to be a compelling analogy of Dylan’s insecurity with fame and his legacy late in his career. This section also contains my favorite scene, a haunting theatrical stage show set to the unearthed Dylan gem, “Going to Acapulco” covered by My Morning Jacket. Surprisingly, despite this film’s title coming from one of Dylan’s more obscure basement tape tracks, he did actually grant the rights for his more well known songs to be used in the film. The original versions of “Stuck In a Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again,” “I Want You” and “Visions of Johanna” make appearances and they add a lot. We do get “All Along The Watchtower” but an Eddie Vedder cover as opposed to the Dylan or Hendrix version. Haynes does an excellent job giving a second life to more obscure tunes while interweaving them seamlessly with the classics.

The name “Bob Dylan” isn’t mentioned once, although pay attention late for the only literal acknowledgment of him. Knowledge of his life and work isn’t a prerequisite to enjoying this picture, but those who have it will likely find even more to appreciate. Anyone going in knowing little to nothing will likely leave wanting to learn as much about him and his music as possible. Dylan haters would probably find it entertaining too since the film doesn’t glaze over his serious personality flaws and is as appropriately frustrating and impossible to crack as he is. As for the die hard fans, they finally have a representation of Dylan on film they can really put their arms around and embrace.

It’s now almost impossible to watch another biographical film without being reminded of this one, which exposes all others as frauds. It points out how boring and uninteresting the standard biopic approach has always been. You’ll likely have fun imagining other icons being given a treatment like this and which actors could possibly play them. I’m Not There has been lumped together with another risk-taking musical film last year, Across The Universe, which used The Beatles as its inspiration. I recently re-watched that and discovered it didn’t hold up nearly as well on the second viewing. I watched this twice and loved it even more the second time and I think that’s because while most films have only one method of entry, this has seven, with a new way to get in each time. Any way you approach it, you end up knowing no more about Bob Dylan the person than you did before, and that’s okay. He remains exactly as he should be: An enigma. And in telling us nothing about him, Haynes somehow reveals so much more than we could have hoped.