Gone Baby Gone

Ben Affleck continues his career rehabilitation by stepping behind the camera for the first time and delivering a somber thriller based on a novel by Dennis Lehane (who also penned the source material for Clint Eastwood's superior and similar themed Mystic River). Gone Baby Gone tells the story of relatively unsuccessful private eye, Patrick Kenzie (Casey Affleck) who spends most of his time tracking down people who go missing of their own accord, particularly when drugs or alcohol may be involved. He lives in a run down apartment in a bad part of Boston with his girlfriend and "business associate" Angie (Michelle Monaghan) getting by on small jobs and lost relatives. He strikes the motherload of "little girl lost" cases, though, when an agitated woman (Amy Madigan) approaches him about locating her niece, Amanda, who has the great fortune of being the sort of blue-eyed, blonde-haired dream child that incites media blitzes. Taking on the biggest case in Boston pits Patrick instantly against professional police detectives who look down upon his amateurish style and locals who resent his prying into their personal business.

The film's inspection of a world within a world, the underbelly of Boston and its many unsavory locales, is riveting, authentic stuff. Both Afflecks put their knowledge of the city to good use in creating a film that gives a weighted realism to a surreally tragic story. One of the great touches to this mystery is the way it doubles as a morality tale. Not all the villains are all that evil. And not all the "good guys" are worth that title. Amanda's mother Helene (Amy Ryan) is a junkie and perhaps even a criminally negligent mother. However desperate she is to find her child, there is still a sense of complexity to the circumstance that elevates it beyond trite melodrama. It's not just a grieving mother and the evil men who stole her daughter. There's more to it than that. And it's a better film for it.

There's also no doubt that the movie's cast carries it to another level. Casey Affleck, the lesser known and proportionally more respected of the Affleck brothers, is in the midst of a breakout year. Thankfully, he is as captivating here as the baby-faced, good-hearted, but necessarily brutal Kenzie as he was as the grimly obsessive Robert Ford in The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford. The supporting cast, which also includes Morgan Freeman in fine form and Ed Harris in a scene stealing turn as a morally ambiguous detective, equals Affleck's riveting prowess. Probably the only complaints that could be justifiably made are those against Michelle Monaghan who, despite being tremendous in other roles, has very little to do here besides watch and occasionally cry.

The film itself has a few rough patches where the gears of adaptation turn a little too obviously. There is what seems to be a massive tangent midway through the film that comes sort of bristling in to our surprise. It's vital and maybe even the film's most gripping section (there's a scene involving a raid on a pedophile's home that could be the most chilling and unforgettable action sequence anywhere this year). The trouble is that what works in the grand scope of a novel sometimes makes a film seem cluttered and unfocused. The movie runs in circles a bit, but in the end we're treated to a captivating film full of suspense and questions worth considering about the nature of justice in both its official, legal form and its simpler, human varieties.

Grade: B+

DVD of the Week: Fido

With Halloween fast approaching, now is as good a time as any to get hooked on Fido, the low-budget, small treat of a zombie comedy that comes hot off the heels of Shaun of the Dead. It's not nearly as brilliant or as funny, but what Fido does offer is a great genre-blending parody of 1950s nostalgia by way of horror conformity. Now instead of Lucy whining about wanting that new fancy TV everyone else on the block already has, she's demanding that Ricky buy her the latest trend in the service industry: domestic zombies. Carrie-Anne Moss plays the doting housewife who pines for a zombie of her own. Dylan Baker is her stubborn, zombie-phobic husband who's still holding out. Billy Connolly is Fido, the lovable service zombie who eventually comes into their home and becomes "one of the family." OK, so it's a one joke comedy. It's a good joke. Watching Moss in full 1950s regalia happily bragging about her new zombie is a moment of twisted comedy worth seeing. This is a fun, little movie with a clever premise and some great laughs.

Rendition

Sweeping political epics are a tough nut to crack. There's really no little mistakes when it comes to films aiming to make powerful political and social comments about life on an international scale. There are simply films that effectively deliver their message and then there are those other ones, the ones that come up short. A thriller can be mediocre, but when you're tackling world crises it really leaves no room for foul ups. And sadly Rendition has more than a few foibles. It's not likely to incite anything nearing intense debate on the issue of extraordinary rendition, the interrogation tactic which it explores. It's not likely to satisfy the lowest common denominator thriller fan either. It's simply an admirable, sometimes engaging, big miss from director Gavin Hood (Tsotsi). Rendition is essentially this: in extreme cases of national security suspects can be picked up and transported from American soil to foreign prisons where tactics for extracting information tend to lean toward the more gruesome side of things. American agents "observe" the investigation by a foreign staff, relinquishing them, and the nation, of liability for the torture of these suspects. All rights are immediately suspended and those in custody have no recourse but to endure torture or confess to something.

Anwar El-Ibrahimi (Omar Metwally) experiences extraordinary rendition firsthand on his way home to his family in Chicago one day. Rookie CIA analyst Douglas Freeman (Jake Gyllenhaal) is sent to observe El-Ibrahimi's interrogation after an suicide bomber kills his more experienced partner, leaving him the only qualified party in the immediate vacinity. His lack of familiarity with the intensity of the process leads him to but heads with the lead interrogater, Abasi Fawal, (Yigal Naor) and he slowly begins to question the assignment more and more. Reese Witherspoon also stars as El-Ibrahimi's pregnant wife whose life comes crashing down when she realizes that her husband's disappearance is connected to a serious government investigation that expresses no concern for his well-being or the welfare of their family. She reaches out to a friend at a local Senator's office (Peter Sarsgaard) who makes fruitless efforts to shatter the defences of Corrine Whitman, (Meryl Streep) who is overseeing the mission.

There's also an embarrassingly convoluted subplot involving Fawal's rebellious young daughter that could (and perhaps should) have been a separate film. It latches on to the primary narrative like an obnoxious tangent that the storyteller just can't stop going back to. Moreover, it hinges on an elaborate shift in perspective that does nothing but bury the film in overly complex questions of time and space when really it needs to be assessing its dramatic and thematic dilemmas. Ponderous is the nicest word to give to this. It's muddled, elaborate in an annoying sort of way, and entirely ineffectual in its depictions of some of the worlds darkest truths. Any film that can feature terror in such a convoluted light that it lacks emotional power is in serious need of some tinkering. The good news is that the cast delivers a collection of performances equal to their A-list, Oscar caliber reputations. It's a shame that none of them is serviced better by the film. Too often characters vanish from screen for extended periods of time or get wasted on redundant scenes of little importance. When the camera is on Streep and her Washington power players it's off of Witherspoon and her family drama and when it's on Gyllenhaal's moral quandry it's once again left the rest of the story in the lurch. Maybe if the movie had concentrated on one specific element of this complex story it could have delivered a firmly constructed thriller of some power. As it is, it's a jumble of emotion, action, and head scratching.

Grade: C+

Lars and the Real Girl

It takes a very special kind of actor to give a searingly intense performance opposite an artificial co-star. Thankfully Ryan Gosling is just such an actor. In Lars and the Real Girl, a formidable American comedy that should go down as one of the finest in years, Gosling plays Lars Lindstrom, a loner with a heart of gold that's been so badly broken he develops a delusional perception of an internet purchased sex doll. He names her Bianca. He concocts an extensive biography that includes previous work as a missionary and a tragic family history. Then he knocks on his brother's door one night (Paul Schneider plays the brother, Gus, and Emily Mortimer Gus' compassionate wife, Karin) and proceeds to tell him how he has met the woman of his dreams. Lars, who lives next door in the converted family garage, insists that Bianca stay with Gus and Karin since they are unmarried and she is deeply religious. The two are happy to oblige but when they meet Bianca for the first time it's more than just a slight shock.

The screenplay by form "Six Feet Under" scribe Nancy Oliver is so much more than a one gag comedy. It's funny in small, giggle-worthy ways, but the real treat here is just how deeply she explores the psychological circumstances of Lars' delusion. In some moments we can laugh at the silliness of poor Lars pushing Bianca around in a wheelchair and speaking to her as a child does to an imaginary friend. And then in others we're struck by just how sad the situation is. It's not a joke. It's a serious mental illness. Patricia Clarkson enters as a concerned family doctor in the small town who doubles as a psychiatrist. She begins picking away at Lars' deep seeded depression and need for isolation. Also to his benefit is the arrival of a sweet and patient young co-worker named Margo (Thumbsucker's Kelli Garner) who makes her feelings for Lars quite obvious. Together, with the help of the whole town, Lars' family and friends slowly begin to ease him toward a realization of the truth by helping him to heal old wounds.

Lars and the Real Girl could have so easily been snatched up by The Farrelly Brothers and turned into an $80 million yukfest full of crude jokes involving silicone orrifices. Credit director Craig Gillespie (who makes his feature debut here) with nurturing the subtlety and brave spirit of Oliver's project with his beautiful photography and nuanced portraits of the film's characters in pensive moments. Rarely in comedy do we get direction focused on expressing the deepest psychological motivations of each character but Lars and the Real Girl is full of wonderfully quiet moments of grief and joy.

It's also no small feat that the film's stellar cast gives Gillespie footage that should be lingered upon and savored. The film opens with a longing look at a silent Gosling as Lars looking inward as he stares out at a new day. It's utterly empty of noise and clutter. It's simply the greatest actor of a generation baring the soul of one of film's most imaginative characters in years through tear streaked eyes and tightly wound body language. Gosling is masterful not because of anything greatly noticeable. Certainly in the film's most emotional moments he radiates pain through the screen. But what really makes him magical is what he does with silence and with minimal dialogue. He can say one thing, mean another with his eyes, and suggest something else with the way he scratches his head. He's perplexing and fascinating, a creator of characters so fully realized they come with the overwhelming contradictions and quirks of real live human beings. Among other things, Lars blinks too much. The more nervous he gets the more his eyelids start to flutter. It's small. You might miss it. But there it is. It's in small little nuances like this that the character comes to life. We get to feel as though we're discovering him in a way he doesn't even know himself and that we see him develop in ways that are not clear to him the way the are to us. It's not a performance designed to communicate a single emotion at a time. It's not a clear line from start to finish. It's layered with small touches, elusive in the way it's nearly impossible to clearly pin down the character's emotions. Gosling's performance reads so real that it's astounding to behold. And all this in a movie about sex dolls and the losers who love them? If that's not a classic, I don't know what is.

Grade: A

Wristcutters: A Love Story

Expect the unexpected with Goran Dukic's Wristcutters but don't hold your breath for a major revolution. What it offers in terms of originality is very nearly undercut with all too familiar indie comedy quirk. In fact, had this film not come out of left field with a truly unprecedented comedy concept it could be very easily written off as yet another glib indie roadtripper. What makes this trip worth taking is the gleefully morbid premise that sets the film apart from the pack.

Patrick Fugit (Almost Famous, Saved) stars as Zia, a lovelorn twentysomething who we meet upon the moment of his suicide. After his death we catch up with him again in a world that seems not entirely unlike the one he left behind. The difference, he claims, is that "everything's just a little bit worse here." It seems that all those who commit suicide end up adrift in this new world of sleazy bars and cheap apartments. For his eternal torment, Zia is stuck working at a dirty pizza joint. He befriends an eccentric former rocker named Eugene (Shea Whigham) and lives out his lousy afterlife in relative peace. That is, of course, until word spreads that Zia's true love (and motivation for his suicide) Desiree (Leslie Bibb) has also killed herself. Now Zia feels compelled to seek her out and reunite with her in this hellish new world in which no one can smile. He takes along Eugene and together the two embark on one of the cinema's weirdest roadtrips. Along the way things get complicated when a hitchhiker named Mikal (Shannyn Sossaman) threatens to steal away Zia's affections and distract him from his mission. Not to mention the world of post-suicidal misfits is far from pleasant and presents many of its own unique challenges.

One of the more taxing attributes to this prickly, funny film is the constant, inexplicable weirdnesses of this new world. There's a black hole beneath the front passenger seat of Eugene's car. There just is one. The headlights to his car never ever work. They just don't. Both of these things and many other oddities do serve some narrative functions in the end. They're not as useless as they seem. But they do often seem useless, like random devices that scream "Wacky! Wacky! Wacky!" And in these moments the film succumbs to cartoon strangeness. It's details don't seem to be beautiful nuances amounting to a unique vision as much as they seem like absurd bits and pieces designed to beat you over the head with just how quirky the story is.

That's not so say the film doesn't have its charms. It's just sort of hit or miss. Some of its snarky wit hits the right notes. Some just falls flat. Some cutesy character banter is endearing. Some just isn't. The big picture sentiments mostly shine through, particularly in the film's surprisingly sweet final moment. And it's hard to resist the cynical musings and silly antics of the film's likable, deader than dead protagonists. All in all, it's smart enough, perfectly unique, and performed wonderfully by a refreshing young cast brave enough to commit themselves to a story that tiptoes between life, death, reality, fantasy, and everything in between.

Grade: B

DVD of the Week: A Mighty Heart

Angelina Jolie's bid for a second Oscar win may have been weakened by poor box office receipts, but her performance in this docudrama about the final hours of Wall Street Journal reporter Daniel Pearl's life remains one of the more remarkable pieces of acting anywhere all year. Director Michael Winterbottom made the imperative decision here to keep Jolie submersed in the low key style of film. With her glamour and fame reduced to a pallid shadow in the deep deep background of the audience's mind, Jolie is able to give the kind of perception shattering performance her tabloid weighted screen persona usually prevents. As Pearl's wife Marianne she's showcased in a heartbreaking shade of minimalist despair and courage. What's best about this film is the cut and dry dramatics. It's a very meticulous account of the search that was undertaken in pursuit of Pearl and his captors and not nearly the kind of bombastically sentimental fluff film it might have been in lesser hands. Pearl's story is not watered down into a simple science of sorrow and sacrifice. It's colored with real world complexity and driven to a point of intense, in the moment connection to the narrative on a very human, apolitical level. A Mighty Heart pays deep respect to the Pearl family and their tragedy but never loses sight of the potency of truthful, precise storytelling. Like the most gripping pieces of journalism, it gives you a greatly detailed understanding of the situation that is both perceptively authentic and undeniably passionate.

Michael Clayton

Screenwriter Tony Gilroy (the Jason Bourne films) makes his directorial debut with this sophisticated corporate thriller about a "fixer" at a high powered law firm named Michael Clayton (George Clooney) who might have finally met his match. A billion dollar private company that manufactures a potently toxic weed killer is trying to weasel their way out of responsibility for the deaths of numerous people that were unknowingly poisoned by their product. The company's legal council (Tilda Swinton) has remained superficially collected (though internally frazzled) but the head of its defense team (Tom Wilkinson) has buckled under the pressure of fear and guilt. He starts gathering information against the company and seeking to argue the plaintiff's case instead. Soon enough his loose cannon behavior has the firm seriously worried, causing them to dispatch Clayton to reel him in.

It's true that much of what transpires in Michael Clayton feels a little familiar, maybe a little contrived. Much too much comes with the slight pinch of implausible, "only in a movie" dramatics. That being said, the execution here is flawless. Gilroy's as promising a talent to emerge as a director in the thriller genre since The Bourne Supremacy turned Paul Greengrass into a serious thrill ride visionary. Gilroy rises above cliche by creating dynamic, visually complex frames that play with perception and visibility. There's never been more chilling use of the old fashioned off screen sound gag. Gilroy very often settles the film into a calm pace just before unleashing the most dangerous perils. We watch Clooney calmly perusing documents only to be startled by the click of a cocked pistol emerging out of what seems like nowhere. Perspective and manipulation are constantly in the air which greatly suits the themes of the film and helps to intensify the sometimes ponderous plot.

It's also a great strength that Gilroy is finally coming out from behind his serviceable work as a wordsmith. Here he lets his imagination wander and comes up with some of the most rhythmic, intoxicating, and punchy dialogue in any recent thriller. He writes here without fear of being accused of pretentiousness, letting his full potential finally come to light. Together with the all around superb performances, Gilroy's talents raise what might have been just an ok thriller into something exciting and greatly enjoyable

Grade: B+

DVD of the Week: Reign Over Me

The celebrated Don Cheadle stars alongside the often overlooked (and usually rightfully so) Adam Sandler on loan from his slapstick mainstays for his second leap into dramatic material (the first being the brilliant P.T. Anderson tragicomedy Punch-Drunk Love) in Mike Binder's Reign Over Me, a funny and touching melodrama about the psychological meltdown of a man who lost his wife and children on 9/11 (Sandler) and the old friend who is trying save him from himself (Cheadle). Sandler’s Charlie Fineman is at once a jester and heartbreaker. There are moments when we forget his troubled past and his dangerous psychological illness only to be reminded of them shortly after by an explosion of his riveting despair. Cheadle’s character, Alan Johnson, is likewise a humble ringleader to the madness at the same as he is also a man of his own worries. The fullness of the story, which includes wonderfully small details of interaction between Charlie and the cast of other characters, leads to new events in Alan’s life as well. Everything unfolds with great efficacy and with a seemingly natural flow. Certainly, some things comes together a bit too nicely and there is perhaps a somewhat cinematic leniency taken toward the characters, but the integrity of the performances carry us over all of these hurdles.

Lust, Caution

Ang Lee’s Lust, Caution is a thriller of the highest order, art that truly entertains and engages while journeying its audience through the darkest realms of historical truth and exposing deep seeded secrets of the human psyche with every gripping and emotionally crushing new twist or turn. There’s really nothing more you could ask for from a film.

Newcomer Tang Wei gives one of film’s most beautiful and composed debut performances as Wang Jiazhi, a young woman who is recruited in China circa WWII to seduce a Japanese conspirator and organize his execution. She begins her mission as one of several young students who act on an urge to serve their country and end up getting in over their heads when they send Wang as an unofficial spy into the realm of Mr. Yee (Tony Leung) via a friendship with Mrs. Yee (Joan Chen). Once she has infiltrated the man’s life and become an object of his desire, she takes on a more official role as a vital player for actual government agencies in pursuit of the traitorous Yee. Soon enough the fun and games are over and Wang has fully committed herself, body and soul, to the cause of ensnaring Mr. Yee and luring him onto a stage set for his demise.

From start to finish the film is an intoxicating epic that marks a rare combination of psychological complexity and intense, edge of your seat narrative progression. The sheer sting of the conceptual circumstance at hand could shatter the complacency of the average thriller. Wang is a uniquely original protagonist with a gentle demeanor and a strength for summoning up necessary courage to effectively and repeatedly place herself at the mercy of a man she despises with every fiber of her being. The pain and confusion of her predicament as it stretches across many years of physical and moral compromise is absolutely staggering. And Ang Lee has never been surer or more deliberate with his content and pacing. It’s a carefully crafted film with a very deliberate tone and pace. It’s never dull but it’s certainly slow building. By the time it reaches its conclusion Lee has layered so much danger and emotional ambiguity into the narrative that each passing second pounds with the possibility of failure and potentially deadly consequences. He takes his time in saying what he wants to say but by the time he reaches his final, unbelievably perfect frame you’re bound to be bowled over by this masterpiece.

Grade: A

Feast Of Love

In Feast of Love a collection of romantically entwined individuals of various ages and stages in life explore love in as many aspects as possible in a single film. There’s the older couple in a sturdy relationship (Morgan Freeman and Jane Alexander), a new couple of young people just starting out (Alexa Davalos and Toby Hemingway), a man who just can’t seem the right woman (Greg Kinnear), and his former paramours embarking on two new relationships of their own (Selma Blair and Radha Mitchell). Adapted from a novel by Charles Baxter, Feast of Love is pure melodrama. It’s more sophisticated than you might expect but there’s really no denying that it specializes in mugging for the camera with doe eyes and sweet smiles. Though tragedy is no solution here. Its darkest moments are its weakest and most contrived. What works is middle of the road, unextraordinary relationship drama, the tender observation of small and truthful details about the lives of these characters. For the most part they are fully realized, smart, and likable individuals who are more than worthy of spending some time with. I just can’t say anything here will leave a lasting imprint or deeply affect a viewer. You’re likely to sympathize with the characters (particularly in the kinder and less manipulatively bleak moments) and there may even be a few tears by the end (it can be quite a weeper at times), but for a film about passion it’s unacceptably demure and complacent. We know the characters feel love because they say so (incessantly), but even though the cast excels at tugging on heart strings and the story chugs along nicely, no one will spend the end of 2007 thinking back on the indelible imprint left on them by Feast of Love. They might recall it being decently enjoyable having been reminded of its existence by a stocked DVD or rental poster. But nothing about the characters or the story truly leaps from the screen and into its audiences hearts, and those elements that do come close can be forgotten in an instant. The film simply sits there, lovely as could be, and as forgettable as vanilla ice cream. If you like melodrama and surrender to the idea that what you’re about to see will be no deeper or more excellent than the most common entries into that oft despised genre then I don’t imagine you’ll have a problem with this. If the thought of unnaturally articulate lovebirds summing up their emotions in neat prose for two hours straight makes you gag then I imagine you’d be better off staying away. What is undeniable either way is that Greg Kinnear could not be a more deserving leading man and should be used much more often in substantial roles like this one. He’s a force of nature dramedy gem that radiates a sense of honesty some of the more vacantly theatrical dialogue here lacks. And he’s certainly no less than matched in earnest by Morgan Freeman who gets playful with his tried and true tough old man with a wise heart bit. The two of them occasionally elevate the material here to great heights, but it’s safe to say this flick is far from revolutionary.

Grade: B

DVD of the Week: Civic Duty

Civic Duty is a dark, contemplative thriller that adapts the Rear Window concept into a post-9/11 paranoia parable. Peter Krause stars as Terry Allen, an out of work C.P.A. who begins to notice some strange behavior from the “Middle Eastern guy” who lives downstairs. His free time spent waiting for calls from potential employers gives him ample opportunity to become a full on voyeur, and his gradual transformation from average joe to self-appointed terrorist hunter is a twisted psychological evolution that’s fascinating to watch.

News: Hotel Chevalier

For anyone who has seen or plans to see The Darjeeling Limited, Wes Anderson has made available a short film entitled Hotel Chevalier depicting events referred to by characters in The Darjeeling Limited. The film can be perfectly understood without viewing this short prologue, but if you're a fan it's certainly worth seeing. Jason Schwartzman stars along with Natalie Portman (playing the ex of Schwartzman's character that's mentioned in Darjeeling and featured in a brief cameo). It can be found as a free download on iTunes or here: http://www.hotelchevalier.com/

The Darjeeling Limited

Who could blame Wes Anderson for sticking with what he knows? He's cultivated a unique style that's as specific to his work as that of the most iconic American comedy auteurs (few of which are still working today and even fewer of which have emerged from this generation). His neurotic soul searchers, fast random dialogue exchanges, and busy layered frames are unique to him. And most importantly, even in their most banal redundant incarnations, his ticks still outweigh a vast portion of the contemporary comedy landscape when it comes to out loud laughs and lasting endearment. You could pick at the consciously adorable quirks of The Darjeeling Limited all too easily, but if you're a fan of Anderson (and it's all but certain that The Life Aquatic separated the Tenenbaums joyriders from the die hards) you'll be spellbound and gleeful at the sight of him at work once more. The Darjeeling Limited may be the least of Anderson's accomplishments, but in a filmography as consistent and timeless as his, it's hard to live up to self-made standards. It's a slight treasure, but a treasure nonetheless with endearing characters, lavish absurdities, and wit to spare.

Owen Wilson plays the oldest, most domineering brother in a trio of dysfunctional siblings (Adrien Brody and Jason Schwartzman round out the brood) who embark on a journey to India for the purpose of soul-searching and self-meditation. Soon they're finding themselves lost literally and emotionally, in search of a cure for seemingly incurable ailments of the soul. They bicker and brawl in grandly idiotic fashion, splintering and rejoining more than once in the brief 90 minute feature. Obstacles emerge one after another. Some are funny. Some are tragic. There's really not much more to be said. The film is somewhat obvious, maybe a little uninventive in its mechanizations. The trick to Anderson's work has never been the plot, though. Here he takes a pretty standard "on the road" story and morphs it into a meticulously patterned character comedy that speaks as loudly and sweetly about the bittersweet nature of family and life itself as his previous, superior works.

Grade: B+