DVD of the Week: Rocket Science

Juno is brilliant. Even I thought so. But it did have a close rival last year for the smarter-than-your-average-teen-flick crown: Rocket Science. This stunning and painfully uncomfortable little indie dramedy from first time narrative director Jeffrey Blitz (best known for the Oscar nominated documentary Spellbound) does more than hold a candle to the classic teen films of all time. What it needs now most of all is a chance to extend its reach from the minds of cultists to the DVD players of friends and neighbors. It is a kind and heartwarming feature that is ideal to share and pass along with warm wishes. It’s not made up of all happy thoughts and good intentions, though. The story tells of an outsider with a stutter who is handpicked by the most popular girl on the debate team to be her personal protégé. His journey is a long and winding road of emotional discomfort and awkward maturation. Coming of age has never been this good. There’s honestly no film that better captures the cold grip of the adolescent experience and the weird, thrilling, tragedy that it brings to the expanding minds of young people. This is funny, delightful, and deeply moving stuff that should be honored as a minor masterpiece of moviemaking, particularly in such a thankless genre.

Trailers: Smart People

Professor Lawrence Wetherhold (Dennis Quaid) might be imperiously brilliant, monumentally self-possessed and an intellectual giant – but when it comes to solving the conundrums of love and family, he’s as downright flummoxed as the next guy. His teenaged daughter (Ellen Page) is an acid-tongued overachiever who follows all too closely in dad’s misery-loving footsteps, and his adopted, preposterously ne’er-do-well brother (Thomas Haden Church) has perfected the art of freeloading. A widower who can’t seem to find passion in anything anymore, not even the Victorian Literature in which he’s an expert, it seems Lawrence is sleepwalking through a very stunted middle age. When his brother shows up unexpectedly for an extended stay at just about the same time as he accidentally encounters his former student Janet (Sarah Jessica Parker), the circumstances cause him to stir from his deep, deep freeze, with often comical, sometimes heartbreaking, consequences for himself and everyone around him. In theaters April 11th, 2008. See the trailer here.

The Air I Breathe

That loud thud you hear in the background is the sound of this mercilessly dull pseudo-philosophical crime drama crashing and burning. In The Air I Breathe, first-time writer/director Jieho Lee manages to misuse and misdirect an entire ensemble of venerable pros (Forest Whitaker, Andy Garcia, Kevin Bacon, Emile Hirsch, Brendan Fraser, Sarah Michelle Gellar, and more) while simultaneously draining any and all fun that may have been had with this lame, pulpy mash up between the sensibilities of Altman and Tarantino (on a bad day, mind you) by butchering its cheeseball pleasures with long winded and utterly asinine philosophical musings. Rather than just savoring the simple pleasures of familiar tales of lone sharks, desperate men, and sinful deeds, Lee attempts to mold his film into a metaphor for an unexplained Chinese proverb that frames each of the four main characters in the light of one of several distinct principles: Happiness (Whitaker), Pleasure (Fraser), Sorrow (Gellar), and Love (Bacon).

The big picture idea is that none of these 4 emotions can exist without the other 3 and so too flow seamlessly through these characters just as these characters flow seamlessly through the vignette style film like fibers in a larger tapestry. The bad news here is that the tapestry sucks. Not one of the stories really connects. There are a few salvaging moments and some admirable attempts at sincerity by the talented cast (most notably Whitaker as an average joe turned humorously inept bank robber), but each story is so implausible and each thread that connects them is so painfully stretched into position, that every single second seems forced. Lee seems to have had admirable ambitions in creating a complex crime film that might stand apart from the sea of nondescript replicas out there, but unfortunately he'd be deluded to consider his finished product a standout in any way other than its simple, unforgivable lack of quality writing and directing. This is another one of those age-old tales of a first timer reaching for the stars and coming back empty handed. Perhaps Lee's imagination will take him to more interesting places in the future, but for now he's absolutely 0 for 1.

Grade: D

Trailers: The Life Before Her Eyes

Based on the best-selling novel by Laura Kasischke, The Life Before Her Eyes is a dramatic thriller about Diana (Oscar-nominee Uma Thurman), a suburban wife and mother who begins to question her seemingly perfect life--and perhaps her sanity--on the 15th anniversary of a tragic high school shooting that took the life of her best friend. In flashbacks, Diana is a vibrant high schooler (played by Evan Rachel Wood of Thirteen and Across the Universe) who, with her shy best friend Maureen, plot typical teenage strategies--cutting class, fantasizing about boys--and vow to leave their sleepy suburb at the first opportunity. The older Diana, however, is haunted by the increasingly strained relationship she had with Maureen as day of the school shooting approached. These memories disrupt the idyllic life she's now leading with her professor husband Paul and their young daughter Emma. As older Diana's life begins to unravel and younger Diana gets closer and closer to the fatal day, a deeper mystery slowly unravels. In theaters April 18, 2008. See the trailer here.

News: Academy Award Nominees

This year's Oscar picks are probably the best in many years. There are no nods that strike me as outrageously unjust and hardly any omissions that are truly infuriating. 3 of the 5 Best Picture nominees fell in my top 10 and the other 2 are still worthy features. I'm especially thrilled with the pack of screenplay contenders. I always say the best way to truly measure the best films of the year is to check out the Best Screenplay and Best Adapted Screenplay nominees. Unlike the overbearing, ad fueled Best Picture contest, the screenplay categories are least plagued by celebrity and most likely to reward more ambitious features. This year's pleasant screenplay surprises include Nancy Oliver for her boldly funny "Lars and the Real Girl," actress/writer/director Sarah Polley for her stunning breakthrough "Away from Her," and Tamara Jenkins for "The Savages" (also a nominee for Best Actress - Laura Linney, another brilliant surprise nod). Also getting their due: "There Will Be Blood," "Juno," "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly," and "No Country for Old Men." Biggest snub: "Once" getting nothing but a nod for Best Original Song. For the full list of nominees go here.

DVD of the Week: The Hunting Party

Writer/director Richard Shepard brings the same mix of wry humor and explosive entertainment to The Hunting Party that he brought to his breakout debut, The Matador. While most action-adventure films have gone stale with mundane cliche, Shepard's been churning out minor but altogether enjoyable thrillers of note. Based loosely on a true life expedition made by some ambitious journalists in a post-war Bosnia, The Hunting Party tells of a hilarious and surprisingly dangerous adventure taken by a washed up reporter (Richard Gere), his old pal camera man (Terence Howard), and a rookie with a desire to prove himself (Jesse Eisenberg). The trio accidentally gets mistaken for a CIA team (an error they fail to correct) and ends up deep in restricted territories, hunting Bosnian war criminals that the UN insists simply cannot be found. A sprinkling of political satire sits nicely atop this freewheeling and funny feature that offers audiences a chance to sit back and take an interesting journey into the unknown.

R.I.P. Heath Ledger

The ultra talented actor and father of Matilda, age 2, was found dead in his apartment earlier today. His death is being prematurely attributed to a drug overdose as sleeping pills were found with his body. Ledger most recently received acclaim and accolades for his stunning performances in Brokeback Mountain and I'm Not There. He will also be seen this Summer as The Joker in Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight, the highly anticipated sequel to Batman Begins.

Cassandra's Dream

Woody Allen has done just about everything in Cassandra’s Dream before. He may have even done it better in the past. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be fun the second time around. As recently as 2005 Allen was spinning a similar story about fate and desire with his wrongly acclaimed, dramatically inert Match Point. I shared little of the enthusiasm bestowed upon that film, other than a small amount of pleasure knowing that Allen was at least trying once again to make good films rather than dawdling in his own neuroses. I’m glad to say that Cassandra’s Dream, however simple and familiar it may be, suffers none of the woes that Match Point did. What read as a cold, pretentious detachment two years ago, plays as a winking playfulness here. Allen seems to like to play God in his dramatic works, guiding characters across destined events with a callous joy about their misfortunes. He leads them astray and then exacts his revenge as if the whole world’s justice could come to pass with his pen and his camera. But here, he strikes it rich with a little less self-righteousness and a little more self-awareness. When the devastatingly beautiful and tempting Angela (unknown Hayley Atwell making a stunning breakthrough) openly discusses the nature of a plays she’s been performing at a local theater as “moral” and “pessimistic,” the heavy handed self-reference goes far from unnoticed. Allen knows that none of this is new, but aims to please with small wonders. This isn’t a revolutionary film. The charm in this is just what a neatly packaged little present it is. If it’s at all conceivable to call a film about murder and death a delight, then this one would fit the bill. It balances dark doings with dry wit and turns out to be the most fully satisfying Allen film in years.

Adding to the solid formula are two superb performances by Ewan McGregor and Colin Farrell as two brothers from a working class family. The former is an ambitious and debonair business investor modeling himself after their affluent uncle Howard (Tom Wilkinson) and parading around in clothes and cars he can’t afford to impress the aforementioned Angela. The latter is a working man mechanic with a big heart and a strong conscience that will ultimately prove problematic. When the two get into a financial jam they call on their devoted uncle to help them out but discover that he has ulterior motives. To get the problem fixing cash, they need to murder a former employee who may having damning information on Howard’s company. With the proposition in place, the two brothers embark on a quest of self-discovery that will reveal to them in funny, emotional, and authentically suspenseful moments just how far they are willing to go. Farrell, in particular, is remarkable here, if not entirely for the simple fact that he’s made so few good films as of late. Having bottomed out as a “movie star” he’s building a welcomed new momentum as a legitimate actor in deep character roles.

Grade: B

Cloverfield

The blueprint for Cloverfield, brainchild of TV maestro turned blockbuster innovator J.J. Abrams, is relatively simple: Godzilla for the YouTube generation. The mission statement is clearest in one truly 21st century moment, heavily popularized by the film's ubiquitous and mysterious trailer, in which the decapitated head of the Statue of Liberty crash lands on a New York City street and all the witnesses handily whip out their cell phones to document the event. Documentation is the crux of this modern monster movie, penned by "Lost" scribe Drew Goddard and directed by "Felicity" co-creator Matt Reeves. It hinges on the novel idea of blending low tech photography with high tech special effects shots. The film itself is introduced as archival footage catalogued in a top secret government registry and discovered at "the area formerly known as Central Park." Conveniently, one very diligent pedestrian named Hud (T.J. Miller) feels a moral obligation to document this historical night of carnage with a personal camcorder. It so happens that the unfortunately named Hud has been tasked with collecting "testimonials" from friends at a big farewell party for his buddy Rob (Michael Stahl-David). When some "thing" hits New York, he decides to let the camera keep rolling for the future information of all people. "People are going to want to know how it went down," he says.

If there's a flaw here it's that the signature device of the film, shaky cam digital carnage, is as bold and rewarding as it can be limiting. The level of convenience and contrivance needed to explain why our ragtag group of protagonists would a) head toward and not away from the "thing" and b) be constantly right below or above it makes the narrative a bit questionable. It's also no help that the characters, though played with an efficient naturalism, don't particularly warm themselves to the audience. We meet them only briefly before the running and screaming begins, making our concern for them merely that of a desire not to see anybody torn to shreds, not specifically these people. The only one with any real personality is poor, out of sight Hud, who spits out one liners and self-aware commentary from behind our first person perspective.

That being said, Cloverfield is, for the most part, a rollicking success. The handheld camera work is no Blair Witch cop out. It works to the advantage of the film by giving us a front seat to the mayhem and disorienting us enough to convey the actual confusion of being at the center of a catastrophe. Rather than being omnipotent viewers, we're active participants, taking wrong turns and getting lost in the streets of New York. We see only what the characters see and know only what they know. This frees up the story from exposition and banal back story and instead lets us just bask in the scary, suspenseful ride. Reeves works the POV cam in the best possible ways, creating a constant chill of fear about what may be lurking in the off-screen space. The answers are often surprising and occasionally fatal.

The film is worth seeing for the simple fact that it is a true original (among other things). It may borrow bits and pieces from earlier works, but its delivery is unique and effective. At the very least, it's a fun experiment that turned out to be probably the best monster movie since The Host.

Grade: B+

My Top 10 of 2007

10. The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford

Part true life drama and part Americana fairytale, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford tells the story of the fabled Jesse James as a mixture of fact and fiction, wearing its heart on its sleeve as it tells of the many layers of his story and confesses that it may or may not always be telling truth, perhaps instead merely reinforcing James’ own myth. Brad Pitt gives what could be his finest performance as the renegade anti-hero James and Casey Affleck is even better as his obsessed fan turned enemy, Robert Ford. Director Andrew Dominik should be counted as one of the year’s best breakthrough directors given the subtle, sophisticated, and meticulous nature of his craft. He paints a portrait of James so deep in its own silence that it almost doesn’t require words to flesh out the character. The film also offers some of the most unforgettable visuals of any feature all year, including a sullen Pitt wrapped in serpents and an unshakable robbery scene lit exclusively by train light. This a masterpiece of melancholy that offers us a more quietly vicious portrait of the old west than any I’ve seen. It’s also as much enamored of folklore as it is dedicated to dispelling its half truths. Certainly, we’re meant to see the weaker side of James here, the softer inner life. And yet, the film never patronizes him, or creates an “alternate” version of him for record books. It works in and around the lines already written by history, filling the voids of humanity left barren by the gun toting, no nonsense imagery offered to us over the years. We see the man behind the myth and yet the myth remains.

9. The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

A man awakes in a hospital. He cries out for help, but nobody seems to hear. He watches as they sew up one of his eyes, demanding an explanation but hearing no response. As it turns out, he is not really speaking at all. He can’t speak. He has been paralyzed by a near fatal car crash and is experiencing “locked in” syndrome. All he can do is blink his one remaining eye. That is the opening of Julian Schnabel’s The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, an unforgettable film that’s more of an experience than an act of viewing. Filmed largely from the perspective of the immobile Jean-Dominique Bauby (played beautifully with minimal resources by Mathieu Amalric), the films traps us in his frustrated mind and then sets us free in the recesses of his imagination. Bauby’s internal thoughts, both deeply poignant and hilariously caustic, guide the film, which follows his life through the completion of his autobiography as dictated to an assistant through a system of eye blinks. It also chronicles the emotional impact of Bauby’s condition both on himself and his friends and family. In what could have been an overly dramatic pity piece, Schnabel and adapted screenplay scribe Ron Harwood find a biting and realistically grim voice that neither panders to the audience or demands their tears with connect the dots melodrama. Bauby’s body may be broken, but his spirit is alive and Schnabel captures this lively, delirious, energy in his soaring, affecting camera work. The films moves in ways Bauby never could and its language embodies his wild thoughts and feelings. This is a masterpiece of subjective filmmaking that expresses the internal nature of a character as well as any film I've ever seen.

8. No Country for Old Men

Joel & Ethan Coen made an auspicious return to form this year with No Country for Old Men, their first duly celebrated film since 1998’s Fargo. Javier Bardem gives the performance of a lifetime as Anton Shigurh, the surreally efficient and untraceable assassin who hunts down Josh Brolin’s raggedy local townsman on the run for nearly two hours straight without sparing us even one minute of spine tingling suspense. Tommy Lee Jones delivers the film’s gritty gravitas with a soulful performance as the local sheriff, who dutifully tries to protect those in danger, but never escapes the sinking feeling that the time for justice and bravery has passed. Really No Country is a brutal, bloody meditation on life and death in a soulless modern world. Shigurh is a walking totem of all that is evil and the way in which he navigates our world without hardly ever being slowed or wounded, speaks to the immortality of suffering as much as it does the badass attitude of his near invincible character. A two layered tome with pulsing violence and ample allegorical value, No Country for Old Men may be best celebrated as one of the few masterful films this year likely to endure in the mainstream consciousness of the American cinema

7. Control

With experimental biographic works such as I’m Not There and Persepolis providing bona fide renewal of faith in the biopic as a viable film genre, it may seem something of a surprise that my pick for the best all year is also perhaps the least adventurous: Control. Anton Corbijn’s unforgettable and movingly unsentimental analysis of the life of Joy Division singer Ian Curtis offers no great twist on the formula. It simply does right by the rules. And by “right,” I do not mean that it's complacent. I mean that it is the epitome of film biography. It does what every great biopic dreams of doing and it does so by the sheer talent of its cast and creative team. Corbijn’s past as a rock & roll photographer and music video director lends itself brilliantly to this devastating piece. Each frame is like a gorgeous black & white photograph. And better yet, the characters scurrying about within each photo are alive with an edge and an electricity that no amount of planning could provide. Sam Riley and Samantha Morton are explosive and unmissable here as Curtis and his on and off partner of many years respectively. They do justice to the staggering visuals by offering us stark, yet delicate performances that match their crisp surroundings in perfectly detailing a life in motion. There is mystery and ambiguity to the narrative, as Curtis lived one of those hard to describe lives that no one could ever really pin down, but what is on screen will be etched into your brain forever and what’s left out of sight and unexplained will only make this masterpiece further haunt your thoughts and dreams.

6. Zodiac

One of the best films of the year and one of the greatest American crime films of all time, David Fincher’s uber-meticulous investigation procedural Zodiac offers us a revelatory glimpse at his unforeseen skills at filmmaking swept clean of manic rapid editing and stylized photography. Fincher finds terror in the banal here, trading in Kevin Spacey’s fingerprint-less sociopath from Se7en for a more pragmatic, true life killer. Where Se7en’s goon set up fiendishly elaborate pranks, the killer in Zodiac, based on the still unsolved police case, executes his victims efficiently and bluntly. One of the most chilling scenes of the year occurs at a brightly lit, picturesque pond. We simply see a man in black walking leisurely toward two college kids sitting by the lake. We slowly discover he has a gun. And the rest is history. It’s that kind of uncommonly simple scene that makes Zodiac so bold and so different. Rather than exaggerating the events, Fincher stays perfectly on point with a fact based decoding of the many clues left behind by the enigmatic murderer who terrorized San Francisco. It’s his least showy and most effective directing job yet. It also boasts a star turn by Jake Gyllenhaal and wonderful supporting performances by Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey Jr., Chloe Sevigny, and John Carroll Lynch. Zodiac is a masterful mystery as well as a chilling study of one man’s overwhelming, unstoppable obsession, a subject that’s all too fitting for the famously finicky Fincher.

5. The Savages

The Savages is a note-perfect movie with pristine dramatic-comic performances from stars Phillip Seymour Hoffman and Laura Linney. As disgruntled siblings John and Wendy savage, the two phenomenal talents forge an unforgettable onscreen relationship that is bolstered by each one’s respective work of dramatic nuance and subtle wit. Linney is the self-defeating dreamer, who mostly just imagines the realization of her deepest wishes. Hoffman is a cold and callous scholar writing a commercially unwanted but personally significant book on the unemotional, all too similar, style of Brecht. They’re both stunned and dismayed upon learning that there father is ill and needs their assistance, a doubly thorny circumstance given how he abandoned them long ago. They both decide to be better people and treat him as best they know how. Their personal journey toward self-discovery coincides with his experience being tossed around hospitals and nursing homes. As he regresses into a self-reliant, near infant, they each expand their horizons and learn to finally mature into adults. Writer/director Tamara Jenkins solidifies herself as one of the of the top talents to watch with this darkly funny and painfully authentic tale of love, loss, and personal redemption.

4. Lars and the Real Girl

The simple fact that Lars and the Real Girl is best reported on as a pop culture punch line limited only to teasing about its seemingly racy but actually adorable premise, is a clear indicator that a) most people haven’t seen this film and b) the ones that have and still don’t get it are clearly dumb. There was nothing more winningly, wholesomely old-fashioned anywhere on an American movie screen all year. Though its general plot does involve a plastic sex doll and one very lonely gentleman named Lars (played fearlessly by Ryan Gosling with a complexity that even outshines his Oscar nominated turn in Half Nelson), the film actually has the spirit of the very best that Frank Capra every had to offer in his glory days. A small town rallies behind a nice guy in trouble and helps to save his waning life. Its sly kink may be modern, but its heart is timeless. Credit goes to Nancy Oliver who does wonders with her first produced feature script. She’s amazing at balancing the cunning wit of the film’s outrageous plot with drama so searing you almost forget what film you’re watching. Lars is not just a big joke. His condition is serious. Despite there being some inherent laughs in it, Oliver steers clear of milking it dry. She simply allows for both drama and comedy to emerge naturally from the brilliant framework she has sculpted. It’s also no small help that co-stars Emily Mortimer, Paul Schneider, Kelli Garner and Patricia Clarkson all tackle the film with the same momentous enthusiasm. It’s a contagious work of great spirit held together sweetly by able director Craig Gillespie and delivered like a care package post-dated from a more open-minded, and less censored alternate universe version of 1930s Hollywood.

3. Juno

The stars really aligned with this little movie. It could have gone down in history as that other movie about getting knocked up. Instead it pummeled the competition and emerged victorious as the most well-rounded, emotional satisfying, and side-splittingly funny comedy to crossover all year. Ellen Page, who showed promise in indie films like Hard Candy, comes into her own here as an admirable actress and full blown movie star. Her Juno, a tart-tongued sixteen year-old who accidentally gets pregnant after one unexplainable night with her best friend (Michael Cera), is likeably snippy and hysterically quick witted. She also has a bruised little heart showing just beneath the surface and a tender gaze that few teen flick bitches ever get to show. Page remarkably discovers a way to find the humanity in breakout screenwriter Diablo Cody’s walking, talking quip machine of a character. She even gives lines like “Hells yeah” and “I gotta bounce” just enough noncommittal, self-satirical distance to make them genuinely funny and uncheesy for the first time in…maybe ever. The film is also elevated by an ensemble of brilliant supporting players, including the aforementioned Cera, Jennifer Garner, Jason Bateman, J.K. Simmons, and Allison Janney. Each one of these actors turns their periphery character into a fully realized person of interest. They don’t just service the story neatly, but rather undergo their own little mini-arcs with the same great bittersweet humor Juno does. It’s a good sign for Cody’s future that she’s bright enough to paint even the littlest characters with enough color to make them jump off the page. And lest we forget Jason Reitman whose rising star has been mysteriously overshadowed by that of Cody and Page. Following the biting satire Thank You for Smoking with this sentimental, offbeat gem shows a range that should put Reitman on the shortlist of cool comedy directors in Hollywood (a list that’s only been getting shorter each year). The gentle mix of heart tugging and knee slapping here is undeniably charming. It’s a safe bet to say that Juno is the best comedy the year.

2. Once

With all due respect to Juno (my #3 pick), Fox Searchlight’s cultivation of its reputation as the “little movie that could” of 2007 seems like mostly myth to me. It’s had buzz in its blood since day one. The real surprise gem of the year and equally unexpected, albeit more modest, box office hit is Once, an Irish indie musical with no stars and an unknown director. Filmed on the streets of Dublin for very little money, it thrives off creative energy and raw talent. John Carney directs Glen Hansard of Irish rockers The Frames and singer/songwriter Marketa Irglova as a pair of musicians struggling to make a living and deal with their stagnant romances. Glen Hansard, known only as “The Guy,” works as a street musician and Hoover repair man. Marketa Irglova, “The Girl,” sells flowers and cleans houses. Both also happen to be brilliantly gifted musicians, if only they’d ever get the chance to prove it. Well, here they do. They meet casually on the street one day and connect in a rich duet of the beautiful song “Falling Slowly.” They continue sharing music with one another in unprecedented organic fashion. What emerges is a thoroughly modern musical for the age of DIY filmmaking and MySpace musicians. The songs are delicate, sparse compositions made from whatever means would be realistically available to these two characters. What carries the tunes to professional level is the obvious gifts of their makers. For anyone who still gags at over the top song and dance numbers, Once is a revolutionary film worth sampling. Never before has a musical been so truthful, so real, and so honestly passionate. The burgeoning emotions between the two main characters offers one of the most truly gripping “Will they or won’t they?” romances in many years, and the ultimate conclusion of their situation is as devastatingly authentic as everything that precedes it. Song and life go hand in hand here, with characters singing their hearts out while walking home on dark streets and sitting on buses with guitar in hand. And to describe its visual style as too simple, or underdone would be a crime. It’s filmed with lots of beautiful handheld work, and an occasional studio flourish. The final shot, utilizing a crane on a Dublin street, is as sweeping and, dare I say, epic as any flashy fellow musical could deliver. But what really makes this a masterpiece is its fragile heart which beats openly and honestly for 86 minutes before leaving you feeling like you’ve just experienced the same magical once in a lifetime connection that the characters did.

1. There Will Be Blood

There was no film this year more ambitious and perfectly realized than Paul Thomas Anderson’s There Will Be Blood. It really is that clear and simple. Film number five from the oft-critiqued and equally heralded auteur may not only be his greatest masterpiece, but also the one that finally silences his vocal detractors. I’ve been a diehard fan of Anderson’s early work for years and to witness There Will Be Blood was both a joy and vindication for me. Film fanatics have never been able to decide if Anderson was making brilliant films, or merely demonstrating brilliance in indulgent follies. Imagery of a mad genius tinkering with toys was often evoked. I, personally, adore everything from Hard Eight to Punch-Drunk Love without exception. Anderson, for my money, is the most imaginative mastermind of his generation and one of the most exciting talents in the contemporary film landscape. For There Will Be Blood he stripped himself of most of his trademarks and found proper uses for those he simply could not spare. Sure there are shots that carry on over many different locales and for many more minutes than necessary, but they feel more expansive when used in desert landscapes instead of the close quarters of apartment buildings and TV studios. Sure the characters can be weirdly emotional and even stark raving mad at times, but in this life and death opera of oil trade and hellfire, there could be no more appropriately dangerous and invigorating chord to strike. Every folly in the Anderson filmography has found its rightful place in this masterwork. And as dearly as I admire composer Jon Brion, who realistically should have at least two Academy Awards by now, the decision to drop his whimsical retro-pop score in favor of a dissonant, shredding soundtrack courtesy of Radiohead’s Jonny Greenwood could not be more ideal for this film. A triumphant cast led by the incendiary Daniel Day-Lewis and all too underrated Paul Dano help Anderson carry this film into the stratosphere of America’s greatest epic works. It begins with Daniel Plainview (Day-Lewis) as a lowly gold scavenger in the late 19th century and follows his journey to prosperity though the mining of oil, a substance whose devil black, blood thick appearance marks him before he even gets to speak his first line (that is, of course, 17 minutes into the justifiably oversized film). His pursuits lead him to a small town where hardly any crops grow and the only solace anyone can find comes from the leadership of the local preacher Eli Sunday (Dano). The honesty of Sunday’s supposedly prophetic ministry remains ambiguous but his showmanship is undeniable. He has the town under a spell and Plainview’s arrival only serves to threaten his hold over his flock. The two power hungry men butt heads in a not too clearly drawn battle of good vs. evil that contests villainy on both sides. What is certain is that Sunday represents the folky older roots of America and Plainview is the deathly shallow messenger for future industrialization. He rapes the town of its culture, blinds its citizens with offers of financial gain, and eases their spirits with the illusion that he is really an honest and decent man (a charade aided by his adorable son, who is actually the orphaned child of a workman who died in one of Plainview’s mining shafts many years ago). Plainview is a slick, fast talking oil man, and very nearly pure evil. The film is a close reading of his maniacal character and a chronicle of his utter annihilation of old-fashioned idealism. He spreads his cynical sickness throughout the town and obliterates its past identity as completely as one could possibly imagine. It is the birth of cold-hearted American business as described through the life of one ruthless gentleman.

The Bucket List

The Bucket List is a lifeless, mawkish melodrama barely brightened feeble attempts at caustic wit. Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman are likable and capable as ever in their respective roles, which embody, almost comically, the typical characters each has been known to play. Freeman is the dignified, wise gentleman. Nicholson is the ruthless, smart-alecky live wire. Together they pull off something resembling charm but the film they inhabit is so morose and coldly calculated that even these two fine actors cannot light a spark within it.

After receiving an estimated life expectancy of less than one year, Ed and Carter (Nicholson and Freeman respectively) embark on a wild, international journey to cross off items on their “bucket list,” a rundown of things they’d like to do before the “kick the bucket.” They go sky diving, chase lions, see the pyramids, and in between they make blandly sentimental speeches about the nature of life and death. Neither character seems remotely real, or invites us into the illusion of storytelling in the very least. Everything is done with such clear, tear jerking intentions that it feels more like an executed formula than a true film. The movie's sentimental side is awkwardly deliberate, giving it nothing more than an ugly and embarrassing sense of falseness. The gags fall flat, the serious dialogue is overwritten, and the few sweet moments in between get very quickly lost in the monotonous shuffle.

The dark humor and subtle tragedy of a life in its final years was captured beautifully last year in the little seen dramatic-comedy Venus starring Peter O’Toole. This far more trite and unremarkable retread of similar territory (minus the predatory sexuality) sinks so fast it’s sometimes hard to watch. Nicholson and Freeman struggle admirably and the film does give its best shot at conveying a kind, world-weary sentimentality, but ultimately the thin bond between Ed and Carter never really seems honest and therefore is never moving. It’s a stale little feel-good film that’s not likely to make anyone feel good, only bored and agitated.

Grade: D

DVD of the Week: Sunshine

Danny Boyle, director of cult classics Trainspotting and 28 Day Later, has added yet another masterful yet widely overlooked film to his increasingly more impressive filmography. Sunshine stars Cillian Murphy, Rose Byrne, Chris Evans, and Michelle Yeoh as members of a future space mission designed to reignite the dying sun before earth slips into a second ice age and humanity is utterly obliterated. The journey is tumultuous, suspenseful, surprising, and emotionally gripping. In much the same way 28 Days Later ripped the rug out from under the zombie flick prototype, Sunshine invites sci-fi fans to forget the rules and engage in an unpredictable and genuinely powerful story that gives greater focus than most genre films to the stunning feat of being a real human being in such a dramatically strange circumstance. It all builds to one of the most visually stunning and unforgettable conclusions I've seen in any film this year. This is a film for which "word of mouth" is essential and already long overdue.

Persepolis

Marjane Satrapi tells her own life story in a highly creative and spirited fashion through Persepolis, which she adapted from her own autobiographic graphic novel and co-directed with Vincent Paronnaud. Satrapi has a fascinating life story that begins in Iran at the time of revolution and proceeds through the war with Iraq and up until she must finally come to grips with the "new Iran," a far more repressive entity than her wily spirit will tolerate. Ultimately, she can no longer compromise herself by living in a nation that demands her to cover her head and shun all vices. She escapes to France, and goes on to make this beautiful little film.

What's remarkable about this movie is the snarky, cynical yet inescapably emotional tone it takes. Marjane Satrapi, as both a character here and a director at the helm, offers us a prickly sense of humor that if unafraid to joke and tease about the kind of life and death subjects that prestigious Oscar winning features are made of. She doesn't dwell melodramatically in the dark depths of war, but rather steps constantly forward, portraying a resilience and a humanity that is refreshingly true. She remind us that crisis does not wash away all personality by behaving mostly peeved about the great tragedies at her feet. If there is a scene stealer here it is Marjane's beloved grandmother who delivers whisky soaked one-liners with hilarious ease. And yet, this is also a very poignant film. It is about a specific moment in time and yet it is a far greater tome on the notion of identity - personal, political, and national. Satrapi's family has numerous ties to early resistance efforts and several friends and neighbors fall victim to the battles at hand. In Satrapi's world, people argue fiercely about which one had the relative who was most brutally tortured, allowing for moments of funny self-interest that beget darker emotions about the realities of political upheaval.

This is a film of great power and warm humor. It is self-aware, unpretentious and yet stunningly smart and sophisticated. Satrapi has molded a wonderful personal memoir and coming of age drama that should be admired for its unique approach and its breathtaking cleverness.

Grade: B+

The Orphanage

The Orphanage is an eerie Spanish ghost story that is entirely, and quite enjoyably unlike the bulk of modern American horror films. This chilling and surprisingly emotional little haunted house import delivers a far more satisfying trip into the realm of the supernatural than any half-baked remake of a Japanese thriller. And it certainly beats the pants off of the unscary and entirely laughable antics of torture porn films such as Saw and Hostel. The terror is subtle. The imagery is ghastly yet starkly beautiful. It is not a "horror film" as much as a wondrous feature film that happens to include elements of fantasy and suspense. Think a lesser, more juvenile fixated The Shining or Pan's Labyrinth with ghosts instead of mythological beasts.

The story develops slowly and steadily, as do the impossibly discomforting twists and turns. To summarize would be something of a crime against the meticulously plotted tale of betrayal and violence that serves as catalyst here. What is safe to say is that the central story revolves around a woman named Laura (Belén Rueda) who returns to the orphanage that was once her home to start a home for children with special needs. She comes with her husband, Carlos, (Fernando Cayo) and their precocious son, Simón, (Roger Príncep) whose "special friends," assumed by Carlos and Laura to be imaginary, are deeply linked to the dark torture the family will endure throughout the course of the film.

As ghostly and mysterious as the film may be, it never loses sight of a perfectly compelling sense of humanity. Its character's are neither withering flowers nor domineering, fearless action hero types. You can believe Laura in her every decision, both realistic and other worldly. Better yet, the ghosts that haunt the orphanage are equally believable in their own ways. The film doesn't paint the picture of ghosts that are necessarily malicious, but rather wild in their own innocently evil way. Like children left to their own devices, they play and scheme in ways that can be horrifying and lethal, but almost always unintentional. They also manifest calmly and coolly in selected frames without the idiotic Hollywood invention of transparent CGI hovering. They are tangible leftovers from a truly tragic past event that will also force Laura to come to terms with her past life.

Grade: A-

Starting Out In The Evening

Leonard Schiller is a truly tragic creature: a writer who has lost his voice. In Starting Out In The Evening, we meet his as a godly creature who reduces the composed, grad school chic biographer Heather Woolfe to a near puddle. But when we last see him, he has been broken and his swooning admirer has come to discover his embarrassing humanity, the kind of poor decision making and unoriginally ordinary struggles with old age and self-identity that would be unfit material for the masterworks of his own, once grand, literary career. Woolfe, an exceptional fan of the out of print writer who only really values his earlier work, wants desperately to use Schiller's personal life and published novels as the basis for her master's thesis. He declines, but rescinds when the brutal truth of his obscurity sinks in. It also does not hurt the situation that Heather intimated to him in her plea that a romantic connection is not entirely out of the question. Their mutually played game of passion, dismay and respect, as portrayed with incomparable candor by Frank Langella and Lauren Ambrose respectively, comprises the bulk of this refreshingly smart, small, and honest drama.

Visually director Andrew Wagner gives us the best of both worlds by combining the close range intensity of digital camera work with the splendor of New York City nightscapes. He arrives at a happy medium between shaky, indie cam and big budget elegance. His film is both stunning and powerfully intimate with its characters and surroundings. New York is itself a strong character in the film, which uses many real locations in interesting ways.

But beyond the radiant images resides the beating pulse of literate but not precariously self-aware dialogue that is some of the best heard in any film of 07. The adapted screenplay by Fred Parnes is fiercely intelligent, filled with details - ranging from impressive literature tidbits to perfectly composed personal confessions - that demonstrate the conversational prowess of its many brazen characters without stumbling over its own brilliance, or theirs. It says what it needs to say, wonderfully and honestly without over-complicating or over-simplifying a single line. Langella humbly delivers lines such as "Freedom isn't the choice the world encourages. You have to wear a suit of armor to defend it." with all the precise world weariness that is needed to make it passionately believable but with none of the dramatic flourishes that would infer to you that it was a quote meant to be applauded or savored as brilliant.

This is the kind of little film that speaks its language so easily, you cease to worry about its direction or the quality of its creation and simply live it out until the end, when in equally humble fashion Langella shapes, in total silence, the future life of Leonard Schiller as though it were truly and unotably a part of the fabric of one man's journey toward something bigger, one small and unremarkable step at a time. God is truly in the details here, and the quick-witted, honest style the film takes on is blessedly never too cutesy clever or infatuously "real." It may be remembered as a minor gem, but its powers of crisp and insightful narration should not go overlooked.

Grade: A

The Great Debaters

Denzel Washington's second feature as a director, The Great Debaters, is just about as warm, likable, uneven, and treacly as his almost well-received debut, Antwone Fisher. Both films deal modestly with tragedy and cue the strings for moments of triumph against odds. For some, both films will come across as potent, positive thinking, winners but there is such a thing as too much positivity and despite the many successes of The Great Debaters, its warmed over dramatics and unfocused narrative leave something to be desired. This time he's telling the inspiring tale of a real life African American debate team from a small college in 1935 that overcame social restrictions and personal dilemmas to achieve greatness in the national debate circuit, including several competitions that pitted them against the white colleges of the day.

A trio of talented on the rise actors portray the central team members with great skill and effervescence. Nate Parker is the charismatic but unreliable team leader, Henry Lowe, who has a passion for the seedy elements of society and a tendency to get himself into trouble. Jurnee Smollett is extremely charming as the determined and forthright, Samantha Booke, who seeks to make history as both an African American debater and a female in a male dominated field. And lastly, Denzel Whitaker is a perky, slightly goofy delight as James Farmer, the youngest and most openly emotional and optimistic of the contenders who is also competing with the high standards of his brilliant father (the like-named but unrelated Forest Whitaker). Denzel Washington also stars in the film as the debate team's coach, Mr. Tolson, an unconventional professor who takes an aggressive stance with his students and enforces the philosophy that words are weapons to be handled carefully and wielded dangerously. His other efforts in unionizing the local farmers and farmhands are also chronicled, mostly in mundane and tediously off course detail. Where The Great Debaters loses its steam is in its dalliances. While trying to be a comfortable yet assertive text it muddles any sort of political message it may have delivered. The film works best as a high-functioning formula vehicle that inspires when it's supposed to and leaves the enjoyable feeling of sweeping achievement sitting in your stomach. Its badly painted personal trials, including Tolson being accused of communist sympathies, James' father issues, and Samantha and Henry's ill-fated and uninteresting flirtation with romance, all stop the film's central narrative from truly catching fire. The central beat of the film is in constant conflict with these busy and unwelcome trangeants that cause it to falter much too often to really call it a satisfying film, but it is mostly solid and splendidly complacent in all the best ways. When it's in its element, it plays triumphantly, but elsewhere it sags and makes you impatient for the inevitable happy ending.

Grade: B-