The Informant !

Steven Soderbergh's The Informant!, based on Kurt Eichenwald's non-fiction book of the same name, tells the story of ADM executive turned FBI informant Mark Whitacre (Matt Damon) who aided the bureau in an investigation of price fixing within his company. Soderbergh forgoes any and all suspense and instead treats the film as a comedy of errors in which the slightly offbeat everyman Whitacre makes one mistake after another during his foray into corporate espionage. Whether it's narrating his every move and encounter while wearing a wire ("Hello, Liz Taylor-- my secretary") or looking straight into a hidden camera during a top secret meeting, Whitacre proves himself ill-equipped for the task of being a spy. So much so that he manages to drive his FBI handlers (Scott Bakula and Joel McHale) to the brink of their respective sanities.

The film's plot doesn't end there but every good synopsis should. For those unfamiliar with the real-life events, the story doesn't turn out exactly how you'd expect. Whitacre proves a far richer character than a simple, surface only muckraker. He's tightly wound, under pressure, and slowly unraveling before our eyes. The smallest details, including the all too genius "fun fact" voice-overs by Damon which reveal Whitacre's rambling inner-self, pay off tenfold as surprising clues to a true nature not foreseen in the film's bubbly first half. Damon and Soderbergh together have crafted a fine portrait of "that guy" in such vivid, believable and yet utterly outlandish detail. It's not about the intrigue or the mystery. It's really all about this man. What makes him tick and what he is willing to do.

It's another fine, albeit slight, collaboration for the actor-star pair (their fifth) that gives surprising one-time only acting nominee at the Oscars, Damon, a crucial career role that further distinguishes him as one of the finest of his generation.

Grade: A-

R.I.P. Patrick Swayze

DVD Pick: State Of Play

Russell Crowe, Rachel McAdams, Helen Mirren, and Ben Affleck star in this nifty little political thriller adapted from the UK series of the same name. Affleck is the babyfaced politico at the center of a scandal over a deceased aide with whom he supposedly had an affair. Crowe is the old fashioned newspaper man with lax morals and connections that run deep. McAdams is the modern blogger he loves to hate. And Mirren is the stern paper exec who rules over them all. Cracking the mystery of the aide's murder and the underlying conspiracy that caused it will pull Crowe and McAdams together despite reservations and ultimately reveal a last minute twist that probably doesn't make sense but is satisfying enough for this well done B grade thrill ride.

Inglourious Basterds

Quentin Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds is not the film it has been advertised as, and in this case that’s a good thing. One likely enters the theater expecting three hours of Kill Bill style assassinations with Brad Pitt leading a pack of American soldiers whose sole purpose is to find and scalp Nazis. This is a portion of the film, but not the whole film. In fact, it’s a far smaller part of the film than anyone expected.

The real core of the narrative revolves around a Jewish survivor named Shosanna (Mélane Laurent) whose entire family was murdered at the hands of famed “Jew hunter” Hans Landa (Christoph Waltz). After eluding Landa years previously, Shosanna once again crosses paths with the man when her local cinema is made the sight of the world premiere of a Nazi propaganda flick which will draw together the elite of the Third Reich. Both Shosanna and the Basterds cook up plans to capitalize on the attraction as an opportunity to kill an optimal number of Nazi officers. The film is built around and leads up to the very night of this premiere.

More than anything, Basterds seems to be Tarantino’s most loving ode to the cinema. In many ways, the film feels less about WWII and more about the power, the legacy, and the immortality that film grants. Perhaps even its ability to rewrite history, however feebly. Basterds is steeped in cinema factoids that make it all the more charming if you happen to know who Leni Reifenstahl is, or that early film prints contained dangerous concentrations of nitrate. And if you know nothing, it offers a beautiful portrait of a bygone cinema era. Not to mention some of that trademark Tarantino wit and bloody intrigue. It’s a complicated blend that feels sharply tuned and rarely off the mark. Somehow all the murder and bloodshed feels sophisticated. It works toward a point, a final note that’s disturbing, manic, and altogether unforgettable.

What Tarantino has made is a film about film. One that meditates, in welcomed wild Tarantino fashion, on the power of film to immortalize the dead and massacre the living. A work that dares to make itself up as it goes along, pay homage to no truth but the one it aspires to, and simply invent an article of rich and dynamic vengeance fantasy to be savored with low delight and then studied with the high mind for its sheer ballsy dismissal of expectation.

The film is at every turn a surprise and needs to be seen to be discussed. So, see it already.

Grade: A