Film Round-Up for September: "Morning," "Una Noche," "Short Term 12," "I Give It a Year"

Brie Larson (left), future Oscar nominee.

Reprinted with permission from ICON, here's an eclectic collection of reviews. The reason? Well, August and early September is a time when the new releases go on. Next month should be more promising.

"Short Term 12" was excellent. I'm rooting super-hard for Brie Larson.

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Morning (Dir: Leland Orser). Starring: Jeanne Tripplehorn, Leland Orser, Laura Linney, Elliott Gould, Kyle Chandler, Jason Ritter, Gina Morelli. A married couple (real-life husband and wife Orser and Tripplehorn) can’t cope with the death of their young son. Over the course of several days away from each other their lives unravel. He reverts to the behavior of a child, playing with toy trains and eating Spaghetti-Os. She walks around like an anesthetized soul in a Swedish film, alternately zoning out or lashing out at those who try to comfort her. Orser, who also wrote and directed, has a good story and a knack for telling it through images. (The opening shots of the house—eerily quiet and unsettling—set the tone.) It’s a shame that Morning doesn’t have a narrative base to support its two main characters, so Orser and Tripplehorn (who is, to put it nicely, over her head here) come across as wailing theatrically instead of expressing their characters’ anguish. The way Morning is constructed we care more about the supporting characters than the leading one. Another crippling issue: a crucial plot point will make you wish Orser had used that as the script’s thrust. [R] **

Una Noche (Dir: Lucy Mulloy). Starring: Dariel Arrechaga, Anailín de la Rúa de la Torre, Javier Núñez Florián. Best friends Raul (Arrechaga) and Elio (Florián) long to leave the sweltering despair of Havana, where, according to Raul, all you can do is “sweat and fuck.” Salvation lies in Miami, 90 miles across the ocean, and in a barge constructed from wooden planks, inner tubes, and a prayer. Mulloy paints modern-day Havana as a pitiless pit of poverty and decadence, so you know exactly why the boys want to leave. But that doesn’t mean they should. Elio is in love with unaware ladies’ man Raul, who believes his long-estranged father will be thrilled to reunite. And Elio’s clingy twin sister (de la Rúa de la Torre) wants in because she cannot bear to be away from her brother. So many movies tell immigration stories that serve as triumphs of the human spirit. Mulloy shows that the desire to leave can be fueled by delusions. Just because the mission is noble and right, there’s no guarantee the participants will succeed. You are invested in Una Noche because its characters never stop battling against their fate. Filmed on location in Havana on 35 mm film. Inspired by a true story. [NR] ***1/2

Short Term 12 (Dir: Destin Cretton). Starring: Brie Larson, John Gallagher Jr., Kaitlyn Dever, Keith Stanfield. Quick-witted and no-nonsense, Grace (Larson) effectively supervises a halfway house for troubled youths. Her personal life is a different story. She’s in a serious relationship with her co-worker, Mason (The Newsroom’s Gallagher Jr.), who clearly loves her. That’s not enough. Grace’s unfortunate past prevents her from opening up, while a recent development forces her further inward. Throw in the arrival of a new charge (Dever), who reminds Grace too much of her own troubled childhood, and Grace’s carefully constructed equilibrium threatens to shatter. Larson (21 Jump Street, The Spectacular Now) is fantastic in a star-making turn—she is dramatically compelling while remaining fragile and human-sized—but she’s surrounded by fantastic performances, including Stanfield as an 18-year-old resident who is afraid to leave the only loving environment he’s ever known. Directed and written with assurance and heart by Cretton, this might be one of 2013’s best films when all is said and done. [R] ****

I Give It a Year (Dir: Dan Mazer). Starring: Rose Byrne, Rafe Spall, Anna Faris, Simon Baker, Stephen Merchant, Minnie Driver, Jason Flemyng. Business executive Nat (Byrne) and novelist Josh (Spall) had a whirlwind courtship. Now closing in on a year of marriage, the two cannot stand each other. And more appealing options have emerged. Nat is enchanted with her client (Simon Baker), a rich American who is also handsome and intelligent. Josh, for reasons never made entirely clear, gravitates toward his ex-girlfriend (Faris). Everyone knows who should end up with whom, but director-writer Mazer’s idea of originality is to overstuff his frantic affair with “inappropriate” humor. So we have to endure Faris getting tangled in a threesome, stuffy parents viewing risqué honeymoon photos, and a marriage therapist shouting at her husband David Mamet style. This bombardment can’t hide a glaring omission: Mazer, a longtime collaborator with Sacha Baron Cohen, forgets that a romantic comedy—even a spoof of one—must feature people we actually have some affection for. Even the wonderful Byrne can’t help much this time around. [R] **

The Big Review: "Lee Daniels' The Butler"

Standing in the shadows of history.

Oh yeah, this will get a ton of Oscar nominations--though I won't care if that happens since it's quite good. Sorry for the tardiness of the review. It's been obnoxiously busy around these parts. 

This review previously appeared in ICON and is reprinted with permission.

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Making a crowd-pleasing historical film isn’t that hard. Making a good one is damn near impossible because it’s so tempting (and easy) to cater to the lowest common denominator. Just show stock footage that reminds us of more challenging times, making sure to reveal the sentimental spot in that historical briar patch. This is usually done by having a character comment about “how those days were so, so tough.” And highlight the fashion and music of the good old days, because nostalgia is the cement that holds the rickety structure together.

Lee Daniels’ The Butler, based on a 2008 Washington Post profile, never chokes us with its historical swoop—interactions with presidents, various social movements, and oh so many hairdos. Daniels and screenwriter Danny Strong are more concerned with telling a good story about a father and son divided—and later reunited—by history.

Growing up on a Georgia cotton farm in the 1920s, Cecil Gaines saw his father shot to death by a white man. Young Cecil’s reward was that he was taught to be a “house nigger” or butler, a skill he took to a fancy hotel in Washington, D.C. and ultimately to the White House, where, according to the movie, he served presidents Eisenhower through Reagan.  

Along the way, Cecil achieved a comfortable middle-class lifestyle, complete with a wife (Oprah Winfrey) and kids, which was miles away from the cotton fields. In 1957, this is a dream life for most, especially African-Americans. Times are changing. Older son Louis (David Oyelowo) looks at the world differently. As a butler, Cecil is taught that “the room should feel empty when you’re in it.” Louis is tired of living life as an invisible man, forced to stay on one side of the line. He leaves for college in Tennessee fully intending to fight the power. 

Years pass. Cecil (played in his adult years by Forest Whitaker) continues to serve in the White House while Louis looks to forge a new identity, taking up the cause of the Freedom Riders, Malcolm X, and Martin Luther King, Jr. Father and son grow further apart, even though each is making progress. Cecil is there for the Voting Rights Act; Louis holds vigil at Woolworth’s lunch counter and faces the unforgiving blast of fire hoses.

Louis thinks he knows everything, dismissing his father’s job—one that gives a black man dignity in a world where it’s hard to come by—as the career of an Uncle Tom. The young man expresses his views from a distance and without context, not realizing that Cecil’s hard work has allowed him the ability to protest. And Cecil, committed to a lifestyle of being neither seen nor heard, doesn’t realize that the acts of kids like Louis are why presidents are passing legislation to make things equal.

There is no Forrest Gump-like gimmickry. Remove the high-profile presidential cameos from Lee Daniels’ The Butler and you still have a searing family drama. I never thought I’d say this about Daniels, a director whose best-known work is either exploitative (The Paperboy) or an urban poor burlesque (Precious: Based on the Novel “Push” by Sapphire) but he’s finally learned to hold back. Instead of trafficking in schlock, he builds his scenes, taking the time to draw out characters in living rooms and front porches. The conversations feel real, not like historical footnotes. We always return to two men making their way in an unforgiving world: one by working twice as hard for half the pay, and the other by any means necessary.

The performances are lived-in, realistic, and keep you involved. Whitaker plays the lead role as a kind man navigating constant hurt, not as an observer to change. Terrence Howard is all oily charm as Cecil’s tomcatting neighbor, and it’s so nice to see Cuba Gooding Jr. find his swagger. Winfrey sheds her entitled air to play a woman whose increasing distance from her husband and her son cause her to drift into booze and questionable decisions. Her unraveling is treated as part of a family’s evolving history. Sometimes things are good, sometimes things turn bad. If we stick together, it’ll all be just fine.  

I think that’s why people have already flocked to see Lee Daniels’ The Butler. We need a reminder that we’re living our lives the right way, that what happened in the past led us to better times. People want their souls fed, and Daniels and Strong have offered a heaping plate of comfort food, a lovely, lyrical film that focuses on people, not pomp. 

Note (10/1/13)--It's come to my attention that Cecil Gaines is not the actual name of the butler profiled in The Washington Post story. It's Eugene Allen. My apologies for any confusion.

On Zander Hollander and the New York Times

This was an unbelievable experience. I grew up reading Zander's Complete Handbooks, so to shake hands with the man who defined a large part of my childhood was meaningful. It really was like shaking hands with my childhood. Also, the Times was a constant presence in my family's house, which makes this story even more bittersweet.

Click here to read the story.

Then to talk to such wonderful people: his wife, Phyllis (a woman of bottomless warmth), his daughter, Susan, and Eric Compton, a longtime collaborator. What a treat. Plus, the reaction over the last week has been, to use a rather ineloquent word, awesome. People have flooded Phyllis and Susan with phone calls and emails, shared memories in the comments section, and showed their appreciation for a sportswriting legend.

To be part of this is a reminder of why I love to tell stories: it's an opportunity to celebrate the past as we soullessly march toward the future. I'm looking forward to doing this again and again.

Rose Darling, My Friend

I had a nice chat with Rose Byrne a couple of weeks ago for Film Racket, which the peerless Matt Zoller Seitz was gracious enough to link on RogerEbert.com. 

And, yes, she was positively charming. Great, hearty laugh. It's easy to see why so many guys love her. When I told friends and acquaintances that I was interviewing the Bridesmaids star, they were really interested. Marriage proposals were bandied, wives were discarded. I felt like a geeky freshman interviewing the prom queen. 

So, yeah, sometimes this job is pretty fun. 

The Film Round-Up, August 2013: "Drinking Buddies," "Prince Avalanche," "Lovelace," "The Spectacular Now"

These are the days! These are the party days!

In this edition of the Film Round-Up: Lovelace blows, a movie where Olivia Wilde gets to act like a human being, David Gordon Green's indie return, and Shailene Woodley gives the performance of her young life.

These reviews appeared in the August issue of ICON and are reprinted with permission.

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Drinking Buddies (Dir: Joe Swanberg). Starring: Olivia Wilde, Jake Johnson, Anna Kendrick, Ron Livingston. Kate (Wilde, never better) and Luke (Johnson) are co-workers at a Chicago brewery, though they’re really more of a work couple. So, why can’t they make the transition to dating? Well, Luke is attached to Jill (Kendrick), a sweet schoolteacher, while Kate is seeing Chris (Livingston), an older music producer who doesn’t appear to be an ideal fit for the freewheeling, let’s-close-down-the-bar Kate. When her relationship ends, it seems inevitable that Kate and Luke would immediately start sharing a toothbrush. Not so. Swanberg’s smart, unhurried drama reveals that such a situation is not something two people can just segue into. First come the half-gestures, unspoken words, and the feelings of others. And there’s the chance that you might not be relationship material: Luke approaches Jill’s talk of marriage like a kid forced to eat his vegetables. Some may hate the film’s open-endedness, but I think that’s what makes it so refreshing. Regardless, it’s nice to see a director finally take advantage of Wilde’s bottomless charisma. [R] ***1/2

Prince Avalanche (Dir: David Gordon Green). Starring: Paul Rudd, Emile Hirsch, Lance LeGault. In desolate central Texas, two state workers spend the summer of 1988 painting miles of lines on an anonymous stretch of highway surrounded by fire-damaged forest. Alvin (Rudd), disciplined and serious, looks at the time as an opportunity to reflect and improve himself, two things that will surely help matters with his girlfriend. Alvin’s colleague, his beloved’s oafish brother, Lance (Hirsch), is more concerned about getting laid, a tough prospect in the middle of nowhere. As the days trudge by, both men’s flaws and strengths emerge, a pleasant surprise in this offbeat comedy-drama from Green (All the Real Girls, Pineapple Express). The writer-director explores the philosophical quirkiness of the situation—Alvin pretends to play house among the charred ruins; an old-timer truck driver (LeGault) pops up with booze and (maybe) a female passenger—but it’s never at the expense of these two misguided souls who are forced to confront themselves. Hirsch and Rudd, as you would expect, are excellent. The disappointment Hirsch expresses in recapping his version of a lost weekend is a highlight. Based on the 2011 Icelandic film Either Way. [R] ***

Lovelace (Dirs: Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman). Starring: Amanda Seyfried, Peter Sarsgaard, Sharon Stone, Robert Patrick, Chris Noth, Bobby Cannavale, Hank Azaria, Debi Mazar, Juno Temple, James Franco, Wes Bentley, Adam Brody.  Biopic examines the tumultuous life of Linda Lovelace (1949-2002), who became a national sensation thanks to her work in the insanely popular mainstream porno, Deep Throat (1972). As her fame grew, Lovelace’s svengali husband Chuck Traynor (Sarsgaard) turned possessive and abusive, even forcing the surprise starlet into prostitution. Actresses such as Malin Akerman have clamored to play Lovelace, though it’s hard to see why in this uneven slog. Epstein and Friedman foolishly divide Lovelace’s life into two halves, a happy version and an unhappy version. Neither segment portrays Lovelace as more than a little girl lost or a punching bag for the psychotic Traynor, so Sarsgaard’s terrifying performance is out of place with the film’s skin-deep approach. Seyfried does what she can with the simplified material, but there’s nothing she can do. The movie can’t decide whether it wants to be a campy reflection of a hedonistic time or a movie-of-the-week with nudity. Nobody—the actors, the audience—is winning that battle. Stone, in a strong supporting role, is unrecognizable as Lovelace’s perpetually defeated mother. Also available on demand starting 8/9. [R] *1/2

The Spectacular Now (Dir: James Ponsoldt). Starring: Miles Teller, Shailene Woodley, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Kyle Chandler, Brie Larson, Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Bob Odenkirk. High school senior Sutter Keely (Teller, Rabbit Hole) is perfectly content with his life as the good-time guy—charming, forever buzzed, and always ready for a party. After an especially boozy night, classmate Aimee Finicky (Woodley, The Descendants) discovers Sutter passed out on her lawn and helps him out. As they spend more time together, he charitably (in his mind) steers the friendship toward romance. When Sutter actually falls in love, he’s faced with a choice as graduation approaches: grow up or let the ambitious and mature Aimee move on without him. This ripe ode to young love is refreshingly nuanced and mature; Ponsoldt (Smashed) forces nothing. Teller and Woodley’s superb work take the movie someplace special. He captures the big heart and wounded soul behind Sutter’s party-boy façade; she embodies every cute, unjustly overlooked high school girl whose depth and warmth will distinguish her from the pack in 10 years. If you’re a guy with some mileage, Woodley will remind you of five girls you failed to appreciate back then; Teller will make you wish you knew then what you know now. The personal nostalgia of The Spectacular Now is painful, sweet, and nearly palpable. I loved this movie. [R] ****

The Big Review: "Blue Jasmine"

Not pictured, a streetcar or a lady selling roses. 

A sweet and sad movie, and a fine effort from Allen. Cate Blanchett should get some consideration come Oscar time. (And, yes, I heard that Ellen DeGeneres is hosting this year. She's perfectly agreeable, but she's not dynamic me to watch genuinely or loathsome enough to hate-watch.)

Anyway, this review appeared in August's ICON and is reprinted with permission.

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A common complaint about Woody Allen is that his films profile a certain type of New Yorker: the urban dandy who wears a sports jacket to dinner and never has a roommate. These characters walk in rarified air—or take a cab if the weather is too chilly.

Blue Jasmine’s title character (Cate Blanchett) is an extreme example, a toned-down Queen of Versailles who considers Pilates and yoga part of her busy schedule and hosting a marketable skill. Such a high society nitwit begs for derision. Allen doesn’t go for the easy target. In his mind, Jasmine is permanently adrift. Thanks to the director’s compassion and Blanchett’s splendid performance, Blue Jasmine breaks our hearts instead of filling them with malevolent glee. And it’s a better, more substantial movie because of it.  

Jasmine, who has taken to talking to herself, is hanging by a thread when her plane lands in San Francisco. Her late husband (Alec Baldwin, whom we see in flashbacks) lost their fortune after being busted for a series of shady financial maneuverings. Jasmine still dresses like a politician’s wife and even flew first-class. Her sister and temporary host, Ginger (Sally Hawkins), a grocery store employee, is confused. Isn’t first-class really expensive? How’d she end up there? “I just did,” replies Jasmine, as if she was being asked how one breathes. 

Ginger’s apartment—her whole life, really—is a severe disappointment to Jasmine. When she first enters the perfectly serviceable abode—and this is where Allen’s deft touch and Blanchett’s acting mesh—you can hear her world shatter as the director tours the main room. Forget about the cramped quarters. Its Southwestern-colored walls and flea market art assault Jasmine’s cream-colored, subdued sensibilities. Everything in San Francisco is harsher. The colors are brighter. The people she meets want more than an in at Le Cirque. Ginger’s boyfriend, Chili (Bobby Cannavale), is a mechanic whom Jasmine immediately despises. He’s as refined as mozzarella sticks and has a short fuse, but his biggest flaw is that he traffics in realism. Chili hasn’t known Jasmine a day but keeps asking her what she’s going to do. There’s a vague notion of returning to college. What will she study? How will she get there? She hasn’t thought that far ahead.

Even without the Xanax and stiff drinks, Jasmine has woven a cocoon of delusion so thick that it’s impossible for her to break free. So she plays the role—her wardrobe remains immaculate throughout—hoping someone will provide a new, glamorous set. Until then, she’ll tell her sob stories and relate to Ginger by criticizing her lousy choice in men—while failing to see that Chili and her ex-husband (Andrew Dice Clay, who’s great) are real and loyal and loving. But that damned reality. It always ruins how we want to see things.

There are more than a few similarities to A Streetcar Named Desire here, starting with the displaced, cracked belle forced to reunite with her shabby sister and grease monkey beau. Allen does not ride the same tracks for too long. Jasmine gets a job as a dentist’s receptionist while learning how to use a computer. Ultimately, the goal is to go online to become an interior designer. Sure. The class goes far beyond Internet basics, and the dentist (Michael Stuhlbarg) throws himself on Jasmine, who storms out. 

She’s appalled by his behavior, I think, not because it is inappropriate. The dentist has committed the cardinal sin of seeing Jasmine at her bottom. This becomes evident a few scenes later, when she concocts a fabulous and false backstory upon meeting Dwight, a dashing almost-ambassador played by Peter Sarsgaard, at a party. Materialism governs Jasmine’s life. The flashbacks portray Jasmine and Hal as a husband and wife in name only. They’re playing roles. Jasmine, elegant and beautiful, gives Hal class; Hal gives Jasmine everything. “Is there anything you want that you don’t have?” he asks at one point. He was Jasmine’s conduit to a lifestyle. Dwight is a replacement. She doesn’t fall in love for who Dwight is but what he represents: a handsome man with political aspirations and a huge new house that can host a Gatsbyesque party. Jasmine can’t be saved. What’s worse, she doesn’t even know it. 

Blanchett offers a gut-wrenching performance, but it’s not so grand that we don’t see who Jasmine is and what Allen is saying about us: we are this close to losing our way, with only our memories to keep us company. The last time I checked that problem is not unique to the Upper East Side.