I saw . . . this: Part 3

An on-going series about movies I saw, had some thoughts about, but won't be reviewing.

Sunset Boulevard (1950)

I really only knew Billy Wilder from his comedies before this, but it doesn't take that much of a leap to see what he could do with darker material. His best comedies, like The Apartment, had a dark edge to them anyway. I liked the movie well enough, but there were moments when I felt like Gloria Swanson was swinging away from truly rocking the role and into high camp. Still, it's her movie from start to finish. William Holden may be the protagonist and the narrator, but he basically has the thankless task of standing back from her whirlwind.

Splendor in the Grass (1961)

I went into this one thinking that it was one of the great teen romance movies of all time, and I turned it off wondering how in the world it got that rep. Natalie Wood and Warren Beatty do great work in their roles, particularly Wood (I can still hear her hitting all the right notes of yearning and desperation), but . . . were they kidding with this stuff? And isn't it supposed to be based on an urban legend from the town in which writer William Inge grew up? Alright, kids, here's today's take home message: go out and lose your virginity immediately because it will drive you completely crazy (Wood) or to a physical collapse (Beatty) if you don't. I get what they are doing here with ideas of growing up right and sexual repression and the whole parents-just-don't-understand thing, but this is too much. At a certain point I only kept the damn thing on because I was waiting Beatty and Wood to finally find their way back to each other, only to get a sickening feeling that they wouldn't. And then they didn't. So they went through all of that for nothing? Okay, then.

Confidential to Warren: I'll take this all back if you would just make some more movies. Thanks.

The Hours (2002)

If you take three great performances from three great actresses and toss in another tender, haunting, and dense score from minimalist Philip Glass, what do you get? An dull and dry movie, apparently. I can understand why the women in question received such accolades, but what is with this movie? On and on she goes, with no real surprises and not much in way of the character development. If we are supposed to consider it a meditation on a theme (suicide), then it failed in that regard as well. One woman doesn't end up offing herself even though she had a freaky hell-child from whom I wanted her to escape. In other plot, I simply counted the minutes until the suicide occurred. "Now? How 'bout now? Now? Oh, finally." And then that roundabout twist revealed too late into the movie that the mom walked out? How was that supposed to make me feel? Ah, well. I think, in the end, that it's more of a mood piece than anything: impossible to really see what's happening if you're not in the mood.

A Top 10 I wish was mine

For those who wonder why film criticism is important. Rarely have I read an elegiac ode to movies that is more passionate, more heartfelt, or more whip smart than what the good folks over at the AV Club have cooked up for this year's review. I've always been jealous of their ability to reduce a movie to cinders in three paragraphs, and now I have to be jealous of their ability to suffuse film criticism with imaginative joy as well.

Pop Culture Round-Up V

The kind of thing more people should be writing about. Because my ZipList isn't long enough.

Sounds like this guy knows what he's talking about. Good list.

Why didn't my school ever get on this?

These are so fun. I only got half right, mind you, but they were fun.

How embarrassing. I have seen only 5.5 of these movies.

Driving Lessons (2006)

Outline: Straight-laced mother Laura (Laura Linney) convinces her 17 year-old son Ben (Rupert Grint) to get a summer job. He takes a position as an assistant to Evie (Julie Walters), a former actress turned eccentric (don't they always?).

There's not much else to write up there without giving away all the plot points, but I will tell you that there is an affair and a road trip.

I've been reluctant to review this particular film as it is going to force me to say some things that I'd really rather not. Let's start with the good.

The good: Walters and Grint, of course. They have such a sweet and natural chemistry that it borders on miraculous when their lonely hearts find each other. Writer-director Jeremy Brock reportedly based the work on his own experience working for a Dame as a teenager. If Dame Peggy Ashcroft was anything like Evie Walton, he was lucky to have found her. Walters plays her as the kind of carefree spirit that only gets that way after a lifetime of losing that for which she cares the most, and it is hard not to get caught up in her spell as Ben does. Grint is also delightful as a young man struggling desperately against the apron strings.

Those strings, mind you, are more like a noose the way Brock has written Laura. I've long held that Linney is one of the best actress out there doing the work today, but, regardless of the accent or the blasé one-dimensionality of the character, Linney is awful in the role. I don't think it's that she's miscast because she did a similar take on suburban life and acting out a proscribed role to a much better effect in The Truman Show. Linney offers a reprehensible monster and no insight into why she needs to control Ben so desperately. I mean, what was with her always standing in the driveway waiting for him? Could she hear him shuffling along? And her final, undeserved comeuppance? What was the point, exactly?

Also, why was super-cute Bryony (Michelle Duncan) interested in Ben? Oh, you're not going to show us any of that? Thanks, Brock.

And finally, could Clive Carroll and John Renbourn have written a more ridiculous and cutesy "look at me with the piano and the hand-claps!" score? Don't get me wrong, I was initially swayed by its syncopated fun, but it wouldn't have killed them to vary the routine a little. After a while, it was grating and lent itself to negative comparisons to Tim DeLaughter's similar and superior Thumbsucker work.

Alright, small praise for Nicholas Farrell as Robert Marshall because he seemed like a nice enough guy trying to figure a way out of a bad situation, which is exactly what I thought the role should be. And nailing those tent pegs in at the end? That's parenting.

As one Bytowne mate succinctly put it, "cute but dumb." Indeed. C

Blood Diamond (2006)

Premise: During the civil war in Sierra Leone, Solomon Vendy (Djimon Hounsou) is separated from his family and taken to work in the mines. He finds a massive diamond and manages to hide it from his captors. Smuggler Danny Archer (Leonardo DiCaprio) wants the diamond in exchange for helping Solomon find his family. Journalist Maddy Bowen (Jennifer Connelly) wants Danny's story and agrees to help Solomon in the process.

Well, that was horrifying. At the beginning, there was a brief second that my mind flitted back to a comment I read a few years back as to whether there is a such a thing as a "genocide genre," but it didn't last. The movie is shockingly yet un-gratitously violent, and it's difficult to think of much else while you are watching it. To be honest, given the sheer weight of Hounsou's performance, it's nigh impossible to process any thoughts at all.

Although there is a certain paint by numbers quality to Charles Leavitt's screenplay, it's also terrifying and uplifting and ballsy. He's a writer not afraid to call his characters out on their flaws, and he's willing to push them. Perhaps his best quality as a writer, however, is his reluctance to push them too far. Too often we see characters in these do-or-die situations, with road block heaped upon outrage and yet always ready to overcome. Here the characterizations are much more mild as well as complex. Well, maybe not all of them.

There's a single-mindedness to Solomon that I am tempted to label one-dimensionality, but Hounsou embraces the role with such ferocity that I admit I cannot. Hounsou plays him as a man constantly at the tipping point, but he has the strength of mind to always bring himself back from the brink. It is an award-worthy performance and provides the film's moral centre.

DiCaprio shines as a materialist with minimal possessions. Arhcer's development is predetermined, but DiCaprio gives it such a natural feel that you can forget your misgivings. There isn't a moment were his opportunist isn't renegotiating, and he lets all that conflict show. As for the accent, it's a little odd for the first few minutes (bear in mind that it's supposed to be South African by way of Rhodesia), but you get used to it and even get to enjoy it.

Ah, Connelly. I'm starting to like you. It was nice that you could show Maddy's feelings without resorting to tears, and your lovely opaque irises demonstrate a formidable resilience in a time of crisis.

I should just come out and tell you that I love director Edward Zwick. I love the TV shows he produces, anyway. The movies he directs tend to be long and all work along the same idea, but they have an earthy, humanist quality to them that is difficult to ignore much less dislike. He takes odd casting choices and brings out a sublime quality to the performances.

Props to James Newton Howard for his hearty and dramatic score. There were a few moments that were a tad clichéd but none of them too much. Actually, that's the movie in a nutshell. A-

Golden Globes

Nominations are out. I gotta say, I'm a bit disappointed. I'm looking at some of the titles thinking, "That wasn't very good. That wasn't very good. Neither was that." What's happened to movies this year? Were they not very good?

Ah, well. There are the nods that I do appreciate: Justin Kirk, Mary Louise Parker and Weeds; Masi Oka and Heroes*; Katherine Heigl, as Izzie is my fav intern; Sarah Paulson, who is doing yeoman's work on that sad-sack show**; Kyra Sedgwick, who rocks The Closer pretty damn hard; Hugh Laurie; Keifer Sutherland and 24; the double nod for Clint Eastwood that I sort of hope will split the vote and give the award to Martin Scorsese; Rinko Kikuchi, who was the best part of Babel; Will Ferrel, even though I would call that a dramatic role; Meryl Streep and Emily Blunt for The Devil Wears Prada, even if the movie itself was not so good; any props whatsoever for Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio are fine by me.

Oh, and the lifetime achievement award going to Warren Beatty. Now if it would only convince him to come out of retirement. Le sigh. At least I have Bulworth.

*If you're not watching, you need to start.

**Which I faithfully watch every week, like an idiot.

Pop Culture Round-Up IV

Just reading this list makes my eyes well up.

National Board of Review's Top 10 of 2006 is out (already!). Too bad many of the films aren't.

Giggles. I'd like to say there was some sort of Western-centrism to this that offends me, but it's too funny to be annoyed. I would pay good money to see that.

Little Children (2006)

Idea: Depressed suburban housewife Sarah (Kate Winslet) and emasculated househusband Brad (Patrick Wilson) begin a tentative friendship that leads to an affair. Convicted sex offender Ronnie (Jackie Earle Hickey) moves back in with his mother (Phyllis Somerville) in the same neighbourhood. Larry (Noah Emmerich) becomes Brad's football buddy and obsessed with personally policing Ronnie.

It's been a while now, but I'm still not sure how I feel about this movie. Okay, that's not entirely true. I have a fairly good handle on how I feel about this movie, but I don't want to come out and say how I feel about this movie.

I know I have come out against narration in movies in the past, but I think my stance on the issue has been considered much more harsh than it really is. In certain movies, it more than works - it's necessary. It worked in, say, American Beauty because Lester, while the protagonist, was only one character, and he didn't go around telling us how everyone else felt. It was necessary for Sunset Boulevard because it was tied to the very conceit of the story - a writer telling the story of his death from beyond the grave. It works in the first Bridget Jones movie because it mimics the source material (all the events are Bridget's interpretation or memory thereof) and because it is used sparingly.

It works well here, in certain cases. Particularly for Brad's character. It's not that Wilson doesn't do a good job (because he does); it's that certain ideas and how they make Brad feel, like that bit about the jester's hat as it slowly sails to the floor, could do with a bit of exposition.

Of course, there were other times when I wanted to yell, "Shut up, Will Lyman, SHUT UP!" Again, particularly as they applied to Sarah. Winslet is an incredible actress - there isn't a fraction of a second where the exact right emotion, as well as a plethora of others, doesn't register on her face. Mind you, the idea of trying to make her plain is laughable, but that doesn't stop Winslet from putting her all into Sarah's boredom and detachment.

I get that there are difficulties in adapting a book for the screen, particularly when the director (Todd Field) works with the author of the novel (Tom Perrotta). I get that there are chunks of prose so beautiful, so rich and meaningful that it is painful to cut them. On other hand, I doubt you want your audience to waste the denouement thinking, "Really? X is surprised to find himself in this situation? This moment is meant to be, in some way, ironic? Thanks, narrator! How would I have discovered that on my own?"

Alright, leaving aside my personal vendetta against unnecessary narration, let's give credit where it is due. Hickey was both scary and incredibly sad. It takes confidence to return to the screen after more than a decade of absence to this kind of role, and he does it will aplomb. Jennifer Connelly, who I never thought much of in the past, dazzled me with her mincing gaze. Thomas Newman, whom I have railed against, wrote a score than is sparse but elegant, working with the natural sounds of the neighbourhood (particularly the train that rolls through town) instead of another Shawshank rip-off.

And, finally, Field. Let us marvel at his talent - his ability to get inside of people's emotions and insecurities and present them in a way that feels fresh and honest. His exploration of grief in In the Bedroom was heavy without being heavy-handed, and now, examining the causes and short-term consequences of infidelity (of all sorts), he creates an intelligent and wholly believable world littered with the debris of the everyday.

But Madame Bovary at the book club? Come! On! At least Winslet got an amazing line out of it. B+

Deliver Us from Evil (2006)

Focus: Victims and their families share their stories of abuse and the difficulties they have had rebuilding their lives as writer-director Amy Berg recreates the timeline of when Oliver O'Grady was first accused of molesting a child, the years the Catholic Church spent shuffling him around from one small-town California parish to another as he sexually abused untold numbers of children, and his arrest nearly three decades later.

It's tough to separate the subject matter from the documentary. I am in awe of the courage it took Anne, Nancy, Adam, and their parents to participate in this feature. Their interviews are gut-wrenchingly honest. None are more heartbreaking than the interviews with the parents, particular with Bob and Maria, Anne's parents. It's horrifying what they all went through, and the bravery that it takes for these parents to face the camera and admit the extent to which they were duped and the extent to which they blamed themselves is beyond noble. If I went in for that sort of thing, I'd call for them to be elevated to the realm of saints.

That said, and truly meant, Berg's not the best director. She lines up an erudite and articulate group of experts, and they do a very good job of illuminating the situation from both perspectives. That she gets O'Grady to walk her through everything that happened (he's roaming free back in Ireland, just so you know) is a testament to her power as a interviewer, especially given that the Church declined to comment. But the first twenty to thirty minutes of this 101 minute documentary drag, mostly because of poorly chosen clips. Berg finds her footing and send the thing humming along, but, given the highly disturbing subject, she really should have gotten the doc moving far sooner in order to prevent the audience from walking out.

Mind you, she does an incredible job of waiting for her interviewees to tell the real story.

Still, I find myself wishing that I had seen the movie promised by the trailer, a doc so powerful it dared you to ignore it, all set to Johnny Cash's cover of "God's Gonna Cut You Down."* Even so, it is all but impossible to overlook. A-

*Okay, perhaps I would have been placated if the song had appeared in the film.

Pop Culture Round-Up III

EW hits the spot with their celebrity endorsement photo gallery. Too bad they missed the Revlon/Robert Altman matchup.

Congratulations, Ryan! And Half Nelson generally! And also Little Miss Sunshine.

Should I be alarmed by how many of these I have seen?

About this list: There are movies that I think are overrated on there, movies that I think understand why other people think are overrated, but some of them were complete surprises. I mean, of all time? Are people still talking about, much less watching and having strong reactions to Chariots of Fire? Good Will Hunting? Being overrated at the time and being cannon and overrated aren't really the same thing, Premiere.

The Fountain (2006)

Idea: Spanish conquistador Tomas (Hugh Jackman) searches the jungles of what is now Ecuador for the Tree of Life, as charged by his Queen, Isabel (Rachel Weisz). Present day (or slightly into the future?) Tommy searches for a cure for his wife, Izzi's, terminal brain tumor. Far into the future, Tom traverses the universe to reach the centre of a nebula wrapped around a dying star.

For far more time than is reasonable or necessary, Em and I went back and forth after screening this movie on Sunday. The back and forth had two parts: 1) wondering what we just saw, and 2) giggling. Which makes this review a little more difficult than usual.

Darren Aronofsky's third feature length film is visually stunning. His DP, Matthew Libatique, better be getting his due in a big way come awards time. Instead of the now-standard CGI, they opted for micro-photography of chemical reactions to create the film's unique look. Everything is set up perfectly for the eye: from the shots (heavy on the close-ups and high angles) to the lighting (take a look above - all very low and supernatural, as though the earth itself is lit from within).

Darren Aronofsky's third feature length film is superbly acted. Weisz and Jackman have wonderful chemistry, and it's a testament to both of them, as well as their writer-director, that they manage to make their relationship seem passionate yet tentative (in the conquistador story) and warmly lived-in (in the almost now one). Jackman quivers with impassioned fury as the embodiment of chivalrous love, and he's gut-wrenching as he crawls his way through the stages of grief. Weisz matches him frame for frame, though she's much less the protagonist than he is, and, to a certain extent, much less of a character. As is so frequently the case in these sort of stories (think The Odyssey or any medieval romance), the woman is less a person than she is the avatar of virtue. Weisz gives Izzi more three dimensionality than I am suggesting, but still.

Darren Aronofsky's third feature length film is alive with imagery. The way he criss-crosses through world religion, folklore, and traditional theatrical symbolism is a sight to behold. In any one scene there are hundreds of culture clues to pick up. With Clint Mansell's lovely, lilting score drifting through the scenes, it's hard not to let it carry you off as well.

So it's too bad that Darren Aronofsky's third feature length film makes no sense. Symbolism without substance has no meaning at all (although it did occur to me that this movie would be a semiotician's dream). As a mediation on grief, Aronofsky's picture is bar none, but as a movie? Emotional and evocative, to be sure, but it lacks a core argument to sustain the premise as it moves through time. I wouldn't recommend this movie to anyone, but I wouldn't ward them off of seeing it either because I know I would see it again. It sort of casts a dreamy haze over you. B

Casino Royale (2006)

Premise: M (Judi Dench) promotes James Bond (Daniel Craig) to double-oh. For his inaugural mission, Bond must track down Le Chiffre (Mads Mikkelsen), who launders money for terrorists, and defeat him in a high stakes game of Texas Hold 'Em. Vesper Lynd (Eva Green) is sent by the Treasury to oversee their investment, as they have provide Bond's 10 million dollar buy-in.

A few of us were talking in class the other day about how we wanted to see this movie , about the re-invigoration of the franchise, and the new direction of the protagonist. A return to the roots as Ian Fleming imagined them, to be sure, but far different from what we have seen in the past. At one point, while taking about how The New Bond isn't going to come across as a suave, pleasure-seeking playboy, one guy declared, "He's a thug." He said 'thug' so many times that it became something of a jarring credo, and I was wryly amused when M informed Bond that he is meant to be more than just that.

She's right, though, and Craig plays him as more of a cold-blooded mercenary than anything else. To be fair, this is Craig we are talking about, so he tends to be using his icy-blue eyes to conceal more than he'll ever show. Even so, this is by far a different sort of Bond. There's no Q, and he's not really one for gadgets - a gun and some serious hand-to-hand are his take down methods. In the past, Bond seemed to take out the baddie while stifling a yawn. Violence was a necessary component of his vocation. Here, however, Craig's Bond is something far nastier - he'll kill you, with his bare hands, just for the heck of it. There's an edge that has replaced the devil-may-care attitude of Bonds past.

Unfortunately for Bond, and fortunately for the viewer, there's a lesson to be learned on his first 00 mission. I inwardly cringed when I saw Paul Haggis' name flash on the screen. With two other screenwriters to temper him (Neal Purvis and Robert Wade) and the general possibility that the name that appears has nothing to do with the finished product, he appears not to have bollixed this one up. The bed-hopping and double-entendres are kept to a minimum, providing us with a sleeker, leaner, and, oddly enough, longer feature. From the opening adrenalin-pumping chase sequence to the utterly satisfying closing, you'll hardly notice the length.

Thank goodness Dame Judi remains in place after the re-jig. I adore her in this thoroughly anti-maternal role. She also happens to be the best looking woman in the pic.

I think we all know what happens to villains in this sort of movie, which is too bad. I enjoyed Mikkelsen as the number-crunching villain.

Can I just say one thing, though? What's with Bond villains and facial scars? Can anyone explain that to me?

Ah, well. It's the Bond we've all been waiting for, made possible by the darkness that has crept into, of all things, comic book movies. Enjoy this sinister delight. A-

Sad.

Here's to long tracking shots, overlapping dialogue, and a truly unique point of view.

Pop Culture Round-Up II

Glad to see that Mimi and I are on the same page re: Larry Clark. (You'll have to scroll a little bit) I don't know if that's what I would say if I saw him in the street, but, still: same page.

Do a pop culture crossword!

The wait, she is over. People has finally gotten around to reminding me which Hollywood men are sexy. Let's see . . . totally agree; agree; nope; lost me with the quote; no doubt about it (also, "in a relationship"? Is that official copy?) ; is going to die of a terrible infectious disease from his alien girlfriend; who?; maybe; true, but that pic doesn't really show it; sure; who, again; who because I don't watch the show and because he looks like a killer; yup; Tim from the L word? looks like a killer, too; accepted cannon. So, 6.5 out of 15.

Babel (2006)

Plot: Yussef (Boubker Ait El Caid) and Ahmed (Said Tarchani) are practicing shooting with their father's new rifle, using cars on the highway below them as targets. One of Yussef's bullets hits an American woman, Susan (Cate Blanchett) on vacation with her husband, Richard (Brad Pitt). Their crisis prevents them from making it home in time to relieve their live-in nanny, Amelia (Adriana Barraza), so that she may attend her son's wedding. When she can find no one else to take Susan and Richard's kids (Elle Fanting and Nathan Gamble), Amelia decides to take them across the border with her and her nephew, Santiago (Gael García Bernal). Meanwhile, a deaf-mute girl, Chieko (Rinko Kikuchi), struggles with her relationship with her father (Kôji Yakusho) after her mother's suicide, in addition to all that adolescent fun.

Avoiding the press on this one has been difficult. I did, however, read this Crosstalk, in which Scott Tobias alleges that, in lesser hands than those of director Alejandro González Iñárritu, Babel would have been "Crash 2, an inelegant, deeply contrived narrative about the ripple effects of violence across the globe, or some such pretentious nonsense." For some reason, despite the fact that I am aware of how highly praised this movie, I got the distinct impression from this conversation that there was something wrong with the movie.

Unfortunately for the droves of people I have seen streaming from the movie's showings at ye olde Bytowne (or perhaps fortunately as no one else seems to have noticed), there is something wrong with this movie.

Guillermo Arriaga's screenplay tells four varied stories very well. Each individual story is expertly handled, but things start to fall apart when it comes to interlocking them. The two Morrocan stories and the Californian/Mexican story work well together, although they are not all chronologically linked up. Each story contains believable characters who, for the most part, make momentarily stupid decisions that end up going very poorly. Overall, it seems unlikely, but, in the moment, the acts seem plausible, even possible.

The Japanese story, though it is integrated about a hundred years in, is also well done, complete with fairly believable characters and performances. It's too bad that it really doesn't sync up with the rest of the themes. Sure, a few parallels could be drawn between, say, Yussef and Chieko. Even so, the story feels completely disjointed with the rest. It's too bad that they didn't make a movie just about Chieko, to be honest. I would have gone to see that.

Yes, the performances are all they are cracked up to be, with a particularly compelling turn from Pitt. Normally he seems like a fairly limited actor. Here, he pushes far beyond those bounds to get in touch with raw human emotion in a way he has never done in the past.

As for González Iñárritu's much celebrated visual style, I'm going to have to plead partial ignorance on this one. I've never seen any of his work before this movie. To be honest, if this is the norm, I don't think I want to. Disorienting your viewers can have its place, but making them nearly fall over because you refuse to find a focus in a given situation isn't a style at all. In his defence, the kind of instances I speak of were rare.

So, what am I saying exactly? Perfomances: good, story: good, visual style: mostly good? Where's the beef? It's here: this movie is the kind that can't just be good. It has to be more than the sum of its parts. Or, alternatively, it doesn't all add up. Everything sepearately is good but, taking all together, isn't good. Each individual section needs to be excellent for this kind of movie to achieve the harmony necessary to make it palatable. Instead, it feels long and somewhat overblown, even dull in sections. There are individual scenes that veer in the direction of excellence but not enough of them. As such, the whole movie is bogged down.

At least we get another evocative guitar driven score from Gustavo Santaolalla. B-

Stranger Than Fiction (2006)

Story: Harold Crick (Will Ferrell) is an IRS auditor leading a dreary, repetitive existence until he is sent to audit a baker, Ana Pascal (Maggie Gyllenhaal). Karen Eiffel (Emma Thompson) is struggling to finish her latest novel with no help from the publisher's assistant (Queen Latifah). The very novel Karen struggling to finish happens to be about Harold, and, when Harold realizes that the narrator he has been hearing is determined to kill him, he determines to find her. To this end, he enlists a literature professor (Dustin Hoffman).

As a director, I find Marc Forster pretty hit and miss. Screenwriter Zach Helm has written exactly one made-for-TV movie. Despite their short comings, this movie is a delight. The very premise is enchanting.

Ferrell gives a career best performance. He is wonderfully subtle and nuanced in the role. I don't want to give too much away about this scene, but there is one where he hits the exact right note of clever and dorky. I loved that.

Although Hoffman was likable in his role, it kind of felt like he was merely playing a more lucid version of his character in I ♥ Huckabees. On the other hand, when he begins waxing rhapsodic on "little did he know," a moment like that is a dream come true. You can see the fun the actor is having - it's impossible not to be infected by it.

Thompson decided to act the hell out of her role. Very few people can bring such delightful quirk to desperation in my opinion.

Gyllenhaal was also a welcome breath of fresh felicity. I have worried that there is a little similarity in the roles she has played in the past, so this movie serves as a welcome reminder that she can (and does) branch out.

As much as I like Queen, I don't really get the point of casting a name of such stature in a rather small role. I feel like a great number of other people could have gotten the job done just as well.

Unfortunately, Helm turns the whole thing rather oddly dramatic toward the end. Even worse, he goes sentimental on us. I get that writing about writers writing is a difficult task, and, in a way, it is a brave choice. I'd say that not changing the ending would have been a braver choice, but I'm not certain that that is true. Either way you'd end up feeling like you've gotten the short shrift. The problem is that the very conceit of the movie is self-defeatist. Harold knows he's going to die. Either he's going to die or he's going to live. There's not a lot of wiggle room there.

Logistics aside, this movie is the kind that would be described as a "feel good" movie. It's more than that - it's a feel better movie. B+

V for Vendetta (2005)

RE-view insanity!

Just the other day, I thought to myself: what am I going to put in this year's Top 10? Because, although things have picked up lately, I haven't seen that many good movies this year. Then I thought, "V! I'll put V on the list! And I was so pleased.

Imagine my confusion when I pulled up the review to write this RE-view and discovered that I put the year as 2005. Then I looked it up on IMDb and saw 2005. "But didn't I see this is March of this year?" I asked. Apparently, I did. I looked up the release dates and sorted myself out.

I know you don't care about any of that, but at least you got a preview of what will likely be part of the Top 10 that you won't read until March 2007!

Also, thanks to A & M for this lovely b-day gift!

I had been saving this movie to watch in honour of Bonfire Night. Prior to this, I had been trying to convince myself that my high opinion of the movie had been falsely inflated. I didn't want to see it again only to be disappointed, so I kept trying to lower my expectations. As is my custom, I watched the trailer before I started the movie, which, I have to tell you, makes the movie look pretty crappy. Stupid, even.

Listen, guys - I don't normally read my reviews and say, "Oh, good work, self!" I mostly read them over and notice the things I didn't remember to include from my mental check list. But I was reading this review . . . and I was spot on. No, really, I feel like I hit the nail on that head with that one.

The movie is much better than it has any right to be, given (in my opinion) its pedigree. It is far more intelligently penned than one would expect. It is thoughtful and insightful, and McTeigue has an incisive eye. The way he calls up Kent State and Vietnam to go with the other allusions is particularly perceptive.

Portman and Weaving do have some intense chemistry, which amazes me under the circumstances. And, though I am loath to sound like a squeeing fangirl, I have such a crush on him now. V may be the embodiment of revenge, but Weaving fills him the idea that remains unspoken until Evey pulls that lever. There's no way that someone you never see is going to nominated for any best actor awards, which is a shame. Weaving gives one of the best performances of the year.

I did miss one point, though - Natasha Wightman as Valerie. She isn't in the movie for long, yet her stirring monologue brought tears to my eyes. I hope I get to see her in many more movies.

Although I was right about the slow second act, it's not as bad as a remember it. Besides, this movie is so wonderful it charmed my low quality DVD player-through-VCR set-up into behaving. That makes me feel like bumping the movie up to an A. I won't just yet, but I am thinking about it.

Walk the Line (2005)

RE-view extravaganza!

Although I had picked up this movie months earlier, I had been saving it to watch with my mom. My mom, great though she is, never goes to the movies. She appearently used to go with my nana, but I have no understand of when or what movies they saw. I think they used to go to the downtown theatre, which closed when I was about 13. She once told me that the last movie she and my dad went to see in the theatre was The Godfather, which probably means that was the last movie my dad saw in the theatre.

And yet, I fully blame them for getting me hooked on movies.

Anyway, the point here is that I thought my mom would like this movie. When we were listening to the soundtrack at Christmas, my mom remarked that sometimes, not everytime, but sometimes, Joaquin Phoenix's voice could be mistaken for that of Johnny Cash.

After we watched the DVD together, I asked her what she thought. "Oh, it was good," she said. I blinked. "It was very good." My mom wasn't dismissive, she was emphatic, but still. "Very good"? Had I been mistaken about the quality of this film?

Yes and no. I don't think I was wrong about the performance, which are among the best from two highly talented actors. I think they do excellent work, and together that work makes the movie snap with electric energy.

Even so, the movie's sort of oddly paced. It speeds up and slows down, rushing through some perfomances, yet letting itself breath for beaitfully done scenes like the one in the diner near the beginning. She gets him to talk about Jack for the first time in years; she confesses to him all her feelings inadequacy as she stands in her family's shadow. Scenes like that are the stuff of great cinema.

I recall when I read Owen Gliberman's comment that WtL had the potential to become a "monster chick flick." I didn't get it at the time, but I can see it now. The film, probably conciously although it goes unmentioned, sets up Johnny's addiction in direct relation to his tortured, protracted romance with June. June turns him down for a kiss? He pops pills for the first time. He accidentally makes June cry? He rips a sink out of the wall, then scrambles to pick up the scattered pills and chase them with beer. He's like House, only with music instead of medicine. And, you know, real.

I wasn't wrong about Vivian, though. No offense to Goodwin, but what a harpy! Could she have resented his career a little more? She didn't want to him to talk about it? That's all he does! What the hell else is he going to talk about?

I admit that I may have over-estimated this movie when I originally reviewed it but only by a hair. It's still one of the best. New grade: A-

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)

More RE-views!

No, I haven't seen this movie in two years either. It's not like I didn't want to see it, and I think I may have watched parts of it, but I didn't sit down and watch the whole thing through again until not so long ago.

My goodness, how my review didn't do justice to this film! I seem to have overlooked cinematographer Ellen Kuras' arresting visual style, Jon Brion's playful yet melancholy score, the perfect harmony of Michel Gondry's direction with Charlie Kaufman's incredible script. Overlooked no more!

Oh, Kate Winslet, how do you do it? How do you play everything so naturally? How do you manage to generate believable chemistry with just about anyone? (I even buy the pairing of her and Jack Black) Kate, I find it exceedingly difficult to place this mantle on anyone, but I think you are my favourite actress. You take risks, but you're selective. You're sensual and ethereal and achingly amazing in this movie. Clementine is seductive and bitchy and cruel and lovable.

The other half of the relationship, as presented by Jim Carrey, is pitch perfect. Joel is everything that Clementine hates to see and wants to possess. His futile attempts to save her are as romantic as they are idiotic, but the way he seems to write her into his memory - knowing that she's only the version of herself that he chooses to see - it's the way Carrey plays the cruelty of desperation matched with the courage necessary to try anyway that makes your breath catch in your chest.

That final, urgently whispered plea before Clementine disappears entirely from Joel's memory? That last scene in the hallway, knowing what they do and choosing what they do anyway? Makes this the most romantic movie I have ever seen.

As this review was also from the time before grades, allow me to attach another: A+

Mean Creek (2004)

RE-view time!

Now, I know you might be thinking, "Elfin April, you haven't watched this movie again in two years?" And the simple answer is, "Le no." I probably put it on my Zip list as soon as it came out on DVD, but it didn't arrive until recently.

As I recall, I saw this movie not only because of Caulkin but also because a few select reviews sold me on it. Occasionally, when I do not know about a movie in advance, the right review can sell me on seeing it. The problem with many of the reviews I read, however, was that they gave away the film's entire plot.

George's accidental (or not-so-accidental, depending on your point of view) death doesn't happen in the beginning of the film, and the film isn't solely about the fallout. George's death is the climax: there's a lot of rising action before it that centres around the group's ever-shifting opinion about George. Making the plan, calling off the plan, who's in, who's out - all of these things are in flux for most of the movie.

Peck's villain is the most eerily, true-to-life portrayal in the movie precisely because he gets what being a bully is all about - that he's a lonely kid with problems and no foreseeable solutions. The best part of his performance, however, is the way neither him nor the direction nor the screenplay allow us to forget the default setting. Even when he moves to mocking Marty's dead dad, you can see how much the betrayal has gotten to him. His voice has a too-casual anger to it, but his tearful, hurt look is unmistakable.

To have a prank turn fatal isn't a concept that Estes introduced to film. His exploration of it, nevertheless, is bar none. The shock, the rushed yet reluctant burial, the acceptance of consequences . . . it all feels so natural in a completely artificial situation.

But, really, it is all about Caulkin. Right at the end there, when the detective leaves the room, and he knows he doesn't have to say or do anything, when he turns to the camera and slowly, deliberately announces that he has never seen Rocky so out of control in his life - that's when the movie socks you in the gut. You see him, in the span of 30 or 45 seconds, age years, decades. The child is gone in a instant.

Because I wrote the original review before I graded movies, let's grade this one now: A

The U.S. vs. John Lennon (2006)

Focus: Lennon's life during the late sixties and seventies when he became more politically active, lived in New York, and perceived by the US government as a national threat.

It's all in the tagline: Musician. Humanitarian. National Threat.

I'm about to say a lot of things that are going to sound ridiculously stupid and fangirl-esque, so allow me a brief explanation. It's been a long time since I saw a documentary with a positive focus. I've grown accustomed to polemic, one sided stories like Fahrenheit 9/11 or Outfoxed. Even something like Control Room, which presented a different side of the story than we normally get, still only presented one side of the story.

In that respect, this doc is no exception. Only a handful of interviewees are offered the opportunity to defend the US, and most of them end up looking ridiculous in the process. Co-writers and co-directors David Leaf and John Scheinfeld are smart enough to give the "experts" enough rope to hang themselves -- and I'm not saying that they put words in any one's mouths -- but we can see that Leaf and Scheinfeld aren't going for balance.

Nevertheless, the doc is compelling. It's a wonder what went on behind closed doors in Washingston when they decided that deporting John and Yoko would be their best move, and the Lennons refusal to take the situation lying down is as encouraging as it is challenging.

There is another thread to this movie that is heart wrenching - the love story. I'm too young to know how John and Yoko appeared to the outside world. I never thought Yoko broke up The Beatles. In fact, from what little I've known of her, I've always kind of had a soft spot for her. She seems so effortlessly cool, and she seems to have effortlessly weathered being the mouthpiece and collective memory of a lost legend. I think may be in awe of her.

And, oh, to see their bed-ins for the first time. To watch them waltz through Central Park. To glimpse how over-the-top and absolutely they were in love. It's truly touching.

Love story aside, the doc drags in parts. It's still pretty darn good. B+

Pop Culture Round-Up

I remember two of these songs. Can anyone best me?

This list contains all three shows I would nominate. The Rogen factor goes a long way.

David Edelstein reminds me why I like him.

Marie Antoinette (2006)

Idea: The empress of Austria's daughter, Antoine (Kirsten Dunst), is promised to the dauphin of France, Louis XVI (Jason Schwartzman). She leaves her life and family behind to become Marie Antoinette at Versailles. Marie struggles against her naiveté to fit in with French society (Rose Byrne, Shirley Henderson, Molly Shannon, Steve Coogan), please her father-in-law (Rip Torn) and his mistress (Asia Argento), and produce an heir.

Although I had been keeping with my policy to avoid reviews, I did know that writer-director Sophia Coppola's third offering was booed at Cannes. Further, my office mate announced to me that this was the worst movie he had ever seen. Now, I've seen a lot of movies. A comment like that makes it clear to me that he has not.

I liked both of Sophia's* other movies. I've watched The Virgin Suicides repeatedly. Part of what makes Sophia's movies work is her quiet and slow storytelling. It's not economical so much as it is hazy, lulling you into contemplative complacency like a cat lying in a shaft of sunlight. For Suicides and Lost in Translation, the deliberate pace works against the audience, blinding you to how invested in the story you've become. You're mesmerized.

Here, however, the very thing that made Sophia's movie work in the past has the opposite effect. Her protagonist barely speaks for the first twenty minutes, which is indicative of the minimalist dialogue and plot. Endless shots of sumptuous Laudrée cakes and gorgeous Manolo Blahnik shoes do not a story make.

Much like Wing Chun, I've seen a lot of Dunst movies without ever being certain that I like her . There certainly is a place for effervescence with an undertone of petulance, and I hold it possible that I want Dunst to be the person to fill that niche. She tries, but she's sort of lost here. I'm not even sure that I would blame Dunst - she nails Marie as an easily influenced kid in the wrong place at the wrong time, but Sophia doesn't give her a character to work with.

She neither gives her cousin much of a character, but somehow Schwartzman comes across as adorably and amusingly befuddled. To be honest, I would sit through it all again to see - and I swear this happened - an elephant flirt with Schwartzman.

The problem lies with Sophia. Given the international success and acclaim for her sophomore effort (which she penned while trying to work this story out), she seems to have fallen into complacency herself. I counted seven different scenes with visible boom mics. Not in the film geek, I-spotted-one-in-the-reflection-off-a-toaster way. In the there's-one-above-the-actor's-head-right-now way. Budget restrictions aside, that's just lazy. Re-shoot, use a different shot, digitally edit that shit out.

The movie's not bad - just boring. I have no problems with the anachronisms, pop music included.** The movie lacks the emotional connection that made her other pictures palatable. There's little substance to weigh down the fluff. C

* Liz was right. Calling her Coppola is just weird.

** There was one song that I hated. We will speak no more of that hideous thing.

Also, I agree with the Fug Girls. I would totally go see that movie.

Flags of Our Fathers (2006)

Outline: Three men (Adam Beach, Ryan Phillippe, and Jesse Bradford) who managed to survive Iwo Jima are shipped back home to stomp for war bonds, but they can't manage to leave the horrors of war behind them.

I feel as though I cannot criticize this movie without it seeming like I am criticizing veterans. Can you just take my word for it that I have nothing but the utmost respect for veterans of the Allied forces? You can? Okay, good.

Because this movie . . . isn't that good. It's not bad, per se, but there are times when it is downright ridiculous. Forehead smackingly so. Bradford's accent is one of those things, but I am sure there are more subtle examples.

I should probably tell you that it is not the direction that is at fault. Clint Eastwood is an amazing director, and his pluckly little score is lovely. He's working with some great people, like Barry Pepper, Robert Patrick, Harve Presnell, Jamie Bell, and Joseph Cross, so it's no surprise that the picture is, at turns, very moving.

Even so, I get the feeling that co-writer Paul fucking Haggis (as his name will forever me to be) woke up one morning and announced, "Non-linear is so fucking hot right now." I'd say it was William Broyles Jr., but his filmography suggests that he wouldn't go there. I've never read James Bradley and Ron Powers' book, so I guess it could be non-linear, but that seems unlikely.

Listen - I like non-linearity from time to time. The Prestige used it to great aplomb. It's an effective device to get the audience to stay in the now of a given moment, to focus on the scene instead of working on the story. Here, however, the non-linear plot works against any tension the movie may have had, dramatic or otherwise. An argument could be made that because the movie is historically based, there was never any tension in the first place. I would challenge that person to find ten average Americans who know anything about that battle other than the iconic image.*

In any case, by telling us in the first few minutes who lives and who dies, the movie looses any shot at dramatic tension it may have once had, and the denouement, minus a few touching moments, ends up feeling drawn out and overwrought.

Nevertheless, there are enough tearjearking minutes and good action sequences to redeem the film from Paul fucking Haggis' "handiwork." We'll see how the companion piece compares next year. B

*Props for acknowledging the belief that the planting of the flag was a PR stunt.

The Illusionist (2006)

Story: Edward and Sophie, although a peasant and a duchess, manage to meet and fall in love. Finally tore apart, Edward disappears for more than a decade. He reappears in Vienna as Eisenheim the Illusionist (Edward Norton), just as it appears that Sophie (Jessica Biel) will marry Crown Prince Leopold (Rufus Sewell). Leopold becomes suspicious of Eisenheim and Sophie, and he orders Chief Inspector Uhl (Paul Giamatti) to find a reason to arrest the magician.

After publishing my own review of The Prestige, I happily settled into reading others' reviews. Imagine my disappointment when I discovered that most critics, or at least the ones I have read so far, felt that The Prestige didn't stack up the year's earlier magic-centric movie, The Illusionist. I had put off seeing the latter until I could screen it for a little less at ye olde Bytowne, and the reviews had me baffled.

So what makes this movie any better than the other one? In a word? Nothing. It's not that writer-director Neil Burger's adaptation of Steven Millhauser's short story isn't good. It's plenty of good. It may even be very good.

It is, however, hollow. From the dialogue to the acting to the director, there's no emotion in any of it. We're kept at an arm's length, and, well, it's hard to love a picture that won't take you in.

Giamatti comes close to inviting us into what should be a passionate love story. Subverting his schluby, stuttering Everyman type, Giamatti displays a sweet confidence that is undercut with menace. It's pretty clear which side Uhl will line up with, but Giamatti makes sure that even Uhl is surprised by his choices and actions.

It's great that Norton has found something worthy of his intensity. Too often the material before him isn't up to what he pours into the role, but he and the love-sick Eisenheim are a good match.

Biel pulled a Perabo, managing to not annoy me. It's quite a feat on her part. It would have been nice if she had put a little more emotion behind her heaving bosom, but it's a start.

Oh, Sewell, with your lazy pupil built for bullying. Remember when you were the hero that one time? Or - dare I mention it - the romantic lead? Me, too. Oh, well. You were meant to be an villain, weren't you? It's that display of cunning and intelligence combined with the very real possibility that you could kill someone with your bare hands.

It's Philip Glass' lush, elegant score that steals the show in the end. When you've got a composer like Glass on contract, you want to put the music out in the open as much as you can, but it is to the film's detriment that Burger does so. Entrancing though the score is, it also serves as a reminder of what the movie is not.

The movie is like a trick with a pledge and a turn but no prestige. The final explanatory montage is a cheap let down, as well as the annoying bit of contrivance that led to it. Good thing we have Giamatti's low angle laugh to get me through it. B+

The Prestige (2006)

Premise: Apprentices Alfred Borden (Christian Bale) and Rupert Angier (Hugh Jackman) are competitive but friendly. An accident during Milton (Ricky Jay)'s magic show leads to a death, and their competition turns to rivalry. Angier's the better showman, but Borden's the better magician by far, forcing Angier to wonder if Borden has gone beyond tricks and illusions. Angier's obsessive need to beat Borden feeds Borden's own obsession, consuming both of them until it leads to murder.

Co-writer and director Christopher Nolan is a prima ballerina. His moves on the screen are so graceful, so delicate, and so disarming that you are hardly watching a movie at all. I was about 40 minutes in before I even remembered it was a movie. He and his brother, Jonathan, composed the screenplay, based on Christopher Priest's novel, in the three acts of a magic trick: The Pledge - the magician shows you something ordinary. In this case, it's a trial. The Turn - the magician makes the ordinary extraordinary. Film making is magic in and of itself, and here the magic comes from making you believe. Obviously the suspension of disbelief is required in all storytelling, but the Nolans go beyond that. They don't care about your disbelief because they do a lot more than get you to suspend it momentarily - they get you to leave it behind entirely.

Getting a convincing performance out of Bale is hardly extraordinary. Borden isn't one person but a plethora - a magician, a showman, a husband, a father, a lover, a friend, and an enemy. The characters are a lot to keep track of, and Bale's best moments are when the discrete personae begin blur and overlap. He never plays one emotion without the undercurrent of at least one more, if not two, and it's in that conflict that he achieves the extraordinary. He doesn't have to will you to believe in him as a great magician - he is one.

Perhaps the more extraordinary feat from C. Nolan comes then in Jackman's performance. It's not that I didn't believe that Jackman was a good actor before. It's just that he's not had much of a chance to prove it. Here he takes on a plethora of roles as well, but there's an emotion that each must possess and that Jackman embodies with a ferocity never before seen: hate. Hate is a complex human emotion, and a lot more goes into it that simply intense dislike. There's jealousy and admiration and loathing, and all of it is only a split hair away from love. I was awestruck by how much Jackman put into this role.

Another extraordinary feat was making me maybe, a little bit like Piper Perabo. She's not in the movie for long, but she didn't annoy me once, so I have to credit where it is due. Where isn't it due? Scarlett Johansson. What was that crap? I can get past her Gwyneth Paltrow English accent, and there's still nothing to get to. Her husky voice and opaque sexiness mean nothing if there isn't something behind them. And there wasn't. None of the love or hate or betrayal she should have felt as a pawn of these men was there. Instead Johansson was the apotheosis of John Berger's comment that "Men act. Women appear."

It certainly didn't help that Rebecca Hall, as Sarah, created a complete and compelling character. Or that Michael Caine delighted as Cutter, an engineer and inventor who made Angier's illusions possible. Or that David Bowie made quite an impressive entrance as Nikola Tesla.

David Julyan's score gives the movie just the right atmosphere of deception, as does Wally Pfister's compelling cinematography.

It is the third act, the Prestige, that gets you. The Turn on its own isn't enough. It's clever and nice, but figuring it out is too easy. No, the Prestige is the twist that makes you believe. The Prestige is the moment you realize the ordinary thing you thought you saw at the beginning was never ordinary. A

The Departed (2006)

Premise: Boston Mob boss Frank Costello (Jack Nicholson) gets a rat (Matt Damon) in the state police at the same time that the staties manage to get a rat (Leonardo DiCaprio) into Frank's crew. Sullivan (Damon) is tapped to track Frank's rat down, while Costigan (DiCaprio) attempts to flush the snitch out.

And you know who else is in this movie? Martin Sheen and Mark Wahlberg as DiCaprio's supervisors, Alec Baldwin as Damon's supervisor, and Ray Winstone as Frank's no.2, Mr. French. You guys, I love Ray Winstone. He kicks ass.

Ooo, and Special Agent Charlie Brown! It's too bad you guys don't know that ref. And Anthony Anderson! And Kevin Corrigan! As Em pointed out, who isn't in this movie?

Although I do not have confirmation, I believe this movie occurs in five acts instead of the standard three. Or, you could say that it has three acts as well as a prologue and epilogue. I say this because, as a viewer, I could feel the gears shirt between the acts, much to my delight.

Act 1: Setting the stage. At this point you pretty much nod your head and wait for director Martin Scorsese, in his infinite wisdom, to situate you. You pick up as much as you can (for there are clues to be had), but you mostly sit back and relax. You're in the hands of a master, right?

Act 2: And, by golly, he's going to set that scene. He's going to set this premise up like no premise has ever been set up before. You think about attempted Boston accents with varying degrees of success. You commend Nicholson for not bothering. You note Nicholson isn't playing Nicholson, and you appreciate Scorsese for that tender mercy.

Act 3: You lose complete track of the movie. You know who's a good guy and who's a bad guy and you are following the plot, but you find yourself wondering what's happening. As in, what's going on around here? Turns out Scorsese is lulling you into a false sense of security, however, as the movie hits a turning point (you'll know if the instant you see it). The action starts ramping up, hard, and the tension hits 11. And never comes back down. Thank goodness . . .

Act 4: Because it is on. And it's going to be messy. Scorsese excels in telling raw, human, American stories, and this one, although adapted from a trio of flicks from Hong Kong, is no exception. People make decisions, often the wrong ones, and those decisions always have consequences. Scorsese's lens spares no one from this fact. It was as Act 4 came to a close that I started to giggle maniacally because this movie, for reasons I can't quite put my finger on, had seeped into my very bones. Of course, this meant that I knew what had to happen next.

Act 5: It came to pass. I knew it could only go down this way for some time, I knew who would pull the final trigger and against whom for a long time, long before I knew who would be left standing at the end. This act is only a scene long, which is why it may be better to look at this film as three acts + prologue + epilogue. By the time Scorsese hits his final shot, as groan-inducing as it may seem, you don't mind because he's earned it. It's not annoying - it's hilarious.

DiCaprio continues to delight me as adult player who puts so much intensity and vulnerability into his roles. His ferrety movements and red-rimmed eyes at his first meeting with Dignam (Wahlberg) and Queenan (Sheen) is just the beginning. It's great that he's found a director willing to push him as further each time they collaborate.

I may not like Damon, but he makes a great prick. So smug, with the intelligence and the confidence and the inseparability.

But the best thing about this movie, perhaps the best thing about many of Scorsese's movies, is that it's not about good versus evil. There's no triumph. Instead, it's about achieving equilibrium. It's about symmetry. Things have a way of evening out. Victories are small, and they don't last. The fight does. So you fight. Scorsese gets that. A-

The Science of Sleep (2006)

Premise: At his mother's behest, Stéphane (Gael Garcí­a Bernal) returns to France following his father's death. He gets a mind numbing job, and his coworkers Guy (Alain Chabat), Martine (Aurélia Petit), and Serge (Sacha Bourdo) begin to populate his dreams. Stéphane has always had a problem inverting dreams and reality, and he believes he has found a kindred spirit when Stéphanie (Charlotte Gainsbourg) moves in next door.

I cannot recall the last time I saw such a charming film. Writer-director Michel Gondry has created a winsome word that defies you not to surrender to it. Visually arresting, Stéphane's dream world takes on the characteristics of joyful artistic expression occasionally tainted by the pressures of adulthood, but, for the most part, it remains childlike and honest. The entracing work of composer Jean-Michel Bernard and cinematographer Jean-Louis Bompoint certainly help immerse the viewer in Stéphane's universe of cardboard toilet paper rolls and candy wrappers.

Although each performer conceives a memorable character (Chabat is a standout as older, randy coworker who needs Stéphane to keep him entertained), it is Bernal who owns the movie from start to finish. Rather than grounding the action with temperance, Gondry gives him carte blanche to elevate the film to fantastic heights. Stéphane exists in a world apart, and Gondry makes sure to blend the realms of the imagined with reality in order to ensure that the audience sees the world as Stéphane does. It is a credit to Bernal's talent that he can make the protagonist, even in his most annoying and obnoxious moments, the most delightful of the bunch.

It is a credit to Gondry's quixotic picture that he never reveals the basis for Stéphane's feelings of rejection and his need to create elaborate delusions. Hints are dropped throughout, but there's never an eureka moment. Gondry never suggests you to feel that you should try to live as Stéphane. There is magic in this world, and some people are fortunate (unfortunate?) enough to find it. A

Bully (2001)

Brief: Marty (Brad Renfro) and Bobby (Nick Stahl) are best friends. They meet Lisa (Rachel Miner) and Ali (Bijou Phillips), and Marty and Lisa end up together. After rapes, beatings, and psychological torment at Bobby's hands, Lisa becomes convinced that Bobby is the source of everyone's problems and starts a plot to murder him. Ali rounds up her new beau (Michael Pitt) and friend (Kelli Garner) and hires a hitman (Leo Fitzpatrick), while Lisa enlists Derek (Daniel Franzese) to help.

Here's the kicker: it's a true story.

Often times, I receive movies from the kind folks at Zip and wonder, "What? What is this movie and why did I put it on my ZipList?"

Despite the fact that I had never seen this movie before or have it stored in my mental file of must-sees, I quickly put together the wherefore of it landing in my mailbox: it must have been the climax of my "Nick Stahl is good looking and a good actor" and "Whatever happened to Brad Renfro?" zipping extravaganzas. No, an ordinary person wouldn't wonder what happened to Renfro. Even if someone did, that person wouldn't look up the actor and make a point of seeing all that actor's movie from the last five years. But, well, that person isn't writing this blog.

When I watched the trailer, I suddenly remembered why I had nearly removed the movie from my ziplist more than once. The answer is simple - director Larry Clark. Clark made his infamous debut writing and directing Kids, a movie so thoroughly horrifying that I have yet to make it through an entire screening. I've seen a lot of things, moviewise, that I might want to unsee (and a fair amount of them involve Stahl, now that I am thinking about it), but I can't think of a single other movie that I don't think I have the emotional or visual capacity to sustain. Maybe, maybe A Clockwork Orange, but I'd sooner do that than Kids.

Aside from any aesthetic or artistic merits that a Clark movie may or may not possess, the critical argument always circles back to this: Does Clark exploit his barely legal young stars, or is he showcasing teen reality in a way that pretty much every other director is afraid to?

While he does a commendable job drawing the line between sex and rape (both of which you see graphically), I'm coming down on the side of exploitation. I've seen plenty of graphic scenes in my days, and these were, for the most part, no worse than ones I've seen before or will likely see again. It's the excessive nudity on top of that pushed me to side with the exploitative argument. Am I really supposed to believe that a teenaged girl who dresses in only giant men's clothes that add a solid 30 pounds to her frame sleeps nude, makes all her phone calls nude, and takes pregnancy tests nude? Or that guys normally just take their shirts off while over at other people's homes, watching TV? I was about throw in another example, then I remembered that he was naked so we could have the faintest whiff of sexual abuse by the father. Thanks for that, Clark. How such intimate details could be known about the dead guy are beyond me, but thanks anyway.

I'd get into the storyline or the acting, but, well, I'm still too saddened by the sentences the seven received. Hasn't anyone in California ever heard of mitigating circumstances?

Overall, an appalling movie that neither performances nor style could rescue. D

On the positive side, a list I thoroughly support. I was surprised at how many where among my favs.

half nelson

Half Nelson (2006)

Premise: Dan Dunne (Ryan Gosling) is a popular history teacher at an inner-city middle school. He's also an addict. He keeps his two worlds separate until Drey (Shareeka Epps), one of his students, finds him in the girl's locker room with a crack pipe.

This indie is not part of the fantastical movie world where people can save each other. Redemption isn't easy, and it doesn't come quickly. There's always further to fall for Dan, a clever composite of the worst side of addiction and the best inspirational teacher model. Early in the movie he tells his students that history is about dialectics: opposing forces work against each other, resulting in change. This monologue informs that rest of the movie, yet it does so without coming across as a cheesy after school special. For Dan, it's the drugs and the students. Every time he's stoned he wonders, ceaselessly, how he can reach his students. When he finally hears about the impact he's had, he's too far gone to understand.

For Drey, it's Dan and Frank (Anthony Mackie), a local dealer whose work landed Drey's brother in jail. Drey can't save either one of these men, and both relationships have the potential to destroy her.

What a movie, people! So . . . economical. But in a good way. Relationships, characters, and plot points are established in seconds, not sprawling over unnecessary minutes. Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck (who also directed) have a story to tell, and they are not screwing around. Time goes into smart camera work, perfect pacing, and clever plotting. Nothing too Hollywood happens, allowing the story to maintain a realistic, even documentary edge.

That edge is carried over to the performances, especially those of the two leads. It's easy to forget that Gosling and Epps are acting, given how raw they play it. Gosling is a rare firecracker whose lean good looks never hold him back from hitting the emotional underbelly in his characters, but it's Epps that will capture the audience's heart. Her toughness isn't put on; it's the product of hard earned everyday lessons that occur outside the classroom. When you see the vulnerability of her youth, despite her intelligence, it's heartbreaking.

One minor thing: I didn't always jive with Broken Social Scene's dissonance.

Otherwise, a dream of a movie. A

I've tried other cocoas, and this one's the best!

 

What? The Truman Show is hilarious.

 

The point being, of course, completely unrelated: If you reside in one of the areas affected by this test deal, please take advantage of it. Not because I think you should line the studio's pockets, but because if it's successful, it will become permanent. And if that happens, other chains would be forced to adapt. C'mon, people! Don't you want cheap Tuesdays back?

The 50 Best High School Movies

 

While I would have shuffled a few titles around, I concede that this list is one of the most insightful and sweetest I have ever read. Some of the titles are among my personal favourites. What can I say? There's never going to be a day in your life when you forget what it was like to get older in tiny, significant increments.

The Last Kiss (2006)

Idea: Twenty-nine year-old Michael's (Zach Braff) life feels pretty planned out: he works at a great architecture firm, he's still friends with all his pre-school friends, and he lives with his pregnant girlfriend (Jacinda Barrett) of three years. Naturally, he meets a cute co-ed (Rachel Bilson) and starts having doubts about where his life is going. Meanwhile, in sub-plot-landia, Chris (Casey Affleck) is considering leaving his wife (Lauren Lee Smith), although he doesn't want to leave his toddler behind; Izzy (Michael Weston) can't win Ari (Marley Shelton) back, so he's heading to South America; Kenny (Eric Christian Olsen) may have found a girl worth more than a one-night stand; and Stephen (Tom Wilkinson) and Anna's (Blythe Danner) relationship is headed for rocky road.

Although I cannot find any proof of my conviction, I am certain that The Hater made some crack about this movie being a run-of-the-mill can't commit movie with a patina of Garden State to make is seem worthwhile. I had no idea how right she was until last night. In fact, she's not enough close to being right.

This movie is crap. Absolute, fucking crap. So little in this movie is genuine. And I realize that some people would tell me that asking for something genuine from Hollywood is asking too much. Listen, those people, something like that is pretty much all a movie like this has going for it. Something genuine, something true to life that the audience can connect to. Not something that the 14 year-old girls sitting behind me who had never been out in public before, much less to a movie before (Audible stage gasp "Do you think he's going to? Omigawd, he did!"), would swoon over. There were multiple points during this movie that I reached over to grab my purse and leave, remembered that I was with three other people, and settled for a full-on eye roll instead.

Most notable point? The fucking narration at the beginning of the movie. Does it ever reappear? Nope. Not a once. Is it in anyway necessary? Not really. Most of that could have been worked in as exposition, and the rest would have worked better as part of the dialogue that occurs later in the movie. Instead, you have to suffer through its "feeling"-ness. Shut up, shut up, Paul Haggis. You are making me sorry I ever touted the genius of Million Dollar Baby. I hope you are happy with yourself. Knowing you are involved with Clint Eastwood's latest movie is making me reconsider seeing it as well.

Shut up about women. Apparently, there are only slutty, shrewish and/or pathetic women in your world. My world is a bit more diverse, but let's look at yours for now. 98% of women, and I'm being generous to you here, Paul, 98% would walk away when they found out the object of their affection had a girlfriend. Esp. if they learn that fact at the first meeting. Don't get me wrong -- Michael misleads Kim in a lot of ways, but he cops to that one pretty quick. Their every interaction after that fact comes off as false. This is largely based in the way Kim in written and in the fact that Bilson doesn't have the acting chops to redeem her in anyway, but everything out of Kim's mouth and all her actions were so pathetic and unconnected to way that real women act as to be a farce.

Shut up about men while you are at it. If you want to see an example of men's relationships done well, watch any episode of Rescue Me. That show, too, short-changes women, but it nails male interaction bar none. As much as I have enjoyed Braff if the past, he, too, doesn't have the chops to rise above the mediocrity he is surrounded by. Mind you, he's not so bad since he gets to play pretty much the only fully fleshed character in the movie, but it's still pretty sucky.

Can I tell you guys something? I loves me some Casey Affleck. I want him to be my boyfriend. He's broody without being dark (a rare feat), and Chris is a grown-up who makes decisions and lives with their consequences. Because I am old, I find that dreamy.

To be honest with you, I mostly wished that Affleck and Wilkinson had a better movie to be in. I hope they find one. D-

Little Miss Sunshine (2006)

Premise: Runner-up regional winner Olive (Abigail Breslin) gets a chance at the national Little Miss Sunshine title when the winner is involved in a diet-pill scandal. The entire family accompanies Olive on her trip across the country: Mom/Sheryl (Toni Collette), who keeps the family together with fried chicken and new age platitudes; Dad/Richard (Greg Kinnear), who is desperately trying to turn his nine step self-help program into a book; brother/Dwayne (Paul Dano), who has taken a vow of silence until he achieves his goal of becoming a test pilot; uncle/Frank (Steve Carrell), who recently attempted suicide after his lover leaves him for his academic rival; and Grandpa (Alan Arkin), Olive's choreographer, who snorts heroin and swears like a sailor because "[he's] old."

So, in other words, everyone is forced to come along with her because of contrivance. There were a few moments in the beginning of the movie where I rolled my eyes at the over-the-top quirkiness of it, but you sort of fall into a lull after a while and start to enjoy it. Plus, Carrell is really, really good in it. Technically speaking, everyone is really good in it -- it's the quality of the performances that elevates the piece above the trappings of the script. I have to single out Carrell, though. That deadpan? Those dead-eyed looks? That nerd run? Fantastic.

By the time you get to the completely ridiculous, completely unearned, completely hysterical climax, you've been won over. Like the beat-up VW they drive, it's slow to start, but there's no stopping it once it starts humming along. Husband and wife directing team Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Ferris keep a tight reign on newcomer Michael Arndt's screenplay, and the viewer is the beneficiary. A-