I'm sure I look much worse in the flamboyant Technicolor of your imagination than I do in the austere black and white of television.

Why do some people insist on making movies in black and white when we've had colour technology for decades? I'll tell you why. Read my latest Culture article and find out.

Pop Culture Round-Up

Even in interviews where he's being kind of a dick, I still find him charming. It's humanizing, don't cha think?

What an ingenious little feature! I don't even care that I've never read the book, I liked reading it so much.

A nice primer for a show that, I don't mind telling you, is awesome.

“Is this a strike or a social event?” Why choose?

“Someone is probably weeping after watching my performance." From joy? 'Cause of the awesome? Let's hope.

For a column built on snark, I do hope I get to see this pic.

No Country for Old Men (2007)

Premise: While out hunting, Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin) finds a mess of dead bodies, several kilos of heroin, and two million dollars. He takes the money, attracting the attention of the local sheriff (Tommy Lee Jones) and a ruthless killer (Javier Bardem).

This marks the third movie in which I have seen Brolin this year. In the first two, he was delightfully, endlessly greasy. To be quite honest with you, I'd be alright with it if that was all Brolin had to give. He could show up, grease away, and be done with it. I'd ask for nothing more. But then here he is, giving me so much more. So much more I can hardly take it. Llewelyn's not the best guy (he takes the money, after all), but he's not the worst either. His interactions with his wife are hilariously offbeat, his conscience gets him at the worst of times, and he's surprisingly inventive. Brolin succeeds in not just making Llewelyn a strikingly realistic screen presence but someone whose friendship you wouldn't mind having. Considering he does all this with extremely limited dialogue, it's nothing to shake a stick at.

Indeed, writing and directing duo Ethan and Joel Coen, working from the novel by Cormac McCarthy, make this movie as silent as the grave save for ambient noise. The dialogue is slight and infrequent, the movie nearly scoreless. Long shots of men walking through the desert are met with no swelling score, only wind and the crunch of sand and rock. It's beautiful, naturalistic picture, and the lack of a score only adds to its power. For, in a filmography littered with classics, this offering may well be the Coens' materpiece. Their choice to rely heavily on ambient noise ramps up the tension in a movie that does not bring you to the edge of your seat. Oh no, you are plastered to the back of it, weighed down by the intense atmosphere of its imposing terror. You sit stock still and barely breathe.

Assisting in that terror and tension is Bardem, whose Anton Chigurh brings new meaning to the term 'casual menace.' As Chigurh, Bardem is downright nonchalant in his murders and a complete mystery in addition to that. It's a wonder that one man can be so perfectly indifferent to his work and yet have such a dedicated work ethic. And when that work is murdering any number of people in pursuit of stolen drug money, it's chilling.

Jones' Ed Tom Bell is as much a framing device as he is a character, opening with a monologue, then disappearing, then returning later on to observe, it would seem, the cat and mouse game between Moss and Chigurh from the outside. Even so, Bell is a fully realized man in Jones' care, weathered and world-weary but still upright. His final monologue will bring you to your knees.

Ingenious, thrilling, and sometimes playful, this Coen picture is not to be missed. A

Pop Culture Round-Up: Another, slightly less forgotten edition

I've been falling behind on my pop culture reading of late, but I do have a couple of items of note.

The beginning of something that had the potential to be worth talking about.

"Please keep out of children." -- On a butcher knife. And that's only my favourite so far!

An hilarious childhood story and a dreamy photo gallery? Happy days.

'Natural charisma' indeed.

Not the final word, but one worth thinking about.

Have fun at work.

American Gangster (2007)

Outline: After the death of his boss, Frank Lucas (Denzel Washington) seeks to take his position in Harlem. With the help of a cousin stationed in Vietnam, Lucas sets up a pipeline to bring pure heroin into New York. At the same time, Richie Roberts (Russell Crowe), a New Jersey cop whose honesty has bred distrust among the force, is selected to run an elite drug squad. His investigation slowly brings him to Lucas as Lucas climbs higher and higher in the underworld.

Although I am certain I read it in the AV Club, I'm not sure exactly where. I can't even get the wording right to find it again. Suffice it to say that somewhere, someone in the AV Club made the trenchant point that because the Western movie is such mined territory and because there are so many quality Westerns out there, any new Western has to justify its existence in order to matter. Why do we need another Western? The same went for the gangster pic.

That sort of stuck in my head, and I started wondering about why we need American Gangster as I sat in the theatre. I'm not quite sure, to be honest. It benefits from being based on a true story, as well as being the first movie to portray this particular story. It also benefits from having a spectacular supporting cast with wonderful turns from the quiet, charismatic Chiwetel Ejiofor; the greasy Josh Brolin; and the underused and underrated John Hawkes. That's only the tip of the iceberg.

It benefits greatly from Washington's restrained performance. Lucas is smart and a charmer, but he's got the coiled danger of jungle cat behind that mega-watt smile. Steven Zailian's script, from an article by Mark Jacobson, is smart about who Lucas is, and it isn't afraid to let who he is to his family butt up against the consequences of what he does.

Unfortunately, the script works too hard to set up Roberts and Lucas as balancing opposites. Nearly everything that Lucas says or does finds its equal and opposite reaction in Roberts: Lucas recruits his brothers, Roberts recruits in a bar; Lucas dates and marries one woman, Roberts is a divorcé with a string of women; Lucas sits down to massive family dinners, Roberts mashes potato chips onto tuna salad. The only thing they have in common, it would seem, is their commitment to their jobs.

It's actually a great idea for the script to keep Lucas and Roberts apart until a handful of back-to-back scenes near the end. It's just too bad it takes so long to get there. Even so, it's spectacular to watch even if they don't tear into each other. It quiet and rhythmic, and you can see how things would be different if they knew each other under other circumstances. It's a little like the diner scene in Heat, and a lot more powerful that you would expect from a situation that's free of histrionics or mugging or monologues. Just two predators of a different sort, sniffing the air for danger.

For, indeed, Crowe also gives a fairly restrained performance. Roberts is also smart and charming, and he is also dangerous, but he is more languid about it because he has to be. He's on the opposite side of everyone, it would seem, from dirty cops to criminals to his own family, so he's got to pick his moments even more carefully than the patient Lucas.

Director Ridley Scott deserves some of the praise for bring these two under control, as I have seen over-the-top performances from both in the past. But I also know he deserves some of the praise for making this movie too long and for hiding that Grain Train Robbery homage until the end. And if it weren't so long, the rest of it wouldn't really matter. B+

Just want to do something special for all them ladies in the world

So People has done us their yearly favour of taking the guess work of the subjective. Yes, they are once again telling us which men are sexy. Thank goodness we've got you, People. And, as has become my tradition, I will break down the list for you into a true-false kind of situation.

1. He can be, although that picture doesn't really show it.
2. Again, he sure is, but I find that picture strange as well. He seems a little sad. Maybe 'cause his character sucks.
3. I know some people think so. That picture is riot.
4. Accepted as cannon.
5. Hmm. I like that as a choice.
6. Hells ya.
7. Hells ya again. He's one of the best parts of that show. Well, not the uncomfortable physical chemistry between him and Emily VanCamp, who plays his half-sister, but still. Hotness.
8. Yup, although, again that picture doesn't really show it. What's with the photo selection this year?
9. He is, and good for them for saying so.
10. In point of fact? Yes. In that quote? No.
11. I would have gone with the other one, but that's me.
12. No for many reasons, including that photo and that quote.
13. Yup, even if I've never seen that guy before.
14. No, and the photo has changed since the first time I flipped through. This photo's a little better, though.

Let's see. That's 7.5 out of 14. Is that the best ratio ever? Let's check. It is! Well played, People. And men. Don't forget them men.

The Darjeeling Limited (2007)

Brief: Having not spoken to his younger brothers in the year following their father's death, Francis (Owen Wilson) invites Peter (Adrien Brody) and Jack (Jason Schwartzman) on a "spiritual journey" across India, although Francis conceals from them the real reason for this particular destination.

Caution! Impossible to discuss without at least one spoiler!

This is a tricky one. My viewing partner and I fairly obviously thought this movie was a lot funnier than our fellow theatre goers. At the same time, it's not exactly your standard Anderson fare. There are no indicators of the passage of time, no tight shots of of various objects on a shelf or in a drawer to divide the vignettes. This movie, co-scripted by director Wes Anderson with Roman Coppola and Schwartzman, is a lot more openly sexual* and a lot more openly emotional than his previous efforts.

*Special mention goes to the excessive use of the term "hand job" in Rushmore. Also with Schwartzman as the sex symbol, which I understand some people found odd. I don't really get that.

It's still a pretty good movie. I kept my expectations low because I was under the impression when we went into the theatre that there was something wrong with this one. If I had to guess, most critics (or at least David Edelstein and Liz Penn, who always get worked up about this very thing) took umbrage with the fact that the movie kills a nameless Indian boy for the sake of the emotional development of their protagonists, the same overgrown, obsessive man-children that populate Anderson's oeuvre. If the cast hadn't played it so well, if the story hadn't set this particular tragedy in the midst of a year long break down, I'd probably be more pissed than I was.

To be honest, a lot of the misgivings I had evaporated because the principal cast worked so well together. Wilson and Schwartzman are both old hands when it comes to the particularities of Anderson's bubble, and I was surprised at how well Brody fit in. There were a couple of times when his more actorly nature seemed to be struggling against the Anderson patter, but he showed a deft comedic talent that has been overlooked in the past. Besides, he looks great running in slo-mo in a well cut suit.

Speakin of, what was up with the costuming? A fair number of articles before the movie came out made a big deal out of the Marc Jacobs for Louis Vuitton luggage (which was actually pretty cool looking, I won't lie). Recognizing that the voluminous number of pieces they were each carrying was symbolic**, why oh why didn't they have more clothes? These guys each had one impressively cut suit (not that they didn't look great) and one set of pyjamas each, and that was it. Weeks abroad and no changes of clothes? What the hell were they carrying around in those things? (I know what I wrote in the fake footnote but even so).

**Of their emotional baggage. No, no, I know. Listen, just go with it, okay? It can be pretty funny sometimes.

Despite what I read in that Slate article a while back, I am going to have to agree with whoever (possibly the article's author) said that Anderson uses his characters' casual racism to criticize them and the privileged world from which they come. When Peter remarks that he likes India because it smells spicy, he's meant to sound ridiculous. It supposed to be stupid for them to think they could fly off to a foreign country and experience something "spiritual" just by virtue of being there. Of course they do, but it's entirely by accident.

The movie's kind of slow and strange, and it's definitely farther off course that Anderson has ever gone, but it's got a slow charm that will keep you smiling at unexpected moments long after the credits roll. Sometimes, that's enough. B

I told you. I said end of the world. And you're like, "Pooh-pooh, Southern California, pooh-pooh."

Don't pooh-pooh the Apocalypse, too. Read my latest Culture article and get the 411 on how it's all going to go down. Well, in movies anyway. No guarantees.

Michael Clayton (2007)

Story: When the litigator (Tom Wilkinson) from his firm representing UNorth in a massive civil action suit has a public break down, the firm brings in Michael Clayton (George Clooney) to fix the problem. UNorth's chief council, Karen Crowder (Tilda Swinton), is less than impressed with Michael, informing his boss at the law firm (Sydney Pollack) and planning to take matters into her own hands.

I bet you're thinking, "Dude, I still don't get what this movie's about. Also, when does that car blow up?" Right away, my friends, as writer-director Tony Gilroy uses JJ Abrams' favourite trope (dropping the viewers into the middle of the story then backing up a few days to find out how we got there) to his peril. We spend far too much time going back over that part of the story, and our only comfort is that we spend slightly less time with the screeching lunatics he meets in the first few minutes.

A few weeks ago, Kim Masters wondered why this movie isn't doing so well in theatres (although, I will note, it appears to have done better since that article was posted). The first point, that it's Clooney, makes some sense. People like Clooney the man but Clooney the actor is another story. The second point, that it's the marketing, makes a lot of sense. I had no idea what this movie was about until I sat down to watch it. The third point could be the subject of a far more interesting article, so let's leave it for now.

Let's debunk the second point by spelling out the plot in a way no commercial is interested in doing. Arthur Edens (that's Wilkinson) is the sole attorney representing UNorth for this law firm, and he knows that UNorth is guilty. Among their other interests, UNorth is responsible for a fertilizer that poisons people. Of course, this is one of the problems with the plot of this movie. We know, almost from the beginning, that UNorth knowingly put on the market a fertilizer that was poisonous. There is no ambiguity on this point nor is the decision to sell it linked to any human. Of the four signatures on the internal document that proves that UNorth knew about the lethal nature of their product in advance, we meet exactly one man, and he has maybe, maybe five minutes of screen time out of the 119 minutes we spend with this story. Of course, that man isn't our eponymous protagonist, so we aren't likely to get any better.

Michael Clayton is our hero, and this is his story. The poisoning of hundreds of farmers is secondary to the slow awakening of his conscience. It's not that that, on its own, doesn't make for an interesting story. It surely does. It's that Michael is so laden down with extraneous subplots that are meant to showcase how ripe for reformation he is that you get bored getting there. Of course he's going to repent. He couldn't get any worse: bad relationship with his kid; bad relationship with his ex (who has, naturally, remarried and had another kid to make sure we understand how well adjusted she is); neglectful of his family, including his dying father; gambling addict; in debt, but no, not to a bank like a normal person, to a loan shark; no significant relationships outside of work; no real relationships at all except with Arthur, a manic-depressive off his meds. Michael's like Harvey Kietel in Bad Lieutenant only self-serious. Even so, Clooney makes Michael's transformation almost entirely* believable, and it's also fun to watch him charm or growl, as the situation merits, on screen.

*There is one scene that strained my credulity so far as to cause me pain, in which he confronts Pollack about the possibility that UNorth is guilty. He's holding the evidence in his damn hand, but he's still asking. Do you think the case would have reached 30 000 billable hours if they were innocent?

Sadly, neither the dullness nor the sheer volume of subplots are this movie's greatest failing. That award is reserved for the movie's latent sexism. There are exactly two female characters of any significance in this movie. First off, we have Karen, chief counsel of UNorth. When we first meet Karen, she's having a sweaty melt down in the bathroom. It never really gets better for our girl. She's shown as nearly pathologically desperate to handle the situation that arises from Arthur's breakdown in order to impress her male mentor and keep her job. Said job calls for difficult and immoral decisions, which the script does not see fight to give Karen the sangfroid to make. Instead, she is constantly on the verge of tears or falling to pieces over things that Gilroy makes abundantly clear Pollack or even Clooney could do without batting a lash. More than once we see her laying out her outfits and putting herself together in the morning, practicing a speech for a meeting or sound bytes for an interview. The only time we see any male character in such a state of disarray is Arthur during his mental collapse. Unlike the rest of the leads, Karen doesn't have a home but a series of hotel rooms. She's the only one who works out, and she does work while on the treadmill. The only female lead is riddled with flaws and given no redeeming characteristics.

She is, naturally, "balanced" out by the virginal Anna (Merritt Wever), a twenty-ish daughter of one of the victim's of UNorth who has never left the farm. The one and only time she does, she brings pastel, floral pyjamas and has a stuffed animal strapped into her suitcase. One's a mess, and the other's infantilized. Thanks, Gilroy.

That said, I still like both Wever and Swinton, who knocks it out of the park every time anyway. It's shame, though. She does sangfroid really well.

Mostly, though, it's just boring. If the leads weren't so good, this movie wouldn't have anything going for it. Oh, and all that good stuff from the preview? From the last act. Good job, marketers! C

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007)

Premise: On one of his last heists, Jesse James (Brad Pitt) accepts Charley Ford’s (Sam Rockwell) younger brother Bob (Casey Affleck) into his gang, despite the objections of Jesse’s older brother, Frank (Sam Shepard). Winter falls and sends the gang into hibernation, where Bob’s sycophantic obsession with Jesse festers into something more sinister.

I’m just going to go come out and say it: this movie’s not for everyone. It’s slow and atmospheric, full of forbidding landscapes and weighty narration. It’s a little like being caught in dream conception of the famous outlaw and discovering it’s a nightmare from which you can’t wake up. You can only ride it out.

It’s not so much a movie as it is a wrestling match between Pitt’s Jesse and Affleck’s Bob. Every time you think you have a handle on which of the two, if anyone, is the coward, the movie shifts focus yet again to pick up another facet of the story, another part of their twin personae.

Invoking Terrence Malik on his best day, director Andrew Dominik, working from his own screen adaptation of Ron Hansen’s novel, has created a world that’s not so much murky as it is relentlessly grey. Roger Deakins’ cinematography captures the stark, cold winter landscapes and the dull, overcast days that follow the snow to great effect. The world around these men is a reflection of the internal, seemingly empty with great dark forests at the edges. Combined with Nick Cave and Warren Ellis’ circular and moody score, the movie manages to take the oppressiveness that comes with a long, cold winter and apply it to the character’s psyches.

There’s a lot of great supporting work from the aforementioned Shepard and Rockwell, as well as Jeremy Renner, Garret Dillahunt, and the thoroughly creepy Paul Schneider, but this is really the Pitt-Affleck show. Pitt has grown from the pretty boy we first met into a far different man. The first shots we see of Jesse, standing alone in a wheat field, his face looks weathered, haunted, and handsome in way it never has before. He’s both snake and snake charmer, coiling around his prey to choke the hero worship out of Bob, only to demand it back again. It’s a difficult and nuanced performance, sad and strange, one that Pitt handles with aplomb.

He’s perfectly matched in the slight, pale Affleck. From his hunched shoulders to his wheezing laugh to his shortness of breath is almost every situation, Affleck is exactly what you would expect a coward who shot his boss in the back to be without ever actually being a coward. Affleck’s Bob is perfectly aware of his actions but detached from their consequences. He’s too young to see the bigger picture, and it is in that lack of experience that Affleck soars. It’s a wonder that he can draw me in with his maturity in other roles and still make me feel sympathy for the inevitably of his immaturity here.

Meditative and heavy, aided by Hugh Ross’s insightful narration, the slow pacing in this movie will probably put a lot of people off (like, say, those that left the theatre when we were there). If you stop fighting it, though, it will draw you into its haunting embrace. A-

Pop Culture Round-Up: The Forgotten Edition

I keep forgetting to post this, but it's here now.

See? See what I mean?

"I am hoisted by my own petard!" Someone should definitely buy me Inside Inside for Christmas.

Hee! "Instead of a laser-focused obsession with revenge, violence, magic, guilt, dragons, 'papes,' or other such ephemera."

Strange piece about a strange guy. And check out this photo gallery as well.

Just so charming in interviews, I tell ya.

Adorable.

Aw! That show ruled, you guys.

Collect your picks for your Hallowe'en movie night, and learn what inspired Hostel at the same time.

Gone Baby Gone (2007)

Premise: After her three year-old niece goes missing, Beatrice McCready (Amy Madigan) hires a pair of detectives, Patrick Kenzie (Casey Affleck) and Angie Gennaro (Michelle Monaghan), to help out with the "neighbourhood aspect" of the search. Patrick and Angie encounter equal measures of difficulty in trying to get the mother, Helene (Amy Ryan), the uncle, Lionel(Titus Welliver), and the cops (Morgan Freeman, Ed Harris, and John Ashton) to cooperate until their search turns up a suspect.

Right before we got to the theatre yestereve, it turned out that we were not decided about what movie to see. One person did not want to see this movie at all, in fact. She thought it looked like a TV movie of the week. Instead, she went to see Into the Wild while the rest of us stuck to our guns. She missed out.

A tense thriller has one of two effects: 1) you feel completely drained afterwards or 2) you get an adrenaline rush from the pent up anxiety. Fall movies tend to fall into the former category, so it's a pleasant switch to see one that not only falls into the latter but is brilliant all the same.

Congratulations, Ben Affleck, on your directorial debut in a motion picture. Based on Dennis Lehane's novel, the screenplay B Affleck co-wrote with Aaron Stockard is a work of genius, managing bon mots without making them seem overwrought or out of the ordinary for the working-class characters. I got a little nervous during the opening narration (my aversion to voiceovers no secret from you, gentle reader), though it ended with one of my favourite bits of scripture. It turned out to be a clever use of voiceover, for the most part, giving us exposition while keeping the camera and the action moving forward and away from the conversation instead of forcing to sit with a bunch of talking heads. Wonderfully comfortable in a return to his own working class Boston roots, B Affleck's direction is assured and insightful, although he could stand to lay off the close-ups. Even so, this picture shows a tremendous amount of promise.

I read that Angie is based on Lehane's own wife, and I hope not for her sake. Much like with We Own the Night, the main female drew the short straw for characterization. You know that part at the end of Mystic River (another of Lehane's novels) where Laura Linney's character goes all Lady Macbeth out of nowhere? Monaghan's Angie is an extension of that moment, but it builds a lot more slowly and works within the character. Nonetheless, her tendency to jump to conclusions and her desire to pressure her partner into decisions outside of his comfort zone didn't line up with what we knew about her. And, if she was from around there, as is suggested earlier in the movie, why doesn't she have the same understanding of the neighbourhood, the people, much less the accent? As it was with Mendes, it was hard to tell if the blame should lie with the script, the direction, or the actress. I think the answer is somewhere between the three.

Freeman is good, but it's nothing we haven't seen from him before, so let's just leave it at that. Harris, on the other hand, is delightfully dangerous and explosive, in a way that I feel we don't get to see from him often enough. He's the kind of cop that toes the line only so much as he has to because he's seen enough to know when he shouldn't.

Of course the movie, naturally and entrancingly, belongs to Casey Affleck. One of the few actors who can play the maturity and wisdom that comes from experience that makes a man, Affleck owns the screen whenever he appears on it (which is pretty much always, hurrah!) making us feel the weariness that creeps into bones when one is faced with difficult decisions with no right answers. The case's many turns threaten to put his immortal soul in peril, and it's a rare actor who can make that danger resonate without seeming heavy handed or overly religious.

And be scorching hot. Just thought I should add that.

Backed by Harry Gregson-Williams' plaintive, piano-driven score, the Afflecks have delivered a tense and grim morality play. It's one of this year's best. A

Elizabeth: The Golden Age (2007)

Story: Although there is still pressure to take a husband, the Virgin Queen (Cate Blanchett) continues apace, facing rumours of assassination due to an alliance between the imprisoned Mary, Queen of Scots (Samantha Morton) and King Philip II of Spain (Jordi Mollà) and flirting with Walter Raleigh (Clive Owen). As Walsingham (Geoffrey Rush) ages and the assassination plot moves forward, Elizabeth must confront the very real threat of Holy War and the fall of England’s empire.

Once, some of us so hotly anticipated a sequel to a movie we had so thoroughly enjoyed that our enthusiasm convinced a young man who had not seen the original to attend the screening of the sequel. Sadly, that sequel was the second PotC, and the results were lamentable to say the least.

When this movie’s truly spectacular trailer started popping up, again people who had never seen the first seemed more than happy to see the second. Wanting to avoid a PotC: DMC repeat, we spent weeks tracking down the DVD of the original. We watched it, and Blanchett was just as captivating as remembered. And I completely forgot Daniel Craig’s subplot, so it was a pleasant surprise.

By the time this movie was released, the buzz wasn’t good. I haven’t read a review, mind you, but I could tell that the movie wasn’t going to be the glorious epic the trailer had promised. Far from it, as it turned out.

So I tried to keep my company’s expectations low. Unfortunately, I must not have kept my own low enough. This movie is wildly, inexplicably boring. At 114 minutes, it’s ten minutes shorter than Elizabeth: The Virgin Queen and nowhere near as good.

Blanchett displays little of the same fire and vulnerability she brought to the role nearly ten years ago. I think that was likely a conscious choice, as the first movie focused on a woman who abandoned the personal for the sake of the political and the second movie shows the consequences of that decision. Still, there’s a scene late in the movie where Elizabeth has absolutely unseemly meltdown over entirely the wrong thing, and I found myself thinking, “I don’t think Elizabeth would behave this way.” And later still, standing on that ridge in her robe, smiling at the CGI sight before her, “A little too happy.” I realize it might seem overly nit-picky for me to point these things out, but the first movie’s success is a direct result of Blanchett’s flawless performance. A single misstep has the potential to sink the ship. Even so, when she appeared before her troops in armour on a white horse, a fantastic long red wig flapping in the breeze, I thought, “Boudicca.” And really, wouldn’t that be great?

Blanchett’s ever-so-slightly wobbly performance aside, there are plenty of other elements that returning director Shekhar Kapur, returning writer Michael Hirst, and new co-writer William Nicholson manage to make thoroughly dull. The problem, at its core, is that they take on too much. Historical or not, not every plot and subplot improves the story for the viewer, and Kapur’s dreadful pacing helps not one bit.

Walsingham, as portrayed by the inestimable Rush, is the most intriguing carry-over character from the first movie, largely because he’s a mystery. We don’t know how he got that job, why he was in exile, or what motivates him. And that’s fantastic. Now he has a family and relationships. What the crap is that? Walsingham's life should be the subject of an entirely different movie not shoehorned into this mess. By taking away some of the enigma, they’ve taken away part of what made the original great.

The casting/characterization problems don’t end there. Mollà’s infantile take on Philip, scurrying around on reed thin legs, afraid of his own public, and Morton’s unhinged Mary rarely seem like worthy opponents for Elizabeth, although Morton does, oddly, find a scrap of dignity for Mary shortly before her death. Vidal Sancho, as the Spanish Ambassador, is a far more worthy antagonist even with his limited screen time. Owen (an actor so talented he can hold the audience rapt even with a sub par monologue) inexplicably has zero chemistry with either Abbie Cornish, as Elizabeth’s lady in waiting Bess, or with Blanchett. And, while I am not immune to appeal of gorgeous men in period clothes diving into bodies of water*, Kapur’s extended shot of Owen’s swim made it clear that he wouldn’t have known how to handle the battle scene even if he had had the budget to do it properly.

*Click on the right to watch and listen!

While all these flaws do make the movie boring, they also make the movie ripe fodder for a drinking game. Hey, it’s got that going for it! C-

We Own the Night (2007)

Premise: When Joseph (Mark Wahlberg) is promoted to captain and heading up the street crimes unit, he asks his brother Bobby (Joaquin Phoenix), manager of the hottest night club in Brooklyn, to keep an eye on one of his patrons, Vadim Nezhinski (Alex Veadov), the nephew of the club’s owner, Marat Buzhayev (Moni Moshonov). Bobby refuses. After Joseph is shot, Bobby appeals to their father, Deputy Police Chief Burt Grusinsky (Robert Duvall), to let him help bring Nezhinski down.

I’m surprised that this movie didn’t do better (not that it didn’t do very well for itself, especially compared with the release of writer-director James Gray’s last picture) because the screenings were sold out two nights in a row at the theatre I went to this weekend. Even so, I must admit I’m pleased. There are times when you know about an actor or a writer or a director, and they are so good that you know s/he could be far more widely known than s/he is at present. And some of those times, you’re glad s/he isn’t, so you can sort of keep him or her to yourself. Other times, though, you want to share that person, make sure that everyone finds out about him or her, so that person you so admire can get the attention s/he deserves.

Gray is like that for me. I want more people to know who he is and watch his movies because he is a brilliant and underrated filmmaker. Although his focus is on character drama, he is equally adept with action set pieces and positively gifted when it comes to creating and sustaining tension. The feeling of foreboding hits the audience long before we get to the moment when we should really start to worry, and he builds it so slowly you are nearly hyperventilating by the time the action kicks in.

Gray was right: this is a movie about fate with the parable* of the prodigal son as its framework. I think after I post this review and start reading what critics had to say more than a few will complain that the movie has a foregone conclusion. That’s true, but knowing how it will end frees Gray up to explore how each character will get there. Plus, it serves him well not to ignore the role of the older brother. He takes it even further, long past the end of the original story, to look at how the brothers will deal with the situation in the long run.

It is a wonder to see Wahlberg and Phoenix back together on the screen and under Gray’s direction. This time around it’s Phoenix’s character that must deal with the consequences of his inaction, and to see him play than against Wahlberg with Wahlberg as the more upright and the more hot-headed brother is great. They’re both so subtle here: Wahlberg reserved and Phoenix quiet. Phoenix is so quiet, in fact, that I thought he was getting a little carried away with the mumbling until he started enunciating, and I was forced to notice when he started enunciating, realizing that it was a character choice. Phoenix does a lot of subtle physical work here that makes me feel subsequent viewings are downright necessary.

Perhaps that’s one of Gray’s best features as a director. His movies hold up well to repeat viewings because of the variety of characters and facets. It wasn’t until I was going to bed later that night I figured out how the movie dealt with class and class mobility as Dennis Lim had said.

What I still haven’t figured out is Eva Mendes’ character. I think I like her as an actress (or at least I’d like to like her), but she doesn’t have enough of a character for me to sympathize with her as I supposed to. She has scenes with Phoenix that are very sweet, but, by the time she has her inevitable freak out, I found myself thinking, “Really? That’s what kind of couple you are? Since when?” I sadly can’t go into greater specifics without giving too much away, so you will have to see for yourself.

Other than that, the only other flaw worth noting is a cut early on that suggests that the director thinks we’re stupid. It was the exact same thing that they used in Fracture to let us know we’re stupid, so it could have been studio interference rather than a directorial choice. Either way, it was unnecessary, and it makes me want to bump the grade down even more than I already have to over the lack of character for (from?) Mendes. For now, I give it a hesitant A-.

* I had to look that story up to see if it was called a parable. In my first year prose fiction class, my professor used Jesus’ parables to explain the difference between parable and allegory, and I recalled that while they would have been parables to the people who heard them, they are allegories for us reading them because we get the explanations that the disciples got. And that’s one to grown on.

Pop Culture Round-Up

Dennis Lim on James Gray: Mr. Gray is smart and neurotic enough both to complain about being misinterpreted and to know that he shouldn’t.

Vote for yourself, then check out my suggestion in the comments section.

"Director knocks populism, current films" has got to be on the the funniest sub-headings I've read in a while.

"Filmgoers may feel they're in a time warp lately, with movies revisiting what many consider the second golden age of American cinema, if not literally -- they're all set in the present day -- then in style and sentiment." Except that We Own the Night isn't set in the present day, Ann Hornaday makes a pretty good point.

Yay, Crosstalk is back! And they're talking about the only new show I have picked up so far this season: Pushing Daisies.

This isn't the kind of movie that would normally interest me, but the casting is certainly keeping it on my radar.

The rockin' David Edelstein got a blog. I'm glad of it.

Ed. Note: I hope to be back to the business of writing about the movies I've watched very soon. Last night marked my first foray to the theatre and the first new, non-previously-blogged movie I have seen since September 30.

And remember that scene where the guy has sex with the pie? Well, I don't. Because I fell asleep in the theatre.

Hey, you know how you lie awake at night wondering how I would throw a movie night, so you can throw the Perfect Movie Night, too? Wonder no more. Check out my latest Culture article to see all the gory details.

As for next month, stay tuned.

Pop Culture Round-Up

Which list, which list? I like the short one, myself.

You guys really need to take this quiz, if only to find out what I got.

I might be looking forward to one of these, but this quiz is still pretty fun.

Peter Berg continues to charm me.

YES!

Mon meilleur ami (2006)

Idea: Out to dinner one evening, François Coste's (Daniel Auteuil) friends declare that they aren't friends at all - none of them even like him. Stupefied by this revelation, François makes an outrageous bet with his business partner, Catherine (Julie Gayet), to produce his best friend by the end of the month. François discovers in short order that no one he knows likes him, so he enlists the aid of a friendly taxi driver, Bruno (Dany Boon), to teach him the secret of making friends.

What I read about this movie claimed that the superior first two acts were ruined or nearly ruined by the contrivance in the last act. I disagree. The first two acts are so mean-spirited that the contrivance in the third act is a welcome break.

Co-writer and director Patrice Leconte's movie is supposed to be a comedy, but, by making this 50 year-old man's sudden discovery that he is friendless and his attempts to make new friends or reconnect with old ones the butt of every joke, well, there's nothing all that funny about that. There are definitely laughs along the way, but François is such a pathetic wreck that the first half of the movie is mostly sad. It's hard not to feel bad for him, even if he regularly prevents deeper relationships from forming because of how he behaves. It seems that Auteuil specializes in this sort of closed off, successful businessman, whether he plays him for pathos or comedy, but he does it so well that I don't see fit to complain.

Leconte and co-writer Jérôme Tonnerre give François a worthy contrast in Bruno, a man so friendly that it blinds François from seeing that he is equally friendless. The revelation as to why comes in a little late to make a difference to the narrative, but Boon plays Bruno so well that you still say, "Aw."

As for that bit of contrivance, it's executed well and played for laughs, so you might as well go along with it. Sure, it'd be better if the narrative didn't need contrivance to wrap itself up, but this isn't that kind of movie. For all the meanness at the beginning, the movie is sweet and funny enough to prevent it from being a waste of time but not enough of either to get you to care for too long after the credits roll, making it the perfect Sunday afternoon diversion. B

Shake Hands with the Devil (2007)

Premise: Focuses on Lt. Gen. Roméo Dallaire's (Roy Dupuis) time with the UN peacekeepers during the Rwandan genocide.

You want to know the truth? I'm not sure I can write about this movie. I can't find the words to express what Dallaire lived through for those 100 days. I wouldn't have made it through the first day, and he stayed there long after the UN refused to back him up in any way, long after they ordered him to leave. Many of his team deserted. Others were killed or struck down with illness. But he stayed and bore witness to everything the rest of the world was so quick to turn their backs on. And at the end, passed out on that bench or quietly remarking to a therapist, remarking, not even complaining, not even then, that he's failed? Dallaire, how could you have possibly failed? The world failed you. We failed you.

It is a testament to Dallaire's work since he returned and to the quality of the filmmaking here that the movie feels much closer to a documentary than a biopic. It also never turns into hagiography, which would have been the easy way out. Instead, we get fantastic work from the extraordinary Dupuis, who hollows Dallaire out in front of our eyes, never once going for anything showy even when Michael Donovan's script hands him big, meaty chunks. Dupuis always shows Dallaire holding back until the very last, and it is in that reservation that we begin the feel the weight of what he went through.

Expertly filmed on location in Rwanda where possible, director Roger Spottiswoode, cinematographer Miroslaw Baszak, and composer David Hirschfelder work in concert the provide both the most breathtaking and the most painfully intimate view of the country possible. Hirschfelder carries this through not by the overused string section but by largely depending on percussion. His score signals the low rumble of thunder in the distance long before the others recognize the storm that is upon them.

In the end, it would be an understatement to call this movie heartbreaking. It goes far beyond that. It's shattering. A+

Full disclosure: I haven't read the book, seen Dallaire speak, or watched the 2004 documentary, so I can't speak as to how this movie stacks up.

The Short Take: Part 3 + Bonus Explainer

Explainer: I was looking at my labels the other day, and I noticed that I have two that are sort of similar: I saw . . . this and The Short Take. I invented the latter because I had a lot of movies backlogged to review and the former because I didn't have a lot to say about a backlog of movies. Although I'd retired The Short Take in favour of I saw . . . this, I've decided to revive it and make a distinction between them. Henceforth, The Short Take shall be reserved for capsule reviews of non-classic movies that I have seen in the theatre or on DVD, and I saw . . . this for pithy paragraphs on classics if and when I manage to take them in. As always, if I have more to say, chances are you will have to suffer through a longer review.

The Host (2006)

I don't normally go in for horror movies or creature features, but I had heard so many good things about this Korean outing that I hit the Bytowne to check it out. It's a fantastic hor-com that defies a lot of the expectations that I have for either genre: we see a full view of the creature in the first ten minutes, our protagonist is neither hero nor anti-hero, the title doesn't refer to the creature. They also pulled the creation story for the creature from fact, and the monster rarely looks fake (maybe for a few seconds toward the end) and is always terrifying.
All that and a subtle hint at a possible sequel? It all adds up to a funny and scary adventure. A-

Tristram Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story (2005)

I wanted to see this went it first came out because it was so well reviewed (and often on Top 10 lists for the year), but I never got the chance. I liked it a lot, but you have to give yourself time to sit down with it if you are going to catch half of what is going on. Based on what's considered the first post-modern novel (written back before there was a modern to get all post-y about), Laurence Sterne's The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman is also considered un-filmable. Obviously the easy thing to do would be to make it a movie within a movie, right? That's exactly what director Michael Winterbottom and screenwriter Frank Cottrell Boyce did, and it works. Steve Coogan does triple duty as Tristram Shandy, his father Walter, and, of course, Steve Coogan, but his sly humour is well suited to the role. He is only the beginning of the treasure trove of comedic actors this movie offers. If nothing else, see it for the argument Coogan and co-star Rob Brydon get into at the end about who is better at impersonations. A-

Prozac Nation (2005)

I read somewhere that this movie's release was delayed because the protagonist was considered unlikeable. It's not that Christina Ricci doesn't do a great job with the role (she does), but Elizabeth is so cruel and frustrating that watching her self-destruction barely arouses an iota of sympathy. We want to ascribe all of her bad qualities to her illness, but it's up to the script and the actress to make her sympathetic. You can see Ricci trying, but the movie never quite makes
it. As for the title as a reference to some larger idea of the entire country over-medicating, it's the medication that makes Elizabeth tolerable at the end, so . . . it's a good thing? Yay Prozac? That doesn't sound right. D