GRAVITY (2013)
In an era when expectations for movies have
sunk lower than ever, the hope of being truly awe-struck by a big-screen event
is pretty slim. But when a larger-than-life yet seemingly possible story is
told well—the last time for me was the apocalyptic “Melancholia”—the results
are an exhilarating cinematic experience. Few films fit that description better
than “Gravity,” the tense space thriller from master filmmaker Alfonzo Cuarón, director
of the best “Harry Potter” (“Prisoner of Azkaban) and “Children of Men.”
Along with cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki
and his special effects team, Cuarón creates the most realistic movie depiction
of outer space I’ve seen, making the vastness tangible and the emptiness
frightening as three space station astronauts repair the Hubble Telescope.
While Ryan Stone (Sandra Bullock), the
civilian scientist of the group, and Shariff (Phaldut Sharma) are doing
repairs, veteran space walker Matt Kowalski (George Clooney) is swapping tales
of romantic conquests with Mission Control in Houston. Walking about in space
seems like nothing special, even with Earth looming thousands of miles below,
until debris from a Soviet missile comes flying toward them.
From that moment on, there isn’t a moment
to breath as the film goes from terrifying to simply exhausting in its unrelenting
intensity. The filmmaking is spectacular, exemplified by a long, riveting shot
that slowly moves toward Ryan and her look of sheer fear until it seamlessly is
inside her helmet and showing her point of view, the reality of her terror. It
is a clip we will be watching for as long as they make movies and is
unquestionably the finest moment in Bullock’s career. Wordlessly, she puts a
face to the unimaginable: alone, in the middle of the nothingness of space, confronting
almost certain death.
There is no point to dissect the plot
further, except to say that the movie’s stunning 3-D images are matched by a
thoughtful, nail-biting, yet down to earth script by the director and his
brother Jonás.
Clooney is entertaining as the cynical,
quietly heroic space veteran, but this is Bullock’s film. Forget her cloying
Oscar-winning performance in “The Blind Side” or all those cookie-cutter
comedies, the acting chops she displays in “Gravity” have rarely been hinted at
over her 20-year career. This is a complex, demanding role and she delivers a
performance equal to the overwhelmingly emotional, thrill-ride of a movie.
Simply put, “Gravity” is something special.
THE LONG VOYAGE HOME (1940)
Watching “The Story of Film,” which I
wrote about at length last month, has reminded me that I should write more
often about the films and filmmakers that modern cinema is built upon. Between
the new releases and older offbeat pictures, I plan to re-watch an important,
must-see film and find something new to say about it.
No better place to start than with John
Ford, the influential director who made at least one (usually more) great film
in every decade from the 1920s to the ‘60s. His works had a major impact on
virtually every filmmaker that followed him—from Orson Welles to Steven
Spielberg. When Welles explained that to prepare for his film debut, “Citizen
Kane,” he watched “Stagecoach” 40 times because he liked “the old masters…by
which I mean John Ford, John Ford and John Ford,” he spoke for all of
Hollywood.
As much as I admire the morality tales of
heroism and the glorious vistas of Monument Valley that marked his Westerns of
the 1940s and ‘50s, it was his pre-war films that are most interesting. He
turned out films of all genres, yet imbuing them all with his innovative style
and emphasis on strong characters, often outcasts who are required to prove
their worthiness.
“The Long Voyage Home,” a magnificent,
underappreciated Ford film, presents slice-of-life episodes about the seamen
aboard the Glencairn, a vessel transporting goods during World War II. The
rogue gallery aboard the ship are led by Driscoll (Thomas Mitchell), the
hard-drinking, fun-loving tough guy who takes no guff from anyone and Yank
(Ward Bond), the equally tough American in a crew of mostly Irishmen who has a
steak of sentimentality in him. Both of these ubiquitous supporting players of
the era do some of the best acting of their career in the film. (Ford often
takes hits for allowing the occasional hammy, sentimental performance to creep
into his films, but he’s also guided some of the most subtle work every put on
screen.)
Based on four short plays by Eugene
O’Neill, the events are mostly small affairs—though at one point they are
attacked by enemy planes—but all go to Ford’s and O’Neill’s concerns: the
working class, the men at the bottom of the (in this case) boat who have few
options in life yet find a way to enjoy themselves and take pride in their
work. The film could be seen as a part of a Ford trilogy of working people:
“The Grapes of Wrath” (1940) tells of those working the land; “How Green Was My
Valley” (1941), of coal miners below earth; and “Long Voyage Home” profiles men
of the sea.
Along with “Stagecoach,” this film is
clearly one of the key building blocks of “Citizen Kane,” as it was the picture
shot by Gregg Toland immediately before starting his collaboration with Welles.
In “Long Voyage Home,” this innovative cinematographer does things that are
equal to or surpass his landmark work in “Kane”; the use of deep focus, unusual
camera placement, continual shots that
allow the action to unfold in the frame, shooting in cramped quarters; and
slow, dramatic panning. More than once, Toland and Ford place the camera on the
deck of the Glencairn, showing the men at the other end while the waves flood
the deck during a vicious storm. Toland’s use of light and the fog makes “Long
Voyage Home” look more like the 1930s work of France’s Jean Renoir or earlier
masterpieces by German’s F.W. Murnau, but nothing like anything being done in
1940 Hollywood.
Ford’s cast, in addition to Mitchell and
Ward, is impeccable: newly minted star John Wayne plays Ole Olson, the Swedish
farm boy anxious to return to the arms of his mother; Ian Hunter as a mysterious
Englishman who is mistakenly accused by his mates of being a spy; John Qualen
as the wide-eyed, talkative protector of Ole; and Barry Fitzgerald and Arthur
Shields, real life lookalike brothers, playing lifelong seamen who have accept
their place in the world.
The weakest act of the film is its last.
The overlong sequence takes place after they put into port at a tavern where
schemers are trying to smuggle drunken men into service on another cargo ship.
It gets repetitive and doesn’t have the poetry of the scenes at sea, but
supplies the film with a poignant, sobering ending that is equal parts Ford and
O’Neill.
Filled with raw emotions and characters
nursing the scars of difficult lives, “The Long Voyage Home” earned an Academy
Award nomination for best picture in 1940, alongside Ford’s better remembered,
more “American” film “The Grapes of Wrath.”
Whether Ford was turning out another popular classic or a less
commercial personal film, he brought a combination of daring visual filmmaking
and cinematic truth in his portrayals of humanity that few directors can lay
claim to.
CAPTAIN PHILLIPS (2013)
How can you beat this combination? This
movie brings together Paul Greengrass, among the most skillful action directors
in the world; Tom Hanks, one of Hollywood’s most charismatic stars; and a
script based on the high-profile 2009 kidnapping of a U.S. cargo ship captain
by Somali pirates. Yet the results are far less stellar.
Hanks plays Phillips, a no-nonsense
captain whose unarmed ship is boarded by four armed Somalis while the boat is
transporting goods down the East African coast. Slick maneuvers by Phillips and
the crew nearly end the standoff, but instead leads to the pirates holding
Phillips for ransom.
The problems with the film begin with the
surprisingly undramatic story it tells.
In part because the conflicting parties are limited by their language
difference, but also because of a lackluster script that does go beyond the
basic plot points, the film remains stuck in neutral for most of its two hours
and 15 minutes.
The second half of the picture focuses on
the Navy battleship and a team of SEALs, who are charged with ending the
international incident. In this section, Greengrass tries to replicate the style
he perfected in “United 93,” his powerful, heartwrenching dramatization of the
events of September 11. Detailing the process and decisions involved in a
rescue operation worked brilliantly when the stakes were enormous in “United
93,” but seems like overkill when dealing with one incident of piracy with
little political or social impact.
Adding to the general flatness of the
film is the casting of amateurs as the Somalis—understandable that it might be
hard to find experience Somali-American actors—who mostly overact and never
come off as dangerous as the film wants them to seem. Hanks is not given much
to do as Phillips, essentially trying to assuage his kidnappers with the
heartfelt sincerity over and over again.
The final act takes at least 20 minutes
longer than it should to resolve the incident and then keeps going with an
unnecessary, somewhat uncomfortable coda.
Loose ends, unsatisfying
characterizations and lackluster dialogue mar the script (by Bill Ray, director
of “Shattered Glass,” working from Phillips’ book) and leave us with a film
that’s all potential and little substance.
OBLIVION (2013) and JACK REACHER
(2012)
Tom Cruise….didn’t he used to be a big
star? I’m far from a Tom Cruise basher—I enjoy his adventures as Ethan Hunt in
the “Mission: Impossible” franchise and admire his performances in “Born on the
Fourth of July” (1989), “Eyes Wide Shut” (1999) and “Collateral” (2004)—yet he
has come to define what’s wrong with Hollywood moviemaking.
Like Hollywood, he no longer needs to make
films that get much of a buzz in this country; any second-rate action movie
with his name on it is a guaranteed international hit. Cruise remains a big
star, just not in his homeland.
His latest, “Oblivion”
is a better-oiled machine than most, but it moves at such a glacial pace that
it’s best to plan a multi-tasking activity while watching.
Set on a futuristic
Earth that we're told has been ravished by a war with aliens, this
introspective film follows Jack (Cruise) and Victoria (Andrea Riseborough) as
they patrol the planet for lingering alien insurrections. Since earthlings have
all been relocated to a moon of Jupiter, I just barely understood why anyone
cared what happened on their former home, now a desolate hunk of dirt.
The
first sign that something isn't right is that the memories of both Jack and
Victoria have been wiped as part of the relocation plan. But Jack keeps
remembering snippets of a former life, which moves into overdrive when space
capsules from a long-ago mission are brought back to Earth. Slowly, very
slowly, Jack learns that he's being used in a big way and that nothing is what
it seems.
Director
Joseph Kosinski, who made his debut with “TRON: Legacy”—another film overloaded
with ideas but confusingly constructed, is working from his own graphic novel
in “Oblivion” yet fails to maintain any sense of pacing or tone. Still the
plot, after it finally kicks in, is involving and there is plenty to like
about Cruise's character, especially when he’s hanging out in his “old Earth”
resort that he’s fashioned for himself.
Touches of “Blade Runner” and old “Twilight
Zone” episodes makes “Oblivion” worth the slugglish start, along with nice
performances from Olga Kurylenko (”To the Wonder”) and the always reliable
Morgan Freeman.
“Jack Reacher,” on the other hand, feels like
a product of the 1980s that should have starred Arnold or Sly. Based on one of
the series of Reacher crime novels by Lee Childs, the film opens with a lone
gunman shooting from a parking lot across the Allegheny River from PNC baseball
park in Pittsburgh and killing five seemingly random people.
Conveniently placed clues (wink, wink) lead
the police to a mentally unstable former military sniper, but once Reacher
joins the defense lawyer (Rosamund Pike, talking and acting as if it’s 1954 and
she’s Doris Day) doubts arise. Reacher is the typical tough guy outsider (maybe
the grandson of Clint Eastwood’s “man with no name”) who is both fearless and
smart as a whip. Other than the always photogenic Steel City and the bizarre
appearance of Werner Herzog as an evil construction mogul, the film is a waste
of time.
At 51, Cruise is at the crossroads of his
career: he either holds on to his action cred until he’s an embarrassment or
shifts into the kind of roles that have made Brad Pitt and George Clooney (both
similar in age and acting ability to Cruise) so successful. But as long as he
pines for those international dollars (Mission: Impossible 5” is in the works),
he’ll become less and less relevant.
SIDE EFFECTS (2013) and
BEHIND THE
CANDELABRA (2013)
The latest efforts from director Steven
Soderbergh could have been packaged as “horror stories of prescription drugs.”
While chronicling the final years of Liberace, “Behind the Candelabra” most
pointedly explores the side effects of the drugs the pianist’s companion Scott
Thorson takes as he goes from beloved to puppet. Meanwhile “Side Effects” goes
straight at the issue, offering a critical appraisal of the psychiatric
industry’s use of prescriptions.
Mara Rooney plays Emily, who, while
taking a new anti-depression drug prescribed by her psychologist Dr. Banks
(Jude Law), stabs her husband (Channing Tatum, star of the director’s “Magic
Mike”) to death. While she gets sent to a mental institute (rather than prison)
because of the drug’s supposed “side effects,” Banks career is ruined as he
becomes obsessed with understanding this woman and how the drug led to her
unconsciously killing her husband. Complicating matters is Emily’s former
psychologist (Catherine Zeta-Jones, who has dealt with depression of her own),
who remains close to Emily.
Rooney gives another complex, intense
performance, proving she’s didn’t just luck into a great role in her
Oscar-nominated “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.” She’s a live wire who, at
age 28, can dominate the screen. Law, who seems to have lost his star-actor status
in recent years, is solid as a sincere doctor who watches as his entire life
collapses around him.
Part social commentary, part old-fashioned
mystery, “Side Effects” may have too many moving parts to be completely
entertaining, but it’s well written (Scott Z. Burns), continuing to surprise
right to the end.
Soderbergh has proclaimed that “Side
Effects,” his 24th feature, will be his final theatrical release.
This pronouncement came around the same time as his failed attempt to sell
“Beyond the Candelabra” to the studios, ending with it being released as an HBO
movie, so I’m not sure how much credence to give his retirement. But I
sympathize with his frustrations: “Candelabra” is more compelling and better
acted than 80 percent of features. Were the studios fearful of releasing a film
with two major stars as gay lovers? Surely, Sean Penn’s acclaim for “Milk”
ended those doubts.
Nevertheless, “Candelabra” is fascinating
look at this popular entertainer, whose fan base (mostly middle-age women)
remained blindly unaware of his lifestyle, even as he goes through a series of
“protégés.” Scott is an unassuming farm boy, longing to be a veterinarian, who
is introduced to the 50something Liberace after a show in Las Vegas. In no time
flat, he goes from admiring fan to the famous man’s lover.
I certainly can’t vouch for the
authenticity of “Candelabra,” as it details Liberace’s extraordinary vanity,
his unreasonable jealousy and the outlandish demands he makes on Scott (at one
point, having him undergo plastic surgery to look more like a young Liberace).
But I can say that Michael Douglas gives an extraordinary performance as
Liberace, nailing the speech patterns and gestures (for those who grew up in
the 1960s and ‘70s, the pianist was ubiquitous on television) and extending the
on-stage indulgence to off-stage. Who knows what the real Lee, as he was known
to him friends, was like—the story is based on Thorson’s book—yet Richard
LaGravenese’s (“The Fisher King”) script rings true.
Douglas certainly would have scored an
Oscar nomination if this had been released theatrical; he did take home the
Emmy for his work. Yet Matt Damon has the tougher role. Scott is a pitiful
figure but also a victim whose sincere love for Liberace is taken advantage of
by the older, privileged man.
This is a blunt, sometimes ugly look at
one of the most famous entertainers of the second half of the 20th
century, yet it never feels unfair or one-sided (except, perhaps, when it deals
with the drugs prescribed to Scott after his plastic surgery). Soderbergh
treats their love as something real, even as it always feels minutes away from
breaking.
Let’s hope Soderbergh isn’t serious about
stepping away from directing: he’s one of the few directors left in Hollywood
who does exactly what he wants and possesses the skills to make films that are
both serious and entertaining.
BEFORE MIDNIGHT (2013)
Richard Linklater is a patient filmmaker.
He waited nine years to continue the story of Jesse and Celine that he
introduced in the 1995 film “Before Sunrise.” This unlikely romance is sealed
in the 2004 sequel “Before Sunset” when the American Jesse (Ethan Hawke)
returns to Paris to promote the book he penned about the couple’s one-day
romance years earlier and he reconnects with Céline (Julie Delpy).
Now, after another nine-year hiatus, the
couple is married with twin girls, having just spent a summer vacation on a
Greek island with Jesse’s son from his first marriage. While their disagreements
at first seem like typical married couple spats, they grow into real issues and
emotional discussions about the strength of their commitment to the marriage.
The script, again by Linklater and the two
actors, is filled with smart, insightful observations on married life,
relationships with children and the nature of men and women, yet it never
sounds like something you’d say. Neither Hawke nor Delpy, both perfect as these
characters in the earlier films, convinced me that they were anything more than
actors reciting lines. Maybe the script is just a bit too didactic to be
authentic or possibly the actors have lost interest in these people, but the
arguments and less shrill discussions never felt real to me. It was all just an
act.
If you haven’t seen, “Before Sunset,”
rent it, but skip the latest installment. In another nine years, I’m counting
on this trio to resuscitate this fascinating project.
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING
(2013)
Nothing appeals
to film critics more than a big-budget Hollywood director who goes slumming
into the world of independent filmmaking. The previously mentioned Steven
Soderbergh and Richard Linklater are prime examples of successfully going back
and forth between these two very different approaches to moviemaking. Josh
Whedon, veteran TV and film writer turned action director for the megahit “The
Avengers,” has countered expectations by directing a black-and-white, unadorned
production of Shakespeare’s “Much Ado About Nothing.”
The results are little more than a
high-end home movie featuring contemporary dress and settings (it was shot at
his home) while retaining the original verse of the Bard. This comedy of
errors tells the story of two couples who come together during a long
weekend at the grand estate of the region’s governor. Here the men are decked
out in expensive suits and seem to be rival businessmen, while the women are
ill-defined objects of desire and little else.
In my sophomore English
classes, I've had students make 10-minutes videos doing scenes from
"Julius Caesar" and the acting wasn't much worse than in this
version of "Much Ado." The film features slightly familiar faces
Clark Gregg (Leonato), Reed Diamond (Don Pedro), Alexis Denisof (Benedick), Amy
Aker (Beatrice) and Fran Kranz (Claudio), who all seem uncomfortable with
Shakespeare's words. Only Jillian Morgese, in her first major role, gives the
impression of understanding her character. Hero, the desperately-in-love young
maiden, is at the center of the play’s plot, the story’s “Juliet.”
Under Whedon’s
direction, the action plods along until the final act of clever revenge against
those who break up Hero and Claudio impending marriage. For much of the movie,
I felt as if I was watching a gathering of soap opera actors making their first
attempt at Shakespeare. “Ouch” is all I can say.
For a much more
amusing and accomplished version of the play, rent Kenneth Branagh’s 1993
version starring Denzel Washington and Emma Thompson.
