'Silence' is Deafening: Foreign Film is One of the Year's Best

'Lorna's Silence'

Review: 5/5

In a scene early in the Dardennes brothers' newest film, 'Lorna's Silence' Lorna, played with a quiet fervor and insipid self-deprecation by Arta Dobroshi, is caught in the middle of her decrepit apartment living room, while her arranged husband Claudy (played exceptionally by Jeremie Renier) pleads with her to help him stay off heroin. She hesitantly refuses, but words do not communicate this altercation. Watch Dobroshi's face as she considers Claudy's request: the spectator can completely interpret what she's thinking as she scans her mind for a sincere, but firm way to respond to Claudy's inquiry. Such is the success of the film, which is part drama, part psychological thriller (an unnervingly quiet thriller shot with documentary-style realism). The Dardennes brothers focus intensively on the character of Lorna, who's caught in a dual lifestyle that slowly begins to corrode while she struggles to live the life she's dreamed of.

The story centers around Lorna and her husband. They're Albanian emigrants in Belgium that maintain an unusual desire to open up a snack shop, but, in order to do so, they need money, and a permanent resident status. An Italian mobster, Andrei, helps Lorna and her husband with this issue, concocting a plan to have Claudy, a heroin junkie, marry Lorna in order to gain citizenship, then divorce and remarry her real husband. Yet, as is obvious, affairs are not carried out in the proper manner. Without giving away spoilers, suffice it to say Lorna finds herself guilt-ridden, spiraling downward into the fringes of insanity. Watching Dobroshi slowly implode, both mentally and physically, is to be witness to an incomparable exhibition of the malaise caused distinctly by various forms of exhaustion. The performance is worthy of an Oscar. She will be nominated.

Much credit needs to be attributed to the Dardennes brothers for creating a tone of harrowing disquiet by utilizing such a limited formal technique. The tension in this film is comparable to that displayed effectively in the Coens' 'No Country for Old Men,' constructed not by a lingering soundtrack or long stretches of dialogue, but by a naturalistic technical style, and, equally, Dobroshi's multilayered portrayal of Lorna, whose gradual decline occasionally results in self-mutilation. That no one involved in the affair bothers to notice the extent of Lorna's desolation, not because they are unconcerned with her, but because her level of hubris is abnormally high, subtly proves her resolute willingness to exert herself far beyond her boundaries to live the life she wants. 

'Whip' Never Cracks: Formula Falls Flat in Drew Barrymore's Directorial Debut

'Whip It'

Review: 2.5/5

Despite the mise-en-scene built entirely of loud primary colors, the great original concept, and the promise of Ellen Page playing a derivative of her delightfully anarchic 'Juno,' 'Whip It' staggers across the screen with an unusual didactic sensibility, thoroughly founded in kitsch. Throughout the film the spectator is explicitly reminded that women are uncompromising in their desires, blinded to the point of intentional stubbornness. What could have been a delicate character study is morphed into a hybrid of childlike decorum and fatuous feminine lament (the dad, played by Daniel Stern, drinks beer and watches football). The result limits the actors to one-dimensional anachronisms required by the film's conventional approach to a non-conventional subject.

Ellen Page plays Bliss Cavendar, a former beauty-pageant participant living in the archetypal small-town anywhere USA where ennui rules and nothing 'cool' ever happens to anyone. Especially poor Bliss who bides her time living through her mother's vicarious dreams for her. Needless to say, when Bliss discovers a roller-derby in a nearby town (Austin, TX), she lies about her age and joins the team. She becomes the star, the team starts winning games, she falls in love, she falls out of love, she upsets her mother with her defiant adherence to roller-derby, etc. You can see where this one's going.

What's most unfortunate, though, is that Page, who is an actress of considerable talent, exhibited in 'Juno,' 'The Tracy Fragments,' and 'Hard Candy,' is limited to a character that has two defining characteristics: indifference and a kind of atypical benevolence that only comes to fruition in the film's last act. This permits Page the opportunity to pout her way through the shamelessly obvious impediments that anyone taking on this new endeavor would very likely face. I wanted to empathize with Bliss, but given her direction to maintain a quiet, bellicose temperament, I became eventually annoyed with her superficial demeanor, even though it seems that Page is attempting, scene by scene, to layer her muted performance.

The film is shot with the aforementioned loud primary colors, which proves to be the filmic equivalent of a moving 'Hello Kitty' bus. It assaults the spectator, reminding us that we'd better be paying attention... or else. The direction by Barrymore is respectable given that this is her first outing in the position. She does come across with a very recognizable visual style, I'll admit, but the film, which attempts to be a punk-rock ode to bored teenage girls in rural towns, makes a cacophonous wail, urging for recognition.

 

 

Style Over Substance: 'Fame' is all Flash

'Fame'

Review: 1.5/5

The general moral that the 'Fame' story seems to posit is that, whether or not diligence grants individually desired results, it is in our best nature to keep going - to move on, to "live forever." In this contemporary reboot of an already popular musical, director Kevin Tancharoen insists that the spectator accept the deliberate lack of story in substitute for disorienting dance sequences, cut together with a ferocious intensity that would have 'Transformers' director Michael Bay inquiring: "What the hell is going on?" The film plays out like an overwrought music-video montage, featuring shallow, stereotypical characters with no depth or genuine insight. But to Tancharoen, that's not the point. Character and story serve merely as a combined backdrop for the wildly choreographed dance numbers, assembling an overly-urbanized atmosphere that deprives 'Fame' of its most profound messages.

The film, which follows several students attending the New York City High School for the Performing Arts - their areas of focus all blatantly complimenting their racial and class status: the Black and Hispanic guys produce Hip-Hop, the goofy Jewish kid writes screenplays, the evidently gay male is a ballet dancer, etc. Why couldn't the Black guy be a ballet dancer? Why couldn't a gay male produce Hip-Hop? I suppose these are unfair questions considering the film prides itself on adherence to formula - the most diluted of formulas, but formula nonetheless.

I don't need to describe where this film is going. If you haven't seen 'Fame' in any medium, just watch the trailer. No surprises here. No attention to story either, which is unfortunate seeing that the drama carries with it such culturally relevant themes of persistence and hope (great themes for a film in a time of recession). That said, it's a bit frightening that 'Fame,' whose audience is clearly the vulnerable child-demographic, contends that the world in urban areas is brimming with cultural stereotypes. And given the continual box-office success of films in this same genre (Step-Up, Stomp the Yard, Take the Lead), these stereotypes are destined to live forever.

Passionate and Devout: An Aspiring Writer with a Knack for Performance

A friend of mine from film school, Ross Everett, has been developing a television pilot for the last few years, relentlessly seeking guidance from our friends and professors in an impassioned attempt to actualize a sitcom that candidly studies the standard post-graduate ambition lost in the banal ennui of everyday life. That sitcom with the inspired title of 'twentynothings' could have been the brainchild of any college graduate that's played 'Guitar Hero' a few too many times. What differentiates Everett is his longing to endure. 

I first read a draft of the pilot my junior year as an undergrad upon his request for criticism, and gave him my honest opinion of the show, alleging that it was an unmitigated achievement for an early draft, before offering my probably too-in-depth critique. He'd forget about the thing anyway in a few weeks, I thought. When I got a call from Everett late that summer before we were to begin our senior year informing me that a staff writer from 'The Colbert Report' had commended his writing ability and tenacious drive, I began to think otherwise. Sure enough, throughout the next year he asked me to read various new drafts of the pilot, which he had thoroughly doctored under the mentorship of one of our more respected professors. That drove home the point: he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.

So it doesn't necessarily surprise me that, during his current internship at 'The Tonight Show with Conan O'Brien,' he found himself climbing the theoretical 'ladder,' even being offered a paying job. Whether or not he accepted employment is unbeknownst to me (I have yet to return his most recent phone call being the dawdler that I am), but I do know that his persistence has lead to, at the very least, an appearance in a recent skit on O'Brien's program.

In the skit, Everett plays a Police Officer (he wields what seems to be a shotgun in the first scene) who doesn't mind enjoying a beer with a few wrongfully accused African-American men - a satire on the Gates/Crowell incident that lead to Obama's inviting both men to the White House for a beer. What proves evident in the brief video is not necessarily how Everett performs - he's pleasantly histrionic beyond all means - but why he had the chance to perform. The answer: tenacity. 

It's an admirable, necessary quality if he is to succeed up to his own particular standards. What he lacks in innate talent, he more than compensates for in determination. But let it be known, should a sensible director put out a casting call, Everett won't be auditioning for the extra with one line: he'll be vying earnestly for the lead. And he'll probably get it. In the meantime, he'll be revising 'twentynothings' until it appears on premium cable.

Check him out on 'The Tonight Show with Conan O'Brien.'

http://www.hulu.com/watch/86200/the-tonight-show-with-conan-obrien-blue-and-black-lager

Humane, Honest 'Happens'

'Love Happens'

Review: 3/5

While a lot of cliches may be derived from the trailers for 'Love Happens,' I am happy to report that, while these trite adages may be comfortably hidden in the film's sub-plot, the principal story is focused on a widower turned self-help guru, Burke Ryan (Aaron Eckhart), and his three-day tenure at a Seattle seminar. Eckhart, on the surface plays the charming, charismatic guru much like he did 'Nick Naylor' in the effervescent 'Thank You For Smoking.' Yet, once the film's first fifteen minutes pass, it becomes wildly evident: this guy has problems. 

The film then delves into a candid psychoanalysis of Eckhart's emotionally tormented protagonist with the genuine aid of Jennifer Aniston's 'Eloise,' a florist with an odd infatuation with unusual language (a brief scene with her utilizing sign language to evade Ryan's passes at her immediately defines this practice). Carried on as one of the film's signature motifs, these unusual words seemingly mirror the metaphysical distance between the two, which tends to, unusually, expand as the film progresses. This is an astute move by co-writer and director Brandon Camp, as it allows the characters to act according to their emotions, and not by the demands of a formulaic script.

The film's standout is Eckhart as a man constantly hidden behind a self-induced facade, and unwilling to come to terms with reality. Eckhart's ability to discreetly transcend emotions of remorse, bliss, rage, and desperation makes the film hard not to watch; it's as if we're witnessing a slow-coming personal enlightenment, and we feel for him. And believe me, he could have easily been written as a detestable character. Again, credit the co-writer and director.

Aniston is essentially typecast as the love interest that piques Ryan's diligent enthusiasm in finding a new love, doing all that is necessary of her character to do. In essence, she hits all the right notes for a film that requires an empathetic supporting character, more 'guru' herself it turns out than Eckhart's 'Ryan.' Martin Sheen, as Eckhart's estranged father-in-law is presented in stereotypical form, until the film's climax when a reversal is revealed, not only layering Sheen's performance, but reminding the spectator that even the most stubborn of humans are compassionate.

The film is cast in grey, white and green tones thereby establishing a dreary setting, dynamic in its sparse beauty; fascinating if only one views it from the right perspective.  

'Body' Works: Writing, Casting, Camp Elevate B-Horror Flick

'Jennifer's Body'

Review: 3.5/5

Screenwriter Diablo Cody's observation of teenage life has a clearly identifiable, jocular pitch; her distinctly idiosyncratic study of high-school deviance is measured in her characters' dialogue, which exists as a kind of glorified misfit banter. While reality assures us that kids between the ages of 13 and 19 are quite often more reticent than Cody's anarchic loquacious types, it's not uncommon for the evil Jennifer in director Karyn Kusama's newest 'Jennifer's Body,' to utter such delightfully abhorrent maxims like: "It smells like Thai food in here. Have you two been f*****g?" Such are the sentiments that enhance Kusama's openly B-Horror shlockfest. That and the inspired casting of Megan Fox in the lead role (a role that will solidify her a depraved cult icon for years to come), and Amanda Seyfried as Jennifer's best friend, Needy Lesnicky.

A film like this could have easily desired to be much more, but Kusama wisely, even devoutly adheres to the reality that this is nothing more than a B-Horror Movie, and with that decision, the film renders itself a highly adept exercise in camp. A scene involving Jennifer making lunch out of a football player classmate (he wears his lettered jacket) and thereafter taking a nude swim in a nearby lake only furthers my contention. When Needy, terrified at her friend's metamorphosis, and shocked that she is after more than just male meat, inquires: "Don't you only murder boys?" and Jennifer gleefully responds, "I go both ways," you get it. The film does not take itself seriously, and requests that the spectator accept this notion.

The film's trailers and overall marketing campaign, which so brilliantly offered minimal plot information and instead glorified the concept surrounding Fox's character, are to thank for the film's inevitable surprises. It is safe to assume, though, that these surprises will satisfy audience members who know what they're in for. Don't expect 'The Exorcist.' You won't get it. What you will get is a deftly written, and sufficiently directed schlock-horror; a decidedly sensationalized portrayal of absurd high-school goings-on. Sure to be a cult classic within the genre. 

(note: look out for a hilarious J.K. Simmons as a naive, one-armed science teacher).

Aren't People with Mental Disorders Funny!?... 'Informant!' Thinks So.

The Informant!

Review: 0/5

Before the opening credits begin to roll, there is a title card presented, acknowledging the approach the filmmakers have taken in interpreting the story of Mark Whitacre, who was the President of Archer Daniel Midland's BioProducts Division while acting as an informant for the FBI investigating price fixing, soon after coming under investigation himself for embezzlement. The card is a supposed plea for clemency, ending with a smug sub-line that immediately establishes the haughtiness and lack of humanity director Steven Soderbergh and his crew took in orchestrating the film. It reads: "So there."  

"So there," as reputable filmmakers, we thought it was necessary to utilize scapegoating as a platform for humor. Mr. Whitacre made obvious mistakes in his life, but we can't forgive him just because he claims to have a mental disorder. It's a bit audacious, sure, to portray him as a hyperbolic 'teen-loser' who has an infatuation with corn - I know, what a moron - but he doesn't deserve justice. People like this need to be laughed at - it's tough love, right?   

"So there," we're going to overexpose the background and shoot with a soft focus because those elements are contradictory, much like Whitacre is with his ludicrous bipolar thing or whatever. The point is, it's motivated aesthetically. Especially for a light comedy like this one - which is what it is. Check out the one-sheet (above). Funny right?!

"So there," we're going to cast Joel McHale, Patton Oswalt, Tom Papa, and Tom Smothers because that way the audience will be sure it's a comedy, and not have to second-guess. Oh, and also we'll cast Clancy Brown. You know, the Warden's Right-Hand Man in the Shawshank Redemption? Yeah, he's hilarious. People will definitely understand it's a comedy.

"So there," we'll use bubblegum-colored title cards throughout the film in a real 70s-like font, that way people will remember they're having fun laughing at Whitacre and all his crazy observations. They're really just so silly, aren't they?  Like when he relates via voiceover in a playfully lighthearted tone, that he thinks FBI Special Agent Brian Shepard seems like a good guy. A nice listener, he says. A guy he could go fishing with. Foolish Mark. He's so off the wall (cue laughter... right?) Well, the audience will know.

"So there," we'll hold the spectators in our US society in contempt for allowing a stupid man like Whitacre to get away with everything he did. We figure the best way to treat people who are soulless and have self-proclaimed "mental disorders" is to position them high on a pedestal and tease them relentlessly until they acknowledge their own idiocy (tomatoes and various other vegetables will be involved in this hazing).  

So there is my review of this repugnant film. It's a dreadful expose' that should appeal to the inner-bully that's nestled at the heart of American idealism. Does this kind of content really amuse people? If so, it's a horrifying reality to acknowledge. Take one more look at that one-sheet (above). "Unbelievable" is right. 

In the 1950s, Women Were Really, Really Daring!... 'One and Only' Trivializes 50s Women

My One and Only

Review: 1.5/5

There is a sordid assertion beneath My One and Only's deliberately ostentatious veneer, manifesting in gaudy costume and set design, all superfluously coated in warm tints and tones; most likely an attempt to emphasize what the filmmakers believed to be a lighthearted, innocuous little film. Director Richard Loncraine's newest film starring Renee Zellweger as Anne Deveraux, a '1950s-woman' caricature who abandons her husband on a whim, abducts her sons (one from a previous marriage) and travels off to, well, who knows. According to Deveraux, "Everything will work out the way it should."

In these first 15 minutes, Ms. Deveraux is portrayed as culturally-defiant, and non-conformist (I would accurately assume the traditional role of women in the 1950s was essentially suppressive - stay home, make dinner for husband, etc). Yet the film then immediately contradicts its initial exposition, focusing on Deveraux and her search for a husband. No longer culturally-defiant, Zellweger's character careens through the film with a calculatedly histrionic Deveraux, affronting the spectator with each supposed whimsical remark and casual flirtation, intent on finding a wealthy man - his personality or type doesn't matter to Deveraux. Only the money.

Okay, okay now I know in the 1950s this may have been a relatively common practice, as unfortunate as that may be. Fine. What the film does wrong is it knowingly misleads the viewer during the film's set-up, and expects the audience to accept the illogical contradiction in the guise of a lighthearted road film. It's almost repulsive (as is Deveraux's treatment of her children - extra baggage in her self-indulgent journey).

Which brings me to another issue. Every potential husband in this film is wildly stereotyped, from the retired military officer who wears his uniform everyday, everywhere, to the mentally handicapped businessman who proposes to Anne. Oh, she just can't win can she? Here's an idea, even if you are going to find a new, rich businessman that you can swindle out of money as your husband: FIND ONE THAT DOESN'T WEAR THE SAME THING EVERY DAY. Why is the spectator supposed to tolerate this blatantly intentional temerity? Shouldn't Deveraux's good senses have kicked in by now? Apparently not. And they never do. 

I won't give away the ending, but suffice it to say, Deveraux is hardly the courageous woman she is initially presented to be.

Giamatti is Great 'Cold'

Cold Souls

Review: 3.5/5

I would venture to say that debut writer/director Sophie Barthes has read a lot of Kafka, considering her 'Cold Souls' assertively deals with existential issues in a trancelike, bitterly humorous manner. The film stars Paul Giamatti as Paul Giamatti, an overly-anxious, self-deprecating actor struggling with a character he is to play onstage. To Giamatti, he is (not his character, but Giamatti himself) emotionally barren, dark, and lonely, traits he almost self-indulgently applies (he acknowledges this later in the film), to the extent that he has his own soul extracted by the highly unorthodox Dr. Flintstein. Eventually he finds himself feeling hollow and empty without his soul, then tries to locate it after it's accidentally shipped to Russia amidst "soul-trafficking."  

The originality of the story aside, the notable standout is Giamatti playing a role he's destined to be remembered for years from now. He's given free reign to locate and manifest almost literally the entire spectrum of human emotion via his character (he goes through a few different souls). Barthes is wise in her direction, allowing the camera to linger on uncomfortably long shots of Giamatti, studying his character's progression, or lack thereof. It's almost cathartic to observe Giamatti vent these emotions after watching his characters struggle constantly in 'Sideways,' and 'American Splendor.' There's a great scene featuring Giamatti at a rehearsal for his play - his first time exhibiting himself without his soul. What comes to fruition in this scene is the near impossibility of satisfaction, or so the film posits.

Stylistically the film adheres to stark greys, browns, and whites that are all the more relevant given that, this being a film specifically focused on Giamatti, they mirror his view of the world around him. As does the camera, formally - the entire mise-en-scene reflects the continually bleak state of mind Giamatti locks himself in, a slave to his own harsh psychoanalysis.

A Statement of Purpose

As I have actively been beginning to write film criticism, it has occurred to me that, in order to honor my individually labeled 'Balanced Film Commentary,' I need to formulate a standard design specifying the basis for my criticism - a design that I may refer to in order to preserve my filmic evaluation as sincere and culturally trustworthy.  Below I have briefly itemized the foundation for what I wish to be a thoroughly genuine avowal of purpose.

My film analysis will be decidedly focused on filmmaking in the 21st century.  No comparisons to movies of other eras will be made because, while genuinely respectable during their time, they echo and relate themes of eras past and it would not be beneficial to subject films of the 21st century to a horde of great films made in recent or aged history.  That said, films will be compared against other films within their genre.  To elaborate, R-rated comedies are eligible to be contrasted with other R-rated comedies, science-fiction films with other science fiction films, animated films with other animated films, etc.  It would not be fair to compare a movie such as 'No Country for Old Men' with, say, 'Wolverine.'  This is a practice similar to the famed movie critic, Roger Ebert.

Yet, what differentiates my commentary from his is this: from my perspective, a movie's worth as a totality is based not only upon the aforementioned criteria, but also on it's reflection and interpretation of contemporary society - depending on the country of origin, the 'society' in question is qualified to waver.

As is obvious, aesthetics, mise-en-scene, and formal and technical execution will also be taken into account.

Please comment and let me know what you think of this proposal.

Woody Harrelson stars in Indie 'Superhero' Flick

That's a loaded article title if I ever read one.  But it's true, Woody Harrelson stars in director Peter Stebbing's new epic parody, Defendor!  It is the director's feature debut, and will premiere at the Toronto Film Festival on September 12th.  From the looks of the trailer, this film seems to pit a delusional protagonist, much like Jody Hill's central characters in 'Observe and Report' and 'The Foot Fist Way,' with an expectant sense of humor (parody, in this case).

Check out the trailer for yourself at ComingSoon.net:    

http://www.comingsoon.net/news/movienews.php?id=58762

For Those Interested in the Classics, Read On...

A recent friend of mine, and soon to be classmate in film school, Alexis Morrell, has published, and continues to pay diligent attention to her blog which is devoted almost entirely to the Academy Award winning actress, Ingrid Bergman.  For those who don't know, Bergman, who starred in various classic films (Casablanca, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, For Whom the Bell Tolls, etc) is a Swedish actress considered to be one of the best actresses of American cinema, according to the esteemed American Film Institute.  The blog is acutely focused on the famed actress, and provides a kind of subjective history of Bergman, told both visually and compositionally.  

A blog like this could have easily been a fanboy shrine for a personal hero, yet Morrell deviates from mere glorification, and instead infuses deep appreciation with individual, yet modest, commentary.  To be clear, it's not written as hagiography, but as independently interpreted memoirs.  

Anyone interested in classic film should take a few minutes and explore this blog...(there's videos!)