'Fox' is 'Fantastic'

'The Fantastic Mr. Fox'

Review: 5/5

Wes Anderson should have made an animated film years ago. His penchant for carefully drawn, introspective caricatures is all the more fascinating with a camera that self-reflexively dollies left and right, up and down, in a calculated whimsy that is an exquisite fit in the animation realm. The fact that Anderson chose to use an archaic, stop-motion style of animation that seems entirely out of place given Pixar's ridiculous monopoly on all things cartoon, should be a credit to the auteur's innate directorial sensibilities. He's a well-regarded eccentric, and is one of the best working American directors today... oh, and have I mentioned his new 'Fantastic Mr. Fox' is the most exuberant of all his work? 

The plot and essential themes are those that are familiar to Anderson, given his wholehearted embrace of 'outsider' protagonists who often find themselves alienated from respected social cliques. They also maintain an unusual desire to execute grandiose, hair-brained undertakings that always go awry. 'Fox' is no different. Mr. Fox, voiced by George Clooney, finds himself aging faster than he would have liked, and convinces an Opossum friend of his to burglar a few of the nearest entrepreneurs, Boggis, Buntz, and Bean. Of course, things don't go as planned, and hilarity ensues... I don't mean that in a sarcastic way. I'm being completely literal. It's hilarious.

With original music by Alexandre Desplat (a perfect compliment to Anderson's decidedly idiosyncratic world), glowing cinematography by Tristan Oliver, proficient stop-motion animation, and, of course, a perfectly formatted script that caters to all things divinely atypical, and with a fitting sense of unity and togetherness, 'Fox' is one of the best films of the year. Animated or otherwise.

Economic Stability Still 'Up in the Air'

'Up in the Air'

Review: 5/5

In film school we're asked consistently to analyze films not only formally and aesthetically, but as a representation of contemporary ethnology. How is the film a response or reflection of current societal norms? Does that or does that not enhance the credibility and value of the film in question? Jason Reitman's 'Up in the Air' answers these aforementioned questions, specifically mirroring the disposition of a unified nation confronted with domestic catastrophe. With a tragically comic tone, and brought to mortality by Reitman's expert writing and direction, the film renders compassionate performances from everyone involved, from Zach Galifianakis to George Clooney.

In a narrative almost intentionally written for this era in U.S. history, Clooney's Ryan Bingham plays a selfish businessman who prefers stereotyping to racism. He's lovably detestable as the film's performance centerpiece, whose job it is to terminate employees when their own employers cowardly opt out of the sordid situation. Oh, and he has an unusual affinity for airline food and four star hotels; a faux-reclusive whose insecurities are not restricted only to personal relationships. He intentionally isolates himself, as his job requires that he make no real, human connection. That is, until he meets Alex Goran (Vera Farmiga) who describes herself as Bingham with a vagina.

Bingham's life is that of a corporate gypsy, afraid to accept a reality that may sometimes offer emotional anguish, and instead preferring a sterile existence enriched by the all-encompassing, desolate whites, blues, and blacks that are adroitly observed by cinematographer Eric Steelberg. The soundtrack by Rolfe Kent adds a somber sentimentality to Bingham's odyssey, audibly mirroring the film's narrative arc that affectionately studies one man's disconnection from a world seemingly on the verge of collapse.

Inform the NOK, and Do Not Offer Hugs

'The Messenger'

Review: 4.5/5

Who would imagine the job of the U.S. Army casualty notification officer would consist of so many rules and regulations? Don't touch the NOK (next of kin), don't inform anybody else except the NOK, be on duty 24 hours a day, and beware of the beeper; it's the high-pitched ring of grief delivery. Writer and director Oren Moverman understands these statutes having served in the Israeli Army earlier in his life, and wholly details the heart-wrenching duty the film's primary characters face on a daily basis. These characters, played impeccably by Ben Foster and Woody Harrelson in Oscar-worthy performances, are devoted to their job, and often do it well despite their rabid insecurities and overwhelming anxiety (Harrelson's Tony Stone is a recovering alcoholic who rarely sleeps, and Foster's Will Montgomery suffers from an extreme case of PTSD and survivor guilt). 

To elaborate, Montgomery is a U.S. Army Staff Sergeant who's just recently returned to the states and is considered by many of his peers to be a 'hero' for his service in Iraq. He's partnered with Tony Stone as a rookie member of the Army's Casualty Notification service. Preferring to woo his former girlfriend (Jena Malone, also great), Montgomery frowns at the idea of "grief counseling" until he finds an unusual connection with Olivia (Samantha Morton), a poor widow with a young son. What unfolds is an abnormally upsetting, quietly humorous portrayal of grown men without any family, who build a kind of understated brotherhood out of diffidence and subdued depression. Don't expect any buddy-film cliches here. This one aims for the jugular.

Shot by Bobby Bukowski with a verite'-like grittiness comparable to a heavily sedated ' Jason Bourne' adventure, the film is rendered with a visual sense of authenticity, reminding the spectator that this job is all too real. Moverman knows this, and shows a genuine empathy for his despondent subjects in one of the year's best films.

Simply Put: Great 'Education'

'An Education'

Review: 4.5/5

'An Education,' based on a memoir by Lynn Barber, may appear to be a simple tale of adolescent egotism and ill-placed complacency. Is it? Yes. But with virtuoso direction courtesy of Lone Scherfig, expert cinematography by John de Borman, and an Oscar worthy performance from Carey Mulligan as the film's naive protagonist, 'Education' becomes a quietly iconic, modestly leveled tour-de-force.   

Taking place in Southwest London in the 60s, the film follows teenage Jenny Miller (Carey Mulligan) as she obediently attends private school, and studies Latin as per her father's incessant demands. Why so diligent? Her family, mainly her father (played in another Oscar-worthy performance by Alfred Molina) wants her to attend Oxford, and doggedly pushes her, sometimes against her will. This is all well and good until David Goldman (Peter Sarsgaard) a charismatic, dapper thirty-something charms the young girl taking her to exclusive night clubs, chic restaurants, and Paris (yes, Paris). 

If the formula sounds a bit routine, then maybe it is. If not for the overall formal and technical execution, it could have very well been a mediocre film at best. Instead, cinematographer de Borman exercises a formal depth and erudition, casting the obscure London town in a dual hybrid of stark pastel exteriors and deep gold and blue interiors, which coalesce to mirror a kind of binary state of mind, riddled with the delightful contradictions that are the bases for teenage angst: it's a winning formula on both scales. As is the nearly flawless direction by Scherfig, who directs with a thorough knowledge of her characters and the monotonous world they inhabit (Goldman's attitude towards redemption is brilliantly conveyed as an inhabitant of such tedium). In fact, the same tedium Jenny is struggling to escape. Not to worry. She'll learn her lesson.

Overly Grim 'Precious:' Underdog Story Borders on Ridiculousness

'Precious: Based on the novel PUSH by Sapphire'

Review: 2.5/5

The opening credit sequence in Lee Daniels' 'Precious' is presented over a black screen, scribbled illiterately in what seems to be orange crayon. This brief, maudlin preface whimpers piteously across the screen, blatantly reflecting Claireece 'Precious' Jones' ignorant, subjective view of a lower-class U.S. society, populated by stereotypical caricatures that parade across the screen, gratuitously pleading for spectators' empathy. I recognize that we're in a time of recession, and underdog narratives should be quite the apt societal appeal, but the unnecessary, borderline obscene histrionics that dominate Precious' world reminds the audience that things sure could be worse. Daniels doesn't once ask the audience to admire Precious' dogged persistence, but instead asserts vehemently that you pity the girl and the ludicrous plausibility of nearly every obstacle she encounters.

Consider an early scene during which Precious' evil mother, played by Mo'Nique, rifles a glass bottle at her daughter in the den of their less-than-modest apartment, and screams cruel platitudes in a rant that is overly scripted and probably more articulate than it should be, given the distinctly bleak world that Daniels wholeheartedly invites the spectator into. This early scene firmly establishes the 'evil mother' caricature who's so relentlessly overbearing that her actions and dialogue become progressively absurd and unmotivated. It's seemingly a one-note performance, and Mo'Nique ups the ante with a complete embrace of all things malicious. Her own spectrum of human emotion remains absent throughout the film (until the film's climax, which itself renders a narcissistic, evil Mo'Nique who finally offers some insight into her evil-doing. And how does she do this? By screaming, ranting, and crying, with the malevolence meter cranked to 11). And all the spectator can do is feel sorry for Precious, as she is the target of her mother's misplaced anger (and let's not forget Precious' dreams, which are visited in a flashback-like aesthetic, and boast aggressively poor construction and execution). 

In all likelihood this film will be nominated for an abundance of Oscars given its subject matter and the overtly topical goings-on. Is it the best film of the year? In my opinion: absolutely not.

A 'Carol' for Everyone

'A Christmas Carol'

Review: 4/5

Charles Dickens' classic tale is familiar to anyone who's been witness to countless sitcom and filmic adaptations. Themes of greed, generosity, compassion, and humanity permeate the adage rendering it a universal account of man's deepest and most potent tendencies toward materialism and warns of the remorse initiated by such acquisitive inclinations. That a modern, cinematic telling of 'A Christmas Carol' may seem to be a bit of a superficial undertaking could not be more amiss. The world today stands on the brink of chaos triggered precisely by the fondness for monetary gluttony that Dickens' tale distinctly foretells, and director Robert Zemeckis acknowledges this reality with a visually untamed jolt of 3D fascination, executed with a virtuoso knack for such a groundbreaking technology and a kind of innate aptitude for infusing charm and benevolence into the nucleus of his films' sincere spirit. His version of 'A Christmas Carol' is as true to his voice as any film he's directed, and it boasts not only a thrilling ride through a harsh wintry landscape, but an incredible performance from Jim Carrey as the universally detested Ebenezer Scrooge.

Everyone knows the story. A greedy man is haunted by three ghosts, and offered an introspective evaluation of his life's choices. You know how the story turns out. But that's not the point here. This contemporary remake of such an eternal narrative is timely both technologically and culturally. Never has a 3D film been carried out with such arduous devotion to precision. The camera soars eagerly through Scrooge's past, ducking underneath oak trees, and darting toward and through the starry night sky. A brilliant opening sequence has the spectator dodging Christmas reefs and chestnuts on a busy avenue corner only to swing inside Scrooge's office and land gently on a medium shot of the old hag scribbling away on Christmas Eve, and ignoring his nephew's request for him to join his family for Christmas dinner. Another sequence, featured in the film's trailer, has Scrooge gripping tightly to a brown top and flying, literally, in front of full moon. It's an immediately classic scene that will be remembered for years to come.

Culturally, I cannot stress the relevance of this film. It pleas sincerely for humanity while vehemently renouncing greed and maliciousness. In a country inundated by two partisan media outlets, each verbally assaulting one another in the guise of patriotism, there is not a better cinematic reminder that we are, all of us, easily susceptible to one of the greatest sins known to man, and that we can conquer this propensity with personal reflection, and a firm belief in hope.

 

Clooney and 'Goats': The Only Two Worth Watching

'The Men Who Stare at Goats'

Review: 3/5

It's a bit of a disappointment to label 'The Men Who Stare at Goats' a mediocre outing for director Grant Heslov. The trailers looked promising, the story wildly original, the cast impeccable, so what happened? Subjectively, here are a few theories: 1. the voice-over narration robs the film of its absurdity and relies on such a conventional plot device to further the unusually thin narrative, 2. the script could have used a few revisions - 'Goats' plays like a cliffs-notes version of a film that would have benefited from less montage and narration, and more attention to the bizarre central characters, and 3. the film was rushed into production mainly due to its innovative, satirical interpretation of the contemporary Iraq war. All this aside, the film is enjoyable as it stands, and boasts a hilariously compelling performance from George Clooney.

The film documents 'Daily Telegraph' reporter Bob Wilton (Ewan McGregor) and his search to find a gripping story in Iraq to prove to his ex-wife that he's worth being with. By kismet, he meets Lyn Cassidy (George Clooney) who he persuades into allowing him on a very, very secret mission: to locate psychic-spy founder of the New Earth Army, Bill Django (Jeff Bridges). What is the New Earth Army? What are psychic spies? Cassidy lets Wilton in on this information, and the film plays intermittently by Cassidy's memories, which are narrated by Wilton, and are far, far too short. The comedy never elevates beyond its one-joke premise. Good thing for the filmmakers: that one joke is hilarious (look for a defining scene involving a manipulated Cassidy, and a harmless goat).

Coated in thin yellows, tans, and oranges 'Goats' clearly aims to be lighthearted fare, which, at its core, it's not. This is an unfortunately gentle comedy masquerading as an acerbic social satire - an exceedingly conflicting hybrid that lacks a finite identity. It plays less on the execution of the absurd, and more on the minimal observation of the ridiculous. Comedic timing is replaced with an air of misplaced quandary - jokes fall flat. Good thing Clooney can win a staring contest.