Podcasting Them Softly

It’s too good to be true, the mere notion of what Captain Chesley Sullenberger did on that particular day in January 2009, but due in large part to pure movie magic, we’re now able to get a first-hand glimpse of the terror, confusion, heroism, and stroke of miracle that took place on the Hudson River. Clint Eastwood’s bold new film, Sully, is a monument to humble American professionalism, a tribute to a man and to a city in general that feels both modern and old-fashioned in equal and appropriate measure. As written by Todd Komarnicki, the film wisely places a narrow focus on its narrative, never overreaching, concentrating mostly on the immediate aftermath of the event, while allowing for some smart uses of flashbacks in order to bolster the notion that Sullenberger was just about the only man fit for this particular emergency. And of course, the entire film is anchored by the amazing Tom Hanks, who yet again crafts a compelling portrait of a regular man thrust into circumstances beyond his control; this is a companion piece, of sorts, to his intense performance in Captain Phillips, and similar to that great piece of true-story entertainment, Hanks’ confident work informs every aspect of the film, allowing himself to become consumed by the material. What is it like to have 35 seconds to make a decision that will affect the lives of 155 people? What’s it like to sit in that cockpit and see the Hudson River a few feet underneath the gear of the plane? What is it like to be faced with the unprecedented, the seemingly impossible? That’s what’s at the heart of this emotionally gripping and soul-stirring film, and because the ending is a happy one, we’re able to bring that knowledge to the cinema as a comforting device. And yet the film still destroys you on an intrinsically human level, because when you boil it down, any one of us could have been on that plane on that day, making one last phone call or sending one last text message, and coming to terms with our fate.

Komarnicki’s tight script keeps a sense of discipline that feels in line with its subjects; he was able to balance the humanism of the story while still respecting the miraculous nature of the entire event. We’re not hard wired to wake up in the morning, and be expected to glide-land a commercial airliner on a massive body of water. So, it was smart of Komarnicki to let his script document the incredulous responses that waited for Sully after the event. Eastwood’s no frills directorial style is actually more visually flamboyant than usual, with some incredibly bold individual shots, while it’s very clear that he wastes no time with any aspect to the process. And I wish I could understand how the CGI was done in this film. Taking a page out of the Michael Bay playing field of the photo real image, the audience is treated to numerous shots of the plane that you know just can’t be real. And yet in every sequence, it never looks anything but thrillingly tangible; why does this movie look flawless at $60 million when every week some lumbering $200 million+ CGI-laden monstrosity is thrown up on screens looking like Playstation 2 leftovers? And the way that the technicians recreated that chilly morning on the water with wrap around green screens while filming in a flooded parking lot in Burbank with the hull of a plane dropped in the water – utterly spellbinding while feeling totally authentic. I am a firm believer in only doing this sort of effects work if you’re going to pour over each element, each detail. This is something that was clearly done by Eastwood, his estimable cinematographer Tom Stern, and many other visual consultants.

And when it comes to the cinematography of Sully, Stern and Eastwood did something nobody had done before, by shooting in 65 mm IMAX for the duration of filming. The depth of field and striking level of clarity in certain moments is breathtaking. The overcast January skies were perfectly recreated, with an excellent use of desaturated color. This is one of those movies that just grabbed me by heart and mind from the opening seconds (which are startling and absolutely horrifying to consider…) and had me in its grasp for 95 minutes. The fleet editing by Blu Murray, a longtime Eastwood associate, keeps a pace that’s quite different from recent Eastwood efforts; there’s a bracing and direct quality to Komarnicki’s script that’s amplified by the measured directorial style and the extremely precise timing of each scene and moment. And to end the film on the note that it does, well, that moment of levity really hits hard and is a welcome relief from all of the stress and anxiety experienced by all of the characters. It should be noted that Aaron Eckhart is quietly fantastic in his role as the co-pilot; I was amazed by the grace under pressure that both men exhibited during the ordeal, and because this film was clearly designed around lots of research, it all feels totally believable. Hanks should be considered a national treasure at this point, always bringing a steady and sturdy level of gravitas to his roles. Of late, by taking on high profile men of action in films that aim to report the facts, he’s become the go-to-guy for unassuming efficiency with a dedication to doing one’s job. It’ll be a while before I can totally shake this movie out of my system, as the images have seared themselves into my cerebral cortex, and the feeling of overwhelming compassion that one feels for all of the first responders who came to the rescue is something I wasn’t prepared to take on. Recalling Oliver Stone’s vastly underrated World Trade Center, Eastwood’s film pays tribute to everyone who came together on that day, and who helped to save a group of strangers that never expected to be in the position that they found themselves in. Sully is a film that feels vital and important, and a reminder that human beings are still capable of greatness in ways that could never be predicted.

Rating in Stars: **** (out of ****)
Cast: Jesse Plemons, Molly Shannon, Bradley Whitford, Maude Apatow, Madisen Beaty
Director: Chris Kelly
MPAA Rating: NR
Running Time: 1:37
Release Date: 09/09/16 (limited)

Its almost clinical mastery of tone is captured in the opening sequence of Other People, in which the mother of a family of five has, just seconds previous, succumbed to the human curse known as cancer. Her husband, son, and daughters are sprawled across her body, weeping openly for the loss they have just suffered, and then the phone rings. No one, of course, answers it, just as no one would capture this moment with a camera, because courtesy dictates the death must be treated with respect, but it does eventually go to voicemail. The caller is a friend, just checking in after years of not having heard from the woman now lifeless in bed, until the call is interrupted by a menial drive-thru transaction. I’m sorry, says the friend, for the inconvenience of hearing that interaction.

Director Chris Kelly’s screenplay hypothesizes a lot, both good and unintentionally humorous, about human nature in that opening sequence, and he spends the remainder of the film’s 97 minutes, which rewind to the makeshift beginning of the story, confirming those hypotheses. This is a film about the kind of good in people that is inherent, that is not always apparent on the surface, and that is shared by everyone (and anyone) who has had this shared experience. Losing a parent is a universal occurrence, except that for David  (Jesse Plemons) it comes as just one awful thing about the awful year he’s been having.

He’s a comedy writer on staff for Saturday Night Live (an autobiographical element of Kelly’s life that makes one wonder what else might have been borrowed for the purpose of this drama), but he’s also been trying to sell a pilot spec script for a comedy program that will be shown on one of the big, prime-time channels. That thread resolves itself in exactly the way one might expect from the news that this is shaping up to be the worst year of his life. Not only that, but he and his ex-boyfriend Paul (Zach Woods) have called it quits, with David’s part of the lease on their apartment about to end. Some resentment about David’s close-knit, traditional father Norman’s (Bradley Whitford) inability to accept David’s sexuality and choice of partner seems to have led to this.

And then David’s mother and Norman’s wife, Joanne (Molly Shannon) announces her illness, which is an inoperable cancer. Focus shifts onto David’s attempt to help his only major support system before the inevitable. Plemons is terrific as David, never offering an affectation of a queer individual or becoming anything less than completely authentic in his portrayal of a man under the heaviest strain, and Whitford, in the film’s trickiest role, must build a portrait of a confused man intimidated by his wife’s condition and his son’s “lifestyle” until a particularly heated exchange levels the playing field. Kelly’s screenplay has compassion for both men, refusing to make Norman a broad caricature as thoroughly as Whitford does.

Shannon is heartbreaking as Joanne, a woman who successfully puts on an air of strength she musters from her very intestines, even as she loses her hair and voice. The most painful scene here is a PTA meeting in which she must either use another person to speak louder than she can, the woman’s sense of dignity evaporating all the slower as the exchange goes on and then moves to the outside. Shannon is at the film’s aching but beating heart. This is a phenomenal film about family, about the strength of the bond within that family, and about the understanding that, through thick and thin, blood is blood. It is a great film.

Real-deal swashbucklers are hard to find these days, and outside of the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise and a few period pieces with some sword-play elements, I can think of few recent efforts from this most venerable of genres. That’s why Martin Campbell’s rousing and fully entertaining The Mask of Zorro should be rediscovered, as it provided a welcome blast of widescreen fun in the theaters during the summer of 1998, becoming a big worldwide box office hit, and has really yet to be replicated since (the lackluster sequel didn’t come close to matching the charms of its predecessor). Starring Anthony Hopkins as the original and now retired Zorro/Don Diego de la Vega, the incident-packed narrative cooked up by credited screenwriters John Eskow, Ted Elliot, and Terry Rossio finds Hopkins trying to track down his long lost daughter (Catherine Zeta-Jones), while training his hot-headed successor (the perfectly cast Antonio Banderas), and trying to foil the villain (Stuart Wilson), a devious politician who has one too many delusions of grandeur. Shot with a striking sense for action in bold and beautiful 2.35:1 widescreen by the great cinematographer Phil Meheux (The Long Good Friday, Campbell’s Bond reboot Casino Royale), the film’s numerous set-pieces are absolutely dazzling and remarkably CGI-free, stressing real stunts, real explosions, and some seriously superb sword fights.

The road to the big screen for this particular incarnation of the character was a long one, with producer Steven Spielberg at one point considering the helming duties, before courting directors Robert Rodriguez and Mikael Salomon for the job, with Sean Connery initially cast in the role that eventually went to Hopkins. Campbell was then offered the film, who ended up passing on the Pierce Brosnan Bond adventure, Tomorrow Never Dies (he had rebooted the series with Goldeneye a few years before). Producer David Foster and writer/director David S. Ward were both brought in for uncredited rewrites. Shot on location in Mexico City, the film conveys an epic sense of sweep while still retaining the proper intimate moments between the characters, mixing action and romance in equal measure, and allowing for Banderas to totally steal the show with his patented brand of roguish charm. Zeta-Jones, who was lit like an absolute goddess in tons of soft light, is nothing less than radiant in her part, which was written with zest and wit and with plenty of opportunity to surprise. James Horner’s robust musical score supplied terrific accompaniment in every scene, while the physical production itself is truly a marvel to look at, with production designer Cecilia Montiel and costume designer Graciela Mazón both delivering hugely impressive work in their departments. Bottom line: This is just a really, really fun movie. An Amblin Entertainment production.

Days of Thunder is basically Top Gun with race cars, and while it didn’t do nearly the same box office as the Naval aviation saga, it returned director Tony Scott to the chair of a big-budget studio action picture after his more artsy effort, Revenge, and showcased his clear eye for visceral intensity within his action sequences. Again collaborating with iconic producers Don Simpson and Jerry Bruckheimer, Days of Thunder is shamelessly corny and ridiculously entertaining in equal measure, a movie with some of the best race car scenes ever captured on film, truly demonstrating to the viewer just how dangerous stock-car racing can be.  Cruise essentially replicated the character of Maverick but instead of being in a cockpit for most of the movie he’s in the driver’s seat of his car, taking a character that the audience is familiar with and shaping it with some new and interesting beats and flavors.  Scott shot the hell out of every single racing sequence and all of it is 100% real (remember – CGI was still a few years away).  And it truly feels it.  There is an authenticity to the race sequences that feels vital, and the blunt-force impact of Ward Russell’s classically masculine widescreen cinematography cannot be ignored, as it conveys the grit, smoke, and fire of the track, as well as the richly textured, sun-dappled, and heavily atmospheric imagery that Scott would become so famous for. This is a gorgeous film in nearly every instance.

The film also marked the big American break out performance of Nicole Kidman, who would hook up with Cruise off-screen, resulting in one of the most celebrated Hollywood couples of all time; their chemistry in Days is palpable and their courting sequences are genuinely cute. The dynamite sound work on Days of Thunder is a sonic clinic on the process of layering effects, dialogue, and music, mixing the revs and roars of the engines with the screams of the crowd and the interaction of the race teams.  One of the film’s signature moments has to be Cruise’s entrance to the race track; pulling up on a motorcycle, rocking a leather bomber jacket, and cutting through some classic Tony Scott fog-machine-produced-mist, Cruise was in pure bad-boy mode in Days of Thunder. And then there’s the opening credits, which are perfectly edited to Hans Zimmer’s pulsating musical score (his first solo feature job), with Scott and Russell’s camera catching quick glimpses of race track life, which really sets the stage. The macho supporting cast includes John C. Reilly, Robert Duvall, Michael Rooker, Cary Elwes, Fred Thompson, and J.C. Quinn, while legendary Chinatown scribe Robert Towne is credited as the screenwriter. Few movies have conveyed the same sense of speed and danger that Days of Thunder managed to achieve, and as a result, this is a great flick to watch with some friends while drinking some beers on a Saturday afternoon, with the surround sound cranked way up.