THE LOOKOUT – A REVIEW BY J.D. LAFRANCE

by J.D., posted in Film Review

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With his adaptation of Elmore Leonard’s novel, Out of Sight, Scott Frank demonstrated a knack for crime thrillers with plenty of plot twists and double crosses. He finally got the chance to direct his own film and the result was The Lookout (2007), a neo-noir that evokes other crime movies like Charley Varrick (1973) and Fargo (1996).

Chris Pratt (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) is a young hockey player with a promising career that is snuffed out in an instant thanks to a car accident that he caused. Four years later, he’s working as a night janitor at a local Midwestern bank located out in the middle of nowhere and dealing with a head injury from the accident. He has to write down everything that he does to get ready every day. His old life is gone and his new one is one mundane day after another. Chris now lives with Lewis (Jeff Daniels), his blind roommate who helps the young man out with things around their apartment.

Chris meets Gary (Matthew Goode) at a bar one night. He’s a genial guy who befriends the young man over beers. Chris also meets a beautiful young woman named Luvlee (Isla Fisher) who is friends with Gary. They quickly go to work on Chris, Gary appealing to his brain and Luvlee to his heart. They make him feel like he belongs, which is important to him because his family doesn’t know how to relate to him anymore. Pretty soon Gary tells Chris about a bank heist he plans to pull with his buddies. The bank that they are targeting just happens to be the one that Chris works at. Gary dangles the proverbial carrot in front of Chris with the promise of money and the power that comes with it. He is very persuasive and knows exactly which buttons to push. Like most heist films, things do not go according to plan and the rest of the film deals with the aftershocks.

Joseph Gordon-Levitt continues his knack for offbeat roles. He does a great job portraying someone with neurological damage and the frustration that comes from not being able to do simple things like opening a can of food or remembering someone’s name. He also conveys the guilt his character feels over the car accident that cost two of his friends their lives and robbed him of a promising future. We see how he tries to hide his disorder and the frustration of not being able to do basic things. It’s a performance grounded in realism that is in contrast to this stylized noir world. It doesn’t hurt that he is surrounded by cold, detached characters, and this makes him very sympathetic as well.

Jeff Daniels steals pretty much every scene he’s in as Chris’ genial roommate. The actor displays a dry sense of humor that is very funny to see in action. He and Gordon-Levitt’s character make for very unlikely roommates to say the least but the two actors make it work thanks to the excellent chemistry they have together. Along with The Squid in the Whale (2005) and Good Night, and Good Luck (2005), Daniels is turning out to be quite an excellent character actor appearing in several well-made independent films.

Frank has a keen visual sense, adopting a predominantly dark color scheme in keeping with the neo-noir tradition. He has crafted a clever little thriller with a fascinating protagonist at its center. What could have easily been a forgettable film is anchored by yet another riveting performance by Gordon-Levitt.

ROGER DONALDSON’S THE BANK JOB — A REVIEW BY NICK CLEMENT

by nlclement, posted in Film Review

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The less you know about Roger Donaldson’s enormously entertaining heist flick The Bank Job the better off you will be when you see it. This is a total crowd-pleaser from start to finish, a smart, adult-oriented thriller that really thrills, and it’s a shame that it slipped in and out of theaters back in 2008. Donaldson, who has had a solid directorial career filled with some great popcorn flicks and more personal underrated efforts, crafted a very polished piece of genre filmmaking with The Bank Job; it may be his best overall effort. The caper movie can be a tricky beast at times as the audience expects surprises from stories such as this, and in that respect, The Bank Job doesn’t disappoint. The smart yet complicated script courtesy of veteran screenwriters Dick Clement and Ian Le Frenais (The Commitments) is sassy, tough, and fast paced. It’s also very funny, and when necessary, down and dirty and mean. Anchored by a sturdy, Steve McQueen-esque performance from big-screen tough-guy Jason Statham (his best work to date as an actor) The Bank Job breezes along, never slowing down for a moment during the extremely tight two hour run time.

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One of the reasons why I had such a blast with this flick was that I didn’t know all of the particulars. The film starts off in sexy, 70’s fashion, with a couple of topless women frolicking in crystal clear ocean water, at some unnamed resort area. The ladies, and their male friend, move to a nearby bungalow, for a more private encounter. What the three of them don’t realize is that there is someone snapping some incriminating photographs from outside their window. What the audience doesn’t initially realize is that one of the women enjoying the tryst happens to be British royalty. And it doesn’t help matters that the individual taking those photographs happens to be connected to the ruthless gangster Michael X (a sneering and vicious Peter De Jersey). The photos will serve as leverage if he ever gets into trouble with the British government. Right off the bat, some excellent pieces are set into motion.

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Cut to London. Terry Leather (Statham) runs an auto-body shop with a couple of ex-goons. Leather is no stranger to trouble and local harassment from an assortment of petty gangsters and crooked cops. It’s clear that he might have had some run-ins with the law earlier in life, but that he’s at least attempting to go straight. But before long, in classic tradition, his stunningly gorgeous old-flame Martine (Saffron Burrows, exuding sexiness), a part-time model, shows up at his shop with a potentially dangerous but extremely lucrative proposition. She’s met some people who want to rob a bank in downtown London. There are some specifics to the case that I will allow you to discover on your own, but I will concede that Martine may or may not be 100% truthful with all of the facts. And the way a porn kingpin, the British secret intelligence, local cops, a high-class brothel, dirty politicians, and a variety of naked women figure into the plot are also developments that should be left for your discovery. Normally a heist film doesn’t juggle this many plot lines, but credit the writers with doing so coherently and excitingly, while never losing sight of the tight story at its core. Also, in reference to the on-screen nudity, I must say how refreshing it was to actually see an adult-minded picture that wasn’t shy about sexuality and had some fun in this realm. It was also rather nice to see a heist film where I actually believed the heist that was going on! How many times have we seen over-the-top scenarios with an impossible heist in the middle of a ridiculous plot? The fact that The Bank Job is based on real events makes it even juicier.

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Statham got a chance to actually prove that he could act in The Bank Job, grounding the movie at all times with his inherent gravitas, while also allowing for more nuance than one probably expects from him as a performer. While I have loved seeing him kick continuous bad-guy ass in movies like Crank and Crank 2 and The Transporter/Expendables series, it was great to see him play a real character for once, one with a credible backstory, honest vulnerabilities, and some level of genuine stress. But never fear – Statham gets to flex his muscles at the end of The Bank Job, and because the ass-whooping that he throws is completely warranted by the plot, it felt all the more cathartic and exciting. The deep ensemble cast, made up of lots of British character actors, seals the deal as there isn’t one wasted performance or actor in the entire bunch. Burrows, who has more to do in the film than you might think considering her “hot-chick” character archetype, is mysterious, gorgeous, and dangerous, exactly what a femme fatale should be.

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But to be honest, I can’t help but feel that the real star of The Bank Job is its director. Donaldson, an Australian journeyman/gun-for-hire, had a couple of big hits in the 80’s with the excellent No Way Out and the slick ‘n shitty Cocktail. And then came the 90’s, which weren’t as kind: Cadillac Man, White Sands, and the wholly unnecessary yet still entertaining remake of Sam Peckinpah’s masterwork The Getaway, all of which were critical and commercial disappointments. Then there was the schlocky and totally awesome sci-fi hit Species, which while derivative beyond belief, was a fun, effective B-movie that did solid business, spawned a franchise, and introduced the world to Natasha Henstridge. Next came Dante’s Peak, the first (and better) of the two big-budget volcano movies of the late 90’s. Then, in 2000, Donaldson busted out with the excellent Cuban missile crisis political thriller 13 Days, which did piss-poor business, and probably competes with The Bank Job for “best film of career” honors. Needing a hit, he followed that up with the more conventional spy film The Recruit, which was solid if uninspired entertainment, and then in 2005, he made the delightful Anthony Hopkins starrer The World’s Fastest Indian, clearly a more personal project.

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Donaldson, always a solid technician who brings an unfussy sense of style to all of his films, seemed to have been reinvigorated by the material in The Bank Job. He directed with an icy firm grip, never letting the busy plot spin out of control, shooting the action in a crisp and clean fashion, and allowing for moments of character based humor. And in tandem with his talented cinematographer Michael Coulter, he brought a gritty, desaturated color palette to match the 70’s-style realism with the on location London surroundings. But while critics heaped praise on The Bank Job, it died a quick death with theatrical audiences, and after the unfair box office failure, Donaldson has gone back to more routine offerings, like 2011’s clichéd lawyer thriller Seeking Justice (which barely got a release) and the vanilla-looking The November Man (haven’t seen that one yet). If you’re looking for smart entertainment, a film that is sexy, unpredictable, humorous, and satisfying, you could do a lot worse than check out The Bank Job. It doesn’t re-invent the wheel, but for what it is, it’s just about damn near perfect. And sometimes, all we need is a classy, unpretentious piece of entertainment like The Bank Job to remind us that there is life left in one of our more well-stocked genres.

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VIVA (2007): A Review by Ryan Marshall

by population40, posted in Film Review

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An homage, when executed with the most shallow of intentions (that is, to pay tribute without any sort of recognizable personal stamp), can potentially be a deeply disastrous affair. Truth be told, just about anyone can spread their fanaticism far and wide, but it takes a particularly gifted individual to balance immeasurable admiration with a more comprehensive understanding of his/her obsessions. Anna Biller’s VIVA belongs to a long line of exploitation throwbacks that have turned up in recent years – a candy colored excursion back to a time when the idea of corrupted innocence was genuinely invigorating – and immediately it looks to be the kind of extra-cutesy affair that you either love or hate depending on your own tolerance for the kind of material it seeks to evoke. In spite of whatever complicated feelings one might have, there’s an undeniable hook from the first frame onwards, which is that Biller’s at the very least got the “look” and “feel” down to a tee; unmistakably the result of countless years spent thrifting, crate digging, and existing almost entirely in her own world.

I’m the kind of guy who appreciates a true sense of craftsmanship when it comes to production design in film (and even more-so with an intended period piece), so Biller’s commitment to recreating the sleaze and cheese of 1960’s/70’s sexploitation is an immediately imposing quality. Every last aspect of sound and sight, from the pictures hanging on the walls to the occasional (and only slightly jarring) continuity error, exists for the sole purpose of total immersion. Taking a closer look at her filmography thus far, the writer/director (plus costume designer, editor, actress, producer, animator, musical contributor, etc.) seems to have a very unique (and so far successful) brand which seeks to revisit the kind of lucid technicolor dreamscapes that once graced the silver screen with their distinctive phantasmagoria, but with an added intellectual twist which allows the material to be studied under the microscopic lens of today’s comparatively tame social-political landscape.

“This is a story about a housewife during the sexual revolution. The time is 1972, the place is Los Angeles, and the people are ORDINARY.” The situation at large: Barbi (Biller) enjoys, or rather submits to a stay-at-home life with her husband in and out on various business trips and the neighbors, Mark and Sheila, serving as a constant reminder of the mundanity of her sexuality as of late. But one day, Barbi ventures far outside of her comfort zone, pursuing a career in modeling, which leads to an unlikely encounter with a vivacious hair stylist that prompts her man to walk out on her. Instead of confronting the crippling emptiness she experiences in light of his absence, Barbi goes out on the town with Sheila (whose husband has also left her) where they take up new lives as call girls. Nudist hippie camps, flamboyant art snobs, the allure of showbiz, and crazy drug-fueled orgies – there’s truly something for everyone out there.

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But of course, this exhilarating new world is not quite all it’s cracked up to be; the girls are of the belief that they are escaping the constricted roles of the household through all the glitter and glam, when in fact the men of this so-called “high life” are no less intolerant and negligent than their respective spouses. Where their husbands merely laughed until their faces were red or extended their skiing vacations an extra full month, these savage beasts are content to buy and sell them out or worse yet, take their abusive tendencies to more regrettably hands-on territory. Yet, Barbi proves time and time again that she is much stronger than she appears; the toxic cycle seems never-ending and the web of overbearing masculinity is a powerful obstacle, but what this tale ultimately suggests is that progress is not an all-together impossible dream.

Speaking strictly of surface-level pleasures, this covers just about anything that could be found on the unofficial sexploitation checklist, which is a modest achievement in its own right – but brewing beneath is something far more interesting and – ultimately – important. This is indubitably a feminist film, and one which is refreshingly fearless in how it pronounces itself as such; a simple but poignant story of a woman breaking free of both internal and external boundaries and learning to exist as her own separate entity. Aesthetically, Biller crafts a language that is entirely her own, in spite of her many prominent influences; if this can be compared to anything, it’s the early works of John Waters (FEMALE TROUBLE and DESPERATE LIVING, especially). Much of it is gleefully over-the-top, often hysterical, but whilst wallowing in the filth, Biller gracefully unearths honest, ugly truths when it comes to female representation both on and off the screen, though it’s her auteurist touch – her fetishistic attention to detail and supernatural gifts as a visual artist – that really allows the bigger, more progressive ideas to shine.

But most importantly, it’s just great entertainment. At two hours, there are brief moments when one feels the narrative meandering ever so slightly, although it’s safe to assume this is simply by design – either way, the film is never anything less than effortlessly engaging. Spectacular musical numbers, a vibrant color palette, the casual celebration of excess (a surplus of sex, drugs, and mood music can be found here for those inquiring) and even a mind-bending animated sequence (designed by Biller herself, to the surprise of, well, absolutely no one) ensure that it keeps finding new ways to surprise the viewer at every turn, and the cast deserves a special mention as well for keeping the material consistently amusing without overstepping into grotesque self-parody. The scene with the hair stylist, in particular, is of a (hilarious) nature that would make the aforementioned Waters green with envy; it’s positively absurd, and gleefully filthy, without abandoning the heart of the picture. Impressively, it’s one of many things that remains perfectly in-tact throughout.

VIVA is about as cool, collected and smart as feature debuts get – signifying all at once a compelling introduction to a singular obsessive cinematic conscience and a passionate call to action for those interested in the sexual politics of yesteryear and yesterday, and how from them we can derive lessons to be applied to contemporary values. It’s fresh, endearing and poetic in its artful trashiness – it’s very much the movie I needed at this particular time in my life. If ever there was further proof of the values inherent in actively searching for hidden gems within the grimiest and most effectively transgressive crevices of cinema, it can be found here, deep within the pulsating portal of pop-art progressiveness that is Anna Biller’s beautifully bat-shit psyche.

Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind: A Review by Nate Hill 

by natewatchescoolmovies, posted in Film Review

Films like Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind come around once in a lifetime, if we’re lucky. I watched it when I was too young to fully grasp much, and it flew over my head. In the last few years I had a revisit and was knocked flat. Few stories out there have the power to mine deep within the human psyche and search for the complexities, contradictions and puzzling flaws that lie in the beautiful disasters we call human beings. A contemplative yet fast paced meditation on relationships, love, heartbreak and reconciliation doesn’t even begin to paint a picture of what you’re in for with this uniquely told and one in a million film. Sagely ragamuffin Michel Gondry, not one for the easy way out, has truly outdone himself, as has screenwriter Charlie Kaufman, who is never short on wild ideas with emotional heft that sneaks up and blindsides you. Joel Barrish (Jim Carrey) ditches work on a whim one morning, and hops a train out to snowy Montauk. Through fate’s mysterious grasp, he meets free spirited Clementine (Kate Winslet), and the two hit it off immediately. He’s reserved, cautious and calculated, and she’s an impulsive wild card. They couldn’t be more different, but somehow they work. Until they don’t. Joel is devastated to learn one day of a radical brain alteration technique that effectively removes the memory of an ex from your mind, and Clementine has taken the plunge. Joel is confused and lost, and while the iron is still hot in his beating heart, he decides to undergo the procedure as well. Then the film really turns your world upside down. Whilst the staff of the Institute (Mark Ruffalo, Elijah Wood and Kirsten Dunst) go to work on his mind in his sleep, he has a change of heart. With the memories of Clementine radidly disintegrating, he races through the internal landscape of his mind in order to find and save her, hiding her in obscure corners of his data log where she won’t be found. It’s a genius way to tell the story, taking a delightful turn for the surreal as both of them find themselves catapulted headlong into various moments of his life. On the outside, a tragic subplot unfolds involving Dunst and the the head doctor at the program (Tom Wilkinson). Kirsten and Tom have never been better, treating an often used trope with dignity and gentleness. For all its tricks and psychological whathaveya, the film is first and foremost about love. It isn’t interested in showing us any generic or clichéd depiction of it either, like most of the pandering fluff that gets passed off as romance these days. It strives to show love in all its brutal and painful glory, the fights, the hurt, the time spent alone, the resentment and the willingness to batter your way through all that, against better judgment and logic, if it’s worth it. Is love a force of its own, a measurable influence that can transcend a procedure like that? Is it it’s own element, or simply always a part of us? Carrey and Winslet (and, to a lesser extent, Wilkinson and Dunst) tenderly search for the answers to these difficult questions in what are the roles of a lifetime for both. Carrey has never been so vulnerable, so open, and despite his brilliant comedic work elsewhere, his performance here is a direct window into the soul, and his best work to date. Although the film is quite labyrinthine and jumps around quite a lot, it never, ever jumps the track or misses a beat. It’s always concise, deliberate and crystal clear, if you have the patience and dedication to watch it a few times in order to let all the beautiful images, words and ideas sink in. Movies are first and foremost for entertainment. You give the man your nickel, he fires up the projector and you watch the lone ranger chase down down a speeding locomotive. Every once in a while you get one like this, one that challenges and inspires deep thought, intangible feelings and teaches you something, maybe even about yourself. Every once in a while, you get one that alters your life, and that is what is so important about that little spinning machine that opens up worlds upon a simple flat white canvas where before there was nothing. A masterpiece.

PODCASTING THEM SOFTLY PRESENTS A VISIT WITH THE STANLEY KUBRICK ARCHIVES

by tfuglei, posted in Film Review

 

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The Contemporary Jewish Museum in San Francisco, CA is offering a stunning treat for cinephiles through October 30, 2016–a large swath of the legendary Stanley Kubrick Archives is on display for the public to enjoy.  Your humble correspondent, camera in hand, recently had the opportunity to spend some time with this monument to the work of a man many consider the greatest filmmaker of all time.  We begin our visual tour with some of Kubrick’s most beloved camera equipment, move on to several early shots for Look Magazine, and then finish with the invaluable memorabilia from the movies themselves.

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O.C. AND STIGGS – A REVIEW BY J.D. LAFRANCE

by J.D., posted in Film Review

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After Popeye (1980), Robert Altman had effectively alienated himself from most of the Hollywood studios and took to adapting stage plays for the big screen through independent financing. In the early 1980s, National Lampoon magazine published stories about two troublemaking teenagers named Oliver Cromwell ‘O.C.’ Ogilvie and Mark Stiggs written by Tod Carroll and Ted Mann. When Altman made O.C. and Stiggs in 1984 (it wasn’t released until 1987), teen comedies were all the rage but he hated them and so, instead, he made it into a biting satire of these kinds of films. Not surprisingly, nobody liked it and the movie quickly disappeared. Even among Altman fans it has few supporters and was eventually quietly released on DVD.

O.C. (Daniel Jenkins) and Stiggs (Neill Barry) are suburban teens and avid practical jokers who live in Phoenix, Arizona. The main target of their gags is the Schwab family, a decadent, materialistic clan headed by Randall Schwab (Paul Dooley) who sells insurance. The mother (Jane Curtin) is an alcoholic, their son (Jon Cryer) is a gullible idiot while their daughter is about to get married.

In some respects, O.C. and Stiggs are like teenage versions of Hawkeye and Trapper John from M*A*S*H (1970). Both feature clever hipsters but the latter were also brilliant surgeons whereas the former are only good at one thing – staging elaborate practical jokes. In M*A*S*H, the two surgeons were fighting against authority and the absurdity of war while O.C. and Stiggs are fighting against materialism and mediocrity as represented by the Schwabs with their bad fashion sense and gaudy décor – the epitome of the “ugly American.”

The problem with O.C. and Stiggs is the central characters. They aren’t particularly interesting. Their obsession with pulling endless practical jokes on the Schwabs seems mean-spirited at times. Another problem lies in what O.C. and Stiggs are rebelling against, which isn’t as clearly defined as the war in M*A*S*H. The teen pranksters are rebelling against the mind-numbing banality of suburbia and the “Greed is good” era of Reaganomics. There is an attempt to provide some kind of motivation for why these kids do what they do. Stiggs’ dad is cheating on his wife while O.C.’s dad (grandfather?) is unemployed and possibly senile. No wonder they spend all their time together devising elaborate schemes. It is a form of escape from their mundane surroundings.

This movie sees Altman in an extremely playful mood with the same kind of fast and loose structure as California Split (1974), which also features two freewheeling pals careening from one crazy encounter to another. A crazed, babbling Dennis Hopper even pops up as a burnt out Vietnam vet. It’s as if his photographer character from Apocalypse Now (1979) had somehow made it out of Kurtz’s compound and came back to the United States.

There are some nice moments, like when O.C. dances with a beautiful girl (Cynthia Nixon) at the Schwab wedding that is a nod to classic Hollywood cinema by way of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. But it is not enough to keep this uneven film together.

Altman flips the ‘80s teen comedy on its head. He even refuses to populate the film’s soundtrack with trendy New Wave music, instead opting for the catchy African music of King Sunny Ade. No wonder people hated this movie when it came out. Clearly Altman did not grasp the original source material (or didn’t even bother to read it) and just did his own thing. The results are, at times, amusing and at some point you either surrender yourself to the goofiness of the whole enterprise or resist this maddeningly frustrating effort.

MARTIN SCORSESE’S THE WOLF OF WALL STREET — A REVIEW BY NICK CLEMENT

by nlclement, posted in Film Review

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The epic, excessive life of notorious Wall Street huckster Jordan Belfort got epic, excessive cinematic treatment by one of the most epic, excessive of directors, Martin Scorsese, in The Wolf Of Wall Street. Leonardo DiCaprio was completely and utterly on fire from frame-one, giving it his all in every sense of the phrase. It’s also, most crucially and surprisingly, the funniest and loosest he’s ever been on screen, revealing new, comedic sides to his personality. On the complete opposite side of things, the enormously gifted comedic actor Jonah Hill again severely impressed in a dramatic role after doing stellar work in Cyrus and Moneyball, while also landing some of the heartiest laughs in this blackest of comedies. Littered with tons of familiar faces, spot-on character work, and the alarming presence of alluring Australian bombshell Margot Robbie (doing a terrific New Joisey accent, it must be noted), The Wolf of Wall Street races through its three-hour running time like an out of control freight train being driven by a lunatic mad-man.

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No movie since Terry Gilliam’s hedonistic tour de force of drug-fueled shenanigans Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas has embraced on-screen drug-use for both dark humor and for appalling dramatic effect the way The Wolf of Wall Street did. But that’s why Scorsese continues to be the most important, vital voice in modern cinema – he’s always up to a challenge, always pushing the limits, always going for the filmic jugular. Along with the gifted screenwriter Terrence Winter, they painted a sprawling, troubling portrait of a morally decaying society – the American dream run amok, perverted and corrupted by ultra-success and zero consequences. And the last shot of the film – possibly the best single shot of its year – casually and brilliantly indicts everyone, not just the despicable characters in the film and the zombie-eyed audience members that Belfort is preaching too at his seminar, but anyone who was in the audience or watching at home who has missed the point of this outrageous and masterful piece of storytelling. And one last thing: Never call Rob Reiner during The Equalizer!

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The Truman Show: A Review by Nate Hill 

by natewatchescoolmovies, posted in Film Review

Everyone at some point in their lives has been bothered by the notion that their surroundings are all an elaborate prank, that somehow every single human being but them is in on some giant impossible joke, watching their every move for strange and unthinkable purposes. What if my life isn’t real? What if all my friends and family members aren’t who they say they are, and I’m just part of some ungodly social experiment? What if my life as I’ve known it just isn’t.. real? For Truman Burbank (Jim Carrey) these concerns are very pressing, as he discovers throughout one of the most thoughtful, touching, creative and insightful films ever made. Director Peter Weir works with a script by Andrew Niccol to bring us this now timeless tale of a man existing in a patented pastel world that was never his own and always destined for him. Truman is the unwitting star of his own television show, inducted into its gargantuan studio set since the day of his birth, and conditioned to believe all his life that the people, places and events around him are in fact his real life. Cruel? Perhaps, but the film never takes sides, instead favoring wonder over analytical dissection, a wise move. Even the conductor of this whole absurd symphony, a prolific filmmaker played by Ed Harris, gets his moment of sympathy which can be read as preening ego or the desire to connect with his leading actor beyond the pixelated jumbo-tron he sits behind, depending on how you view the situation. Truman has a lovely wife (Laura Linney), a salt of the earth best friend (Noah Emmerich) and the perfect little white picket fence life. But none of it is real, or at least organic in the sense that every person deserves out of the womb. Truman is a rat in a very elaborate maze, but like anyone who’s had the wool pulled over their eyes, eventually he begins to see lights of authenticity piercing the seams. Gradually he begins to sniff out the ruse, like a child losing their innocence, and questions the eerily idyllic life he has been given. The people, or rather, actors in his life react in different ways. Some panic, others stick to the script, and Harris sorrowfully watches his controversial creation awaken beyond his control. Carrey is a starry eyed revelation as Truman, in one of the most overlooked performances of the century. His arc is the stuff of dreams, spanning the lengths of naivete trapped in a bubble that bursts into affecting, starry eyed realization and wonder. Every moment is owned by him, every beat is resoundingly hit in flawless fashion. When a mysterious and beautiful defector (the luminous Natasha Mcelhone) enters his life to play the part of whistle-blower, it’s the first geniune and non-puppeteered interaction he’s had with a human being. Sparks fly high enough to reach the heavens, and it’s the catalyst for a journey to find the self, the reason for his predicament, a world beyond the Lego brick suburbia he has known and the next step in his impossibly unique life. There’s a piece of Truman embedded in every viewer beholding, and I believe that’s why the film has held up for so long, and been beloved by so many. Every human being has insecurities as large as the fake sound stage that raised him from a pup. Every one of us has at one point felt the alienation he must have gone through upon realizing the truth. In a story so larger than life, we find the answers, or at least a modicum of such, to what it means being a person in this world. Carrey’s Truman is an achingly relatable avatar of this and a direct conduit into the essential. Couldn’t have picked a better actor to bring all of this to life. Couldn’t have made a better film about it. A classic. Good morning, and in case I don’t see you: good afternoon, good evening and goodnight. 

Indie Gems with Nate: Darkness On The Edge Of Town 

by natewatchescoolmovies, posted in Film Review

Every once in a blue moon I take a look in the independent section of netflix, scan the message boards on imdb or do a little bit of research I order to find something I have no idea about, to blind watch something obscure and little heard of. Often I get saddled with head scratching bilge water, but sometimes there’s that perfect film out there, just waiting to be taken in and appreciated by more people.  Darkness On The Edge Of Town (is that not a wicked title?) seemed like what I was in the mood for, so I gave it a shot. Blew me away. Like an intoxicating mix of Straw Dogs, Thirteen, Mystic River and others, all set in atmospheric Ireland, and absolutely brilliant. It opens with one of the most beautiful wordless prologues, in which we witness a murder being carried out, and are privy to the perpetrator right off the bat. The victim is young woman Sophie (Maura Foley), leaving her estranged sister Cleo (Emma Eliza Regan) and her best friend Robin (Emma Willis) to put the pieces together, while both navigating broken foster homes, dangerous Travellers and a suspicious police detective. Cleo & Emma are problematic, near feral waifs who grew up as best friends, but with not much other companionship from anyone else. Even Sophie was an absentee sibling with her own problems, as revealed in flashbacks that fill in gray areas. The two have spent a shared childhood and adolescence running wild, and as such see fit to take on their own investigation into the crime, leading to places of darkness, confusion and revelations which will threaten to tear them apart. The film carefully examines the relationship between the two leads, as well as each one’s connection to Sophie and how it affects their choices and outlooks. There’s an ethereal magic to it all, a fairy tale timbre to the soundtrack and photography, hinting towards a shred of innocence still left in these two, despite how bitter life has made them both. Music plays a big part too, especially in the muted opening, a stark, striking way to usher us into the story and an evocative blend of otherworldly suggestion and blunt frankness. The three girls are superb in their roles, and I look forward to seeing more work from them in the future. My only gripe is with story structure, as some of the finer plot turns could have been more precisely pronounced. However, it’s evident these people are fledgling filmmakers still getting a feel for their technique, so all is forgiven.  The misty locale of Northern Ireland takes on it’s own portentous sentience here, as you can guess by the title, which nearly brings the horror genre to mind. The only horror to be found here is in sickness of the mind, and the actions it can lead to amongst people, even those who love each other. Darkness is key here, with but a few rays of light and beauty amidst a thicket of trauma and violence. Check this one out while it’s on netflix, because I doubt it can be found anywhere else at this stage. A gem. 

CARLITO’S WAY – A REVIEW BY J.D. LAFRANCE

by J.D., posted in Film Review

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There was a lot of anticipation when Carlito’s Way was released in 1993. Director Brian De Palma had just come off a lukewarm reception for yet another Alfred Hitchcock homage, Raising Cain (1992) and was in need of a hit to appease the studios. And so, a re-teaming with Al Pacino in an effort to recreate the magic of Scarface (1983) made commercial sense. Carlito’s Way was much more somber in tone than the cinematic shotgun blast that is Scarface. It is a tragedy about how a criminal tries to go straight but is ultimately doomed from the get-go.

Carlito’s Way features one of the oldest chestnuts in the world. Narrating his story during the last moments of his life, Carlito Brigante (Pacino) is a veteran criminal recently released from prison and intent on leading a normal, law-abiding life. Of course, it isn’t going to be that easy and when he returns to his old neighborhood, his reputation precedes him. Local gangster Benny Blanco from the Bronx (John Leguizamo) is a cocky, up and comer who sets his sights on Carlito after he is shamed by him in public. Carlito, however, barely notices him as he’s torn between reuniting with an old flame, Gail (Penelope Ann Miller), a struggling Broadway dancer, and keeping his lawyer friend, David Kleinfeld (Sean Penn) out of trouble.

As a personal favor to David, Carlito runs a nightclub so that he can raise enough money to start his own business renting cars in a tropical paradise with Gail. However, Carlito’s loyalty to David will be his undoing because his friend has become so corrupt during the time that Carlito was in prison.

As always, De Palma injects the film with his trademark bravura action sequences, including one early on when Carlito accompanies his cousin on a routine drug deal that turns into a violent blood bath. One look at the set-up and, like Carlito, we know that something is not right. De Palma prolongs the violent confrontation for as long as possible, gradually building the tension as we feel Carlito’s apprehension. The director orchestrates the entire scene like a pro, knowing just how long to build things up before the inevitable eruption of violence.

Carlito is a role tailor-made for Al Pacino, allowing him to essay another larger-than-life character. Carlito is a smart guy who cannot escape what he is no matter how hard he tries and Pacino conveys the melancholy that lurks behind the bravado of his character. The real scene stealer, however, is Sean Penn’s sleazy, coked-up lawyer. The actor reportedly did the film to help finance his second directorial effort, The Crossing Guard (1995). For a paycheck role, Penn does a great job as he disappears into the character, complete with a frizzy afro and cheap suits. It’s almost as if Pacino’s presence inspired Penn to step up his game. And this makes Penn’s memorable turn so much fun to watch.

The rest of the cast is filled out by solid character actors like John Leguizamo, who plays Benny as a pushy little runt with a motor-mouth, and the always reliable Luis Guzman as Carlito’s right-hand man. The only miscasting is Penelope Ann Miller as Pacino’s love interest. She looks out of place and just doesn’t have the chops to hold her own against Pacino.

Despite the cliched premise, Carlito’s Way works so well because of the caliber of actors, David Koepp’s screenplay with memorable dialogue (“You think you’re big time?! You’re gonna fucking die big time!”), and De Palma’s stylish direction. This film is proof that given the right material, De Palma can still make a hell of an entertaining movie.