Hope everyone enjoys!
Mark Pellington’s I Melt With You is a difficult animal. And make no mistake — that’s what this is — an untamed animal of a motion picture. Snarling, angry, forceful, overwrought (by design), and passionately crafted in all departments, it’s the sort of film, no, make that provocation, that will enrage some viewers and cast a spell over others. I’m curiously caught somewhere in between; it’s too smart and thoughtful to be outright dismissed the way it was by so many “critics” when it hit limited release back in 2011, but I can’t help but feel that it could have been a stronger piece overall had some things been done differently. One thing’s for certain – this is far from the “worst movie of the year,” which is what many proclaimed it to be; that statement suggests that you’re not watching enough movies. This is a daring, bleak piece of work, with narrative shadings that remind one of Fight Club and stylistic tendencies that evoke both The Tree of Life and Enter the Void, and because Pellington and screenwriter Glenn Porter went for the emotional jugular so often, the film has a careening sense of energy and purpose, shoving you face first into hedonistic excess (the on screen drug use in I Melt With You, at times, rivals the shenanigans in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and The Wolf of Wall Street) without the promise of ever letting up, and then switching gears in the second half for a fatalistic existential thriller that goes to some extremely dark and disturbing places, none of it easy to forget. Since revisiting this film a few days ago, it’s stuck around in my memory banks, and even though I’m still not certain how I feel about the film overall, I do know that it’s a personal, extremely gutsy piece of storytelling that isn’t afraid to rub our noses in overwhelming stress and psychological turmoil.
Starring Rob Lowe, Thomas Jane, Jeremy Piven, and Christian McKay as four best friends, all in their mid-40’s, all of whom are coming apart at the seams, I Melt With You tracks their immature and over the top behavior before taking a plunge off the deep end into a pool of despair. But is it immature, really? Are their raucous actions more a comment on how “every guy” feels deep down inside? Pellington and Porter certainly seem to think that the male beast is capable of these feelings. All of the guys are conflicted in one way or another: Lowe is a shady doctor taking bribes on the side from patients, Jane a failed writer turned teacher given to bouts of extreme substance abuse, Piven a Bernie Madoff-esque financial hustler with the All-American family image as protection, and McKay, well, he’s just a confused mess of sexual and spiritual emotions, a lost sheep if you will, unable to cope with what his life has become after a tragic accident. These are guys who met in college, became fast friends, and never lost touch. For their latest yearly weekend retreat, they rent a picturesque house perched ominously atop a cliff in Big Sur with the perfect ocean view, with the intention of drinking, drugging, and sexing themselves into oblivion over the course of few days. Then, something “big” happens, with one of the men taking his life in a desperate act of suicide, thus re-energizing a long lost secret from the past that comes back to haunt the surviving friends for the rest of the intensely realized narrative. Lowe has rarely been given a chance to be this dramatic, and he’s forceful in his various scenes of distress. Piven will always feel like Ari Gold, but here, it’s like Gold has been given his final comeuppance, and he plays the part very well. Jane, a versatile character actor capable of broad range, is excellent, possibly the best he’s ever been, delivering a full-throttle performance that never stops simmering. And McKay, an actor previously unknown to me, hits sensitive notes as the “quiet one” in the group, and he lends the entire piece a sense of serenity that it lacks in almost every other instance.
Pellington has had a very interesting career thus far, without ever becoming as prolific as his peers. Tons of TV episodes, concert films (U2: 3-D), documentaries, and then two of the best thrillers in recent years (Arlington Road in 1999 and The Mothman Prophecies in 2002), an offbeat comedy called Henry Poole is Here in 2008, and most recently, I Melt With You in 2011, which seems to have thrown him off the feature film map for a bit. And that’s a shame, because we need original voices like Pellington getting a chance to mix it up in the studio system. Not everything needs to feel homogenized into tasteless oblivion, and I love how he’s brought a sleek and stylish visual sense to each of the films I’ve seen from him while still paying attention to the demands of character and story. But one thing is for damn certain: Pellington is a consummate stylist, with a remarkable eye for unique composition, startling color, and striking shot selection. Working with the extremely talented cinematographer Eric Schmidt, every single image in I Melt With You is museum quality, with a deep and saturated palette that in tandem with the digital filmmaking process results in one glorious moment after another. Getting wasted has never looked this beautiful, but, rather interestingly, instead of glamourizing the proceedings, Pellington makes the entire debauched scene seem all the more sad and desperate and lonely; the beauty that accompanies the bodily destruction is a wonderful juxtaposition of mood and intent. The film’s “colorist” even got an upfront on-screen credit, something you NEVER see, but something that’s TOTALLY warranted, as the color in I Melt With You literally bleeds off the screen; eye-catching doesn’t even cover it.
I Melt With You, rather boldly, continually asks the viewer to identify, empathize, and sometimes even sympathize with these out of control characters, and I think that one of the reasons that the film was met with such harsh criticism is that people are afraid of what they see in these people; they don’t want to look in the filmic mirror and see a shred of any of these guys, even if in reality, there’s a piece of them inside all of us, however small, to a certain degree. Pellington and Porter are interested in getting a response from the viewer, something that will undoubtedly happen right off the bat. For some, this movie is going to be “too much,” and I can respect that. You have to WANT to want to see something like this. It’s a movie born out of a clearly personal need to tell this particular story, and aspects of the script were birthed from the real life tragedy of Pellington losing his wife way too early in their relationship. If I feel that there’s one major misstep in I Melt With You, it’s the inclusion of the Carla Gugino cop character, who shows up in the film’s most problematic portions during the third act. My issues have nothing to do with her acting abilities, but rather, her character seemed like an attempt to artificially ratchet the tension up even more, when to be honest, the crux of the film lies with the men and their various internal issues. This film was always going to be an intense ride, and the ending was always going to be a forgone conclusion, so I’m not 100% sure it was necessary to inject this aspect into the film. I Melt With You runs a generous two hours, but there’s a side of me that feels it could have made even more of a visceral impact had it been a tight 90 minutes. But, as is, I Melt With You is an extraordinarily draining and punishing movie, a work that feels “experienced” more than passively viewed, and it’s the sort of work that announces its intentions right up front through the use of heightened textual imagery and a pulsating soundscape. You will FEEL something by the time this film concludes.
I am a Man
Now I remember
I am divorced
I can’t get hard
I love my wife
I don’t love her
I lie to myself
My mother is dead
I’m a failure
I am the bread winner
I am married
I am a failure
She left me
I’m under 50
I’m just like my father
I’m nothing like him
I’m over 21
I can fuck
My kids need me
I’m losing my hair
I need glasses
I am afraid
I love you
I MELT WITH YOU is one of my absolute top five films of all time. I have two top five films, one made up of my favorite films, and one made up of the best films that I have seen. I MELT WITH YOU is in both top fives. I would like to preface this post by saying that this film is incredibly hard to watch. It is an in your face, fast burning film that does not pull any punches what-so-ever, and the film takes dark leaps that you don’t think it will. This is a film, that last time I checked has an 11% on Rotten Tomatoes and was dubbed the worst film of 2011. That’s all bullshit. The problem with I MELT WITH YOU is that the director, Mark Pellington (ARLINGTON ROAD, THE MOTHMAN PROPHECIES), uses this film as a mirror, and holds it inches from your face. What you see in the reflection is real, raw and the unapologetic truth about who we are, and what we hide from others and ourselves.
I equate the film to being very THE BIG CHILL esq, the plot of the film is about four middle aged friends, Richard (Thomas Jane) who is a “failed” writer and now a high school English teacher, Jonathan (Rob Lowe) a high-end general practitioner who is taking money in exchange for prescriptions, Ron (Jeremy Piven) a fraudulent investment banker, and Tim (Christian McKay) an artist who has lost his soul mate in a crash he caused, and these four have gotten together for a weekend every year since they all graduated college together. The weekends are loud, drug induced and partying that makes THE WOLF OF WALL STREET look like a PG rated film.
The first act of the film is laugh out loud funny, with the four friends partying their ass’ off and reminiscing about old times. The chemistry the four actors have is absolutely paramount, and looks and feels incredibly genuine and the comradely overflows through the screen, and you feel like one of them, hanging out, taking pills and drinking whiskey. It’s all fun and games. A great time.
There are many messages, themes and realities this film conveys, but at the bottom of all that is the foundation of love. These men love each other more than anything, it’s a bond that is not easily achieved, and can never be broken. They love each other, regardless of their individual failures and successes, it doesn’t matter. The four of them are always there for one another. Nothing will ever change that. Nothing will ever change the love and support they have for one another, until it does.
The second act of the film takes an incredible, and I mean incredible, dark turn. Everything in the film is turned upside down, causing the characters to deal with the reality of what happened, and the bigger picture of the reality of a pact they made when they graduated college together. This causes them to reexamine who they are, what they’ve become, and how far away they are from who they once were. How they didn’t stay true to themselves, and became hypocrites.
Richard (Jane) is the realist and the leader of the group. He was in love once, it didn’t work out, and spent the rest of his life having sex with a vast amount of women. Richard is the idealist, reminding the rest of the friends who they once were, who they have become, and why they haven’t stayed true to themselves, and each other, and he reinforces the pact they made, signed with their blood.
Jane gives his finest performance, and that is saying a lot, from BOOGIE NIGHTS to THE MIST, he is always incredible and has an emotional depth and range to bring any character he plays to life. Fleshes them out, and makes them real. Jane’s affability rolls over into his character, where he’s the “cool” high school teacher. His students like him, and we like him.
Rob Lowe gives his finest dramatic performance as Jonathan, the broken doctor who set out to help people, make them better, give them hope. He turns into the biggest hypocrite of all, and sells prescriptions to his wealthy patients, and loses himself, and the oath he took, and somewhere before that, loses his wife and son. His wife is remarried and their son calls the stepfather Daddy. Jonathan is a broken man who has lost his way, much like the rest of them, slowly going through life without any progressive momentum.
The four actors: Jane, Lowe, Piven and McKay give soul bearing performances. I can’t think of many ensemble casts that not only provide the best they can be as an actor, but also showing us an incredible emotional range. This film is truly special, and it is remarkable in every way possible. I’ve been watching films seriously for the past fifteen years, and there has not been a film that is grounded in reality and as heavy, deep, moving and self reflective as I MELT WITH YOU. After all this film is about the purest form of love, and these four love each other so much, they stop the world and truly do melt with each other.
This film is available to stream on Netflix and Amazon Prime.
Steven Soderbergh’s King of the Hill is grotesquely underrated, an absolutely fantastic movie that feels like a unique anomaly in the filmmaker’s eclectic oeuvre. Released in 1993, this was the indie master’s third film, after the breakout success of the highly influential Sex, Lies, and Videotape in 1989, which was followed up in 1991 by the little seen, black and white oddity Kafka, which is better than its reputation suggests, but still not a 100% success. Still finding his voice as a filmmaker at the time, King of the Hill is a painterly, 1930’s set drama that looks at the harsh realities facing a family during the Great Depression. The film would find warm critical embrace after a rocky Cannes Film Festival debut, and was one of the first releases from Universal’s independent label Gramercy Pictures. King of the Hill flopped at the box office, grossing just over $1 million in the United States; I’m not even sure if an international theatrical release was attempted. Featuring a cast of child actors and extremely talented character players rather than big Hollywood stars, the film was always going to face a struggle to get noticed, which is a shame, because this is the warmest, most emotional movie of Soderbergh’s often cold and clinical career as a filmmaker. I’ve long been fascinated with his lightning quick turnaround in between projects, how he often times shoots and edits his own features, and how he’s been able to swiftly move from genre to genre throughout the last 26 years, almost always with spectacular results. He’s made experimental, form-pushing movies for himself and has also been able to play at the top ranks of the studio level, delivering big box office when needed. Up front: I’ve not seen a Soderbergh movie that I haven’t liked on some sort of level, and a few of them, most notably Schizopolis, Out of Sight, The Limey, Traffic, The Informant!, and Contagion, are films I feel to be masterpieces for the filmmaker, and his late-career run of Magic Mike, Haywire, and Side Effects were a total triple threat of genre skewering brilliance. His recent work on the Cinemax series The Knick is bold and convention breaking, infusing a period atmosphere (a turn of the century NYC hospital) with his modern camera style and anachronistic musical choices. But it’s King of the Hill that feels so remarkably different for Soderbergh as a director, a movie that he made almost in response to his down and dirty indie cred that he had developed on his first two features, looking to expand his abilities and further confound his critics.
A young Jesse Bradford is Aaron, a 12 year old boy who is struggling to survive on his own in a shabby motel after his mother is sent to a hospital for having tuberculosis, and his father is forced to hit the road as a travelling salesman. Set in the Midwest, King of the Hill painfully examines the disintegration of the family unit and the crushing reality of the “American dream” for so many people during that turbulent time period. Heartbreakingly, Aaron is also forced to say good bye to his younger brother, who is sent off to live with moneyed relatives who thankfully offer to lend a helping hand. Bradford is extraordinary in this film, conveying desperation, hope, humility, and humor, all sometimes within the same scene, as he learns to navigate the uncertain and sad situation that he’s found himself in. There’s one unforgettable sequence that shows him, in an act of starvation and imagination, cutting out pictures of food items (a chicken breast, potatoes, corn, a pad of butter) from a magazine, which he then plates, mentally examines, and eats with a fork and knife, trying to approximate the taste of the food through the flavorless morsels of paper. The way Soderbergh directed this film was perfect, really. Scene after scene of poignant drama unfolds, with moments of honest laughter spiking the edges, and it’s a testament to Soderbergh’s involvement with the material that the film never feels overbearing or maudlin. He also avoids cheap sentimentality, so even when things might be taking a turn for the better, you’re left with the implicit understanding that things could just as easily unravel all over again. Soderbergh got as close to these characters as he’s ever possibly been as a storyteller with one of his narratives, telling a wonderfully humanist story that anyone can relate too. A teenaged Katherine Heigl makes a strong supporting turn as Bradford’s potential girlfriend, while Jeroen Krabbe is perfectly cast as Bradford’s German immigrant father, a man who believes in the “Tough Love” school of parenting, and while not the most trustworthy of men, he makes the case that for all his faults, he truly loves his sons, despite doing some things that in retrospect seem a tad harsh. Karen Allen, Spalding Grey, Elizabeth McGovern, and a barely able to shave Adrien Brody all round out the excellent cast with memorable, scene-stealing moments, further underscoring Soderbergh’s inherent gift for casting.
Shot on gorgeous Super 35 film by Elliot Davis and fully utilizing the 2.35:1 widescreen aspect ratio, Soderbergh crafted what’s undoubtedly his prettiest movie to date, a film that he feels is “too pretty,” a comment that can be heard while watching the highly informative interview that’s included on the superlative Criterion Collection Blu-ray platter. He seems curiously disappointed with himself as a filmmaker in regards to King of the Hill, openly stating that he wished he had shot the film in a more rough and tumble, grittier fashion, which is more in line with his late era work and aesthetic. But I think one of the best things about King of the Hill is how the film is overwhelmingly beautiful at times, evoking a lost, calamitous era, with the juxtaposition of the luscious images bouncing off the hard-scrabble nature and plight of the characters. The production design is supremely evocative of a long ago era, forever lost to pictures in books, with period appropriate cars and clothes filling the frame without ever coming off as precious or ostentatious. Soderbergh has often been a filmmaker, much like David Fincher, who likes to look back at his work and talk about the problems that he sees and how he’d do things differently if he were to make the movie all over again. This must be a constant source of mental nagging and anguish for storytellers, as the best of them are always challenging themselves to make their movies better and more artistic. While I don’t agree with the criticisms that he throws at himself, I can respect him for having the hunger and desire to critically look at his own work from more than two decades ago and contemplate what he’d like to have a chance to redesign or reinterpret. But in its current form, King of the Hill stands as a serious, important work for Soderbergh as a craftsman, and easily rests as one of his finest overall efforts.
Episode 3 guys! Enjoy!
Bob Fosse’s criminally underrated final film from 1983, Star 80, was clearly a work ahead of its time. The film is a showcase for a brilliant performance by Eric Roberts — his work in this film is some of the sleaziest acting I’ve ever seen in any movie, and the idea that he wasn’t nominated for an Oscar literally boggles the mind. If this film were released this year, he’d be a front runner. Mariel Hemingway was perfectly cast as the ultimate innocent dream girl, so supremely naïve and honest and pure of heart, that she never stood a chance. For the unfamiliar, Star 80 tells the gripping true story of Playboy Playmate Dorothy Stratten (Hemingway), who was “discovered” at age 17 by a pimp/hustler named Paul Snider (Roberts), who breaks her out of her reserved shell, and brings her to the attention of the people at Playboy, who then made her into a brief star in the early 80’s (after posing nude she landed some bit TV and movie parts and caught the romantic eye of director Peter Bogdanovich), before she was cruelly murdered by Snider, after his descent into total and utter madness. This is an incredibly sad film, reminding me in many respects of last year’s equally chilling true life murder story Foxcatcher — both films expertly detail the inescapable reality of death, and how sometimes there are innocent people thrown into the orbit of a sociopath who will change their lives forever. Fosse delves deep into Snider’s mind, crafting the narrative more around him than Stratten, so as a result, you really get an up close and personal view of a man coming apart at the seams, and Roberts was more than up to the task with this emotionally turbulent piece of acting. Simply put, I’ve never seen a better performance from this legendary character actor, who over the years has become a go-to-guy for B-movie sliminess, but in Star 80, he was the center attraction, turning in a fascinating if disgusting portrayal of a man destroyed by his own ego, jealousy, limitations, and overwhelming desire to be loved. For her part, Hemingway conveys a natural ease which soon gives way to shards of paranoia and uncertainty; what Stratten saw in Snider will forever be a mystery, and it’s devastating to think that a woman like her would have ever crossed paths with a degenerate like Snider. And to notice the nods and influences that this film has had on other filmmakers was enlightening; there’s a scene towards the beginning where Roberts is flexing in the mirror, admiring his toned body and genitals, and it comes off exactly like the early sequence in Paul Thomas Anderson’s masterpiece Boogie Nights were Walbergh is checking himself out in his bedroom, making muscles in the mirror, talking himself up about how he’s going to be “a big star.” And the faux interview cut-ins that Fosse peppers the film with may have influenced Richard Linklater on his underrated crime film Bernie, which provided Jack Black with the best material he’s ever been given as an actor. But back to Star 80 — gorgeous and lit like a goddess by Fosse and his brilliant cinematographer Sven Nykvist, Hemingway projects an almost ethereal quality at times, which makes it all the more morbid to see what ultimately becomes of her. With expert editing by Alan Heim that ratchets up the tension and suspense, especially during the almost unbearable final sequence, Star 80 commands the viewer’s attention, never becoming anything less than riveting, and with Nykvist’s crisp, unfussy images and Fosse’s confident directorial hand telling this chilling story, the viewer is left with a lump in their throat by the conclusion. While never being exploitive, Fosse doesn’t shy away from the gruesomeness of Snider’s appalling final act on this planet, and the power that Star 80 demonstrates and culminates with is impossible to deny.