I’m not usually very stoked on Adam Sandler movies, I’ll say that right off the bat. I mean, there’s a lucky select few that are either geniunly funny or have nostalgic value (Happy Gilmore, Big Daddy and the absurdly fascinating Little Nicky come to mind), but he’s just such a ball of cancer onscreen it’s hard to actively see his stuff. The Wedding Singer, however, is a really sweet little movie, and works well thanks to an impressive 80’s soundtrack and the presence of Drew Barrymore, who frequently hangs around in Sandler’s stuff. He plays Robbie Hart here, a singer who belts out the hits of the 1980’s at weddings, parties, you name it. After being left at the alter by his fiance, he spots waitress Julia (Barrymore), who uncannily seems to be working every event she is. The two form a bond, but she is engaged to another dude (Matthew Glave), who quickly is revealed to be kind of a jerkoff, prompting Robbie to go to great lengths to prove, and win Julia’s heart. The film makes the absolute most of its setting, as any period piece should. The music is a delight, right down to the amusing dawn of the ‘CD’, and a great little cameo from a rock legend aboard an airline. Some of the usual troupe of Sandler disciples pop up here, including Christine Taylor, Allen Covert, Kevin Nealon, Peter Dante, Jon Lovitz and Steve Buscemi, who can be counted on to appear in pretty much any Adam flick you can think of. Sandler and Barrymore handle the comedic romance well and have decent chemistry (perhaps while theyre always paired). It’s light, sweet, carried on by the rockin soundtrack and detailed production design.
Oren Moverman’s Time Out Of Mind is a film that’s set so decidedly against the grain when it comes to how a story is presented to audience, it’s no wonder that it has been such a divisive experience. It’s almost like the anti-film. I understand it may be quite shocking the way it’s made, or lack thereof. But to hear that people walked out of screenings in droves at TIFF really saddens me. For someone to just not jive with the loose, dreamy aesthetic that serves the subject matter achingly well makes me wonder. But I suppose this is the type of film that really separates those with the power of abstract thought and the will to immerse themselves from those… without. The story in question concerns a homeless man in New York City played to absolute perfection by a haggard, boozed up and ultimately lost Richard Gere. This is the performance of his career, an outing of pure bravery and dedication that glues your eyes to the screen even in the most mundane of moments. You see, Gere himself had no idea when the cameras were periodically filming him, and was actually left stranded in the jungle of NYC, deep in the mindset of a lost soul, creating a minimilist performance that burns through the haze of a life scattered by tragedy. Little is given by the script in terms of back story for Gere, subtle hints given towards a broken life, death in the family and a mysterious injury which has left both body and soul scarred, as well as leaving him with obvious brain damage. If their was an award given out for best film title of the year, this one has earned it. ‘Time Out Of Mind’. Isn’t that the perfect description for a shattered psyche that has been set adrift by life’s cruel tides and left to wander the years, alone.. distraught.. damaged. Gere is a portrait of hurt, confusion and lonliness, wandering the overbearing maze of the city, desperately clinging to any semblance of dignity, as well as the scattered shards of his past that he yearns for. He’s got a daughter (Jena Malone in a conflicted career best) who wants nothing to do with him, making us wonder more about the past. He encounters several people over the course of the film. An energetic fellow vagrant (Ben Vereen) helps bring out a bit of Gere’s dormant coherence via his own nonsensical mania. A shrewd building inspector (Steve Buscemi) gives him the boot from a condemned building. He has a chance romantic encounter with a fellow homeless woman (an unrecognizable Kyra Sedgwick). The film is shot, edited and presented to the audience in a form completely void of structure or narrative beats. Gere wanders aimlessly, his foggy mental state reflected in the way his perceives his world, and in turn the way we perceive his story. It’s both ironic and fitting that we find ourselves so drawn in to a story that is presented as a set of events that are each and every one astray from any sort of cohesion. That’s where the title is so brilliant and touching.. Gere is one step removed from reality via time and injury. He himself mentions at one point that he has forgotten how long it’s been, and that he’s lost the thread of his life via many instances of ‘lost time’. Gere sells it and then some, inhabiting the streets with a worn out, ghostly presence that begs you to place yourself in the shoes and mind of someone who truly has lost their way in life, and to see that for them, such a fork in the road can truly change the concept of time. Seeing this successfully done with film in every aspect was truly an experience for me. Gere is the heart of it, as the camera peers out on him from trash strewn alleys, broken window frames and desolate, uncaring streets that leave him all but invisible, an individual manifestation of a sad fact of life which sometimes sits on the fringes of our awareness. Not with this film.