Focus Features

Somewhere

mandy — Tue, 11 Jan 2011 09:00:00 +0000

It’s hard to give a shit about the rich. The beautiful and the damned don’t stir much sympathy. All the angst of moneyed loneliness seems… slight, when compared to poor and ugly people who feel lonely. Pity should be reserved for people the world shuts out, not those who shun the world’s embrace. Sofia Coppola’s new movie, Somewhere, is about the sadness of having everything. Luckily, it’s not as bad as you might think.

At the Chateau Marmont—an opulent hotel with an edgy reputation—we meet a famous actor (Stephen Dorff) who is feeling isolated. He spends his days by the pool, or watching pole dancers perform for him in his hotel room. He receives anonymous text messages telling him he’s an asshole. He drives his fast car, in circles, on a deserted race track. And he tries, fitfully, to be father, though there’s a sense in which he thinks his daughter is too good for him. She, fortunately, loves her dad. And together, they are charming.

As the dissolute dad, Dorff looks like a men’s fragrance advertisement. He’s got so many stomach muscles. His tattoos are winningly rebellious. His looks devil-may-care when he smokes. Even though he’s a scarcely-articulate douchebag with the intellectual life of a palm tree, you still want to hang out with him.

Elle Fanning has been in showbiz since an agent cut her umbilical cord (she had her first major screen credit at age two), so it really is a stretch for her to play a non-actor. She’s innocent as a lily in Somewhere, and she easily presents the strongest argument as to why anyone should care about Dorff's character. Her role is to be authentic; a real person in a morass of phonies. Thankfully, she isn’t given the kind of precocious wisdom children are often endowed with in this kind of movie. Instead, Fanning gets to play a girl who seems entirely normal, who doesn’t see her uncertain future or how painful adolescence is going to be.

The photographer Helmut Newton died, age eighty-three, when the Cadillac he was driving crashed into a wall outside the Chateau Marmont. After a lifetime celebrating excess, even his death seemed glamorous. Not many octogenarians die in this way. The fact that Somewhere is set in the cloistered walls of a celebrity retreat, and not in a mall in Boise, Idaho, is because Coppola knows depression is easier to look at when it’s dressed in pearls. Her movie is elegant and perceptive. But poor people have it worse.

Read the full review at Movie Waffle

Written by: James Tatham, January 11th 2011

Biutiful

caitlin — Tue, 30 Nov 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Directed by Alejandro González Iñárritu

Focus Features

Alejandro González Iñárritu’s latest film, Biutiful, survives on the quality of its performances but suffers under the morose weight of Iñárritu’s bleak worldview. It is not a surprise that Biutiful is obsessed with the darker side of life—after all, this is from the same director that created Babel and 21 Grams. Yet it remains a surprise that Iñárritu’s direction fails to actually believe in what it’s saying; though the film seeks to illustrate the personal redemption and spiritual acceptance of its protagonist, its uplifting moral is beaten down by Iñárritu’s apparent desire to fill the film with as much awfulness as possible.

Biutiful tells the story of Uxbal, a father of two who makes his living as a middleman organizing work for illegal immigrants in Barcelona. Uxbal is also able to speak to the recently deceased, passing their final messages to those left behind, a task for which he reluctantly accepts payment. The film follows Uxbal as he comes to terms with his impending death, trying to prepare himself, his estranged bipolar wife, and his children for what is to come.

Unfortunately, Iñárritu’s direction seems to work against the narrative thrust of the film; as Uxbal accepts his mortality and attempts to leave behind a positive legacy, the film becomes more focused on the horrors of death. Halfway through the film the viewer has seen Uxbal urinate bloody urine (multiple times), a close-up of a decaying corpse, and an image of Bardem’s wasted figure wearing a diaper in the shower. All of these horrible images undercut Iñárritu’s narrative of redemption and acceptance.

The film sustains itself on the strong performances of its two leads, Javier Bardem and Maricel Álvarez. Javier Bardem provides the perfect mix of darkness and light in his portrayal of Uxbal. His portrayal is earnest, and it is hard to imagine any other actor so skillfully portraying a man decaying physically while strengthening spiritually. His performance is matched only by Maricel Álvarez’s portrayal of his bipolar wife, Marambra. Álvarez, a well-known performer in Argentina, shines in her first film performance. Her portrayal of Marambra is rich and complicated, and not the caricatured representation of bipolarity often portrayed on screen. She does more than hold her own against the raw power of Bardem’s Uxbal. It is unfortunate that such outstanding performances are drowned by Iñárritu’s melancholic direction. It’s perhaps more unfortunate that Iñárritu seems to have drowned his own message under the weight of his telling it.

Written by: Joanna Chlebus, November 29th 2010

It’s Kind of a Funny Story

mandy — Fri, 15 Oct 2010 08:00:00 +0000

Directed by Ryan Fleck, Anna Boden

Focus Features

It’s not very often that people take the time to explore the mind of a teenager and it’s even less frequent that this exploration takes place on the Silver Screen. In the current cultural climate, teenagers are nearly an endangered species; 1.6 million are homeless, and those fortunate enough to have a roof over their heads face daily struggles with bullying, body image, sexual predators, and the intense stress of a failing educational system. Even, or maybe especially, those of privilege, who come from stable homes and elite educational institutions are crippled by an overwhelming expectation to succeed.

In It's Kind of a Funny Story Craig (Keir Gilchrist) is one of the latter: a white, upper class, sixteen-year-old whose anxiety level is so unbearable that he checks himself into a psychiatric ward out of fear that he may commit suicide. Merely moments after being committed, Craig is faced with the reality of his decision—a schizophrenic wanders the halls shouting, his roommate hasn’t left his bed for weeks, and hospital policy requires Craig stay for a minimum of five days. Except for the presence another young patient, Noelle (played by the charming Emma Roberts), Craig is certain he doesn’t belong there. Yet, over the course of a school week, Craig receives an alternate education in life, love, and self-discovery. And believe it or not, it is kind of a funny story.

Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck, who co-wrote and co-directed the film, have an exceptional ability for constructing emotionally vibrant stories that focus on what are often perceived to be deviant relationships. In 2006’s award-winning Half Nelson, the duo chronicled the cathartic friendship between a meth-addicted middle school teacher and his adolescent student. It's Kind of a Funny Story also utilizes this dynamic to further explore the invisible barrier between youth and adults when Craig befriends Bobby (Zack Galifianakis), a fellow patient more than twice his age. And just as Half Nelson created a space for the unheard voices of addicts and an inner city youth, It's Kind of a Funny Story breaks the silence of another pair of marginalized groups: teenagers and the mentally ill.

Gilchrist is effectively genuine in portraying Craig’s awareness of his inner turmoil while lacking the ability to articulate it. Instead of weighing down the script with gratuitous dialogue, the film’s journey into Craig’s mind through the use of flashback, animation, and one kick-ass rock 'n roll fantasy provides a subtle testament to arts education. Though his role in The Hangover has practically guaranteed Galifianakis a career as the peculiar yet hilarious sidekick, It's Kind of a Funny Story offers the North Carolina School of the Arts alum an opportunity to transcend typecasting and delve into a more nuanced and dimensional character. Galifianakis nails it. Without saying a word, he has the ability to be both hilarious and touching while offering Craig a chance to do what he was unable to on the outside: just live. Free from confines of parental expectations and a highly competitive peer group, Craig liberates not only himself, but those around him.

Ultimately, the lesson in this film is one of perspective. It's Kind of a Funny Story is a heartfelt reminder that even flawed adults can be role models and the minds of the youth are worth inhabiting.

Written by: Alicia Sowisdral, October 15th 2010

Babies

admin — Mon, 17 May 2010 08:00:00 +0000

Directed by Thomas Balmès

Focus Features

I just got back from seeing the documentary Babies. I have to say that it was great! Director Thomas Balmès followed four babies from four countries for a little over a year each. The movie is mostly without dialogue, except for the little bit of the parents' talking. It is mostly shot from the baby's level, and is organized by the developmental stages of babies' lives. This choice was a great way to highlight each culture and keep the movie flowing.

I really enjoyed seeing the differences in parenting and lifestyles. I found Ponijao, the baby from Namibia, to be the most interesting. The parenting style there was extremely community oriented, though men seemed to have no place in parenting there. This collective parenting made it hard to tell who the baby's mother was through much of the movie.

Bayar, from Mongolia, lives on a family farm. It's amazing to see how closely he grows up with the animals and how he is given a lot of freedom. It's also interesting that his parents seem to take a very removed roll. Although the mother is an active parent at times, Bayar tends to be left to his own devices or with a slightly older sibling.

Japanese Mari was raised in a very Western manner, with her mother taking her to prearranged play dates and having her interact with toys produced by the baby industry. In California, Hattie grows up with a ton of toys and books. She goes to organized baby-centered activities, but otherwise is very solitary. Out of all the babies' fathers, Hattie's seems to be the most involved in his child's life.

Babies does a great job of staying silent; there is no voice-over commentary or focus on the parents apart from when they are interacting with their child. That said, I think the filmmaker intended to create a discussion about parenting, but Babies could easily act as a way to create an Other by creating a divide between Western and non-Western worlds. Although it shows how babies are similar overall, cultural and economic divisions and not providing context and commentary makes it too easy to view those from non-Western cultures as outsiders.

When watching the film it's hard to remember that these are sample sizes of one, which makes it easy to critique the parenting style of, say, the Japanese parents because there are more than a few scenes of Mari being crabby. But she could easily have colic or be teething or it could just be a result of her parents' individual style, not a reflection of Japanese society as a whole. Similarly, Babies makes it seem as though this Mongolian family is completely removed from parenting, when it could be the economic pressures they face that creates a need for both of Bayar's parents to work.

I noticed some negative reactions in the theater. The film shows breastfeeding, which elicited a small gasp from another patron, and there were also some inappropriate reactions to the children in two of the cultures who were regularly without pants. I think these reactions tell a lot about Americans biases, and how these negative views make natural choices difficult for many mothers.

Other than these few things, Babies was amazing. I'd definitely suggest it to anyone who has an interest in children or parenting. I would just make sure the person understands that these are glimpses into the lives of individuals, and while the people featured may represent a part of their culture, they are not necessarily representative of the culture as a whole.

Cross-posted at Squirrely Mama

Written by: Cheryl Friedman, May 17th 2010

Thirst

admin — Tue, 18 Aug 2009 10:08:00 +0000

Directed by Park Chan-Wook

Focus Features

Some say the mark of a great film is that it defies our expectations. If that's the case, then Oldboy director Park Chan-wook's latest should be considered one of the best. Thirst is the story of a Catholic priest who becomes a vampire, and has thus earned the label of a horror flick, but the film itself is virtually genre-proof. Sure, the experience of watching it was somewhat similar to that of any slasher, in that I had to cringe and turn my head away from the gore from time to time (an embarrassing admission for a film reviewer). But the sheer variety and complexity of the thoughts and emotions Thirst conjured makes it much more than just "horror" and, frankly, much more than just another film.

Appropriately, Thirst is a feast for the senses, Park's sound and visuals quickly tumbling toward the operatic as priest Sang-Hyun (The Host's Song Kang-ho) surrenders more and more to his vampiric desires. Sang-Hyun's addictive relationship with the young Tae-Joo (Kim Ok-vin) nearly puts him—and us—on sensory overload. Park acknowledges—or rather, foreshadows—that this isn't necessarily a good thing, making their sex scenes alternately titillating and disgusting.

What's most startling, though, is how such carnality is often meshed with a hyperbolic, almost slapstick sense of humor. When Sang-Hyun "feeds," we find him lying on the floor of a hospital room, taking pulls from a patient's IV like he's sipping a milkshake through a straw. And when he and Tae-Joo sleep together for the first time, she literally has to pry his stubborn virginal legs apart to make it happen.

Park has dubbed his own film a "vampire melodrama," and there is definitely a strong classical Hollywood influence at play here. Tae-Joo is a modern update on the femme fatale of the '40s, right down to the way she convinces Sang-Hyun to murder her husband, clutching his shoulder a la Norma Desmond. And as in the best traditional noir films, it is she who steals the show and whose story we ultimately remember most. This is due in no small part to Kim, who is both classic and creative in her journey from a ghost of a young girl to a delightfully manipulative monster of a woman. To think that this young actor's career has only just begun is truly exciting.

Certain viewers may find it jarring to watch Thirst seamlessly shift from horror to dark comedy to suspense thriller to romance, but its themes of morality, guilt, and redemption are consistent and utterly powerful. For this reason alone, it is worth seeing, preferably on the big screen for the sake of Park's meticulous compositions, and if you're anything like me, you'll crave a second viewing as soon as the end credits roll.

Written by: Caitlin Graham, August 18th 2009

Lust, Caution

admin — Sun, 28 Oct 2007 22:16:00 +0000

Directed by Ang Lee

Focus Features

Ang Lee seems to have a thing for short story adaptations and violent sexual encounters. While I respect much of Lee’s previous work and believe he often possesses masterful vision, Lust, Caution is a sadistic, repulsive disaster.

Lee takes great liberties with this pseudo-drama portraying an amateur conspiracy against a prominent Japanese collaborator in 1940s occupied China. Stylistically mirroring acclaimed director Wong Kar-Wai (and featuring one of Kar-Wai’s notorious leads, Tony Leung Chiu-Wai), Lee sets his so-called period piece in a generic bustling, dirty city that has no more resemblance to Shanghai than Paris. Tang Wei plays Tang Chia Chi, also known as Mrs. Mak, the lure for Chiu-Wai’s Mr. Yee. At first, her role is simply to act as a distraction while her deeply nationalistic fellow acting students find a way to assassinate this top-ranking Japanese official. But quickly, the twisted affair becomes serious, leading Chia Chi into dangerous territory. Unlike the female spies before her, her ruse goes undetected by her lover, and against all reason and rational emotion, Chia Chi finds herself falling for her brooding, dictator-like companion.

In addition to disturbingly graphic sexual escapades, the relationship is grounded in Yee’s abusive violence against Chia Chi. After being brutally raped during their first secret liaison, Chia Chi must fulfill her duty as a spy and go back for more. A range of interpretations might explain Yee’s behavior (testing the liability of potential mates in an unstable wartime environment, a hardcore S&M fetish), but I find no excuse for it all the same. While acknowledging a spectrum of eroticism and sexual desire, that we are to believe that any young woman would fall for this violently perverse man—let alone Chia Chi’s educated and otherwise fearless character—is insulting. While the lines between Chia Chi’s mission and personal feelings do blur, director Lee’s perpetuation of the rape culture myth that women will fall in love with their sexual assailants is revolting.

Maybe I should find it redeeming that Chia Chi’s armpits remain unshaven, much like my own. Perhaps I’m supposed to sympathize with high-ranking public figures who find it nearly impossible to retain love in the midst of being power-hungry sociopaths. Conceivably, I could be satisfied with the idea that love and sex are deeply complex. Yee is a distressingly sympathetic character at times, and that complexity is one of the movie’s few strengths. But I have no reassurance that this is a freak accident of a film, as Ang Lee is once again with the writing and production team that brought us Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon _and _Brokeback Mountain. This isn’t a random bad writer who roped a talented director into a project. This is a complete devastation of art and integrity.

This film should come with a trauma advisory in addition to its NC-17 rating. At a tedious two and a half hours, _Lust, Caution _ended my relationship with Ang Lee, whose previous work I found beautiful and reflective. But there is nothing appealing or even civil about violent rape, or the pretense that sexual violence is a prelude to love.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, October 28th 2007