Josh Radnor flunks out in LIBERAL ARTS

       Josh Radnor, fresh off his previous, indie-acclaim film, Happythankyoumoreplease (2010), is back as writer-director-star of another dialogue-driven comedy, Liberal Arts. The cast is very attractive, the tone is light and cute, but regrettably, the conversations and character interrelationships are lackluster.

       Josh Radnor portrays Jesse, a lonely, thirty-something bachelor who gets a call from his old college professor, played by Richard Jenkins, who invites him to come down to the university for his farewell retirement dinner. Jesse leaves the hustle-and-bustle of New York City and enters the lush greens of a quaint college campus.

       During his visit, Radnor becomes smitten by Elizabeth Olsen’s character, Zibby, a 19 year-old sophomore. At this juncture, the script falls flat at creating a deft connection between two people who like one another, but are not sure if their age difference will cause friction. Jesse has difficulty expressing his emotions. He has to let Zibby control and dictate the direction that their relationship is moving in. They walk and talk, sit and talk, and walk and talk some more. Their conversations take place at various locations—a coffee shop, outside on campus, inside her dorm room and a cathedral. When you have to change-up the locations for a getting-to-know-you conversation, it’s a sign that the dialogue doesn’t resonate any deeper than the various backdrops.

       Throughout the film, Jesse meets and interacts with an assortment of supporting characters on campus. There’s the hippie-freeloader (Zach Efron), the depressed lone-wolf (John Magaro),and then the mean-spirited lady professor, played with a superb, dryly comic sarcasm by Allison Janney. When you make a film where the lead actor engages in separate conversations with the supporting cast, it’s almost like a clichéd rule in screenwriting that the main actor has to follow through with all of those minor interactions. Not necessarily true. The great thing about independent filmmaking is that you don’t have to tie in every loose end, or at least, try to. It’s okay to leave the supporting characters behind in order to develop more meaning for the protagonist.

       As much as I smiled at the goofball- hippie-stereotype that Zach Efron portrayed, his character seemed to have little-to-nil impact on Josh Radnor. Screen time is precious, and when you feel like a character doesn’t have much of an effect on the film overall, then that’s where you say….can we cut it?

       With that said, Liberal Arts is awfully predictable. I know the structure isn’t the focal point; it’s the characters and humor, but for the opening night screening, I wanted to venture into the “unknown.” Every piece on the chess board moved precisely where I predicted.

       Conversely, I do give kudos to Radnor for writing, directing, and starring in his own film. I liked the premise, the charismatic performances and the laidback tone, but I wasn’t sold on the relationship between Olsen and Radnor; it felt forced and untrue. When it comes to witty and humanistic observations of couples, filmmakers always strive for the intellectual depth of Woody Allen, but we all can’t be like Woody.

** (out of four stars)

 

The Dallas International Film Festival Kicks Off at the Majestic Theater

       There’s a plethora of press and a limited amount of space by the red carpet. How the hell can you get an interview? The incessant wind is blowing throughout the downtown area. Every woman wearing a skirt is giving their best Marilyn Monroe impression from the Seven Year Itch (1955) At 6:00 o’clock, the talent made their way through the red carpet. In order to snag a one-on-one interview, you have to be aggressive. Reporters, photographers and cameramen are literally stepping over one another. I felt more cramped than riding the NYC subway on a Monday morning. I enjoyed hearing the filmmakers and actors comments, but honestly, I really wanted to get into The Majestic Theater, which is an iconic venue in Dallas.



Claude Dal Farra - Producer of Liberal Arts

  Before the film began, the President and CEO of the Dallas Film Society welcomed the dignitaries of the festival. The first guest speaker was the Mayor of Dallas, Mike Rawlings. The Mayor gave your typical—I’m a supporter of the arts—speech, but for a politician, I was surprised to hear about his knowledge of European, auteur directors, such as Antonioni, Fellini and Godard. The next honoree was the Chairman of Board of Cinemark theaters, Lee Roy and Tandy Mitchell. There was a mini documentary on the start and growth of the ever-present stadium seating chain, which Cinemark practically revolutionized.      

       Afterwards, one of the producers of Liberal Arts (opening gala screening), Claude Dal Farra, gave a speech, articulating his role in the filmmaking process with his all-too-charming French accent. However, the spotlight of Opening Night was James Faust, the artistic director of the festival. The audience cheered as he made his way to the podium. Faust’s hard work and dedication in the film society has made the Dallas International Film Festival a more glamorous and receptive venue.

THE KID WITH A BIKE strives for realism

                Cyril is a troubled adolescent in search of emotional support. He’s rebellious and angry—fighting, biting and causing self-inflicted wounds. His father abandoned him and he’s forced to live in foster care. The only emotional attachment is a bike, which he recovered after his father sold it for money.
         The Kid with a Bike follows the uncomplicated, yet poignant journey of a lost boy in need. Similar to Truffaut’s groundbreaking new-wave film, The 400 Blows (1959) and borrowing minimalistic elements from Italian Neo-realism, The Kid with a Bike prospers in keen observation, rather than a self-indulgent style. The camera is appropriately hand-held and utilizes a more natural cinematography, and lacks a musical score. 
         The primary focus is the turbulent, implosive anguish of Cyril, and the audience empathizes with his pain. The filmmakers don’t waste any time establishing the central conflict. In the opening scene at the foster home, Cyril is on the phone, trying to track down his absentee father. He uses every resource he has to try and fill his void. The film is also about the heartbreaking realization that Cyril can never get his needs met. The bike is a symbol of the love he’ll never receive—an extension of the past he yearns for.
                 The plot advances when the town hairdresser, Samantha, agrees to extend a helping hand, and take care of Cyril on the weekends. In his attempt to salvage a vanished relationship with his father, Cyril is blinded by the newfound love he has right next to him, which is Samantha. When angry boys can’t find love from within their family, they go searching for it in dangerous places—acceptance can mean a lot, even if it’s from bad influences. The boy is lured by a conniving teenager, who uses him for criminal activity.  There’s a scene where the teenager takes him home to his house and lets him play a videogame in his room. Since there isn’t any dramatic music or extraneous close-ups, it’s hard to tell how the situation will develop. The minimal style truly increases the suspense and intrigue.                 
         Towards the end of the film, the writers-and-directors imply a change in the boy’s erratic behavior. In the scene where Samantha and Cyril are riding together, Cyril suggests to try riding Samantha’s mountain bike. The scene conveys Cyril’s willingness to let go of the past and try something new—accepting the reality of his situation. The filmmakers express this message by visual action, rather than explain it in dialogue or voice-over. The Kid with a Bike ends on a sad, yet thoughtful note. The very last scene surmises everything that Cyril’s missing; the protective bond between father and son.


*** ½ (out of four stars)

DETACHMENT will have you running for charter schools

Detachment is a dark and dreary film about a substitute teacher who lands himself a position teaching English at a hardcore, inner-city public school, hoping to inspire our troubled youth. Oscar-winning actor, Adrian Brody, delivers an edgy performance as the protagonist, Henry Barthes. Barthes drifts from school to school, avoiding any sentimental attachments to both faculty and students. In the course of the all-too-familiar narrative—the out-of-place teacher trying to make a difference—Barthes consoles his most promising, artistic student and offers shelter to a teenage prostitute, Erica, played to near perfection by newcomer Sami Gayle.

       The grim affect of the film’s blatantly melodramatic handling divided my reaction. I was quite impressed with director Tony Kaye's gritty visual grammar, but the bleak tone and calculated turn of events left an all-around icky taste in my mouth. The writer hammers the audience with the obvious, dark literary references of Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Fall of the House of Usher,” mixed with footage of the protagonist rambling on about his existential role in a doomed society. Don’t get me wrong; I hold a special place for the dark and disturbed, but the cynical material is too stuffy and over-dramatic for its own good.

       If you want to watch a film about the cold existence of a main character, checkout Michael Fassbinder as a sex addict in the raw and powerful Shame (2011). Although I agree with the filmmakers’ social and political outcry, regarding the public education system—elite, bureaucratic, and more concerned with the income bracket of their students, than the students themselves—I wanted to see a glimmer of light. Unfortunately, darkness prevails in Detachment. There’s always a spot of hope for our slacker generation; someone or something can be saved, but the writer refuses to see the opposite side of the spectrum. Sure, teenage prostitution, bullying, rape, drug use, and let’s not forget, bad teachers can gravely affect our youth, but when we see that there’s no other way except downhill, it’s hard to care about the characters, no matter how great the performances are.

      Detachment is a little film, made on a tight budget, utilizing a wandering, hand-held camera. Conversely, the material, script and director attracted an A-list cast, including Marcia Gay Harden, James Caan, Tim Blake Nelson, Lucy Liu and Blythe Danner. This is Tony Kaye’s second big directorial effort since the classic, neo-Nazi morality tale, American History X (1998). The director employs various old-school film techniques, such as hand-cranked fast motion, over-exposure, assorted film stocks, black-and-white and 16 mm footage, and elementary stop-motion animation. It’s refreshing to see a modern film utilize practical in-camera effects to help unfold the narrative. To some extent, this back-to-basic technique emphasizes the richness of film itself, rather than indulging in the digital revolution.

     Detachment delves in the protagonist traumatic back-story, exhibiting snippets of 16 mm footage of the teacher as a boy. These images explain why he chooses to both extend and retract his hand to those in need, but sometimes, it’s more stimulating to hide the reasoning, and let the audience use their intelligence and imagination. The high school melodrama, seen through the eyes of the dysfunctional faculty, grabbed my attention, but with a top-notch cast and sharp director, I expected more from the script’s final draft.

** ½ (out of four stars)

New on DVD......THE DESCENDANTS

     The Descendants is a deeply moving story about a father trying to keep his family together in the midst of a crisis. George Clooney is the film's protagonist, Matt King, and it's one of the smartest and humanistic roles he's ever tackled. He's stuck in various dilemmas, which makes it harder for him to hold his sanity together, but he does. Matt King's wife is in a life-threatening coma, his teenage daughter is acting out, and to complicate matters, he's responsible for resolving a gigantic real estate deal, which Hawaiian locals are following.

     The male protagonist in most of Alexander Payne's films are successful from the outside, but a closer look, reveals a yearning for something greater than what they already have. His characters are forced to deal with unfamiliar emotions. In Election (1999), Matthew Broderick, a high school teacher, holds a trifling resentment over one his over-achieving students. In About Schmidt (2002), Jack Nicholson retires from a steady career, only to rediscover his identity. In Sideways (2004), Paul Giamatti struggles to become a serious novelist, rather than teach English for the rest of his life. The male complex in each of these film are diverse, but studied together, we see the unbearable frailty in confident men.

     George Clooney is superb. He balances a confident, stern father figure with confusion and vulnerability. I love how Matt King's opening voice-over presents him as a smart, productive and resourceful man, but the moment he realizes his wife's past infidelities, a child-like desperation overwhelms him. One of my favorite scenes in the film is when he's trying to play the calm and concerned parent, having a heart-to-heart with his wild daughter, and by the next scene, he's running down the street as if the cops are after him. Watching Clooney run barefoot is a comic delight. It's a small action, but again, we see how the director brings out the hurt little boy in the leading male.

     Besides Clooney, the entire supporting cast soars, including Beau Bridges, Robert Forrester, Mathew Lillard, and newcomer Shailene Woodley, who plays as the troubled teenage daughter, Alexandra King. Woodley's spark, attitude and underlying sadness is up-to-par with Clooney's performance. She's new to the big screen, but this film will boost her career to new heights.

     I think it's safe to say that the family crisis involving the mother is sad and tragic. Sure, the audience laughs when Clooney vents his anger on his comatose wife, but the reality of the situation is no laughing matter. Yet, leave it up to a thoughtful script to find humor and pathos in tragedy.

     The Descendants is Payne's most structured film. There really aren't scenes that veer off from the emotional core of the story, which is probably why I favor Sideways more. For example, in Sideways, the quartet split screen segment moves us away from the characters and the filmmakers playfully depict the spirit and landscape of the Californian wine country. Similar to Sideways, Payne integrates the Hawaiian backdrop in his latest film. The camera artfully captures the beauty of Hawaii, avoiding the typical post-card-touristy images that audiences are so familiar with. The Descendants is truly a bittersweet occasion; pain, humor and poignancy connect in spontaneous harmony, creating a unique tone. Don't miss this award-winning film.

*** ½ (out of four stars)

WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT KEVIN......before it's too late

     When I learned that We Need to Talk About Kevin was about a high school massacre, several films flashed through my mind, including Elephant (2003)—a stylistic expression of the everyday doldrums of teenage society, and Beautiful Boy (2010)—the destruction of a marriage whose son shot-up the local school.  The controversy of a school shooting leaves plenty of room for discussion. Are these teenagers evil? Are they the real enemy, or does the fault lie on outside influences, such as the parents and the mass media? We Need to Talk About Kevin delves into the emotional torment of a mother, whose son locked his school from the outside and performed an unfathomable school massacre. The filmmaker's narrative focus is the mother, Eva (Tilda Swinton), and her turbulent kinship with her son, Kevin, who's portrayed by three actors in different stages of his life.

     We Need to Talk About Kevin offers a powerhouse story, which is hard to shake off. The content and performances are up-to-par with the crafty unfolding of the narrative.  The audience isn't aware of the specifics of Kevin's violent actions until the end. The film seamlessly inter-cuts between the past—Kevin's upbringing, and the present—Eva, left in solitary, coping with the dreadful aftermath.

     Tilda Swinton's Oscar-nominated performance is extraordinary. Undercurrents of tension seep from her every gesture and facial expression.The first key scene behind Eva's psychological dimension is when she walks outside her front porch and observes her house and car vandalized with red paint. The core of the narration is built around the refurbishing of her new home, alone. The images of Eva trying to wash away the red paint is a clever metaphor for how difficult it is to hide her guilt and shame. No matter how hard she scrubs, she will always feel the blood on her hands.

     The film explores Kevin's childhood, which includes his relationship with his little sister, Celia (Ashley Gerasimovich), and father (John C. Riley). Riley, along with Swinton, delivered nuanced performances. Kevin always preferred his father over his mother. The father may seem oblivious, but I think the point is that Kevin was born with a cunning, deceptive bone in his body, which overpowers the control of his parents. He comes from a well-to-do family, but clearly, the pleasant social environment cannot tame the boy's inherent anger, which fuels his role as a sociopath. And why is he angry? Is it solely his mother's fault? In my opinion, the filmmaker's perception doesn't point a finger at anyone specific. I feel as though there wasn't anything that the parents could have done differently.

     As we learn more about the past and comprehend Kevin's hatred, we see that Eva could not foresee something this traumatic. The film builds to a bone-chilling conclusion, and the one image that will last in my mind is Kevin's room, which Eva furnished to match it before the tragic incident. He's never coming back, but the mother kept every detail from the past. A gesture, which speaks for itself.

*** (out of four stars) 

Life is hard, but BEING FLYNN is harder

Being Flynn is an engaging memoir about Nick Flynn, a young aspiring writer who reunites with his homeless, alcoholic father, who abandoned Nick and his mother 18 years prior. The indie comic-drama probes the flimsy tie that binds between parent and child. The film tells the true story of a young man, Nick (Paul Dano), who begins to work in a homeless shelter, which his father, Jonathan Flynn (Robert De Niro), is a frequent guest. De Niro's character unwittingly evolves into an insane, homeless derelict, but also aspires to become a classic writer. Filmmaker Paul Weitz reveals a perceptive portrayal of two struggling writers, estranged to each other, yet they both draw inspiration from their dysfunctional lives.
  Actor Paul Dano, who first proved his dramatic acting-chops in L.I.E. (2001), playing a latch-key child who confides with an elderly pedophile, rises to the occasion in Being Flynn. Dano maintains a wonderful balance with De Niro's offensive, comic-serious depravity. Although I was mildly disappointed with the shiftiness of both comedic and dramatic elements, which was painstakingly brilliant in Alexander Payne's The Descendants, the performances of both Dano and De Niro easily stood their ground.  
  Instead of falling into radical stereotypes of the homeless culture – abrasive and Bible-thumping streetwalkers – the writer steadily peels away Jonathan Flynn's dignity, until he develops a rugged look that requires him to take his free cup of coffee outside, rather than dine in at his favorite cafe. Watching De Niro rebel in a childish rage is an absolute joy to watch. Every detail in his physique—the chip tooth and wear-and-tear of his costume—is a reminder that no matter how many “Little Focker” sequels he signs up for, he's still one of the greatest method actors of our time, willing to go through any transformation that the script requires. A remarkable acting feat; even somewhat reminiscent of his classic portrayal in Taxi Driver (1976). 
One of the film's strengths is the dual voice-overs of both Jonathan and Nick. The subjective narrations of both Dano and De Niro displays a connection between two writers. The film digs into Nick's past childhood, to where he finds his mother, played by the talented Julianne Moore, dead in their home. These flashback scenes sets-up his character's descent into progressive drug and alcohol addiction. In the opening scene, his girlfriend discovers his dark poetry, which foreshadows both his substance abuse and inherent writing gifts. 
  Being Flynn ends on a rather odd note. I haven't read the memoir, "Another Bullshit Night in Suck City," which the film is based upon, but I assume there's more to the story the screenwriter could've developed. I loved Paul Dano's turbulent portrayal as Nick. I wanted a stronger focus on his relationship with his love interest, rather than his father. I can relate to Nick's anguish and struggle to define himself as an artist. Being Flynn entertained me more than disappointed. Since I've seen the film, none of my friends have heard about it. Even the name Robert De Niro doesn't attract the large majority. I think this is a good example how indie films get the low end of the marketing stick. I would be surprised how well it would've done with a wider distribution. 


*** (out of four stars)

Almodovar gets underneath THE SKIN I LIVE IN

      Pedro Almodovar is a filmmaker that doesn't believe in painting a subtle piece of work. Yes, paint splatters all over the canvas until our eyes can't take it anymore. His signature style involves pop use of bold colors, offhand plot structure, creative camera angles and sexually-charged images. We can understand more about the Spanish filmmaker as a person, than reading a case file. Actually, his films are his personal case file, and they express his sexual intuitions, fantasies, wicked sense of humor, and his undying love for film and theater. His characters are usually individuals who are shunned from normal society, but still, we always empathize. Almodovar, like auteur directors such as Quentin Tarantino and Brian De Palma (only when he writes and directs), is a playful filmmaker. He doesn't write for any particular audience, except for him. Put him in a sandbox, and he'll go all day, amusing himself. However, as long as he's amused, the audience is amused. Real film lovers can appreciate his scintillating concoctions, even if it borders on soap opera. The Skin I live In isn't his most fluid work; It's sort of a mess. Nevertheless, it's a mess that only a great filmmaker can make, and that hardcore Almodovar fans can appreciate. 

     The Skin I live In is a juicy, demented revenge thriller about a mad scientist (Antonio Banderas), whose life obsession is to create the perfect skin for a woman held captive in his home. On a societal level, the protagonist is a well-respected figure, but as usual, there’s a dark secret regarding the characters human nature. Now, this isn’t the entire storyline, but basically, the bulk of the premise. If I indulged any further in the plot, I’d spoil the film experience. The way Pedro Almdovar’s tells a story is like dropping a snake in mouse maze—it’s going to hit many corners, move back and forth, until it finally swallow its prize, but the real enjoyment is watching the sleek, unpredictable movements in the story.
        I’m a huge fan of Pedro Almdovar; he doesn’t hold anything back. In addition, one must admire a filmmaker who both writes and directs all of his work, and most of the time, it’s endlessly inventive. My main concern with this film is that there are too many back-story introductions behind every character. Sometimes, I think the viewers are bombarded with too much side information, and too many melodramatic plot twists, that it loses focus of the central story. As a result, the director’s intention toward the audience is abrasive; there’s a dark desire to convey shocking sexuality and eroticism, with little conviction and motivation.
    The Skin I Live In is a strange mélange of melodrama, thriller, noir, and a touch of horror. His recurrent themes of voyeurism, obsession, transgender, and sexual exploration are present in his latest effort. In addition, his central characters have an obsession for the human anatomy, most notably in Live Flesh (1997) and Talk to Her (2002) Almodovar pays homage to such horror classics as Eyes without a Face (1960) Bride of Frankenstein (1935), and other films that involve body parts or piecing together a human figure. 
    Besides the horror elements, there are influences from some of the greatest suspense classics, including Hitchock's Vertigo (1958) and Michael Powell's Peeping Tom (1960). For example, In Vertigo, Jimmy Stewart's obsession to change Kim Novack's physical characteristics to match a woman who he thinks is dead, is similar to Antonio Bandera's fixation to create the perfect skin on his captive guinea-pig. 
   However, The Skin I live In feels more like a campy melodrama than a horror film, and as fresh as his ideas are, he misses the suspense mark. I can’t say that I wasn’t entertained, because I was captivated by the provocative images. There are scenes of great power that feel like a highly-charged torpedo of conflicting sexual desires. His characters are sickly and deranged, but still, I wanted to see where they would end up in his obscure plotline. Overall, I think it’s worth seeing how far Almodovar pushes the envelope in his latest, kinky creation.

*** (out of four stars)

MARTHA MARCY MAY MARLENE is riveting from start to finish

            The cinematic interpretation of a cult can be dangerous territory. Filmmakers might feel compelled to take a controversial subject matter and veer off into the realm of sensationalism. Martha Marcy May Marlene is a haunting, beautifully shot film about a young runaway who’s lured into a backwoods cult. The writer/director, Sean Durkin, avoids any sensational attitudes toward the concept, bringing an indelible and humanistic approach towards this kind of surrogate family. The location is undisclosed, assuming that our protagonist, Martha, wonderfully played by Elizabeth Olsen, is not even sure where she is. We never see how she was picked-up and brought to the deranged rural community, and when she runs away, her only relevance of distance is that she’s three hours away from where her sister lives. The less we know, the more taunting the experience is.

           The film is essentially about Martha’s post-traumatic experience after fleeing the cult. The rural setting in the boonies is very similar to the infamous “ranch,” lead by Charles Manson in the late 60s. Actually, this film is probably the most realistic and empathetic interpretation of a cult experience, more so than any film about Charles Manson’s wrecked family of drug-induced followers. The writer/director doesn’t paint a family portrait of “evil-followers” per se, but instead, a keen observation of how our lost youth is brainwashed by a deceptively charming, patriarchal leader. First, we must believe, then, we follow.

            The narrative begins where Olsen escapes from the cult and reunites with her older sister and her wealthy husband. Her experience in the cult is told in flashback form; as her sketchy present behaviors become more apparent, the director explores how her past has shaped her paranoid mind frame. I absolutely love it when a film cuts back and forth in time without the use of screen titles and still follow a sensible format. There’s fluidity in the transitions, which reminded me of other films that smartly cut back and forth, from the present to the past, such as the impeccable Texas murder mystery, Lone Star (1996), and the heartbreaking deconstruction of a marriage in Blue Valentine (2010). The talent in these films’ structures lies in the script. The writers are carefully considering the audiences’ intelligence, especially when it comes to chronology. The flashback structure in Martha is cleverly outlined.  The director is saying that no matter how far the central character runs from her past, she can’t escape her haunted memories.

The cultish family is reminiscent of a hippie commune you might have heard about from the late 60s. We've read about Charles Manson and David Koresh, and have seen similar family settings in Easy Rider (1969); the people live off the land, spend their free time playing guitar and singing folk songs, and get by with the bare minimum. In a cult, there’s usually a leader. Indie-fave John Hawkes (Me, You, and Everyone We Know; Winter’s Bone) plays as the conniving patriarchal leader. He’s created a mysterious family full of youths who are brainwashed into believing in his preposterous society. On the surface, we think they are living a life based on pure existentialism, when in reality they are prepped to submit, both in violence and sex.

There are scenes of unhinged power that reveal the central purpose of the subculture.  Director Sean Durkin subtly explores Martha’s psychological damage. I love the look and feel of the film. The minimal approach to filmmaking best suites this complex subject matter. The cinematography is very natural, yet there’s a distinct correlation between light and dark tones in the images. The director wants the audience to observe the tiny details in the frame, and everything is meant to express Martha’s frightened reality. For example, there’s a scene in which Martha is sleeping on the floor in her bedroom. Her body is situated in the foreground. Suddenly, we see urine dampen her pink dress. In the background, a chair is propped against the door knob. This single image reveals so much about the character. Not only do we see that she suffers from nightmares, but according to the background detail of the chair, she’s beyond paranoid. This isn’t the kind of coke-induced paranoia Scorsese depicted in Goodfellas (1990), but the kind where the minute details spell out the protagonist’s present state of mind.

Martha Marcy May Marlene ends on a perfect note. The abrupt cut to black jolts our expectations, and leaves us craving for a clearer resolution. The film ends on a single idea, one that surmises the entire psychosis of the main character; paranoia follows wherever Martha goes, or are they really coming for her?

*** ½ (out of four)

DRIVE is one of the best films of the year

      Ryan Gosling portrays the quiet, yet surprisingly violent lone-wolf. He doesn’t talk much; he doesn’t need to. He only does what’s necessary. He works for everybody, but at the same time, he works for no one. He’s never attached or committed to one thing long enough to put himself in grave danger. He drives, that’s what he does, and he’s good. Damn good.
      Drive contains a super-cool, low-key rhythm. The film’s visual style is very controlled. Here is a director who understands the meaning of gritty suspense. Sometimes, less is more. Drive contains a plotline that could fit any action-type crime thriller, but the overall scintillating and stylish film grammar heightens the genre-like picture to a new and improved level. Drive never attempts to bombard the viewers with an operatic score, loud sound effects, and frantic editing. Hollywood action filmmakers need to take a few tips from director Nicolas Winding Refn.
      Drive opens with a heist, in which Gosling is the getaway driver. The point-of-view never leaves the driver. In a subtle movement of taunt suspense, we watch him wait in silence as his associates run out with the loot. He’s cool, calm and collected, but underneath, we sense this dark rage about him. The absence of sound and the limited perspective increases the intrigue. I think that most Hollywood action directors, for example, Michael Bay (Bad Boys, Transformers), would underestimate the audience, and attack their senses with never-ending police chases, helicopters, and an overwhelming score. This is no Bad Boys (1995). Drive is mainstream mixed with an artsy, European-like flavor. The film is no quick fix, either. The pacing, camerawork, and editing are nicely composited, exuding a near-perfect style, complementing an entertaining story and highly engaging protagonist.
      The story is essentially about the dark unfolding of a merciless character—a la Travis Bickle in Taxi Driver(1976). His portrayal in the beginning is quiet, but the brooding sense of a gasping explosion always lingers in the air. The stuntman driver gets mixed up in a botched-heist, involving stolen mob money. He’s forced in the job by his unintentional attraction for his neighbor, Irene, played by the talented, Carey Mulligan. The chemistry between the two leads is felt more by their body language than the dialogue. Furthermore, I love how scenes of sheer-cool romance are undercut by hardcore violence. Mulligan plays as a mother, taking care of her only child while her husband finishes his prison term. You can tell she’s smitten by Gosling, but both characters have a mutual respect for the conditions of their lives. Neither one decides to intrude, complicating matters, but more importantly, enjoy what they have. Gosling’s intentions are kind and loyal, but once you cross the line, there is no forgiving.
     There were certain instances and details in the film that drew my attention. In one scene, Carey Mulligan is preparing for her date with Ryan Gosling, and before the scene ends, we hear the phone ring in the background. The plot moves into the next scene, where the two leads discuss a crucial phone call in the film. A less intelligent director would probably think that the audience needs to see a shot of Irene picking up the phone, or an excerpt from the actual conversation. I love how sound, alone, can move the story forward, without a whole bunch of explanation in the dialogue. Subtlety and reasoning over the smallest details can make a world of difference. It’s important to question every scene and ask, “Do we need a shot of this, or is it superfluous?”
      Another great moment that I admired is a two shot scene in the apartment between Mulligan and Gosling. The director keeps Mulligan in the light, but we only view Gosling’s reflection in a mirror, in which a shadow covers his face. The artful composition of this shot cleverly expresses the dark side of his human nature.
       My favorite detail in Drive was Ryan Gosling’s costume. In almost every scene he’s dressed in tight jeans that accentuate his long frame, and his signature stuntman driving jacket that has a scorpion etched on his backside. As the story unfolds and our dark hero’s violent tendencies come to the centerfold, his hip, retro-jacket becomes covered in more blood. However, he never takes it off; even when he meets with gangster Albert Brooks in a public restaurant. The driving jacket symbolizes what he’s best at. Sometimes, subtle and idiosyncratic details in the costume can say more about a character than their behaviors. It brings a sort of mythological dimension to the protagonist.
      I love how director Nicolas Winding Refn frames every shot in the film. It’s done with clear precision and artistry. The use of slow-motion effects, combined with the laidback tempo of the electronic soundtrack pays homage to great stylistic directors, such as Sam Peckinpah (The Wild Bunch, Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia) and Sergio Leone (The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly). A tight script, enigmatic protagonist, and a strong visual style transcend the film out of the cycle of clichéd, crime pictures. As violent as Drive is, the plot, character development, and visual energy wins the final race.


**** (out of four stars)

Yale's interview with film critic, Philip Wuntch

        One rainy day I went to a movie with a friend. It’s not like I was performing cartwheels over seeing the Nanny Diaries (2007), but I thought, I might be surprised. He loved it, I hated it. No surprise. I defended my opinion to the best of my expertise. Afterward, he looked at me, and said, “If you didn’t like the movie, then why did you see it?”
       He didn’t understand. It’s not about negativity; it’s a personal stand on a film. Hated or loved it, I still gained some insight. My friend took my comments too personal. I was merely critiquing the film. Yes, film critiquing is an art form. From short stories to scripts, I think being a film critic is one of the most rewarding writing experiences. If you’re a sincere film buff like me, then I think it’s important to analyze specific techniques and storytelling concepts in a film; the more you understand, the more knowledge you gain from a filmmaker’s perspective. For me, reviewing films has been intellectually stimulating. I know I don’t get paid, but I have a distinct voice, and I love to share my opinion.
       Growing up as a child I would always read the film reviews. I have this uncanny ability to remember hundreds of write-ups from various film critics. Every Friday morning, the first thing I would do was retrieve the Dallas Morning News. Every section, except for the Guide, was useless to me. I used to love to see what kind of praise or criticism a film received the day it opened. Philip Wuntch was the official film critic for the Dallas Morning News since the mid-seventies. I can still recall his reviews. In addition, I learned a great deal from Roger Ebert, Andrew Sarris, and the legendary Pauline Kael. These film aficionados enlightened my knowledge and fueled my passion. 

      Today, I don’t read other reviews. I might scan the write-up or notice what kind of grade the film received, but I keep my mind fresh. I think it’s better to write without any other influences swarming in my head.       Now, as you know, Medium Rare Cinema has never done an interview before. I had the great opportunity of interviewing film critic and author, Philip Wuntch. The best way to understand the world of journalism is to interview someone who's been in that industry for quite sometime. Now, Wuntch is retired, but that doesn’t mean he stops writing about films. Based on his enthusiasm, I admire his career and his writing style. He’s interviewed stars, directors, writers, and now, I get to interview him. This is the first of many interviews for Medium Rare Cinema (mediumrarecinema.blogspot.com), so a word for the readers: there’s just as much valid and exciting film-talk here, as what you would read in a major publication. Enjoy!

Yale: How did you get your start with the Dallas Morning News? 
Philip: I had worked for the Dallas Times-Herald's amusements department (It was called "amusements" back then) for free while attending SMU. I hoped they would hire me when I graduated in 1967, and they did. I was nightclub and live entertainment critic and did some movie reviewing. In 1969, the Dallas Morning News asked me to join their staff. I reviewed nightclubs, live entertainment and some movies until 1974, when I became full-time film critic. I was the first person in the Dallas media actually to have the title of film critic. I remained film critic of the Dallas Morning News until my retirement in 2006. 
Yale: Was newspaper journalism your primary career goal?
Philip: Always.
Yale: When did you become a film enthusiast? What was the one movie that did it for you?
Philip: I saw my first movie when I was three and one-half years old, and that experience completely overwhelmed me. My parents took me to see "Portrait of Jennie" at the Paramount Theater in Austin in early 1949. I didn't understand everything, but I knew it was a romance between an artist (Joseph Cotten) and a ghost (Jennifer Jones). That intrigued me. And the film's climax was a hurricane, which both fascinated and frightened me. I had never experienced anything like it. I was sold on movies from that day on. I learned to read by reading the movie ads in the paper. 
Yale: What was your most passionate review during your professional career; the one film that inspired you to write and write and write?
Philip: If I wrote about a movie again and again and again, some lame-brained editor probably would have roared, "You've been writing too much about that movie! Write about something else!"
Yale: What film festivals have you attended? Which one was your best experience? 
Philip: I mostly stayed at home and covered the USA Film Festival and parts of the videofest. The early days of the USA Film Festival at the Bob Hope Theater at SMU were great. You could sit at a table in the lobby and have a conversation with Frank Capra and Jean Arthur. Since my retirement in 2006, I've attended the Dallas International Film Festival, which is fabulous, and the Asian Film Festival, which I enjoy very much.
Yale: Tell me about some of your most fascinating interviews…writers, directors, actors, producers, etc.
Philip: I've had good luck with interviews. I got two notoriously bad interview subjects -- Warren Beatty and Richard Gere -- to open up, and I got wonderful interviews from Gregory Peck, Sydney Pollack, Arthur Penn, Steven Spielberg, Clint Eastwood, Dustin Hoffman and Robert Towne. Penn said I got the prize for asking him questions he'd never been asked before. I also got very frank interviews from Jack Nicholson and Natalie Wood. The interviewees I disliked most were Kevin Costner and Faye Dunaway, both incredibly pompous.
Yale: What other newspapers have you written for?
Philip: My high school and college papers, the Highland Park Bagpipe and SMU Campus. Then the Times-Herald and the DMN.
Yale: How many staff writers worked on the movie section of the DMN?
Philip: At one time, we had three writers covering film. I was the official film critic. Russell Smith and later Chris Vognar did the films that I did not have time or did not want to do. Jane Sumner did some reviews and covered the Texas movie production scene.
Yale: Where did you go to school? Can you elaborate on your experience?
Philip: I was told I could no longer write movie reviews for the Highland Park High School newspaper because a group of parents complained that my reviews promoted dirty movies. I was reinstated as movie reviewer after a week. On both the high school paper and the SMU paper, I had a captive audience I really enjoyed writing for.
Yale: Who are some of your icons in the movie industry and why?
Philip: Love Alfred Hitchcock. He had great humor, a great visual style and, while he might have sneered at psychological probing of his work, he understood human nature. William Wyler also understood human nature and cared a great deal about characterization. Also love Howard Hawks. Among contemporary directors, I'm a big fan of Alexander Payne, Paul Thomas Anderson, Martin Scorsese, Quentin Tarantino, Joel and Ethan Coen and, for the most part, Steven Spielberg.
Yale: What are your three favorite films of all time?
Philip: It's impossible to narrow it down to three. But I was stunned and amazed by the power of "Bonnie and Clyde" and "Midnight Cowboy." My favorite comedy is Preston Sturges' 1941 "The Lady Eve" with Barbara Stanwyck and Henry Fonda. It's hilarious and romantic. Please don't confuse it with "All About Eve," which most people love but I think is vastly overrated.
Yale: Who is your favorite film director?
Philip: Hitchcock.
Yale: In your opinion, what’s the best decade for cinema?
Philip: The 1960s. And by that I mean the late 1960s through the mid-1970s. Such films as "Bonnie and Clyde," "Midnight Cowboy" and "The Graduate" changed American filmmaking forever. They brilliantly reflected the society of that era although "Bonnie and Clyde" took place 30 years earlier.
Yale: What kinds of dilemmas or pitfalls have you encountered in your profession?
Philip: In the field of journalism, it's tempting for reporters to consider themselves as important as the people they write about. Business writers may dream of being captains of industry, sportswriters may dream of being coaches or star athletes, movie critics may dream of being directors or actors. I always tried to avoid that, and I tried never to talk down to the reader.
Yale: were any of your deadlines stressful?
Philip: Deadlines vary for any journalist. Sometimes there were three weeks between a screening and a deadline. Other times, I had less than one hour to write a review. Covering the Oscars on deadline was always stressful -- but it was a delightful, invigorating kind of stress.
Yale: How do you book interviews? Who sets those up?
Philip: Interviews are almost always set up by studio representatives. However, I have requested certain interviews, and they've usually been receptive.
Yale: If I remember correctly, 1999 was the last year that the Dallas Morning News applied the star system. Since then, it’s been F-A. Which do you prefer, the star system or letter system?
Philip: I definitely prefer the star system. Giving a letter grade to a film seems pompous and pedantic. Of course, some critics ARE pompous and pedantic.
Yale: Growing up as a child, I remember reading several four star reviews, which have stuck in my head for years. These include “Ed Wood” (1994), “Pulp Fiction” (1994), “Lone Star” (1996), “Grace of my Heart” (1996), and I’m not a 100% sure, but I believe “The Brady Bunch Movie” (1995). Did you write any of those?
Philip: I reviewed "Lone Star" and "Ed Wood." I'd still give "Lone Star" four stars but might lower "Ed Wood" to three and a half. Had I reviewed "Pulp Fiction," I would've given it four stars, with three to "Grace of My Heart." I don't remember "The Brady Bunch" review. I believe it opened when I was on leave. I remember it as a modestly enjoyable movie.
Yale: Now, what I definitely recall reading was a four star review of “The Evening Star” (1996), the “Terms of Endearment” sequel. I remember the film was critically panned across the nation, and personally, I thought it was pure sap, but those four stars are embedded in my brain. Any comment?
Philip: I intensely disliked "Evening Star." I thought it was choppy and clumsy, and I never felt "Terms of Endearment" needed a sequel. I wanted to remember those characters as they were. However, Jane Sumner reviewed it and obviously didn't share my feelings, which was fine with me.
Yale: I haven’t had a chance to read your book, “Marty Jurow Seein’ Stars: A Show Biz Odyssey.” Can you talk about your research and writing process?
Philip: I had been friends with Martin Jurow for many years. He was a wonderful person, and I loved him dearly. We would meet every Sunday afternoon and Marty would relate his many memorable experiences. Our research unfortunately was stalled by health problems. I had a heart attack, and Marty had Parkinson's Disease. But we kept plowing on.
Yale: How well-received was your book? How much money did it make? How much did you make?
Philip: Hell, no, Yale. I'm not gonna tell you how much money either I or the book made. But it did great in Dallas, New York and Los Angeles.
Yale: What were some of the important friendships and connections you’ve made throughout your professional career?
Philip: I never sought to make friendships or connections. Didn't want anything to interfere with my objectivity. But Cameron Crowe enjoyed my interview with him so much, he asked me to play a reporter in "Elizabethtown." I had to turn him down.
Yale: What are your thoughts on the MPAA (Motion Picture Association of America) throughout the decades?
Philip: There's always room for improvement, but it's basically OK with me. I definitely like it better than the old City of Dallas Motion Picture Classification Board, which was an embarrassment to the city. A group of uninformed people would see every movie and rate it suitable or unsuitable for young people and give reasons like sex, violence, perversion or language. They became a national laughing stock when they branded "Paper Moon" not suitable because Tatum O'Neal said, "Daddy, I have to go to the shithouse." Even Johnny Carson made jokes about Dallas and the Classification Board. Former mayor Annette Strauss was one of its driving forces, and it received a lot of prominence prior to its demise, sometime in the late '80s, I think.
Yale: In the world of and ebooks, what are your thoughts on the future of newspaper journalism?
Philip: It's possible that the traditional daily newspaper will remain daily only online and become a weekly publication in print.
Yale: Now that your officially retired, how do you spend your days?
Philip: Just enjoying life with my wife Mimi. She has a dog sitting business that keeps both of us busy. Fortunately we love dogs. Also we love going to movies WE want to see at the times WE want to see them.

The odds are in favor of 50/50

     50/50 is an empathetic comedy about a young, sensible man, Adam (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), who gets cancer and faces the painstaking reality that he might die before his life gets rolling. He is 27, clean-cut, healthy, and a cautious character that is thrown a devastating curveball. As his shock sets in, his confidence and self-esteem is lowered, and his frustration builds to pure angst. Actor Joseph Gordon-Levitt gives a truly tender and endearing performance.
     Adam’s high school buddy, Kyle (Seth Rogan), doesn’t quite know how to react, except to cheer him up as best as possible. I found Rogan’s loud-mouth, geeky macho-like mannerisms to live up to his warm-hearted role in Knocked Up (2007). On occasion, his jocular dialogue overwhelms his presence, but still, he’s in tune with his character. Levitt and Rogan work well together. Their clashing personalities complement the comedic duo.
     I wasn’t quite sure what to expect of 50/50. Sometimes, I think cancer-themed films rely too much on melodrama; the essential purpose is to yank tears from the audience. Instead, 50/50 contains richly defined characters. In the opening scene, we see Adam jogging outside, and when the crosswalk reads “don’t walk,” he complies. The director wants to quickly and efficiently introduce an important dimension of the central character, and that is, he’s very careful.
     After Adam receives his traumatic diagnosis, he agrees to see a 24 year-old therapist, Katherine (Anna Kedrick), and suddenly, he’s uncomfortable. Her office is messy and cluttered, and doesn't agree with Adam's clean sensibilities. Relationships in scripts work well when two characters, who have little common, find a way to relate. While Adam is waiting at the hospital, he befriends three older guys who are also going through chemotherapy. These men might be strange to him, but due to their similar health issues, he’s more relaxed and comfortable than when he’s around his girlfriend, (Bryce Dallas Howard), therapist, or even his caring, yet neurotic mother (Angelica Huston).
     When I realized that Seth Rogan was one of the star attractions, I wasn’t sure which direction the film would go. Are we going to be constantly bombarded by Rogan’s jokes and sarcasm? Well, sometimes his humor runs rampant, but his performance is very genuine. The comic relief is a reminder that it’s not helpful to wallow.

      Joseph Gordon-Levitt rarely falls short of a great performance. As his career shoots for the stars, his choices of character roles are becoming more diverse and challenging. Adam is a character who has difficulties expressing his present emotions. In an empowering scene, Levitt’s underlying feelings finally boil to the surface, and I was reminded of Jack Nicholson in Five Easy Pieces (1970), when he’s alone in his car, ranting and raving in madness. Everything finally comes out, and Adam’s sudden shift in behavior is plausibly portrayed by Levitt. 50/50 is a sure-fire pleasure. The performances are superb, the script is smartly written, and as funny as it is, still, bring your tissue box.

***1/2 (out of four stars)