Oren Jacoby's
Constantine’s Sword
Opens in select theaters Friday, April 18th, 2008
Reviewed by Alejandra
Serret
Constantine’s
Sword, a thought provoking documentary, delves
into the controversial debate on religion, and
how the institution has been used as a weapon
throughout history. The documentary follows James
Carroll, a writer and former Catholic priest,
on his exploration of the darker side of Christianity.
Carroll, with the help of Oscar nominated documentarian
Oren Jacoby, travel to different parts of the
world in hopes of unearthing and bringing to light
a side of Christianity that is often over looked
and ignored.
The documentary
begins in Colorado Springs at the U.S. Air Force
Academy. A Jewish cadet tells of the constant
discrimination he deals with because of his faith.
The Evangelist Mega Church proselytizes at the
Air Force Academy in an aggressive, forceful manner.
This particular story becomes the basis of Constantine’s
Sword. It serves as the foundation for Carroll’s
argument—that the institution of religion
is used and has been used to breed hatred, separating
rather than unifying.
Carroll talks of
his own past, as the eldest of son of a large
Irish Catholic Family—his father a decorated
Army General. From a young age Carroll had felt
it his duty to serve the church. He became a priest
in 1969 and served for five years. He argues it
was during this time period that he was able to
ask the most challenging questions of the church—beginning
with its violent and turbulent history. It is
what led him to leave the priesthood.
He travels
to Europe and speaks with historians on the beginnings
of Christianity. This unearths the story of Constantine,
a Roman Emperor, who was violent. Carroll’s
journey through Europe takes us through the Crusades,
the Inquisition, and the Holocaust. These religious
wars all targeted a specific group of people based
on their religious differences. Carroll beautifully
links this turbulent history with the way in which
Evangelism is proselytized at the U.S. Air Force
Academy. The documentary ends on a truly scary
note: President Bush’s declaration of the
current war in Iraq as a “crusade on terror…a
war of good vs. evil.” He compares Bush
to Hitler, begging the question: what does that
make us as citizens? Accomplices? Constantine’s
Sword beautifully tackles a truly complex
topic.
For more information about
Constantine's Sword, log onto: constantinessword.com
Leelee Sobieski and Al
Pacino in John Avnet's 88 Minutes
Jon Avnet's
88 Minutes
Opens Friday, April 18th, 2008
Reviewed by Alejandra
Serret
After sitting through
88 Minutes, it’s hard to believe that
Al Pacino, the film’s star, is in fact the
same man who played Michael Corleone (The
Godfather Trilogy), Tony Montana (Scarface),
and Lt. Colonel Frank Slade (Scent of a Woman),
a role that won him the Oscar in 1992. These characters
were interesting, complex, multi-layered, flawed—human.
And yet, over recent years, the characters he
has played have varied little: Detective Will
Dormer (Insomnia), Walter Burke (The
Recruit), Walter Abrams (Two for the
Money), and his most recent, Dr. Jack Gramm
(88 Minutes). They are so similar; they
begin to blend, leaving little to the viewer’s
imagination and to the actor’s creativity.
We’ve all seen Pacino play the lonely, intense,
slightly insane, middle-aged man. Unfortunately,
his role in 88 Minutes as Dr. Jack Gramm
does little to dissuade the sinking feeling that
Pacino’s comfortable, and maybe even a bit
content, to play the same character again and
again.
88 Minutes,
Directed by Jon Avnet (Up Close and Personal
and Fried Green Tomatoes) and written
by Gary Scott Thompson (The Fast and the Furious)
is a psychological thriller. Dr. Jack Gramm, a
forensic psychiatrist and respected professor,
makes a living tracking and profiling serial killers.
The film begins in 1997, with the grisly death
of a young woman, the work of the notorious Seattle
Slayer. Dr. Gramm’s testimony convinces
the jury to find Jon Forster, played by Neal McDonough,
guilty of the crime. Jump ahead to present day
and it’s the night before Forster’s
execution. Gramm receives a cryptic phone call
stating that he has 88 minutes left to live. A
series of incidents follow: his graduate student
is found dead in her apartment, the woman he went
home with the night before is also murdered (both
women are, of course, killed in the same “Seattle
Slayer” way), a bomb threat, and the persistent
phone calls that remind him of how much time he
has left. It is Gramm against the clock. He suspects
everyone around him: his students (there are many—played
by Leelee Sobieski, Benjamin McKenzie, Amy Brenneman),
his friends/colleagues, his student’s boyfriend,
the list goes on. As the film progresses and the
plot unravels, we learn of Gramm’s difficult
past and the significance of 88 minutes.
Suspense
and an intricate, intelligent plot are necessary
elements of a successful thriller. 88 Minutes’
weak plot does little to inspire suspense
or even surprise. The greatest moments in a thriller
are in collecting the clues and piecing them together.
There was nothing of this in 88 Minutes.
No subtle hints alluding to the truth, just a
mess of over-acting and obnoxious “scary
movie” stereotypes. It also falls into the
trap of allowing the audience to believe that
the killer could be anyone. A great thriller is
not calculated by the number of possibilities
it creates behind a mystery, but by how well construed
a possibility is. At one point, every character
(even Gramm himself) is a suspect, but there is
no real motivation behind each of them. Without
motive, the audience isn’t challenged. Gratuitous
nudity, silly dialogue, and exaggerated acting
(although not on Pacino’s part) bloat this
film. At the end, I was neither surprised, nor
interested. 88 Minutes misses the mark.
Steven Spielberg’s
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal
Skull
Opens Thursday, May 22, 2008
Reviewed
by Frank J. Avella
After almost two
decades, Indiana Jones is back and, I am stunned
to report, he’s in better shape than ever.
As a matter of fact, Indiana Jones and the
Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (a bloody mouthful)
is the best Indy yet! And I do not say
that lightly.
I recently revisited
the trilogy on DVD. The major revelation for me
was how my least favorite, Temple of Doom,
has now become my favorite; it’s certainly
the strangest, but also the most original. Raiders
of the Lost Ark, the most revered, seemed
like a prologue (a damned good one).
After so many years
and so many nixed scripts, David Koepp (with story
credit going to series conceivers: George Lucas
and Jeff Nathanson) manages a smart, clever and
exciting screenplay filled with the expected as
well as a good dose of the unexpected. In particular,
the explanation of the origins of the crystal
skulls is pretty creative and thought-provoking
stuff.
It’s 1957,
twenty years after Last Crusade, and
the Cold War is at freezing temperature, the atomic
age has arrived and UFO’s are the latest
craze. Elvis Presley’s “Hound Dog”
plays over the opening credits to perfectly ground
us in a particular place and time.
Professor Indiana
Jones (Harrison Ford, not looking his age at all)
has found himself the subject of governmental
suspicion and is forced to take a leave from his
University post. Here the filmmakers smartly capture
the paranoia of the time where everyone’s
patriotism can be called into doubt regardless
of your past heroism and proven loyalty (hmmm…resonates
pretty sharply today…)
Enter, Mutt (Shia
LaBeouf), a young, hair-obsessed rebel riding
a motorcycle who could be a hybrid (mutt, get
it!) of James Dean, Montgomery Clift, Marlon Brando
and Sal Mineo. Mutt desperately needs Indy’s
help.
Our generation-gapped
duo soon find themselves being chased by Soviet
spies, led by the cunning, calculating and captivating
Irina Spalko (Cate Blanchett) who is described
as “Stalin’s fair-haired girl,”
despite her brunette cereal-bowl do. Irina and
her gang of Reds are on a mission to realize the
new annihilation frontier: psychic warfare.
Before you can
say: Roswell, Indy is on the run and lands right
in the midst of an atomic testing site. The insane
way he survives a nuclear blast is one of the
film’s best sequences and the screen tableau
of Ford with mushroom cloud is unforgettable.
Soon, it’s
off to Peru where Boy-hybrid and our snake-fearing
hero become enmeshed in a search for yet another
rare and life-changing archaeological find: the
Crystal Skull of Akator, a legendary relic that
has supernatural powers.
Monkeys, giant
ants, Karen Allen and, yes, a large snake get
in their way and many terrific CGI effects later,
the gang find the “Kingdom”…the
city of Gold, which houses the 13 Crystal Skulls
leading to quite the climax.
Steven Spielberg
has assembled a kick-ass ensemble peppered with
a bevy of tremendously talented Brits (redundant?)
including: John Hurt; Ray Winstone and Jim Broadbent.
Each bring their own unique gifts to their roles.
Chameleon Cate
Blanchett, speaking with a strong ‘where-are-moose-and-squirrel
Russian accent, is deliciously evil as Irina Spalko,
Soviet baddie. Irina is cunning and determined
and Blanchett plays her to the hilt, having a
villainous field day. And as with all Blanchett
interpretations, there is more than just villainy
afoot. Her final moments are particularly extraordinary.
It’s a delight
to see spunky Karen Allen back as Indy’s
great love, Marion Ravenwood. Allen looks fantastic
and brings out the sparring-best in Ford. She
was sadly missing from Doom and Last
Crusade. Kudos to the person who had the
good sense to bring her back.
And who knew that
Shia LaBeouf was the stuff of matinee idols? I
can totally see a Young Indy series taking off
based on the charm and dash he displays as Mutt.
Whether he’s all leathered-out a la’
Brando in The Wild One or sword fighting
with Blanchett while on separate Jeeps (an astounding
scene), LaBeouf proves he’s got what it
takes to give the Leos in the business a run for
their millions.
Now, about Mr.
Ford. I must admit: I’m not a fan. Truth
to be told, except for Han Solo and a brilliant
performance in Peter Weir’s highly underrated,
little seen gem, The Mosquito Coast,
I’ve never been impressed with his talents.
He has played it too safe with his choices as
well as his portrayals. So it is with shock and
bewilderment that I say his performance in Crystal
Skull is not just one of his best, it’s
refreshingly self-mocking and, at times, even
poignant. The cockiness is still there but has
melded into a more pensive and reflective arrogance.
If action-adventure performances received Oscar
nominations, Ford would be a shoo-in. Come to
think of it, The Fugitive, an overrated,
overblown Ford starrer, did receive a Best Picture
nomination back in 1993, but Ford’s performance
(rightly) did not. Perhaps it’s time to
justly reward Ford with recognition for going
above and beyond what anyone expected and proving
he has what it takes.
Tech credits are
sensational from the great Janusz Kaminski’s
breathtaking camerawork to Mary Zophres’
period-perfect costumes. The rousing John Williams’
score is as defining as it is contagious. And
the visuals are mind-blowing. I could have lived
without some of the cute creatures created only
for merchandising purposes…so unnecessary
from Lucas and Spielberg who can collectively
buy the world with their monies!
Spielberg is a
fascinating study. I happen to think that Munich
is his masterpiece. I find his later work more
interesting than his earlier films. Genuine love
for the medium, a commanding technique, along
with a solid handle on characterization permeates
most of the second half of his filmography. So
even in an action-adventury, thrill-ride like
Indiana Jones, we find more attention given
to what the characters have to say to one another
via dialogue or simple facial expressions. Spielberg
is no longer afraid to slow things down a bit
to tell a better, more nuanced story.
A small handful
of Skull naysayers have been speculating
that Spielberg might have been bored directing
this follow-up; insinuating passion is not evident
in the end result. I would argue the contrary
for he is not only reverential to the history
of his characters but highly aware of the need
to take the saga to a more urgent and timely level.
He succeeds masterfully.
Jon Favreau's
Iron Man
Opens May 2, 2008
Heavy Boots
of Lead
Starring:
Robert Downey Jr.; Gwyneth Paltrow; Terrence Howard;
and Jeff Bridges.
Reviewed by Adam Ritter
It took forty-five years and a cruel succession
of false starts, but Iron Man has made
the inevitable crossover from comic books (and
later cartoons) to the silver screen.
After heavyweights like Cage and Cruise were considered
in the 90's to play the man-who-would-be-Iron,
it was at long last Robert Downey Jr. who nabbed
the role and for that we are grateful.
Mr. Downey is cast perfectly as billionaire genius
inventor Tony Stark, the weapons inventor extraordinaire
who has continued the legacy of his deceased father,
manufacturing magnate Howard Stark.
Tony cleanly dismisses
suggestion of the collateral death toll of his
nefarious masterpieces (cluster bombs with repulsor
technology as a 'for instance') by espousing the
fallacious-but-familiar neocon philosophy that
imagines a safer world thanks to the mutually-assured-destruction
he provides.
Of course, not one to be easily categorized, Stark
counterbalances his conservative side with a compulsive
rock star lifestyle that would be the envy of
any Hollywood jetsetter.
His only genuine
relationships are with faithful assistant Pepper
Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow), buzz-killing Colonel
James "Rhody" Rhodes (Terrence Howard
in a role that might grow substantially in potential
sequels) and Papa Stark's business partner Obadiah
Stane (Jeff Bridges) who has evolved into a mentor
for Tony.
The origin of Iron
Man has been updated from Vietnam to Afghanistan
but the movie is mostly true to the core elements
of the comic.
As is often the case with lecherous cinematic
playboys, circumstances beyond his control cause
Tony to reassess his ideas about the value of
life and the legacy he intends to leave behind.
Unfortunately, although there are surprises in
the movie, it will be difficult to experience
them thanks to a monolithic advance media blitz
that seems to relish in revealing key elements
of the movie to anyone with a cable-connection
or newspaper subscription.
Therefore, readers of most reviews and of course
fans of the pulp Iron Man will recognize
Tony's arch nemesis "Iron Monger" as
he blooms to life throughout the course of the
film. Their confrontation has a familiar Transformers
feel, however the overall experience is not
diminished in spite of this.
This movie does not "quite" reach the
upper echelon of comic book crossovers, which
is certain to include the original Superman,
Batman Begins and possibly Spiderman
2. However, Iron Man unquestionably
flies far higher than most comic incarnations
of past years (Hulk, Fantastic Four,
X-Men, etc...).
We have Robert Downey Jr. to thank for this, for
it is his performance (ironically "without"
the two hundred lbs. of armor), which carries
the most weight in the film.
And as for Tony's alter ego, sleek and sound in
his CGI crucible, it's difficult to imagine a
man encased in iron (though it's actually a gold-titanium
alloy, as Tony points out) looking cooler than
director Jon Favreau's vision of him, breathed
into a brilliant existence here.
There is one substantial
diversion from the comic-origin storyline that
could be an allusion to more recent developments
in Iron Man's "Civil War" life.
You can be the judge of this.
Be sure to stick around until the very end of
the credits for a minute of bonus material that
alludes to an exciting future for Iron Man.
Giuseppe
Tornatore’s
La Sconosciuta (The Unknown Woman)
Opens Friday, May 30, 2008
Angelika Film Center
18 W. Houston Street, New York City
Reviewed by Frank J. Avella
at the 2007 Open Roads: New Italian Cinema at
Lincoln Center
Much celebrated
Italian director Giuseppe Tornatore (Cinema
Paradiso) has not made a film since Malena
in 2000. In his long awaited return to filmmaking,
Tornatore has crafted an ultra-violent, gruesome
yet extraordinary film about true evil and one
woman’s struggle for redemption.
I admire Tornatore
for making an honest and no-holes-barred thriller
that will certainly turn a lot of people off...ah,
but for those who stay with it...the rewards are
many!
Nothing is quite
what it initially seems ot be in La Sconosciuta
(The Unknown Woman)--specifically
Irena (Kseniya Rappoport), the anti-heroine in
Tornatore’s riveting saga, is not who and
what we first assume she is. The Ukranian immigrant
is first seen conning her way into a housekeeping
job, then befriending a fellow maid and then violently
tripping her down a large flight of stairs!
As the film unfolds
with small flashes of flashbacks, Irena’s
tragic story becomes all too clear and we begin
to see how she fell victim to a ruthless monster
known as Muffa, played with villainous zest by
the incomparable Michele Placido. I will not give
any more of the plot away because part of the
joy of watching this film unfold is not knowing
what is going to happen next! Tornatore tells
his story in just the right way so we are constantly
feeling anger, disgust and empathy for Irena--sometimes
simultaneously.
Rappoport dives
into the role face first and she is remarkable.
The entire cast does great work here including:
Claudia Gerini; Pierfrancesco Favino; Margherita
Buy; Alessandro Haber; and Piera Degli Esposti.
Production values
are excellent across the boards with the great
Ennio Morricone providing an exciting score.
La
Sconosciuta is unrelenting in it’s
depiction of violence but there is a beauty in
the brutality onscreen (reminiscent of Martin
Scorsese’s Taxi Driver) and, in
the end, the film is mesmerizing and transcendent.
Bharat Nalluri’s
Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day
Opens Friday, March 7, 2008
Starring: Amy
Adams as Delysia Lafosse; Shirley Henderson as
Edythe Dubarry; Ciarán Hinds as Joe; Frances
McDormand as Miss Pettigrew; Lee Pace as Michael;
Tom Payne as Phil Goldman; Mark Strong as Nick.
Reviewed by Wendy
R. Williams
Miss Pettigrew
Lives for a Day is a frothy confection of
a film; farcical and fun, it is the perfect chick
flick. The film is advertised as a fairy tale
for grown ups and it certaunly fulfills its advertised
promise.
Here is a quote
from the press release: “In 1939 London,
Miss Guinevere Pettigrew (Frances McDormand) is
a middle-aged governess who finds herself once
again unfairly dismissed from her job. Without
so much as severance pay, Miss Pettigrew realizes
that she must – for the first time in two
decades – seize the day. This she does,
by intercepting an employment assignment outside
of her comfort level – as “social
secretary.” Arriving at a penthouse apartment
for the interview, Miss Pettigrew is catapulted
into the glamorous world and dizzying social whirl
of an American actress and singer, Delysia Lafosse
(Amy Adams).”
Delysia has a
complicated love life, three love lifes to be
precise. When Miss Pettigrew arrives at Delysia’s
stunning penthouse apartment, one of the love
lifes is still asleep upstairs, Phil Goldman (Tom
Payne). Phil is the son of a theatrical producer
and has the power (maybe) to cast Delysia in his
father’s new musical. But career benefits
aside, he must get out of bed because Delysia
is late for a lingerie show. And as a further
complication, Delysia's boss at the nightclub
where she sings, Nick (Mark Strong), is about
to arrive and Nick would also like to spend some
time in the presently occupied upstairs bed.
So Delysia is
desperately in need of the services of a sensible
English governess. And Miss Pettigrew, in all
her frumpy glory, jumps right in. She removes
lingerie from the chandelier, stuffs clothing
under the bear skin rug and dispenses sensible
advice. And advice is needed for it seems that
Delysia has yet another love interest, Nick (Lee
Pace), the piano player at the nightclubs where
Delysia works. Delysia truly loves Nick, but of
all three men, Nick can do the least for her career.
Miss Pettigrew quickly dispenses with all three
men and Delysia and Miss Pettirgrew leave for
the lingerie show.
The lingerie show is a frothy delight, a pink
bonbon for the eyes. At the lingerie show, Miss
Pettigrew is introduced to Delysia’s friend,
Edythe (Shirley Henderson), a brittle and sophisticated
shop owner. Miss Pettigrew also meets Edythe cuckolded
fiancée, Joe (Ciarán Hinds), an
honest wholesome sort of man who was drawn into
the smart set when he left the sock business to
become a lingerie designer. Miss Pettigrew is
attracted to Joe because she can see beneath his
worldly exterior to view the decent man Joe really
is.
So the die is
cast, the players are on the stage. Just who will
Delysia choose? Will Edythe be able to draw Joe
back into her web? Will Miss Pettigrew ever get
something to eat and will someone please do something
about her hair?
Miss Pettigrew is set in a world that
is about to drastically change. Indeed, we see
the outlines of the first German bombers flying
over the English sky. And in the world, all is
not exactly as it seems for Miss Pettigrew and
Delysia have one secret in common – what
they do in any one day can truly throw them into
the poor house the next day.
The cast in Miss
Pettigrew all give wonderful performances:
Amy Adams is utterly "Enchanting" as
Delysia; Frances McDormand embodies goodness under
extreme stress; Shirley Henderson delights as
Edythe Dubarry, the evil witch of this fairy tale;
Ciarán Hinds as Joe delivers the same rock-solid
performance that has made him Ciarán Hinds.
And the male love interests are all delightful
in their own ways: Tom Payne plays an adorably
vain Phil; Mark Strong is sexually exciting as
the venal and menacing Nick; and Lee Pace, with
his soulful eyes, makes the audience totally forget
what our mothers told us about not dating musicians.
Henry Bean's
Noise
Opens Friday, May 9, 2008
Starring: Tim Robbins;
Bridget Moynahan; William Hurt;
Margarita Levieva; Gabrielle Brennan; María
Ballesteros; and William Baldwin.
Reviewed by Allison
Ford
Noise
bills itself as "a comedy of ideas."
The central conceit of the film, a man so aggravated
with noise in Manhattan that he feels compelled
to seek justice by vandalizing car alarms, is
indeed a comedic idea, but without a sturdy plot
to stand on, it darts out in confusing tangents,
ultimately resulting in a peculiar, quirky film
that is funny at times, but muddled.
Tim Robbins stars
as David Owen, a mild-mannered fellow living with
his beautiful wife and child on the Upper West
Side of Manhattan. He is driven to distraction
by the constant assault from car alarms, security
alarms, garbage trucks, and all manner of city
nuisances. The only relief he can find from the
barrage is to vandalize cars. He styles himself
as "The Rectifier," intent on retribution
on behalf of peace-loving citizens of New York.
This, of course, draws more than a little the
ire from his wife, played by Bridget Moynahan
in a thankless and shrill role.
In the film's
first act, we see Robbins lose everything and
build himself back up again as The Rectifier,
in a sly nod to a superhero movie. Robbins has
become the defender of the public good, the person
who "does something about it," and fights
the good, albeit mundane fight on behalf of everyone.
The frustrating thing about Noise is
that Robbins' character has no identity outside
of his hatred. He is infuriated by noise, but
consumed at the same time. It's all he has. Ultimately,
Robbins' win comes easily, and results in domestic
bliss and self-actualization for all. Hurrah!
It's not that
the film is bad, but it isn't so good, either.
Lots of Hegelian philosophy mixed with the heavy
metaphor of impotence make for a slightly confusing
film, and one that never generates enough of a
plot to develop anything other than mild curiosity,
and never generates anything resembling sympathy
for the characters. Robbins doesn't go on a journey
as much as he has a serious of tenuously-related
misadventures, and he is so preoccupied with car
alarms that the threat of losing his wife and
child only register as small speedbumps along
the way. If the film had stayed with the original
theme of the superhero, the loss of family could
have fueled his emotional fire, much as the loss
of family begat Batman or Spiderman, but the filmmakers
drop this theme, so the family unit becomes only
a minor inconvenience. The metaphor of sexual
impotence tramples through the film. Emotional
frustration accompanies sexual impairment, just
as emotional fulfillment accompanies intense sexual
prowess. The metaphor is more than apt, but it
is never fully explored in the film, save in a
few graphic sequences that only seem to serve
as an excuse to show a little skin.
The film's use
of sound, however, is subtle and intriguing. Sound
effects including street washers, trucks, backhoes,
and alarms are blended together and played over
dialogue at perfectly uncomfortable volumes, until
the viewer accustoms themselves and tunes the
noise out, just like having a conversation on
a real Manhattan street. There is a parallel between
the cognitive and audio dissonance that pervades
the film, and the droning, whining, and unrelenting
background noise begins to slowly drive the viewer
mad.
Noise
is more of a morality tale; a fable intended to
teach a lesson. At times, the lesson is the importance
of action over complacency. Other times, the lesson
is to not allow oneself to be defined by that
which bugs you. The lesson at the heart of the
movie is that noise can harm just as much as physical
assault. Noise has many good ideas, but never
fully explores them enough to make the film cohesive
or engaging, and the characters are not fully-formed
enough to draw the viewer into the drama. By the
end, the film itself feels much like the noise
that everyone's trying to tune out.
Vincent Paronnaud and
Marjane Satrapi's
Persepolis
Opens Tuesday, December 25, 2007
The English Language Version Opened in April of
2008
Reviewed by Julia
Sirmons
A film about angst
and rebellion under the thumb of an oppressive
Islamist regime may, at first glance, seem like
unlikely holiday movie-going fare. Nevertheless,
tales of the resiliency of the human spirit and
the triumph of rebellion and dignity in the most
of trying of political circumstances are very
much in keeping with the greatest story every
told. With that in mind, there's no better way
to keep the seasonal joie de vivre going than
by checking out Persepolis, the visually
arresting, earthy and affecting animated film
adapted form Iranian author Marjane Satrapi's
intensely personal graphic novels.
The film's narrative
spans the course of both books; beginning with
the young Marjane witnessing the fall of the Shah
and the rise of the Islamist revolution, following
her to school in Vienna then back home to Tehran
and finally off to Paris to begin a new life as
an artist.
As graphically
striking as Satrapi's print illustrations are,
the live animation gives the story a new vitality
and depth. Shaded entirely in blacks, whites,
and greys, the illustrations and images manage
to convey a wide variety of emotions: the warm
and homey feel of Marjane's close-knit family,
the eerie and magical depictions of young Marjane's
fantasy world, the traditional Persian aesthetic
of the segments that explain Iranian history,
the neo-noir punk feel of Marjane's sojourn in
Vienna, and the bleak, ominous look of the scenes
of political protest and rebellion. The visual
complexity of Persepolis is truly dazzling;
it looks unlike any film you've ever seen.
As much as the
narrative of Persepolis is inexorably
entwined with the history of modern Iran, it really
is a much more universal story – that of
a smart, tough, rebellious girl struggling to
come into her own when all the weight of circumstance
and society are fighting against her. One of the
great delights of seeing the story on celluloid
is that the character of Marjane (voiced by Gabrielle
Lopes Benites as a girl and by Chiara Mastroianni
as a teenager and adult) really comes to life.
To see the character develop from a fearless kung-fu-loving
young badass to a moody and an outraged teen and
finally a defiant, self-confident woman is heartrendingly
real. The superb cast of powerful, memorable characters
is rounded off by Marjane's formidable and supportive
parents (voiced Simon Akbarian and Mastroianni's
real-life mother, Catherine Deneuve), and her
doting but gutsy grandma (the incomparable Danielle
Darrieux).
In this day and
age, when oppressive regimes stamp out personal
freedoms across the globe, Persepolis
is an empowering call to arms; a strong reminder
that the human desire for liberty can thrive under
the most difficult circumstances. A more inspiring
Christmas message would be difficult to find.
Anders Danielsen Lie,
Viktoria Winge in Joachim Trier’s Reprise
Joachim Trier’s
Reprise
Opens Friday, May 16, 2008
Landmark's Sunshine Cinema
- 143 East Houston Street
Lincoln Plaza Cinemas on Broadway Between 62nd
and 63rd.
Starring: Anders Danielsen
Lie; Espen Klouman-Høiner; and Viktoria
Winge
Joachim Trier is a filmmaker
to watch. His debut film, Reprise, is
quirky, sad, funny and imbued with a jaded and
sophisticated tone. Reprise tells the
story of two friends: Philip (played by Anders
Danielson Lie) and Erik (Espen Klouman-Hoiner)
who aspire to be cult authors. But Trier does
not restrict himself to simply telling their story,
he also tells the story of their imaginary lives,
cutting back in forth from reality to dream with
a deft hand.
The film begins
as Phillip and Erik both post their scripts in
a mail box. We see their dreams of success and
then we see reality. Suddenly it is six months
later and Philip’s book has become an overnight
success and Erik’s has not. But Phillip
has also suffered a mental breakdown and been
hospitalized and his friends are trying to help
him reestablish his life.
We then follow
Philip as he attempts to reconcile with his girlfriend,
Kari (played by the beauteous Viktoria Winge)
and restart his career. We also follow Erik’s
as he reaches some measure of success.
But the story is
not what drives Reprise, it is the world.
Reprise is set in world of the affluent
Norwegian bourgeois, a world where educated young
men live lives filled with the pursuit of the
avant-garde in both literature and music. Like
other young men the world over, they run in posses,
but these are very different posses. The Norwegian
urban posses are not motivated by sports, but
by books, art and the latest and best punk band.
Reprise
was a hit at the Lincoln Center and MoMA sponsored
2008 New Directors New Films. Reprise reminded
me of another New Director’s New Films break-out,
Nimrod Antal’s Kontroll
(2005 selection). The story of Kontroll
is very different from Reprise; the posse
of young men in Kontroll is comprised
of disadvantaged Hungarian subway tickets inspectors.
But both films show worlds inhabited by young
men that are very foreign to the average USA film
audiencer. Foreign, yes, but universally human.
And both films were helmed by filmmakers who very
obviously never went to film school in the United
states and most certainly never read Syd Field’s
Screenplay – The Foundations of Screenwriting.
Reprise is distributed by Miramax Films.
Michael Patrick King's
Sex and the City: The Movie
Opens Friday, May 30, 2008
Starring: Sarah Jessica
Parker; Kim Cattrall; Kristen Davis; Cynthia Nixon;
Chris Noth; and Jennifer Hudson.
Reviewed
by Frank J. Avella
Prediction: most heterosexual
male critics are not going to like this film;
most women, homosexuals and heteroflexible males
are going to love this film. Why? Because, like
the groundbreaking HBO series, the pic is about
women--all about women. All types of women. And
it turns the tables on men.
Key moment: Samantha
(the delicious Kim Cattrall) is ogling her hot
surfer neighbor while eating guacamole. She gets
to treat men the way they’ve been treating
women for centuries.
Jealous, guys?
Of course you are.
Threatened, guys, Just a little bit. Admit it.
But how refreshing
to have a series (and now a film) where women
take center stage and men show up in supporting
roles. Pity some of the women still need to be
defined by men (notably the new character played
by Jennifer Hudson, but I am getting ahead of
myself…)
Is Sex and
the City a chick flick? Hell, yes! But after
a legion of crappy teen-boy oriented action flicks,
thank Christ we get something different! Even
if it’s not really different at all. Not
from the sitcom anyway.
Lovers of the series
will be in girly-heaven, but folks not as familiar
with the show, will still find things to love
about it, if they allow themselves.
For those living
on Uranus: Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker)
is a very successful writer of columns, books,
articles, etc. She is BFF with three very different,
very unique NYC gals: sex-crazed Samantha Jones;
too-sweet Charlotte York (Kristin Davis) and brittle
Miranda Hobbes (Cynthia Nixon). The four women
have spent over a decade looking for love, sex,
success, trendy shopping, romance and magic in
the most enchanting place in the world—New
York City! (Anyone dare to disagree with me on
that one?)
As the film opens,
Carrie is now forty and about to marry the infamous
love of her life, Mr. Big (Chris Noth). BTW, the
character is finally given a name in the film.
Four years have gone by and: Carrie is still lovestruck;
Samantha’s gotten seemingly softer; Miranda’s
a bit harder and Charlotte is, well, more Charlotte!
En route to the
altar, Carrie is jilted by Big—although
the circumstances surrounding the way it exactly
happens is muddled at best. The point is that
series creator and writer/director of the film,
the gifted Michael Patrick King, needed to break
the two up—regardless of how questionable
the plot point might be (my date had never seen
an episode of the original series and enjoyed
the movie but, tellingly, did not buy Big’s
cold feet).
So Carrie is now
depressed. Samantha is going through what most
MEN go through after a long time with one person;
she’s getting itchy and antsy and basically
misses indiscriminate sex. Miranda has tossed
Steve out for cheating on her once in their almost-completely
sex-less relationship. (I found that plot contrivance
annoying since it makes Miranda such an unforgiving
bitch—yet it leads to such a fantastic late
scene involving the Brooklyn Bridge—enough
said!) Finally, Charlotte, after adopting a Chinese
baby, has miraculously become pregnant herself.
The film, like
the show, is more a series of vignettes than a
cohesive narrative, try as the writer’s
may, but it works magnificently because the terrific
one-liners are there as well as the amazing NYC
locales and the oddball but fascinating costumes
(and shoes, let’s not forget the shoes).
But it works, most especially, because of the
quartet of ladies onscreen.
Whether there was
any onset cat-fighting or jealousies, you would
never know it from watching these truly talented
gals “exist” in the best roles they
will probably ever play. Career-defining portrayals.
Davis is hilarious
as ever. Her moment of confrontation with Big
is a keeper but it’s a certain scene in
Mexico that will have you holding your sides in
pain. Nixon’s nuances are all there. I just
wish King hadn’t hardened her so. Cattrall
can make a cat food commercial sexy and she does
her best in the first half where poor Samantha
is stuck in a rut. Thank God the film does her
character justice in the end—even though
we never really see her do what she does best.
(A quick ogling to Gilles Marini who plays Samantha’s
hot object of lust…gangway boys and girls
and look out for a close up of the perfect ass!)
The one male allowed
to do more than have a nice scene (or nice butt
shot) is the terrific Chris Noth, bringing more
to Big than the role as written.
Finally and foremost,
Sarah Jessica Parker has never displayed more
versatility and vulnerability. This gal gets better
with age and does fabulous work here. I commend
her for allowing herself to look her age when
necessary.
At almost two and
a half hours, Sex and the City, never
feels long, although subplot involving Carrie’s
new assistant (Hudson) felt superfluous and detrimental
to positive role models for women. Yet on further
reflection, the character does fit nicely into
the Sex and the City scenario—
a world where women have choices. They may have
what they want: on their terms; at any age. And
what better message to send--even if it still
may be a fairy tale. (Can anyone argue that Hillary
has been treated fairly?)
Yes, the film could
have been more psychologically penetrating, less
predictable, more naughty and less cliché’.
But we’ll save those expectations and sexpectations
for the sequel.
For more information,
log onto: http://www.sexandthecitymovie.com/
Martin Scorsese’s
Shine a Light
Opens Friday, April 4, 2008
Reviewed by Frank J. Avella
Are the Rolling
Stones the greatest Rock ‘n Roll band in
the world? It depends on your definition of great
and the criteria you use for deciding such ridiculous,
but fun, things. If sheer force, courage, stamina,
potency, longevity and true musical talent top
your list of evaluation standards, then perhaps
they are. If you agree that they happen to be
the only group to have had such a massive influence
on music and culture decade after decade after
decade after decade…after decade, then they
certainly are.
Martin Scorsese’s
mesmerizing concert film, Shine a Light,
does exactly that: capturing the Stones up close,
intimately and pretty personal. Scorsese does
the job by simply filming them doing what they
do best, what they’ve always done best:
perform. He also, intermittently, sprinkles old
newsreel footage into the movie to great effect.
Scorsese is no
stranger to concert films, having shot the extraordinary
final performance by The Band, The Last Waltz
in 1978, and, just recently, helming the documentary,
No Direction Home: Bob Dylan.
Shine a Light
began as an idea that Mick Jagger had knowing
they were about to play their biggest concert
yet in Rio de Janiero, as part of their Bigger
Bang tour. He and Richards decided they wanted
Scorsese to direct (Mick: “It’s good
to start at the top.” Richards: “I
have studied every one of his films.”) Scorsese
loved the idea, but decided a more intimate venue
would best serve his vision. After a little coaxing,
he convinced Mick that the Beacon Theatre in New
York City was the perfect place.
Scorsese gathered
some of the best cinematographers working today.
Under the supervision of Academy Award winning
genius Robert Richardson (JFK), the group
included a slew of other Oscar winners: John Toll
(Braveheart); Robert Elswit (There
Will Be Blood); Andrew Lesnie (Lord of
the Rings Trilogy) as well as Albert Maysles,
who shot the now infamous Gimme Shelter
in 1969.
The endeavor has
resulted in a hypnotic and captivating film that
stands as a terrific concert as well as a stunning
motion picture. Scorsese captures the group’s
vitality and energy (Jagger is still more dynamic
than most 18 year olds!), yet we see glimpses
of the aging process taking it’s toll (Keith
Richards ravaged face is forever sexy, but also
scary). What we also experience is a band devoted
to their passion. The songs and the performances
rule the day.
The set includes
most of their best work. (I did miss “You
Can’t Always Get What You Want” and
“Out of Time” but you can’t
have everything). Mick’s attitudinal strut
is on display with a vengeance as is his powerful
bluesy vocals on the best of the best, specifically:
“Shattered;” “Far Away Eyes;”
“Tumbling Dice,” “Brown Sugar,”
“Satisfaction” and, the classic rocker,
“Sympathy for the Devil.”
One of the first
songs Jagger and Richards wrote together is the
haunting “As Tears Go By” and they
perform it with a poignancy and intensity that
sent chills down my spine. A dynamic and underrated
cut, ‘She Was Hot’ provided a major
high in an evening filled with highs.
I was a bit disappointed
that political correctness took over on the “Some
Girls” vocal and a certain highly-controversial
lyric went unsung, but such are the censorial
times we’re all living in.
Special guests
include: Jack White; Christina Aguilera and Presidential
rock star Bill Clinton, who introduces the band.
One of the wonders
of Shine a Light is how Scorsese (as
well as the Stones) never tries to tell us that
we are seeing genius at work (and play). The film
does not reek of self-importance. In fact, Scorsese
takes a very self-reflexive tone pre-concert which
results in some moments of genuine hilarity. And
once the concert begins, the director is all but
out of the picture.
Near the beginning
of the film, Scorsese is told by a technician
that Jagger cannot stand in front of a specific
light for more than 18 seconds or he will burn.
Scorsese incredulously asks: “You mean go
up in flames?” The reply is yes, to which
Scorsese seriously states: “We cannot burn
Mick Jagger.” He then has a chuckle about
it. As do we. And, we are soon hyper-grateful
that Jagger does not go up in flames, otherwise
we would not have been transcendently transported
for two hours by a master director and, well,
the greatest Rock ‘n Roll band in the world!
Alex Rivera’s
Sleep Dealer
New
Directors New Films
March 26–April 6
filmlinc.com
Starring:
Leonor Varela; Jacob Vargas; Luis Fernando Peña;
and Giovanna Zacarías.
Reviewed
by Corey Ann Haydu
Alex Rivera’s first
film, Sleep Dealer, is a science fiction
adventure film that is both entertaining and smart,
a rare combination, and a particularly unique
intellectual experience for the sci-fi genre.
The film follows its protagonist, Memo, a young
Mexican man living in a remote village, and his
journey to the big city. In this archetypal storyline,
Memo is a quintessentially flawed hero. He is
obsessed with technology, and dreams of bigger
things than his current life. This becomes his
downfall, however. Memo ends up in a futuristic
factory that outsources Mexican employees and
to the US- through technological advances. These
employees work from a virtual reality type station
in Mexico, to accomplish menial, low wage jobs
in the US, without ever having to cross the border.
It is with this futuristic construction that Rivera
transcends the genre and delves into an exploration
of immigration and technology and their relationships
with society as a whole. The film asks real questions,
and stuns the audience with a future that seems
entirely plausible and completely terrifying.
Not only are low wage jobs outsourced, remote
soldiers also control detonating machines from
afar, blowing up villages from a world away, disconnected
entirely from life and death. In fact, these soldiers
resemble teenaged boys playing video games, instead
of men making real decisions between life and
death.
Sleep Dealer is also a solid love story,
between troubled Memo, and “writer”
Luz. Luz takes advantage of Memo’s compelling
life story, and shares his memories online, profiting
from their relationship. Their relationship is
beautifully written, and wonderfully acted. It
is an honest look at the complexities of love,
and a reminder that the world is not black and
white.
In fact, Sleep Dealer as a whole resides
in a deep truth, even if its context is an imagined,
unreal future. Regardless, Rivera’s film
manages impressive honesty, complexity, and fullness.
His actors are subtle and true, their lives are
rich and regular, and the world they inhabit is
strange… but also somehow strangely familiar.
It is a movie worth seeing whether or not you
are a science fiction fan. Freshman filmmaker
Rivera demands immense respect for accomplishing
what so few can… a film that is watchable
and enjoyable, but also leads you to see the world
in a new way… or at the very least question
where it is we might be going.
Channing Tatum and Ryan
Phillippe in Stop-Loss
Kimberly Peirce’s
Stop-Loss
Opens Friday, March 28, 2008
Starring: Ryan
Phillippe; Abbie Cornish; Channing Tatum; Joseph
Gordon-Levitt; Victor Rasuk; Linda Emond; and
Mamie Gummer.
Reviewed by Frank
J. Avella
“With
all due respect, sir, fuck the president!”
These audacious
yet cathartic words are spoken by battle-scarred
Staff Sgt. Brandon King (Ryan Phillippe) after
he is told by his superior that he’s being
‘stop-lossed’—ordered to return
to Iraq for another tour even though his term
of service is over. This ‘back door draft’
was first used by George Bush, Sr. during the
Gulf War and has been widely used during the Iraq
conflict.
Through extensive
research and interviews with returning soldiers,
director Kimberly Peirce (along with co-writer
Mark Richard) have fashioned a powerful and deeply
affecting film that examines the effect of war
on a trio of soldiers, during combat, and later,
at home.
Peirce has not
made a film since her 1999 stunner debut,
Boys Don’t Cry, which justly won Hilary
Swank her first Best Actress Oscar. Stop-Loss
more than proves she’s a picturemaking force
to be reckoned with. Passionate and ballsy, Peirce
has the filmic talents to back up her polemics.
And while Stop-Loss brings to mind some
of the best Vietnam-themed war films including:
Oliver Stone’s Platoon and Born
on the Fourth of July; Hal Ashby’s
Coming Home; Francis Coppola’s
Apocalypse Now and Michael Cimino’s
The Deer Hunter, it is in the vein of
homage, not hybridization.
The opening sequence
is filled with blood, guts, mayhem…enough
carnage to make anyone squeamish (my guest almost
had to leave, he was grateful he stayed) and sets
the bar pretty high for the events to come. Eventually,
the soldiers return home and attempt to re-assimilate
into their old lives, which is difficult for some
and near-impossible for others.
Phillippe’s
Brandon is the hub that holds his buddy-spokes
together. They include: his best friend Steve
(Channing Tatum), the tortured Tommy (Joseph Gordon-Levitt)
and Steve’s fiancée, Michelle (Abbie
Cornish).
The film is uncompromising
in it’s portrait of these Texans, how their
patriotism led to their enlisting, but how the
atrocities they witnessed and took part in overseas
have forever scarred them.
More often than
not, Peirce opts to investigate the grey areas—not
just with insights about a soldier’s duty
but when it comes to moral and ethical questions
as well. There’s a terrific scene involving
Brandon chasing a group of thieves that have just
broken into his car. We sense his outrage comes
from how he has just returned from defending his
country FOR these boys and here they are stealing
from him. As audience members we are quick to
want a certain type of justice from this scene,
but immediately find ourselves questioning that
vengeful nature in ourselves. Why it’s there.
And how far we are willing to take it.
Too many critics
have charge Stop-Loss with melodramatic
excessiveness. I don’t see it that way.
The subject matter demands that the stakes be
higher than the norm. And while the film sometimes
goes slightly over the edge—especially when
depicting Tommy’s anguish (his shooting
his wedding gift and his predictable fate)-- much
like with the work of Oliver Stone, we can forgive
the excesses. They’re almost required.
And Peirce and
Richard are savvy enough to avoid most of the
Hollywood-by-numbers script trappings. I applaud
the filmmakers for never taking the Phillippe/Cornish
relationship to that oh-so-predictable level.
They also manage to end the film on a strong and
true note. I have read a few negative reviews
from respected right-wing critics that completely
missed the point of the ending. This is not surprising
since supporters of Bush and the war usually see
ONLY what they want to see anyway--or what they're
told they should be seeing.
Ryan Phillippe,
so effective in Clint Eastwood’s Flags
of Our Fathers last year, does his best work
to date as the beleaguered Brandon, at first content
to do his duty, but slowly waking to certain realities.
It’s a bracing and complex performance.
Newcomer Channing
Tatum makes good on the promise he showed in A
Guide to Recognizing Your Saints. Tatum takes
some great acting risks and they pay off resoundingly
while Joseph Gordon-Levitt adds another terrific
performance to an ever-growing resume’ of
impressive turns. Victor Rasuk is heartbreaking
as Rico, a wounded soldier who’s spirits
have not yet diminished.
Atypical for any
type of war-oriented film, women are allowed some
great moments as well. Abbie Cornish (who resembles
a young Nicole Kidman) is perfectly understated
as the confused Michele. Linda Emond embodies
everymom with a quiet power that is breathtaking.
And Mamie Gummer leaves her mark in a smallish
role and proves spookily reminiscent of her mother’s
(Meryl Streep) Deer Hunter performance
thirty years ago.
Production values
are excellent throughout with the great Chris
Mendes doing stunning camerawork. John Powell’s
score is potent and appropriately haunting.
At one point Peirce
uses a song by country superstar and resident
war-monger, Toby Keith to highlight just how misguided
so many of our young men were post-September 11th.
The ditty, “Courtesy of the Red, White and
Blue (The Angry American),” was written
to inspire our boys to want to seek revenge for
that tragedy. The problem was it also asked us
to blindly trust a President with his own agenda.
And while Keith never had to take responsibility
for the blood on his hands, true Americans like
the Dixie Chicks were vilified and demonized for
speaking out against an unjust war and a horrific
President.
If you haven’t
guessed, I do not support the evil that is George
W. Bush. And I do not understand how so many Americans
were blinded into believing he was invading Iraq
because of 9/11 when one thing had NOTHING to
do with the other. Finally, I will never understand
the mindset that says we are not allowed to be
critical of our President—especially when
he blunders big time. I state all this so all
my biases are up front.
Stop-Loss has
the guts to say certain things that desperately
need to be said. It is not only the best film
of 2008 to date, it happens to be the first relevant
film to deal with the Iraq War.
It was recently
reported that, in the five years since we invaded
Iraq, over 4,000 Americans are now dead. And,
as far as Bush is concerned, we are staying put.
Even the promise of a new President may not make
a withdrawal possible for a while to come since
there are many political factors to take into
account. Leaving, at this stage, might be more
detrimental for us. It’s all terribly frightening
and no one seems to care as much any more. Call
it Iraq War-fatigue, but Americans seem disinterested.
Stop-Loss is
an important reminder that our boys are still
dying AND is an accurate account of just one of
the legion of ways the Bush Administration has
turned our country into a borderline fascist regime
where the Commander-in-Chief can ride roughshot
over laws that have existed for over two hundred
years—laws that are supposed to protect
us as a democracy.
I urge everyone
to see this remarkable film; it has something
important to say and does so in a damned entertaining
and inspiring way.
Helen Hunt and Colin Firth
in
Then She Found Me
Helen
Hunt's
Then She Found Me
Opens Friday May 9th
Starring: Helen Hunt
