The story of Gary Faulkner, the "Rocky Mountain Rambo" who took a series of trips to Pakistan armed with only a samurai sword after claiming God told him to capture Osama Bin Laden, has all the ingredients for an interesting film. It's a surprise then, that ARMY OF ONE--arriving on DVD/Blu-ray just a week and a half after debuting on VOD--fails so spectacularly. Directed by Larry Charles (BORAT, CURB YOUR ENTHUSIASM) and written by Rajiv Joseph and Scott Rothman, the duo who scripted the entertaining Kevin Costner football movie DRAFT DAY, ARMY OF ONE hits a brick wall the moment Nicolas Cage opens his mouth. Faulkner, a pony-tailed stoner and part-time handyman with bad kidneys, is an eccentric character who's right up Cage's alley, but the actor sabotages the entire film by playing Faulkner as a nasally, screechy-voiced kook, when the real man's various talk show appearances in the wake of his bonkers pursuit showed him to be an affable, amusing, and occasionally even peculiarly charming oddball nothing like the freakish Bizarro Faulkner that Cage is playing here. Cage's grating, mannered, fingernails-on-a-blackboard performance is arguably the worst of his career, one straight out of a trainwreck ten-to-1:00 sketch on SNL. As soon as he speaks, every subsequent moment of ARMY OF ONE is excruciating.
God (Russell Brand, cast radically against type as "Russell Brand") first appears to Faulkner in 2004, during one of his dialysis treatments, prompting Faulkner to ask his nephrologist (Matthew Modine) for a $1000 loan to buy a boat to sail to Pakistan. When that doesn't work (the small boat capsizes and he ends up in Mexico), he tries to hang-glide into Pakistan and falls off a cliff, breaking his leg. He eventually gets to Pakistan and in 2010, thinks he's found Bin Laden, facing off against him in a swordfight in a cave, but it's all a trippy hallucination since he's gone weeks without a dialysis treatment. All the while, Faulkner is given moral support by his new girlfriend Marci (Wendi McLendon-Covey), who still has the Bon Jovi "Livin' on a Prayer" tramp stamp she got in high school and is now raising the special needs daughter of her dead junkie sister. Marci has made some bad decisions in her life, but she seems sane and entirely too level-headed to be falling for a doofus like Faulkner, or at least the doofus cartoon version of Faulkner that Cage is playing. The actor seems less interested in Faulkner as a character and more concerned with shaping this as his own BIG LEBOWSKI, and it fails on every level, be it slapstick, satire, or biopic. Charles, perhaps accustomed to the off-the-chain magic of Sacha Baron Cohen in BORAT and BRUNO, is content to let Cage run amok, making no attempt to rein him in at all, and the result is less Lebowski and more like a manic, talk-show Robin Williams at his most over-the-top. It's virtually unwatchable and while LEFT BEHIND is an easy pick for Cage's worst film, this might sting a little more because it had the ingredients to be something, and instead it falls victim to its star being in a self-indulgent mood and a director who's completely derelict in his duty. It's a career low for all, including reliable ringers like Paul Scheer and Will Sasso as Faulkner's buddies, and Denis O'Hare and Rainn Wilson as CIA agents on Faulkner's trail, taking time-outs to discuss Michael Dudikoff movies and defend Timothy Dalton-era 007. Dalton's a tragically underappreciated Bond, but not even that sentiment can save ARMY OF ONE. (R, 93 mins)
THE SEA OF TREES
(US - 2016)
Booed at Cannes and barely released by A24 on just 100 screens for a $20,000 box office take, Gus Van Sant's THE SEA OF TREES is the second 2016 movie (after the horror film THE FOREST) to be set in Japan's Aokigahara Forest. Located at the northwest base of Mount Fuji, Aokigahara is a place infamously known as "The Suicide Forest" and "The Sea of Trees," where an average of 100 people per year go to end their lives. The Japanese government forbids filming in the Aokigahara, so THE SEA OF TREES finds an acceptable substitute Suicide Forest in Massachusetts. Written by Chris Sparling (best known for writing high-concept enclosed-space thrillers like BURIED and ATM), THE SEA OF TREES is a maudlin and superficial drama that's completely schizophrenic in tone, a combination marital dysfunction story, a disease-of-the-week TV-movie, a survivalist adventure, and finally, a manipulative Nicholas Sparks-meets-Mitch Albom feelgood movie with a twist that any seasoned moviegoer will spot long before the main character does. Science professor Arthur Brennan (Matthew McConaughey) buys a one-way ticket to Tokyo with the intention of downing a handful of sleeping pills in the Suicide Forest. His plan to find a secluded spot and die peacefully is interrupted by the appearance of Takumi Nakamura (Ken Watanabe), a disheveled, confused man who says he's been lost in the forest for two days. As Arthur repeatedly tries and fails to get Takumi on a trail out of the forest, they're forced to survive the harsh elements and deal with injuries as they bond, Takumi selflessly listening to Arthur's long monologues about his failed marriage to Joan (Naomi Watts in flashbacks) and how her death led him to end his life in the the Sea of Trees. A slowly-paced character piece, THE SEA OF TREES gets good performances from the three stars, but it's a pretty tedious journey, especially once you figure out where this is headed with a big reveal that's a hoary cliche at this point, and even after that, when it just keeps getting more shamelessly manipulative by the moment. There had to be films more deserving of the booing this got at Cannes, as THE SEA OF TREES biggest crime is that it's plodding, simplistic, and obvious, but it's hardly the worst thing to come from the wildly erratic Van Sant. (PG-13, 111 mins)
ITHACA
(US - 2016)
After a seven-year absence from the big screen and without a big box office hit since 2001's KATE & LEOPOLD, Meg Ryan co-stars in and makes her directing debut with ITHACA, based on William Saroyen's 1943 novel The Human Comedy. That was the title of the original movie version, also released in 1943, which starred Mickey Rooney and was a contemporary, topical life-at-home WWII film of its time. Now, this new version is a dated nostalgia piece with no feeling for the time and place and absolutely nothing in the way of narrative drive whatsoever. However sincere and well-intentioned it may be, this is an astonishingly dull film that just never finds a spark or any sense of dramatic momentum on any level. With his older brother Marcus (Jack Quaid, Ryan's son with ex-husband Dennis Quaid) off at war and his father recently deceased, 14-year-old Homer (Alex Neuestaedter) is the man of the house, taking care of his little brother Ulysses (Spencer Howell) and getting a job as a telegram messenger to help out his still-grieving mom (Ryan). Mom still sees visions of Dad (executive producer Tom Hanks, a nice guy doing Ryan a kindness but opting to keep his name off the poster) hanging around the house, keeping an eye on the family he left behind. Homer gets a firsthand look at the war at home, with many of his telegram deliveries coming from the US government, informing parents, wives, and loved ones that their soldier has died in combat. Homer finds father figures in his bosses Tom (Hamish Linklater) and drunk old Willie (top-billed Sam Shepard), and, well, that's about it. Not much happens in ITHACA. Neuestaedter is certainly no Mickey Rooney, but it would be hard for any young actor to make something out of this. Ryan lets scenes linger long past the point of necessity, and it often feels like actors are uncomfortably sitting there waiting for her to say "Cut." There's no interesting arcs or even standard coming-of-age tropes in the script by Eric Jendresen, whose credits include writing a few episodes of the Hanks-produced BAND OF BROTHERS. ITHACA feels like Ryan and Hanks called in some favors from a bunch of old friends (the score was composed by John Mellencamp) and asked them to hang out with no clear endgame. Shepard has nothing to do but sit at his desk and look catatonic, and Hanks appears visibly lost in his few scenes, at one point just stopping and staring at Ryan in what I'm convinced is not character-based dismay. Running a brief 89 minutes but feeling like four hours, ITHACA, which went straight-to-VOD after two years on the shelf, misfires at every turn, a DOA adaptation of a beloved novel of its day, never connecting with the viewer on any emotional level and rendering it completely inert with its bargain-basement, would-be Norman Rockwell sense of forced homespun Americana. (PG, 89 mins)
MIDNIGHT SPECIAL (US - 2016) Written and directed by Jeff Nichols. Cast: Michael Shannon, Joel Edgerton, Kirsten Dunst, Adam Driver, Sam Shepard, Jaeden Lieberher, Bill Camp, Scott Haze, Paul Sparks, David Jensen, Dana Gourrier, Sean Bridgers. (PG-13, 112 mins) Since his brilliant 2008 debut SHOTGUN STORIES, Arkansas-based writer/director Jeff Nichols has explored family bonds and haunted legacies in distinct and vivid rural settings. His is a unique voice that has emerged over his follow-up efforts TAKE SHELTER (2011) and MUD (2013), a key film in the McConaissance of a few years back, in which Matthew McConaughey turned in an even better performance than he did in DALLAS BUYERS CLUB, even though it was the latter that got him an Oscar. MUD was enough of a sleeper hit to get Nichols his first major-studio production, the sci-fi drama MIDNIGHT SPECIAL, though it's hardly a commercial, multiplex endeavor. Warner Bros. opened it small after sitting on it for nearly two years and changing the release date a few times, and it's the kind of film that gains traction by word of mouth. Though he's working with a bigger budget and some reasonably conservative use of special effects, Nichols keeps MIDNIGHT SPECIAL very much in line with his own cinematic niche. In a way, it's his most personal film yet, inspired by a period where his then eight-month-old son was suffering seizures and was paralyzed for a month.
MIDNIGHT SPECIAL focuses on a family that's loving but shattered nonetheless. Nichols plays his cards close to the vest, offering small details here and there and leaving it to the audience to connect the dots, a brave decision in today's multiplexes. Roy Tomlin (Nichols regular Michael Shannon) and his friend Lucas (Joel Edgerton) are the subjects of a manhunt after an Amber Alert is issued for Alton Meyer (Jaeden Lieberher), the eight-year-old adopted son of Calvin Meyer (Sam Shepard). Meyer is the charismatically shady leader of a religious cult known as "The Ranch," whose Texas compound has just been raided by the FBI after months of surveillance. Meyer tells the agents in charge that Roy is Alton's biological father and that Roy and his estranged wife Sarah (Kirsten Dunst) recently left The Ranch. Meyer preaches a series of numbers that the FBI and NSA investigator Paul Sevier (Adam Driver) believe are top-secret coordinates transmitted from government satellites. Both are incredulous when Meyer tells them the numbers came out of Alton's mouth and he believes he's a vessel for God's word. While Meyer dispatches his own hired guns (Bill Camp, Scott Haze) to find Alton, the boy is being taken to an unknown location in Florida by his father and Lucas, a childhood friend of Roy's who lost touch with him after Roy's family joined Meyer's cult. For reasons that become clear as the film goes on, Alton cannot be out in daylight and must wear dark goggles that keep in check powerful beams of light that emanate from his eyes when he gets his "messages" and noise-canceling headphones in an attempt to keep him from picking up radio signals. When he brings down a government satellite and it crashes in pieces on a gas station in the middle of the night, the FBI turns the case over to Sevier, the NSA, and the military, who want to get to the bottom of Alton's unique abilities, but even they aren't prepared for the reality of Alton or his origin.
A very allegorical, metaphorical story open to a number of interpretations--is Alton a symbol for Jesus? Is he possessed? Is he from another world? Is he a young superhero learning to control his powers? Is he terminally ill?--MIDNIGHT SPECIAL may be Nichols' most personal film yet. In dealing with the situation involving his own ill infant son and the recovery that inspired him to conceive this story, Nichols gained new perspectives on parenthood that resonate in the relationship between Roy and Alton. Shannon, rarely a sympathetic figure onscreen, is often heartbreaking as a loving father struggling to put his family back together and willing to do whatever it takes, even sacrificing innocent bystanders, to fulfill his role as protector and make sure his son is safe. Much has been made of the Spielbergian, CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE THIRD KIND nature of MIDNIGHT SPECIAL, though I'd argue that a good chunk of the film could almost pass for John Carpenter in STARMAN mode or Joe Dante in one of his darker moods. Regardless of what's the bigger stylistic influence, MIDNIGHT SPECIAL feels like an early 1980s film lost in time, and that's meant to be a compliment. Nichols demonstrates an ability to tell a bigger story that grows more reliant on special effects as it proceeds while still keeping it grounded in his own style and tone. Nichols loves setting films in rural places and makes great use of empty highways and back country roads, and it's telling that MIDNIGHT SPECIAL's weakest section is its effects-filled finale, where the payoff doesn't quite match the buildup (also, Shepard's Calvin Meyer just disappears from the film), with an open-to-interpretation ending that feels a little hoary and played-out. Still, for a film that's bigger than anything he's done ($20 million is probably still considered "low-budget," but that's double what MUD cost), MIDNIGHT SPECIAL succeeds in the way it very much remains the distinctive work of its maker. That's something that's unusual to see in today's movies, particularly ones with big-studio money that gradually roll out to nationwide release. This isn't Nichols' best film, but it's still a very good one that's better than a lot of what's out there now, and with a 4-for-4 record, it's pretty clear by this point that this is someone we can start calling an important American filmmaker.
Based on a 1989 novel by genre-hopping author Joe R. Lansdale (BUBBA HO-TEP), COLD IN JULY is the latest film from the team of director/writer Jim Mickle and writer/actor Nick Damici. Their previous efforts--2007's MULBERRY ST, 2011's STAKE LAND, and 2013's WE ARE WHAT WE ARE--were firmly grounded in the horror genre, and while the crime thriller COLD IN JULY is a departure for the duo, it doesn't lack for terrifying moments and its share of disturbing plot developments. COLD IN JULY veers all over the place in tone, but Mickle and Damici's script and Mickle's confident direction handle these shifts with expert precision: one false note or overplayed line reading could've stalled or even derailed the momentum. And it is a relentlessly-paced piece of work, exhilarating and unpredictable, audacious and wild, the hard-boiled crime equivalent of Adam Wingard's YOU'RE NEXT. Mickle wears his love of John Carpenter on his sleeve, down to the Carpenter font title card and the pulsating, synth-heavy score by Jeff Grace. IFC didn't give this much of a release (73 screens, grossing $423,000) and primarily relegated it to VOD, but it's one of 2014's best films, anchored by a trio of pitch-perfect performances.
Set in East Texas in 1989, the film opens with picture framer Richard Dane (Michael C. Hall) and his schoolteacher wife Ann (Vinessa Shaw) awakened in the middle of the night by a burglar. After nervously loading his gun, Richard confronts the intruder and kills him after his finger slips on the trigger. It's an open-and-shut case of justifiable homicide for local cop Ray Price (Damici), who IDs the intruder as one Freddy Russell and arranges for the county to give him a quick burial. Trouble arrives in the form of Freddy's recently-paroled ex-con father Ben (Sam Shepard), who's none too pleased with Richard for killing his son and promptly begins threatening him, following him around, showing up at his young son's school, and eventually terrorizing his family. When Price informs Richard that Ben was arrested just over the Mexico border, Richard is relieved that the threat is gone but when he sees a Wanted mugshot for a "Freddy Russell" at the sheriff's office, he can see it's obviously not the guy he killed. Price starts behaving in an overly evasive fashion with Richard, enough that Richard starts following Price around, leading to the first of the film's unexpected detours. Needless to say, Price is hiding something and an unlikely alliance is formed between Richard and Ben--Richard wants to know why Price is lying to him and Ben wants to find out what's really up with his missing but very much alive son (played by Kurt Russell and Goldie Hawn's son Wyatt Russell, a dead ringer for his dad). Ben calls in a favor from his Korean War pal, pig farmer/flashy private eye Jim Bob Luke (damn near career-best work by Don Johnson), whose investigation into Freddy's whereabouts takes the film into some grim places involving the "Dixie Mafia," prostitution, and snuff films, prompting the three men to take matters into their own hands.
Hall, Shepard, and especially Johnson (who doesn't appear until nearly an hour in and when he does, he immediately steals the film from his co-stars) make such a terrific and oddly likable team that even a blatantly comedic sequence involving a car accident somehow manages to fit in with the brutal goings-on. Mickle and his regular cinematographer Ryan Samul create an extremely stylish look for COLD IN JULY, with garish reds, greens, and blues that give it an almost giallo hue at times. This extends to the gore-drenched finale, where Mickle manages to make something stunningly artistic out of blood from a blown-off head splattering a ceiling light and turning the room into a dark shade of crimson. Some elements of COLD IN JULY are reminiscent of the Coen Bros. in BLOOD SIMPLE mode, but it really is its own film, and it's the definitive cinematic statement thus far from Mickle and Damici, who've made some interesting yet flawed films but haven't knocked one out of the park until now. The brazenly original COLD IN JULY is the cold-cocking, knock-you-on-your-ass real deal. Nice job, guys. (R, 110 mins) OBVIOUS CHILD (US - 2014)
Jenny Slate's time as a featured player on SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE in the 2009-2010 season got off to the worst possible start when she secured her place in SNL lore by dropping an F-bomb during her first on-camera appearance. She wasn't brought back for a second season but has spent the subsequent years busting her ass on TV, with recurring roles on BORED TO DEATH, HELLO LADIES, PARKS AND RECREATION, HOUSE OF LIES, and MARRIED, and guest appearances on numerous others. She's continued building a name for herself in stand-up comedy circles, and OBVIOUS CHILD was supposed to be her big-screen breakthrough. While it received critical accolades and was riding on significant Sundance buzz, it didn't quite bring Slate into the mainstream as a headliner. It grossed just $3 million, which isn't bad for something only rolled out on 200 screens, a better tally than most things hailed as game-changers on the festival circuit only to land with a thud with the general public. Expanding her 2009 short film of the same title, which also starred a pre-SNL Slate, writer/director Gillian Robespierre handles sensitive and potentially divisive issues and takes risks in presenting a main character who she isn't afraid to show in a warts-and-all fashion. In a remarkably vanity-free performance, Slate is aspiring stand-up comic Donna, who's just been dumped by her thinks-antiperspirant-in-deodorant-causes-Alzheimer's boyfriend (Paul Briganti) right before she learns the indie bookstore where she's worked for five years is closing in a few weeks. Heartbroken Donna's sets at the comedy club turn into drunken, meandering rants, and she ends up having a one-night-stand with nice-guy video-game designer Max (Jake Lacy, "Pete" on the final season of THE OFFICE), and can't bring herself to tell him when she finds out she's pregnant several weeks later and has decided to get an abortion.
OBVIOUS CHILD handles its subject in as mature and matter-of-fact fashion as any film dealing with abortion has, and that includes Slate's portrayal of Donna, who's introduced as someone who doesn't seem to take things very seriously but her situation forces her to grow up fast and see her life in different ways. Robespierre isn't afraid to let Slate sometimes come off as mildly irritating at times, and despite the glowing reception she gets from the comedy club audience, her stand-up isn't always that funny. There's a tendency throughout to rely on Donna's obsession with scatological and bodily function-based humor and observations--though this isn't a grossout comedy, there's lots of talk about such things, and the moment Donna decides to go home with Max is right after they're pissing in an alley together and he accidentally farts in her face. It's presumably to make Donna (or Slate) a "real" and "just one of the guys" type, but Slate plays "real" emotion better in a beautifully-acted scene where she lays it all out for her judgmental, dismissive mom (Polly Draper), who responds with open arms, sympathy, and a revelation that she had an abortion herself during college. Slate and Draper play this scene perfectly and it's one of OBVIOUS CHILD's best moments. Slate's initial tendency toward the annoying and being the type who ends every sentence with, like, a question mark? dissipates as the film goes on, and her performance grows more steady and assured as Donna matures. In the end, OBVIOUS CHILD is a short and slight little character piece, charming and raunchy in equal doses and sometimes overly reliant on indie hipster tropes (it is set in Williamsburg and Brooklyn, after all), but admirably, other than a few cliches like the obligatory gay best friend (Gabe Liedman), a romantic comedy that isn't really interested in most conventions of the romantic comedy. Also with Richard Kind as Donna's dad, Gaby Hoffmann as her roommate, and David Cross in a small role as a comic friend who just scored a pilot deal. (R, 84 mins)
The latest from revered Italian filmmaking brothers Paolo and Vittorio Taviani (1977's PADRE PADRONE) is an improvement over their last effort, 2007's LARK FARM (released straight-to-DVD in the US in 2010), a misfired look at the 1915 Armenian Genocide and a multi-country co-production that asked us to buy German actor Moritz Bleibtreu (RUN LOLA RUN) dubbed into Italian and playing a Turkish officer named "Youseff." Mired in near telenovela-level histrionics and tacky splatter effects, LARK FARM was so appallingly tone-deaf that it seemed the aging siblings--Paolo is now 82, Vittorio 84--had completely lost it. CAESAR MUST DIE is an OK rebound and won the Golden Bear at the 2012 Berlin International Film Festival, but it's really not that good. The Tavianis indulge in a little smoke & mirrors what what they're doing here, setting up CAESAR MUST DIE as a documentary, only to reveal itself as a mock documentary that becomes a meta commentary on itself. With rare exception (BEING JOHN MALKOVICH and THE CABIN IN THE WOODS are two examples), these meta movies usually end up being exercises in pretension and directorial wankery. But the mostly black-and-white CAESAR MUST DIE is deceptively simple in its premise and execution, which makes you wonder why they chose to go with the ruse in the first place? A straight documentary on the same subject would've been fascinating: inmates in the high-security wing of Rome's Rebibbia Prison take part in a therapeutic theater workshop putting on a production of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. The inmates are not actors (except for Salvatore Striano as Brutus; Striano was in Matteo Garrone's GOMORRAH and served time in Rebibbia but was released and pardoned), but the action is staged. We're not watching a documentary of rehearsals--we're watching a staged re-enactment of rehearsals in the guise of a documentary. Comparisons to Abbas Kiarostami's CLOSE-UP were numerous, and I don't really see what the Tavianis are trying to accomplish by staging the film in this fashion. The inmates rehearse around the prison, so at times it resembles Julius Caesar re-imagined as a gritty prison drama, and again, that strikes you as another concept that would've been more intriguing than another meta venture.
For not being professional performers, some of the inmates are surprisingly credible actors with undeniable screen presence (Giovanni Arcuri as Caesar and Cosimo Rega as Cassius are standouts). Regardless of what acts they've committed--ranging from drug trafficking to, in Rega's case, murder--putting on this play gives the men purpose and a chance to immerse themselves in art. It's a point brought home in the final scenes as they return to their cells after their performance and it's a powerful image that the Tavianis ruin by having Rega look into the camera and make the heavy-handed proclamation "Since I got to know art, this cell has become a prison." Really, guys...we would've gotten the message. CAESAR MUST DIE is a mixed-bag and a bit of a missed opportunity, but it has its moments. (Unrated, 77 mins)
BLACKFISH (US - 2013)
Produced by CNN, BLACKFISH is a harsh condemnation of the practices of SeaWorld. Focused primarily on Tilikum, a six-ton orca at the Orlando SeaWorld, the film follows the killer whale from his 1983 capture to the present day. Tilikum has killed three people and has shown signs of aggression since his early days at the Canadian water park Sealand, a decrepit facility where part of his training involved being bullied by the other whales. It was there that he killed a trainer in 1991 and the park closed shortly after. He was moved to SeaWorld despite his record of aggression, primarily because the park was in need of a breeder. We see interviews with numerous former trainers juxtaposed with old camcorder footage of these same trainers during their SeaWorld days. All reiterate a consistent pattern of SeaWorld sweeping Tilikum's violent history under the rug. An unauthorized visitor was found dead in Tilikum's tank in 1999, after having snuck into the park in an apparent attempt to swim with the whale. Tilikum's most infamous act came in February 2010 when he attacked and ate trainer Karen Brancheau just after a performance (the film opens with a 911 call to an incredulous operator who responds with "A whale...ate one of the trainers?"). The former trainers, often holding back tears, tell of a systematic, calculated burying of information by SeaWorld executives who they felt had an obligation to inform them of the past incidents involving Tilikum, who still performs at the Orlando SeaWorld today. SeaWorld representatives declined to be interviewed for the film, but of course dispute its findings. Cowperthwaite clearly has an agenda, but she keeps the vitriol even-keeled and matter-of-fact, often letting archival footage and court records tell the story. Footage of baby whales being captured and the anguished cries of their mothers are absolutely gut-wrenching to witness, as is the notion of these great, majestic beasts being confined to tanks, psychologically defeated, their fins turning down (SeaWorld claims this is natural but the film asserts it only happens to 1% of whales not in captivity), and, in Tilikum's case, used essentially as a sperm donor. The film also notes that a few of Tilikum's 21 known offspring have been involved in other acts of captive aggression, indicating that the whale has a genetic predisposition to such behavior. Emotional, enraging, and often terrifying (the footage of a trainer being yanked by his foot and remaining calm as he's held underwater by one whale is one of the most frightening sequences in any movie this year), BLACKFISH is a must-see. (PG-13, 83 mins)
SHEPARD AND DARK (US - 2013)
Actor/writer Sam Shepard has been friends with Johnny Dark since 1963. Even as their lives drifted in different directions and they'd go a year or more without seeing one another, their bond remained. Shepard, of course, is a Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright and busy Hollywood character actor. Dark lives a quiet life in Deming, New Mexico, working at a supermarket, content to live among his books, smoke a little weed, and write stories and essays on his ancient PC. In 2010, Shepard was asked to donate his personal papers to the University of Texas and takes the opportunity to go through some letters he received from Dark over the decades. Dark, meanwhile, saves and archives everything and has his life meticulously mapped out in scrapbooks and photo albums. Shepard reaches out to Dark to share the letters sent to him and put their decades of correspondence in a book. Shepard tells Dark that he set up the book deal because he's got no money coming in (Shepard doesn't appear to live extravagantly, but it's doubtful that needs the money), but part of it is that he wants to help his old friend out and build him a bit of a financial cushion. As the two men reconnect and reminisce, it's great fun watching them laugh at decades-old inside jokes as they sift through letters in a corner booth at Denny's (there's also some footage at Shepard's 67th birthday dinner, where he's joined by pals Harry Dean Stanton and T-Bone Burnett). But as they get deeper into the project, director Treva Wurmfeld gradually reveals vital details to the audience: Dark's late wife Scarlett was the mother of Shepard's first wife, actress O-Lan Jones. The four lived together for years and they all took care of Scarlett after she survived a brain aneurysm. By 1983, Shepard's acting career was taking off and he met Jessica Lange, eventually deciding to leave his family and run off with her. It was a decision he agonized over, especially since he was hesitant to leave his and Jones' 13-year-old son Jesse, but he did it anyway, leaving Dark to be a surrogate father to the boy. Shepard and Lange were together until 2009, and the breakup is still heavy on Shepard's mind at the time of this book project. Dark surmises that this project was really just Shepard's way of dealing with it and being able to put it away and move on. Shepard is clearly haunted by his decisions, he's critical of his selfishness ("I've hurt people," he says, shaking his head) and going through the letters rips open old wounds and takes him back to a place he wasn't ready to go (not just with Lange, but with his alcoholic father), or at least isn't ready to share with Wurmfeld.
What starts out as two friends jovially reconnecting after some time apart turns into a devastating self-examination for Shepard. It's hard watching him reflect on the choices he's made and the guilt he still feels over leaving his wife and son. There's a line in a Shepard play that Wurmfeld spotlights about "how unprepared we are to face the truth," and Dark illustrates just how much of Shepard's life--his father, the guilt over leaving his family, the recurring "responsible brother" figure (meaning, Dark)--is in his work (think of Stanton leaving his son in the care of brother Dean Stockwell in Wim Wenders' Shepard-penned 1984 film PARIS, TEXAS). Dark is content with his life and never had the restlessness or the need to wander like Shepard has, though he does confess that he frequently feels more like Shepard's sidekick than his best friend. Wurmfeld very cleverly and deliberately lets the story build as it goes places no one--Shepard, Dark, the viewer--expects it to go, and she doesn't sugarcoat things to make Shepard look better. A frequently remarkable gem, and one of the best films of this year that you've heard nothing about. (Unrated, 88 mins)
Directed by Scott Cooper. Written by Brad Ingelsby and Scott Cooper. Cast: Christian Bale, Woody Harrelson, Casey Affleck, Forest Whitaker, Willem Dafoe, Zoe Saldana, Sam Shepard, Tom Bower, Bingo O'Malley, Dendrie Taylor. (R, 116 mins)
Initially planned as a Ridley Scott film starring Leonardo DiCaprio (both stayed on as producers), OUT OF THE FURNACE is the second effort by CRAZY HEART director Scott Cooper, and it's an ambitious, often very subtle mood piece disguised as a revenge thriller. Set in the mid-2000s to the present day, FURNACE takes place in a small, blue collar Pennsylvania town and Cooper does a marvelous job of conveying that unique atmosphere of a town where smoke and steam are constantly billowing through the air, everyone works at the same mill, drinks at the same bar, and everyone knows everyone. It's the kind of place where time is not exactly frozen, but it seems to be about a decade or two behind. Generation after generation works at the mill, and no one ever really leaves. Rodney Baze (Casey Affleck) tries to leave by joining the military and serving multiple tours in Iraq, but he comes back a damaged, broken man. He doesn't want to work at the mill, even though it was good enough for his older brother Russell (Christian Bale) and their dad (Bingo O'Malley sighting!), who's dying of cancer. When playing the ponies only ends up with him deep in debt to local loan shark John Petty (Willem Dafoe), he decides to be Petty's fighter in a bare-knuckle brawling ring. Rodney takes a dive to help settle Petty's debt to Harlan DeGroat (Woody Harrelson), a snarling, almost demonic meth kingpin and "inbred Jersey" crime lord who's so vicious and dangerous that even the cops--both local and state--are afraid to go after him. Needless to say, things don't go as planned.
But the film isn't about Rodney. It's about Russell, and one of the strong points of the script is that it takes its time building the characters and circumstances. It's a good hour before the crux of the plot is set in motion and it works because it helps you know these people. It's uncommon in a lot of today's mainstream cinema to be this character-driven. It's the kind of construction that was commonplace in the '70s but has little place in today's multiplexes. To that end, you can probably file OUT OF THE FURNACE in that same burgeoning "refusing to give the audience what it wants" subgenre of low CinemaScore grades along with KILLING THEM SOFTLY and THE COUNSELOR. At least for a while, that is. But more on that in a bit.
Russell has always felt the need to bail his little brother out of trouble, and that's still the case well into adulthood. He wants to settle down and marry his girlfriend Lena (Zoe Saldana), but after one too many drinks at the bar where he goes to settle another of Rodney's debts with Petty, he gets in a car accident that kills the occupants of the other vehicle (including a child). The crash wasn't completely Russell's fault--the other car was backing out of a driveway and didn't see Russell's truck--but he was driving under the influence, and is sent to prison for five years, during which time his father dies and Lena leaves him for police chief Barnes (Forest Whitaker). When the shit hits the fan between his brother and DeGroat and the police prove predictably useless, family does what family does, and Russell and his Uncle Red (Sam Shepard) decide to take matters into their own hands.
Barnes makes an interesting comment to Russell at one point, trying to talk him out of going vigilante and explaining that DeGroat and his hillbilly brethren have "entire generations who have never come down off that mountain." You could probably say the same thing about the Baze family and their friends and neighbors. The script doesn't really explore those parallels since we don't learn much about DeGroat's clan. Once Russell and Uncle Red decide to take action, the film becomes inconsistent and skids a bit. It's never believable for a moment that Russell and Uncle Red gain such easy access to DeGroat's meth headquarters and are permitted to walk out upright. Nor is it plausible that DeGroat would just bring one flunky with him to meet a mystery man who's threatened him over the phone. The actors are almost all superb across the board, particularly Bale who, the disastrous HARSH TIMES excepting, can disappear into any role and accent, and a terrifying Harrelson, who's introduced in the opening scene and only appears fleetingly for the next hour or so, but his powerful presence is felt even in his absence. Shepard, who's aged into one of our finest character actors (if you haven't seen the barely-released BLACKTHORN, you're missing one of the best films of the last few years that no one's heard of), is a performer who can speak volumes without saying a word, and he's perfect as Russell's voice of reason. The only real botch in the casting is with Whitaker, who starts using some bizarre grunting voice midway through his performance that completely derails every scene he's in from that point. It's almost like he's trying to use Bale's Batman voice. Whitaker has historically been a fine actor and the guy's got an Academy Award. I haven't seen LEE DANIELS' THE BUTLER yet, but this is another in a string of embarrassing performances by the actor, who at some point apparently forgot how to act.
And then there's the ending. Without spoiling anything, Cooper has said that the final shot is an homage to THE GODFATHER PART II. Maybe it was in the script, maybe it wasn't, but if the film ended one shot sooner, it would be remarkably more effective. The terrible final shot destroys the ambiguity of what just came before it--which is where it should've ended--and feels not like an homage to a classic film but rather, a focus-group-suggested decision by the studio to spell everything out for audiences who want definitive closure. The shot before the final shot wasn't quite on the level of THE SOPRANOS as far as open-endedness goes, but it would've been a much more powerful experience if it ended there. In short, there's much to appreciate in OUT OF THE FURNACE, but some bumbling and stumbling in the second half unquestionably do it some irreparable harm.
Written and directed by Andrew Dominik. Cast: Brad Pitt, Richard Jenkins, James Gandolfini, Ray Liotta, Scoot McNairy, Ben Mendelsohn, Sam Shepard, Vincent Curatola, Max Casella, Trevor Long, Slaine. (R, 97 mins)
I wasn't able to see KILLING THEM SOFTLY until nearly a week after it opened to critical acclaim and audience rage, so it's impossible to discuss the film without conducting a post-mortem of it. Writer/director Andrew Dominik's follow-up to his critically-lauded but studio-abandoned THE ASSASSINATION OF JESSE JAMES BY THE COWARD ROBERT FORD bowed to utterly toxic audience reaction during its opening weekend and functions as one of the year's more alarming examples of a massive critic/audience disconnect. It's not uncommon or unexpected for an ad campaign to intentionally misdirect an audience in order to hide a plot twist, but there's plenty of fairly recent examples of studios very deceptively and intentionally selling an arthouse-type film as something it isn't because they know it's not mainstream or multiplex-friendly. Very often, films like this get tiny theatrical releases in one or two cities before being dumped on DVD, but sometimes, there's maybe a big name involved and it can have a huge opening weekend before the negative buzz circulates. 20th Century Fox opening Steven Soderbergh's 2002 remake of SOLARIS nationwide on Thanksgiving weekend to rope in the George Clooney/OCEAN'S ELEVEN crowd stands as a particularly egregiously ballsy example. Lionsgate sold William Friedkin's BUG as a horror film, sucking people in with "From the director of THE EXORCIST." Not a lie, but not really preparing audiences for an adaptation of a stage play where Ashley Judd freaks out in a motel room for two hours. Clooney had this happen again with 2010's THE AMERICAN, which Focus opened nationwide and sold as an action-packed suspense thriller when in fact it's an austere, methodical, glacially slow-paced character study filled with long stretches of silence. I saw THE AMERICAN with an audience where the impatience and discontent grew from dramatic sighs midway through to a palpable fury by the end, with one woman shouting "Hang the director!" as the closing credits rolled. Through no fault of the films themselves, there's certainly an argument to be made for their marketing being examples of blatant audience contempt. It's not like the days of old when the inaccurate depiction of horror and exploitation films was largely a standard practice. No, the studios behind SOLARIS and THE AMERICAN cynically took advantage of Clooney's celebrity to sell small, artsy, limited-appeal films to an unsuspecting commercial audience, when they shouldn't have been opening wide in the first place (it's worth noting that Clooney produced THE AMERICAN but refused to do any publicity for it--was he protesting the marketing?). Audiences seemed to be a lot more open to these kinds of challenging films in decades past, but are moviegoers dumber today? Yeah, probably, though it might not be that simple. They're certainly less tolerant when faced with a film that goes against their expectations. I can't imagine a sign at a movie theater entrance in 1975 like the hand-written one I was confronted with when I went to see PUNCH DRUNK LOVE in 2002 ("PUNCH DRUNK LOVE is not a typical Adam Sandler comedy--refunds will not be given due to the content of the film"). But film snobs and cineastes are just as knee-jerk reactionary and misguided when they say things like "Sorry if this movie made you think!" or "Just go see a Michael Bay movie instead." It's hard to disagree with someone who's peeved about dropping $50 on tickets and concessions for themselves and their significant other and the George Clooney action thriller they were sold turns out to be a somber Jean-Pierre Melville homage. Other than extreme levels of multiplex audience scorn, what do films like SOLARIS, BUG, and THE AMERICAN have in common? They're good once one considers them without the mainstream expectations.
KILLING THEM SOFTLY didn't even get a chance to rake in some box office before the negative word-of-mouth spread like a virus. Having said that, and after seeing it, if one doesn't follow movie news and decides to see it based solely on the marketing, I don't find the trailer for KILLING THEM SOFTLY to be all that deceptive, though I'll concede it's more of an arthouse film that probably shouldn't have opened wide "in theaters everywhere." The plot is essentially what's laid out in the trailer. What audiences seemed to revolt against was the fact that it's largely character-driven and very dialogue-heavy. If a trailer has blatantly lied to a prospective audience, that audience is justified in their displeasure, but the intense mainstream hatred for KILLING THEM SOFTLY? That's on the audience. The trailer didn't sell something that wasn't there. People saw Brad Pitt and guns, and jumped to their own conclusions. Know what you're going to see. Know that it's from the guy who made THE ASSASSINATION OF JESSE JAMES BY THE COWARD ROBERT FORD. Know that it's based on a 1970s novel by a guy who specialized in chronicling the blue-collar, working-stiff aspect of the mob. This isn't Brad Pitt's SCARFACE.
KILLING THEM SOFTLY is based on George V. Higgins' 1974 novel Cogan's Trade. Higgins also wrote the 1970 novel The Friends of Eddie Coyle, which was turned into a 1973 box-office flop with Robert Mitchum and Peter Boyle that's now rightfully considered one of the great mob movies. Both books and their subsequent film adaptations focus on the seedy, unglamourous, average Joe, nickel-and-dime side of gangster life. Dominik updates Higgins' work to include a politically-charged undercurrent of the 2008 election, with frequent TV shots and talk radio clips of a campaigning Barack Obama and soon-to-be-outgoing President George W. Bush discussing the Wall Street bailout. Dominik uses these elements and a change in setting from Boston to New Orleans to illustrate that even the mob is susceptible to economic and recession woes, but it's a point that he belabors a bit too heavy-handedly as the film proceeds, though it does wrap up with a declaration by Pitt's character that's maybe my favorite movie line of 2012.
The film begins with low-level New Orleans mobster Johnny "The Squirrel" Amato (Vincent Curatola, best known as Johnny Sack on THE SOPRANOS) hatching a plan from the dingy office of his dry-cleaning business: he's persuaded dim, skeezy flunky Frankie (Scoot McNairy) and his Australian junkie buddy Russell (Ben Mendelsohn) to knock over an illegal card game run by numbers guy Markie Trattman (Ray Liotta). Frankie balks because he knows such an act would put a hit out on them, but Trattman infamously staged a robbery of one of his own card games in the past and was granted a pass for it. If it happens a second time, the bosses would naturally assume he stupidly tried it again and wouldn't be as forgiving. Frankie and Russell pull off the job, and of course, Markie looks guilty until Russell starts bragging about it and it gets back to mob enforcer Dillon (Sam Shepard). Dillon dispatches hit man Jackie Cogan (Pitt) to meet with a mysterious go-between known as The Driver (Richard Jenkins) to work out a plan to whack Frankie, Russell, The Squirrel, and, at Jackie's insistence, Markie, now deemed a business liability even though he wasn't part of the second heist. Jackie insists on a second man to assist, so New York Mickey (James Gandolfini) is brought in. Mickey, once a feared and respected figure, is depressed over his marital troubles and now an alcoholic, sex-addicted shell of what he once was, even agreeing to a lower fee because times are tough and he needs the money.
From the start, Dominik lets the story unfold naturally and takes his time establishing the characters. Pitt doesn't even appear until nearly 30 minutes in. Outstanding performances all around, right down to the smaller roles, though Shepard's really feels cut down, as Dillon is mentioned frequently but actually on screen for less than a minute (and incidentally, Higgins' novels took place in the same universe, and not having read them, I'm assuming that Shepard's Dillon and Peter Boyle's Dillon in THE FRIENDS OF EDDIE COYLE were likely the same character in the books). Gandolfini only has two or three scenes, but they're long scenes and he's able to make a vivid impression of what at times seems like Tony Soprano if he hit rock bottom. Liotta, who busts out his signature laugh at one point, manages to evoke genuine sympathy when the hapless Markie is subjected to one of cinema's most brutal, stomach-turning beatings. These characters don't talk or behave like Tarantino-esque pop-culture gangsters, but the real, gritty deal. The film features some of the harshest and most spectacularly foul language you'll hear in a movie this year, even when they aren't dropping a near-record number of F-bombs (at one point, Mickey berates a tip-demanding hooker with "You want a tip? Put the condom on with your mouth and stop acting like your anus is a national monument"). Other than the frequent use of Obama and Bush soundbites, KILLING THEM SOFTLY looks and feels like it could've been made in 1977. From the fashions to the cars to their attitudes, these aging wiseguys have never moved beyond their glory days, and the realization seems to be hitting them during the hard times of the recession with the increased corporatization, red tape, penny-pinching, and micro-managing inherent in their world. As evidenced by his final, seething monologue, Jackie is the only one who seems to get it.
Like THE ASSASSINATION OF JESSE JAMES BY THE COWARD ROBERT FORD (which is in my top five favorite films of the last decade), KILLING THEM SOFTLY is not a commercial endeavor, and it will likely be some time before it can be appreciated and valued away from the standards and expectations of a mainstream multiplex movie audience. It's a terrific film, smartly written, richly detailed, and not at all deserving of the hatred being leveled at it by average moviegoers. Its day will come and maybe for those who disliked it so intensely, something will draw them back to give it a second chance and without the baggage of its box office failure and the "F" grade from the inane Cinemascore, perhaps then it will click. Until then, let the devoted cult following begin.
