In Theaters: A SEPARATION (2011)

A SEPARATION
(Iran/France - 2011)

Written and directed by Asghar Farhadi.  Cast: Leila Hatami, Peyman Moadi, Sareh Bayet, Shahab Hosseini, Sarina Farhadi, Ali-Asghar Shahbazi, Kimia Hosseini, Babak Kirimi. (PG-13, 123 mins)

This year's Best Foreign Language Film Oscar winner is deserving of all accolades, a powerful, gut-wrenching examination of a situation that spirals beyond what any of the participants thought possible (when reminded he said the predicament wasn't serious, all one character can say is "It got serious").  Writer/director Asghar Farhadi's film takes place in an Islamic world run by religious law, but it's not a critique, it never panders, it never politicizes, and it never takes a side.  No one in the film is completely right and no one is completely wrong.  It's a compassionate film with characters doing what they believe is right.  It's a complex film of many ambiguities and gray areas that will have you thinking about it and debating it long after viewing.  It's a great film, and a very moving, very human drama.

Leila Hatami as Simin

After 14 years of marriage, largely secular Iranian couple Nader (Peyman Moadi) and Simin (Leila Hatami) have elected to divorce.  They still love each other and want to remain married, but Simin wants to move their 11-year-old daughter Termeh (Sarina Farhadi, the director's daughter) to the west, away from the relentlessly strict Islamic culture of Iran.  Nader wants to move as well, but the only thing keeping him in Iran is his elderly, Alzheimer's-stricken father (Ali-Asghar Shahbazi), who lives with them and needs constant care.  Simin goes to live with her mother, while Termeh stays with Nader.  Needing someone to care for his father while he's at work and Termeh is at school, Nader hires Razieh (Sareh Bayet), who doesn't really want the job, but her husband Hodjat (Shahab Hosseini) is unemployed and has spent time in jail for money owed to creditors.  Razieh needs the job, but has to hide it from Hodjat, a devout Muslim who could never allow his wife, even accompanied by their young daughter Someyah (Kimia Hosseini), to be in a house with a man whose wife is not present.  Problems arise on the first day of the job when Nader's father soils himself, and Razieh needs to call a religious advisor to ensure that removing his pants and cleaning him won't constitute a sin ("I won't tell Daddy," whispers Someyah, who already shows wisdom beyond her years).  The second day, the old man manages to wander down the street, and on the third day, Nader and Termeh arrive home to find Razieh and Someyah gone and the old man tied to his bed.  Razieh explains that an emergency required her to leave.  Nader insists that some money is missing from a drawer.  Razieh demands to be paid.  An argument ensues and Nader pushes her out the door.  Razieh ends up hospitalized, claiming Nader pushed her hard enough to cause her to fall down some steps, resulting in a miscarriage.  Nader didn't know she was pregnant.  An enraged Hodjat finds out his wife has been working for Nader, then has Nader charged with murder in the death of the unborn child.

Nader (Peyman Moadi) and his father (Ali-Asghar Shahbazi)

What makes A SEPARATION so fascinating is the way that every event, no matter how seemingly trivial and inconsequential, comes into play later on.  You marvel at the intricate construction of Farhadi's script.  These actors are unfamiliar to most western audiences (Hatami is a major star and a popular, award-winning actress in Iranian cinema), which, from the perspective of an American audience, makes them even more believable.  Everyone is excellent in this, and most impressive are the two younger co-stars, particularly little Kimia Hosseini as Someyah. Sarina Farhadi, whose Termeh is really the emotional center of the story, delivers a strong performance, and the casting works most of the time.  I say "most of the time," because I kept thinking "She looks a little older than 11."   She was 18 (!) at the time of filming.  She doesn't look 18, but she definitely looks older than 11 (I was guessing 14) and while it's not quite Martin Short in CLIFFORD, it is an occasional distraction.  Other than that very minor issue, A SEPARATION is a brilliant film that will stay with you long after it's over.

Hodjat (Shahab Hosseini) and Razieh (Sareh Bayet)

18-year-old Sarina Farhadi as 11-year-old Termeh.  11?!

Kimia Hosseini as Someyah

On DVD/Blu-ray: Special "Actresses Screwed By Oscar" Edition: Kirsten Dunst and Charlotte Gainsbourg in MELANCHOLIA (2011); Charlize Theron in YOUNG ADULT (2011)

MELANCHOLIA
(Denmark/Sweden/France/Germany - 2011)

As a filmmaker, Lars von Trier is the kind of provocateur who constantly walks that fine line between "visionary genius" and "kid in the back of the classroom making fart noises under his arm."  A lot of what von Trier does, he does simply for the reaction and the attention.  He very nearly derailed MELANCHOLIA's Cannes showing last year with comments that came across as strangely pro-Hitler, so much so that star Kirsten Dunst said something to the effect of "Sometimes Lars doesn't know when to shut up."  And he should shut up and let his films speak for themselves, because the mesmerizing MELANCHOLIA is a one-of-a-kind film--a simple description would be that it's von Trier's Tarkovsky film--and probably the director's best since 1996's BREAKING THE WAVES.

The first half of the film presents what's possibly the most awkward wedding reception in film history, as Justine (Dunst, who won the Best Actress award at Cannes) realizes early into the reception that she doesn't really want to be with Michael (Alexander Skarsgard).  Von Trier plays things close to the vest, and it doesn't take long, judging from the couple's interactions and family reactions (horrible mom Charlotte Rampling delivers the most uncomfortably bitter wedding toast ever), to see that Justine is severely depressed and mentally ill to a significant degree.  The second half of the film takes place some time later (weeks, maybe months) as Justine, who's worse than ever, is staying with her devoted, long-suffering sister Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg), her rich husband John (Kiefer Sutherland), and their young son Leo (Cameron Spurr) at their ludicrously expansive mansion (they have their own 18-hole golf course) as Melancholia, a planet long hidden behind the sun, has gone off course and is set to pass--or possibly collide with--Earth.

Dunst is a revelation here, but as great as she is, Gainsbourg is the driving force and central character throughout MELANCHOLIA.  Both deserved Oscar nominations (probably Sutherland as well) and I can only conclude that von Trier's big mouth stopped that from happening.  Gainsbourg allowed herself to be put through hell on von Trier's ANTICHRIST (2009) and does it again here, albeit to a lesser degree.  Gainsbourg has always been a fine actress, but von Trier brings out the absolute best in her.  It's interesting to consider the horror stories that actresses have in regards to working with von Trier, but the stars of his films with women as central characters--Emily Watson in BREAKING THE WAVES, Bjork in DANCER IN THE DARK, Nicole Kidman in DOGVILLE, Gainsbourg and Dunst--have turned in some of the most moving, haunting, unforgettable performances in film in the last couple decades. In short, MELANCHOLIA is a stunning experience, filled with von Trier's usual sense of cynical misanthropia, but there's a focus and a maturity to it that was lacking in some of his past work, especially the experimental and over-the-top DOGVILLE and its disastrous follow-up MANDERLAY.  But it's also got more humor than usual (a long limo unable to make it up the sharp turns of John's twisty driveway; Udo Kier as a bitchy, drama queen wedding planner who refuses to look at Justine when she and Michael are late to the reception).  Also with Stellan Skarsgard, Brady Corbet, Jesper Christensen, and John Hurt.  One of 2011's best.  (R, 135 mins).


YOUNG ADULT
(US - 2011)

Despite mostly positive reviews and early awards buzz, YOUNG ADULT disappeared from theaters fairly quickly.  Probably a variety of reasons:  released at the wrong time, not really a wide-release, "in theaters everywhere" kind of movie, or people realized they were still sick of JUNO screenwriter Diablo Cody.  However annoying she may be, YOUNG ADULT is Cody's most accomplished, mature script thus far (no snarky, hipster witticisms or catchphrases to be heard here), but she and JUNO director Jason Reitman didn't have anywhere near the same level of audience interest this time out.  That's a shame, because it's an excellent, difficult film that's not for all tastes, and it's indeed one that's occasionally just too dark and uncomfortable.  I wish I'd seen this in theaters just to experience the baby-naming party with an audience.  Charlize Theron, in a great performance, is Mavis Gary, an alcoholic, self-destructive, Minneapolis-based ghost writer of a past-its-prime Young Adult fiction series.  37 and recently divorced, she decides to head back to Mercury, the small Minnesota town of her youth, with the intention of reconnecting and running off with her high school boyfriend Buddy (Patrick Wilson), even though he's happily married with a newborn daughter.  For most of the film, Theron's Mavis comes across as bitchy and self-absorbed, and completely oblivious to the fact that her plan is selfish and ridiculous.  But through her interactions with Buddy and with forgotten high school outcast Matt (Patton Oswalt), left disabled from a beating he received from a group of jocks ("the same ones you used to blow during lunch," he reminds her), and with whom she forms an unlikely bond, we start to see just how much pain and sadness Mavis is desperately and unsuccessfully trying to hide. 

And even despite that, she's still a profoundly unlikable person who still thinks she's better than everyone else, which may be the biggest reason this didn't catch on with mainstream audiences who demand likable protagonists.  Mavis is likely going home not just for Buddy, but also because, anonymous professionally as well as personally in the big city, Mercury is the one place she's still "somebody."   The film takes no pleasure in Mavis' misery and impending breakdown, nor does it let the outcasts off the hook, as in the revelatory scene where Matt's sister (Collette Wolfe) still resorts to kissing Mavis' ass in a pathetic, 20-years-past-high school attempt to win her favor.  Theron and Oswalt are both terrific.  Between this and the equally squirm-inducing BIG FAN, Oswalt has evolved into a gifted character actor.  YOUNG ADULT is funny, tragic, devastating, angry, and bleakly depressing in equal doses.  One late plot turn doesn't ring entirely true and the finale seems entirely too rushed (at just past 90 minutes, this actually might've felt more complete if it was 10-15 minutes longer) but this is the kind of film, like an EMPIRE RECORDS or a DONNIE DARKO, just to name two films that initially fell through the cracks only to be discovered some time later on VHS or DVD, that speaks to a certain age group at the time of its release and is embraced as something very personal and meaningful to them.  And it's a film that will have staying power and be able to find new viewers who get to the right age to relate to it, and who may find themselves pushing 40 and nowhere near where they wanted to be in life.  YOUNG ADULT was sold to the JUNO crowd, but it should've included the caveat "Give it 20 years...you'll get it then."  (R, 93 mins)

On DVD: YOUNG, VIOLENT, DANGEROUS (1976); THE GIRL IN ROOM 2A (1974)

YOUNG, VIOLENT, DANGEROUS
(Italy - 1976)

Mostly forgettable Italian crime obscurity written by Fernando Di Leo and featuring Tomas Milian is of little interest to anyone but Eurocult die-hards.  Raro USA's packaging makes it look like a Milian polizia, but he's really just got a supporting role as a dogged inspector after a trio of rich kids on a crime spree.  He's tipped off by Lea (INFERNO's Eleonora Giorgi) that her boyfriend Louie (Max Delys), and his pals Paul (Stefano Patrizi) and Joe (Benjamin Lev) are planning to rob a gas station with toy guns.  Louie is the reluctant driver and isn't aware that Paul and Joe are packing real heat and don't plan on stopping with the gas station.  Why?  Spoiled boredom and bad parenting, according to Milian, who spends his time lecturing their parents and telling them "Communication is the key to understanding."  You don't normally watch Italian crime films expecting Afterschool Special messages.  Was Di Leo going soft here?  These shitbags don't need a hug.  They need Milian smashing their heads through pinball machines Maurizio Merli-style.

1976 Italian poster

Di Leo and director Romolo Guerrieri (THE FINAL EXECUTIONER) choose to focus on the three hoods--none of whom are very interesting characters or actors (Joe is incredibly annoying, made even more insufferable by Lev's nonstop mugging)--while making the mistake of relegating a commanding presence like Milian to the sideline.  YOUNG, VIOLENT, DANGEROUS (original Italian title: LIBERI ARMATI PERICOLOSI) has a couple of good chase sequences and is never dull, but it's definitely not top-tier Italo crime.  Guerrieri, a competent journeyman director, just doesn't have the sense of style or energy that an Enzo G. Castellari (Guerrieri's nephew), an Umberto Lenzi or Di Leo himself would bring to these kinds of films.  Raro's DVD has been remastered and looks surprisingly good considering the 1.85:1 image is presented non-anamorphic.  Non-anamorphic.  In 2012.  Really, Raro USA?  Includes Italian and English audio tracks (the latter featuring the usual dubbing voices like Ted Rusoff, Michael Forest, Pat Starke, and others).  There's also an interview segment with Guerrieri, shot in 2004, a Guerrieri bio and filmography, plus a PDF critical essay to view on your PC in place of the booklet Raro used to put in the packaging. PDF, non-anamorphic...Raro USA's been up and running for a year, but after a roaring start, has recently had two glitch-laden releases (THE SECRET OF DORIAN GRAY and TO BE TWENTY) and now they're already cutting corners elsewhere.  All things considered, the YOUNG, VIOLENT, DANGEROUS DVD presentation has some issues, but it's an acceptable package for hardcore Eurocult genre addicts and completists. (Unrated, 97 mins)




THE GIRL IN ROOM 2A
(Italy - 1974)

Molasses-paced Eurosleaze from grindhouse god Dick Randall, an American expat who had a long career producing trashy, bad-movie classics in Hong Kong, Italy, Spain, and the UK.  Anyone familiar with gems such as CHALLENGE OF THE TIGER, FRANKENSTEIN'S CASTLE OF FREAKS, DON'T OPEN TILL CHRISTMAS, SLAUGHTER HIGH, the infamous Weng Weng vehicle FOR Y'UR HEIGHT ONLY, and the immortal PIECES, arguably the greatest bad movie ever made, already has a handle on Randall.  The Italian-made kinda-sorta-giallo THE GIRL IN ROOM 2A, written and directed by American William Rose, takes forever to get going with its story of an unjustly-jailed young woman (Daniela Giordano), paroled to a halfway house run by a group of mysterious weirdos who take it upon themselves to punish "bad" girls--who always get assigned to Room 2A--as some sort of moral Inquisition of their own.  They even have a red-cloaked/hooded torturer, who looks like a villain out of a 1940s Republic Pictures serial.  Giordano sees all sorts of strange goings-on and teams up with John Scanlon, whose sister was a previous tenant of Room 2A, to investigate.

1975 US theatrical poster

Rose, who only made '60s underground NYC nudie flicks up to this point (with titles like THE SMUT PEDDLER, PROFESSOR LUST and 50,000 B.C. (BEFORE CLOTHING)), has no sense of pacing whatsoever and is hopelessly out of his element making a--and I use the term loosely--"legit" film.  The film is a total snooze enlivened only by intermittent nudity or splatter, filled with ludicrously inappropriate music that does nothing to establish a suspenseful mood.  What's supposed to be a scary sequence is ruined by what sounds periously close to circus music.  Randall must've stepped in to save the day, because after 75 minutes of coma-inducing torpor, THE GIRL IN ROOM 2A erupts into all-out hilarity during the ridiculous climax, filled with cheap gore, terrible music, awful fight choreography, and just the general nonsense that one normally associates with Dick Randall productions, as Giordano is about to be sacrificed while Scanlon and his sister's ex-boyfriend (longtime Randall pal and ex-peplum star Brad Harris) attempt to rescue her.  The last ten or so minutes are so stupidly entertaining and laugh-out-loud funny that it makes the first 75 totally worth the endurance.  Also with Eurocult regulars Rosalba Neri, Karen Schubert, Frank Latimore and Angelo Infanti, plus, as the main villain, a curiously slumming Raf Vallone, who was getting a lot of work in Hollywood movies and on American TV at the time.  Mondo Macabro, a company that seems to be exclusively releasing Randall product these days, presents THE GIRL IN ROOM 2A in an occasionally beat-up but generally nice-looking transfer that the packaging lists as 1.66:1, but is actually 1.78:1.  Extras include a short interview with Giordano, where she dispels the longstanding rumor that William Rose was a pseudonym for Ramiro Oliveros, a Spanish actor who often gets credited in print and online with directing this film, plus some cast/crew info, and a lurid trailer for the film's 1975 US release ("Kidnapped!  Enslaved!  She became a sexual plaything in a strange, sadistic ritual!"). (Unrated, 85 mins).

In Theaters: RAMPART (2011)

RAMPART
(US - 2011)

Directed by Oren Moverman.  Written by James Ellroy and Oren Moverman.  Cast: Woody Harrelson, Robin Wright, Steve Buscemi, Sigourney Weaver, Ben Foster, Ice Cube, Ned Beatty, Anne Heche, Cynthia Nixon, Brie Larson, Audra McDonald, Jon Bernthal, Jon Foster, Francis Capra, Robert Wisdom.  (R, 108 mins)

Oren Moverman's follow-up to his acclaimed 2009 film THE MESSENGER unfortunately falls into the "sophomore slump" category, despite a raw, riveting performance from Woody Harrelson.  The problem with RAMPART is that Harrelson's performance is all it has, and as great as it is, it can't carry the whole film, which plays like you're fast-forwarding through a season of THE SHIELD.  Dealing with the corrupt escapades of a bitter, racist, sexist, homophobic, misanthropic, hard-drinking, chain-smoking, womanizing, control-freak (did I miss anything?) LAPD cop in post-Rampart Scandal 1999, RAMPART begs the question:  Why this story?  Why now?  Why?  Don't look for answers.  There are none, and aside from Harrelson's searing portrayal, RAMPART is an almost total misfire.

Badass cop "Date Rape" Dave Brown (Harrelson), so nicknamed for a 1997 incident when he committed the premeditated murder of a known serial date-rapist (yet Internal Affairs doesn't have enough to charge him) is every bad image you can conjure of the LAPD (see above).  A bit of a celebrity with other cops, Dave's personal life is strange, to say the least.  His two ex-wives (Anne Heche, Cynthia Nixon) are sisters who live next door to each other, and Dave lives in a bungalow in one of the backyards.  Each ex has a daughter by him, so the half-sisters are also first cousins.  When he can't get some casual sex from either ex, he picks women up at bars.  Still hounded by the date-rapist incident on a daily basis, Dave finds himself in a media shitstorm when he's videotaped beating a black man who plowed into his squad car and tried to run away.  Faced with mounting pressure from the department, the D.A.'s office, and his own lawyers, cash-strapped Dave gets a tip and tries to bust up an illegal card game and take the loot for himself, but he ends up killing a man and planting a gun on him.  Then things really start to go bad.

Harrelson is one of the best actors working today and rarely gets to show it, and RAMPART is up there with THE PEOPLE VS. LARRY FLYNT and THE MESSENGER as possibly his finest work yet.  But the film is a rambling, unfocused, episodic mess.  I know it's all about the character, and there's some semblance of a story with the caught-on-camera beating, the planting of the gun, and his dysfunctional hook-up with a boozy attorney (Robin Wright), but RAMPART feels less like a cohesive film and more like blatant Woody Harrelson Oscar bait (the film, a prestige acquisition by Cannon cover band Millennium Films, was released briefly in NYC and L.A. in November 2011 to qualify for awards season, and only started expanding in limited release last month).  Harrelson is supported a truly impressive cast of big names and familiar character actors in cameos that prove to be more of a distraction than anything.  There's no opening credits, so the actors just appear, let Harrelson bounce off of them, then, in most cases, disappear.  Wright, Heche, and Nixon probably get the most screen time of the supporting cast, and there's also Sigourney Weaver as an LAPD attorney; Steve Buscemi as the ambitious D.A.; Ned Beatty as a retired cop with a mysterious agenda who keeps telling Dave that "forces are conspiring" against him (perhaps the most frustrating of RAMPART's several abandoned storylines, though we are granted the rare sight of Ned Beatty smoking a joint); Ice Cube as an Internal Affairs investigator; Ben Foster as a brain-damaged homeless guy; and THE WALKING DEAD's Jon Bernthal as a cop.  Brie Larson does some nice work as Harrelson's gay, angry teenage daughter with Nixon.

Moverman co-wrote the script with legendary crime and noir novelist James Ellroy, and a lot of the dialogue crackles with Ellroy's distinct, gloriously offensive prose.  But the story is just flimsy, slapdash, and ultimately pointless. However, between the disjointed storytelling, the abandoned plot points, the underwritten characters not named Dave Brown, and several stills online from scenes that aren't in the actual film, there's enough evidence to suggest that RAMPART was chainsawed in post-production and this is possibly a compromise version.  Still, Moverman resorts to some bizarre showboating directorial techniques to cover up that central void, whether it's an attention-seeking continuous pan around a desk during a meeting at the D.A.'s office, or some of the most distracting foot fetishizing this side of a Quentin Tarantino movie, or, in the film's worst sequence, a drug-fueled detour into a garish, strobe-lit sex club that seems like Moverman called in sick and asked Gaspar Noe to direct for a day. Woody Harrelson has matured into a great actor and this is an undeniably great performance.   But that performance needs some kind of foundation to give it structure and meaning, and as brilliant as Harrelson is, he isn't enough to keep RAMPART from looking like exactly what it is, at least in its released version:  a blatantly transparent attempt to get Woody Harrelson an Academy Award.

In Theaters: SILENT HOUSE (2012)

SILENT HOUSE
(US/France - 2012)

Directed by Chris Kentis & Laura Lau.  Written by Laura Lau.  Cast: Elizabeth Olsen, Adam Trese, Eric Sheffer Stevens, Julia Taylor Ross. (R, 85 mins)


Husband & wife directing team Chris Kentis and Laura Lau are no stranger to gimmicky thrills and chills:  Kentis directed and Lau photographed the 2004 actors-in-the-water-with-real-sharks indie hit OPEN WATER.  Both have been off the radar until resurfacing with this remake of Gustavo Hernandez's 2010 Uruguayan thriller LA CASA MUDA.  CASA's gimmick, replicated by SILENT HOUSE, is that it's allegedly shot in real time, in one continuous take.  I haven't seen the Hernandez film so I can't judge, but I'm not buying that claim with Kentis & Lau's film.  Oh, it's a solidly-constructed illusion of a continuous take, but there's plenty of dark shots and other pieces of set decor that can easily obscure a seamless edit.  Plus, if you stick around for the closing credits, the long list of "Additional photography" credits sorta blow the "one continuous take" claim to hell.  There's a few instances where it's used effectively, but the illusion doesn't really add much to the film, which wouldn't have been very different if the cuts were visibly apparent.

The simple set-up has early 20-ish Sarah (Elizabeth Olsen) cleaning out a dilapidated, mold-infested family vacation home with her dad John (Adam Trese), and her uncle Peter (Eric Sheffer Stevens).  Located far off the beaten path, the house has become a haven for squatters, so Peter resorted to having the windows boarded up from the inside, which doesn't allow for any light to get into the house.  This becomes an issue when Peter runs to town for supplies, John goes upstairs and disappears, and Sarah starts hearing thuds, bangs, heavy footsteps, and finally finds herself practically face-to-face with an intruder who's hiding in the house.

(Possible SPOILERS from here on)

That sounds like a can't-miss deal, but--and again, I'm only judging the remake, but I'm aware of some changes from the Uruguayan original--Kentis & Lau find ways.  Obviously, because it's a modern horror film, we know there will be a big plot twist by the end.  Kentis & Lau bungle this by telegraphing the twists and turns entirely too early in the story.  Before the mayhem starts, Sarah is visited by Sophia (Julia Taylor Ross), who's happy to see her since, she claims, they were playmates as kids.  Sarah initially doesn't remember her, but after Sophia mentions stopping by later with some pictures of them playing dress-up, Sarah starts to have a vague recollection.  There's another early bit where Uncle Peter stops to regard Sarah in a way that lingers longer than seems normal, and he finally says "I can't believe how grown-up you are."  And both John and Peter encounter scattered Polaroids that make them nervously skittish as they stash them down their pants.  Now sure, some of us see more movies than others, but without even seeing LA CASA MUDA and deliberately avoiding spoilers, I figured the whole thing out 20 minutes in, and anyone paying any attention to this at all can see where it's going even if you haven't seen the relatively recent HIGH TENSION or, to cite another cribbed source, Roman Polanski's REPULSION, a film that unravelled in a much similar fashion and still seems fresher than this despite being 47 years old and minus the central gimmick.  I'm curious to see Hernandez's original film, just to see if it showed its cards that early or if Kentis & Lau, who I'm guessing are terrible poker players, dumbed it down for American audiences.

That's not to say it's a total washout.  The scene with Sarah using the flash of an instant camera as a light source is a high point, and belongs in a better movie. Olsen is very good and maintains a believable near-hysteria throughout without ever going overboard.  The younger sister of Mary-Kate & Ashley Olsen, she was pegged a star-in-the-making after last year's indie breakthrough MARTHA MARCY MAY MARLENE, and she does a solid job here.  But there's only so much she can do with a script that simply gives away too much too soon, hoping that the "Real Fear...in Real Time!" conceit will carry it through to the end.  It doesn't.  Olsen's clearly going on to bigger and better things, and one day, SILENT HOUSE will likely be little more than the forgettable B-horror flick that so many accomplished actors have near or at the bottom of the IMDb pages.

Streaming on Netflix: ATLAS SHRUGGED: PART ONE (2011)

ATLAS SHRUGGED: PART ONE
(US - 2011)

Directed by Paul Johansson.  Written by John Aglialoro and Brian Patrick O'Toole.  Cast: Taylor Schilling, Grant Bowler, Matthew Marsden, Michael Lerner, Jon Polito, Graham Beckel, Patrick Fischler, Jsu Garcia, Paul Johansson, Michael O'Keefe, Armin Shimerman, Neill Barry, Edi Gathegi, Annabelle Gurwitch, Christina Pickles.  (PG-13, 97 mins)

How much you get out of this adaptation of 1/3 of Ayn Rand's mammoth 1957 novel obviously depends on how much you buy into Rand's ideas.  But political and philosophical differences aside, ATLAS SHRUGGED: PART ONE is anti-entertainment of the highest degree: a pompous, boring, lecturing textbook barely come to life. This is a film that glorifies the moral right to an unregulated, laissez faire free market while condeming government intrusion, taxation, unions, altruism, and finally, the common worker--metal magnate Hank Reardon (Grant Bowler) barely tolerates what he calls "the miserable children trying to stay alive desperately and very badly."  And he's the hero!

I'm sure observing a theatrical showing of this in the presence of harumphing one-percenters might've made for an interesting sociological study because what's onscreen isn't interesting at all.  Unlike Rand's novel, the film is set in the future of 2016, where gasoline is $37.50/gallon and oil shortages have made rail travel the most affordable mode of transport.  Railroad heiress Dagny Taggart (Taylor Schilling) allies herself with Reardon to create a new rail line using Reardon's newly-patented metal, which he claims can last 100 years without needing repair.  This kind of durability scares the politicians and the palm-greasers in Washington, who set out to abolish Reardon's metal and forbid him from having a monopoly on the industry.  Meanwhile, CEOs and captains of industry are disappearing at an alarming rate after meeting a trenchcoated figure named John Galt (played by director Paul Johansson).

Grant Bowler and Taylor Schilling in a thrilling action scene from ATLAS SHRUGGED: PART ONE

Long considered unfilmable--a theory concretely proven by Johansson--ATLAS SHRUGGED was attempted to be made into a film as far back as 1972 when THE GODFATHER producer Albert S. Ruddy tried to get it off the ground.  In the ensuing years and decades, numerous different producers and studios tried to get the ball rolling on an ATLAS SHRUGGED film adaptation or TV miniseries.  In recent years, A-listers like Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie, Charlize Theron, Julia Roberts, and Anne Hathaway were said to be attached to the project at various points, but by the time it got made, and faster than you can cue the PRICE IS RIGHT losing horn, we ended up with Taylor Schilling, Grant Bowler, and Paul Johansson.  Given the book's embracing by the Tea Party and Libertarian crowds in recent years, it's no surprise that top-tier "Hollywood liberals" wouldn't want to be seen anywhere near it, which explains why you end up with a cast that would've fit right in with LEFT BEHIND or THE OMEGA CODE or one of Christian auteur Alex Kendrick's recent grassroots hits like FIREPROOF or COURAGEOUS.  Like those films, ATLAS SHRUGGED: PART ONE is preaching hard to the already-converted, so things like script and acting don't really matter.  The performances are daytime soap-level at best, and the writing suffocatingly heavy-handed.  Everything is a proselytizing proclamation that's just throwing red meat to the audience.  Films like this don't have to try, because they don't have to be good.  That's why you can get paycheck character actors like Armin "Quark from STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE" Shimerman, Jsu "I used to be known as Nick Corri when I was in A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET" Garcia, and Michael "Nobody gives a shit about Danny Noonan's storyline in CADDYSHACK" O'Keefe onboard.  It is disheartening to see Coen Bros. vets Jon Polito and Michael Lerner (a Supporting Actor Oscar nominee for BARTON FINK) schlepping their way through this, but I guess you go where the work is.

Michael Lerner in his Oscar-nominated role in 1991's BARTON FINK, just one of many films you could watch instead of ATLAS SHRUGGED: PART ONE

The best thing that can be said about ATLAS SHRUGGED: PART ONE is that it looks nice with its plethora of sleek, cold office interiors in various buildings.  Otherwise, it's a total snooze, with endless babbling about metals and alloys and blah blah blah.  It's not even a personal political stance that keeps me from accepting ATLAS SHRUGGED on its own terms.  I've enjoyed plenty of films with differing political, personal, or philosophical views than my own.   I don't agree with a lot (well, any) of the concepts this film endorses, but I agree even less with bad filmmaking, bad writing, and bad acting.  Can you at least make the damn thing the slightest bit entertaining? 

PART ONE, budgeted at $20 million, took in less than $5 million at the box office, which seemed to effectively kill any chances for the second and third installments being made.  But producers claim PART TWO is underway and they hope to have it out in late 2012.  Just in time to qualify for the Oscars, I'm sure.

Cult Classics Revisited: THUNDERBOLT AND LIGHTFOOT (1974)

THUNDERBOLT AND LIGHTFOOT
(US - 1974)

Written and directed by Michael Cimino.  Cast: Clint Eastwood, Jeff Bridges, George Kennedy, Geoffrey Lewis, Catherine Bach, Bill McKinney, Gary Busey, Vic Tayback, Burton Gilliam, Dub Taylor, Gregory Walcott, Roy Jenson. (R, 115 mins)


Even before film critics and historians finally took him seriously after 1992's UNFORGIVEN, Clint Eastwood consistently took chances to show his versatility with offbeat departures and was always more than Dirty Harry and The Man with No Name.  Films like THE BEGUILED, PLAY MISTY FOR ME (both 1971), and BREEZY (1973), the latter directed by but not starring Eastwood, were atypical projects and the same can be said for 1974's character-driven road/buddy movie THUNDERBOLT AND LIGHTFOOT.  The film was a fairly big hit at the time (grossing $25 million, which is around $150 million in 2012 dollars), even though Eastwood reportedly wasn't happy with United Artists' handling of it, nor with the fact that co-star Jeff Bridges got all the attention as well as a Best Supporting Actor Oscar nomination (he lost to THE GODFATHER PART II's Robert De Niro).  This was probably one of the earliest instances that led to Eastwood's tendency to control and backseat-drive the films he wasn't actually credited with directing.  He fired Philip Kaufman a few days into shooting THE OUTLAW JOSEY WALES and took over directing it himself (leading to the DGA's "Eastwood Rule," which essentially forbids a producer, cast, or crew member of a movie from stepping in for a fired director), then notably clashed with mentor Don Siegel on 1979's ESCAPE FROM ALCATRAZ, and relieved director Richard Tuggle of his duties early into shooting 1984's TIGHTROPE, taking over directing but reportedly keeping Tuggle on the set in order to appease the DGA (and does anyone really believe Buddy Van Horn was calling the shots on any of those 1980s Eastwood movies he's credited with directing?).  Eastwood's director on THUNDERBOLT AND LIGHTFOOT was a debuting Michael Cimino, who co-wrote the 1973 DIRTY HARRY sequel MAGNUM FORCE.  Cimino went on to become the toast of Hollywood with 1978's THE DEER HUNTER before almost immediately morphing into an industry pariah with 1980's HEAVEN'S GATE.  Eastwood would get annoyed if Cimino wanted more than three takes, but he seemed to generally stay out of the first-time director's way.  With the exception of 1993's IN THE LINE OF FIRE, directed by Wolfgang Petersen and the only time in the last 40 years that Eastwood was just an actor-for-hire in a film he didn't produce, THUNDERBOLT AND LIGHTFOOT is likely one of the last times he extended that courtesy to someone directing him.

Eastwood is Thunderbolt, a career thief and fugitive who's found by some vengeful cohorts who think he made off with the loot of a previous heist, when in fact, the place where he stashed the money was demolished, and Thunderbolt was never able to recover the money. While fleeing, he's picked up by amiable drifter Lightfoot (Bridges), who's in a Trans-Am that he just stole from used-car dealership.  The two become fast friends, and when two of Thunderbolt's associates--hot-tempered Red Leary (George Kennedy) and dumb Eddie Goody (Geoffrey Lewis)--catch up with them, it's Lightfoot who hatches the plan that they all rob the same place again.

Eastwood and Bridges make a great team, and Cimino's script has a good amount of humor, especially when Kennedy and Lewis turn up later on.  It's not just Bridges who makes a huge impression--a low-key Eastwood manages to be upstaged by all three of his co-stars (Kennedy is hilarious when he tells an obnoxious brat "Look, kid...go fuck a duck").   The tone gets much more serious after the heist, leading to a downbeat, heartbreaking finale that would likely be changed if it were made today.  The film benefits from a lot of eccentric touches and recognizable character actors, like Bill McKinney as a crazy driver with a raccoon in the front seat and a trunk filled with rabbits, Dub Taylor as a cranky gas station attendant, and the sight of Kennedy and Lewis squeezed into a tiny ice cream truck.  I also like the way Thunderbolt and Lightfoot steal the car of a vacationing older couple and spend the rest of the film wearing the man's loud, garish old-guy shirts.

When THUNDERBOLT AND LIGHTFOOT was released, critics praised Cimino's work as a writer and director and Cimino has often said that he wouldn't have a career without Eastwood's help.  TV airings throughout the 1980s continued to find the film new fans, but it's rarely mentioned today with Eastwood's best work.  It's in semi-regular rotation on MGM HD, but it doesn't turn up as part of any Eastwood marathons on TCM or AMC.  It was issued on DVD years ago, but is now inexplicably out of print and going for exorbitant amounts online.  I'd love to see this given the deluxe Criterion treatment--it's certainly worthy, both as an essential classic of the 1970s and proof that even then, Eastwood was a better actor than dismissive critics of the 1970s were crediting him.  And there was no doubt that a young Jeff Bridges, who already had THE LAST PICTURE SHOW, BAD COMPANY, and THE ICEMAN COMETH under his belt, was going on to great things.  Cimino never really did recover from the HEAVEN'S GATE debacle, and was fired from both FOOTLOOSE and THE POPE OF GREENWICH VILLAGE before finally returning with 1985's flawed-but-intermittently-great YEAR OF THE DRAGON.  Cimino, now 73, hasn't directed a feature film since 1996's barely-released SUNCHASER.  THUNDERBOLT AND LIGHTFOOT and THE DEER HUNTER both stand as brilliant intros to a potentially great career derailed by hype, hubris, self-indulgence, and bad press, though HEAVEN'S GATE's reputation has somewhat improved in the ensuing 32 years since it bankrupted United Artists.  There's really not much point in defending 1987's dreadful THE SICILIAN or his absurd 1990 remake of the Bogart classic DESPERATE HOURS, and I haven't seen SUNCHASER.  Cimino's place in film history is cemented, but primarily for the wrong reasons.  His flops and fiascos may outnumber his successes, but it's hard to argue with successes like THUNDERBOLT AND LIGHTFOOT and THE DEER HUNTER.  Perhaps it's time to reconsider Michael Cimino. Or at least give him a shot at making another film.