In Theaters/On VOD: 4:44: LAST DAY ON EARTH (2012)

4:44: LAST DAY ON EARTH
(Chile/France/US - 2012)

Written and directed by Abel Ferrara.  Cast: Willem Dafoe, Shanyn Leigh, Paul Hipp, Natasha Lyonne, Anita Pallenberg, Paz de la Huerta.  (Unrated, 82 mins).

Whether it's the doomy prophecies of the 2012 Mayan calendar or just societal unease and malaise in general, the apocalypse film has definitely made a comeback.  Sure, we've seen a zombie horror resurgence in the last decade, but I'm talking "serious" examination of the end of the world.  In the last year, we've had ANOTHER EARTH and TAKE SHELTER touching on these themes in their own unique ways.  Lars von Trier's brilliant MELANCHOLIA dealt with the subject in a more direct fashion, and this summer, it gets a more comedic (?) take with the Steve Carell/Keira Knightley-starring SEEKING A FRIEND FOR THE END OF THE WORLD.  But now, legendary NYC-based indie wildman Abel Ferrara brings us his own vision of the world's end and it mostly looks like an Abel Ferrara home movie.  That is, when it doesn't look like an end-of-semester visual essay by the most annoying person in your Digital Multimedia class.  Ferrara has long been one of the most visceral, exciting voices in independent cinema.  Films like MS. 45, FEAR CITY, KING OF NEW YORK, BAD LIEUTENANT, and THE FUNERAL to name just a few, have forever cemented his significance to indie and cult cinema (and I even like DANGEROUS GAME!).  He's mainly been doing documentaries in recent years, like the sincere but rambling CHELSEA ON THE ROCKS.  His 2007 film GO-GO TALES got great word-of-mouth overseas but has yet to be really be seen in the US outside of festival showings.  Is there some reason GO-GO TALES still hasn't been released on DVD here?

But back to 4:44: LAST DAY ON EARTH.  The depletion of the ozone layer has happened faster than experts anticipated, and the world is set to end at 4:44 am the next morning.  We don't know how long this has been known, but the characters in the film seem to have already accepted it.  Most of the film takes place in the Lower East Side loft of bohemian couple Cisco (Willem Dafoe) and Skye (Ferrara's longtime girlfriend Shanyn Leigh).  After an oddly tightly-shot sex scene where we get a close up shot of Leigh running her fingers through Dafoe's pubes, Skye smears paint on a canvas and listens to a Buddhist monk on TV while Cisco talks to a friend on the phone, journals, Skypes with another buddy having a jam session, dances a little, watches old footage of Al Gore being interviewed by Charlie Rose, walks out on the roof of his building to see a guy at a nearby building jump off the fire escape.  Cisco and Skye's loft is the kind of place where a nice HDTV sits on a milk crate (I wouldn't be surprised if this is actually Ferrara's and Leigh's residence).  They have Chinese takeout delivered and let the delivery guy Skype with his family back home in an undeniably poignant scene which nevertheless brings up one important question:  the world's got about eight hours left and you show up for work?

Cisco gets in touch with his teenage daughter, and their Skype chat is interrupted by his still-angry ex, and when Skye finds them talking, they have a huge fight and recovering addict Cisco goes to visit an old buddy Noah (Paul Hipp) in the hopes of scoring some heroin.  Cisco's two years clean, and Noah talks him out of it.  Cisco gets some anyway, and tries to shoot up back at home but Skye catches him.  They reconcile, Skye paints some more, Cisco walks outside to see strange green clouds swirling through the sky, the power goes out, they make love one last time ("Come inside me," Skye whispers).  As they hold each other, Ferrara cuts to stock news footage seemingly edited together at random, and as Cisco and Skye hold each other, the screen fades to white at 4:44 am.

KING OF NEW YORK, it's not.

Ferrara likes doing projects with these edgy, off-the-cuff, in-the-moment kinds of intense scenes with actors.  It's likely why his dalliances with major studios (like his unsuccessful but not-without-interest 1993 version of BODY SNATCHERS for Warner Bros) never led to anything.  Ferrara's not a studio guy, and that's great.  But he's the kind of filmmaker who has difficulty staying focused if left too much on his own.  His best films, like the ones I mentioned earlier, have that distinct Ferrara feel but they're complete stories.  4:44: LAST DAY ON EARTH represents a Ferrara making it up as it goes along and letting the chips fall where they may.  It's a thoroughly self-indulgent film that feels like it exists because he wanted to put his significant other in a starring role.  Leigh is a terrible actress, and there may not be a more unintentionally funnier scene in 2012 than her batshit meltdown at finding Cisco Skyping with his ex.  It's the kind of hilarious scene that becomes a viral sensation once it hits YouTube.  Dafoe is OK here, I suppose.  He's worked with Ferrara several times (including GO-GO TALES and the 1999 misfire NEW ROSE HOTEL, which is probably Ferrara's worst film) and, despite his Hollywood notoriety, Dafoe is one of those bohemian types who probably feels more at home in risk-taking, far-from-the-mainstream fare like this and Lars von Trier's controversial ANTICHRIST, but I'm starting to think he does these kinds of edgy arthouse projects because they give him a chance to get naked onscreen with much younger women, like Asia Argento in NEW ROSE HOTEL and Charlotte Gainsbourg in ANTICHRIST.  Sure, that SPIDER-MAN and JOHN CARTER money is nice, but an actor has other needs.

You know, with all the TVs, monitors, laptops, and tablets displaying various media in Cisco & Skye's loft (and honestly, didn't you groan a little when you read the names "Cisco" and "Skye"?), it's too bad none of these devices was Netflix streaming Don McKellar's 1998 Canadian film LAST NIGHT, which seems to be the main inspiration for this new trend of character-driven apocalypse cinema, but no one seems eager to admit it.  LAST NIGHT is a great underseen film that was probably inspired more by the now-laughable, pants-shitting paranoia of pre-Y2K, but it still holds up today, with a final scene that gets me every time.  With 4:44: LAST DAY ON EARTH, it's great to see that Ferrara can once again get a film distributed in the US, but I just wish he had something to say.

Streaming on Netflix.  Watch this film.

The Cannon Files: ASSASSINATION (1987) and MESSENGER OF DEATH (1988)

ASSASSINATION
(US - 1987)

Watchable but mostly forgettable Charles Bronson outing was a PG-13 change-of-pace for the actor and gave him a chance to work with wife and frequent co-star Jill Ireland one last time. Ireland was offscreen since 1982's DEATH WISH II and had been battling breast cancer since 1984. She was in good health again by the time of ASSASSINATION, and only appeared in one more film (a small role in the barely-released, Billy Graham-financed 1987 religious drama CAUGHT), before her cancer returned and she died in 1990.

Bronson is veteran Secret Service agent Jay Killian, assigned to protect incoming First Lady Lara Craig (Ireland), codenamed "One Mama." One Mama proves to be a bit of a feisty bitch, and doesn't feel like listening to Killian even when it becomes clear that someone is trying to kill her. But why? Killian and One Mama end up spending the second half of the film on the run cross-country, stopping to buy motorcycles in Kokomo, IN, an area that's curiously filled with palm trees and mountains on the horizon (there's also some visible palm trees in a few DC shots), as they try to evade a team of assassins working for someone who ranks high in the government.

ASSASSINATION is a very plodding, slowly-paced film that feels much longer than its brief 88 minutes. My dad and I saw this when it opened in January 1987 and I recall both of us being disappointed. I hadn't seen it all the way through since then, and remembered almost nothing about it other than the terrible rug worn by Michael Ansara, playing a senator. ASSASSINATION looks and feels like a bland TV-movie.  Bronson gives it some life in his scenes with Ireland. No one ever accused Ireland of being a great actress, but Bronson loved her more than anything and he was clearly in good spirits being able to work with her. And Ireland has one legitimately hilarious bit where she's trying to dodge Bronson and disguises herself in a black wig and dances down the street. I think you can actually see her trying not to laugh. There's more (intentional) humor than usual here, especially with Bronson being aggressively pursued by his much younger partner Jan Gan Boyd, but it just never gets rolling despite a capable action director in ON HER MAJESTY'S SECRET SERVICE's Peter Hunt, who previously directed Bronson in 1981's DEATH HUNT. Also with Stephen Elliott as Bronson's boss (who gets a "No way that would fly today" throwaway line where he refers to the Asian-American Boyd as "Charlie Chan"), William Prince, Erik Stern, Peter Lupus, Frank Zagarino, and, in the film's oddest casting, Billy Hayes as one of the hired killers. Yeah...the subject of MIDNIGHT EXPRESS. THAT Billy Hayes. Harmless and not awful by any means, but probably the weakest film from the Cannon/Golan-Globus era of Bronson's career, despite some promising elements that just never quite come together.  (PG-13, 88 mins)


MESSENGER OF DEATH
(US - 1988)

Charles Bronson's penultimate '80s Cannon outing is a mostly low-key mystery and another attempt by the actor to try something different.  Bronson is crusading Denver newspaper reporter Garrett Smith, who finds himself in the middle of a war between two feuding Mormon brothers (Jeff Corey, John Ireland), but it's really all part of a nefarious water company's plot to gain access to an artesian well on Ireland's property. MESSENGER OF DEATH ambles along and is rather slowly-paced and predictable (never trust a prominently-billed, recognizable actor who doesn't have much to do with the plot), but Bronson makes it enjoyable entertainment.

The star had remained busy throughout the decade (teaming up once again with his favorite '80s director J. Lee Thompson) but as the '80s came to a close, his films became less popular, especially in the wake of big-budget hits like LETHAL WEAPON and DIE HARD. Even an established icon like Clint Eastwood was losing his audience during this period and he was a decade younger than Bronson. Action movies had suddenly changed.  They got bigger and they got louder, and by the latter part of 1988, younger audiences weren't really interested in films with 67-year-old Bronson directed by a 74-year-old Thompson, just as older folks who might like a cozy Bronson mystery were likely turned off by all the violence and sleaze in most of his films. The R-rated MESSENGER tones much of that down (not as much as 1987's PG-13-rated ASSASSINATION), with a few bits of gunshot splatter and an occasional "bastard" and "son-of-a-bitch" and one late F-bomb from the bad guy, and feels a lot like the TV movies Bronson would do in the '90s that would represent his final work before he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's.  Bronson only fires a gun once in MESSENGER, and it's at an empty casket so he can prove no one's inside of it (I don't know why he couldn't just, you know, open it). All that, plus a cast filled with aging character actors (Corey, Ireland), and familiar TV faces (Laurence Luckinbill, Marilyn Hassett, Charles Dierkop, Don Kennedy, plus Daniel Benzali, Bronson's now-clothed 10 TO MIDNIGHT co-star Gene Davis, and a completely underutilized Trish Van Devere), meant that there wasn't much of a chance for MESSENGER OF DEATH in theaters, and it died a quick death. Bronson and Thompson had the much more typically trashy "vigilante cop vs. scumbag pimp" underage prostitution thriller KINJITE: FORBIDDEN SUBJECTS out in theaters five months later and when it fared just as poorly, Bronson was effectively done in theatrical features except for a small character role in Sean Penn's THE INDIAN RUNNER (1991) and a one-shot return to his vigilante schtick in 1994's DEATH WISH V: THE FACE OF DEATH.

MESSENGER OF DEATH is hardly top-drawer Bronson, but looking it again 23 years later (I haven't seen it since renting the VHS when it came out) and far removed from the "Bronson just makes the same tired movie over and over again" criticisms, it's not all that bad. Slight and forgettable, yes...but even in B fare like this, Bronson was still The Man.  (R, 91 mins)

On DVD/Blu-ray: Special "Abrupt Endings" Edition: CARNAGE (2011); MARTHA MARCY MAY MARLENE (2011)

CARNAGE
(France/Germany/Poland/Spain - 2011)

Roman Polanski's film version of Yasmina Reza's play Le Dieu du Carnage (adapted by Polanski and Reza) has four top-notch actors and is quite good for the bulk of its short running time.  Set in NYC but shot in Paris, CARNAGE has two married couples--the Longstreets (Jodie Foster as Penelope, John C. Reilly as Michael) and the Cowans (Kate Winslet as Nancy, Christoph Waltz as Peter)--trying to hash out a playground incident where the Cowans' son Zachary attacked the Longstreets' son Ethan.  The meeting, at the Longstreets' apartment, is initially pleasant, diplomatic, and conciliatory, but begins falling apart with each passing moment, comment, and perceived slight, be it Peter's constantly-vibrating phone, the way he snorts when he laughs, Nancy's outrage over the way Michael heartlessly discarded his daughter's hamster, Penelope's passive-aggressive snipping, Nancy incredulously questioning Penelope's decision to make a combination apple/pear cobbler, Nancy vomiting all over some of Penelope's rare books and Penelope insisting it couldn't have been the cobbler that made her ill, etc.  Words are parsed, alliances form and shift, and the Longstreets' apartment becomes a steel cage of resentments, insecurities, and pent-up rage.  And for a while, it's mean-spiritedly funny and a fine addition to the cinema of awkward discomfort.  That is, until Michael breaks out the scotch.  The four quickly get drunk, and I never thought actors as accomplished as Winslet, Reilly, and Foster could play drunk so badly. Waltz just acts more relaxed, but the other three actors seem to be in a contest to see who can most play to the back row.  Foster, in particular, is embarrassingly bad in the last portion of the film. Polanski does a great job of making a single-set play come off as cinematic, with fluid camera movement that ensures the film never feels stagy despite staying in the confines of the Longstreets' apartment (there are occasional trips down the hallway to the elevator--keep your eyes peeled for a Polanski cameo--but the Cowans keep getting pulled back into the apartment EXTERMINATING ANGEL-style), but it just gets increasingly shrill, pompous, and overacted as it reaches its abrupt conclusion.  In the end, it's ultimately minor Polanski.  (R, 80 mins)


MARTHA MARCY MAY MARLENE
(US - 2011)

An unsettling and deeply disturbing drama anchored by a star-making performance from Elizabeth Olsen, younger sister of the Olsen Twins and currently in the horror film SILENT HOUSE.  MARTHA MARCY MAY MARLENE generated a lot of buzz at Sundance in 2011 and rightly so.  When we first see Olsen, she's known as Marcy May and is escaping a farmhouse compound in the Catskills where she belonged to an abusive cult led by the sinister Patrick (John Hawkes).  She manages to get to a diner, where cult member Watts (Brady Corbet) finds her and tries to lure her back, but without success.  Marcy May, whose real name is Martha, calls her sister Lucy (Sarah Paulson), who drives three hours to pick her up.  Having been gone for two years, Martha is evasive about where she's been, only saying that she had a boyfriend in the Catskills.  As she tries to adjust to life with Lucy and her new husband Tom (Hugh Dancy), writer/director Sean Durkin cuts back and forth between the present and the past to show what happened to Martha during her time brainwashed as "Marcy May."  Durkin leaves a lot open for interpretation and debate, with often vague dialogue that implies much more (when holding one of Patrick's many babies by his female cult members, a new recruit asks why the infants are all boys, and Marcy May replies "He only has boys") and while many groused that the ending was anticlimactic, I found it ambiguously terrifying.  I think a lot of comparisons could be drawn between this and WINTER'S BONE--and not just because Hawkes is in both films--but I had a difficult time connecting with WINTER'S BONE and found it disappointing and overrated.  MARTHA MARCY MAY MARLENE, on the other hand, really gets under your skin and leaves you shaken by the end.  Durkin's surehanded direction (the back-and-forth time element is handled extremely well) and Olsen's powerful performance help make this dark, haunting film memorable.  I wasn't really wowed by SILENT HOUSE, but Olsen was terrific in it, and coupled with her breakthrough role here, this is clearly an actress to watch in the future.  (R, 102 mins)

In Theaters: 21 JUMP STREET (2012)

21 JUMP STREET
(US - 2012)

Directed by Phil Lord & Christopher Miller.  Written by Michael Bacall.  Cast:  Jonah Hill, Channing Tatum, Ice Cube, Brie Larson, Dave Franco, Rob Riggle, DeRay Davis, Ellie Kemper, Chris Parnell, Lindsay Broad, Dax Flame, Nick Offerman, Holly Robinson-Peete.  (R, 109 mins)

Sporting a one-sheet with one of the more risque tag lines in recent memory, this film version of the 1987-1991 TV series doesn't try to replicate its source material and instead goes strictly for laughs, and as initial reviews indicated, it's surprisingly entertaining.  After screwing up their first arrest, hapless cops Schmidt (Jonah Hill) and Jenko (Channing Tatum), enemies in high school in 2005 but best buds in 2012 at the police academy, get chewed out by their captain (Nick Offerman), who busts them down to 21 Jump Street.  The captain describes it as an undercover unit they tried out in the 1980s, but it's being resurrected now since no one can come up with any good ideas anymore.  That's the first of many amusing self-critiquing jabs 21 JUMP STREET takes at itself.  Now undercover as sibling high school students, and constantly being questioned about why they look almost 30, Schmidt and Jenko are ordered by Jump Street's constantly angry, always-yelling boss Capt Dickson (Ice Cube) to find the supplier of the new synthetic drug HFS (short for "Holy Fucking Shit") that's being distributed through the high school.  Dickson is feeling the heat after a rich kid named Billiam Willingham (Johnny Simmons) OD's on HFS, and tells the undercover duo, "This kid's white, so people actually give a shit."

Jenko and Schmidt in high school

And undercover seven years later

Capt. Dickson doing what he does best: yelling.

When 21 JUMP STREET sticks to smartly-conceived self-referential jokes and "He said what?" moments like Dickson's line about Billiam Willingham, it's often hysterically funny.  Another great bit is Jenko's John Woo-esque insistence that "everything looks cooler with doves," so you know there will be a shot with the two of them walking in slo-mo, surrounded by flying doves.  But the joke is that Schmidt is releasing the doves himself while they walk.  There's also an interesting running commentary about dumb jock Jenko's utter disbelief that his type no longer rules the school, and that past outcasts like environmentalists, vegans, hipsters, and anime kids are now the in-crowd ("I blame this on GLEE!" he pouts).  It's that kind of humor for a good chunk of the film, but as often happens in situations like this, the film eventually becomes the very thing it's lampooning, with car chases and shootouts, and I guess that's to be expected.  But the first half or even 2/3 of the film has an edge that the back end lacks, especially with a tired subplot about geeky Schmidt finally being accepted by the cool crowd and, of course, forgetting that he's a cop first.  Naturally, he and Jenko will have a falling out and patch things up in time to take down the bad guys.  But there's a lot of big laughs throughout, and the leads are a good team, plus there's a few cameos from the original 21 JUMP STREET crew, one in particular being one of the film's major highlights. 

Written by SCOTT PILGRIM VS. THE WORLD co-scripter Michael Bacall and directed by Phil Lord and Christopher Miller, the team behind CLOUDY WITH A CHANCE OF MEATBALLS, 21 JUMP STREET managed to get some overwhelmingly positive reviews this past weekend, and it is quite a bit better than the dismal trailer and TV ads made it look.  I wouldn't put it on the level of 2010's THE OTHER GUYS (one of the best comedies of the last several years) as far as recent cop cliche spoofs go, but it's a pleasant surprise all the same.

New on DVD: CONVERSATION PIECE (1974)

CONVERSATION PIECE
aka GRUPPO DI FAMIGLIA IN UN INTERNO
(Italy/France - 1974)

Directed by Luchino Visconti.  Written by Suso Cecchi d'Amico, Enrico Medioli, Luchino Visconti.  Cast: Burt Lancaster, Helmut Berger, Silvana Mangano, Romolo Valli,  Dominique Sanda, Claudia Cardinale, Claudia Marsani, Stefano Patrizi, Elvira Cortese, Guy Trejan, Umberto Raho, Enzo Fiermonte.  (Unrated, 121 mins)

The penultimate film by legendary Italian director Luchino Visconti (1906-1976) has been derided as one of his worst and most pretentious works for nearly 40 years.  It was shot in English, with much of the Italian supporting cast dubbed, and despite acclaim in Italy, film festival screenings abroad resulted in such bad word-of-mouth that it took three years to find a US distributor.  When then-fledgling New Line Cinema released it in the US in 1977, a year after Visconti's death (his final film, 1976's THE INNOCENT, wasn't released in the US until 1979), they released a version dubbed in Italian with English subtitles, which most agreed played a little better.  Raro USA's new DVD release only has the original English-language audio, and that was the way Visconti intended it to be shown (Raro's Blu-ray, due out in April, will have both audio options).  CONVERSATION PIECE has remained relatively obscure in comparison to Visconti classics like THE LEOPARD (1963), but its reputation has improved since its original release, and the essay in the package's accompanying booklet by film historian Mark Rappaport makes a pretty strong case for it being considered essential Visconti.

1974 Italian poster

Watching the film and with the benefit of perspective, CONVERSATION PIECE is, in hindsight,  a hauntingly personal, elegiac baring of Visconti's soul.  Visconti suffered a debilitating stroke shortly after completing 1973's LUDWIG and was partially paralyzed from then on.  CONVERSATION PIECE was his next film, and it's clearly the work of a man who knows he's facing the end, and it's all there on the screen.  Rappaport even goes so far as to write that the film itself is Visconti's Last Will and Testament.   Admittedly, it's uneven at times, the English dubbing of the supporting cast is an ill fit, and there's some pointless shoehorning of Italy's then-volatile political situation into the crucial final sequences, but, with the passage of time, and years of film students studying Visconti and others of the Italian neo-realist movement, perhaps it's easier to focus on what does work in CONVERSATION PIECE, which is most of the film.  It's not without flaws and problems, but what it gets right is too powerful to simply dismiss.

Poster for the film's 1977 US release

A retired American science professor (Burt Lancaster) lives alone in a grand, opulent Rome palazzo filled with the books, music, and art he's collected over a lifetime.  He has a maid and his only acquaintances seem to be art dealers with whom he occasionally does business, collecting "conversation piece" portraits of informal family or group gatherings.  The professor's solitary existance is disrupted by the Marchesa Bianca Brumonti (Silvana Mangano), a pushy, demanding woman of high social stature, who wants to rent the upper level of the palazzo for her daughter Lietta (Claudia Marsani) and her fiance Stefano (Stefano Patrizi).  The professor repeatedly explains that the upstairs is not for rent and that he planned on moving his library up there at some point in the future.  The Marchesa refuses to take no for an answer and before he even realizes what's going on, the Professor has signed a one-year lease for Lietta, Stefano, and a third boarder, the Marchesa's flamboyant, much-younger boy-toy and drug-dealing gigolo Konrad (Helmut Berger).  The three tenants invade the Professor's life in a variety of ways, including knocking down walls and causing a water leak, loud music at all hours, barging in unannounced, and not to mention the Professor walking in on them in a threesome (Berger and Patrizi do frontal nudity in this scene, but Visconti is careful with how he films 1973 Miss Teen Italy winner Marsani, who was only 15 at the time), but their presence gives an unexpected spark to the Professor's lonely life.  He surprises himself by bonding with Konrad, who loathes being the Marchesa's kept man and demonstrates intelligence and refined musical and literary tastes the Professor didn't think possible.  The Professor begins to lament all the lost years spent alone and is soon "adopted" by this bizarre trio as the father in their makeshift dysfunctional "family."

Deciding three's already a crowd, the Professor (Burt
Lancaster) declines an invitation from the
free-spirited Lietta (Claudia Marsani,
who's probably doubled in this shot)

Lancaster's Professor (he's never given a name) is a character cut from the same cloth as the aging prince the actor portrayed 11 years earlier for Visconti in THE LEOPARD.  Both are old men nearing the end, both filled with regret over roads not taken and societal changes they can't control, and both feel like relics in their own worlds.  But Visconti's declining health adds a different level of poignancy to CONVERSATION PIECE.   The Professor essentially is Visconti, and it's no coincidence that Konrad is played by Helmut Berger.  No one else could've played this role.  Berger became Visconti's lover and protege after working together on 1969's THE DAMNED.  So much of their reportedly rocky relationship is incorporated into CONVERSATION PIECE, and though a romantic angle is never consummated, it is mentioned when the Marchesa accuses the Professor of having designs on Konrad.  It's possible that the Professor feels a romantic desire for Konrad.  He walks into the bathroom while Konrad is showering and seems to be in no rush to leave, only excusing himself when someone knocks at the main door.  We know the Professor was married once upon a time (Claudia Cardinale plays his wife in a brief flashback), but all he says is "It didn't work."  For what reasons, we never know.  Visconti was bisexual, so perhaps the Professor is as well.

Burt Lancaster and Helmut Berger

But beyond any possible romantic scenarios, the Professor and Konrad first and foremost demonstrate a father-son relationship more than anything, which probably has parallels to Visconti and Berger's instructor-protege working relationship.  Rappaport's essay cites Berger's memoirs and other information to paint a picture of Visconti as someone who preferred a quiet evening at home and who was often frustrated with the much-younger Berger's hard-partying, stay-out-until-dawn ways, which is what happens with the Professor and Konrad.  What keeps CONVERSATION PIECE from reaching the level of Visconti masterpiece is the bizarre political tangent that gets introduced in the last part of the film, almost as if Visconti was obliged to say something simply because he came from the school of neo-realism and there was a lot of political tumult in Italy at the time.  It doesn't really gel, and in fact, it's a bit of a momentum killer.  But it's something that can be overlooked, and while CONVERSATION PIECE isn't on the level of THE LEOPARD, I think Rappaport's arguments are convincing enough to elevate it to the status of essential Visconti.  It's also a very beautiful film (the DVD is remastered, 2.35:1 anamorphic), taking place almost entirely inside the Professor's stunningly-decorated, colorful palazzo, a DePaolis interior that looks like it could've been (and probably was) used for several gialli of the period.  And while bleak and mournful most of the way, it also has a lot of dark humor, be it an occasional bit of inspired overacting from Berger or the three tenants giving the Professor a parrot that only says "They're killing me!" with Lietta explaining "It'll remind you of us."  With Raro USA's release of CONVERSATION PIECE, the time seems right for a reconsideration of this neglected and very deeply personal late-period Visconti work.

Somewhat misleading artwork for the film's
1980s VHS release in the US.

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)