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WINTER 2004 MOVIE REVIEWS

Dean's rating scale:  **** Exceptionally good, ***Quite good indeed, ** I liked some things about it, but found it to be something closer to average,* Not recommended.

I need to point out that I am not really as critical as my reviews sometimes sound.  Generally, anything two stars or better is something I have enjoyed, and even those to which I only give one star have some aspects I find redeeming, though obviously less so than others.  Anything with less than a star (that is 0 or 1/2) is a nearly absolute thumb’s down.  Four stars are given less often and only to those that have most moved me, most effectively depicted believability and/or given me the most food for thought.

Bus 154

***

City of God

****

Cold Mountain

***

The Cooler

*

Dreamers

**

The Fog of War

****

Girl with a Pearl Erring

**1/2

In America

**

Monster

***

Something’s Gotta Give

***1/2

The Station Agent

**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bus 154(In Portuguese with English subtitles) – Foreign documentaries rarely make it into American theaters, but what starts off as a run-of-the-mill crime story soon turns into something quite extraordinary.  A hostage taking on a city bus by a young homeless man who spent his childhood on the streets of Rio devolves into a chaotic tragedy.  Along with a dissection of the events of a single day and a thorough analysis of the ingredients that go into the making of a desperate young man, we see a disturbing examination of the hopeless lives of Rio’s street-urchin children who struggle to survive in the face of indifference and a despicable sentiment from some who would rather see them dead.  The film marches in the standard set of egghead psychologist /sociologist experts to enlighten you about what causes a young man to crack, but if a series of tragic events don’t explain enough, such as his mother and later his homeless friends being shot in front of him, then one utterly haunting look at Rio’s deplorable penal system will explain the rest.  As for the events that occur on the bus, there is not a lot of suspense, only bafflement as to how it could go on for so long in the manner it did.   (Children – Only those with the ability and patience to read rapidly moving subtitles; Teens and adults – ditto)  ***

City of God (In Portuguese with English subtitles) – Surely worthy of Best Foreign Film, no other I’ve seen from any country even remotely captures the violence of poverty as well as this film does.  Although often difficult to watch, brutally violent and depressing, few films achieve such a level of realism as it focuses with rare depth and breadth on the subject of gang warfare.  Cast entirely with trained amateurs from Rio’s shantytowns, remarkably filmed with handheld cameras and expertly edited into layers of complexity rarely seen, this is a film that is fascinating on many different levels.  Although based on a true story, I am curious as to the extent to which it deviates from that described by the author/narrator, who epically traces his life and that of criminals in his shantytown from childhood to young adulthood.  As with Bus 154 (above), it seems that the only Brazilian films that make it to U.S. theaters are those that focus upon Brazil’s poverty stricken.  Central Station, another great film a few years ago, is another such example.  As with Brazilians themselves, it’s depressing that it takes such extremes to get us to sit up and pay attention.  My only concern is the extent to which this film glorifies gang violence for younger audiences.  Presumably, few in the shantytowns can ever hope to make it to the movies, and few would-be copycats in other countries show up at foreign films or have the patience to read often breakneck-paced subtitles.  However, it’s definitely worth your time and effort to do so, if you can bear the dismal subject matter.   (Children – nope, due to abundantly brutal violence in the hands of babies; Teens – mature, non-aggressive ones) ****

Cold Mountain – Though this is a genuinely captivating epic story of longing and endurance through the harsh brutalities of the American Civil War, one nevertheless cannot help but feel manipulated through a series of ordeals designed to do little more than be this year’s Miramax Oscar contender and ego gratifier for Harvey Weinstein, to whom all of Hollywood seems to be obliged to bow these days – just count the number of times his name gets mentioned at the Golden Globes and Oscar ceremonies.  Well, more power to him, because it’s good somebody is putting out some worthwhile big budget films.  In spite of the brutal and graphic nature of many scenes, the sentiments and even the casting skews more toward satisfying feminine appetites. Given a script brimming with strong female characters that is otherwise, aside from the leading man, relatively devoid of noble male roles, one might get the feeling that this is sort of a Thelma and Louise do the Civil War.   While attention is paid to uncomfortable topics such as the treatment of war deserters, the subject of slavery seems to have virtually no place in a film that principally targets white women who enjoy romance novels.  Unfortunately, that audience may find some of the more potentially romantic moments frustratingly constrained.  Aside from being box office draws, the selection of Nicole Kidman, Jude Law, Renee Zellwegger, Phillip Seymour Hoffman and others whose accents do not hail from the Deep South seems designed to demonstrate those actors substantial abilities.  In an otherwise dismal pattern of events, the film’s relatively few lighter moments – silly moments actually -- are principally delivered by Zellwegger.  Clocking in at two and a half hours, the story is generally satisfying, though it is certainly not Gone with the Wind, and it lacks the impact it might have had if there was something more to be learned from the ordeal of the extensive longing and the often pointless brutality that’s not in the immediate context of war.  (Kids – perhaps not appropriate given some scenes of graphic violence and sexuality;  teens – generally okay)  ***

The Cooler – This one is not worth your time to go see and not worth my time to write about extensively.  Alec Baldwin and Maria Bello have received Golden Globe nominations for their supporting roles, and William H. Macy is always an interesting guy to watch.  Unfortunately, good acting cannot overcome a largely ridiculous plot.  The script writer must have concluded, perhaps correctly, that people interested in a movie about Las Vegas gambling are also people more inclined to believe in Santa Claus than in the laws of probabilities, because this film often throws probability, or even plausibility, to the wind.  (Kids – definitely not; Young teens – probably not; Everybody else – not worth your time unless you have an unusual interest in these actors or in gambling)  *

Dreamers – In a frail effort to lend credibility and sophistication to what is basically voyeuristic sexploitation of his movie-going audience, director Bernardo Bertillucci (Last Tango in Paris, The Last Emperor), with a unusual sense of guilt in his dialog, attempts to distract with nondescript politics, stick-man philosophy and a plot shamelessly designed to cater to the professional cinemaphiles who review this film.  At one point, he says any director that would make such a film ought to be thrown in jail, and at one time under some community standards, he and his audiences could have been.   A young American student in Paris during the politically turbulent days of the late 1960s becomes a willing captive to a deep but nearly incestuous relationship between twin siblings.  Though surely erotic and entertaining, one can’t help but feel a little exploited by a plot that uses vacuous distractions from a main course of explicit sexuality from which little has sufficient depth to be edifying.  The jealousy of a twin brother and sister is the closest the film gets to substance, but even that is at best unidimensional, and the whys and wherefores of virtually everything are irrelevant to a director that has little more hope than to titillate his audience and apparently, by his own explicit admission, himself.   Let’s not lock him up, nor do so to ourselves.  Anything that reminds of our own youthful indiscretions or hopes for what they could have been is somehow joyous.  A soundtrack of the musical icons of that era, Dylan, Joplin, Morrison, etc. provides what little brain candy is mixed with the groin candy.    (Kids – no way; Teens under 17 – certainly not recommended that they try this at home).  **    

The Fog of War – In a year of exceptional documentaries, among them Capturing the Friedmans, Winged Migration (previously nominated), Bus 154 and others, this to my mind is the most important of the crop by far.  I wish that all thoughtful people, plus a sizeable percentage of less interested and less informed folks, would opt in favor of learning some philosophical lessons instead of merely being entertained.  Director Errol Morris together with his subject, the controversial former U.S. Defense Secretary Robert McNamara, does very well to provide both.  Admire McNamara or hate him (as his longtime detractors most certainly still do), the 87-year-old wonder child is undeniably brilliant and captivating, and he has eleven lessons about war that he claims to have learned during his rather remarkable life -- a life that among other things involved him in such notable experiences as firebombing hundreds of thousands of Japanese in World War II, the Cuban Missile Crisis, and being a principle architect for the conduct of the Vietnam War.  Installing seat belts in automobiles as a Ford Motor Company executive may have saved more lives over the years as his war casualty counts cost.  The man often accused of arrogance is also very self effacing and fragilely human.  He makes a case for his actions and decisions, but is also filled with mea culpas, mostly implicit but also explicit.  “We were wrong”, he says regarding the rationale for fighting the Vietnam War, notably the domino theory and the desire to prevent the spread of Communism as propagated by the Soviets and China.  That’s small consolation indeed for the families of those who died there.   Using the distance between his thumb and forefinger he says, “We came this close” – four times -- to blowing ourselves up during the Cuban Missile Crisis, and ending our civilization.  The man, aside from being a good story teller of his life experiences, is refreshingly candid about his misjudgments as well as about his decisions of dubious merit and morality.  He all but admits to fitting the definition of a war criminal for his participation in the firebombing of Japan.  At other times, he seems a little more disingenuous, particularly in some of his defenses of actions in Vietnam.  I listen to this guy and I keep thinking, boy does he remind me of Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld -- only a Rumsfeld that I expect to see thirty years from now, if we don’t blow ourselves up by then.   The film ought to be required viewing for defense policy makers here in Washington, and I hope they are all screening this movie.  On a weekday afternoon -- New Years Eve at that -- one wouldn’t expect such an esoteric documentary to attract a crowd, but the seats of the theater were surprisingly well occupied.  Take note if you happen to notice some policy changes in the near future.  Errol Morris, director of A Thin Blue Line, a film I roundly panned, seems to be much more in his element directing documentaries than he is directing fiction.  I hope the Golden Globes and the Academy Awards brings attention to this important film, though I suspect it might be too politically hot and they’ll be more inclined to award Capturing the Friedmans.  Note that I seem to have a strong bias toward documentaries, dishing out four stars to every one I’ve seen this year.   (Kids – perhaps a little too intellectual for most; Teens and adults – highly recommended, though it may be a little long for some)  ****

Girl with a Pearl Earring – In its exquisite artfulness, this delicate film bears resemblance to the masterpiece Johannes Vermeer painted of a young girl three centuries ago, a portrait that captivated my imagination when I saw it at the National Gallery of Art in Washington (on tour a few years ago from its home in The Hague).  Few films I’ve seen pay such attention to the most minute of details – the color and structure of the rind from a sliced fruit, the sound of grinding powder in a crucible, the reflection in a pearl earring, the light through a window on the gentle facial features of a young woman.   The face of Scarlet Johannson alone, with her nearly perfect match to the doe-eyed, bulbous-lipped girl in the portrait, is worth the price of admission.  The 18-year-old Johannson comes fresh from her attention-getting role in Lost in Translation, and although she barely speaks in either film, she is justly worthy of her simultaneous Best Actress nominations, though I suspect she is likely to yield this year to Charlize Theron in Monster.   Colin Firth plays a strapping Vermeer, but unfortunately, a thin fictional plot does defaming injustice to the master artist.  These days, it seems that the lives of people long dead (or even those still alive but somehow publicly demonized) are entirely ripe for expropriating with little fear of defamation lawsuits.   However, Vermeer, is not what this film is about, nor is the plot itself.  The enigmatic young woman captivates us, and the bigger reason to go is that the angel is in the artful details.  (Okay for all ages – but a little slow and insubstantial for some) **1/2        

In America – Loosely based on director Jim Sheridan’s personal experiences of relocating his family from Ireland to New York City, this immigrant tale is far more optimistic than his earlier notable works set in his native land, My Left Foot and In the Name of the Father.  Seen mainly through the eyes of his precocious young daughters – who have the majority of the dialog, though perhaps not the most on-screen time – this is a film clearly designed with the holiday season in mind.   Though not overly sugary, there is a bit of magic and mystery among the trials and frustrations, with little opportunity to dwell on sadness.  The principle message here is that his family, particularly his daughters, manages through their eternal optimism to counterbalance his tendency toward dwelling on darker perspectives (as in his other films) and despairing.  At times, his daughters seem a bit too perceptive for their age, and deliver the lines more likely delivered by older adolescents or adults -- a common mistake in family-oriented movies.  The marquee misleads in that the film is less an immigrant family’s “coming of age” story, and more a “coming to terms” story, focusing most urgently with the unspoken emotions remaining from the accidental death of Sheridan’s son when they lived in Ireland as well as the illness of a new found friend suffering from AIDS.    Although there are emotional moments, there’s little opportunity to feel moved, and the melding of seriousness with light-spiritedness is weaker than one might hope.  Still, it does the job of a holiday film – involve us and distract us from ourselves and our cares.  (Children – yes, but there are brief moments of violence and suggestive sexuality; Teens – yes, but most would prefer something more akin to Lord of the Rings; Adults – take it or leave it)  **

Monster Transformational roles certainly have a way of making us sit up and take notice.  In the case of actress Charlize Theron’s performance in this powerfully disturbing film, based upon a true story, I can only exclaim, “And how!”  Transformation, of course, can have many meanings, and for the South African actress it has at least two meanings these days.  Firstly, there’s the obvious transformation required by the role as notorious serial killer Aileen Wurnos of adding both substantial swagger and substantial girth to the actress’s previously known prissy and petite personality and frame.  Then, there’s another kind of transformation that has inadvertently come with the role, one that has undoubtedly made Theron’s phone ring off the hook, taken her from third to first tier movie actress, and sent her stock with Hollywood execs skyrocketing like an internet IPO.  Anyone who has seen the impossibly attractive actress in her unremarkable roles in previous films – e.g. Cider House Rules, Sweet November, etc. – and then seen her interviewed after the making of Monster in the context of seeing clips from her performance in the film would have to think, “What kind of diet drugs have they put this woman on?”   It’s one thing to be covered in layers of makeup and costume and quite another to be covered in additional layers of one’s own flesh.  Lots of actors have done this sort of thing.  Robert DeNiro started the trend with the substantial extra pounds he put on for his celebrated role in Raging Bull.  Tom Hanks put on pounds and then lost them in Castaway.  Renee Zellwegger was up for Bridget Jones Diary, down for Chicago.    But for Theron, who in order to portray Wurnos put on 30 pounds for this film (and with equal speed and greater amazement took it off upon completion) was greased down and covered in some kind of freckle-like make-up, the transformation was not merely a physical one, because at times she seems to channel something hauntingly deep within her spirit.  Debut director Patty Jenkins helped pull such performances out of the entire cast, notably including Christina Ricci, who plays Wurnos’s young lesbian lover.  The director imbues sympathetic qualities in Wurnos and the cast of almost exclusively unseemly and reprehensible characters -- hardly a likeable one in the bunch – and yet the audience’s sympathy is carefully guided to wax and wane.  As one might expect from such dismal subject matter, this is not a film in which to lighten up, relax and feel good about humanity, though it is good storytelling and an impressive, deftly handled first outing for a director.  And if Charlize Theron fails to get duly recognized and awarded, it would be criminal.  (Adult topics and brutal scenes of rape and other graphic violence make this not recommended for children and perhaps young teens and others who might feel squeamish)  ***

Something’s Gotta Give – Funny, touching, thoughtful, romantic – this film is much more of a charmer than I had imagined.  With boomers now moving into their golden years, it’s likely we can expect to see more romantic comedies for us geezers, but this one has broad appeal.  With smart dialog that far outshines recent others of its ilk, including the current nominee for Best Picture Lost in Translation, it’s a little surprising to me that this film hasn’t gotten more recognition beyond Diane Keaton’s and Jack Nicolson’s nominations.  Nancy Meyer’s script is thoroughly brilliant, with rare missteps.  Keaton is fabulous, and it’s unfortunate that the Oscars still require the comparison of apples with oranges – comedic performances with dramatic ones – because otherwise she would likely be recognized along with Charlize Theron, as they were for the Golden Globes.  Nicolson’s character-acting more than makes up for his lack of leading man plausibility in this context, though he always seems to be playing some variation of his womanizing self, or as he says in the film, “some variation of the truth” – just this time he gets to be more sensitive and charming than usual.  I’m still baffled by women’s willingness to accept as believable, both in film and in real life, relatively ugly old guys cast as romantic foils for women young enough to be their granddaughters.  Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson in Lost in Translation also fit this mold.  Both films were written, cast and directed by women.  Okay, there are attractive younger guys, in this case Keanau Reeves, but somehow they don’t match up.  Is this reality, or now that I’m approaching my AARP years, are they just trying to feed my false hopes?   (Kids – perhaps not due to brief nudity and adult subject matter; Teens – probably okay)  ***1/2    

The Station Agent – Viewing this cornucopia of quirky characters, one gets the feeling of a carnival side show painted by Toulouse Le Trec.  Unfortunately, though someone of my ilk might find it more than sufficiently entertaining, its snail’s pace and insubstantial subject matter is likely to underwhelm most audiences, even though the artsy types at Sundance and other eclectic film festivals give it their okie dokie.   The film focuses upon a half-baked aquaintenceship, not entirely welcome, between a shy and withdrawn train-buff (who happens to be of unusually short physical stature), an overly exuberant hot dog salesman, and a middle age ditzy woman distracted by the dissolution of her marriage.  The strength of the film is its humanity.  Even though the characters are often inexplicably mean to each other, they seem drawn to each other at the moments when it matters most.  Though the associations are sometimes unbelievable, the characters themselves are thoroughly believable and remind us of caricatures of ourselves or of others we have known.  The train buff refers to himself as a dwarf, is by his own description thoroughly dull, and is the antithesis of the stereotypical Hollywood image of midgets, who by and large until now have always been seen running around crazily jumping out of small boxes, driving toy cars, etc.   The hot dog salesman is his opposite in most respects, thoroughly self-confident, sort of a macho everyman, enthusiastic about life and outgoing to the point of being overbearing, though he is kind spirited.  The ditzy woman, portrayed by Patricia Clarkson (see also the recent Pieces of April), struggles with depression and oscillates between functionality and dysfunctionality.  Other local characters – both odd and predictable -- fill out the story, which seems to be about little more than normal life with a few quirks thrown in (which is normal, isn’t it?).  (Kids, teens and adults – appropriate for all but the very young, but is quite slowly paced and dull for some)  **      

 



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