Small Town Murder Songs: Grade B

B

Small Town Murder Songs (2010)

Peter Stormare, Martha Plimpton, Stephen Eric McIntyre; Writer-Director Ed Gass-Donnelly. (Some archaic Mennonite German translated in subtitles).

In a small Mennonite town in Ontario, Canada, Walter (Stormare) is chief of police. He is old, slow-moving, slow-talking, but we get the sense he is highly experienced. A dead, naked woman is found by the lake and circumstances point to lowlife Eric (McIntyre), who lives with the chief’s ex-love-interest, Sam (Plimpton).

In brief flashbacks we get the idea that they broke up because the chief had committed some extremely violent act or acts in the past. We don’t know what they were or what the context was, but he has rejoined the church and believes his temper is now under control. But when it seems like Sam is lying to him, he goes right up to the brink of violence again. So the larger story is about the ability and the determination to change one’s character.

This Canadian film is very well acted and directed. The script is original and the cinematography stands out for its thoughtfulness. The only sour note is the dreadful sound track which I gather is authentic Mennonite church music. To my ear it was quite unpleasant, and not because it was unfamiliar. I like the unfamiliar. Rather, it sounded simplistic, droning, arrhythmic, repetitive, narrow in range and tone, and incomprehensible (in German). It did not add “atmosphere” as the Okie singing did, for example, in Brother Where Art Thou. But I guess that’s a matter of taste. Othewise, the film is well-constructed and executed, worth watching.

Jack Goes Boating: Grade A

A

Jack Goes Boating (2010)

Philip Seymour Hoffman, Amy Ryan, Daphne Rubin-Vega, John Ortiz; Director Philip Seymour Hoffman.

Jack (Hoffman) and Clyde (Ortiz) are a couple of 40 year old limo drivers in New York City who like reggae music. Clyde fixes Jack up with Connie (Ryan), a woman who works as a telemarketer with his wife, Lucy (Rubin-Vega). The date goes well, a relationship evolves, and Jack makes two promises, to take Connie boating next summer, and to cook a dinner next month at Clyde’s apartment (because Jack lives in his parents’ basement and has only a hotplate). Jack learns how to cook, and also how to swim, in preparation. The dinner party goes well at first, then turns to disaster when the food is burned and a fierce argument erupts between Clyde and Lucy. Jack and Connie make a hasty retreat and presumably will go boating next summer. That’s it. Eighty four minutes.

Now, why isn’t that the most boring movie you've ever heard of? One reason is the excellent writing. The dialog is completely original, interesting, witty, natural, and flows from the wellsprings of the human condition. (The story is from an off-Broadway play by Robert Glaudini that Hoffman starred in.) Add to that, remarkable, riveting, heartfelt acting, especially by Hoffman and Ryan. Hoffman never ceases to amaze me with his courage. He can do embarrassed vulnerability like no other actor. Ryan does vulnerability almost as well, but her character is more psychologically complex, so she adds a touch of fearful paranoia, which works extremely well. Ortiz and Rubin-Vega (also from the original stage performance) give fine performances, if not quite as nuanced. Ortiz’s voice and diction sound so much like Denzel Washington that it is distracting at first.

Then you have to consider the excellent directing, by Hoffman also. It is his directorial debut and clearly he has the knack. The overall feel is kind of stagey and a bit claustrophobic, but so are the characters’ lives, so that’s not necessarily a bad thing. The tone is Woody-Allenesque – nothing terribly original there, but the way Hoffman gets the camera right into the faces of his performers, including himself, is just as courageous as his own acting is. Finally, add in a first rate job on other elements of the movie, from the infectious reggae and Bill Evans soundtrack to pitch-perfect costumes and sets. It all adds up to a tour de force and a mesmerizing adult relationship drama that has not a minute of slack.

44-inch Chest: Grade B

B
44 Inch Chest (2009)
Ray Winstone, Tom Wilkinson, Ian McShane, John Hurt, Joanne Whalley; Director Malcolm Venville.

This set-bound talking head drama features some extremely fine acting and engaging (though profane), dialog that sounds like Mamet or even Beckett. Working class, aging British losers try to convince their buddy (Winstone) to kill the young man who cuckolded him. The victim is tied to a chair with a bag over his head, just like in Reservoir Dogs, and the allusions to that film are strong.

The men discuss, rant, and digress, with the director being forced to move the pace along with interesting cuts, time-slices, and even a gratuitous insertion of a clip from the old Sampson and Delilah movie. The desperate directorial need to relieve the claustrophobia of the set reminded me of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf (1966), and it doesn’t quite work in either movie, so you are left with the look and feel of a stage play.

There is a lack of action and story, a lack of character development, and an overabundance of words, but still the movie is well worth watching to enjoy the excellent acting and directing. The sound track is engaging and the set is very good. Cinematography is varied and interesting but the sepia palette gets old (a problem with having only one set). There is nothing new here, but great acting can redeem just about anything.

Adoration: Grade B

B
Adoration (2008)

Devon Bostick, Scott Speedman, Arsinée Khanjian. Writer-Director Adam Ergoyan.

A high school student (Bostick) writes a short story for his French class about how his father was a Muslim terrorist who attempted to smuggle a bomb onto an Israeli airline to blow up his mother (pregnant with himself) and everyone else. The teacher (Khanjihan) likes it and since she also teaches drama, encourages him to develop the story into a dramatic monolog, which he does, and he tries it out on his friends, on the internet, as a true tale. They believe him and he does not disabuse them of the ruse. We find out later that his parents were killed in a car crash, which is why he lives with his uncle (Speedman).

So is that the whole movie? -- Boy plays practical joke on his classmates? That’s just about it. But by intercutting dramatizations from the parents’ imagined past and their real past, Ergoyan manages to create some confusion about the truth, even though it is just obfuscation. Also there is an interesting relationship between the teacher and the uncle, who are both concerned about the boy’s developing sense of personal identity, not having known his parents. So overall, it is a pretty lame story. Incidental mentions of terrorism, Muslim extremism, racism, and other political themes are just gratuitous comments, adding nothing.

But what makes the movie strong are the magnificent visuals and the interesting dialog. Cinematography is stunningly beautiful (although the lighting is overdone in some indoor scenes, such as in the violin shop). Many shots involve striking symbolic imagery that you want to stop and examine in detail. The dialog has an extremely spare quality about it, not exactly realistic, but not exactly artificial either. It has a Mametesque quality in its minimalism and use of ambiguity, but it is not an imitation. There is an “Ergoyan” style of dialog, I would say, and I like it. Music is quite pleasant (violins, since a violin features in the story), but is not distinguished. Acting is very strong by the three principals. Overall then, the story is not successful but good acting and good visuals raise the quality to above average.

Duplicity: Grade C

C
Duplicity (2009)
Clive Owen, Julia Roberts, Tom Wilkinson, Paul Giamatti; Writer-Director Tony Gilroy.

Just like Ocean’s Eleven, which it apes in style, this movie is coruscation without content. Owen and Roberts are easy on the eyes, no question about that, but two hours of them is more than an eyeful. They are ex-government spies now employed in corporate espionage. Wilkinson is head of a big consumer products company that has a new “game-changing” shampoo, all very hush-hush. Giamatti is his opposite number who must have the secret formula to the new product. I find it impossible to get past Giamatti, into the character. He is full of arbitrary mannerisms and manufactured intensity. His acting seems desperate, without direction, and not funny, a contrast to his performance in Shoot 'em Up. Anyway, both corporations have substantial security departments to protect their secrets. Owen works for Giamatti while Roberts works for Wilkinson. So far so good, other than the ho-hum McGuffin.

But actually, Roberts also works for Giamatti’s team. She is a mole on the other side, and Owen is her “handler.” In a series of time slices we learn that the two have a long history as competitors and lovers and each has a difficult time trusting the other. That interaction, repeated without mercy, is cute and funny the first few times. The dialog is all clever phrases and snappy comebacks, unrealistic but reminiscent of Nick and Nora Charles in The Thin Man. The happy talk and pretty faces glide us over the choppy story. There are plenty of unexpected twists, lies, bluffs, and ambiguous loyalties to consider but there is no real dramatic tension because the writing depends on withholding information from the audience so you can’t really tell what’s up. The story itself has no inherent suspense. And unforgivably, it doesn’t add up. The ending is just a twisty turn for its own sake that is inconsistent with what already happened, a crash landing for a story on autopilot.

Cinematography is strong, with sets in such sumptuous detail you can almost touch them. Orange and blue filters are overdone, but the lighting is generally thoughtful and mood-setting. The acting is nondescript because the characters are only cartoons. That style can work for a caper movie, like The Thomas Crowne Affair, but in this case the writing was not up to the challenge, so we are left with a two hour fluff that is not unpleasant.

Grand Torino: Grade A

A
Grand Torino (2008)
Clint Eastwood, Bee Vang, Ahney Her; Director Clint Eastwood.

Eastwood is Walt, a crusty old Korean War veteran who lives alone in a run down section of Detroit that has been taken over by immigrant families including the extended southeast Asian Hmong family next door. He talks to himself and his dog so we can understand that he is still fighting the war, angry, alone, bitter, and an unrepentant racist. By chance, he saves the young neighbor boy from a group of Hmong gangbangers, so he becomes a neighborhood hero. He tries to reject that role, but gradually and grudgingly takes a liking to the young boy and his sister. The youngsters all speak English while the parents and old people do not, which gives ground for a good deal of humor. Walt voices some outrageous racist comments, which the Hmong youth accept with equanimity since he is obviously just an old fart who doesn’t know any better. That part is not exactly realistic, but it does show the audience the racism that is just under the surface in real life so it serves a social function. Walt teaches the young man some skills, and he gets a job, but the gang just won’t leave him or Walt alone. Walt realizes that the younger generation has no chance at all of making a decent life while the gang is around. His dramatic resolution to the problem invokes a complex of Dirty Harry and Catholic symbology in a predictable but effective ending.

The movie is a deft combination of serious drama, sociology, humor, history, tender feelings and “message.” For example, Walt gives the “Clint Eastwood Look” of intimidation several times and waves large guns while staring down bad guys, but never fires a weapon in anger. The only people who do are handcuffed and sent to prison. Yet the spirit of Dirty Harry is not lost. “You ever notice how there are some guys you just shouldn’t fuck with? Well I am that guy.” There are many layers and allusions to appreciate in this movie. I’d have to say it is as good, or better than Forbidden. Clint is nearly 80 now and we probably won’t see him on screen much more. If so, he goes out on a high note.

The Women: Grade B

B
The Women (2008)
Meg Ryan, Annette Benning, Eva Mendes, Debra Messing, Jada Pinkett Smith, Candice Bergen, Cloris Leachman; Co-writer & Director Diane English.

The dialog is still funny in this update of the 1939 classic comedy. Meg Ryan learns that her husband is having an affair with a shop girl (Mendes). Her girlfriends, especially Benning, give her copious advice. Now on her own (although still wealthy) she discovers that she doesn’t have to be a wife to be a person, so she starts her own fashion business. She resolves to get a divorce but can’t sign the papers. It turns out she wants to be married after all. Who could have guessed that?

The original film was fascinating for showing idle rich women in the midst of the Great Depression, and also because back then, women really were little more than wives, so breaking free to be a female person was a radical character development. All that context is gone in this movie, leaving only witty dialog, and it’s witty in a jokey, sitcom way, without the acerbic tones of the original.

The modern characters are brain-dead and the story a catalog of banality. Despite its ostensible celebration of women’s independence, this film does the cause a disservice by stereotyping its characters’ concerns around clothing, food, children, babies, marriage and domestic matters. There are no men in the movie but a male definition of the world is built-in, whether in ogling Eva Mendes’ butt or by having men and marriage be the psychological hub of life.

The acting is nothing special although it is fun to see so many big names. Bette Midler’s cameo is a high point. Jada Smith’s performance is seriously grating. There are some nice directorial touches. The silly dialog and cheap sentimentality make this light, empty-headed comedy an amusing diversion.

Redbelt: Grade A

A
Redbelt
Chiwetel Ejiofor, Tim Allen, Emily Mortimer, Joe Mantegna, David Paymer, Ricky Jay. Writer-Director David Mamet.

David Mamet, lord of talking heads, doing a martial arts movie? Would the characters actually fight, or only talk about fighting? But it turns out to be a good blend of action, dialog and characterization. Ejiofor radiates presence. I see Jeff Goldblum in his slack-jaw, heavy-lidded stare and a young Samuel L. Jackson in his voice and movements. He was a showstopper in Children of Men and a standout in American Gangster. He is magic here.

He plays an impoverished jiu-jitsu instructor in Los Angeles, married to a Brazilian wife whose brother runs a shady bar and promotes martial arts contests. Mortimer is in some kind of unspecified distress when she stumbles into the martial arts studio, where in her jumpiness, she accidentally discharges a gun that a police officer inexplicably left unattended on a countertop, loaded, with the safety off. That triggers, so to speak, a Rube Goldberg contraption of a plot.

Ejiofor saves a Hollywood actor (Allen) from getting beat up in the Brazilian bar. Allen is impressed, invites Ejiofor to consult on his film that coincidentally involves jiu-jitsu. Meanwhile, Ejiofor’s wife borrows money from a loan shark (Paymer, who we do not see enough of). As the screws tighten, Ejiofor is forced to compete in a fixed fight to get the money he needs. He thus moves from the highest spiritual principles of martial arts to participating in a fixed fight to save his hide. Yet the movie ends before we learn how he accommodates that change, or indeed, if he even wins the money. Emily Mortimer gives a wonderful performance even though her character is nonsense.

At first, Mamet’s sophisticated phrases do not fit into the mouth of the jiu-jitsu instructor. But later the dialog calms down and is strong enough to drive the story through its implausible coincidences. It is possible that Mamet intended the multiple unexpected plot turns to mirror the inner action of jiu-jitsu itself, but if so, that strategy was not effective. Mamet is a student of Brazilian jiu-jitsu, which is a mix of the ancientJapanese martial art with boxing and kick boxing. The action scenes are good, although not very exciting. They are shot with close-ups and short edits so you have the feel of a fight without really seeing one. The best of the action is when Ejiofor demonstrates how particular moves work. The Brazilian flavor, with smatterings of Portuguese, add color. This is not a masterpiece, but the acting, directing, dialog and sets are so strong that I remained completely engaged.