Gainsbourg: A Heroic Life: Grade B

B
Gainsbourg: A Heroic Life

Eric Elmosnino, Lucy Gordon, Laetitia Casta, Doug Jones; Writer-Director Joann Sfar (French, subtitled)

Serge Gainsbourg was a pop singer-songwriter in France who enjoyed enormous fame in the mid 1960’s. Though virtually unknown in America today, this biopic is worth seeing because it is a visual feast, an auditory feast, and an acting feast.

Writer-Director Joann Sfar is a creator of comic books (or “graphic novels,” as they are reverently known) and his uninhibited, surrealistic visual sensibility dominates the film, especially in the first half, which covers the childhood of Lucien Ginsberg (real name) in Nazi-occupied Paris. The boy’s alter-ego is a huge balloon with tiny arms and legs, that follows him around, mocking his self-image as an ugly kid, and his Jewishness. The anti-semitism of the Vichy regime is noted, but the story line is really about the boy’s irreverent, iconoclastic, precocious, artistic soul, as he develops his talent as a painter. At times, his alter-ego is represented by an animated figure that swoops around Paris. These early scenes get an A+ for creativity and visual attractiveness.

But it is nominally a biography, so the boy becomes a man (suddenly, without incident), a piano player and song-writer who works sleazy bars and hopes to succeed as a painter. His alter-ego is now played, wonderfully, by a costumed icon with huge nose and ears (Jones), who follows him around and seems to represent his grounding, his center, who he really is (in his mind). Gainsbourg (the adult stage name) is played brilliantly by the relatively unknown actor Elmosnino. His presentation, always through a blue cloud of Gauloises smoke, is simply eye-gripping. In his own voice he sings in the style of ‘60’s chanson, and the songs are great. He cavorts with multiple women, including Bridget Bardot, wonderfully played by Casta, a sensation in her own right. He performs a fabulous reggae version of the Marseillaise, and as he becomes a huge star, also becomes a drunken fool who loses his compass.

During the last half of the film, the visual creativity that was so stunning earlier, fades, and the movie focuses on the psychological development of the artist as he loses his center but never despairs that, though others around him do. The last half runs far too long and dwells too closely, without insight, on basically an unattractive person, diminishing the overall effectiveness of the movie. Nevertheless the film is a work of art worth seeking out.

The Man Who Wasn't There: Grade A

A

The Man Who Wasn’t There (2002)

Billy Bob Thornton, Francis McDormand, James Gandolfini, Scarlett Johansson, Richard Jenkins, Tony Shaloub; Writers and Directors Joel and Ethan Coen.

This movie came within a hair’s breadth of qualifying as one of the most perfect movies ever made, right up there with Casablanca, North By Northwest, and Citizen Kane. Only the bloated, dithering ending spoiled it. If it had ended when BBT’s wife (McDormand) died, it would have been perfect, but that would have been too “noir” apparently, so an entirely new theme was introduced at the 11th hour, which seems to be from a different movie, in order to engineer a morally “pat” ending. Too bad.

BBT is a small town barber in 1949 California. We see him cut hair, but it is in the voiceover narration that we understand his character. He is laconic, a man of few words, reminiscent of the narrator in Camus’ Novel, The Stranger. Normally I don’t like voiceover but it works in this case because it is not a substitute for good, filmic storytelling. BBT meets a fly-by-night entrepreneur who needs a $10K investment to establish an innovative new business, “dry-cleaning.” To get the money, BBT commits a crime and the rest of the story is about the consequences of that act. The pace is slow, but not saggy, and the humor is sardonic.

The film is shot in glorious black-and-white, with sharp high-contrast, and loads of creative lighting and camera angles. You really do get the sense of time and place, although I think that sense is derived from watching old Bogart movies, not because the era actually looked like that. Still, it is wonderful. The mystery tale is well-told and the characters are convincing. McDormand gives a very fine performance, but Thornton is mesmerizing. That guy really knows how to smoke a cigarette! Gandolfini (before he blimped out), looks good and acts competently. Johansson is extremely cute but her role is just eye candy. The score is mostly excerpts from Beethoven piano sonatas, especially numbers 8 and 32, which give me the chills. So this stylistic thriller is completely successful as an homage, yet at the same time original, but comes up just shy of perfect.

Get Low: Grade C

C

Get Low

Robert Duvall, Bill Murray, Sissy Spacek, Lucas Black; Director Aaron Schneider.

You should see this movie because Duvall has never been better. The man is a master of the art of acting. He just possesses the screen whenever he is on it, even when most of his face is hidden by the long, ratty beard of the old hermit who is his character. And you should see the movie because Bill Murray is a great comic actor who does not need to tell jokes to get a laugh. All he needs to do is raise an eyebrow at the right moment, or toss an offhand remark. Put together Murray with Duvall, and you have an entertaining movie.

But that’s all there is. The rest of the actors do not perform well. Black in particular struggles unsuccessfully against something, maybe the director’s instructions? The story itself is exceptionally weak. The old hermit (Duvall) wants to throw a funeral party for himself, ostensibly so he can learn what people say about him. Funeral director Murray agrees to set it up, but then the old guy changes his mind after the invitations have already gone out. Anxiety follows, but predictably, the big event occurs, at which time, for reasons unclear, the old hermit reveals a dreadful family secret that does not amount to a hill of beans, but Sisssy Spacek cries, so it must be important. That is consistent with the poor writing that substitutes cheap sentimentality for characterization.

On the plus side (besides the great acting mentioned above), the bluegrass music is quite good and the costumes, sets and props for early 1930’s rural south are thoughtfully done, even though everything is brand new and shiny. But since the story line is so weak, the movie is, alas, instantly forgettable.

You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger: Grade A

A

You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger (2010)

Josh Brolin, Anthony Hopkins, Gemma Jones, Naomi Watts, Antonio Banderas; Writer-Director Woody Allen.

An elderly married couple breaks up (Hopkins-Jones) when he realizes that his wife “has let herself get old.” He hits the gym and takes up with a young, beautiful, airhead, gold digger prostitute. Meanwhile their daughter (Watts) breaks up with her husband (Brolin), a failed writer. Each of the four is soon attracted to other potential mates. Everyone is haunted by failed relationships and struggles to start a new life.

It took me a while to get into this movie. It starts out with dreadful acting, a stilted script, noticeably mechanical directing, and a dreadful, intrusive narrator. I thought, "This is aggressively bad!" About halfway through, some real acting begins to show, although the characters never do become well developed. Finally I realized what Allen was trying to do. He did not want us to get involved with these characters. They are symbols, or archetypes for the lives in our culture, not real people we should care about. That’s why the plot line is practically nonexistent, the romantic relationships stereotypes, and the acting hollow. None of that matters. He is forcing us beyond the particular characters into universals. We are being shown the archetypes of modern, Western, sophisticated urban life, so that we might reflect on its meaning, or lack of same. Ultimately this is an existential movie that says, your life has no meaning, despite today’s passions and angst that seem so gripping. That is the human condition.

What makes this approach work is the superlative film making, especially the sets and costumes. Every detail, and I mean every one, is absolutely perfect. Colors, camera angles, framing, lighting, movement, rhythm, jewelry, hairstyle, buttons, every tiny detail is done to loving perfection, and the movie is worth seeing just for that exercise of craft. But as a bonus, you get the subtle existential message, and the pleasure of seeing some familiar faces on the big screen. You could watch this movie as a mildly interesting romantic comedy/drama, but you’d be missing the point. It is so much more if you look a little deeper.

The Killer Inside Me: Grade B

B

The Killer Inside Me (2010)

Casey Affleck, Jessica Alba, Kate Hudson, Ned Beatty; Director Michael Winterbottom.

Casey Affleck is a revelation in this crime drama set in the 1950’s. His superb acting animates the main character, Lou, a psychopathic small town sheriff in the south, a well-worn cliché, to be sure, but he breathes life into it. The story gets off to a shaky start when he is ordered to run a prostitute (Alba) out of town, but decides to kill her instead, by beating her to death with his fists. (There is plenty of bloody brutality in the movie, especially directed toward women – another tired cliché we don’t need repeated). Why does he do that? There is some sketchy backstory about how a certain guy in town may or may not have facilitated the death of his brother years ago, in a construction incident that may or may not have been an accident. So when this other guy shows up at the prostitute’s place as arranged, Lou shoots him with her gun then places the gun in her hand, thus achieving revenge. But a detective from out of town is not satisfied with the evidence and relentlessly sniffs around until the predictable revelation and conflagration at the end.

So if this movie is just one predictable cliché after another, why give it such a positive rating? Acting is the main reason. It is riveting throughout, especially Affleck’s version of a calm, polite, friendly, cold-blooded psychopath. Directing is excellent. Sets and scenes are perfect. Cinematography is perfect. Costumes are perfect. The old cars are lovely. And the music is fantastic, mostly authentic period country, like Hank Williams, Carl Perkins, etc., but also with some very fine operatic interludes (Puccini, I think). This movie is so well constructed that you just have to give it a break and overlook the dreadful misogyny and clichéd story.

Lady Vengeance: Grade A

A
Lady Vengeance (2005)
Yeong-ae Lee, Min-sik Choi; Co-writer and Director Chan-wook Park. (Korean, subtitled).

This is the third and final film in director Park’s revenge trilogy. I have seen and reviewed recently Old Boy, the second in the series. In this one, a young woman (Lee) is unjustly imprisoned for the kidnapping and murder of a child. In intercut scenes we see her as a model prisoner, kind to all, and yet managing to make a prison murder look like an accident, so we know she has two faces. Upon her release, she is intent on revenge against the man who set her up (Choi), and she engages other ex-cons to help her. The final revenge involves torture and buckets of blood (this is a Tartan films release), but unlike Old Boy, the torture is not explicit and that makes those scenes watchable. So revenge is had. Or is it?

I don’t think Park really has captured the full phenomenology of revenge, either in this film or the last. When you have a psychotic serial killer, death or even torture, is not sufficient because he will never feel remorse. You can cause physical pain, but revenge is about dealing with the victim’s psychological pain, which is not satisfied by blood. In Lady Vengeance, this is acknowledged, because despite the ultimate torture and murder of the perp, the focus is on the families of the murdered boys. They get their pound of flesh, but are they satisfied? The perfect revenge movie has yet to be made.

However, Lady Vengeance is well worth watching because it is beautifully shot and creative, well-acted and masterfully directed. The music is wonderful, classical notes setting a calm tone that only heightens the story’s mood of desperation. There was also a stunningly beautiful vocal piece in there that may have been from Orfeo and Euridice, the opera. My main complaints are that the narrative was jumbled by aggressive time slicing, making it often confusing, and that there are at least two anti-climactic endings, the final one being especially superfluous (although beautiful to look at). So overall, this is a beautifully made film that also makes you think.

Old Boy: Grade B

B
Old Boy (2003)
Min-sik Choi, Hye-jeong Kang, Ji-tae Yu; Director Chan-wook Park. (Korean, subtitled)

A middle aged man (Choi) is imprisoned in a windowless hotel room and he does not know why. Food appears under the door, and each day the room is filled with gas that puts him to sleep while the staff cleans the room. Predictably, he goes nuts, but he recovers (more or less) upon release without explanation or context after fifteen years.

He meets a sympathetic waitress (Kang) and develops a relationship with her, but he is consumed by desire to know what happened and for revenge on his captor (Yu), who he discovers through careful research. There are many twists and turns and a surprising ending.

The film is beautifully photographed, well directed, and the music is outstanding. The picture is extremely stylish and good-looking. It is also drenched in blood. Tartan Films (Tarantino’s outfit) “presents” the movie, so you should know what to expect. I just fast forwarded past the most violent scenes.

Acting is outstanding by Choi and Kang and it is fun to get a glimpse into Korean culture. A sense of modern, urban, existential alienation comes through although the ultimate theme of the story is fairly pedestrian, not as shocking to an American audience as the actors’ reactions suggest. I recommend it on the basis of excellent filmmaking.

The Caller: Grade C

C
The Caller (2008)
Frank Langella, Elliott Gould. Co-writer and director Richard Ledes.

In this stylish neo-noir drama, Langella is a financial analyst who blows the whistle on an energy company’s evildoings. Naturally, they hire a contract killer to silence him. He knew they would do that, so he hires a PI (Gould) to keep an eye on him, but he tells Gould (with an electronically disguised voice) that “the subject” is a dangerous murderer. The logic of that move is unclear. The PI gets to know the exec, without realizing he is also his employer. He learns a few things about the exec, all of it mundane, none of it important. In a series of irrelevant Langella flashbacks to a WWII childhood, we learn that the exec and the PI were childhood friends who narrowly escaped the Nazis in France. Gould however is unaware of this historical link, and in the climactic scene of the movie, he becomes aware. So what? So nothing. The story in all its parts is pointless. However, you might want to look at this movie anyway to see Langella’s fine, brooding performance, and excellent acting from Gould and several other characters, and the high quality cinematography, directing, and music, especially bandoneon music, which I am nuts about. This is really an attractive movie; too bad they did not have a decent story to tell.

Another Woman: Grade A

A
Another Woman (1988)
Gena Rowlands, Mia Farrow, Ian Holm, Blythe Danner, Gene Hackman, Sandy Dennis, Martha Plimpton, John Housman. Writer & Director Woody Allen

Despairing the quality of summer releases, I went to the stacks and pulled out this gem from 20 years ago. Better acting in an adult relationship film you will not find. Gena Rowlands is an eminent college professor who overhears a conversation between a young woman (Farrow) and her psychiatrist concerning love, relationships, self esteem. This gets the professor thinking about her own life and relationships. Later we see that her relationship with her husband (Holm) is perfunctory, and although she still seeks a flame of romance, he has long since shut her out with clever words. She meets an old friend (Dennis) and discovers that relationship is not what she thought it was. She sees her husband with another woman. And on and on. Nothing happens. There are no gunfights, explosions, car chases or even much laughter. But the story does goes to the heart of modern adult relationships. Sets and costumes are deliciously perfect in the Woody Allen trademark style of wealthy New Yorkers. Every detail is perfect. Cinematography (Sven Nyquist) is stylish and perfect as always. And the acting! Gene Hackman was flat, but the others were memorable, especially Sandy Dennis. This is a movie that rewards another look.

Saturday Night Fever: Grade A

A
Saturday Night Fever (1977)
John Travolta, Karen Lynn Gorney; Director John Badham.

This glorification of the disco era is much better than I remembered it. The acting is remarkably good, directing is good, and the story has a lot more subtlety and sociological complexity than I remember. New York sets are rich and authentic. Travolta is king of the Brooklyn disco hall, often opposite partner and romantic interest Gorney. Disco dancing (of the Travolta-esque kind) looks contrived and silly, but the killer Bee Gees music makes it infectious nevertheless. I always liked disco music and was sorry to see it fade away. None did it better than the Bee Gees. This is definitely worth a repeat look.

My Blueberry Nights: Grade A

A
My Blueberry Nights (2007)
Norah Jones, Jude Law, David Strathairn, Natalie Portman, Rachel Weisz; Co-Writer and Director Kar Wai Wong.

A jilted young woman (Jones) travels around the U.S. to get over her loss and get in touch with herself, but before she goes, she happens in at Jude Law’s café where he serves her blueberry pie and they talk about love and life. In her subsequent year-long road trip, she sends him a stream of postcards. Along the way, she meets Strathairn as a drunken cop in a bar where she works nights, and encounters his estranged wife, Weisz. She meets high-stakes poker player Portman in Nevada and rides to Vegas with her. Finally Jones returns to New York and Law’s cafe, realizing that love is closer than you think.

The movie is as sweet as blueberry pie; utterly charming, leaving you feeling good. The acting is spectacular throughout, even by Jones, who also narrates and sings on the sound track. Strathairn is as good or better than he was in the 2006 Sensation of Sight. Weisz seethes with a Tennesee Williams intensity, much more passionate than her usual controlled, intellectual roles. Portman plays a character older than I would have expected and jumps from the screen with exuberance. This many big names in a movie is usually the kiss of death, but everybody puts out 100%, a tribute to Wong’s directing as much as the actors’ talents.

Cinematography is so good you could print any frame and hang it in an art gallery. There are some amazing shots, such seeing the character through a long lens, through the lettering on a shop window. Colors are fantastic. The long speech by Weisz at a nighttime bus stop seems to be done all in one take and is nothing short of courageous. There is a small amount of CGI, used artistically and perfectly. Even the editing is creative. The sound track is wonderful, with Jones singing softly, but also with original work by Ry Cooder. This is moviemaking at its best. The only criticism is that the storyline is weak to non-existent and the pace is slow. I was never bored, but this film cannot go up against a superhero flick. It’s all about the characters and their relationships, not some contrived plot.

There Will Be Blood: Grade B

B
There Will Be Blood (2007)
Daniel Day Lewis, Paul Dano. Writer (screenplay) & director: Paul Thomas Anderson.

There is no blood. This mis-titled movie is about oil, or rather about one particular oilman (Lewis) in the early years of 20th century California. He is a psychopathic, greedy egomaniac who buys farms and drills them for oil, along the way alienating everyone he meets. He shoots a man who pretends to be his long lost half brother, threatens others, beats up still others. He is humiliated by, and finally humiliates in return, a country preacher (Dano). The preacher's character is just as crazy and self-obsessed as the oilman's but Dano gives a fascinating rendition of a complex person who has some inner life, unlike Lewis' character. Finally the oilman retires wealthy, lonely, still angry, and unenlightened. There is no plot, and little dramatic tension. The oilman’s character never changes, so this 2.5 hour film is merely a depiction of early oil exploration in California. Its virtues are visual, the wide open spaces, the men sweating to build and operate wooden derricks. (Women are nonentities in this film). The opening 10 minute mini-drama is accomplished without any dialog and is the best part of the movie.

Lewis’ acting is widely acclaimed (won best actor), but I thought it was just adequate. Since his character is psychopathically unpredictable, who can tell if the acting is good or not? The dialog for all characters was stilted, strangely formal. No contractions are used and everyone says “yes,” never “yup” or “yeh.” There were numerous linguistic anachronisms as well. The music, rich, varied, and full orchestra, was exceptionally beautiful, but completely disconnected from the rest of the movie, as if a high-dollar composer was hired to show his or her stuff, without having read the screenplay. This movie has been vastly overrated, yet it is worth seeing, for the good scenery, sets, costumes, and plausible historical description.

Across the Universe: Grade A

A
Across the Universe (2007)
Evan Rachel Wood, Jim Sturgess, Joe Anderson, Dana Fuchs, with Eddie Izzard, Bono, Joe Cocker, and Salma Hayek. Director Julie Taymor

This is not a Beatles movie but a traditional Grease-like musical about the late 1960’s in America, using exclusively Beatles songs. Director Taymor Surveyed 200 songs in the Beatles’ catalog owned by Sony (this is a Sony movie), and arranged a dozen of them to fit a conventional a romance (boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl), set against Vietnam war protests. A young factory worker from Liverpool (Sturgess) comes to New York and falls in love with a girl (Wood) who is working with an anti-war movement. Her brother (Anderson) is drafted and there are antiwar marches, protests and riots until the protagonist is arrested and deported.

The characters sing their way through these events, giving the Beatles’ songs shocking new meanings. For example, Strawberry Fields has Sturgess’ character, a graphic artist, squeezing metaphorical blood from fresh strawberries against images juxtaposed from the war. An animated war poster of Uncle Sam sings, “I Want You” and that morphs into a mind-boggling reconceptualization of “She’s So Heavy.” As that song evolves a fantastic piece of choreography develops in an Army induction center. “Let it Be” becomes a song of utter despair when it is sung in the midst of the Detroit riots of 1967. As for “Happiness is a Warm Gun,” well, it demonstrates the stunning scope of Taymor’s imagination. It’s hard to believe this is the same director who filmed Shakespeare’s Titus Andronicus so brilliantly a few years ago.

There is no attempt to recreate the lives, voices and sounds of the Beatles, which would be impossible anyway. Yet the visuals acknowledge landmarks in the well-known Beatles’ story. Eddie Izzard does a show-stopping, Sargeant Pepper-esque number with giant Blue Meanies (alluding to Yellow Submarine). Bono leads a psychedelic crowd seeking a guru in the countryside, in a stereotypical but still beautiful solarized and color-manipulated segment. Yoko-like characters swim underwater. The movie is rich with musical and cultural allusions that survivors of the era and fans of the Beatles will appreciate.

The music is lovingly sung, usually at a slower tempo than we remember, which highlights the beauty of the songs. Their complex production has been excised, revealing stark melodic purity. The singers perform them organically, from the heart, again making the audience reconceptualize them. The young unknown actors are very talented, especially Sturgess. His rendition of the title song makes it completely new. I think if I had not come of age with the music, I still would be enraptured by the brilliance of this movie.

La Vie En Rose: Grade D

D
La Vie En Rose (2007)
Marion Cotillard, Sylvie Testud; Co-writer and director: Oliver Dahan. (French, subtitled)

Cotillard gives a convincing portrayal of French chanteuse Edith Piaf, who was enormously popular in Europe and America from the 1930’s through the 1950’s. My high school French teacher used to play her records for the class, so the songs are familiar and nostalgic to me, although I did not realize until I saw this movie how perfect Piaf’s diction really was and that is probably why the teacher played the tunes. Cotillard lip syncs the songs perfectly, and the songs and “the voice” are the reason I give this movie a pass. There is nothing else to recommend it. Nearly every scene is indoors and the lighting is so dark, as if everything were lit by cheap candles. Walls are green and brown. Costumes are green and brown. Shadows are deep. Look at the DVD cover. The whole look of the movie is murky and muddy. Though Piaf sang through two world wars, there is little sense of history or geography. The unnecessarily zooming and panning camera is often distracting to the action. Acting is only adequate. Even Cotillard, who gives a 100% performance, is bound by the tedious, melodramatic script. The narrative alternates between scenes of adult aging and childhood flashbacks, which is interesting but goes on for an unjustified 2 hours and 10 minutes, with numerous scenes apparently designed only for tear-jerk potential. She was raised in a brothel, how awful. As a child she was blinded by an eye inflammation for months, how awful. But these scenes and many like them contribute nothing to our understanding of the character. The adult Piaf never refers to them, and the filmmakers never suggest that they had any effect whatsoever on her. So why are they in the movie? At the end of this biopic, I know next to nothing about Edith Piaf except she liked to sing, drank too much, and was lonesome. That could describe a lot of people. There is nothing here that explains the great Piaf-Piaf.

Outsourced: Grade B

B
Outsourced (2006)
Josh Hamilton, Ayesha Dharker. Co-writer and Director John Jeffcoat.

In this charming indie, a Seattle call center manager (Hamilton) is forced to go to India to train his own replacement when the whole call center is outsourced. We follow his learning curve as he encounters every culture-shock cliché, from stomach cramps to understanding the Indian English accent. He quickly adapts and is successful putting together an all-Indian call center that meets American specs. While overcoming a succession of tribulations he has a fleeting romance with an Indian employee (Dharker). The ethical implications of that are not explored. The issue of outsourcing is handled with kid gloves on a ten foot pole. It is made out to be not so bad, really.

Without a political message or serious romance, what remains is a mildly comic, cross-cultural exploration whose lack of pretension makes it delightful and actually informative. For anyone who has traveled in India beyond the international hotels, each scene brings a knowing smile, although the humor is never disrespectful of either culture. The acting is compelling across the whole cast. The script has a sharp observational wit. The music, all original compositions, is quite enjoyable if you have an ear for Indian music. The cinematography fills the four corners of the screen with color. Although it is a lightweight film, the director is successful in conveying the sense that despite cultural differences “we are all family,” and that’s what makes the film satisfying.

Three Days of Rain: Grade A

A
Three Days of Rain (2003)
Peter Falk, Blythe Danner, Lyle Lovett, Don Meredith; Writer-Director Michael Meredith.

I stumbled upon this older DVD in my video store and I’m glad I did. It’s an indie presenting several small dramas connected only by the fact that they all take place during a three day rainstorm in Cleveland. The dramas are supposedly inspired by six Chekhov stories. In all but one the main character is down and out, struggling, desperately and hopelessly, it seems to us, to right the ship of life. An aging alcoholic lives in a shelter but maintains his fantasy of being a dapper player, but is forced to ask his son for money. A young drug addict visits her infant daughter in foster care with her father, a father who abused her as a child. She fears the worst for her daughter. A ceramic tile artist/contractor is broke, has an eviction notice, and tries to collect on a job he did for a woman who will not engage him but directs him to her accountant. In one story, the down-and-outer is a homeless man who asks a rich couple for their restaurant leftovers. The husband has a compassionate reaction but the wife keeps an alienated emotional distance from the beggar and refuses. That fracture grows into a crack in their relationship. The stories are two-dimensional, as short stories are, because there is no time to develop any texture, so they use obvious and well-understood character conflicts, nothing subtle. Still, what makes this movie great is the loving, sensuous photography and the hypnotic jazz music that plays throughout (Joe Lovano “and friends” perform original music by Bob Belden, in a bluesy style suitable to rain). Add to that fine acting and competent directing, and you have a real winner.