Category Archives: New In Theaters

Reviews of what’s out now

Working for the Weekend

Two Days, One Night

by Hope Madden

A woman wakes from a nap due to a phone call. She’s baking for the kids. It seems like a lovely way to spend your afternoon, really, drowsy and surrounded by the smell of baked goods. So why does Sandra (Oscar-nominated Marion Cotillard) sound defensive about the nap and too enthusiastic about the treats with whoever is on the phone?

Because there are layers and layers to the most ordinary of circumstances, a point Two Days, One Night explores so effectively.

Sandra’s co-workers were faced with a vote: each stands to gain a large bonus in return for eliminating one salary – Sandra’s. She has the weekend to convince them to give up their bonus and save her job.

If it sounds contrived, rest assured that writing/directing brothers Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne embrace their characteristically naturalistic style to great effect. The films lacks any hint of melodrama, thanks in part to the brothers’ honest style and in greater part to a lead performance utterly absent of artificiality.

Cotillard is a master, and this film is no exception, it’s a highlight. Her gestures, her gaze, her posture, every syllable of dialogue simply convince you this is a woman fighting for her dignity as well as her job. She’s aided by a large, capable cast and buoyed by the Dardennes’ fly-on-the-wall camera work.

The film has larger goals, looking at ideas as concrete as corporate indifference, as amorphous as depression, and as grand as human nature. Grounding all this examination in the intimate and mundane details of one woman’s struggle keeps the film anchored in the reality so precious to the filmmakers.

Two Days, One Night is not as touching as the Dardennes’ Kid with a Bike or as gripping as L’Enfant – two of their finest efforts. It feels more contrived than those films, its craftsmanship more obvious. But Sandra’s challenge and her personal journey are so beautifully articulated that you won’t care. The film is a small, potent wonder.

Verdict-4-0-Stars

Dangerous Waters

Pioneer

by Hope Madden

Pioneer braids claustrophobia, conspiracy and political intrigue to create a compelling, often uncomfortable thriller. Set in 1980 Norway, the film follows a Norwegian/American collaboration to create an oil pipeline at then-unattempted depths.

Norway is eager to own the project and, by extension, the oil itself, but they need American “know how” to train divers to work at depths of up to 500 meters. Tragedy strikes, and one diver puzzles through layers of deception, cover up, greed and corporate shenanigans to uncover its cause.

Director Erik Skjoldbjaerg crafts a tight but rich thriller, thanks in part to the savvy work of cinematographer Jallo Faber. His camera heightens every sensation: the paranoia of being followed, the thrill of the chase, the lead character’s panic. More effective than anything is the way Skjoldbjaerg and Faber develop tension by exploiting the sinking, oppressive claustrophobic nightmare of the depths.

The look of the film is also spot-on for its time period, but without a compelling story, all the set decoration and camera tricks in the world couldn’t keep you interested. Co-scriptor Skjoldbjaerg – working with a team of writers – keeps you in the head of diver Petter (a wonderful Aksel Hennie). You feel his confusion, empathize with his desperation, and work out the details as he does.

It’s a cagey approach, one that works as well as it does because of Hennie’s keen performance. The solution to the mystery is always just out of reach, which can’t help but compel attention.

The supporting cast is very large, though it boasts a few standout performances. Wes Bentley is fun in a change of pace role as an American thug diver and Ane Dal Torp’s enigmatic performance is weirdly fascinating.

Ensemble mystery/thrillers can be hard to stay on top of, especially if they’re primarily foreign language efforts. While Pioneer is never impossible to follow, it can get slippery here and there. On the whole, though, it’s a suspenseful surprise.

Verdict-3-5-Stars

Magoo Meets Clouseau

Mortdecai

by George Wolf

It’s high time we stopped clutching our pearls and wondering “what happened to Johnny Depp?” The man likes just likes playing eccentric characters, so Mortdecai fits the bill.

Eccentric? Surely.

Droll? Quite right.

Funny? Um, no.

Based on the novel “Don’t Point That Thing at Me,” the film finds Depp as Charlie Mortdecai, English art dealer and all-around bumbling scoundrel. He’s part Magoo, part Bean, and once a famous painting goes missing, a heavy dose of Clouseau.

He and and Mrs. M (Gwyneth Paltrow) are living large but deep in debt, when the British secret service offers a possible way out. Someone in America has been secretly deflating footballs right before the big game, and…oh, wait that’s something else.

Mortdecai must track down a priceless masterpiece before it winds up in the wrong hands, and the convoluted plot involves jet-setting, mustache infatuation and multiple instances of “sympathetic gag reflex.” Director David Koepp tries hard to inject some pizzaz, but Eric Aronson’s script feels more like a rough draft than a finished product.

The film’s saving grace (well, besides the casting of Olivia Munn as a nymphomaniac) is, of course, Depp. He’s a perfect example of great timing in search of some comedy, and he delivers a fully realized performance that manages, against some pretty long odds, to give Mortdecai its few moments of charm.

 

Verdict-2-0-Stars

 

 

Not Too Sweet

Cake

by Hope Madden

Jennifer Aniston has spent the last couple years shedding her golden-girl-next-door image with bawdy comedy roles in the Horrible Bosses franchise and We Are the Millers, as well as a handful of indie flicks. Through the journey she’s successfully mined new area in comedy, but her latest, Cake, shows she has unplumbed depths of talent in drama as well.

Aniston plays Claire. Suffering with chronic pain as well as deep emotional scars, Claire is a self-described raging bitch. Acid tongued and brutally frank, she’s not a favorite with her support group. Or with her physical therapist. Or with much of anybody, really, until she develops an unlikely (and highly contrived) relationship with the widower of another support group member (Sam Worthington).

The film, directed by Daniel Barnz (Beastly), wants to meander through Claire’s unconventional journey, allowing events and details to evolve sloppily, as they do in life. But it doesn’t succeed. Instead, it creates a highly unlikely series of coincidences and relies on Aniston’s formidable performance to make the linkages feel both natural and surprising.

He’s treading similar ground as John Cameron Mitchell’s poignant 2010 effort Rabbit Hole, but Cake suffers a great deal by comparison. Barnz and screenwriter Patrick Tobin are trying too hard. Their scenes feel forced, the relationships inauthentic.

Aniston, on the other hand, is as real as she can be. Her performance is unapologetic, as it should be. Grief isn’t flexible. It doesn’t change shape or appearance just to make the people around it more comfortable. Aniston understands this character, what she’s going through and why she’s behaving as she is, and she doesn’t judge her. More importantly, she doesn’t give a shit if you do.

Her supporting cast is stocked with talent, but only the great Adriana Barraza gets the opportunity to build a real character with a real relationship to Claire. And while even Aniston relies heavily on the words on the page, Barraza can convey everything she needs with a wearied look or a reluctant gesture.

We know Aniston’s cute, but the truth is, she has been proving herself a genuine talent for years. Unfortunately, she made far too many far too safe choices as the adorable romantic lead, and they did not pay off.

Now she’s taking real chances, and though Cake is not an exceptional film, Aniston’s performance is a revelation.

Verdict-3-0-Stars

Sometimes When We Punch

Manny

by George Wolf

So, has Mayweather agreed to fight Pacquiao yet? While we’re waiting, which member of the U.S. Congress do you think would be most likely to get in the ring and/or croon 70s yacht rock ballads?

These are some of the questions brought to mind by Manny, a surprisingly rich and entertaining look at the life of boxing champion Manny Pacquiao.

Pacquiao, the only fighter in history to win titles in eight different weight classes, grew up dirt poor in the Philippines, surrounded by constant violence from the civil war that raged during the 1980s. He ran away while still a young boy, lied about his age and started fighting. Fame, fortune, and national hero status would follow.

Co-director James Gast knows his way around a sports documentary, but while his Oscar-winning When We Were Kings studied one legendary bout (Ali/Foreman 1974), here the focus is one eclectic personality. Charismatic and outgoing, Pacquiao has tried acting, singing, and been elected to Congress in his home nation – all while continuing to rack up victories.

The pace is bright and brisk, keeping you entertained with the many facets of Manny, but leaving little time for sidebars even when they’re warranted. Shady promotional practices are questioned, forgotten, then questioned again and..what are Mark Wahlberg and Jeremy Piven doing here again?

Liam Neeson’s narration leans toward the overly dramatic, which ultimately feels right for a film anchored in the hyperbolic world of boxing. It is Pacquiao himself who proudly proclaims “I came from nowhere and now I am everywhere,” and when you see him in a recording studio cutting a version of “Sometimes When We Touch” with original artist Dan Hill, you can’t help but agree.

 

Verdict-3-5-Stars

 

Song Sung Blue

Song One

By George Wolf

Song One is a lot like the indie folk music that permeates it: pleasant, well-intentioned, and a bit bland.

Anne Hathaway stars as Franny, an anthropology student working overseas who must rush back home to New York after a family tragedy. Her brother Henry, an aspiring musician, is struck by a cab while walking in traffic, and Franny returns to find him in a coma, fighting for his life.

Searching Henry’s apartment for familiar items that might help revive him, Franny finds concert tickets to see a folkie named James Forester (Johnny Flynn). She attends the show, and waits in the autograph line to tell Forester about her brother’s admiration for him. The conversation sparks a sweet friendship, and James is soon visiting Henry and hanging out with Franny and her ex-hippie mom (Mary Steenburgen).

Will friendship turn to romance? Will James find inspiration to cure his songwriter’s block? Bet you can guess.

It’s the debut feature for writer/director Kate Barker-Froyland, and predictability is not what ultimately keeps Song One from resonating. Yes, the terrain is plenty familiar, but this love letter to the power of music suffers most from contrivance and precious few powerful moments.

Flynn’s performance is tender but tentative, and though is he obviously a talented musician, the original songs elicit little more than the nod you give that guy at a party who suddenly finds a guitar. He’s in way over his head alongside Hathaway, who dials it down but can’t keep her natural talent from casting a big shadow over her co star.

There is some promise here. The film is well shot and Barker-Froyland often seems to sense how thin the drama is, pumping it up with enough good intentions to keep any eye-rolling at bay. When her storytelling talent catches up with her technical skills, then she may have a hit on her hands.

 

Verdict-2-5-Stars

 

 

I Don’t

The Wedding Ringer

by Hope Madden

Kevin Hart bears a terrible burden in Hollywood. After salvaging a number of mediocre-to-poor films by sheer virtue of his manic comic talent, Hart has been sentenced to a lifetime of awful scripts and off-peak release dates. Got a weak-to-terrible comedy? Stick Hart in it and release it in January when there’s nothing else to see. Maybe it can be the next Ride Along.

Such is the case with The Wedding Ringer. In what amounts to I Love You, Man meets Hitch, Hart plays a best man for hire. Josh Gad plays the lovable dork about to marry up who has no friends to speak of. He needs to drum up 7 groomsmen to keep from admitting his loserhood to his bride-to-be (Kaley Cuoco-Sweeting).

Oh, but it’s more than that. The Wedding Ringer is the cautionary tale of a man who failed to uphold the sacred man-vow: bros before hos.

How quickly you tire of The Wedding Ringer depends largely on your tolerance for gay jokes and misogynistic humor. Even if you’re a big fan of both, eventually the film’s lazy scripting, derivative plotting and general mean-spiritedness will likely turn you off. It’s hard to believe this dreck came from the same writing/directing team that brought us The Break Up – hardly a masterpiece, but at least a competently written and well acted comedy.

To be fair, this film contains a handful of real laughs, and Hart and Gad – another proven comic talent – have genuine chemistry. But every gag drags on minutes longer than necessary, and most zag into territory too unimaginative to be provocative in its tastelessness.

What if a romantic (or, in this case, bro-mantic) comedy chose not to depict the story of a schlubby guy who deserves help to nab a vacuous hottie? What if, instead, the film paired this decent, funny, worthy-if-overweight and nerdy fella with an equally overweight, worthy, decent woman? I would die of a coronary, that’s what would happen – but I’m probably safe, because where in Hollywood would they find the female lead?

A good movie for Kevin Hart may be just as unlikely, but I would love to see what he could do with a decent script.

 

Verdict-1-5-Stars

Ass Hat Also Works

Blackhat

by Hope Madden

It’s early. Too early to get excited. Blackhat will face a lot of competition as 2015 journeys onward, but it is as strong a contender for worst film of the year as any movie could be. Jesus, is it bad.

Yes, it’s January and the film is about hackers – that’s two big strikes against any major studio film. Remind me, when was the last time a cybercrime film was interesting? You can squeeze only so much tension from shots of fingers on a keyboard and anxious expressions reflecting the blue light of a computer screen. Worse still are those self-indulgent shots of the digital journey inside the hardware – kind of the Tron’s eye view. Unfortunately, director Michael Mann has nothing fresher than these ideas up his sleeve.

Chris Hemsworth plays the world’s greatest hacker, because hackers generally look like Chris Hemsworth. So, right there, authenticity is clearly key to the once capable Mann. As it happens, the Chinese and US governments are working together to solve a convoluted – even asinine – cybercrime, and they need the help of this uncharacteristically fit computer nerd, so they furlough him from prison. If he helps them catch the baddies, he’s free; if not, it’s back to the pen, and something tells me he’s pretty popular on the inside.

Bonus: he’s an expert marksman. Who knew? Must be all those first-person shooter games.

Hemsworth affects some kind of diluted Bronx accent – is that it? Boy, it’s hard to tell just what he’s trying to do with it, and in another film that would be a real distraction. But Blackhat is so loaded with bewildering ridiculousness – from the needlessly overwrought visual style to the utterly incompetent sound editing to the laughable storyline to the astonishingly weak and wooden performances – that an awkwardly unrealistic accent goes almost unnoticed.

Thor isn’t outright terrible, and that’s a real feat. Even the great Viola Davis chokes on this screenplay, and the usually solid Wei Tang (Lust, Caution) struggles too mightily with English to deliver a professional performance. Still, all three are outshone by the listless to the point of parody work of Leehom Wang.

It has been ten long years since Michael Mann made a good movie. The real distinction of his newest effort is simply that it is his worst.

Verdict-1-0-Star

No Absolutes

American Sniper

by George Wolf

Clint Eastwood has the reputation of a low maintenance, “let’s not overthink this” type of director. Sometimes that’s much too apparent, with films lacking in structure, passion and detail.

American Sniper is not one of those films.

This one is tense, heartfelt, wise and weighty, driven by a revelatory lead performance and crafted by a director deeply invested in doing justice to his subject.

It’s based on the autobiography of Chris Kyle, the Navy SEAL credited with being “the deadliest sniper in American history.” The very nature of the story is rife with opportunities for manipulation, be them jingoistic or judgmental, but credit Eastwood and screenwriter Jason Hall with sidestepping them all.

They grab you by the throat with a breathless opening, then expertly work alternating periods of deafening brutality and quiet stillness. In fact, the silence in American Sniper could be easily be regarded as part of the original score, as it is utilized just as effectively as any stirring music.

As Kyle, Bradley Cooper is astonishing and a well-deserved Oscar nominee. Anyone who still thinks he’s just a pretty boy needs to put down People magazine and pay attention to the career Cooper’s been putting together. He’s turned in one stellar, varied performance after another the last few years, and here he commands the screen like never before.

More than just adding weight or adopting Kyle’s Texas drawl, Cooper completely embodies Kyle from the inside out. We see his early determination to fight America’s enemies just as sincerely as we feel the paradox of a man ravaged by the battlefield who can’t feel at home anywhere else. Eastwood smartly gives Cooper many tight close ups and the actor doesn’t flinch, letting his face speak volumes on duty and conflict.

Are there sad ironies in the fact that many who were driven to military service by the events of 9/11 were sent to Iraq? Of course, but this is not the film to explore them, or appease those who will be satisfied only if Kyle is painted as a merciless monster or, conversely, an untouchable hero.  By avoiding these absolutes, American Sniper becomes a gripping look at the other side of The Hurt Locker. It’s an intensely personal story that manages to feel like part of America’s very fabric without selling its soul to do so.

Verdict-4-0-Stars

The Master Returns

Inherent Vice

by Hope Madden

Where Inherent Vice most succeeds is in proving that both Joaquin Phoenix and filmmaker Paul Thomas Anderson can do anything.

Phoenix and Anderson collaborated on their 2012 masterpiece The Master, but the spawn of their latest partnership couldn’t be any more different. You know Phoenix – brooding, troubled, powerful – but comedic? Likeable? Sort of weirdly adorable, even?

That’s what you’ll find in this film.

Phoenix plays Larry “Doc” Sportello, an inebriated private detective working LA in 1970. Sweeter than Hunter S. Thompson, edgier than Dude Lebowski, Doc swims in the vaporous haze of every drug he can grab while he muddles through a series of interconnected and apparently non-paying cases.

Though the screen mostly brims with light hearted debauchery, expect a handful of truly powerful, even difficult scenes. Such tonal shifts can become cinematic weaknesses, but in hands like Anderson’s they pull in the darkness that underlies the choice or circumstances that delivers a person to this life on the fringes.

It comes as no surprise that Anderson can work magic where other directors might falter; the man’s a flawless filmmaker. He’s never made a film that was anything shy of brilliant. Even the Coen brothers made a handful of only-adequate films (The Hudsucker Proxy, The Ladykillers, Intolerable Cruelty). Not Anderson.

Not only can he direct, he can cast. Inherent Vice is an ensemble piece boasting a host of memorable if often tiny (and in some cases possibly imaginary) roles. Reese Witherspoon is a stitch as a straight laced assistant DA. She has a soft spot for loopy hippie PI’s, but draws the line at dirty feet.

Equally fun are Owen Wilson, Benicio Del Toro, Jena Malone and Martin Short. (Martin Short!) But Josh Brolin steals the show.

What each is doing can be a bit fuzzy, but then Doc’s usually a bit fuzzy, and therein lies the genius of this film. It opens, hardboiled noir-style, with a dame from the past showing up on this dick’s doormat with a story to peddle and a request to make.

But from there, puzzling out the details and conspiracies becomes as tough for the viewer as it is for the detective because Doc is as high as a kite.

Rather than a true mystery, the film offers a wonderful image of the political, social and cultural tensions of an era without pointing out that intention. It’s nutty, brilliant stuff.

Verdict-4-0-Stars