Rudderless

As Sam Manning (Billy Crudup, Watchmen, Big Fish), having just landed the big deal, walks into a sports bar eager to celebrate with his son Josh a news story catches his attention. A shooting had taken place at his son’s college. The heart swells into his throat as he can only idly watch his worst fears come true.

Two years have passed since his son’s death and Sam’s life has spiraled. No longer living the ritzy life of an advertising executive, he now makes a living painting houses. One day, his now ex-wife brings him a box of Josh’s old stuff, among which are a number of CD’s containing the music his son made before his death, Sam starts playing the songs himself as a way to reconnect with his son.

“Rudderless,” the name of the band that Sam eventually joins, certainly has a haunting quality that keeps audiences invested. The emotional magnitude of the film is well buoyed by the folksy soundtrack as well as the overall wistful tone. As a tragically topical and relatable issue, it is certainly a film that will hit everyone’s sentimental core.

The film is also the directorial debut of William H. Macy (Shameless, The Sessions) who also has a small part as the bar owner where Sam plays. There are definitely praise-worthy attributes to Macy’s effort, such as a clever use of the soundtrack to makes for seamless pacing. However, for the most part, there was nothing from a directorial standpoint that stood out. That is not to say “Rudderless” was directed poorly, just rather safely.

As much as this movie stuck with me on an emotional level, I really wished that the film would have dug a little deeper into the complexity of grief. Instead of providing a thorough exploration how both individuals and communities negotiate with trauma, “Rudderless” only wades into issue. For a film concerned with meditating on the trials of loss and catharsis, it never really does enough to provide truly novel insight into an issue that is plaguing our society.

I’ll call this a bit of a warm up for Macy’s directing career. He certainly didn’t bite off more than he could chew with this project, but didn’t do more than was asked of him. Macy got his sea legs for the directors chair and hopefully he’ll be more courageous with his choices for his next film. It would be a shame to see him move forward completely rudderless.   

The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby

As Eleanor Rigby (Jessica Chastain, Zero Dark Thirty, Lawless) walks across the bridge there’s clearly something amiss. We don’t know what, but as she casually leaves her bike and continues her pace out of frame it’s the startled yell of a passerby and a faint splash that tells us where she ends up. We still don’t know why, even as her husband Conor (James McAvoy, Trance, X-Men: Days of Future Past) rushes into her hospital room, only to find her asleep.

It’s the audience’s beginning tug on the sweater of Eleanor and Connor’s marriage, chronicled in the “Them” chapter of “The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby.” Originally slated as two movies, (called “Him” and “Her”) they’ve since been recut into one.* It’s a slow-boil that recounts the couple’s story, especially as they study the shards of their relationship without an obvious focus. Eleanor returns to school, moves in with family, and refuses to even discuss Conor. In turn, Conor picks fights as he obsesses over his failed marriage and his failing restaurant business as he moves home to his own father’s house.

There’s an elegance to the way first-time director/writer Ned Benson frames the story. Though it may be quiet and unhurried — often taking its time to show off its cinematography skills as it circles backward and forward through time — it speaks volumes about processing grief, love, and how different expressions of those. The whole thing gives a sense of intricate plotting, but still carries the heavy burden of authenticity behind its emotion.

The film owes a lot to its lead actors, who carry their characters with a kind of unassuming heartbreak. They’re equally developed, whole characters with flaws and negativities that simultaneously balance each other out while also feeding on the other’s self-destruction.

As companion pieces Benson could’ve made a theatrical statement; the man vs. the woman, Kramer vs. Kramer, the variability of “Clue” meets the emotional nuance of “Boyhood.” But as a fusion, the result is a beautiful contrast between two volatile adults.

Though their problems may, at first, reek of advantage, of well-off, white, New Yorkers who can afford to take a step back from their lives, there’s a reserved sorrow that’s subtly woven throughout the film that everyone can relate to. The ethereal air of going through the motions after trauma and searching for something next to normal creates a reverent tone from start to finish, until finally the screen fades to black, and you’re stuck waiting for him and her.

*There’s talk of these being released to art house theaters soon/already, if you’re in New York. But there’s no word of it in Seattle yet. Once it does, expect a Deja Review from us, because when I found out this wasn’t based on a book I felt robbed of experiencing this story more.

The Drop

It’s almost as if Dennis Lehane novels are becoming more famous for their film adaptations rather than the books themselves. Not that I think he’s complaining; his books have become modern film classics such “Gone Baby Gone,” “Mystic River,” and “Shutter Island.” His provocative and complex narrative style makes for great screenplay material and now his latest adaptation, “The Drop,” is more than ready to join the ranks.

The drop is a term that refers to a business that the mob will use as a bank to launder all of their dirty cash. The location of the titular drop is a bar run by Bob Saginowski (Tom Hardy, Locke, The Dark Knight Rises) and Cousin Marv portrayed by the late James Gandolfini (The Sopranos, Killing Them Softly).  Marv had once owned the bar, but when it was taken over by the Chechen mafia he has been charged with the task of laundering the mob’s money. Everything is business as usual until a pair of robbers steal the mob’s money from the bar, pulling both Marv and Bob deeper into the seedy criminal world.

Much like his other adaptations, “The Drop” is predicated on a tightly coiled narrative over any sort of flash. With a relatively small budget, there aren’t any set pieces in the film, but engrossing regardless largely thanks to a methodically layered narrative. The movie is certainly a slow burn, but there is never a dull moment as each scene slowly pieces together a much greater whole.

The most compelling part of the film lies in the interesting characterization of each person that passes through bar. There is nothing much that sets some of these characters apart from your traditional stock characters, but each character appears to be withholding information.  It’s this subtle secrecy that hangs over each seen that piques are intrigue and makes for a well composed thriller.  

This sentiment is well portrayed in the three headliners Hardy, Gandolfini, and very underused Noomi Rapace (Prometheus, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo), but there definitely has to be some credit doled out to the supporting performances of Matthias Schoenaerts (Bullhead, Rust and Bone) as the unstable Eric Leeds and John Ortiz (Silver Linings Playbook, Fast and Furious 6) as the tough as nails Detective Torres. Although the three leads definitely provide the framework for the film, it’s the performances by Schoenaers and Ortiz that provide the little details that really makes this thriller tick.
Fresh off his Oscar Nomination for his 2011 “Bullhead,” Belgian director Michaël R. Roskam has definitely demonstrated he is not a one-hit wonder and has legitimate staying power. His gritty aesthetic and intricately planned narratives make him an exciting up-and-comer and leaves me eager for his works to come.  

Certainly, the fall thriller market will be dominated by “Gone Girl,” but it is certainly not the only thriller to see out there. “The Drop” has a mysterious and mesmerizing quality that has a simply irresistible pull. You’re just going to have to drop in to see for yourself.  

Jimi: All is By My Side

It’s weird to think about Jimi Hendrix (Outkast’s Andre 3000) being just another guy trying to pay the bills, but before he was discovered by Linda Keith (Imogen Poots, Need for Speed) that’s all he was. “All is by My Side” chronicles the year before Hendrix set fire to the stage in Monterey (literally).

Back then he was just a struggling musician who got noticed by the right person. The Hendrix estate was not consulted at all for the making of the film. Consequently, the movie paints a somewhat uneven and unusual picture of the guitar god. At times the flick feels more like a mood piece than a coherent film based on someone’s life. It borders on tedious; sometimes seeming like just a series of conversations that are flashes into the life of a music icon.

But there’s something intriguing about the experience of a biopic that strays from the obligatory mythologizing and dips into candid snapshots — for better or for worse. Here we see Jimi Hendrix, the man, through a sort of unwieldy temperament that would do its protagonist proud.

Ultimately it’s too long and unfocused to handle its lofty goals. Writer/director John Ridley (who also penned the script for 12 Years a Slave) made the decision to live by Hendrix’s “come what may” lifestyle. Andre 3000 nails the rambling style of Hendrix’s cadence, but there’s not enough agency there for the audience to stay invested in. Part of what made Hendrix a household name was the spontaneity and creativity. Those feelings are all there — and would make for a nice subversion of the stale biopic formula — but without Jimi’s full energy this film won’t be remembered like its leading man.  

The Giver

Show me a movie based on a young adult novel that captures the voice in a simple, mature way, and I’ll show you a surprised critic. Probably a panel of them. But that doesn’t always mean it’s a bad film, which is something worth remembering that, going into a film like “The Giver.”

Based off the famous 1993 novel by Lois Lowry, it follows Jonas (Brenton Thwaites, Maleficent, Oculus) through the utopian future he lives in. There’s no war, there’s no strife, there’s no pain. In its place is sameness, and a society run by elders (headed by Meryl Streep, The Devil Wears Prada, Doubt) that — nicely — governs the lives of its citizens so thoroughly it observes them and then assigns them a job when they come of age.

And so Jonas passively accepts his new role to take over for the current Receiver of Memories (Jeff Bridges, The Big Lebowski, True Grit), a rare position that he’s warned will cause pain and isolate him from the rest of society.

Next to a veteran like Bridges — an actor whose permanent disposition is followed by his own drummer — Thwaites’ Jonas seems even more like a sheep getting the wool out of its eyes. As he’s exposed to his first taste of difference, color, and life beyond the society, there’s more and more of Bridges’ natural-Dude persona oozes out of him. His mannerisms are caught somewhere between the actor’s showmanship and the movie’s (intentional, I’m guessing) forced acting. Bridges walks the line the best, staying believable but not revolutionary to the societal norms, where others can’t quite break out of their two-dimensional boxes.

Like most teen films it won’t win any awards for acting. The script just isn’t there for the actors to grow from, but, importantly, the skeleton of the book is. Sure, there’s the compulsorily added romance and action sequence, and ultimately the insightful magic of the novel gets lost in translation. But that’s it. “The Giver” clearly has its heart in the right place (the novel) even if the messages can’t quite be broadcasted in the same way. Director Phillip Noyce has a solid grip on the simple, visual grace of the world; using color and flashbacks to effectively communicate to the audience whether they read the book or not. It’s a shame the Hollywood packaging can’t quite give it enough staying power the novel had.

Sin City: A Dame to Kill For

Is there anything more heartbreaking than a gorgeous film that can’t live up to its graphics? Probably. But as we watch Joseph Gordon-Levitt (Looper, Brick) drive down into Sin City, it’s hard not to let the excitement build up beyond what the movie ends up fulfilling.

His chapter is just one of many in Robert Rodriguez and Frank Miller’s co-directed return to Sin City. “A Dame to Kill For” follows a pattern similar to the first one: three stories clenched together with dark scenes and stunning graphics in Basin City. Gordon-Levitt plays Johnny, the new kid on the block who’s set to take the spot of Sin City’s highest roller. Meanwhile Dwight (Josh Brolin, Guardians of the Galaxy, No Country for Old Men) chases after the dame broad that stole his heart, while elsewhere Nancy (Jessica Alba, Machete, Sin City) loses herself in life post John Hartigan (Bruce Willis, Moonrise Kingdom, Die Hard), who (nine-year-old spoilers) died protecting her in the first “Sin City.”

All three sagas are told in serial form, just like its prequel. Except where the former managed to glide — or at least distract — with its sleek graphics and creative storytelling, “Sin City: A Dame to Kill For” misses its mark. The movie is sluggish, weighed down by the amount of attempted grit that peeks through with every move. Though it picks up a bit in the middle, the film feels more like a parody than an homage — except nobody told Rodriguez and Miller.

Maybe it’s too much to expect from a film (or maybe, more accurately, Miller) that’s constantly harkening back to the gritty days of noir to have better treatment of women. But the film is irresponsible at best. Gone are the highlighted femme fatales of old, back are the damsels. They may not always be in distress, but they always need a man — either to sexualize or complete them. The first one at least felt it needed to justify when someone (a woman) dies; “A Dame to Kill For” practically keeps a score card.

Sure, it was all probably there in “Sin City.” But with “Sin City: A Dame to Kill For” the formula feels devoid of the energy that was there; stale in a way that feels more like trashy pulp than the slow-boiled noir of its predecessor.

Some say fans of the original “Sin City” flick won’t be disappointed, and certainly those hoping to return to the grungy city and its vivid visuals won’t be. But for anyone looking for the wit and artistry of the first “Sin City” keep looking. It may be “A Dame to Kill For,” but by the end it just feels like a two-hour exercise in male bravado.

Under the Skin

Most people would probably not turn down an invitation to go home with Scarlett Johansson. But most people would also not expect Scarlett Johansson to be an alien out to harvest human organs. That provocative notion is the exact premise of Jonathan Glazer’s, Under the Skin.

As could be inferred from the premise the best word to describe the film would be unsettling, and Glazer certainly deploys all the cinematic techniques in his arsenal to reach the desired ambiance. The visuals are bold and terrifying, using blaring lights and criss shadows that pain us to watch but find difficult to look away. He is also able to able to contrast that with more muted grey palettes that create foreboding landscapes. All of this is accompanied by one of the most purposeful scores of the year. The combination of a deep pulsating percussion and cacophonous screeches make sure that anxiety never leaves the room.  

Despite being rather polished from a cinematic perspective, the film finds itself lacking in both pacing and structure. The first half of the films plays like a monster movie from the perspective of the monster, where we see Scarlett Johansson as “The Alien” lure unsuspecting men into their eviscerated deaths. Then, there is a tonal shift in the second half, where The Alien begins to sympathize with humans and drudges throughout England pondering her isolation and identity.

While this shift could have certainly made for an intriguing narrative, the execution failed to live up to its lofty goals. The first half of the films becomes very repetitive in its stalk and capture structure while the second half feels drawn out and aimless. Scarlett Johansson certainly flexes her acting chops in the role, by moving between a seductive killer and melancholy wanderer, but because the film is barely tethered to it plot, we never truly identify with her character or the overall story.  

As one of the more challenging films of the year, Under the Skin is sure not going to whet every filmgoer’s appetite.  Those who enjoy more experimental works such as David Lynch’s Eraserhead can look tol appreciate it’s bizarre and existential look on scifi horror.  For the rest of us, it might just get under our skin.    

About Alex

Director and writer Jesse Zwick’s debut film “About Alex” picks up right as Alex (Jason Ritter) tweets out a suicide note. Yup — tweets. As news spreads to his best friend Ben (Nate Parker) and his long-time girlfriend Siri (Maggie Grace) they pass along the word to their gaggle of college friends, and they all come out to Alex’s country house for a weekend away.

Sound familiar? If it does it’s because it’s essentially the same premise of the 1980s film “The Big Chill,” except in that one Alex’s suicide is successful. Here, Zwick uses Ritter’s sheepish style to provide a catalyst for all the simmering tension and jealousies that run rampant through the group. Sarah (Aubrey Plaza) has a tricky sexual past with Josh (Max Greenfield), but also has always had a thing for Isaac (Max Minghella), who comes to the weekend with his new, younger girlfriend Kate (Jane Levy).

With all those balls in the air, “About Alex” is tackling too much and too little, all at once. Beyond the depression and disassociation current that haunts the house, the characters themselves are dealing with “millennial problems:” Their careers haven’t quite gone the way they thought, and they’re weighed down with emotional baggage left and right. It’s a lot for any movie to grasp.

Clearly “About Alex” isn’t the first of its kind, and it likely won’t be the last. The strength in this incarnation lies in the actors, who find a sort of low-key intimacy in their relationships. They carry their problems on their shoulders into each scene, resonating value and nature of well-established friendships.

And yet, Zwick never really manages to make the dramatics feel like more than the whims of the screenplay. Where real relationships are a product of details and lives lived, “About Alex” expects its audience to fill in the cracks — a device that would be realistic if it wasn’t also riddled with awkward exposition.

Ultimately, the movie just isn’t as deep as it thinks it is. There’s plenty of emotion to be had, but “About Alex” seems to ask the audience too become too enthralled by the raw, overdetermined reactions. For all its flaws though, it still manages to be a sweet and moving portrayal of twenty-somethings grappling with the world. It’s satisfying and sweet, even in its familiarity, bringing an indie quirk with Zwick’s oversight. Although the memory of the film might not make a lasting impression, there’s certainly enough emotion to set the tone of your day.

Verdict: Not entirely original or innovative, but the film is still all about the heart.

A Most Wanted Man

The impact of the Sept. 11 attacks are still felt all around the world. Government buildings, airports, and Hamburg, the city where Mohammed Atta and his associates planned their 2001 attack, have heightened security protocols. Even a decade later, 9/11 keeps intelligence officers in the German port city on high alert as Günther Bachmann (Philip Seymour Hoffman, The Master, God’s Pocket) runs an anti-terrorism unit that’s all about biding their time and pulling in the biggest fish they can.

It’s the sort of realistic spy work that doesn’t always make for good cinema. Bachmann’s methods are slow and meticulous; he takes his time in order to build a chain of sources so vast that he can topple the whole organization.

It’s a trait that runs throughout the film to a fault, as the audience follows Bachmann around the city grooming his pathway to higher-profile suspects. As he chases after Issa Karpov (Grigoriy Dobrygin), an immigrant seeking asylum in the German Islamic community, Bachmann’s search takes its time, winding through his network and strategies. He makes a complicated play involving Karpov’s human rights attorney Annabel Richter (Rachel McAdams, Sherlock Holmes: Game of Shadows, Midnight in Paris) to use Karpov to topple a target his team has been tracking for months.

The movie was adapted from a 2008 novel by John le Carré, and there’s definitely the same slow boil that was present in another le Carré adaptation, “Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy.” Both films focus on a protagonist with palpable weariness and a fabulous cast that can’t quite shake the complexity of its story.

The plot, although complicated and a bit dry, does manage for a steadily absorbing and compelling story. “A Most Wanted Man” falters in constantly having to deal with and explain the complexity of its spy work, never managing to fully settle its focus on the characters. The movie is methodical in its hunt of every fact, number, and figure, while leaving the personality of its cast in the background.

Though his accent isn’t perfect, this is another great performance from the late Hoffman. He’s the perfect embodiment of a cigarette-fueled anti-hero, convinced of what he’s doing in a post-9/11 world. His turn as a dilapidated intelligence worker helps to carry the plot through even its more tedious moments.

Although there isn’t too much he can do to untwist the plot from all the slow-paced, brooding turns it needs to take, it’s admirably textured; taking leaps so that audiences don’t get everything spelled out for them. But in the end, “A Most Wanted Man” stays too entrenched in its stiff analytical side, and not enough into the personality of its players. It’ll make for great fair for those looking for a unhurried summer spy thriller. But unlike the politics it founds itself on, it won’t leave much of a lasting effect.

Verdict: A gradually enthralling spy thriller rooted meticulous counter-intelligence strategy. Emphasis on “gradually.”

Boyhood

Every once in a while there comes a movie so ambitious, so extensive, that it’s hard to believe the film itself could live up to the hype. Richard Linklater’s “Boyhood” seemed like the textbook definition of such a movie. 

Shot intermittently over 12 years, the eponymous boyhood belongs to Mason Jr. (Ellar Coltrane) who the audience sees through snapshots of his life starting when he’s only six years old. The film follows his growth and relationship with his divorced parents, Mason (Ethan Hawke, Before trilogy, Gattaca) and Olivia (Patricia Arquette, Holes, TV’s Medium), all the way through to when he’s just another 18-year-old leaving for college. 

The description of “Boyhood” seems like a project that’s cool in theory but couldn’t quite come together — how could it, carrying the narrative of one kid over the course of twelve years? But luckily, thanks to Linklater’s talent for realism and natural dialogue, the movie is a masterpiece.

If his “Before” trilogy was a sort of microcosm, examining the lives of two people within a certain number of hours, then “Boyhood” is the macro-cosmic other side of the coin: 12 years in only three hours. Its stance is vast, covering everything from divorce to abuse, to revelations of personal philosophies. 

There’s no three acts, no grand finale, per se. “Boyhood” barely even gives its characters a chance to stop and establish the changing years; the audience is left to deduce it from a character walking through a door and suddenly having braces, or a mop haircut.

But between the period-laden effect of the soundtrack, or clues left as time markers, the actors bring surprising honesty and authenticity to their roles. Hawke and Arquette are just as much in the thick of growing up as Coltrane is. It’s both rare and refreshing that “Boyhood” leaves its protagonist without a life-changing heart-to-heart with one of his parents, leaving him instead to develop his own sense of life.

Though most major events happen off screen, in between the episodes and snippets that Linklater chooses to show, the effects are still felt rippling through, providing an odd — but poignantly realistic — sort of narrative that carries throughout the film. Linklater sidesteps the “big” moments of Mason’s boyhood, what are normally considered the meatier action bits, to knowingly create a whole new way to capture adulthood.

Based on the way people are talking about “Boyhood,” it sounds as if it verges on pretentious, but the movie’s ability to stick to its simple nature, exploring the supposedly boring space between life’s bigger moments and revealing in them how much definition of our own character is there, keeps it grounded and authentic. 

The audience may not have gone through the same experiences Mason Jr. does, but there’s a little bit of everyone in Coltrane’s Mason Jr. As we watch him struggle with his crushes, his classmates, his sister, or his parents, we can all hearken back to a time where our growth crossed paths with his. 

As the film progresses, the characters become more nuanced, the actors become more experienced, and the whole production seems to knit itself together in a way no other movie really can. That’s probably the hand of Linklater’s stylized realism at work, mirroring how Mason Jr. might actually be recalling his boyhood. The coming-of-age cliches are stripped down and the traditional rites of passage removed until all that’s left is a simple boyhood; perhaps the most true-to-life coming-of-age film so far.

Verdict: A magnum-opus for all involved, “Boyhood” is the most realistic coming-of-age film yet