Feeling conned by The Brothers Bloom

After mentioning it once or twice -- not to mention loving writer-director Rian Johnson's debut, Brick -- The Brothers Bloom was a must-watch, despite its lukewarm critical reception.

(Pic found at HitFix)

Sadly, the critics were right. What starts out as a fun, breezy and occasionally poignant story -- two grifter brothers (Mark Ruffalo and Adrien Brody) and their near-silent accomplice (Rinko Kikuchi) who attempt a multi-continent con on an eccentric heiress (Rachel Weisz) -- gradually takes on larger themes as the con gets bigger and the film gets longer. In the end, it goes pretty much where you think it'll go, it takes too long to get there, and the message is delivered with a heavy hand.

One additional complaint on con movies: The plots tend to be too big or too intricate or too both. There's nothing wrong with a simple ruse -- fewer holes can be punched, making for a film that doesn't leave you going, "Hey, wait a second ..."

One compliment on Brothers (aside from the performances, which are -- unsurprisingly -- quite good): Johnson knows how to create him some images. Lets hope he gets his hand on a script* that lets him show his knack for aesthetics within the confines of an equally great story.

*Looks like that could be Looper. Let's hope so.

Road to nowhere?

The long-anticipated trailer to the long-anticipated The Road finally emerged last week, with the film seeming ... promising. Cormac McCarthy's novel won the Pulitzer. Still, the movie was supposed to be released in 2008. A delay, obviously, isn't a good sign, but it's not necessarily a harbinger of doom, either.

One of the more intriguing questions when discussing The Road is "Who is John Hillcoat?" -- as in, who's this dude slated to direct dudes like Viggo Mortensen and Charlize Theron*?

*OK, she's not really a dude, unless you're referring to this monster-ous role.

And then God (On Demand) answered with The Proposition, a 2005 Australian import and one of only three films (and the most recent) in Hillcoat's directorial filmography.

This is our concern, dude, because The Proposition ain't all that great.

(Pic from DVDTalk.com)

Strangely enough, this Western wowed critics with its story of a brooding Aussie outlaw (Guy Pearce) accepting a brooding Aussie copper's (Ray Winstone) deal of turning in his vicious, brooding gang-leader brother (Danny Huston) in order to save their meek younger brother (Richard Wilson; who doesn't do a whole lot of brooding because he's busy bawling).

Like I said, there's a whole lot of staring, a whole lot of emoting, a whole lot of philosophizing (and sure, considerable violence) -- but almost none of it comes with much narrative grab; you keep wanting to care about these characters, but even the sympathetic ones' plights are overdone and thus, not all that interesting.

OK, so labeling this a Hillcoat-related concern isn't necessarily fair, as a director's early efforts don't necessarily predict a lack of potential greatness (Martin Scorsese did Boxcar Bertha, after all, which screamed "change the channel!" after about three minutes). Hillcoats feel for the visual clearly is keen. Really, most of the problems stem from musician Nick Cave's script, where the dialogue isn't all that sharp and several scenes seem forced.

So let's hope Hillcoat got a good one with The Road, and it ends up as more than Viggo, et al staring off into space for 120 minutes while emotive music plays and wind blows and flies buzz.

Donnie Brasco

(Not so) fresh from the underwhelming film year called 1997, comes a nice little mob movie ...

(Photo pulled from my browser's home page)

It's not brilliant, Donnie Brasco -- the based-on-a-true-story story of an undercover FBI man (Johnny Depp) who infiltrates a segment of the New York mafia through a likable small-time hood (Al Pacino; rarely has he been better). It's small and subdued and sometimes slow. But it gets most things right*.

*Even Anne Heche's Nagging Wife character ends up serving a purpose, rather than just being there so the filmmakers could create a large female role without having to exert themselves too much in the writing process.

What's best is that it never sensationalizes, never romanticizes*, and never becomes slave to a derivative plot. It's not as purely gripping/intense/brilliant as Goodfellas, the greatest of all mob movies, but it's not trying to be. It's a character study first and last, a study of two guys who are mostly decent despite this world of crime surrounding them.

*Unlike one of the most overrated movies of all time.

The cast works well, too, beyond Depp and Pacino and Heche -- best among the bit players are Paul Giamatti and Tim Blake Nelson as FBI operatives. Also, Brasco deserves points for not letting the Michael Madsen character (a quasi-boss) become a stunt casting; he so easily could have turned into a vicious Mr. Blonde, but instead he's just another mafia honcho with understandable anger issues.

Sure, as movies go, the mob scene is pretty much played at this point. But as long as they're made thoughtfully, like Brasco, the genre needn't be completely closed to submissions.

No Country to (re)visit

"When the facts change, I change my mind. What do you do, sir?"
--John Maynard Keynes

Two things: 1) Don't ask me who Keynes was. Wait ... *checking Wikipedia* ... OK, so now I know he's Tool's frontman. No, wait. I think that's this guy. I get confused sometimes.

2) There aren't really facts, here. Just a re-visitation of 2007's Best Picture winner, more than a year after seeing it for the first (and previously only) time. My impression back then: A harrowing, intense movie that seemed quite excellent ... except something always nagged at me, even as No Country for Old Men swept the Big Oscars, over the film I voted for (after swiping Tom Berenger's ballot).

At the time I thought that nagging feeling was No Country's surprisingly open-ended conclusion, or maybe the knowledge that I paid like $10 to park on South Beach in order to see the movie.

Now ...

(This perfectly sized poster found at tutor2u)

... now, it's clear: No Country is gripping, exceptionally crafted -- and almost fatally flawed.

The flaw is in the story.

It's not hard to see No Country is about far more than a Texas welder (Josh Brolin) who discovers $2 million that "belongs" to a psycho killer (Javier Bardem) who is being trailed by an almost burned-out sheriff (Tommy Lee Jones). The sheriff's opening voiceover -- never to return -- lets us know we're after something deep. Occasional life-related musings by a number of characters point to the nature of the world, of evil, of fighting it, of fighting for yourself, for others, etc. This is heavy stuff here, even without all the vicious killing (most of it done by the Oscar-winning Bardem's character).

Which is fine. Films don't always have to make big declarations, but those that do sometimes reach legendary status, as No Country apparently did.

But ...

Those Big Idea films almost always take two paths to get there: 1) They state their thesis within the framework of a believable narrative, or 2) They present the issue with a tone of surrealism or magic realism or something that very clearly says "Suspend disbelief, everyone -- we're going for a ride."

No Country does neither. It wants to be gritty and intense and to exist in this world (or at least this world, circa 1980), but eschews logic while advancing its narrative and making its point. Too many actions/events make too little sense (Example: How does every character seem to know where his target is, almost at all times?)

Really, it's more a philosophical essay than anything else. Again, that's fine -- as long as you're not masquerading as a story. Otherwise, it's all allegory and little else. For some, that might work. Obviously, it did for Oscar voters and critics.

Not for me, though. It left me wondering if Cormac McCarthy's book filled in those plot holes, explaining all those moments of wondering "But wait -- how did he ... ?" and "How could they know ... ?" and so on. It left me pining for some of the Coen Brothers' previous gems, which said a little something about life AND told near-flawless (or acceptably oddball) stories.

It left me feeling conflicted. On one hand, it's good that the Academy honored a film so wholly different from the Best Picture stereotype, something that was dark and not afraid to be cruel and viciously clever. On the other, the aforementioned There Will Be Blood was right there with No Country, just as dark and just as clever and far less flawed -- begging Oscar to pick it, but with no success in the Most Important Category.

Choppah

*... which translates into American as Chopper.

Another dip into the crime genre brings us this 2000 Australian import, starring Eric Bana (before Americans had any idea what an Eric Bana was).

(Photo from Cinema Blend)

Part of Chopper's greatness is derived from the above promo pic + the film's title. Combine the two and you likely imagine a brutally violent, almost sickening film about a maniacal killer running around the streets of Melbourne* offing blokes without remorse.

*This one, not that one.

Not here.

Not with a true story behind it all and Andrew Dominik at the helm.

Like Dominik's exceptional Assassination of Jesse James before it, this is more a study of celebrity than of crime and violence. Bana plays the real-life Mark Brandon "Chopper" Read, a wisecracking, (sometimes) fearless dude who (according to the film) kidnaps a judge, spends some time in the joint, gains media attention through an in-prison attempt on his life, then decides he wants a little more.

And he gets it, killing at least one possible enemy on the outside ... then writing a best-selling book (and later, more books) saying he murdered 19 fellow criminals. He becomes a cult hero. Kind of like ... Jesse James.

In the hands of the formula slaves, this could have been a mockery. But writer-director Dominik -- who, judging by his two-movie filmography, clearly wants to make his movie and doesn't care about box office (thank God) -- stays faithful to story, not violence. Not that it doesn't have its share of blood. It's just not excessive or unrealistic.

Oh, and it helps that Bana is awesome.

*Highly NSFW*

We (have slight control over) the Night

There are brilliant films, horrible films, and scores of others that vary in quality*. Every once in a while, though, there's one that's too flawed to be called "good," but too original/captivating/well-crafted to be dismissed simply as "bad."

*And the award for Most Profound Statement of the Day goes to ...

That last sentence certainly describes the 2007 crime (melo)drama We Own the Night.

(Photo from NJ.com)

The story isn't so great: A coke-sniffing club owner (Li'l Joaquin), whose brother (fellow quasi-musician Marky Mark) and father (Robert Duvall, who -- little-known fact -- once was in The Sugarhill Gang) happen to be pretty important NYPD cops, reluctantly becomes involved with the Russian mafia. That puts bro and dad in danger. Then tragedy happens. There's a lot of man-crying. Eva Mendes is around, too, to yell a little bit and look, well, like Eva Mendes. In all, some parts of the plot don't make a whole lot of sense.

And yet ...

First, points to Night for rarely falling into mob-movie formula. That, combined with craft, keeps it memorable. On that craft -- it's hard to take your eyes off the screen because writer-director James Gray pretty much nails the "director" part of that duo. The film features some scenes of pure originality and intensity, and makes you care even though you probably shouldn't.

One, where Li'l Joaquin's character is wired-up and inside a drug den, is accompanied by the ringing that's probably in your ears when you know you're in an absurd amount of danger. Exceptional. Another -- a chase through reeds -- is visually impressive (if not as emotionally charged as Gray probably hoped).

But the show-stealer -- and I'm hardly the first to say this -- is the car chase.

Car chases = yawn. Usually.

This car chase is incredible*.

*It's spoiler-iffic, too, but I actually watched it before I saw the whole film, and that didn't hurt things all that much. Verdict: It's worth it.

So hey, the movie might not Own, but parts do. That's certainly worth something in an era marked by one derivative movie after another.

Overlooked: Sexy Beast

More from the ex-British gangster set, it's Sexy Beast:

(Photo from allmoviephoto.com)

The plot's pretty simple here: Gal (a strong Ray Winstone) is a retired hood living it up in Spain with his wife and their two friends. Don Logan (Ben Kingsley; words cannot describe how good he is) is still active, and wants Gal for one more London job.

Gal wants nothing of it. So it's easy -- Gal just says no, right? Except ... not with Don Logan, who is scarier than about 90 percent of all movie characters, and that includes slashers and monsters and zombies. Here, the two go back and forth for a while, and ... well, then the rest of it happens.

The film got some notice back in 2001 for Kingsley's performance, which earned him an Oscar nod (he was beaten by a fave of The Film Official's, Jim Broadbent, for Iris). But it's more than just a showcase for Kingsley's considerable talents. It's slick in the hands of director Jonathan Glazer, who creates some pretty memorable images and handles the script deftly. It clocks in at an extremely manageable 89 minutes, so it's never excessive -- but it doesn't feel slight, either.

Really, if you want a crime film that's a little out of the ordinary, you can't do much better than Sexy Beast ... and wouldn't you know it -- Fancast.com is showing the whole movie for free!

*Word(s) of warning: The dialogue is, well, it's rough. As in it's tough to understand. I needed subtitles the first time I watched it, and I'm not even kidding. But once you develop an ear for it, it's fine -- and all the better and more authentic for it.

Don't forget ... The Sting

Cinephiles and Oscar historians know it, sure, and probably know it well. But those who don't obsessively gobble up films like this writer downs Ezekiel 4:9 bread might not be as familiar with 1973's Best Picture winner, The Sting.

Which is weird, because it's got poker*. Sure, it's not Texas Hold 'Em, but cut these guys some slack. The movie's set in 1930s Chicago. If memory serves, Texas Hold 'Em wasn't invented until, like, 1941. In Minnesota, I think**.

*And the poker clip here is just the start of the sting, so don't worry about spoilers.

**That's not even remotely true. Here's Wiki's take.



Oh, right, about the movie: The Newman/Redford vehicle is endlessly entertaining, clever, and takes the audience on a ride with it. It's not BIG like some of the other '70s legends, and it's not action-packed like many of its gritty crime contemporaries. It doesn't even much feel like a '70s film, just a timeless story about a pair of con men playing a deserving sucker (a pre-Jaws Robert Shaw).

Really, it's an early version of today's smart guys vs. big money movies -- movies like, say, this one. And who doesn't like those, at least when they're done well*?

*A: Weirdos.

Plus, ya gotta love the Scott Joplin ragtime music, even if it isn't exactly timely for the 1930s.

Overlooked: Miller's Crossing

Always put one in the brain ...


Strangely, the Coen Brothers' 1990 neo-noir hasn't stuck in too many brains since its release, despite the Coens' rising profile. But just check its user rating on IMDB. It ain't all-time high. But 8.0 is pretty solid (and 0.1 better than the Best Picture winner -- ugh -- from '90).

There's a reason.

Anyone who's read Dashiell Hammett's Red Harvest (one of my favorites) will notice the parallels between that book and this film. In fact, Miller's Crossing is probably the closest thing to a modern, English-language adaptation of Hammett's genre-defining work* -- it's got the setting (a mob-run town; Albert Finney plays the Irish head honcho here); a cold, witty, rational but not-quite-conscience-free protagonist (Gabriel Byrne); a can-you-really-trust-her? dame (Marcia Gay Harden), and a whole lot of shady characters and angles to be played.

*Incidentally, Harvest contains the phrase "blood simple" ... which later became the title of the Coens' first film.

Maybe that Harvest-Crossing closeness is why Crossing doesn't much find itself alongside films like Fargo in the pantheon of Coen Classics. Like in Harvest, Crossing's humor is black as a Thompson's handle. There's no Jesus the Bowler (NSFW!!!!) here, nor any funny-looking kidnappers. Not to say there isn't a little relief*, just not a ton. Mostly it's a clever, tangled, violent web of crime, and you're never quite sure what the hero's up to until it all comes together in the end.

*A kid. A dog. A dead guy. A hair piece.

The only significant issue here was the casting of Jon Polito as Finney's Italian rival. Polito's a fine comic actor, but plays his Crossing role a little too cartoonishly, compared to the others. It's far from enough to ruin the film, though -- and definitely no reason to skip this overlooked Coen gem.

After all, Rusty Ryan from the Oceans' series didn't.

Overlooked: The Killing

*Warning: The following post contains references to black & white images, straightforward narration and other frightening elements of pre-rating system films.

What to say about Stanley Kubrick that hasn't already been said?

My own comment: When looking at the late director's filmography, it's hard to believe the guy directed as few films as he did. Only eight after 1960. Only two after 1980.

Early on, in 1956 -- before helming legendary movies like 2001 and A Clockwork Orange and Full Metal Jacket and this unfortunate disappointment, and even before he made the I-can't-believe-Kubrick-did-that-one Spartacus and Dr. Strangelove (the best of the bunch) -- the peerless director crafted The Killing.

It doesn't carry the twisted vision later synonymous with the director. It's pretty much a straight, sinister, small-time crime film -- a group gets together to rob a horse track and make a killing (of one kind or another). The word "taut" gets thrown around a lot, but it's perfect here -- there really isn't much time wasted in the movie's 83 minutes.

Yes, like in many early films, some of the acting is wooden and the music a little excessive. There's also one character -- played by a hulking chess-crazy pro wrestler from Russia named Kola Kwariani -- whose dialogue was almost incomprehensible*.

*Seriously, listening to Kwariani in his couple of scenes, I felt like Brian Fantana talking to Ron Burgundy.

Still, those are small qualms with an otherwise slick, entertaining yarn. It's easy to see why this one often gets forgotten when talking about Kubrick's career -- it's not big/yuge/EPIC, like some of the others. But it's also easy to see why Quentin Tarantino liked it so much that he wanted to do his own quasi-version of it years later, with Reservoir Dogs.

And, in the end (literally), the film's final line belongs right there among the best ever:

"What's the difference?"

In Bruges (Or: Best of 2008?)

Leading up to the Oscars (and before this blog launched), I declared 2008 a dud year. No truly great films, I said. Some promise, some incredible moments, and one (very) near miss (Wall-E was 75% magical and 25% lame story about humans).

I hadn't seen In Bruges* when I said this.

*I blame a case of Epic Trailer FAIL for that:



HBO bailed me out recently, showing me this hilarious, clever, and strangely heartbreaking film. I had one slight problem with it, but it involves spoilers and it's only in one scene and it's really not that important a scene anyway*.

*For those who have seen it, I'm talking about what happens right after Brendan Gleeson's character leaves the bell tower, late in the movie.

Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson are hit men of some kind, and Ralph Fiennes (who doesn't show up on screen until late) is their employer of some kind. The reasons are vague. You learn things about the characters as they go -- there's no forced exposition here. Farrell's character makes a crack about Gleeson's being gay. Later you find out he's not, just through the course of natural conversations and situations.

It's not important, Gleeson's sexuality. But it's an example of a detail that just sort of emerges as the film goes on. Nothing feels forced. And yet, Bruges is consistently funny -- laugh-out-loud funny -- which is important because it also deals with some pretty heavy issues. Death, for one, is huge in In Bruges. The capacity to change is there, too. Honor, and what it costs, and whether it's worth it.

Here's the thing: It all works. It philosophizes, but it doesn't batter your head (like, say, the bell tower guard when he tells Fiennes the tower is closed for the evening). Just as Watchmen was an example of how not to philosophize on film, In Bruges shows how it's done, all while making you laugh with jokes and gags* that seem wholly natural, within the film's framework.

*Unlike, say, Little Miss Sunshine, much of which felt like quirk for the sake of quirk.

Was In Bruges the best film of 2008? I don't know. Much as I'm an Oscars obsessor, I always find the process somewhat silly; it's a stamp placed all-too-hastily and based on a swell of emotion or echo-chamber trend (see: Crash or Milk). But here's guessing In Bruges' impact lasts longer than some of the films that just got feted in that big Hollywood ceremony. Here's guessing that when I look back at 2008, In Bruges will be one of the first films to come to mind.

OUTTAKES
-Colin Farrell deserved real Oscar consideration for this role. Good lord, why didn't we hear more about this?

-Speaking of Oscars, The Film Experience blog recently called Ralph Fiennes one of 10 actors most overdue for an Oscar. His work here doesn't outshine, say, the dude playin' the dude disguised as another dude, but it's still pretty outstanding.

-Final Oscars point: That makes two '08 Original Screenplay nominees whose writing is infinitely better than the shoddy work in Milk, which won the award.

-Obscure reference of the movie: The character Jimmy (Jordan Prentice) is an American dwarf and an actor, filming in Bruges. What he's filming? A dream sequence -- which immediately brought to my mind this hilarious scene from the virtually unknown 1990s indie Living in Oblivion (Steve Buscemi, Catherine Keener, Dermot Mulroney and dwarf thespian Peter Dinklage).

-Which brings us to our line of the movie: "I hope your midget doesn't kill himself. Then your dream sequence will be f-----."