Graphic Film

A review of Waltz With Bashir.

Waltz With Bashir is a unique film that is both watched and experienced, the kind of art that does far more than entertain. It is advertised as an “animated documentary,” but the filmmaker himself, Ari Folman, admitted that it would more accurately be described as an “animated autobiography.” (I was privileged to attend a screening of the film that featured a Q&A session with Mr. Folman afterward.) Mr. Folman also described Waltz With Bashir as an “anti-war film.” It succeeds as both, opening the door to allow us to witness a part of Mr. Folman’s life that he could understandably have preferred not to think about, let alone share, and in so sharing, he deeply impacts his audience with his very personal chronicle of the senselessness and horrific cost of war. While seeing Waltz With Bashir may only take up 87 minutes of screen time, it will occupy your mind for far longer.

Waltz With Bashir tells the story of Mr. Folman’s journey to recover suppressed memory of certain of his time served in the Israeli army. Mr. Folman was a soldier during Israel’s 1982 war against Lebanon and was among those troops who advanced into West Beirut. It was during this campaign that Bashir Gemayel, senior commander of the “Phalangists” Christian militia, was elected President of Lebanon. Soon afterward, Bashir Gemayel was assassinated. In response, his Phalangist army, declaring their aim to be the purging of Palestinian fighters (who were suspected of committing the assassination), massacred large numbers of women, children and elderly Palestinians who were occupying the Sabra and Shatila refugee camps. The gaps in Mr. Folman’s memory pertained to his and his fellow soldiers’ role or lack thereof in that massacre. In order to fill in those holes, Mr. Folman reconnects with a number of men with whom he served and interviews them, attempting to use their recounting of their memories to jog his own.

From its opening moments, Waltz With Bashir jarringly demands your attention and very cleverly takes one into the film by introducing an illustration of the recurring war-related nightmare of one of Mr. Folman’s friends, which involves being chased by 26 rabid dogs. It is through his friend’s distorted memory that Mr. Folman confronts his own and sets about on his quest to set his own personal record straight. The film does take concentration to follow, particularly because there’s no set-up at the beginning to explain the history of events behind and during the 1982 Lebanon war. But the manner in which the information unfolded ultimately was more compelling than if it had been presented linearly, and I applaud Mr. Folman’s choice to challenge the audience rather than spoon-feed it.

Similarly, Mr. Folman challenges his audience to confront unsettling and ugly truths throughout the film. It was disquieting to hear the perspective of these men who served as Israeli soldiers so casually admit that in their youth, they were scared shitless and really didn’t know what they were doing. Disquieting because such statements could easily apply to any nation’s soldiers and put war in context: really, it must be what nearly every war is about for its combatants from the inside out. Even more disturbing was the parallel that a psychologist draws with Mr. Folman in a session depicted in the film regarding the complicity of the act of bystanding, because of the accuracy of that parallel. It was for me one of the most affecting moments of the film.

The medium utilized by Waltz With Bashir, Mr. Folman’s choice to animate this film, was likewise effective. It infuses a dreamlike quality to the illustration of the visions or hallucinations with which he and his friends had replaced certain actual memories. And it allows the audience to absorb certain disconcerting events without shutting down and distancing themselves. It also makes the last 50 seconds of the film all the more shocking and horrifying in contrast. The bottom line is that while Waltz With Bashir can feel somewhat slow and at times a bit arduous to watch, it’s worth the effort. Seeing this film will make you think and that’s a good thing.

Go Ahead, Make His Day

A review of Gran Torino.

Watching Gran Torino evoked the feeling you get when you watch a youngster take his first training-wheels-free ride on a bicycle – you hold your breath while he weaves and wobbles and fervently hope he can stay on without faltering, or worse, crashing, and when it’s over, it’s taken a little longer to get from point A to point B than it should’ve, but you applaud the accomplishment enthusiastically because all in all, it was an ambitious task completed with aplomb. Directed by Clint Eastwood (Letters from Iwo Jima, Million Dollar Baby) and written by Nick Schenk (with story credit to Dave Johannson and Nick Schenk), Gran Torino is a well-paced, engaging, affecting drama. As with a child’s maiden two-wheel voyage, Gran Torino pressed the line between success and disaster, as, at various times, it flirted with being overly-earnest, cartoonish or predictably stereotypical. Luckily for the audience, Mr. Eastwood is an incredibly skillful director, aided immensely on this project by his own substantial acting chops.

Mr. Eastwood plays Walt Kowalski, a freshly widowed, sharply grizzled Korean war vet living in the same house in which he raised his family. From the first moment you meet Walt (that’s “Mr. Kowalski” to you), his loneliness is palpable. With his wife gone, the most meaningful relationship he has is with his barber, who rivals him in crankiness. Walt’s bond with his two sons and their families is distant at best. His priest, Father Janovich (Christopher Carley), looks like he’s not old enough to drive, let alone legally consume the sacramental wine or tend his flock. Plus, Walt is an unrepentant racist sonofabitch, further isolating him from even the people in his neighborhood, which has changed over the many years he’s resided there and now consists largely of Hmong immigrants. So it surprises everyone, himself included, when Walt takes a shine to Thao (Bee Vang), the teenage boy next door (after Walt’s caught him trying to steal the prized 1972 Gran Torino of the film’s title), and develops a friendship with him and his sister, Sue (Ahney Her). Unfortunately, the transitioning character of the neighborhood has also included an infiltration of gang activity, and Walt can’t stop himself from getting to involved to protect his new friends, embroiling himself in a vicious, dangerous cycle of violence from which no good can ultimately come.

Mr. Eastwood’s portrayal of Walt is fully committed to the snarling nastiness of the bigot that lies at Walt’s core. But he equally allows the human side of Walt to seep through, the side made up of genuine goodness that desires a connection with people and sincerely wants to help. It is the precision of maintaining this balance that was so effective in preventing Walt from becoming cartoonish, in keeping Walt feeling real. Less effective was the aspect of Walt’s character that was haunted by his Korean war experience. Telegraphed by an ongoing push-pull with Father Janovich over whether Walt will fulfill his wife’s dying wish to go to confession, Mr. Eastwood doesn’t so much show us Walt’s feelings about his war experience as tell them, which gives us less to connect with.

What Mr. Eastwood does beautifully as a director, though, is show us how the various relationships at the center of Gran Torino develop. There was a poignancy and organic quality to the progression of Walt’s relationships with Thao, Sue, Father Janovich and even Thao and Sue’s grandmother (Chee Thao), who spoke no English. In particular, Walt’s relationship with the grandmother brought a little comic relief. Gran Torino is a serious, heavy tale and it was a great counterbalance that the script, direction and performances made use of humor to lighten things up, because otherwise seeing the movie would’ve been a ponderous experience.

But there were a number of flaws in the film. While the script did make good use of humor, some of the dialogue felt overwritten, almost novel-esque. A number of the characters did veer into the cartoonish realm – the degree to which Walt’s sons, daughters-in-law and grandchildren were portrayed as selfish and self-centered was exaggerated; less would’ve been more. Further, in the hands of a lesser actor, I suspect that Walt would also have veered into this territory; Mr. Eastwood’s performance elevated the movie significantly. And while I applaud Mr. Eastwood for what appeared to be authentic casting of Hmong actors in the Hmong roles, several of the characters, particularly Sue and Thao, came off as a bit unnatural, particularly evident only because both of them shared so many scenes with the masterful Mr. Eastwood.

These flaws, however, do not amount to enough to interfere with one’s overall appreciation of Gran Torino. While it certainly isn’t the “feel good movie” of 2009, it’s a compelling tale that merits viewing on the big screen. Ride on over to your local theater and give it a test drive.

Battered Ram

A review of The Wrestler.

Watching The Wrestler, written by Robert D. Siegel (The Onion Movie and former Editor in Chief of The Onion) and directed by Darren Aronofsky (The Fountain, Requiem for a Dream, Pi), felt as satisfying as checking out your ass in the full-length mirror after you’ve finally gotten yourself back to the point where you can wear your skinny jeans again – you’ve been here before and you know the moment might be fleeting, so you try hard to manage your expectations, but dang are you going to enjoy the moment while it lasts. The Wrestler features the “comeback” performance of Mickey Rourke (Nine 1/2 Weeks, Body Heat), whose immense talent hasn’t been utilized in a leading role since the early ‘90s. Mr. Rourke plays the titular role of professional wrestler Randy “The Ram” Robinson, and to say that the film would be nothing without him is no hyperbole. Those of us who really love movies, who appreciate the great actors of our time and relish truly remarkable performances, can only hope that Mr. Rourke’s return to the spotlight will not result in the same self-destructive implosion that deprived us of full enjoyment of his gift these past fifteen plus years.

The Wrestler relates the story of The Ram, a veteran professional wrestler regularly working the local circuit in his home state of New Jersey. The Ram’s been around so long that one of the local promoters wants to organize a twenty year anniversary re-match of a legendary grapple between The Ram and “The Ayatollah.” But for the bright lights of Saturday nights’ performances, there isn’t much glamour to Randy’s life – he can barely afford to make rent each month on his unit at the trailer park where he lives – so this kind of hype and attention serves as salve for a gnarled ego. Much to Randy’s dismay, however, his body will no longer permit him to put it through the punishing paces that have been routine for the past two plus decades. Not even with a little bit (read: a lot) of artificial enhancement. But as his body breaks down, Randy struggles to fight back, trying not to allow his spirit to follow suit. To that end, he woos the local hooker-with-the-heart of gold (except that she’s merely an exotic dancer who gives lap dances), Cassidy aka Pam (Marisa Tomei), tries to repair his broken relationship with his estranged daughter, Stephanie (Evan Rachel Wood), and picks up extra shifts at the local grocery store. But while you can take the wrestler out of the ring, you can’t take the Ram out of Randy and he can’t resist the urge to reprise his former self, with all the attendant consequences.

As one might guess, those consequences can be utterly heartbreaking. The Wrestler is predictable, but the fact that one can anticipate what’s coming is inconsequential: the beauty of this tale is in the telling. Mr. Rourke is captivating as The Ram, and even when you knew he was going to screw things up and he went ahead and did just that, you still wanted to root for him. It’s true that Mr. Rourke’s time-worn, scarred, former pretty-boy visage contributes to his portrayal of the character, but in reality, the performance is all there in his eyes. It’s The Ram’s eyes that convey his sadness, his hopefulness, his desperation. Mark my words, if Mr. Rourke doesn’t win the Best Actor Oscar, it will be because Sean Penn got the political vote (not that Mr. Penn didn’t himself give a brilliant performance in Milk, but frankly, this should be Mr. Rourke’s year). Similarly, Marisa Tomei’s Pam expresses volumes with few words, even in the way she dances – sometimes angry, sometimes forlorn and sometimes just empty. Ms. Tomei seems to get better and better with age (check out her performance in last year’s Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead if you missed it) and, if I may say, so does her body. Holy hell, she is in unbelievable shape – we should all be so lucky as to look half that good at any age. And while young Evan Rachel Wood was good as Randy’s daughter, she was a bit of a weak link among such company. Her Jersey accent came off as somewhat forced and her character’s arc seemed out of whack – she started off angry, simmered down, then brought it back up (to an eleven), and it didn’t seem like there was enough of a build to the point from which she started.

What Mr. Aronofsky did build very well from the start was our exposure to Randy’s world. The film did a great job of immediately introducing you to and then transporting you into the world of professional wrestling. Within every aspect, from backstage to performance to the ugly truth about the rampant use of PEDs (Performance Enhancing Drugs) and the physical punishment these guys put themselves through, no detail was spared. It’s a fairly unpleasant experience watching what these guys go through (a warning for the faint of heart, blood and needles – and even staples – abound) (seriously, it’s bad enough that you might actually want to eschew the movie snacks for this one) and it’s intended to be. It should be awful to watch because it conveys what these men put themselves through just for that moment of glory that their craft allows them. Do yourselves a favor and endure those parts, though, because it’s worth it to see Mr. Rourke’s return to glory.

Best in Show

A review of Slumdog Millionaire.

Slumdog Millionaire (“Slumdog”), adapted by Simon Beaufoy (Miss Pettigrew Lives For a Day, The Full Monty) from a novel by Vikas Swarup (disclaimer: I have not read the source material) and directed by Danny Boyle (Millions, 28 Days Later) (with a co-director credit to Loveleen Tandan), is a visceral, jarring, loud film. The experience of seeing Slumdog felt assaultive at times, but unlike in a typical Hollywood shoot-‘em-up or gore-fest, the violence and graphic portrayal of foul and disturbing events was in the service of skillful storytelling. Slumdog is simultaneously a phenomenal portrayal of a world that’s completely new and utterly foreign to me and the retelling of the oldest story ever told: boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy make it his life’s quest to re-attain girl.

While Slumdog may be a recycling of an oft-told tale, its take on it is refreshingly and engagingly original. Slumdog tells the story of brothers Jamal and Salim Malik who grow up, literally, in the dumps of Mumbai. Jamal and Salim are orphaned at a very young age and must fend for themselves in the filthiest conditions imaginable. Check that, the garbage pits and nooks of the slums where the brothers hole up to survive are indescribably squalid. Yet even when they have less than nothing themselves, younger brother Jamal reaches out with his kind heart to fellow orphan Latika to befriend and help her in whatever way he can. Before long, the gang of three get mixed up with actual gangsters, living well for a time until danger presents itself and Salim must make a difficult choice. Jamal and Salim escape, but must leave Latika behind, and it is Jamal’s quest to find Latika that preoccupies his odyssey for the rest of the film. Ultimately, Jamal appears on the Indian version of “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?” for the purpose of reuniting with Latika, knowing that it is a show that she watches.

Slumdog uses a very clever storytelling device, framing the narrative around the foundation for Jamal’s knowledge of the answers for the “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?” questions with which he is confronted in his appearance on the show. This results in a number of character-revealing vignettes that unfold more-or-less chronologically. But because of the device being utilized, we can jump in and out of various episodes of Jamal’s life without disrupting the flow of the film. It also builds energy and suspense into what might otherwise be flat scenes of the taping of a game show.

Mr. Boyle elicits similar energy out of the performance of his actors. As he did with Millions, Mr. Boyle works incredibly well with young actors, coaxing organic, convincing performances out of them, without crossing into cloying territory (always a danger with actors that young). The youngest versions of Jamal, Salim and Latika (Ayush Mahesh Khedekar, Azharuddin Mohammed Ismail and Rubiana Ali, respectively), in particular the charming Ms. Ali, were impressive in their handling of difficult material. There was something magnetic about Madhur Mittal’s performance as the oldest Salim as he managed to allow a glimpse of the sliver of Salim’s heart that was still preserved within his hardened exterior. And Dev Patel as present-day Jamal perfectly embodied the personification of a “slumdog,” from his posture to his body language and attitude. (The less said about – and by – the oldest version of Latika (Freida Pinto), the better. She’s awfully pretty to look at and… she’s pretty to look at.)

Slumdog is masterfully directed, integrating very strong and distinct music and with equally strong and distinct imagery, even managing to present subtitles in a clever and entertaining manner. It almost felt like a movie on steroids. But make no mistake about it, Slumdog is not for the faint of heart. It contains a horrifying portrayal of abject poverty. Some parts of the film were violent, raw and difficult to watch, but they were not gratuitous. So do yourself a favor and grit your way through them and go enjoy Slumdog on the big screen. And be sure to stay all the way through the end credits. You can thank me later.

Age Appropriate

A review of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (“Benjamin Button”) is a beautiful – though ultimately flawed – film. Written by Eric Roth (The Good Shepherd, Forrest Gump) (with story credit to Roth and Robin Swicord (The Jane Austen Book Club, Practical Magic), based upon a short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald and directed by David Fincher (Zodiac, Fight Club), Benjamin Button contains a beautiful love story and is at times breathtaking to watch, given its stunning and often mind-boggling visuals. Because of its significant reliance upon the use of visual effects, any fair discussion of Benjamin Button must acknowledge its sheer achievement in filmmaking, in the way it was able to plausibly portray Brad Pitt as the backward-aging Benjamin at every age (my understanding is that the filmmakers superimposed Brad Pitt’s age-appropriate visage upon whatever size/age actor was playing him when the character was either far too old or far too young to be physically portrayed by Mr. Pitt).

Benjamin Button tells the tale of Benjamin (Brad Pitt), an odd boy born prematurely old. Childbirth kills his mother and, unable to handle the grotesque and strange nature of his son, Benjamin’s father abandons him to be cared for at a home for the aged. Queenie (Taraji P. Henson), one of the caregivers at the home, adopts the child and names him Benjamin, raising him as her own son with the help of her beloved, Tizzy (Mahershalalhashbaz Ali), who also works at the home. As Benjamin grows up at the home, he slowly outgrows the maladies of old age, gaining the ability to walk and see more and more unimpeded with each passing year. The home also introduces Benjamin to the love of his life, Daisy (Elle Fanning), at the age of seven, as her grandmother is a resident there. It is with Daisy (also played by Madisen Beaty at age 10, then Cate Blanchett as an adult) that Benjamin has his first adventures. The rest of Benjamin Button is an exhaustive recounting of the adventures that Benjamin pursues, the places around the world those adventures take him and the great love that he and Daisy share.

Much as I enjoyed the substantial portion of Benjamin Button that magnificently drew us into Benjamin and Daisy’s love affair, there were some fundamental disconnects that prevented me from falling in love with this movie as a whole. To begin with, the entire set-up of the narrative structure, the introduction of an elderly woman on her deathbed in August, 2005 in Katrina-threatened New Orleans felt forced, preachy and out-of-place. It felt shoehorned into what might otherwise have been a lovely, seamless narrative. As it was, I felt jolted and jarred when I realized that this old woman before us was Daisy (a very heavily made-up Cate Blanchett) and that she and her daughter, Caroline (Julia Ormond), would serve as narrators by reading from a diary that she had waited until her deathbed to look at (minor spoiler: really? I mean, come on, she really waited until her deathbed to read what Benjamin said? I found that particular detail difficult to swallow) because it was not presented to the audience in any kind of fluid manner. Further, each time the action of Benjamin’s tale was interrupted and we, the audience, were pulled back to 2005, it felt completely disruptive to the pace and storytelling of the film; it utterly destroyed its fluidity for me. I am very curious to know whether the original draft of the script had the New Orleans/Katrina set-up, because it felt sanctimonious, overdone and unnecessary and, I am guessing, was possibly the result of Brad Pitt’s quite admirable efforts in aiding Katrina recovery, efforts whose accompanying political commentary had no place in this film.

The story of Benjamin Button was so grand in scope that there were bound to be some problems here and there, but I found there to be many distracting narrative holes. Entire characters would disappear from the film, or die, or disappear, then die, and so little time or treatment would be given to them that it was difficult to absorb their loss and accord it any meaning. It’s understandable given the length of the film that not each and every character could be granted the time and attention that the richness of their character merited, but as a result, I often was left feeling cheated, wanting to know more. For example (minor spoiler alert), with the deaths of Benjamin’s father, of Tizzy, of Queenie, I understand that part of the point was to demonstrate that the tragedy of death is unfortunately a routine part of life, especially for someone like Benjamin who lived life backwards, but I felt that point could’ve been effectively made and still given us greater depth to those moments. I also wanted to know more of who Caroline was as a girl, what her relationship was like with her mother. We get a line or two from Caroline about how they weren’t as close as she wishes they’d been, but why? How did that relationship develop? Did Caroline move away? These seemed to me important and meaningful details that the film should’ve touched upon.

Other details that left me with questions included the set-up of the story about the construction of the backwards clock, the mechanism that was apparently responsible for Benjamin aging backwards. It seemed an odd, odd story for Daisy to know and be able to recount, especially given that she hadn’t yet read the diary. Why this baby thusly afflicted? Was he born at the precise moment the clock became operational? Was it because he happened to be born in New Orleans that day? Was his mother’s death from the effects of childbirth a factor?

The fact that so many questions were raised and remained with me was indicative of an engrossing story with credit due to the writers. Eric Roth, the screenwriter who adapted Forrest Gump, is the primary screenwriter credited on Benjamin Button, and there are certain hallmarks of his style that are indelible. The overly simple nature that Benjamin sometimes exhibits was reminiscent of Forrest Gump, as was the use of landmark historical moments to measure the passing of time and pivotal life milestones of our main characters. However, the use of the hummingbird seemed distractingly out of place and a direct callback to the feather in Forrest Gump. It took me out of those moments and made me think, “get a new device, Mr. Roth!”

Where the script eschewed devices and just focused upon the core love story at the heart of Benjamin Button, it was beautiful and engrossing to watch and truly heartbreaking. Benjamin Button features a great performance by Cate Blanchett in particular, and Brad Pitt was also excellent. Any complaints I had about Mr. Pitt’s portrayal of Benjamin had more to do with the way the character was written (i.e., as too much of a simpleton in various situations) than with Mr. Pitt’s abilities. And Taraji P. Henson elevated a role that could’ve been two-dimensional and made her Queenie memorable without being melodramatic.

Given the foregoing, I hope it is clear that I find Benjamin Button to be a very discussion-worthy, quality film to go see. And it is one that should be experienced on the big screen. Just be aware that at 159 minutes, it will occupy an entire afternoon or evening. If movie popcorn does not appeal to you (and if it doesn’t, I have to ask, what’s wrong with you?), I highly recommend that you pack snacks and go with a buddy. You’ll want someone to tell you what you missed when you take your inevitable restroom break.

Into the Woods

A review of Defiance.

Defiance, written by Clayton Frohman and Edward Zwick (based upon a book by Nechama Tec, which I have not yet read) and directed by Edward Zwick (Blood Diamond, The Last Samurai), is a powerful, well-made film with a message that both resonates and reverberates. How anyone manages to retain his or her humanity in the face of the atrocities of war, and then a step beyond, amidst the horrors of a genocide being perpetrated upon one’s people, is both a mind-boggling feat and an affirmation of life. That ideal is expressly articulated in a pivotal scene by leader and brother Tuvia Bielski (Daniel Craig), that each day lived while maintaining one’s humanity, one’s principles, is an act of defiance against the Nazis, and it sits at the heart of the film Defiance.

Defiance recounts the story of a group of Jews, led by the Bielski brothers, who fled the persecution of the Nazis during World War II and took refuge in the Nalibocka Forest of Belorussia. Brothers Tuvia, Zus (Liev Schreiber), Asael (Jamie Bell) and Aron (George MacKay) suffer the loss of their parents (and eventually their own families, in the case of Tuvia and Zus) and flee to the woods to evade capture and death. In the process of eking out their own survival, the Bielski brothers encounter more and more fellow Jews in the same predicament (and eventually help to rescue some from nearby ghettos), all of whom look to them, and in particular, eldest brother Tuvia, for leadership and aid. The brothers work to organize the ever-growing population into a community with rules and principles while also trying to keep everyone alive by providing shelter and nourishment. At the same time, the group scavenges weapons and coordinates its own defenses, morphing into the Bielski Partisan, a form of a rebel fighting unit. Inevitably, tensions clash among members of the Bielski Partisan, in particular between eldest brothers Tuvia and Zus, and Defiance dramatizes these tensions amidst the larger struggle for survival.

Defiance features some tremendous performances, in particular, by Daniel Craig as Tuvia. Mr. Craig dramatized the horrible moral dilemmas presented by the situation his character and the others were thrust into without seeming heavy-handed. His Tuvia showed the pain of his choices with subtle expressions and dared to venture into unsympathetic territory by not sanitizing the depiction of actions we might wish he had not taken. Mr. Craig also made this James Bond fan temporarily forget he represented the modern embodiment of 007, a feat indeed (especially considering the makeup artists did nothing to alter those entrancing blue eyes). Liev Schreiber also gave a strong and restrained performance as militant Zus. Jamie Bell’s boyish Asael felt a bit over-the-top at the beginning, but his evolution into a man felt earned and well-played. Mia Wasikowska merits special mention as Chaya, as she hit just the right notes of quiet energy or hysteria, as was called for (of course, a sign of good direction by Mr. Zwick).

As is evident from the content of this review thus far, there isn’t much not to like about Defiance. But there is something missing that precludes me from placing it in the “great” film category. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a very good film, but there was something about the way the story was presented that prevented me from fully connecting with it. It may have been the way the story was introduced, confronting the viewer immediately with the horrors of the senseless killing of the Jews through what seemed to be historical footage that transitioned to the Bielski brothers’ discovery of the murder of their parents. While effective in grabbing viewers’ attention, it gave us very little sense of who these brothers were before they are consumed by the loss they have suffered. The assaultive nature of the events and their broad scope may actually have diluted their effect a bit, at least until we get to know the brothers individually. In addition, we never got a strong sense of the brothers’ relationships. Clearly, there was rivalry between Tuvia and Zus, but there was little indication of this history of that tension. Similarly, it was never entirely clear why these two grown men had abandoned their wives (and Zus his child) and ended up with their younger brothers in the woods – was it because they had heard their parents were in danger and at that point, their own families were not? And a more minor, cosmetic complaint, the brothers, in particular Mr. Craig and Mr. Schreiber, did not remotely resemble each other, which was somewhat distracting.

But these criticisms did not so overwhelm my experience of seeing Defiance that I wouldn’t recommend it. (Nor did its 137 minute running time, although be forewarned that it does at times feel a bit long and slow.) Quite the opposite, in fact. I encourage you to see the film and determine if you agree with me or not, in particular on the “connectedness” issue. While Defiance is clearly a movie seeking to impart a message, I did not find it to be at all sanctimonious. Instead, the movie has stayed with me in a positive way, and I look forward to having the opportunity to read the book upon which it is based.

The Wizard of Oz

A review of Australia.

Australia, story by Baz Luhrmann, written by Baz Luhrmann, Stuart Beattie (Collateral, Derailed), Ronald Harwood (The Pianist) and Richard Flanagan and directed by Baz Luhrmann (Moulin Rouge, William Shakespeare’s Romeo + Juliet) is not a great movie, but I loved seeing it anyway. If you’re in the mood for a predictable, sweeping, romantic epic, Gone With the Wind, Australia-style (and seventy years later with the attendant advances in special effects, visual effects and sound editing), if you will, then spending an afternoon watching Australia is exactly what this movie reviewer prescribes for you. It is exactly what you would expect from this genre of movie and from filmmaker Baz Luhrmann and there is something wonderfully comforting and satisfying about that.

Australia traces the history of the nation of Australia prior to, during and directly after World War II, through the eyes of one Aboriginal boy, Nullah (Brandon Walters). Particular attention is directed at the horrific and racist policies of the Australian government, which forcibly separated Aboriginal children and children of mixed race from their parents and placed them into what in essence amounted to internment camps in an effort to “assimilate” them. (This policy remained in effect until 1970 and it was not until 2008 that the Australian government offered an official apology for its implementation. Rabbit-Proof Fence, a 2002 film directed by Phillip Noyce is an excellent film that also addresses this subject matter.) Australia is narrated by Nullah, the child of an Aboriginal mother and white father, as his relationship with Lady Sarah Ashley (Nicole Kidman), aka “Mrs. Boss,” evolves and strengthens. Lady Ashley arrives in Australia to find her husband murdered and thus must literally take the reins of his cattle drive in order to save her ranch, Faraway Downs. She convinces Drover (Hugh Jackman) to join forces with her, and thus begins a will-they-or-won’t-they romance worthy of Scarlett O’Hara/Rhett Butler comparisons.

The choice to frame the movie around Australia’s racist Aboriginal policies was an excellent one as it simultaneously educated, raised the stakes by creating an immediate urgency and made for a compelling drama between the push-pull of Nullah’s dueling heritages throughout the film (whether or not he will go on a “walkabout” with his grandfather King George, a rite of passage for Aboriginal boys, becomes a pivotal moment for both Nullah and Lady Ashley and Drover’s relationship). However, the use of Nullah as a narrator felt a bit forced and unnecessary. The film was not one that required a narrator. That being said, I understood the choice to clearly establish Nullah’s story as that which would provide Australia’s structure. The way that narration was utilized at the beginning, though, felt quite cumbersome. It was a strange device to have Nullah begin narrating, then go backwards to follow Lady Ashley’s story, then quickly return to the same moment after not very much time. It just felt awkward.

Far from awkward was the chemistry between Nicole Kidman and Hugh Jackman. They quite literally smoldered on screen (although it’s entirely possible I could’ve been distracted by all the shirtless shots of Hugh Jackman as the ruggedly scruffy Drover). Both gave strong performances, Jackman contending with his lack of wardrobe while Kidman adeptly handled her overabundance (in addition to costumers, Kidman had a credited milliner and milliner/belt maker; calling the Oscar for Best Costumes right here, right now, folks). Brandon Walters, a novice actor of Aboriginal descent, was authentic and sweetly moving as Nullah. A special shout-out to David Wenham, who played the dastardly Neil Fletcher as such a convincingly evil bastard, he prevented me from being able to place him as the man behind the noble Faramir from the Lord of the Rings movies until I referenced his name in the credits at the end of the movie. Fletcher could easily have come across as a cliché, but thanks to Wenham’s performance, he was a three-dimensional jackass.

What was cliché, however, were the numerous “just at the last minute” moments. If one keeps in mind that this is the type of movie one is signing up for when one chooses to go see Australia, then it won’t irritate or frustrate (as much as it might otherwise) (also, be prepared for some overusage of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”). What may still frustrate is the feeling of “haven’t these people suffered enough?” There was a moment where I thought to myself, “Seriously, why does everyone have to die?” And then, predictably, someone else died. I didn’t offer a comparison to Gone With the Wind at the top of this review for nothing.

Despite its flaws and predictability, Australia is worth seeing, and particularly merits viewing on the big screen. The visuals are absolutely stunning. Australia is a beautiful country and the film Australia is exquisitely shot. Even when one consciously knows you must be watching CGI (Computer Generated Image) shots, it still looked real enough that the knowledge didn’t remove you from the moment. So seize this moment and go see Australia. Just refrain from drinking any large beverages beforehand, as the 165 minute running time can challenge even the strongest of bladders.

Dead Weight

A review of Seven Pounds.

Seven Pounds, written by Grant Nieporte and directed by Gabriele Muccino (The Pursuit of Happyness) is heavy, and not in the good way. It tries very hard to be what I think of as a “Statement Movie.” By my definition, Statement Movies are self-important, pretentious movies that consciously set out to send a message. These movies are rarely effective, because they get bogged down in conveying whatever life lesson preoccupies the script, instead of organically allowing the story being told to reach each viewer as it may. Statement Movies do not appeal to me, mostly because I strongly object to being told how to think or feel. I have no issue with movies that make me think (and even those which manipulate my emotions to a certain degree, The Pursuit of Happyness being a good example) and which have that goal as their primary objective; in fact I think it is a valid and often noble use of art. To my mind, however, Statement Movies are the bastardization of this form of art, and for me, Seven Pounds falls squarely into that category.

Given the foregoing, it will come as no surprise that I did not enjoy the experience of seeing Seven Pounds. The majority of the issues that I had with the film were with the script. I disliked the story and the premise from which it sprang, and given that baseline, it would be difficult to enjoy any aspect of the movie. Among my problems with Seven Pounds is the fact that in both its marketing campaign and the unfolding of the story, it attempted to play “hide the premise.” Its tag line, “Seven Names. Seven Strangers. One Secret.”, is disingenuous, because the secret is self-manufactured. As I promise at the top of my site, this is a spoiler-free environment, so I will not give away Ben Thomas’ (Will Smith) “secret,” but I believe the story might actually have been more effective without obscuring the inciting incident of Ben’s journey. Instead, the first 20-30 minutes of the movie were confusing in trying to determine what was real, who Ben was and in what chronology events were actually unfolding. The obfuscation felt unnecessary, contrived and as though a device was taking the place of actual substance because such substance was not available to be tapped into. What I can tell you about the plot of Seven Pounds without spoiling things is this: it's the story of how Ben Thomas, in the wake of a great tragedy, chooses to live his life, ultimately deciding to bestow seven people with invaluable gifts in an effort create right out of wrong, at least as Ben sees it.

I found a great deal of what occurred in Seven Pounds to be wildly implausible. There are certain “buys” that I’m willing to grant in the telling of a well-crafted tale, certain coincidences that might otherwise be a stretch, but that I’ll allow because a story has earned the right to rely on a contrivance or two. Seven Pounds stretched this concept too far and failed to earn “buys” I might otherwise have granted. For example (none of the following give anything significant away about the story), the ease with which Ben gains access to the CICU and Emily Posa’s (Rosario Dawson) room, the effortless and rapid manner that a loner like Emily becomes attached to Ben and the choice of a character like Connie (Elpidia Carrillo) to put her trust in a stranger like Ben. These, among a number of other pivotal plot details, were too much for me.

Despite my dislike of Seven Pounds, given the material, I did find it to be a well-performed and well-directed movie. Will Smith gave a moving performance, as did Rosario Dawson. Ms. Dawson infused her portrayal of Emily with many layers that helped to compel my attention when my mind might otherwise have wandered, given my frustration with the direction of the story. Woody Harrelson’s depiction of Ezra Turner merits special mention; he conveyed more with few words and a quieter energy than most supporting actors have the restraint to demonstrate.

Unfortunately, that restraint was not shared in most other aspects of the film. In the end, Seven Pounds failed to come to a satisfying conclusion, raising more questions than it answered, but not the kind of thought-provoking, big picture-type questions that might allow you to translate the experience of seeing a movie into a discussion about larger world or life issues. Rather, the questions Seven Pounds left me with were specific script-related questions, which included thoughts like, “Who was Ben to judge other people?”, “Why would Ben have taken what he took from his brother, thereby jeopardizing him professionally?” and “ Who was Dan to Ben and what did he owe him that he would agree to follow Ben’s plan?” Ultimately, the Statement I felt Seven Pounds was trying to make was this: Live and a good life and you will be rewarded; fail to and you will pay. Frankly, I don’t see things as black and white as this, and the movies that most entertain and challenge me occupy the gray spaces. I hope to see more of those this awards season, but for my money, Seven Pounds is not one of them.