Catch-up catch-all

Back again.  So much for staying current -- got to give it another try.  I thought about giving up on film commentary, foreseeing little likelihood of my return to film programming, but somehow found a reason to keep going.  Even if I’m never back in business at the Clark, I may have a role in programming at a revived Mohawk Theater in North Adams.  And I still have to justify in some way all these hours I spend watching movies.

Having once again regained the urge to write about film, I’ve got four months of viewing to catch up with.  I’ll do so conversationally, mostly in double-feature pairings, in roughly descending order of my recommendation.  One advantage to my delay in writing about these films is that they sort themselves out, into the pictures that linger in the memory and those I have to work to remember at all.

Another advantage is that the year-end critical consensus has been tallied, and I can reference the FilmComment critics poll of top fifty films of 2015, and the Metacritic compilation of Top Ten lists to rank the thirty most admired films of the year (plus my usual link to MC numerical tabulation of critical ratings).  So my opinions are offered in the context of more general evaluation, and I know what I need to see before finalizing my own annual ranking.  As I write, the Oscar nominees have been announced, and I’ve not seen any of the supposed “Best Pictures,” but nonetheless have seen a lot -- too many -- of the year’s releases.

Two of my favorites from 2015, not prominent on the other lists, are about tortured contemporary artists, biopics with a difference, portraying writer David Foster Wallace and songwriter Brian Wilson.  I’m more a fan of Wallace’s nonfiction than fiction, but I loved The End of the Tour (MC-82, NFX), admired the way Jason Segel improbably disappeared into the persona of DFW, and enjoyed the subtle push-pull of admiration and antagonism in Jesse Eisenberg, as the Rolling Stone writer doing a profile of DFW at the peak of his reclusive renown.  James Ponsoldt is a director who seems to get better with each film, here following three films examining alcoholics with one about a lucid but fragile recovering alcoholic.  This film offers a snapshot in time, of the author confronting his ambivalent fame, implicitly revealing the self-doubt that would lead to his suicide, but more importantly demonstrating his sensibility in an oblique but seemingly authentic manner.  Like My Dinner with Andre, it makes more than you could imagine out of two guys talking.

Love & Mercy (MC-80, FC #29, NFX) was another film I went into with reservation, but came out with commendation, convinced by stellar performances and subtle storytelling.  Paul Dano, in his best performance by far, plays Brian Wilson in his ’60s Beach Boy heyday, and dependable John Cusack plays him in drug-addled despair and eventual comeback in the ’80s, an unlikely combination that works remarkably well, under James Pohlad’s direction.  In episodes of the later period, which are interwoven in the editing, Elizabeth Banks as future wife saves Cusack from the clutches of nefarious therapist Paul Giamatti.  While this may be the authorized version of the musician’s life, it remains convincing in its portrayal of the thin line between madness and creativity, and excels in its detailed portrayal of genius at work in a recording studio.

Like almost everyone else, I truly enjoyed the latest Pixar animation, Inside Out (MC-94, FC #9, MC #4, NFX), in which director Pete Docter follows Up with an insightfully mind-blowing film for all ages, subtle and spectacular, funny and moving, more true to life than all but the best live-action.  There are two planes of narration: the “real” world, where an 11-year-old girl named Riley makes an unhappy move from Minnesota (where hockey’s her delight) to San Francisco; and the world inside her head, where five basic emotions control her memory and motivation.  For a long time, Joy (Amy Poehler’s voice, as infectious as Leslie Knope’s) has predominated, but now Anger, Fear, and Disgust take turns at the controls, while it’s Sadness who has to save the day.  The visualization of mental terrain is dazzling and witty, the pace never flags, laughs and tears go hand in hand.  See it to believe it.

Amazed that such a film could begin with Disney’s Wonderland logo, I finally caught up with their recent mega-hit Frozen (2013, MC-74, NFX), which was more in the Disney Princess vein, with a few up-to-date twists to the old-fashioned tale, but did have some spectacular animated sculptural fun with ice crystals.  Another CGI feature I really enjoyed was Paddington (MC-77, NFX), in which only the title character of the Michael Bond books -- a Peruvian bear who comes to London in search of a home -- is animated (and voiced wonderfully by Ben Whishaw), from red hat to his magically realistic fur.  Sally Hawkins and Hugh Bonneville are the couple who take him in, and Nicole Kidman is the villainous taxidermist who wants to stuff him.  Paul King directs this veddy, veddy British production, again suitable for all ages.

Two emergent directors in world cinema were well-received in the past year, by critics and by me -- Christian Petzold from Germany and Asghar Farhadi from Iran – though neither delivered their very best work.  In Phoenix (MC-89, FC #8, MC #16, NFX), Petzold continues with Nina Hoss one of the great director-actress collaborations in cinema history, his fixation on her face definitely a communicable obsession.  I wouldn’t put their most recent in a class with Barbara and Yella, but it’s still remarkable.  Petzold makes movies about movies, as well as real life in real social situations, in spite of the stylization.  Phoenix references films from German Expressionism to film noir, Sirkian melodrama, Hitchcockian suspense.  The story is implausible -- about a survivor of the concentration camps looking for her husband in the ruins of Berlin after the war – but its implications -- not least in the transformations of Nina Hoss’ face -- are profound and far-reaching.  And it all sets up a final scene that justifies and transcends everything that went before.

Iranian director Asghar Farhadi made About Elly (MC-87, FC #27, NFX) before his Oscar-winning A Separation or The Past, made post-exile in France, but this earlier film wasn’t released here till 2015.  Again the cinematic point of reference is obvious -- this story of a woman vacationing with friends, who disappears and thereby transforms the lives of those left behind, owes something to L’Avventura, but is far from imitative.  Seven old friends, plus Elly, the acquaintance of one matchmaker, take a weekend excursion from Tehran to a derelict villa on the Caspian Sea.  Interactions and consequences ensue, ambiguous situations lead to levels of deceit and conflict in what seemed a tight-knit community.  There’s likely a political parable involved, but what sustains interest is suspenseful characterization and moral quandary.

Less noticed generally, but even more to my taste were two films set in Italy.  There’s also a hint of L’Avventura in La Sapienza (MC-74, FC #46, NFX), in which a Swiss architect tries to revive his love of the profession by taking a tour of Italy that focuses on the Baroque buildings of Borromini, which are made suitably magical by the cinematography.  He has a young architecture student in tow, to remind him of the ideals of his youth, as he refreshes his taste for building.  Meanwhile his wife, on her own quest for revival, becomes attached to the student’s sister.  Director Eugene Green, an American who has lived in France since the 70s, has a distinctively Bressonian style, involving the actors’ direct, impassive address to the camera.  He speaks up for mystical beauty in the face of rationalized design, favoring spirit over reason.  The title refers to a church of Borromini’s, but ultimately to wisdom and knowledge.  Maybe not for every taste, but I found this film oddly compelling.

I feel much more confident recommending Human Capital (MC-63, NFX), though it got middling critical reception here after great success in Italy.  Paolo Virzi directs -- and dissects class conflict, inequality, and unequal justice -- in this multi-layered, interlocking story.  A waiter at a private school celebration is run down on his bike afterwards.  Which attendee is responsible?  In three segments, from the points of view of three different characters, we eventually piece together the whole story.  For some reviewers it was too disjointed in style and tone, for others too tied up with a bow, but I found it satisfying throughout.  (One dissed it as American Beauty, Italian Style, but I can’t see anything wrong with that.)  Good to look at, satirical and dramatic, and well-acted overall, especially Valeria Bruni Tedeschi as the stunned wife of a wealthy hedge fund manager, whose son is the primary suspect in the hit-&-run, and Matilde Geoli as the boy’s girlfriend, not to mention Valeria Golino, a particular favorite of mine.

Speaking of magnetic actresses, the past year saw the definitive emergence of Alicia Vikander.  In Ex Machina  (MC-78, FC #34, MC #5, NFX), most of the time she’s only half there -- the other half transparent to her robotic innards – but she makes quite an impression with the part that’s there.  Ava is the creation of reclusive billionaire tech genius Oscar Isaac, and Domnhall Gleason is the employee summoned to give Ava the Turing Test, to determine whether the machine can convince the observer that she is human.  With Ms. Vikander, what do you think?  The two male actors are effective as well, as all three play games of cognitive cat and mouse.  With this nice piece of speculative fiction, Alex Garland successfully completes a rare novelist-into-screenwriter-into-director transformation, giving the film a sleek look and many intellectual twists, before descending to a genre denouement.

In Testament of Youth (MC-76, NFX), we see Alicia in the flesh.  Period flesh, well-covered, in James Kent’s traditionalist direction of this adaptation of Vera Brittain’s classic WWI memoir.  Alicia as Vera is headstrong and passionate, devoted to dreams of study at Oxford as much as to heartthrob Kit Harington (better known as Jon Snow).  When war comes and her love enlists, she gives up the academic career she longed for and goes to the front as a nurse.  The men of her generation are mown down, and she becomes a devout pacifist.  Leagues better than Downton Abbey, set in the same period, this film doesn’t escape the ghetto of British heritage productions, but Alicia Vikander assures its place near the top of that ilk.

Can’t really say the same for Far from Madding Crowd (MC-71, NFX), despite the endearing presence of Carey Mulligan as Hardy’s heroine Bathsheba Everdene.  Director Thomas Vinterberg makes the odd transition from Dogme 95 to Masterpiece Theater classicism, creating a film that is entirely too pretty.  Carey is certainly given more spunk and agency than was Julie Christie in John Schlesinger’s 1967version, where Bathsheba was more a flirt at the mercy of fate and men, but Julie will remain definitive for me.  Schlesinger’s film is more burnished monochrome than picture postcard, and has a superior trio of actors in Alan Bates, Peter Finch, and Terence Stamp.  In their respective roles, Matthias Schoenaerts is too impassive, Michael Sheen okay but not as impressive, and the other guy just a caricature of the dashing redcoat.  Still, as a sucker for adaptations of 19^th-century British novels, I enjoyed watching both versions back to back.

For modern romantic comedies, two stand out in my recent viewing, though of disparate generations.  I had forgotten the director of Results (MC-73, NFX) until the final credits rolled, where the name Andrew Bujalski explained why I’d found the film surprisingly intelligent and offbeat, and so authentic in its Austin TX setting.  Guy Pearce is the gung-ho owner of a fitness center and would-be lifestyle guru, Cobie Smulders is a personal trainer who works for him, and Kevin Corrigan is a depressed client from New York who just inherited a lot of Texas loot and wants to get into shape, learn how to take a punch.  This triangle plays out in ways, and in rhythms, you don’t expect, against the grain of rom-com conventions.  I can’t do better than A.O. Scott’s characterization of this small gem: “a beautifully played game of underhand slow-pitch screwball.”

Another rom-com that avoids many of the stupidities of the genre, I’ll See You in My Dreams (MC-76, NFX), comes courtesy of Blythe Danner, who convinces us that romance is ageless, and so is comedy.  Writer-director Brett Haley is well-served by his cast.  His leading lady showcases all her talents, including singing.  The salty chorus of widowed girlfriends features Mary Kay Place, Rhea Perlman, and June Sprigg.  Blythe’s pool cleaner crush is Martin Starr, growing well beyond geekdom, and her late-life flame is Sam Elliott, a silver fox if ever there was one.  It’s not immediately obvious how it will all turn out.  Relax and enjoy, you’re in good hands.

Having worked with a friend on a book about his travels in Ireland, I’m always eager to revisit Irish settings.  Ken Loach does the same, extending the story of The Wind that Shakes the Barley with Jimmy’s Hall (MC-63, NFX).  As I’ve already argued, “Loach is no slouch,” and though this film is not among his best, it’s well worth viewing, for the Irish countryside and the generally good acting from many unfamiliar faces.  What’s familiar is the didacticism of Loach’s (and screenwriting partner Paul Laverty’s) politics, as he demonstrates that a decade after independence from Britain, the Irish people’s opponents are the same, “the masters and the pastors.”  Jimmy had emigrated to America, met some success, but came back to Ireland when the depression struck.  Before, he had organized a community hall for education, arts, and entertainment, including dancing and debate.  Now the young people beg him to re-open the legendary gathering place, but the Powers That Be resist and defeat him.

The times and the types are quite different in What Richard Did (2013, MC-80, NFX), Lenny Abrahamson’s taut and effective precursor to Frank and Room.  The title character, an Irish prep school golden boy played with tremendous conviction by Jack Reynor, makes a very grave mistake, and the drama is whether he will own up to it, or instead, friends and family will allow him to exercise his inherent privilege and get away with it.

Staying in Ireland, we revisit the Troubles in ’71 (MC-83, NFX), which in turn led me to revisit the 1947 Carol Reed film Odd Man Out, starring James Mason as an IRA man injured and on the run through the Belfast night.  Here the man out and on the run is a teenaged British soldier, portrayed with great range of emotion by Jack O’Connell.  Yann Demange’s direction is immersive and on-the-fly, as O’Connell gets into one difficult situation after another, being chased by both sides after a botched mission.  The situation is specific, but the film comes off as a sadly universal parable of occupation and insurgency, rough stuff but with the ring of truth to it. 

It is, however, nowhere near as rough as O’Connell’s earlier film, Starred Up (MC-81, NFX), which had a reputation for brutality that kept me away -- until I wanted to see more of our boy Jack.  The title describes his situation, sent from a juvenile facility to an adult prison as punishment for bad behavior.  Fresh meat indeed! -- and you can be sure it gets pounded to pulp.  Even though his pa is in the same joint (Ben Mendelsohn, with his usual muffled menace), there’s no protection for the boy, and no give in him either.  A sympathetic anger management counselor (Rupert Friend) tries to befriend him, but is no match for prison bosses who only want to subdue the boy, make an example of him.  Frankly I would have been happy to have subtitles on David Mackenzie’s film, since I missed half the dialogue to unintelligible down-&-dirty British accents.  Nonetheless, Jack O’Connell is surely destined to be starred up, in an entirely different way.

Ben Mendelsohn shows a different side in the surprisingly delightful Mississippi Grind (MC-77, NFX).  This could have been another tired tale of two guys (Ryan Reynolds is the other, and shows himself more than just a pretty face) on a life-defining roadtrip, but directors Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck make it nimble, surprising, and well-grounded in real locations (and local music!).  In fact, the inspiration for the film came when they were shooting Sugar, and making Iowa seem like a field of dreams to a young pitcher from the Dominican Republic.  They decided to return to the area for this light-on-its-feet travelogue, following the Mississippi River down to New Orleans.  Mendelsohn and Reynolds are two compulsive gamblers, one pathetic and one blithe, who team up to hit every big casino on the river, on their way to a high-stakes poker game in the Big Easy.  You may think you’ve seen this movie before, but you’re in for some surprises, especially from two actors at the top of their two-handed game, and two directors as well.

I confess this “double feature” pairing only reflects that I happened to watch both in the same evening, and found both so much better than I expected, but nonetheless there’s some geographic proximity to Slow West (MC-72, NFX), and oh yes, Ben M. turns up again in a small role.  As does the ubiquitous Michael Fassbender, as a bounty hunter who takes under his wing, for good or ill, a teenage Scottish laird in search of the peasant girl he loved and lost, when she and her father fled from murder charges to the Wild West.  First-time writer-director John Maclean’s film is a landscape-loving, people-despising mash-up of the Coen brothers’ True Grit and Jim Jarmusch’s Dead Man, with a dash of Wes Anderson, and a host of other offbeat approaches to the Western genre, with New Zealand standing in prettily for 1870 Colorado.  All this yields an intriguing mix of whimsy with walloping action scenes of frontier violence.

That does it for films that I can confidently recommend.  Click through for comments on another two dozen recent films, among which you may find a number to your taste.