Confessions of a Shopaholic

Confessions of a Shopaholic (2009) dir. PJ Hogan
Starring: Isla Fisher, Hugh Dancy, John Goodman, Joan Cusack, Kristin Scott Thomas

**1/2

A Jerry Bruckheimer romantic comedy? Why not. The uber-producer's first crack at this genre brings Sophie Kinsella's popular book series to the big screen. Bruck brings back once-hot romcom director PJ Hogan ('Muriel's Wedding', 'My Best Friend's Wedding') to Hollywood and casts scene stealing actress/Mrs. Sacha Baron Cohen Isla Fisher for her first breakout starring role. All the chick flick ingredients are there - fashion, weddings, big city Manhattan lure, a handsome British bachelor - and so the film satisfies all expectations, but doesn't exceed them.

Rebecca Bloomwood (Isla Fisher) is a single 30-ish New York fashion writer, with an affliction– a love for shopping. Her credit card debt has become so large she's barely hanging on financially. When she loses her job, reality of her insecure lifestyle comes crashing down on, forcing her into a dire situation of finding work, which ironically is as a writer for a financial magazine.

Though she’s a fish out of water in the financial world she finds common ground with her own problems with debt and develops a successful column about credit card financing. Her editor, Luke Brandon (Hugh Dancy) is also eligible, good looking, and of similar age and so sparks are ignited between the two. Threatening Rebecca’s escape from economic and personal despair is her deception against her own debt problems and the collection agency which relentlessly tracks her down.

“Confessions” is kinda impressive from a structural screenwriting point of view. Every minor character has a tracked subplot, which ties into Rebecca’s journey. The linking of everything in her life is bullet-proofed and triple-checked for relevance and significant to the plot and character arcs of the film.

First there’s Rebecca, perhaps as a way of distancing herself from her middle class parentage, lives beyond her means and sells out to big bad Manhattan. Her parents – unsung casting of John Goodman and Joan Cusack, represent the conscience in Rebecca’s life, penny-pinchers, who lived humbly their whole lives without ever experiencing the world, like Rebecca has chosen to do.

There’s her personal life, which is a farce, barely floating above mounds of debt. She’s in a wedding party for her best friend and is even forced to make a choice of friendship or career when she can only afford to buy one dress – an ugly bridesmaid gown, or a luxurious dress for her TV interview debut.

There’s her career, which ironically has her preaching not what she practices. Fearing she'll be discovered as a sham, she choses to deceive her boss and her public readers about her own debt problems. The key visual metaphor like her expensive 'green scarf', which she buys at the beginning of the film, becomes her literary pseudonym as well as the symbol of the dual life she’s leading. Like the shameful US mortgage market, we know Rebecca’s house of cards will eventually come crashing down.

Structure doesn’t make a film, but as a basis, the filmmakers are in the right ballpark and set the audience up for a satisfactory cinema experience. As such, “Confessions” has the guts, but misses the heart.

I’d say it’s almost there. Isla Fisher is a welcome new romantic comedy lead. Though I didn’t much care for the slapstick elements, Fisher jettisons her inhibitions and goes for every laugh. Director Hogan sets her free in one marvelous scene on the dance floor when she segues from a tango to an improvised and absurd freeform dance number.

Hugh Dancy, as Rebecca’s romantic interest is watchable, another fresh face for a role which 5-10 years prior would have gone to the excruciating Hugh Grant. It’s an easier role for him to play – essentially the straight man to Rebecca’s silly antics, a man who just needs to look good in a suit and be charming.

It's not saying much but of the chick flicks I’ve seen in the last 3 years – “What Happens in Vegas”, “Sex in the City”, “Bride Wars”, “Fool’s Gold”, “PS: I Love You”, “27 Dresses”, “Definitely Maybe”, “The Nanny Diaries”, “Confession of a Shopaholic” is probably one of the better ones.

"Confessions of a Shopaholic" is available on Blu-Ray and DVD from Walt Disney Studios Home Entertainment

Next Floor

Next Floor (2008) dir. Denis Villeneuve
Starring: Jean Marchand, Mathieu Handfield, Emmanuel Schwartz, Sébastien René

****

Though only 11mins, Denis Villeneuve's 'Next Floor' stands tall as a magnificent visually stunning allegory to class struggle told with a wickedly dark sense of humour. Villeneuve channels the absurd and surreal metaphors of Luis Bunuel with the visually grandness of Terry Gilliam to create a unique artistic masterpiece."Next Floor" has been gathering awards at various festivals since last year's Cannes Film Festival, and this week opened the Worldwide Short Film Festival in Toronto.

On the highest floor of a tall building a group of black tie dressed aristocrats have assembled for a pampered meal, complete with formally dressed waitstaff and a three piece orchestra. The meal, gluttonous over-the-top helpings of prepared animals - beef, pork, ham, birds, even a rhinoceros. When signaled to eat the guests proceed to gorge with ravenous carnage, shoveling the food into their mouths like starving hynenas. Suddenly the room starts to shake, and the whole dinner table and its guests literally fall through the floor to the level below. After a brief moment the guests simply brush themselves off keep eating, with the staff quickly running down the stairs to catch up. As more food gets served and the guests continue to eat, the floor is just not strong enough to keep the weight of the table, thus sending them down floor by floor to the bottom.

There's a number of fun influences on display in this piece. Using the building as the metaphor for the plummeting disgrace of these upper class twits perhaps borrows from JG Ballard's novel 'High Rise'. As the dinner table drops a floor lower and lower so does their dignity. With each drop both the individuals and the food they eat becomes drenched in broken plaster, wood, and drywall dust. Yet they keep eating. While most of the tension comes from the waitstaff anticipating when the floor will break, there's a hint that the group might just stop eating, and that the host just might just lose some kind of bet - how long these fools can keep stuffing themselves oblivious to their impending deaths.

Villeneuve tells the story with little dialogue, just the monotonous sounds of the shoveling of food and the scraping of metal on the plates. Villeneuve projects a classical and mannered tone of deadpan humour. No matter what happens to the group, the staff and orchestra continue to play like cold robotic unemotional servants. The music is an aggressive and violent series of heavy drum pounding, like an army going to battle, complimenting the theme of passive aggressive class struggle.

Villeneuve's cast is made up of some marvelously distinct faces. The most interesting is the Maitre D, played by Jean Marchand who is introduced with a magnificent bold close-up lit with texture by DOP Nicolas Bolduc. His bald head and course face and angular facial features shows us supreme professional with resolute determination to serve these guests to the very end.

On a technical level production values sore in the short medium. Villeneuve and his crew were given access to a Heritage building in Montreal set for renovation, and allowed to destroy and demolish at will. And so, despite some carefully placed CG effects, much of the destruction in the film is real. As mentioned, Nicolas Bolduc's cinematography, shot in anamorphic 35mm is a triumph, purposeful underlit with David Fincher-like crispness, showing all the details of Jean-Marc Renaud's gritty art direction. The handsome production is aided by sharp editing and music composition for maximum spectacle and entertainment.

Despite the technical achievement, "Next Floor" is a comedy, a dark satire on the level of Peter Greenaway, Terry Gilliam and Jean-Pierre Jeunet/Marc Caro. But it's perhaps the absurd surrealism of those great Luis Bunuel films, like "The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie" and "The Phantom of Liberty" where the film links up best. But like all influences mentioned above "Next Floor" is a sociologically thought-provoking and wholly unique artistic cinematic statement.

"Next Floor" continues to tour the world. Unfortunately, I'm not sure where and when this will be available to find on DVD. But I'll when a link of some sort becomes available I will post it here

A Matter of Life and Death

A Matter of Life and Death (1946) dir. Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger
Starring: David Niven, Kim Hunter, Roger Livesay, Raymond Massey

****

Guest Review By Greg Klymkiw

With an opening as staggering as the one on display in this extraordinary Powell/Pressburger production, one is almost distracted by the thought that no picture could ever truly recover from such a dazzling romantic entry point.

How do you go up from up?

Peter Carter (David Niven), a doomed wartime pilot in a flaming airplane spirals to his death and participates in a final conversation with June (Kim Hunter), a honey-voiced dispatcher. As their conversation over the radio waves proceeds, these two souls remain stoic in the face of certain doom, even as they realize what a match made in Heaven they might have been had things been different. He is touched by her spark of life and compassion, and she for his gentle bravery. But as the conversation over the radio waves proceeds and death for Peter is more inevitable than ever before, the time comes for this couple to say their final goodbyes.

How in God’s name can a picture get better than this?

It does, and then some, for “A Matter of Life and Death”, a picture rendered by the immortal Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger – a team of filmmakers who, under the corporate moniker of The Archers, hit bull’s-eye after bull’s-eye. Almost every one of their movies (“Black Narcissus” “The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp”, “The Red Shoes”, etc.) pushes the boundaries of traditional cinematic storytelling with the kind of ingenuity that has seldom been matched (but is certainly emulated and outright copied).

From a storytelling standpoint, “A Matter of Life and Death” constantly keeps our eyeballs glued to the screen. One moment, we are plunged into a situation wherein we have absolutely no idea where the story can go and the next, we are convinced it’s going one way and our expectations are pleasantly dashed. This happens so often, that when we are actually treated to a moment in the story that we’re convinced is going to go in a particular direction and it actually DOES go there, we’re delighted that it goes into a comfortable, familiar place – not only because it is emotionally the right thing for the movie to do at that point, but because it gives us WHAT we crave at just the right moment.

This is great writing – no doubt about it. The abovementioned opening features our two romantic leads who, as characters, have not even met face to face, but WE see them and WE want them to meet face to face. And hell, they want to meet face to face too, but this is the first few minutes of the movie and our leading man is in a burning plane and he decides to make a suicide jump rather than go down in a crisp. The leading lady, while clearly distraught, has suffered enough and/or witnessed enough suffering during this world war to know that death will almost always be the clear inevitability.

Unfortunately, the original and rather unimaginative American title, “Stairway To Heaven” was enough of a silly tip-off to let us know that the story would occasionally veer into the spiritual/fantastical realm, but even within that context, Powell and Pressburger’s command of the proceedings is so taut that we’re still on the edge of our seats wondering where this could possibly go.

The direction the narrative takes is that our leading man does survive the plunge and does meet the voice on the other end of the radio and, of course, they do fall in love. Alas, the bureaucracy that runs the spirit world on the other side of death has made a dreadful mistake. Peter WAS supposed to die, but someone slipped up. When Death comes a collecting, Peter balks and demands a hearing. His life and the lives of those around him have irrevocably been changed because of this mistake and it seems extremely unfair that he is to be plucked from the physical world after having been given a chance to live longer than he was supposed to.

A trial is needed. However, the trial that proceeds has less to do with a matter of life and death and veers into the political arena of American vs. British superiority. This, of course, is yet another staggering plot element as this captures, quite resolutely, the animosity between the British and American sides during the war on Hitler.

In addition to the magnificent plotting, elegant dialogue and complex characters, “A Matter of Life and Death” is also replete with the Powell and Pressburger visual genius. Not only are images used in thrilling and engaging ways to propel the story forward, but some of the most staggering images and special effects are designed in order to tell the story as well as it is. With a combination of outstanding production design and both optical and compositional genius, this is a picture that not only holds up in a modern context in terms of the effects but also renders many contemporary digital effects to utter shame in comparison.

Last, but certainly not least and what makes this picture one of the greatest of all time is that Powell and Pressburger are not afraid to wear their hearts on their respective creative sleeves. The film is wildly romantic, sentimental and emotionally stunning.

It has heart, and that, if anything is something to be cherished.

Innovation AND heart. It’s an unbeatable combination.

“A Matter of Life and Death” (AKA “Stairway to Heaven”) is available on DVD in a package titled “Michael Powell, The Collector’s Choice” and double-billed with Powell’s “Age of Consent”.

The Fugitive

The Fugitive (1992) dir. Andrew Davis
Starring: Harrison Ford, Tommy Lee Jones, Jeroen Krabbe, Joe Pantoliano, Andreas Katsulas

***1/2

Though a solid and successful action thriller back in its day, seven Oscar nominations including a shot at Best Picture, seems almost unbelievable. Looking back over the last 30 years of Hollywood cinema we can only realistically list “Raider’s of the Lost Ark”, “Jaws” as unencumbered action pictures nominated for the big award.

There's no mistaking "The Fugitive" other than disposable as pure entertainment, with paper thin characters, and no conceivable emotional resonance whatsoever. “The Fugitive” is an action picture. Good on Oscar for choosing this film, shame on them for not using this as precedent to nominate say, “The Dark Knight” or one of the Bourne movies.

The film jumps right into the backstory establishing the murder of Helen Kimble (Sela Ward) and the trial and conviction of her husband Dr. Richard Kimble (Harrison Ford) for the crime. Despite pleading innocent, claiming it was the work of a one-armed man, Kimble is put onto a truck for prison. When the truck is hit by a train, freeing the other inmates as well himself, Kimble decides to make a run for it thus turning him into a fugitive.

His foil is the cranky and confident U.S. Marshal Samuel Gerard (Tommy Lee Jones), a true professional who tracks Kimble down with cold efficiency. Kimble’s no pushover though, he can do the running chases and throw punches with most people, but when it comes to logical brainpower and intellect he’s better than anyone. While evading Chicago’s finest Kimble starts assembling the evidence which will both exonerate him and exact revenge against the murderer of his wife.

Director Andrew Davis, an auteur by no means, directs the film efficiently with an invisible but pragmatic style. Davis uses the environment to his advantage choreographing his action around the Chicago freight tunnels, the El-train, and other popular Chicago landmarks. In hindsight, there’s very little traditional ‘action’ in the film, the electric hasty pace set by Davis’ editors create constant tension, constant movement, thus with the illusion of constant action.

Harrison is just fine as Kimble, not great. It’s an everyman role, a character he will come to exploit over the rest of his 90’s and post millennium career. Ford has his action game face on, but his character is only interesting because he’s Harrison Ford. Tommy Lee Jones, Oscar-winner for his role, is the star. We enjoy Gerard and Jones’ careful in-your-face self-assured style. His mocking of the affable local cops at the escape scene is well-played and his character comes to life shortly after when he confidently ceases reigns of the investigation. There’s no character development, backstory or personal flaws to surmount for Gerard, he’s just a cop doing his job, and Davis’ and Jones’ execution of this modus operandi is fascinating.

David Twohy and Jeb Stuart’s script is well plotted from the screenwriting handbook. The first half has Kimble in escape/reactive mode, operating on instinct. This can only sustain itself for so long, and so when Kimble turns the tables and becomes active and forward thinking in his escape plan, the film finds another gear. While there are many logical question marks (ie. could Kimble not afford a lawyer good enough to track down this evidence during his trial?) we forgive the writer’s dalliances because of the genuine truth in situation put onto the screen.

“The Fugitive” is not the best action/thriller ever made, and so I don’t know why the Academy voters happened to choose this film to receive Oscar acknowledgement, but it shows when the right film comes along, when done right we all love a good genre film. Enjoy.

Away We Go

Away We Go (2009) dir. Sam Mendes
Starring: John Krasinski, Maya Rudolph, Alison Janney, Maggie Gyllenhaal

**

After four films Sam Mendes, whose career seems to be dipped lower into the overwrought, overly dramatized Scott Rudin-type extravaganzas, “Away We Go” seems a conscious attempt of the man to free himself with an easy-going freeform breezy story.

Mendes employs some new different creative partners more versed in this kind of material, Michel Gondry's DOP Ellen Kuras, Sofia Coppola's editor Sarah Flack, newbie Alex Murdoch as composer, filling in for the usual Thomas Newman. The valiant effort just doesn't work though, and a palpable lack of conflict fails to generate significant emotional investment.

Inspired seemingly by the life experiences of the film’s screenwriter couple Dave Eggers and Vendela Vida, “Away We Go” follows the journey of Burt and Verona (Krasinski and Rudolph) who are six months into their first pregnancy. After they discover Burt’s parents will be moving away to Belgium for 2 years, they're left with a feeling of homelessness. And so, on a whim, they embark on a roadtrip across the country, and even into Canada, to find their new home.

They test out a number of places by visiting some old friends and relatives around the country. No one is the same though since when Burt and Verona last saw them. Verona’s friend in Phoenix turns out to be an obnoxious self-loathing bitch, Burt’s childhood friend in Madison WI is a flaky hippie extremist, and Burt's brother's wife has just left him and their child alone. Each of these steps and misadventures allows them to discover their true home, which fills the void missing in their relationship.

Maya Rudolph and John Krasinski are perhaps cast too well. Rudolph, cute as a button with her freckles and six months prego belly, and Krasinski is basically Jim from The Office, charming as hell, the perfect husband, understanding, witty, good looking and grounded beyond belief.

So what’s wrong with these two? Nothing. And therein lies the problem. There’s very little to discover in Burt and Verona. They are the perfect couple, never bickering (the screenwriters even reference this in the dialogue), seemingly not hard up for money considering the time off work both are taking for the journey, and there's very little at stake. Burt and Verona need to be threatened by some external force, or even an internal personality or emotional conflict to overcome. Egger and Vida make it so easy for these two it becomes a journey of self-indulgence.

And so every quirky adventure seems to distract from the fact there is no emotional foundation for the story. It’s an assembly line of oddball characters introduced at each stop, written with the feeling they've been exported from other scripts: Burt’s wacky aloof parents played by Catherine O’Hara and Jeff Daniels, Alison Janney’s loud-mouthed irresponsible crack pot mother character Lily, and Maggie Gyllahaal/Josh Hamilton’s hippie eccentrics are repetitive gag generators. And it's the same joke-punchline execution from ‘the Office”: 1) show someone saying something inappropriate 2) cut to Krasinski/Rudolph silently reacting.

And so without a genuine foundation of character goals, all the Sundance indie-charm jumps out at us as trying too hard. The precious acoustic guitar music, second-hand store costuming, even the scratchy handdrawn poster feels uninspired and played out.

It’s a shame. Krasinski and Rudolph are so likeable, and Melanie Lynsky’s somber pole dancing, which becomes the backdrop for Chris Messina’s character’s dramatic strip club confession is a great scene.

Sam Mendes who so boldly jumped out of the gate in filmmaking seems to have lost his voice. He'll get it back, but "Away We Go" is not it.

I Knew It Was You

I Knew It was You (2009) dir. Richard Shepard
Documentary

***1/2

This film is long overdue. Playing in the “The Picture is Up” Program at this year’s Worldwide Short Film Festival in Toronto is Richard Shepard's (“The Matador”) ode to John Cazale, one of the great unsung character actors from the 70’s who tragically died after only making five pictures.

If you don’t know who John Cazale is you certainly you know his unforgettable face, and certainly his signature character – Fredo – the hapless older brother of the “Godfather’s” Corleone family. The picture, told in traditional documentary style, assembles some of the great actors and directors who worked with and were influenced by Cazale to produce a reverent portrait of this uniquely talented actor.

At the top Shepard lists the five films he made, “The Godfather”, “The Conversation”, “The Godfather Part II”, “Dog Day Afternoon” and “The Deer Hunter” – all FIVE of which were nominated for Best Picture. A stunning track record. Unfortunately Cazale died tragically of lung cancer in 1978 leaving his then girlfriend Meryl Streep heartbroken.

His colleagues such as Al Pacino, Francis Coppola, Robert De Niro, Gene Hackman all give wonderful anecdotes about his intense process of acting. Richard Dreyfuss makes an astute comment about Cazale’s dedication as artist. He says, actors always want to play the strong characters, and even when they have to play a weak one, they have a way of overplaying it to show the audience that it’s the character they’re playing. But Cazale had a way of playing weakness in his eyes, a method of ultimate humility to the character at the sacrifice of all ego and pretention.

Younger actors like Steve Buscemi, Sam Rockwell, Philip Seymour Hoffman wax reverentially on the smallest details of his performances which brought life to his characters and his films. A look of the eyes, a movement with his feet, or a gesture with his hands, the power of Cazale's performance seemed to be in the naturalistic details of his movement - like those Brando-esque nuances, moments so memorable for these great actors, which influenced their careers.

Shepard’s film is a must see for fans of cinema, and in particular 70’s cinema, of which Cazale was such an important figure. If you can’t be in Toronto to catch the screening, it was produced by HBO, which means it will likely air sometime on television in the near future. Enjoy.

"I Knew It Was You" plays at Toronto's Worldwide Short Film Festival, which runs June 16-21.

The International (Blu-Ray)

The International (2009) dir. Tom Tykwer
Starring: Clive Owen, Naomi Watts, Ulrich Thomsen, Armin Mueller-Stahl

***

On DVD and Blu-Ray last week was Tom Tykwer's "The International", a film which, despite its faults, was a minor crank turning action film. I had hoped this mainstream effort would elevate Tykwer into a higher tier of director status, and though it's not the film I think we all hoped it could be, for much of the second act, it is, and at the very least a worthy rental.

With little exposition, Tykwer parachutes the audience into the middle of a battle to take down a corrupt international bank. When we meet our hero, Interpol Agent Louis Salinger (Clive Owen), he's about to secure a key whistleblower for the case. Unfortunately, within 24 hours the man dies under mysterious circumstances — just the latest setback after years of toil for Salinger.

As Salinger and his lovely partner, NY District Attorney Eleanor Whitman (Naomi Watts), obsessively investigate the murder of their informant they get closer than ever to breaking the case. But when the fat cats prove to be untouchable it will take actions beyond the law for Salinger to find justice.

Tykwer makes the best of what he's got here. His images are remarkably pristine. His grey and black colour scheme and high-key, high-resolution frames are as sharp as the bankers' Armani suits. And his traditional, locked-off, classically composed shots reminds us that handheld action isn't all that. Suck it, Bourne!

On the page though it's a run-of-the-mill, dime-a-dozen corporate thriller script barely rising above an episode of primetime television. With the timely presence of a bank as the megalomaniacal evil empire in this story, metaphors and relevant political commentaries are ripe for the taking. But aside from Ulrich Thomsen's unintentionally funny line, "you control debt, you control everything," it's all about arms dealing, which makes it feel out of date.

Tykwer's investigation and forensic efforts all seem perfunctory actions to get to the set piece everyone will be talking about: the Guggenheim gunfight. And it's a doozy. A slow but tense walking chase through the streets of NY is capped off when Salinger and his colleagues tail an assassin to the Guggenheim Museum. A breathtaking gunfight ensues reminiscent of Michael Mann's L.A. shoot out in "Heat".

Shortly after, with the audience's adrenaline still pumping, Tykwer converts a marvellous second act turn when he forces Salinger to make a life-changing decision, setting up what should be an intense third act. Unfortunately Tykwer's wrap-up is sloppy, cheating the audience from the rip-roaring climax this film deserves.

The International feels like part two of a trilogy. We yearn to know more about our angst-ridden hero, his back-story with Whitman and the mob story that emerges in the third act. While the whole is not greater than the sum of its parts, Tykwer's skills and Owen's obsessively intense performance trump its scripts failings.

"The International" is available on Blu-Ray from Sony Pictures Home Entertainment

The Greatest Game Ever Played

The Greatest Game Ever Played (2005) dir. Bill Paxton
Starring: Shia Lebeouf, Stephen Dillane

**1/2

Golf hasn't traditionally been the most cinematic of sports. One could probably count the number of golf movies on two hands, and none of them particularly memorable. Other critics’ opinion notwithstanding, I actually dug Robert Redford’s sappy “Legend of Bagger Vance” and there’s of course “Caddyshack”. Disney grabbed onto this fun story from the 1913 US Open, which saw an unknown 20year old amateur battle the world’s best golfers and win, to make a decent golf flick without the usual Disney sport formula.

Shia Lebeouf plays young Francis Ouimet, a Boston kid who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. His boyhood idol was Harry Varden, the legendary British golf champion. When he gets a chance to meet Varden in person as a child, this informs his journey to become a champion golfer. His belligerent immigrant father who reeks of hard work, disapproves vehemently and refuses to acknoledge his son's talent. Despite this, Francis becomes a young star and actually qualifies for the US Open.

In 1913 it's a special tournament which brings the two great British golfers, Varden (Stephen Dillane) and Ted Ray (Stephen Marcus) across the pond to compete against the reigning American US Open champion. While the film is structured around the journey of Ouimet to win the tournament with all that nail biting cinematic sports suspense, "The Greatest Game Ever Played" is a character film, and the parallel journeys of Ouimet, his hero Varden.

Young Shia doesn’t need to hold down the whole film. We’re actually cheering for a number of characters to win. Though it’s a competitive sport golf is not head-to-head conflict but one of man vs. nature. And so it’s fitting writer Mark Frost’s real antagonists are off the course, the upper class twits who continually exploit and express their superiority over the working class golfers. The dramatic 18 hole playoff is between Varden, Ouimet and Ted Ray. Already the crass American champion has been defeated and it’s a battle between three heroes, all competing for their own personal glory.

For Ray and Varden, victory is a vindication against a lifetime of working class discrimination and humiliation, and for Ouimet, his yearning for paternal acceptance. Stephen Dillane, a fine British actor, was never leading man material, but like most of his performances he shows a remarkable ability to internalize his emotions and in this picture, despite the success of his character, the British working class guilt is always etched in his face.

If the name Mark Frost rings a bell, it’s the same Frost who co-created “Twin Peaks”. It’s a completely different ballpark he’s playing in here. Clearly it’s a personal story to him having adapted his own novel into a screenplay, then produced the movie himself and for the most part the final film retains its integrity. Bill Paxton, whose first film, “Frailty” was interesting though mostly flawed, takes the reigns as director. He employs as much visual gymnastics as possible to spitshine the look to maximum gloss. CG effects and macro close-ups give the film an energetic Michael Bay feel, a technique which unfortunately takes the audience out of it’s stuck-up mannered time period.

As so, there-in lies the main problem. A mixture of period detail and new millennium techniques, dialogue and dramatization. Paxton tries to have his cake and eat it too. Every old world thought comes off as out of touch, and the triumph of class comes off as a no-brainer, when in reality Varden and Ouimet’s accomplishments were tremendously empowering. And so Paxton substitutes faithfulness to its time for flashy entertainment. And I can’t really complain about that, we must give Paxton, Frost and even Disney credit for retaining its roots in class and escaping the restrictiveness of period films. Enjoy.

"The Greatest Game Ever Played" is available on Blu-Ray from Walt Disney Pictures Home Entertainment

Fatal Attraction

Fatal Attraction (1986) dir. Adrian Lyne
Starring: Michael Douglas, Glenn Close, Anne Archer, Stuart Pankin

****

Erotic thrillers were a very popular genre in the late 80’s to early 90’s. In a recent posting I had argued “Basic Instinct” as the quintessential film of the genre, but a recent viewing of Adrian Lyne’s “Fatal Attraction” has changed my mind. Glenn Close is the nails on the chalkboard for Michael Douglas whose brief affair turns into a battle of the sexes for the ages.

Michael Douglas plays Ben Gallagher, a Manhattan big wig lawyer with a beautiful wife Beth (Anne Archer), and their cute daughter Ellen. They seem to have a perfect life together. Which is why when he is hit on by strong-willed professional colleague of his, Alex Forrest (Glenn Close), it’s a surprise that he quickly jumps into bed with her. Well, it takes them a while to make it to a bed. After a dinner and some wine, they consummate their affair on Alex’s sink countertop. It’s a rough and dirty scene, so hot that Alex cools herself down while in the act by reaching behind her back to turn on the water faucet.

Their affair lasts only a weekend while unsuspecting Beth is away at her parents’ house. When she returns, Ben goes back to his regular life, assuming Alex would do the same. Unfortunately for Ben, Alex turns needy and obsessive very fast. Ben tries his best to avoid her persistent phone calls, but the more he avoids her the more aggresive she gets. When Alex crosses the line and threatens his family Ben is forced to confess and confront his mistakes. With Ben clearly out of grasp, Alex resorts to violence to punish him.

Adrian Lyne, a great director from the 1980’s, makes a clear effort to control the colour pallette. He opens the film up establishing Gallagher's ‘perfect’ family, their innocence visualized with all white colour scheme. Ben, Beth and Ellen all wear white; the babysitter wears white; even the dog is white. The Gallagher family is perfect – perfect enough to be shattered by what is about to occur.

Lyne came from the class of British commercial directors of the 70's that begat Ridley Scott, Tony Scott and Alan Parker. That school of expressive and stylized lighting and camerwork is on display here as well. Attention is paid to Gallagher's apartment. Lyne uses long lenses to compress space, and selectively uses a limited number of camera setups which gives the feeling of Polanski-like big city clausterphobia

Michael Douglas and Glenn Close are a great pairing, with Close delivering one of the great villainous powerhouse performances. Alex is humanized first as a regular person then transforms into insane psychopathology. At the end of their weekend affair, Dan has to go home to his wife, thus ending the affair, Alex quickly goes from warm to stone-cold crazy bitch. As soon as we see her wrists cut we know we’re in dark thriller territory.

One of the great cinematic moments occurs at the third act turn when Dan walks into his apartment seemingly at his lowest moment, except when he walks in, like nails on a chaulkboard, he can hear Alex's voice speaking to his wife. Lyne continues the scene with some very tense dialogue between the three, and helped by a creepy music sting. Another great moment is the slow reveal of the famous boiling rabbit, which is built up well in advance by some great foreshadowing. After seeing the film twice, you'll never forget her line early in the film "Bring the dog, I love animals... I'm a great cook."

As villainous as Close's performance is, what makes the film great is that Ben is responsible for everything that happens to him. Alex is like the devil who teases Ben with some forbidden fruit, which he enjoys for a short period, then is forced to pay in extremes when he attempts to give it back. Alex though is always made human, even at her most extreme there is sympathy for her.

What would cause Ben, a seemingly intelligent man, who has so much to lose, to strike up an affair so recklessly? This unexplained answer feeds one of the themes of the film – the subjugation of men to women in the business world. Alex enters the picture as the only woman in an office full of macho, suit-wearing, scotch-drinking cigar-smoking ubermen. In one of their last conversations, Dan says to Alex, "I pity you because you're sick". Alex responds, "Why? Because I won't allow you treat me like some slut you can just bang a couple of times and throw in the garbage?" This line expresses the extraordinary complexities of this great genre thriller. Enjoy.

"Fatal Attraction" is now available on Blu-Ray from Paramount Pictures Home Entertainment



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Gumshoe

Gumshoe (1971) dir. Stephen Frears
Starring: Albert Finney, Frank Finlay, Billie Whitelaw, Janice Rule, Carolyn Seymour

***1/2

Guest Review By Greg Klymkiw

One of the most infuriating things is when a picture cannot decide what it wants to be – throwing in everything (including the kitchen sink) and looking not unlike a ratty patchwork quilt designed to comfort the posteriors of smelly hippies sitting on a cold, rain-soaked, mosquito-breeding patch of earth during some loathsome folk festival. On the other hand, there are patchwork quilts like Stephen Frears’ first feature “Gumshoe” which, like the work of a serious folk artist, is designed specifically for aesthetic scrutiny.

Frears’ long-form debut wanders between loving parodistic homage and straightforward detective drama – a picture that succeeds winningly in spite (or perhaps even because) of its desire to both comment on the form of detective fiction whilst being the thing itself. In this sense, “Gumshoe” comes close to satire, but because it doesn’t have a mean bone in its celluloid body (save for some of the roughing-up the genre demands) and never quite comes close to roasting the folly of humanity over an open fire in the Swift-like fashion we’ve become accustomed to, it doesn’t really earn the right to be called satire either.

It does earn the right, however, to be called one kick-ass picture that will stay with you long after it’s unspooled.

Spinning the tale of clinically depressed schlub Eddie Ginley (Albert Finney) and his obsession to parlay a photographic memory of hardboiled detective movies into his own reality, “Gumshoe” uses every cliché in the Warner-Brothers-RKO book. Of course, so does Eddie, and he’s the one driving the narrative – a narrative where dream gives way to reality.

When we first meet Eddie, he’s undergoing therapy and working in a seedy working class Liverpool nightclub as an emcee, bingo caller and standup comedian. Longing to be part of the world of rumpled Humphrey Bogarts where he can merrily be dispensing wisecracks, justice and indulging in kisses and repartee with a bevy of femme fatales (and potential victims of the evils of higher powers), he’s a man in search of something, anything that can help him escape what a miserable drudge his life has become. Turning 31 years of age, Eddie treats himself to a want ad in the newspaper announcing his services as a gumshoe – a private eye for whom no job is too big, too small or too dangerous. Quicker than he can shoot out a hard-boiled quip, he’s offered a seemingly routine job on as case that eventually extends well beyond its simple surface intrigue.

The convoluted mystery that follows is, like most mysteries, secondary to the world and style of the genre itself. What really sets “Gumshoe” apart is that Eddie’s just a regular Joe and most importantly, his stylized patter and adventures are set against a kitchen sink British backdrop that would definitely be more at home in the Angry Young Man genre of the early 60s where the likes of Richard Burton, Richard Harris, Tom Courtenay and Laurence Harvey railed against the injustices of working class life, but seldom found a way to crawl completely out of the muck. Eddie’s character is certainly not unlike those abovementioned anti-heroes. His ex-wife Ellen (Billie Whitelaw), a woman he will always love, left him for his own brother William (Frank Finlay), a shipping magnate who offered the sort of stability Eddie could never provide and, even to the end, has no intention of ever providing.

And, of course, in any great crime drama, betrayal always cuts deeper than anyone involved in the proceedings could ever imagine and in “Gumshoe”, betrayal is laid on thickly indeed, pistol-whipping Eddie constantly in the face.

This is an incredibly strange, beautiful and compelling picture. I’ve avoided detailing too much of the mystery, not so much for the continual surprises it offers, but because there is a political backdrop that, while dated, seems to have as much, if not more resonance in our contemporary world of strife and the gradual discovery of this makes for extremely engaging viewing. Also, Eddie’s family situation is one that figures very prominently in the proceedings and this is an especially poignant touch.

Save for a clunker of a performance from Janice Rule (though she looks great) as a femme fatale, the movie explodes with great acting. Finney fits his role like a glove and frankly, it might be one of his best performances in a very stellar career. As his brother Willie, Frank Finlay is the icy epitome of familial meanness.

Neville Smith’s screenplay bristles with crisp hardboiled narration and dialogue and the characters are full of delightful eccentricities and subtexts that always add to the forward movement of the convoluted, but always compelling narrative. The cinematography by Chris Menges (“The Killing Fields”, “The Mission”) dazzles with its stunning virtuosity. Blending film noir stylings with garish kitchen sink realism, this is perhaps one of the picture’s greatest achievements. The lighting and compositions are in perfect tandem with the strangeness of the screenplay and the two worlds that are often separate, but occasionally blend together, is always a visual wonder to behold. Andrew Lloyd Webber’s weird-ass score that veers from parody to homage to out and out straight up romantic old-Hollywood stylings is occasionally jarring in the wrong ways, but more often than not, hits the notes it needs to.

And last, but certainly not least, threading this altogether is Frears’ bold, yet controlled direction. He clearly loves these characters and this world. And frankly, so do we.

“Gumshoe” is currently available on the Columbia Pictures Home Entertainment DVD label as part of their “Martini Movies” brand, which seems like a convenient way to lump a grab bag of catalogue titles under one banner. Alas, the banner makes no sense whatsoever with respect to the vast majority of films contained under it.

Everlasting Moments

Everlasting Moments (2008) dir. Jan Troell
Starring: Maria Heiskanen, Mikael Persbrandt, Jesper Christensen, Callin Öhrvall

**

The title of this Swedish festival pic now landing for its limited theatrical release I assume refers to the idea of a photograph capturing a moment forever in time. “Everlasting Moments” is not a Kodak Moment film, instead a frustrating dramatization of prolonged spousal abuse, resulting in admirable art house filmmaking, but unsatisfactory cinematic entertainment.

Its 1909 Sweden, young Maja Larsson narrates the story of her mother Maria (Maria Heiskanen) and her strained relationship with her husband and Maja's father, Sigge (Mikael Persbrandt). We’re told the day they met, Maja serendipitously won a camera in a lottery. The story of this marriage is told parallel to the story of this camera. The opening moments of romantic bliss (about 2mins of screentime) quickly make way for the tempestuous quarrelling which come to plague the family.

Sigge, a dock worker with a leaning toward union socialism, is a complete shit – a drunk, who despite joining the temperance society consistently falls of the wagon, he also cheats on Maria over and over again, beats her and threatens to kill her, once with a hot iron and once with a straight razor. Despite this she gives birth to five of his children and stays with him through everything, even after he goes to jail. Maja’s respite is her camera which becomes her symbol of individualism and strength. Her pictures are brilliant and she becomes a sought-after artist in town.

As I was watching this film I was trying to remind myself that this film is supposed to be ‘entertaining’. Though the performance were strong and the environment dramatized by Troell was genuine, there was little entertainment in this film. Entertainment comes in all shapes and size, and depressing movies have its place cinema, as entertainment, but only if it pushes core emotional buttons.

The film is narrated from the point of view of Maria’s young daughter Maja and takes place over 20 years or so. With this kind of lengthy episodic storytelling we expect to see to the ups and downs of Maria’s life. Unfortunately it’s a continual beat down of her character. We also expect some comeuppance for Sigge, and time and again Maria leaves Sigge off the hook for his heinous behaviour. We're meant to believe Maria stays with Sigge because of her father's dying beside commandment to never break the bond of marriage. And so, the only buttons this film pushes is frustration.

Maria isn’t completely subjugated of course, she has her camera and other more defiant methods of vengeance against Sigge. During the two most intense moments of violence against her, Maria stands her ground like any strong mother would for her family – not backing down from the base expression of anger from Sigge. These are two great and powerful scenes for Maria and Ms. Heiskanen who plays her. And so when we see Maria pick up Sigge after years in prison, it’s painful for the audience to see this man get, not a second, but a THIRD chance.

Perhaps the film is entirely about the dramatic irony established in the opening scene. The camera, which was once the symbol of Sigge and Maria’s discovery of love which  becomes the symbol of what keeps them apart – or from Maria’s point of view, what give her the strength and superiority over Sigge.

This film appears to be universally showered with praise by the likes of Roger Ebert, Todd McCarthy, Kenneth Turan. Was I watching a different movie? The film was directed by revered filmmaker Jan Troell ('The Emigrants'). So nope, it definitelty was a Swedish art house film by an aging 78-year old master auteur. To each his own, but buyer beware.

Cube

Cube (1997) dir. Vincenzo Natali
Starring: Maurice Dean Wint, David Hewlett, Nicole de Boer, Nicky Guadagni

****

Ok, this might be a biased opinion, considering I work for the Canadian Film Centre who made this film, but its not. This a genuine review with all it's praise due. Made through the CFC Feature Film Project, for under $500,000, “Cube” is a mini marvel – part high concept sci-fi, part horror film, part art film. A wholly intriguing concoction of ideas and action, which avoids its potentially gimmicky hook. Not only one of the best examples of low budget filmmaking but one of the best Canadian films ever made.

The film opens in a large 14x14 square room, a solitary man in coveralls wakes up confused. On each wall a door leads to another similar but alternatively-coloured room. As the man steps into the adjacent room he sets off a deadly boobie trap which literally slices him into a dozen pieces. This is the obstacle our 6 heroes find themselves in when they wake up from unconsciousness inexplicably imprisoned in this cube. They are just regular people, Quentin (Maurice Dean Wint), a working class cop who assumes the leadership role, Worth (David Hewlett), a cynical and quiet but shifty bookworm type, Holloway (Nicky Guardini), a liberal doctor, Rennes (Wayne Robson), a criminal escape artist, Leaven (Nicole de Boer), a math student and Kazan (Andrew Miller) a mentally challenged idiot savant.

Through a process of observation and deduction they realize not all rooms are boobie trapped, and that a set of numbers etched in between each door identifies the cartesian coordinate location of the room. The team of inmates move from room to room negotiating the traps in an effort to find the edge of the cube and thus a door to the outside. As much as the traps present a danger to them it’s the conflict of personalities between the inmates which provides the greatest threat to their escape.

Writers Vincenzo Natali and Andre Bijelic who conceived of the idea while living together as roommates borrow from classic science fiction and literature. The obvious reference is Kafka’s "The Trial", a story which has the main protagonist imprisoned for a crime he’s never told of. This existential element blankets the entire film. We never know who set up the cube, why they were chosen, how they physically got there. The characters speculate and hypothesize, but it only seems to distract them from the task at hand. While this might seem like an element of convenience for Natali and Bijelic to skirt doing the tough work, ambiguities always make for the best kind of science fiction.

Richard Matheson's stamp of existential thought provoking horror is all over the film as well from his novels to his great Twilight Zone episodes. The interaction of the characters echoes the isolating set-up of William Golding’s “Lord of the Flies” – specifically Quentin’s power struggle with Holloway and Worth, which elevates itself gradually to deadly aggression and violence.

Alfred Hitchcock’s “Lifeboat” also provides inspiration - Hitchcock’s self-imposed constraints shooting a film entirely in one lifeboat. Natali is up against similar challenges but he admirably crafts each scene with a variety of creative camera angles and changes actors’ blocking to eschew any visual tedium which threatens to set in.

Whether intentional or not, it’s also hard not find influence of "Cube" in the TV series “Lost”. The unexplained new world the characters find themselves in, the leadership power struggles, the visual conceit of ‘the numbers’, the Dharma Initiative-style name-plated coveralls the characters wear and the existential theme of destiny and fate.

Story wise "Cube”is virtually bullet-proof. Often in these extreme scenarios of crisis the audience is forced to be put in the shoes of the characters, and ask themselves, ‘what would I do in this situation?’, which is when plot holes and logical inconsistencies emerge. Natali seems to have all bases covers. Though his detailed mathematical explanations of their location within the cube threatens to go over our head, the internal logic feels right and thus we believe it.

The film builds with astonishing momentum and pays off its existential conundrum with absolute satisfaction. Twists are timed well, not telegraphed or forced upon us with deux ex machine-like convenience. And Natali perfectly balances his artful ambiguities with hardcore genre pleasures.

“Cube” was included in my colleague Pascal Trottier’s essay, “The Best Low Budget Films”. “Cube” is not only belongs on this list, but also as one of the most ingenius and creative science fiction films ever made.

"Cube" screened last night as the inaugural film of my new Programming series, "Canadian Cinema in Revue"

Seabiscuit

Seabiscuit (2003) dir. Gary Ross
Starring: Tobey Maguire, Jeff Bridges, Chris Cooper, Elizabeth Banks

***

Americans and their horses, a key relationship in the history of the country – a metaphor of strength, speed and endurance, as well as the taming of the wildness of the western frontier. Gary Ross melodramatically dramatizing this in his mythological telling of the true story of Seabiscuit, the horse that captured the spirit of the American people during the hard times of the Great Depression.

All creative elements are working on the highest levels, specifically Gary Ross, who ignites America’s love of the grandioseness of its patriotic stories. The opening act tells three parallel stories of it’s three lead characters before we even see Seabiscuit. There’s Charles Howard (Jeff Bridges), an enthusiastic entrepreneur/promoter who sold Buicks, struck it rich and then became the financial backer of the horse's training. There’s Tom Smith (Chris Cooper), a rugged outdoorsman and pseudo horse whisperer who finds and trains the legendary horse; and Red Pollard (Tobey Maguire) the half blind abandoned trouble-maker who rides Seabiscuit to glory.

And of course there’s Seabiscuit himself, who is portrayed as its own character, with dramatic hurdles to surmount and character arcs to complete. Like Red Biscuit’s the runt of the litter, a small horse, with a gimp leg, unwanted by everyone and who manages to triumph over adversity.

It would seem all of this was too contrived even for Hollywood, but no, it’s all true, apparently following very closely to Laura Hillenbrand’s book. Gary Ross and his key creatives set the scene with impeccable period detail. The 1930’s Great Depression is the background, providing the context as to why the underdog story of horse and rider captured the emotion of the country. Old B&W period stills combined with David McCullough’s documentary-like narration set the tone perfectly. All other creative departments follow this lead.

The key set pieces in the film are the astonishingly photographed race sequences. Using a variety of creative camera angles, and cleverly hidden practical effects, Ross and DOP John Schwartzman (half brother of Jason, and thus, part of the Coppola family) make each race as intense as putting you on the horse. I couldn't help be reminded of the great "Ben Hur" chariot scene. The heavy sounds of horse hooves pounding the ground and the almost infinite camera angles used by the filmmakers marrying these two films together.

Perhaps the American mythologization of sport and metaphor for life is laid on a bit too thick. But going by Gary Ross’s previous work as writer of “Big” and writer/director of “Pleasantville” it fits in well with Ross’s view of storybook view of life and history. Enjoy.

“Seabiscuit” is available on Blu-Ray from Universal Studios Home Entertainment

Up

Up (2009) dir. Pete Docter
Voices by: Ed Asner, Jordan Nagai, Christopher Plummer, Delroy Lindo

***1/2

Though I admired “Wall-E” and “Ratatouille” the two recent and arguably best received Pixar films since “Toy Story”, I felt a sense these films wrang out every morsel of cuteness from the little robot and the little mouse to the point of tedium. With “Up”, newbie feature director Pete Docter pushes some of the same emotional buttons, but a more genuine characterization of his lead character, for me, results in the most satisfying Pixar film.

And I think it has to do with the human characters. The hero in the story is Carl Frederickson, the most sympathetic and endearing of all the Pixar characters. Docter takes his entire first act to tell us the backstory and conudrums of Carl. The film opens with a flashback to the 1920’s when young Carl was in awe of intrepid explorers like the dashing Lindbergh-esque airship flyer Charles Muntz who claims to have discovered a 'Paradise Lost' world in South America. We see Carl bond romantically with his lifelong partner and wife Ellie with a mutual dream of taking a similar journey to this unblemished world.

In a marvelous montage sequence Docter shows the life history of Carl and Ellie and how their dreams consistently got pushed back in favour of real world financial realities. And when Carl’s wife dies leaving him alone in his house, he suddenly finds himself lost without ambition. Before Carl is about to be sent away to an assisted living facility he literally breaks away via hundreds of helium filled balloons bringing him and his house into the skies. Little does he know, the chubby annoying boy scout Russell was on the porch thus bringing him along the adventure. Carl and Russell make it to Paradise only to encounter a nasty villain who threatens the preservation of this natural world.

Carl makes a great hero because there’s a genuine and well-defined life to the man. Docter’s beautiful crafted and edited encapsulation of Carl's life with his wife is a mini marvel. We’re reminded of the landmark dinner table scene in Citizen Kane, where Welles and his editor Robert Wise told the lengthy collapse of Kane’s marriage with only a small number of smartly edited shots. Though Docter’s sequence is longer, with more elaborate visuals at his disposal he manages to create and summarize an entire life, which becomes the dramatic foundation of the film.

Docter also manages to avoid the inherent clichés with his character. We expect Carl to be a curmudgeon, a jaded distrustful old man – much like Clint Eastwood’s character in “Gran Torino”. But Carl has more intelligence and reality-based reactions to his situations than a live action Walt Kowalski, and without sacrifice of inter-character conflict.

The film takes a turn for the childish in the second act when Carl and Russell make it to Paradise Lost. We’re introduced to a group of dogs who can speak using an electronic dog collar. Talking animals within the human world of the film seems more a ploy to satisfy the children in the audience, whom I could see getting bored with the adult-oriented backstory/setup. The adventures on the island are animal slapsticky stuff, but the introduction of Christopher Plummer’s antagonist character brings the joy and sense of adventure back for a rousing action finale.

The visual design is simple and clean, perhaps influenced by the Art Deco designs we see in the early flashbacks. The 3-D presentation was decent, a format which most certainly works best in the world of animation. If anything the polarized glasses dulled the brightness of the colours used in the film. And after 30mins or so I completely forgot I was watching 3D. I’m not sure this is good or bad – whether we’re supposed to be conscious of the three dimensions at all times, or whether it’s supposed to invisible to our eyes.

Therefore, I’d say either version, 2D or 3D, it won’t make a difference which presentation you see, the story will suck you in and immerse you completely in Carl’s life. Enjoy.