An Officer and a Gentleman

As far as potent cinematic atmosphere goes “The Pale Blue Eye” has wintry style to burn (or rather chill in this case).  You don’t so much watch this gothic murder mystery unfold so much as feel the snow falling on the characters and emaculate set design.

The year is 1830 and a grisly death by hanging has been committed on the grounds of the New York Military Academy, West Point.  The powers that be are disgusted by the incident and decide to enlist the talents of local and retired detective Augustus Landor (an appropriately steely Christian Bale) to investigate.  And when Landor takes on the case he soon comes to the conclusion that the death is most likely an in house murder.  And also one in which mystical dark arts were involved.  As Landor begins to question various officers he is approached by the intrigued cadet Edgar Allen Poe (played by a live-wire and most witty Harry Melling) who claims that the killer is a poet.  And since most of the West Point elite want the case to be resolved quickly and with little interference, Landor decides to enlist Poe’s intelligent eagerness in gathering information from within the secretive Academy alumni to solve the murder.

 

Directed by Scott Cooper (“Crazy Heart,” “Out of the Furnace”) who invests his screen adaptation, (from the 2003 Louis Bayard novel of the same name, with the moody look and dark, hushed tones of a lavishly produced horror story the film moves gorgeously but rather gradually.  Shot in and around various parts of southwestern Pennsylvania during the winter months of 2021 this is a handsomely mounted production worth seeing for the aesthetics alone.  We feel as one with the 19th century as Landor does skulking about the likes of taverns, forest paths and candlelit corriders that could be suspects all their own.  Also incorporating natural lighting, it’s a great looking labyrinth of a mystery movie. 

And it becomes less of a slower narrative pacing issue when the central performances have such finesse.  Bale is formidable as the weary widower Landor whom is still nursing the heart ache of losing his daughter while plumbing for the truth within the dark.  But it’s really Melling who takes the cake as the gangly outsider Poe, sporting a comely Virginian southern lilt that mellows his every turn of phrase into riddles of bemusement.  It’s a nifty bit of fan fiction to see a younger Poe stumble about as a would be investigator alongside the seasoned Landor patiently finding clues and paving the way.  These two actors exchanging ideas and matching wits together becomes the core hook of the film.  It also doesn’t hurt that the various supporting players including other British veterans in Toby Jones, Timothy Spall and a great scene stealing Gillian Anderson offer biting support.  Though, alas, the great Robert Duvall is given little to nothing to do other than spout meager exposition as elder Jean Pepe (a professor with knowledge of witchcraft who worked with Landor on past cases).

The film does lean into a twistier conclusion than necessary which isn’t without a few plotholes that call into question some proceedings that came before.  Though Poe comes to realize, along with Landor, that the most secretive of truths can be just a whisper away from the repercussions of evil.  And it’s Melling’s compelling inner fire that will keep you watching throughout the dark frost and snow befallen light. 

(3 stars out of 5)

A Justice League of Their Own

Director Zack Snyder can compose great cinematic shots.  I was reminded of this immediately as I watched the start of “Batman vs Superman: Dawn of Justice.”  The film unfolds with the sequence of the Wayne family walking back from the movies on that fateful night when they are mugged and killed in front of young Bruce.  This all too familiar sequence, can’t filmmakers leave the Wayne family alone already, is exquisitely shot by Snyder in an almost mythic way.  Once both parents are killed we see Bruce running into a forest after the funeral proceedings only to have stumbled and fallen underground to where a plethora of bats fly and swirl around him.  He is then seen floating towards the top of this cave in a liberated trance.  His dark knight is seeping out into the world above.  I must say…for a few minutes…it was a true moment of exciting cinema.  The familiar was new again.  I was hooked.  At least for a brief time.

“Dawn of Justice” occasionally contains some thrilling moments like this striking beginning which makes it all the more frustrating when the movie isn’t working….which I’m afraid is far too often.  Snyder tries to construct a topical film about the need for heroes in capes as well as the toll the world can take from the destruction such heroes can leave in their wake.  This theme is introduced in the opening in which the ending of “Man of Steel” is revisited but now with the addition of Bruce Wayne’s (Ben Affleck) point of view.  Wayne’s building in Metropolis gets destroyed along with the lives of a number of his employees.  Needless to say….an urge to pick a fight with Superman (Henry Cavill) isn’t too bad an idea all of a sudden.  The seething Wayne now just needs to find a way to win.  And Superman who’s now being seen as a savior by people internationally is also getting flack from the likes of Government officials like Kentucky Senator Finch (Holly Hunter) who feel he needs to answer for his actions.  Enter Jesse Eisenberg’s all too jittery Lex Luthor who’s been plotting a way to bring down Supes for his own devious purposes and the arena for a showdown is almost set.  And boy does it take a long time before we get to see this supposed gladiator match of the ages.  And did I mention Wonder Woman (Gal Gadot) is around too.  And if that wasn’t enough Doomsday makes a cameo.  To say this movie goes big is most definitely an understatement.  It contains ludicrous dream segments as well.  Just stop already.

Like most all Snyder movies this film has a great artful sheen to it that makes everything look fantastic and when Superman and Batman finally do fight..…it’s clever and thrilling and well choreographed to boot.  But also like most Snyder movies our director forgoes character development, cohesive narrative and just an overall sense of fun for the sake of visual panache that is only occasionally gripping in a more emotional sense.  We don’t have time to really get to know the new characters either.  They’re to busy brooding and investigating.  And Snyder seems all too intent on keeping the tone as grim as possible.  About an hour and a half in I just wanted to go home and watch the giddily enjoyable “Ant-Man” instead.  Damn you DC.

Affleck, who got top billing here, smartly chooses to underplay an older and cockier Bruce Wayne and fitfully embodies a bulkier version of Batman that’s more in tune with Frank Miller’s more violent and imposing variation from “The Dark Knight Returns” circa 1985.  A scene towards the end where Batman explodes out of a wooden floor of a warehouse to take on a number of criminals is one of the best involving a live action version of the character.  The whirling camera tracking of the action following was also a fine touch.

Cavill, as he did in “Man of Steel” a few years ago, looks physically great as Superman but appears to be emotionally vacant underneath (I haven’t seen him really act since “The Tudors”) and I was also disappointed to see that the only difference between his take on Superman and Clark Kent is the likes of a plaid shirt and glasses (Christopher Reeve’s boyish awkwardness as Kent is sorely missed).  It’s the smaller roles like Jeremy Irons amusingly gruff take on Alfred and Laurence Fishburne’s wily bluster as Perry White that beg for more screen time and belong in a smarter and funnier film.  And Eisenberg also deserves special mention as young Lex.  At first I was taken aback by the broadness of the performance which made Jim Carrey’s work as the Riddler in “Batman Forever” seem subtle by comparison.  But as the film went along I started to get a sense of its inherent creepiness.  His creation of Lex as a blogger misanthrope who seems to thrive on conflict really pops in a couple of scenes including a standout moment where Lex accepts an award at a party and his chipper demeanor abruptly turns into a corporate tirade.  But towards film’s end his character is sidelined as Batman and Supes have their way with each other before taking on the atrocity of Doomsday. These guys just need to hug it out and get a room already.  But oh no….quaint misunderstandings and bombastic fisticuffs must ensue. 

DC is inevitably competing with Marvel here and this movie looks all too desperate to play catch up to Marvel’s progressing film success.  Snyder has thrown so much into the this convoluted mess that one begs for a more streamlined and less ambitious film.  And more importantly one that’s just fun to watch.

   

    

  

  

Spring Breakers

There was a period of time in a galaxy long, long ago when Robert De Niro was a great actor.  In films ranging from “Mean Streets” to “Raging Bull” he solidified himself as the one true heir to Brando, a method maniac who was as audacious a screen presence as he was cunning chameleon.  But if one starts to look closely at his rather lengthy CV it becomes more apparent that starting in and around the late 90s he began tapping into auto-pilot and the brave and challenging roles became few and far between.  Maybe he was trying to appeal to a different audience or maybe he got paid better to work more and act less or maybe it was paycheck grabs for his Tribeca funding.  It all reminds me of when Joe McHale (“Community” TV show) somewhat randomly did an impression of DeNiro’s agent at a White House Correspondence Dinner.  He mimed like he was an agent picking up a phone simply saying “he’ll do it” which elicited both a laugh and a moment of sadness from the DeNiro fan who wrote this review.

“Dirty Grandpa” is fuel to the fire for McHale’s case in point and an excuse for one of cinemas reigning icons to take a paid vacation via Atlanta.  The film casts DeNiro as Dick Kelly, a former special forces soldier long since retired, who has just lost his beloved wife and decides to get his soon to be married and aspiring lawyer son Jason (Zac Efron “Neighbors”) to drive him from Georgia to Daytona Beach Florida where he can mourn.  Or so he says.  Once Jason, en route to pick his grandpa up for the trip, happens to catch him on the couch naked and masturbating to porn on his big screen, one gets the sense that Grandpa Kelly has a different kind of trip idea in store.  Yet “Scent of a Woman” this is not.

Grandpa Kelly as it turns out just wants to get as much drinking, cursing, and fornicating in as he can while occasionally stopping to dispense pearls of wisdom to his emotionally repressed grandson whom he fears is about to get married to a woman he doesn’t love and start a career he’ll hate.  Jason also begins to fall for a girl on the Daytona quest who was his lab partner back in college during a time when he had an affinity for photography (honestly I can’t make this stuff up).   At least that’s what sense of narrative I was able to conjure from this doomed enterprise which makes less sense as it goes.  

DeNiro is shamelessly playing a cartoon version of an elder Travis Bickle within a comedic context which is nowhere near as amusing as it may sound.  And Efron is stuck in the thankless part of petulant worrywart to which he’s naturally ill-suited.  Efron’s casting in “Neighbors” worked since he was able to embody the ripped torso of a frat boy king while also mocking the lunkhead persona that goes with it.  His presence can be lazily charming at best but he lacks the darting intelligence and nuance of say a Jesse Eisenberg or Joseph Gordon Levitt who could play the part of Jason in their sleep (in a much better film I would like to think).  Not that either actor is buoyed by the material in this case.  With little to no structure the movie devolves into a series of muddled vignettes where the filmmakers are doing what they can to make each progressive scene more outrageous than the first throwing credibility and coherence out the window completely.  By the time Efron turns in his bed to the image of a protruding penis at the edge of the frame I was ready to call it a night.

The supporting cast fails to make much of an impression either with Aubrey Plaza being the sole exception.  The “Parcs and Rec,” actress lends her acerbic wit where she can as a sultry spring breaker with eyes on DeNiro and she comes close to establishing an interplay with him throwing out lines like “tear me open like I’m a social security check” among the more memorable (which I imagine was the result of her own improv).  But even she gets wasted within the unnerving constraints of an unfunny film that doesn’t know what to do with anyone involved. 

“Dirty Grandpa” is the ultimate awful DeNiro vehicle that is a culmination of all the bad movies he’s been involved with over recent years ranging from “Rocky and Bullwinkle” to most anything “Fockers” related.  But I still have hope he can turn it around and come back since in the right project he can still deliver (his poignant and funny dare I say Oscar nominated turn in David O Russell’s terrific “Silver Linings Playbook” really wasn’t that long ago).  If nothing else he just needs to work with Scorsese again to get all the magic back.

  

   

Entrapment

A young 5 year old boy named Jack (Jacob Tremblay) has grown up solely in a small 10 by 10 foot garden shed room with just a ceiling window above to provide anything hinting at an outside world.  Jack is accompanied by his young but nurturing mother Joy (Brie Larson) who cares for him and keeps him occupied throughout the day with fun games and stories that sharpen his mind.  At night Jack sleeps in a closet as Joy receives visits from his father Old Nick (Sean Bridgers) who rapes her before leaving food and occasional supplies for her and Jack.  Then a new days begins and the routine continues.  And this routine has been going on for years.  That this material is based on the true Fritzl case which inspired the 2010 novel of the same name makes this story all the more unsettling.  But “Room” is both unsettling and emotionally rewarding as only the most compelling character driven dramas can be.  

Adapted for the screen by Irish playwright Emma Donoghue, directed by Lenny Abrahamson ("Frank"), and starring Brie Larson (“Short Term 12”) in a truly mesmerizing performance as Joy, “Room” captures the powerful bond that is forged between mother and son during such times of incredible duress.  We are introduced to the daily routines of Joy and Jack, mostly through Jack’s point of view, which include stretching, reading books and creating the likes of jewelry with egg shells.  Joy makes the limited environment a bit of a warm and engaging playground and only gradually do we learn of the dire circumstances of her kidnapping.   As the bigger (darker) picture is gradually unveiled the film does gain an incredible amount of suspense when Joy takes it upon herself to aid Jack in an escape attempt to the outside.  Needless to say the attempt works and Jack does escape and make his way back to his mom, with the aid of the police, yet their problems are far from over.

Joy’s parents (expertly rendered by Joan Allen and William H Macy) take her and Jack home and do what they can to reintroduce them both to the outside world that Joy now struggles to connect with and one in which Jack is just being introduced.   The dynamics shift between the two to where Joy has reverted into the role of a petulant child who is losing her purpose of being a mom and Jack’s roving curiosity of the exciting world around him is bringing him more out of his shell.  Tremblay avoids the precocious trappings of most child actors and plays his scenes with a sense of wonder that feels genuine and deeply felt.  This also goes a long way during the room scenes especially which could have otherwise come off as glaringly stagy due to the constricted environment. 

Though Tremblay’s performance remains very good throughout this is Larson’s movie.  She looks malnourished and slumps quite a bit in the room scenes but watch her as she slightly adjusts her posture or her eyes suddenly brighten when Jack says or does something clever or sweet.  Larson creates a mother who needs her son as much as he needs her to survive and this is never more the case than when they’re back in the outside world attempting to adjust together.  Her most telling scene comes around this time during an interview being held about the abduction and what she and Jack did to get out alive.  At one point the reporter asks Joy if she should have found ways to get Jack away from the room sooner and if getting outside help could have made a difference in his overall maturation.  Joy simply says “he didn’t need anyone else…..he had me” in a way that’s defiant, fearful and heroic all at once.  It’s a compelling moment of power tinged with fragility that lingers long afterwards.  And it beautifully encapsulates the insecurity and decency of any good parent who just wants the best for their child.  If there is any justice in the world Larson will walk away with the best actress Oscar for her work here. 

“Room” is by no means an easy film to watch but it’s a strong reminder of the endurance of love between parent and child and the joy of living that they can create for each other under any circumstance.  More importantly it’s the best drama of 2015 and a movie not to be missed.

   

The Paper

Excellent journalism films are a rare breed and almost nonexistent in this day and age with the internet/social media trumping the immediate need for newspapers and the likes of the dogged investigative reporters employed by them.  “All the Presidents Men,” “The Insider” and “Zodiac” are signature examples of the genre in that they worked both as cannily structured exposes as well as exciting thrillers in spite of the facts being known beforehand.  They also made heroes out of reporters which seems so quaint in our current digital age.  But it’s no small feat to create a compelling film that exists mostly within the confines of mundane office buildings and libraries.  When a true story is very much at the forefront of the piece the effects can make for gripping cinema.  I’m happy to report that Todd McCarthy’s (“The Visitor”) terrifically nuanced and impressively understated “Spotlight” is such a piece.

The film is set in 2001 just as The Boston Globe is receiving a new editor in chief, Marty Baron (Liev Schreiber, “Ray Donovan”) from Miami, to find ways to gain back and hopefully increase the progressively less than interested local subscriber base.  Marty recruits The Spotlight investigative team lead by player-coach Robbie Robinson (Michael Keaton) to probe details concerning a sex scandal within the confines of the Catholic Church that came and went with little to no fanfare.  Robinson and his team, which includes the likes of Mike Rezendes (Mark Ruffalo “Foxcatcher”), Sacha Pfieffer (Rachel McAdams, “Aloha”) and Matt Carroll (Brian d’Arcy James, “Smash”), start digging around in old case files to discover piece by piece that a number of child molestations by priests have been hiding in plain sight for years.  Robinson, who was initially skeptical of finding much of anything substantial now finds his team has to probe further with the investigations that uncover The Catholic Church’s attempts to conceal the ever evolving larger scandal involving numerous victims (potentially up to 90 in Boston alone).  The movie fascinates with just how each reporter is personally affected by their unrelenting pursuit of getting the story to the public in spite of encountering various public officials attempting to shut down their efforts.

With incredibly intriguing fact based material at his disposal Boston native McCarthy (along with co-screenwriter Josh Singer, “The Fifth Estate”) shrewdly crafts a procedural that hums along like a thriller.  The importance of finding the truth with one piece of evidence at a time and how various public officials are conditioned to react against the community being informed of it is what raises the stakes from the outset.  And the screenplay here is taut enough to hook the viewer without the likes of any flashy film trickery.  The scenes where the investigators are meeting with the victims in particular are so matter of fact and slow burning that they seem as if they were taken from a documentary.  It also puts a human face on the larger scandal being uncovered and the alarming reactions conveyed by each reporter are never histrionic which aids considerably to “Spotlight’s” lingering impact.  This is also, as I’m sure McCarthy had intended, very much a Boston movie getting the atmosphere just right with the working class milieu contrasting nicely with sinister dealings in the upper echelon of the city where Keaton’s Robinson in particular has some increasingly heated confrontations. 

Speaking of Michael Keaton, it’s great to see him in topical films again revitalized post “Birdman” and providing the stalwart Robinson with a keen intelligence that goes on high alert when faced with threats masked by civility.  Ruffalo brings a jumpy intensity to Rezendes in contrast that reveals the restless spirit of the cause driving the team.  He gets the closest the film comes to an awards bait monologue towards the end but by that point it fits organically within the story and is delivered by this ever magnetic actor with an unassuming poignancy.  But truth be told everyone in this cast delivers.  Outside of the journalists there is deputy manager of the globe Ben Bradlee Jr. (John Slattery, “Mad Men”), victims’ attorney Mitchell Garabedian (Stanley Tucci, “The Imposters”) and slick and serpentine opposing attorney Eric Macleish (Billy Crudup, “Almost Famous”) who all find ways to create vivid moments that illuminate the unfolding story rather than detract from it.  If I was pressed to pick my favorite though I would have to go with the cool and calculating Schreiber, long regarded as one of the best American stage actors, who doesn’t get film parts this good often enough.  He brings a quiet integrity to the proceedings that never attempts to garner attention unto itself but is integral to Baron whose sole reason for being is assembling facts and telling people the truth (no matter the personal cost). 

The last scenes in “Spotlight” are sublime and in a way a celebration of the time when journalists could still be seen as heroes.  The story has now broken to the public and the scrappy reporters at the Globe are picking up phone calls left and right of people willing to tell their part of a story that most continue now onto a bigger stage.  And here’s to a film that’s brave enough to show us what these reporters did to get the public their story first.

                           

The Bond Ultimatum

It seems not that long ago Daniel Craig first took over the mantle of playing 007 in Martin Campbell’s 2006 film adventure “Casino Royale.”  Before that film came out the blond haired, flinty and stone faced British theatre regular best known for his character work in art-house films seemed like such a left field and unlikely choice.  While Craig was certainly a proper actor, along the lines of then rumored favorite Clive Owen, one could argue he didn’t have the matinee idol looks, style or charm needed for the likes of a Bond.  But within a few minutes of watching a sinewy and spry Craig tussle violently with an enemy agent in a brutal, stripped down black and white opening fight sequence in “Casino” it became very clear he was already on the way to redefining Ian Fleming’s suave super spy for a new generation.

Craig’s Bond debuted a more rugged, fallible and dare I say human James Bond.  He was muscular and dangerous and seemingly less refined than those that came before.  More importantly, his Bond made mistakes, got hurt, and was even capable of falling in love.  He was more flesh and blood man than romantic cold war concept and became the ideal post 9/11 007 we deserved.  Craig’s fresh take on the character along with a smart origin story and worthy love interest in Eva Green’s Vesper Lynd helped “Casino Royale” become what is now arguably the best Bond film ever made.  Needless to say expectations for future installments had risen to a whole new exciting level.

Craig’s following outing (and first direct Bond sequel) with “Quantum of Solace” lacked the emotional depth and finesse of “Casino”, due possibly to the writers strike at the time.  But then, director Sam Mendes of “American Beauty” fame came along and was clever enough to plumb deeper into Bond’s mythology while also reintroducing him through the lens of an all knowing and consuming digital age.  Judi Dench as M was used as the ultimate Bond girl while Javier Bardem brought a silky menace to nominal baddie Raoul Silva that ended up bagging him SAG and BAFTA acting nods (award worthy acting acclaim is normally unheard of for a Bond film).  Not only that but “Skyfall” ended up becoming the most lucrative Bond film of all time as well.  Expectations were now at an all time high for a worthy followup.

And now Mendes and Craig are back with “Spectre”, which is reportedly the longest and most expensive Bond experience yet.  And while this film does contain inspired moments of action and espionage it will ultimately go down as a disappointment when compared to the other recent Bonds.  It’s merely good but far from great.  Fun but not necessarily memorable.  Better than “Quantum” but certainly no “Skyfall.”

And yet it started off with such promise.  The opening sees Bond making his way through a crowd during a massive Day of the Dead celebration in Mexico City that’s absolutely gripping.  But instead of enjoying the parade 007 has work to do and do he does.  He's able to kiss a girl, blow up a building, fly a helicopter and retrieve a cryptic ring within 10 minutes of absurd but beautiful spectacle shot by cinematographer Hoyt Van Hoytema (“Interstellar”).  This initial jam packed action is so stylishly shot, also paying homage to Orson Welles “A Touch of Evil”, that the florid bombast on display becomes the best set piece in the film.  It even recalls a bit of a classic Bond feel from the 60s in terms of tone.  

In wake of the Mexico City mayhem Bond finds himself in hot water over at MI6 and goes rogue (how many times is this now?) when ordered to take a leave of absence from M (Ralph Fiennes).  Following a lead from former M (Judi Dench via email) Bond begins an investigation that takes him to Rome in which he finds himself amidst a supreme criminal organization lead by someone from his past he knows all too well.  Meanwhile back in London, MI6 is now overseen and being hounded by smarmy bureaucrat Agent C (Andrew Scott of BBCs “Sherlock”) to terminate it’s 00 program thus replacing human agents with tech surveillance and drones.

An abundance of globe trotting is on order here with Bond going from Rome to Austria to the Tunisian desert and back to London.  Mendes uses his gift for conjuring bold imagery to maximum effect in a few other standout scenes (a SPECTRE meeting in Rome with silhouettes speaking in the shadows is eerily magnetic and an abrupt fight scene between Bond and behemoth henchman Mr. Hinx is incredibly tense recalling the classic fight between Connery and Robert Shaw in “From Russia with Love”).   

While incorporating some classic elements into the film works to a degree the sillier aspects of the story start to work more against Craig’s grounded take on the character.  Mendes relies more on established formula here than before which gets in the way of what could have been a leaner more emotionally involving Bond film like “Casino”.  By the time James ends up facing off against head of SPECTRE Ernst Stavro Blofeld (Christoph Waltz) toward films end the movie has devolved into a parody of former Bonds that would be more at home in an Austin Powers flick.  The subplot in which Blofeld’s family took Bond in after his parents died in their climbing accident is even more ludicrous sketching an unlikely connection between our hero and all knowing vengeance seeking villain that’s simply not needed.  Waltz is a terrific actor but he’s ambushed by a cloying role here and fails to seep into the truly unsettling villain he’s meant to be.  Spouting off perfunctory lines like “I’m the author of all your pain” certainly doesn’t help him.  In contrast, Blofeld’s silent but deadly henchman Mr. Hinx played by formidable David Bautista (“Guardians of the Galaxy”) is at least a physically imposing presence that adds a welcome steeliness to his scenes.   

Craig instills his ever edgy charisma into 007 yet again and it’s fun to see him play off of the newly established MI6 including Fiennes M, Naomie Harris’s flirty but dutiful Money Penny, and the ever delightful Ben Wishaw as the most nebbishy Q of the series.  Much has been made of sultry Monica Belluci’s “older” Bond girl role, she’s 51 to Craig’s 47, but she leaves the proceedings as quickly as she arrives.  This leaves room for a 30 year old, significantly younger Lea Seydoux’s (“Blue is the Warmest Color”) Dr. Madeline Swann as contact turned romantic interest who knows a thing or two about loving an assassin.  Seydoux is a considerable talent but much like Waltz she's given a thinly sketched role that fails to leave much of an impression.  It’s a shame when you have to go back to Eva Green 10 years ago to find the last complex Bond love interest but alas it’s still the case (which the filmmakers seem to know as well considering we are subtly reminded of Vesper throughout the film.  Subtly as a hammer to the skull.)

All in all there is enough spectacle and money being thrown at the screen to consider “Spectre” as a fun night out but I have grown to crave more nuance when seeing Bond nowadays.  “Casino Royale” and “Skyfall” went further beneath the surface and deepened the spectrum.  As a result Craig’s Bond came closer to what Fleming had in mind from the start.  James Bond is dangerous, smart, resourceful and loyal.  In those better films he’s also been human.  Here’s to hoping his next adventure will bring that novel idea right on back. 

         

Take Shelter

The economic crisis of 2008 serves as the nasty underbelly of this compelling beast of a dramatic thriller directed by Iranian-American filmmaker, and Winston-Salem native, Ramin Bahrani (“Man Push Cart”). His latest morality tale stars Andrew Garfield (“The Social Network”) as Dennis Nash, a Florida construction worker and single father whose home falls under foreclosure. Nash and his family, consisting of his son Connor (Noah Lomax) and mother Lynn (Laura Dern), are thrown out of their home almost immediately after his court date by steely real-estate broker Rick Carver (Michael Shannon of HBOs “Boardwalk Empire”) and his gaggle of police escorts.

It’s at this point that “99 Homes” slips it’s potent hook into the viewer with a visceral immediacy as Carver and the police invade the Nash home watching Dennis scramble to gather what belongings he can within a few minutes notice. Shot mostly in one take the sequence builds incredible tension and places the viewer squarely in Nash’s shoes as a man literally pulled out of a home with little to no means of finance. He moves his family into a nearby motel for the time being and makes a number of calls to gain construction jobs which have slowed. Ironically enough, Nash is soon recruited by Carver on a construction job which leads to another and then Carver decides to take Nash under his wing as more of a realtoring personal assistant which becomes lucrative rather quickly.

Although seemingly a bit “Wall Street” within the confines of the mentor/protege arrangement that develops between Nash and Carver the film does succeed in making both characters identifiable people and neither complete hero or villain. Nash is very much a decent working-class everyman with no other agenda than to get money in the bank to provide for family while Carver is made out to be an aggressive opportunist who has found a way to game the financial system that once gamed him. And it doesn’t hurt that both Garfield and Shannon provide considerable shades of humanity in their respective roles.

The former Spiderman actor seems to relish the opportunity to play a more nuanced and mundane earthbound spirit who is hit with various ethical dilemmas at every turn. He imbues the scrappy Nash with a quiet integrity that becomes more and more at odds with the relationship he’s built with Carver to gain the money he needs to get his home back. And Garfield also brings a sharp emotional immediacy to the scenes where he’s sent to evict tenants himself (some of which seem to be non actors that only add to the films almost documentary style tone and dramatic rawness).

Yet as good as Garfield is as Nash, it’s Shannon’s performance that stings more and ultimately has the most impact. After playing the likes of hitman Richard “Iceman” Kuklinski and General Zod it’s no longer a surprise that Michael Shannon can play menacing in his sleep but it’s the way his character has become so accustomed to his entitlement that becomes most dynamic. Sporting various cream colored Tommy Bahama style suits and vaping away on E-Cigs, Carver has become a cultivated wolf in sheeps clothing. His no-nonsense business demeanor seduces Nash along with the trappings of a lavish lifestyle earned by tireless strategy. And Carver’s lack of compassion for people is boldly played by Shannon with striking moments of wry humor at others expense. One scene in particular stands out when Carver reveals a rare moment of his personal history as Nash asks for his house back. Flickers of backstory culminate into a fierce monologue shedding light onto how this shameless monster could have once been a decent man whose survivalist instincts eventually trumped his moral compass. The sheer power and honesty of the scene and how Shannon plays it consists of the best screen acting I’ve seen in a film this year.

As engrossing as “99 Homes” is during the first two thirds it does become problematic towards the end coming to an almost abrupt halt that seems a bit too convenient for a film that revels in such gritty authenticity. Needless to say conscience and business collide and good subdues evil, if only for a time. But Shannon’s compelling fire and the eviction scenes of various American citizens of varied creed and gender will continue to seep into the memory long after the tale comes to a convenient close. It’s a movie whose power lingers and for Bahrani and company that’s the point.