REVIEW: Hands of Stone

24 08 2016

It’s generally always a pleasure to hear the voice of Robert DeNiro, but “Hands of Stone” writer/director Jonathan Jakubowicz finds a way to render it ineffective. The legendary actor plays fabled Ray Arcel, yet for whatever reason, he gets tasked with telling the backstory of lightweight prizefighter Robert Duran (Edgar Ramirez). As he recounts a Panamanian youth tinted with rebellion against the United States’ neocolonialism, it raises the question … can’t Duran tell this story himself?

The film quickly jumps seven years and inexplicably turns Duran from scrappy youngster to full-blown man. At this point, one expects Arcel to assume center stage a little bit more as he elevates the boxing skills of his protege. But that moment never comes. He’s a glorified supporting character who, by virtue of being played by Robert DeNiro, has to hog a little bit of the spotlight. “Hands of Stone” should not be a two-hander, co-lead kind of film. But it is, and nearly every aspect of the film suffers from trying to much and achieving too little.

For example, “Hands of Stone” begins setting up Duran’s success in a clash of civilizations narrative. On television sets throughout the film, Jakubowicz plays out the diplomatic drama between America and Panama. Duran is positioned as an allegorical figure for his country to fight back against their perceived humiliation by the United States. But once Duran starts fighting Sugar Ray Leonard (Usher Raymond IV, as multi-platinum artist Usher would now you have call him), their rumbles in the ring becomes mere clashes of egos.

The film gets mired in far too many subplots beyond just Arcel’s presence. There’s the romantic lives of all three leading men – Duran, Arcel, Leonard – receiving way too much screen time. An estranged daughter abandoned by Arcel decades prior to the film’s events drops in for an odd scene. Yes, we get all of these things, but hardly any of what people really crave from boxing movies: rapport between trainer and fighter, genuine pulse-pounding fights, a sense that the sport actually means something more than just brute force. When it comes to what matters, “Hands of Stone” is just swinging at the air and whiffing. C-1halfstars





REVIEW: The Hollars

23 08 2016

The HollarsSundance Film Festival

With a tender blend of comedy and drama, solid work from a big ensemble cast comprised of some surprising players as well as an acoustic-heavy soundtrack, John Krasinski’s “The Hollars” more or less epitomizes the kind of film that put Sundance on the map. And yet precisely because Krasinski earnestly embraces just about every indie cliché, the film manages to move and delight.

Sure, we could probably do without Krasinski’s John Hollar, another struggling artist (a graphic novelist) who fumbles when it comes to commitment. But he’s worth taking a journey with since Krasinski endows him with the kind of idealized everyman charisma that he perfected in 9 years behind a desk in “The Office.” John does not hesitate to break down as his world collapses around him, and Krasinski is there with vulnerability and empathy.

Yes, we likely do not need another dying mother like Margo Martindale’s Sally Hollar, whose sudden brain tumor discovery brings John home from New York. A few minutes into her spewing Southern fried wisdom, however, and you hope she never stops. Sally knows exactly what to say to people while also possessing the uncommon gift of knowing when people need to hear her sharp observations. She’s the glue holding together the lives of her husband and two sons, and Martindale approaches her character’s dawning acceptance of the the inevitable with a truly moving grace.

Fine, we might not need the vast array of supporting turns. Anna Kendrick is delightful, per usual, as John’s newly pregnant girlfriend Rebecca, although the script gives her little to do besides constant worrying and supporting about her boyfriend. Charlie Day provides nice comic relief as a jealous ex-high school rival of John; the fast-talking pipsqueak routine is very in line with his persona, though. Richard Jenkins turns in another excellent performance as an emotionally distraught patriarch. (The only real surprise of “The Hollars” is Sharlto Copley, in his first non-effects driven film, as John’s unexplainably neurotic brother Ron.)

Complain all you want about this movie existing. Point out all the boxes it checks. But “The Hollars” is here whether you like it or not, and Krasinski welcomes all with a wide embrace and an open heart. Be it your first or umpteenth indie family dramedy, the genuineness of the film can be disarming for those willing to let their guard down and just fall for its charms. B2halfstars





REVIEW: Brief Interviews with Hideous Men

22 08 2016

Brief Interviews with Hideous MenSay what you want about John Krasinski’s directorial debut, an adaptation of David Foster Wallace’s book “Brief Interviews with Hideous Men,” but you cannot say the film does not fulfill its title. At just 80 minutes, it is brief. The film consists primarily of interviews of males conducted by conducted by graduate student Sarah Quinn (Julianne Nicholson). And for the most part, they are, in fact, rather hideous.

These men are not murderers and rapists; they are mostly just average schmoes with the potential for violence and misconduct lurking underneath their civilized veneers. All Sarah has to do is poke a tiny hole with her questioning, and it opens up their insides to reveal startlingly primal forces at the wheel of the decision-making process. While Nicholson does a fine job with her probing, it’s hard to shake the sense that most of the heavy-hitting investigation comes from Wallace as a writer – not from her as a character.

Krasinski’s first outing as a director seems primarily focused with letting the words shine and the performances breathe. (Two very important tasks, mind you!) He treats Wallace’s prose with the sanctity of a theatrical director regarding the words of Arthur Miller or Tennessee Williams, which might explain why so much of “Brief Interviews with Hideous Men” feels like filmed theater. It’s a show I’d want to see, though – particularly one centered around Krasinski’s own character in the film, Ryan. He delivers a powerful nine-minute monologue that deserves to serve as the climax of an entire film about his character, not just a mere episode in a collection of vignettes.

But “Brief Interviews from Hideous Men” comes from a collection of Wallace’s short stories, and the film retains that sense of brevity. Like many an episodic narrative, it practically invites being judged and weighed as a collection of parts rather than their sum. Some portions work; others drag. Some interviews enlighten; others preach to the choir. All of brief, for better or for worse. B-2stars





INTERVIEW: Chad Hartigan, writer/director of “Morris from America”

21 08 2016

In case you haven’t noticed from talented actors committing major blunders or fouls in an interview, the press process is long and grueling. I’ve sat at many a roundtable where journalists ask the most basic questions that were probably answered in the press kit (that the same interviewer probably chose not to read). In many ways, I almost cannot even blame talented filmmakers for getting frustrated right off the bat when beginning an interview.

That’s not what happened when I sat down with Chad Hartigan, writer/director of “Morris from America” – in case you thought that’s where my lede was heading. Quite the contrary, actually. He had a level of respect for my questions due in large part to the fact that he himself spent many years doing writing about film himself on the site In Contention. Hartigan was also just three hours removed from the rapturous premiere of his latest film in front of the largest auditorium at the Sundance Film Festival, which didn’t hurt either.

But search “In Contention” here on my site, and you’ll see just how formative that site was for my opinions and writing style in the early days of Marshall and the Movies. Hartigan served as their box office writer, a hat he wore on the side while pursuing filmmaking. We got to talking about both sides of his persona and how they didn’t really collide in “Morris from America,” a sincere and hilarious coming-of-age comedy about a black teenager (Markees Christmas’ Morris) and his widowed father (Craig Robinson’s Curtis) trying to acculturate in a small German town.

Chad Hartigan Sundance Award

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REVIEW: The Hangover

20 08 2016

When I started writing this site over 7 years ago, it was the summer of “The Hangover.” This comedy sensation that came out of nowhere spawned Facebook wall posts and bumper stickers (remember those?) by the dozen. Lines entered the cultural lexicon at an unprecedented rate. Amidst 2009’s pretty great lineup of studio and indie entertainment, this was a film you wanted to go back and see again.

Obviously, much has changed since then. The original sensation went onto inspire a blatant cash-grab carbon copy sequel, and when director Todd Phillips and the Wolfpack tried to change courses for a third film, no one seemed to care anymore. By that point, Bradley Cooper reemerged as an Oscar-caliber actor, Ed Helms got bumped up the big desk at TV’s “The Office,” and Zach Galifianakis’ career began to sputter out doing similar schtick. Todd Phillips has only just returned to the directors’ chair, and unsurprisingly, he’s doing a bit of a career pivot of his own a la Adam McKay.

But do all these transformations do anything to diminish the original? Does “The Hangover” deserve to sit on such a high pedestal? Have all the rip-offs and imitators it spawned tarnished the sheen? Or, perhaps a bigger personal question for me … is the film so great because it came out around my 17-year-old summer? (A recent article on The Ringer made a pretty compelling case for why that year seems to always stand out when polling people’s favorite summer movie season.)

I rewatched start to finish the film for the first time in several years; I specify because I watched five to ten minute snippets constantly for the year or two it dominated HBO airwaves. The short answer – yes, it still holds up. Years later, “The Hangover” is one of the few comedies that can generate chuckles and belly laughs from home.

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REVIEW: Don’t Think Twice

19 08 2016

Don't Think Twice“Comedy shouldn’t be a competition,” says someone from the New York improv group known as The Commune while watching “Weekend Live” (an obvious stand-in for “Saturday Night Live”) in “Don’t Think Twice.” Listen to a long-form interview with a real-life comedian – or better yet, read Kliph Nesteroff’s superlative history of the craft, “The Comedians” – and you’ll know that Lorne Michaels’ comedy institution is truly the end-all, be-all for anyone in the field. There is no getting around the fact that the show represents a kind of Holy Grail for comedians.

The reality stemming from the position of one show as a kind of de facto finish line for comedians does, in fact, make comedy a competition. It’s an objective result created by subjective criteria. There become winners and losers based on seemingly arbitrary, unknowable preferences. Acknowledging this provides cold comfort for aspiring performers and writers who can make tremendous sacrifices to pursue their dreams for years only to get upstreamed by someone fresher, newer … or maybe just more talented.

This existential dilemma forms the bedrock of Mike Birbiglia’s film as Commune member Jack (Keegan-Michael Key) gets the big call up from “Weekend Live.” The timing could not be worse, either, as the group faces an imminent crisis of continuation with the loss of their performing venue. If Jack is the chosen one from their troupe, then what becomes of everyone else who he cannot pull up?

Everyone deals with the reckoning in their own way – continue in comedy? Find a new group? Trudge ahead on the same path? Give up? Everything is on the table, and with their inflection point imminent, it brings out an urgency and honesty in every person. Birbiglia gives each character a story, a purpose and a chance to speak their mind without judgement – a remarkable feat given the Commune’s six comedians. The anxieties are highly specific to their field of choice, yet because of that, their internal tussles feel entirely relevant to anyone in an industry without a clear-cut trajectory of professional advancement.

There may well be someone in the film (mine was Gillian Jacobs’ Samantha, a spot-on representation of what it’s like to fear the next step in your career) who speaks to you directly. But you wouldn’t pluck him or her out of “Don’t Think Twice” and silence the other five members, right? There’s something special about hearing all the voices in an improvisational chorus, not a forced isolation. B+ / 3stars





F.I.L.M. of the Week (August 18, 2016)

18 08 2016

IRMA.poster.1/2.output-finalMovies about movies are a dime a dozen these days, especially when three of the last five Oscar winners for Best Picture have centered on filmmaking. Understandably, many of these ultimately end up taking a stance or attitude that celebrates and valorizes the work done in the industry. (Otherwise, why make it – right?)

Olivier Assayas’ “Irma Vep,” on the other hand, is in a class of its own. The 1996 film plays like a backstage drama most commonly penned about the stage, but it highlights the inner workings and unglamorous minutiae of the collision of film art and commerce. There is far more discussion about international rights than talking through script mechanics, more trudging through the unglamorous technicalities of capturing image and sound than celebrating the magic of filmmaking.

Assayas does not resort to easy or obvious satire, either, that might lighten the blows he delivers. This pick for the “F.I.L.M. of the Week” is a scalding but well-considered dramatization of the issues plaguing French, American and world cinema in the mid-1990s. This time period is one where the Nouvelle Vogue began to fade, the blockbuster era in America began to crowd out artistry and the globalization of cinema spread more anxieties than ideas. “Irma Vep” captures a moment in high definition with the kind of clarity that usually comes only when examining a period retroactively.

Perhaps the situation at the center of the film was helpful in achieving such sharp commentary. Actress Maggie Cheung, playing herself, arrives in Paris to film an oddly conceived remake of a vampire-centric silent film. The role seems an odd fit for the actress, who prior to the film – both in the world of the film and reality – had yet to star in anything outside of her native Hong Kong. But it proceeds on thanks to the folly of over-the-hill director René Vidal (a perfect meta-textually cast Jean-Pierre Leaud of “The 400 Blows” fame) to hostility from the hard-working crew. The misadventures that follow raise fascinating questions about the state of cinema, many of which we have still yet to collectively answer – to our own detriment.





REVIEW: Morris from America

17 08 2016

Morris from AmericaSundance Film Festival

Diversity. Representation. Inclusion.

If you follow the conversation about what movies get made and who gets to make them, these buzzwords probably sound all too familiar. As the expansive world of filmed content continues to strive towards matching the demographic makeup of America, the oft-repeated dictum of “write what you know” takes on a scrambled significance. Who gets to tell whose stories while we wait for more storytellers? Can any meaningful progress be made for the characters on-screen in the meantime?

Chad Hartigan’s “Morris from America” offers a ray of sunshine in this debate. His accomplishment suggests our chicken-or-egg mentality when thinking about these complex issues need not guide all discourse. The writer/director spent a portion of his childhood living abroad in Europe and started writing a coming-of-age tale in that milieu. But to differentiate his film from the herd of similar flicks in the subgenre, Hartigan decided to change the race of the main characters as a way of further exploring their alienation in foreign lands.

How refreshing to see that a filmmaker can produce a work that is at once wholly personal and entirely open to assuming other people’s vantage points. (A most welcome side effect: this process also rids the film of the narcissism and self-indulgence that plagues so many indies.) “Morris from America” does not feel exploitatively race-swapped to push a cheap metaphor or argue a naive colorblindness. It strikes an appropriate balance between familiar and unfamiliar as well as comforting and daring. In other words, it’s a lot like the contradictions that define being an adolescent as a whole.

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REVIEW: War Dogs

16 08 2016

War DogsIt takes about an hour into Todd Phillips’ “War Dogs” to realize the true colors of the film’s subjects. As they discuss a deal to arm Afghani soldiers with millions of bullets, top Army officials look across their table.

On the left is a man who possesses an everyman-style swagger, a sharp knack for business and a reservoir of nobility should he choose to tap into it. On his right is a man who seems to have little in the way of conscience or prudence, a cunning manipulator who cares little for the body count left in his wake so long as his bank account grows. And then beneath these pictures of George W. Bush and Dick Cheney sit their respective counterparts in the film, actors Miles Teller and Jonah Hill as David Packouz and Efraim Diveroli.

“War Dogs” is the Bush-Cheney partnership reimagined as a buddy comedy of hapless warmongering and reckless profit hunting. If ever there were an indication that the military-industrial complex had officially jumped the shark, it would be this story during this war. As a way to offset accusations of cronyism, the Pentagon set up an online database that allowed all contractors access to military deals. While industry giants still nabbed the biggest deals, Efraim’s business strategy stems from picking up the crumbs – “like a rat,” in his own words.

Phillips along with co-writers Stephen Chin and Jason Smilovic would have us believe that the company Efraim lures David into partnering with him, AEY Inc., is the equivalent of the geniuses of “The Big Short” who spotted the leak in the mortgage market. (The film certainly features gratuitous grafts from Adam McKay’s stylistic masterstrokes to make the parallels, too – down to the freeze-frames and quotation-fronted chapter divisions.) But while Phillips may have that film on the brain, the dark heart of “War Dogs” bears a far greater resemblance to another film about fools who wrecked the economic futures of hard-working people.

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REVIEW: Hell or High Water

15 08 2016

Hell or High Water“3 tours in Iraq but no bailout for people like us,” reads an eerily accurate graffiti tag on a West Texas building in the opening shot of “Hell or High Water.” The scrawled phrase of anger provides a fitting epigraph for the events to follow. Within the framework of the Western sheriff and bank robber folklore, screenwriter Taylor Sheridan finds the ideal setting for an examination of post-recession fallout and the remnants of small towns left behind by the behemoth economic forces of urbanization and globalization.

Anxiety, even anger, over forces out of these humble folks’ control seeps into virtually every corner of the film. Jeff Bridges’ Marcus Hamilton, a graying Texas Ranger, receives a Mandatory Retirement Notice in his first scene. A video surveillance system fails to capture a bank robbery because the management team has yet to fully make the change from VCR to digital recording. A farmer herding animals across a road frustratedly exclaims, “Wonder why my kids won’t do this shit for a living?” Everything in this provincial world seems on the verge of collapse at an accelerating rate.

And in the midst of all this turmoil, two estranged brothers unite for a spree of low-impact bank heists to pay off the ludicrous reverse mortgage their family was swindled into taking out on their farm. This “rob the rich” mentality has been rippling through American cinema in the years following the Occupy movement, but scarcely has it felt more poignant or less politically charged as it does in “Hell or High Water.” In a racket where bankers – those who men who “look like [they] could foreclose on a house” – rig the rules in their own interest, what hope is there besides throwing the system into disarray and tipping the scales in one’s own favor?

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REVIEW: Pete’s Dragon

14 08 2016

Disney has been trading on easy callbacks to their animated classics for the past half-decade or so, using new technologies to reiterate their well-established old stories. This style is valid, sure, but largely empty. From “Alice in Wonderland” to “Cinderella” and “The Jungle Book,” the Mouse House shortchanges the creation of childhood memories by pandering to adults (or at least older) viewers who already have such experiences.

With “Pete’s Dragon,” however, the studio takes a step in the right direction. Co-writer and director David Lowery, working with one of Disney’s lesser known archival properties, makes a more poignant homage to the iconic French short “The Red Balloon” than to the original 1977 film. It’s a glimpse of what these remakes can be when unyoked from nostalgia and blatant commercial pandering.

Lowery brings an elegant simplicity to this fairytale-like story involving a hairy green CGI dragon and the wilderness-dwelling orphan named Pete (Oakes Fegley) with a unique ability to corral the giant mythical creature. When a plucky park ranger, Bryce Dallas Howard’s Grace, stumbles upon Pete during a routine walkthrough, the discovery transforms his life by bringing him in contact with people once again.

But the beginnings of Pete’s reintegration into polite society also raises the possibility that others might find the dragon – and they might not possess the same magnanimity of spirit as Grace. When the dragon ultimately does become known to the small Pacific Northwestern town, his mysterious intent instantly divides the community into those who fear the unknown and those who have faith in its goodness.

“Pete’s Dragon” soars towards its powerful close as Lowery and writing partner Toby Halbrooks celebrate our capacity for belief. This ability need not be tethered to some childlike wonder; rather, it is an inherent quality accessible to anyone should they choose to do so. The film’s folksy, plucky spirit only underscores the authenticity of this yarn about listening, learning and loving. B2halfstars





REVIEW: Going Away

13 08 2016

Going AwayThe stakes are high in Nicole Garcia’s “Going Away.” A distraught, deadbeat mom (Louise Bourgoin’s Sandra) owes £50,000 to her creditors. Her child’s teacher (Pierre Rochefort’s Baptiste) arrives to drop off her son at this most inopportune moment, yet he also harbors secrets and shames of his own.

More importantly, he comes from a wealthy family in France who can easily supply enough money for Sandra’s financial woes. The problem is … Baptiste has to go and ask for it. The process of importuning the family for the money he previously then reopens old and contentious wounds.

The main plot of the film itself seems like more than enough to generate tension without even factoring in the complex paternal/professorial relationship between Baptiste and young Mathias. (Or his romantic entanglement with Sandra, for that matter.) Yet everything in “Going Away” feels undercooked and underplayed. It’s like watching a filmed outline for a French take on Tennessee Williams. The bare bones of conflict are there, but the meaty dialogue and action that really reveals character dynamics is largely absent. B-2stars





REVIEW: Ixcanul

12 08 2016

IxcanulThe opening shot of Jayo Bustamante’s “Ixcanul” shows the film’s protagonist, María (María Mercedes Coroy), acted upon. As her family dresses her in ceremonial garb for a courtship ritual, María’s eyes glance downward. It’s a moment she wants to escape, and she spends most of the movie on a journey to earn the agency to make a move for herself.

The sheltered Guatemalan girl growing up around the rim of a volcano (“Ixcanul” translates to “volcano”) in a tight-knit indigenous Kaqchikehl-speaking Mayan community. As likely as for any burgeoning woman, María receives a biological impulse to explore her own sexuality as her parents plan to marry her off to an older gentleman. In the fashion of “Their Eyes Were Watching God,” she discovers some of her passion by enacting her romantic fantasies on an unwitting tree.

María’s discovery of her sexual drive lays to waste the best laid plans of her family as interactions with a friend more her age lead to a growing problem. The situation ultimately forces all of them to burst their regional bubble and encounter the country’s Spanish-speaking population, posing tough questions about their cultural isolation. Something is gained by remaining so deeply rooted in their Mayan heritage, though there is definitely something to be said for certain modern technologies and developments.

The specifics of “Ixcanul” may feel new to viewers unfamiliar with Central American identity, though the overarching themes are quite familiar. Bustamante makes the deliberations decently compelling in their own right, yet much of the film’s appeal seems derived from its novelty. B2halfstars





F.I.L.M. of the Week (August 11, 2016)

11 08 2016

Ain't Them Bodies SaintsWhen I first watched David Lowery’s “Ain’t Them Bodies Saints,” my initial impression was that it amounted to one of the better spate of Malick-lite films spawned in the wake of “The Tree of Life.” Look for that and you’ll see all the hallmarks: floating camera, internal dialogue drifting through scenes, bucolic settings, deep contemplation.

But seeing that and only that misses all the film has to offer elsewhere. (To be fair, this probably was not a great movie to watch while jet-lagged after just arriving for a semester abroad in Europe.) “Ain’t Them Bodies Saints” is more than just an explosion of technical virtuosity from Lowery and director of photography Bradford Young, who has since gone on to lens such notable works as “Selma” and “A Most Violent Year.” It is my choice for the “F.I.L.M. of the Week” because its outer beauty helps expose the inner beauty of its epistolary love story.

At the core of the film is Rooney Mara’s steely Ruth Guthrie, a Texas woman caught between the man who stole her heart (Casey Affleck’s Bob Muldoon) and the officer who helped put Bob behind bars (Ben Foster’s Patrick Wheeler). Don’t call it a love triangle, though. Mara remains stone-faced as if she has erected the ultimate shield to mask her internal bewilderment over all that transpires. The choice ahead is one of great magnitude, and her strategy for coming to grips relies on downplaying her decision.

“Ain’t Them Bodies Saints” does contain a storyline running parallel to its main plot involving Bob’s escape from prison and surreptitious journey back to reclaim Ruth. Affleck brings his usual grizzled intensity to the role, but make no mistake, the film is all Mara.





REVIEW: Life, Animated

10 08 2016

Life, AnimatedOdds are, anyone watching the documentary “Life, Animated” will feel some common ground with the film’s subject. As a young child, Owen Suskind developed autism so severe that he lost motor and verbal capabilities. Animated movies were, as one of his parents put it, a “rescue mission to pull him out” of his condition.

The characters on screen allowed him to understand, experience and then express the world. It’s a sensation many of us share with our favorite flicks, though it is rare to find a case where the affinity is so strong that it can literally spark physical transformation. The extent to which Owen’s family encourages his passion sparks not only tremendous personal growth but also a veritable cinephile community centered around Disney animation in his special needs school.

The film itself details the power of animation in Owen’s life, yet it also adds a big narrative dimension. At the time Roger Ross Williams’ camera rolls, Owen is preparing to live independently of parents and teachers as well as secure employment. This aspect is touching, sure, but it lacks the same compelling pull as the emerging field of science known as “affinity therapy” that arose from cases like Owen.

As presented, “Life, Animated” feels stretched to 90 minutes when it could just as easily be shrunk into a profile on a news magazine show – or something like t. (Probably “Good Morning America” because Disney.) Redeeming moments come most often in scenes Owen shares with his older brother, Walt, who has come to the realization that he will soon be caretaker for both his parents and sibling. These feelings are, of course, only ones he expresses in private. When he’s out playing putt-putt or popping in a VHS tape with his brother, nothing but pure love and support emanates. The film echoes his graciousness of spirit, with perhaps a similar moment here or there of slippage. B2halfstars