A Review of Last Night (Tadjedin, 2010)

Last Night

Directed by Massy Tadjedin

Starring: Keira Knightley, Sam Worthington, Eva Mendes, Guillaume Canet

Grade: C

Written for In Review Online:

While Mike Nichols’ “Closer” asserted that the heart was ‘a fist wrapped in blood’ first-time director Massy Tadjedin’s “Last Night” offers up a more tender impression of cosmopolitan infidelity. The values of the high-class city dwellers in this New York-set relationship drama aren’t quite as brazenly hypocritical as their London counterparts, but the themes remain the same. Things aren’t all Sauvignon and smiles in the Big Apple: when the world is right at your doorstep it’s easy to wonder if there are tastier morsels to devour, or if the right one somehow got away.

Keira Knightley as Joanna entertains that very idea when her businessman husband Michael (Worthington) has his head turned by a confident colleague. Once Michael makes off on a nightcap-laden business trip with the object of his wife’s scorn, both marriages are tested. Joanna bumps into dashing old flame Alex (Canet), whose French charms come out to play when he invites her to a friend’s party, thus instigating flashes of flirtation, pangs of regret, and reminiscence about what might have been had their fling not fizzled to a fickle close.

You’d be forgiven for assuming that the film is going to be a more tempestuous affair when minutes-in there’s a jealous row between the pretty pair. Knightley, drunk and acid-tongued in her sarcastic version of envy, flaunts the attempts of her character to rile the placid immovability of her other half, and his insistence upon viewing workmate Laura (Mendes) as just that: another suited member of the office. Where Nichols might have probed Joanna’s frustration with cries of “You want to fuck her – don’t you?” Tadjedin opts for the other extreme and fills the room with chilly, dead air. The couple stare at the empty space between them as, presumably, a method of telegraphing their devolved lack of communication, but what’s exposed instead is the hollowness of their on-screen relationship.

Through lack of scriptural substance and chemistry, “Last Night” doesn’t generate a strong enough sense of how Joanna and Michael fit together, and therefore builds a weak platform for its ideas about romantic disconnection. The deluge of personal one-to-one exchanges make the project feel born of the stage, but as an exercise in acting much of it feels superficially and consciously constructed. This is especially true of the scenes between Worthington and Mendes, which oscillate between genial banter and limp displays of longing, as he in particular suffers under the weight of having to add layers to an attraction that doesn’t have many. By contrast, Knightley’s and Canet’s scenes together gather more flickers of emotion and backstory, and their undeniable candour at least partly atones for the turgid foreplay of the other pairing. Knightley, much more effective in this environment, is the only one of the foursome who really finds a footing within the script. Her playful nature has always been her prize asset, and she utilises it here to colour Joanna’s attachment to Alex as neither exclusive in its genuine re-kindling of feeling, nor as an impulsively selfish revenge tactic. Her awareness and expansion of the character is the single finest element “Last Night” has to offer.

Throughout the muted drama Tadjedin mediates the level of infidelity to deter us from taking a particular side, but in the process limits the level of involvement we can have with either half. The director’s desire to eventually lead us to a tentative but neat conclusion is exposed too early, and the mirroring story strands feel awfully subdued, to the extent that it's nearly impossible to become immersed in what little drama there is. In its glacially-presented platitudes of what constitutes losing touch with a partner, “Last Night” asserts that sex is a restless necessity, and charts moral descension as a uniformly dull and inevitable reality. Even if sex is bound to happen, one thing it shouldn’t be is boring. As the cinematic equivalent of a cocktease, “Last Night” is the least potent attempt to stoke the embers since Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck got steamy in “Gigli.”

The use of familiar techniques to illicit and address temptation leaves “Last Night” open to interrogation; what – if anything – new is it telling us about how we deal with trust and guilt in relationships, and what value we put on monogamy? It’s uncertain whether the film’s course of events is intended as an affirming wake-up call for its participants, or a grim overview of how one can settle for a lifestyle because it feels like the correct option. If an answer lies in the final shot of Knightley, mouth agape in searching for a response to her other half’s mundane enquiry, it’s as ambiguous an ending as one could’ve hoped for. The deliberate lack of finality feels somehow fitting of a film that has as paltry a level of conviction as “Last Night” does, and even less of an idea of how to ruminate about love and sex without shying away from the nitty-gritty.

Like many domestic dramas there’s a strong sense of “Singletons, beware!” in “Last Night,” and its quabbling quartet – as well as the wallowing solitude of spouses entrenched in the routine of married life. While Tadjedin’s film goes with the grain in detailing coupledom, it mainly depicts it as a dull melange of “I love you”/”I love you not” insinuations, which bear little context as it can’t flesh out its romantic proponents nearly enough. This is a riff on relationship crises, but the meagre, minimal dialogue and cautious bouts of disruption make “Last Night” a tedious affair, not without an improvisational sense of quality but ultimately a wan, anaemic commentary based on an eminently proverbial topic.

Bitesize Best Actress Oscar Profiles: Debbie Reynolds

Debbie Reynolds in "The Unsinkable Molly Brown"

Lost the Best Actress Oscar in 1964 to Julie Andrews in "Mary Poppins"

Grade: *

Somewhere in the annals of Oscar history lies Debbie Reynolds, neither completely shunned by AMPAS nor fully embraced; ignored for arguably her best performance (in "Singin' in the Rain") but rewarded for playing Denver's illustrious millionairess, the "Unsinkable" Molly Brown. Having earned that moniker for surviving the Titanic's fateful journey across the Atlantic, Brown is a role that most (including I) likely associate with Kathy Bates, who took it on for James Cameron's record-breaking 1997 blockbuster. In actuality, it stretches way back to 1964, a good thirty-two years after Molly herself passed away.

At the risk of disappointing those hoping for a slice of genuine action from Charles Walters' film, the sinking of the Titanic takes up less than five minutes of this already-bloated two hour biopic. The rest is dedicated to charting Molly's journey from Brash Missouri Upstart to Cultured Society Dame, beginning in the vein of Calamity Jane, with its brutishly technicolour approach to musical showpieces and reinforcement of rural community. Reynolds handles the goofiness of these early scenes by emphasising the raw, barely-civilised farm girl in Molly with all the subtlety of a newly-hatched pterodactyl, and doesn't much deviate from this technique for the first hour of "Unsinkable." To criticise Reynolds is to criticise Walters; slapping this much tedious, blue-collar theatrics onto the film feels like a vastly unnecessary way to colloquialise Molly, and one that Reynolds understandably struggles to involve herself with. Of the two opportunities she's afforded in this period, she doesn't manage to deepen Molly during either, first extending her wide-eyed shtick to accommodate faint joy in acquiring a dream house with fiancée Johnny. The second - and by far the most embarrassing scene in the film - sees her search tirelessly for a place to hide the couple's $300,000 worth of bonds, only to settle on laying them to rest at the bottom of the gas stove. Inevitably this does not end well, and the farcical nature of the situation leads Reynolds to regress into her munchkin version of vaudeville as she and her husband play a domestic version of Tag.

When Molly and Johnny move to Denver's lavish neighbourhood the central issue of its heroine is eventually revealed, as she willingly attempts to educate herself in social etiquette to fit in with the snobby society folks actively snubbing the Browns. At last a chance for Reynolds to document something less definite about Molly! As the couple venture through Europe in the hope of gaining valuable cultural knowledge, Reynolds gains figurative weight, excising the impulsiveness of Molly and revealing her heightened sense of self-awareness. A scene in which European friends celebrate her birthday is Reynolds' highlight, as she swigs a glass of champagne with visible glee, and sways it like a sceptre as she addresses them at the head of the table, inherently more careful about the grace of her actions than she ever has been before. She still has that inkling of the tearaway about her, but is using it to her advantage rather than exposing it as a stamp of who she is. Reynolds fares better in this period because she's able to hold the character in a more suspended state, but doesn't really carry this level of incisiveness over to the film's final act.

Reynolds' nomination feels particularly strange considering the striking parallels between the arc of Molly Brown and My Fair Lady's Eliza Dolittle, and the mild success of that film in coaxing a performance out of Audrey Hepburn that can detail the transcendence of social boundaries with patience and some finesse. Perhaps the crux of it was that Reynolds did her own singing? Either way, the diaphanous politics of Molly's quest for graces doesn't quite coax Reynolds out of becoming a passive figure for this greedily sprawling musical biography. The Titanic may not have been able to sink her, but I have no reservations about dropping this particular anchor at the one-star mark.

Oscar's Best Actress Category: And Then There Were 100

After my latest viewing of "The Unsinkable Molly Brown" I now have just 100 of Oscar's Best Actress nominees to see. I'm pretty sure which women I'm going to save 'til last, but for now, here are the ones left on the shelf:-

1. *Janet Gaynor, “Seventh Heaven” (1927-28)

2. *Janet Gaynor, “Street Angel” (1927-28)

3. Louise Dresser, “A Ship Comes In” (1927-28)

4. *Mary Pickford, “Coquette” (1928-29)

5. Ruth Chatterton, “Madame X” (1928-29)

6. Betty Compson, “The Barker” (1928-29)

7. Corinne Griffith, “The Divine Lady” (1928-29)

8. Bessie Love, “The Broadway Melody” (1928-29)

9. Greta Garbo, “Anna Christie” (1929-30)

10. Greta Garbo, Romance” (1929-30)

11. Norma Shearer, “Their Own Desire” (1929-30)

12. Gloria Swanson, “The Trespasser” (1929-30)

13. *Helen Hayes, “The Sin of Madelon Claudet” (1931-32)

14. Marie Dressler, “Emma” (1931-32)

15. Lynn Fontanne, “The Guardsman” (1931-32)

16. *Katharine Hepburn, “Morning Glory” (1932-33)

17. Diana Wynyard, “Cavalcade” (1932-33)

18. Elisabeth Bergner, “Escape Me Never” (1935)

19. Irene Dunne, “Theodora Goes Wild” (1936)

20. Norma Shearer, “Romeo and Juliet” (1936)

21. *Luise Rainer, “The Good Earth” (1937)

22. Barbara Stanwyck, “Stella Dallas” (1937)

23. Fay Bainter, “White Banners” (1938)

24. Margaret Sullavan, “Three Comrades” (1938)

25. Irene Dunne, “Love Affair” (1939)

26. Martha Scott, “Our Town” (1940)

27. Olivia De Havilland, “Hold Back the Dawn” (1941)

28. Katharine Hepburn, “Woman of the Year” (1942)

29. Rosalind Russell, “My Sister Eileen” (1942)

30. Joan Fontaine, “The Constant Nymph” (1943)

31. Greer Garson, “Madame Curie” (1943)

32. Ingrid Bergman, “The Bells of St. Mary’s” (1945)

33. Greer Garson, “The Valley of Decision” (1945)

34. *Olivia De Havilland, “To Each His Own” (1946)

35. Jane Wyman, “The Yearling” (1946)

36. *Loretta Young, “The Farmer’s Daughter” (1947)

37. Rosalind Russell, “Mourning Becomes Electra” (1947)

38. *Jane Wyman, “Johnny Belinda” (1948)

39. Ingrid Bergman, “Joan of Arc” (1948)

40. Irene Dunne, “I Remember Mama” (1948)

41. Jeanne Crain, “Pinky” (1949)

42. Susan Hayward, “My Foolish Heart” (1949)

43. Deborah Kerr, “Edward, My Son” (1949)

44. Jane Wyman, “The Blue Veil” (1951)

45. Julie Harris, “The Member of the Wedding” (1952)

46. Leslie Caron, “Lili” (1953)

47. Jane Wyman, “Magnificent Obsession” (1954)

48. *Anna Magnani, “The Rose Tattoo” (1955)

49. Eleanor Parker, “Interrupted Melody” (1955)

50. Carroll Baker, “Baby Doll” (1956)

51. Nancy Kelly, “The Bad Seed” (1956)

52. Anna Magnani, “Wild is the Wind” (1957)

53. Elizabeth Taylor, “Raintree County” (1957)

54. Lana Turner, “Peyton Place” (1957)

55. Melina Mercouri, “Never on Sunday” (1960)

56. *Sophia Loren, “Two Women” (1961)

57. Rachel Roberts, “This Sporting Life” (1963)

58. Sophia Loren, “Marriage, Italian Style” (1964)

59. Elizabeth Hartman, “A Patch of Blue” (1965)

60. Simone Signoret, “Ship of Fools” (1965)

61. Anouk Aimee, “A Man and a Woman” (1966)

62. Ida Kaminska, “The Shop on Main Street” (1966)

63. Vanessa Redgrave, “Morgan: A Suitable Case for Treatment” (1966)

64. Patricia Neal, “The Subject Was Roses” (1968)

65. Vanessa Redgrave, “Isadora” (1968)

66. Genevieve Bujold, “Anne of the Thousand Days” (1969)

67. Jane Alexander, “The Great White Hope” (1970)

68. Diana Ross, “Lady Sings the Blues” (1972)

69. Liv Ullmann, “The Emigrants” (1972)

70. *Glenda Jackson, “A Touch of Class” (1973)

71. Marsha Mason, “Cinderella Liberty” (1973)

72. Ann-Margret, “Tommy” (1975)

73. Glenda Jackson, “Hedda” (1975)

74. Carol Kane, “Hester Street” (1975)

75. Marie-Christine Barrault, “Cousin Cousine” (1976)

76. Liv Ullmann, “Face to Face” (1976)

77. Jane Fonda, “Julia” (1977)

78. Jill Clayburgh, “An Unmarried Woman” (1978)

79. Geraldine Page, “Interiors” (1978)

80. Marsha Mason, “Chapter Two” (1979)

81. Ellen Burstyn, “Resurrection” (1980)

82. Jessica Lange, “Sweet Dreams” (1985)

83. Meryl Streep, “Out of Africa” (1985)

84. Jane Fonda, “The Morning After” (1986)

85. Sally Kirkland, “Anna” (1987)

86. Meryl Streep, “Ironweed” (1987)

87. Isabelle Adjani, “Camille Claudel” (1989)

88. Anjelica Huston, “The Grifters” (1990)

89. Joanne Woodward, “Mr. and Mrs. Bridge” (1990)

90. Bette Midler, “For the Boys” (1991)

91. *Emma Thompson, “Howard’s End” (1992)

92. Catherine Deneuve, “Indochine” (1992)

93. Mary McDonnell, “Passion Fish” (1992)

94. Miranda Richardson, “Tom and Viv” (1994)

95. Winona Ryder, “Little Women” (1994)

96. Diane Keaton, “Marvin’s Room” (1996)

97. Emily Watson, “Breaking the Waves” (1996)

98. Julie Christie, “Afterglow” (1997)

99. Cate Blanchett, “Elizabeth” (1998)

100. Meryl Streep, “Music of the Heart” (1999)

I have access to all but two of them - Gloria Swanson and Betty Compson. If anybody knows where/if these are available in the UK, and where they might be screening, hit me up. 

Some Like It Hot Cold: Margaret vs. Marilyn

I have a confession (albeit perhaps an unsurprising one): I dislike biopics. They tend to focus too intensely on historical events of impact and perceived pivotal moments to chart a person's character, instead of actively trying to dissect who that person was, and what they represented. Two biopics slated for release later this year have me a little worried, but the women at the head of them are enough to ensure that both are required viewing.


When Meryl Streep signed on to play Margaret Thatcher in a biopic of her period as Prime Minister of the U.K, I was more than a little sceptical. It can often be difficult to separate feelings towards an actor and the real-life role they are portraying - especially if said role is somebody you heavily resent. Streep's generosity and warmth as a personality and Actress so heavily contravene the icy, dutiful stubbornness of the aptly-titled "Iron Lady," and so imagining her in the part instils a degree of trepidation. In Streep's few misjudged and overly-mannered performances (most recently in "Lions For Lambs" and "Doubt") she seems to be too sure of her character's misgivings, and their inability to restrain them. As Sister Aloysius Beauvier this is a particular problem, as she telegraphs the motivations of the nun as a tyrannical catalyst of drama more than she alludes to her genuine concerns for colleagues, dependants, and the church itself.

Without painting too harsh an impression of Mrs. Thatcher, one does have to concede that she was a formidable, disconcerting presence, and was legitimately hated by a large portion of the people she governed. If Streep can generate empathy while maintaining the lady's harsh exterior and cut-throat approach to politics, and do it with more fluidity than Helen Mirren brought to Queen Elizabeth II, then it could be a genuine triumph. In terms of Awards probability, the film would have to be a complete disaster to prevent Streep grabbing a record 17th nomination at next year's Oscars, and even with "Mamma Mia!" director Phyllida Lloyd at the helm, I highly doubt that the reviews will be negative enough to deter voters. Think Cate Blanchett in 2007 (or don't, if you're still squeamish about that Jolie snub.)

In the second of the big 2011 biopics, Michelle Williams might have a more difficult time getting people to accept her efforts, as she has the burdening task of embodying screen siren and Hollywood icon Marilyn Monroe. Simon Curtis' "My Week With Marilyn," will focus particularly on the time Monroe spent filming "The Prince and the Showgirl" with Lawrence Olivier, and the arc of their relationship together.

Oft-portrayed on screen, Monroe probably possessed more sexuality as an Actress than any other, which was as inclined to rub people up the wrong way as much as it loosened them to her undoubted comedic charm. As an actress, I don't think Williams has shown enough attitude and panache in the Scarlet side of her character to suggest that this is, on the face of it, a wise casting choice, but her record in recent years speaks for itself. She has shown herself to be the Queen of picking projects, even capable of elevating the worst of them (Martin Scorsese's shoddy "Shutter Island") with a small, but introspectively devastating turn.

In addition to "My Week With Marilyn", and having already featured in Kelly Reichardt's "Meek's Cutoff" (the April release that, for me, remains the film to beat in 2011), she also features in Sarah Polley's forthcoming romantic comedy, "Take This Waltz." The biggest obstacle to Williams' chances might be that she actively seems to avoid films that the media can get excited by, and which can gather steam at the box-office. Personally, I think that's a great way to approach acting, but I'm fairly convinced she wouldn't get the populist support that Portman did last year for "Black Swan," unless the film somehow turned out to be a huge hit. She's in her early Thirties, but she isn't in the "star" bracket quite yet (whether she should be is an entirely different argument) and so I wonder how people will take to her tackling this enormously familiar persona.

While it remains ridiculously early to call either of these a lock for major nominations, too often it comes down to the role as much as the performance. I'd give the edge to Streep, since it has been nearly thirty years since she last won a golden guy, but Williams has been steadily becoming a brilliant actress, and I can't wait to see what she does with one of cinema's greatest comediennes.

George Clooney in 2011: The Ides of March vs. The Descendants

As has become somewhat customary in the past five or six years, George Clooney is likely to find himself in the Awards mix once again in 2011. The newly-celebrated quinquagenarian has two healthy-looking projects set for release in the later months: Alexander Payne's "The Descendants," and his own fourth directorial venture, "The Ides of March."

"The Descendants" is the story of an estranged father, who attempts to re-connect with his two daughters when their mother is fatally injured in an accident - which is likely to resurrect themes Payne explored in 2002's "About Schmidt" (namely, grief and personal crisis). Nevertheless, this film's cast is considerably younger, which might suggest that "The Descendants" represents a fresher take on familial struggle that doesn't focus too much on mortality. I wasn't much of a fan of "Schmidt," or indeed Jack Nicholson as its leading man, but many were enthused with what Payne did with the film, and it gained some major awards attention.

First clip from "The Descendants":







Clooney's own filmmaking efforts see him return to a political arena, which is hardly surprising after the critical and box office failure of "Leatherheads." I wasn't as keen on his first two directorial feats as most, but they both rank favourably compared to that 2008 screwball comedy. Latest film, "The Ides of March," will pit Ryan Gosling as an impassioned but fledgling politics enthusiast, who has his eyes opened to the dirty dealings of the political world while part of a Presidential campaign trail. Clooney also stars in the movie, which is based on a novel adapted by Grant Heslov, who he worked closely with on "Goodnight, and Good Luck."

Ryan Gosling and George Clooney on the set of "The Ides of March"

"Ides" is slated for October, while "The Descendants" is scheduled for a release in December, meaning that either/or is likely to make it to Venice or Toronto to build awards buzz. It could be that Clooney finds himself nominated for Director, Actor, and Supporting Actor (which would be one-up from 2005's achievements), but as with all Oscar prognostication at this early stage, it's far too easy to say. "Ides" feels more likely to succeed given that it's political and probably more mainstream than Alexander Payne's soul-bearing projects tend to be. One thing that is for sure: both are definitely encouraging for their respective leading actors.

"Dead End," and William Wyler's Way with Actors

This past weekend I sat down to watch William Wyler's "Dead End" knowing little more than it was one of Oscar's 1937 Best Picture nominees, and therefore required viewing. The film, which takes place over the course of one night, concerns the struggle between the upper and lower classes encased within an inner-city neighbourhood. Gangsters, prostitutes, and teenage delinquents prop up bureaucrats in healthily-detached luxurious apartments, as the two social factions clash, instigating the intervention of local police.

The charms of "Dead End" largely counter its wan misadventures: the rabble of streetwise teenagers and their guardian-of-sorts (a delectable Sylvia Sidney) furrowing a way-of-life for themselves amidst a society that's clearly neglecting them; the way Humphrey Bogart's gangster-character roams around the tenements staking his claim for the place, knowing that he's bigger, better, and worthy of bigger enemies than he entertains. These people are a small-scale impression of how civilisation works, and an undoubted part of the social commentary Wyler et. al are aiming to voice.

I'm not convinced that the film really commits enough to dramatising the social impact (an open-ended resolution for one of the characters emerges as neither here nor there), and it doesn't seem particularly concerned with delving into the motivations of the upper classes in this period either. From many of the films in the Thirties (including "Dead End") you can sense a tangible contempt of high society, but when you stack this project up against more comedic enterprises like "My Man Godfrey" and "Holiday" it doesn't quite cut it. Satire most likely gleaned better results because of the production code: it's harder to get around taboo issues when you're working harder to make a point?

Regardless of the merits and faults of the film I was surprised to learn that, as well as a Best Picture nomination, Claire Trevor managed to get a mention in the Best Supporting Actress category. It was the first of three for Trevor: she followed it up with a winning performance as an alcoholic in "Key Largo" (which also starred Humphrey Bogart), and a final nod in 1954 for William Wellman's "The High and the Mighty." The reward in "Dead End" came for playing a hooker and former love interest of Bogie's, who manages to coax some money from him in her extremely short amount of screen time. Suffice to say, I'm not really on board with this Academy pick, but her flailing dramatics in "Key Largo" - as well as the film itself - are definitely worth a look.

All of this talk of nominations led me to an informative article about William Wyler's penchant for getting Actors nominated for Oscars. Between 1936 and 1968 this happened 36 times, which is the most accumulated by any director by a comfortable margin (Elia Kazan takes runner-up with 25). He has also directed the most acting winners with 13. 


Those are:

Walter Brennan (for "Come and Get It" (1936) (co-directed with Howard Hawks)
Bette Davis (for "Jezebel" (1938))
Faye Bainter (for "Jezebel" (1938))
Walter Brennan (for "The Westerner" (1940))
Greer Garson (for "Mrs. Miniver" (1942))
Teresa Wright (for "Mrs. Miniver" (1942))
Fredric March (for "The Best Years of Our Lives" (1946))
Harold Russell (for The Best Years of Our Lives (1946))
Olivia de Havilland (for "The Heiress" (1949))
Audrey Hepburn (for "Roman Holiday" (1953))
Burl Ives (for "The Big Country" (1958))
Charlton Heston (for "Ben-Hur" (1959))
Hugh Griffith (for "Ben-Hur" (1959))
Barbra Streisand (for "Funny Girl" (1968))

I've seen all but 5 of the 36 (Brennan x2, Ives, Granville, Perkins). Save for Davis, Garson, and Streisand I'm not particularly impressed with many of these, but if you look at the 36 overall, it's a pretty good bunch. Egregious omissions would have to include Ruth Chatterton in "Dodsworth" (who I wrote about a while back) and Terrence Stamp in "The Collector". Both can feel aggrieved considering their co-stars were also nominated. 

How many have you seen, and which are the best?

A Review of Source Code (Jones, 2011)

Source Code

Directed by Duncan Jones

Starring: Jake Gyllenhaal, Michelle Monaghan, Vera Farmiga, Jeffrey Wright, Michael Arden

Grade: C

Written for In Review Online:

If debut feature "Moon" heavily suggested that director Duncan Jones was under the spell of Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey, his follow-up would appear to solidify that theory. Less overtly sci-fi based, in that it actually takes place on Earth, "Source Code" remains fundamentally about the battle between technology and human nature. Jones sets up a terrorist-thwarting plotline initiative and shrouds it in ethical dilemma: should science rule over humanity, or vice versa? It's hardly a novel struggle to address, but he takes a fresh approach to helping us invest in his ergonomic marvel, and creating a military setup which, unsurprisingly, considerably stretches traditional relations between time and space.

American soldier Colter Stevens (Gyllenhaal) forms the basis of this dilemma, as he wakes up in an unknown facility with only a monitor in front of him for comfort, and is informed that he is the subject of a technological program. The experimental system in question allows him to tap into the final eight minutes of the life of Sean Fentress, a passenger killed by a bomb planted on board a Chicago commuter train that morning. As he is able to assume Sean's position on the train in the period prior to the explosion, Colter's mission is to gather information about the terrorist plot, so as to prevent a larger-scale attack in the city later that day. In the meantime, he must veer between the two women in his life: Sean's colleague Christina (Monaghan), who is on board the train with him throughout every eight-minute segment, and Goodwin (Farmiga), the military employee commanding him in intervals throughout the process.

"Source Code" possesses a similar gimmick to 2007's Vantage Point in that it essentially replays the same eight minutes of time for most of the film, alternating between different eventualities and degrees of success. The level of suspense in the first half of the film, where it’s leaking exposition and constructing its situation, is fairly high. Gyllenhaal’s terrific energy elevates the entire project, as the characters on the train, and the dynamic between them, appears to develop naturally. He even coaxes Monaghan (an Actress who I’d previously found a little distant from previous on-screen love interests) into some gamely chemistry, as their relationship gathers steam.

It would be unfair to suggest that the film apes other projects (Tony Scott's Deja Vu (2006) for instance) in its allusive use of time-travel to fight crime, but there are definite parallels between their liberal attitudes towards logic. Either way, there isn't much wrong with how either film presents its technological capabilities: If Nicholas Cage and John Travolta can swap faces then anything's possible, right? The issue with "Source Code" is not that it's far-fetched, but that it loses sense of what it’s supposed to be. Its representation of terrorism for example – while not as 2-D as other cinematic depictions of villainy – centres around a damaged college student's personal insecurity. Michael Arden, as said student, recalls another Michael (Pitt, in "Funny Games"), and it feels as if he's stepped straight off of that set without deviating from its particular brand of idiosyncratic sadism a jot.

Since the essential action is compacted into a physically-limited vehicular setting, we aren’t really privy to an overall sense of the bigger picture in this particular day of terror for the nation. An opening-credits aerial sweep of Chicago is bracing enough at the time but retrospectively disingenuous, and the implied scope of the mission intoned in Colter’s hurried exchanges with Goodwin don’t really give us much of an idea either. For a high-concept thriller, “Source Code” frequently possesses such an inflated sense of grandeur: this isn’t a big, blazing sci-fi adventure, but rather an oft-personalised meditation on survival, and the tougher political consequences behind protocol. The multi-scenario format bounds on, as more of a conceit than a story, with a narrative that – in terms of dramatic impetus – flat-lines more often than it should. The stop-start structure soon becomes tiresome, and in the few moments where it reaches an unexpected plot-point, the film's dramatic devices read as a little desperate. In the way that "Moon" felt like it could have had more to offer, "Source Code" is overdone as a virtual-reality exercise, running out of steam far too quickly for a 90-minute feature.

Would it that the film’s finale held up to the rulebook it had outlined in the first place, “Source Code” just might have felt like a worthwhile addition to Jones’ filmography. As it happens, he too spurns his own protocol for a satisfying Hollywood finish. Jones may not be done with sci-fi yet, but one feels that he must collate his ideas more thoughtfully next time around. It may be somewhat original, but contrary to everything “Source Code” implies in a roundabout, flimsy final act, it somehow feels like the world has succumbed to its dangers after all: not with a bang, but a whimper.

Trailer Round-Up: Devil's Double, Immortals, What's Your Number

April has been a fairly slow month on the blog, but a handful of trailers caught my eye this week. Here's a few notes on each one.

The Devil's Double

Directed by Lee Tamahori

Release Date: 29/07/2011 (USA)

If you too winced at the thought of clean-cut Dominic Cooper taking on the role of Saddam Hussein's psychotic son, I hope you're backtracking as much as I am. As well as showcasing his performance as a greasier version of Jeremy Irons in "Dead Ringers" it also looks like quite a blast. And the comedy in the trailer doesn't feel so token as to distract from the main identity battle going on inside the mind of Hussein's body double. Perhaps the only drawback is that Tony Scott's "Domino" looked like similar kind of fun.

Immortals

Directed by Tarsem Singh

Release Date: 11/11/2011 (UK, USA)

Let me firstly breathe a huge sigh of disappointment that the immensely-talented Tarsem Singh has chosen to make a film about Greek Gods, but I will applaude him for the triple-threat casting of dishiness in Henry Cavill, Kellan Lutz, and Stephen Dorff. I'm not quite sure what Mickey Rourke is doing in this trailer (I can't see past that bonkers head-gear), and Freida Pinto piping in with the words: "To whose who much is given, much is oft" hardly amps up the level of intellect. What with "Thor," "Clash of the Titans," and "Centurion" already proving that loin clothes are back in vogue, "Immortals" feels distinctly like flogging a dead horse.

What's Your Number?

Directed by Mark Mylod

Release Date: 30/09/2011 (USA); 04/01/2012 (UK)

"Anna Faris, horrified to learn that 96% of women who have slept with over twenty guys have difficulty finding a husband, sets out to see if any of her exes were actually the right one after all."

When I read this synopsis back in February, I was stoked. Faris has such a way with comedy, and the conceit (while silly) is pretty interesting for a rom-com. A glance at the trailer doesn't disspell hopes entirely, but its forays into stupidity (Borat, Gynaecologists) make me think this isn't going to be this year's smart little gem. I'd also be very surprised if Faris were not to end up with her womanising neighbour (Chris Evans) since a) both of them are smoking hot, and b) no other legitimate suitor was featured in the trailer. Sadly, it looks very standard.

A Review of Il Posto, aka 'The Job' (Olmi, 1961)

Il Posto, aka "The Job"

Directed by Ermanno Olmi

Starring: Sandro Panseri, Loredana Detto

Grade: B+

Written for Subtitled Online:

Characterised by grim, authentic locations and a mundane sense of the 'routine', Neo-Realist cinema had had its heyday by the time Ermanno Olmi's "Il Posto" entered the fray. Part of a wave of Post Neo-Realism, his film (the English translation of which is ‘The Job’) stresses the precarious fiscal position that families find themselves in, and the introduction of a culture which promotes economic benefit as a substitute for happiness. While many see 1961 as belonging to Federico Fellini’s lavish La Dolce Vita, “Il Posto” represents a drastically different side of Italian society, devoid of cocktails, buxom blondes, and moonlit terraces.

Part of a post-war generation, graduate Domenico (Panseri) is put under pressure to work by his strict parents, who encourage him to attend a recruitment event for a large, well-known corporation. In doing so, he undergoes an exam, an aptitude test, and meets love interest Antonietta (Detto), whose striking features and comparable family situation attract his attention. Many days pass until Domenico is informed that he has been given a job at the company, and from there the film follows his efforts to fit into his new workplace, as well as his endeavour to secure the affection of his attractive colleague.

Particularly in the first half of the film, Olmi’s style draws us into the tentativeness of his leading man, but is also fiercely satirical towards the subject matter. The recruitment process Domenico takes part in consists of a simple problem-solving task, and an interview comprising of thoroughly absurd questions which probe his level of alcohol dependency and physical fitness. A medical exam consists of candidates taking it in turns to hold out their palms and squat in front of a panel of physicians. Olmi mocks corporate ideals of what makes a perfect ‘candidate’ in a similarly wry way to how Sofia Coppola critiques ‘celebrity’ in her films Lost in Translation and Somewhere, reducing characters to pawns within a commercial network.

Above all, "Il Posto" and Panseri instil awkward tension into their depiction of what is a very daunting ordeal. It details all of the intricacies of the protocol of starting a new job; not knowing where to put yourself, guaging what your superiors want to hear etc. Domenico enters an alien environment with the convincing trepidation of a kid thrust into the world of work, with a healthy degree of interest and promise in tow. The film shows how his inherent expectations become moulded with the realities of working life (especially at such a tender age) and rarely surrounds the boy with overly-uniform representations of restriction. But for some fussy moments with his parents Domenico encounters people who you can believe were once as fresh and hesitantly self-aware as he, and who have been believably indoctrinated into a capitalist way-of-life. These folks aren’t obstacles, but rather signifiers of the bigger picture, and watching this kid try to suss them out and try to adapt somewhat to their way-of-thinking helps to make “Il Posto” a truer story of fledgling professionalism.

As is usually the case with social commentary, the film is by no means a celebration of this lifestyle choice (neither is “La Dolce Vita, really) and Olmi is carefully selective not to make the tender moments of relativity between Domenico and Antonietta too open or electric. They aren’t sure of how they feel about each other, and it shows. Their time together feels precious, but not so distracting as to take away from the central conceit of tackling the pressures of instantly getting on the career ladder, and “Il Posto” doesn’t get too romantic or sentimental until much nearer the close. Instead, Olmi (not even thirty when this movie was filmed) uses Panseri’s raw and beautifully adept performance to chronicle the difficulties of having no bridge between education and employment. The final scene, in which Domenico comes across his first spar with workplace politics, perhaps most demonstrates the unforeseen implications of being a young professional, and the film’s bleak ending and grinding final credits only serve to reinforce the sense that this young man has been sold out.

The patience of “Il Posto” is one of its strongest features, and it succeeds through not being too overtly opposed to the attitude its character is pushed into. We aren’t made to rally valiantly behind him in the moments where he does face resistance, and for large periods Olmi’s well-observed style proves an effective way of studying this pocket of social transition in Italy. Some may find the sparse narrative and anti-climactic ending a tad slight, but as a cultural examination, the pickings are so rich that it’s difficult to complain. As mundane as the workplace is, “Il Posto” uses that to its advantage, summarising a commonplace arc in the new age of social mobility and reworking it as a personal portrait of the solitude of youth.

A Review of The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest (Alfredson, 2009)

The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest (2009)

Directed by Daniel Alfredson

Starring: Noomi Rapace, Michael Nyqvist, Lena Endre, Annika Hallin, Anders Ahlbom

Grade: D

Written for Subtitled Online:

The politically-outspoken Stieg Larsson left this world in a blaze of controversy, but his legacy remains a lasting one. His Millennium Trilogy has gained a massive fanbase, some awards attention, and has even been successful enough to get David Fincher on board for an American remake of the franchise, as Hollywood inevitably cashes in on the popularity of the books themselves. Many have been captivated by the exploits of his heroine Lisbeth Salander; her troubled past and volatile present, and it looks as if we’ll have to endure more of the girl for a few years yet. If rumours are to be believed, there’ll also be a fourth book (there were originally intended to be ten), penned by Larsson’s long-term partner, Eva Gabrielsson, and directly following on from the relatively open-ended “The Girl who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest.” For now, however, this film represents the culmination of Salander’s tumultuous relationship with men.

Even those who are indifferent towards the first two installments will find Hornet’s Nest required viewing – given that it sews up a lot of the girl’s incurred wounds. “The Girl who Played with Fire” left Lisbeth bloodied and bruised after being shot in the head by her father, who she then attempted to kill with an axe. While both lie in hospital, a Soviet spy ring worry that the secrets of Lisbeth’s past will be revealed to the world by Mikael Blomkvist’s magazine “Millennium,” and endeavour to put a stop to the people that stand in their way. Lisbeth herself must cope with an impending ‘attempted murder’ trial, and the emergence of Dr. Peter Teleborian, the murky figure who oversaw her stay at a mental institution at the age of twelve.

Divulging all of the key plot details would probably need a handbook in itself, but many of the events in the narrative all serve a similar purpose. It’s well documented that this series of books was intended to be titled “For Women who Hate Men,” and that would certainly have been apt. You can count on one hand the number of positive male characters in all three films combined. Not content with having plagued Lisbeth with an abusive father, a sadistic serial killer, and a rapist for a Legal Guardian, “Hornet’s Nest” dredges up the paedophile doctor who kept her strapped to a hospital bed for over a year. The film demonises the doctor as a sinister, evil liar, and does so to once again extricate sympathy for its weary heroine, who you feel has had to put up with far too much by the time the courtroom scenes roll around. From the aged villains involved in the conspiracy during her childhood, to the stilted lawyers who oppose her, the film acts as a final, determined effort to make the white male seem as thoroughly corrupt and sub-human a species as is fully possible. This might be a film intent on flaunting the abilities of its principal female character, but it victimises her through sexuality rather than empowers her through it, and shies away from considering the ambiguities within her thought process. In making her a statement of subculture “Hornet’s Nest” strips her of identity, and has more in common with fascism than feminism.

While finely-paced and staunchly faithful to its literary roots, it’s difficult to accept much of what happens in “Hornet’s Nest” as credible crime writing. None of the issues involving Blomkvist and his magazine are particularly insightful or interesting, and the creative decisions often lean towards cartoonish depictions of villainy. Lisbeth’s brother, for instance, has a disorder which means he cannot feel pain, and proceeds to roam the wilderness Michael Myers-style, killing everyone and everything in sight before returning to enact some form of family vengeance in the film’s clumsy final act. In many ways, “Hornet’s Nest” is a subdued epilogue to the events that have gone on before it, devoid of real intensity beyond the trial scenes, and overwhelmed by the sprawling impression that the characters are picking up the pieces. If all ten books were to be completed and adapted, this would more likely serve as one of the fillers of the series, tying up exposition and achieving relative equilibrium, before it’s ready to introduce another callous male antagonist.

Too much of the film’s genuine drama either stems from relaying events in its heroine’s past, or creating overtly-shocking displays of sexuality and violence. “The Girl who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest” has a propensity towards displaying violence as both a poison and an antidote, dangerously promoting vengeance as a quenching cure for bitterness. The previously-interesting Blomkvist becomes a fairly moot figure, and the dynamic between he and Lisbeth is more frayed and uncertain here than in “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” and “The Girl who Played with Fire”. Regardless of its hard-hitting techniques, this latest addition to Scandinavian crime-drama falls on the wrong side of ugly, and more unforgivably is the dullest part of what, for now, remains a trilogy.

A Review of The Lincoln Lawyer (Furman, 2011)

The Lincoln Lawyer

Directed by Brad Furman

Starring: Matthew McConaughey, Ryan Philippe, Marisa Tomei, Josh Lucas, John Leguizamo, Frances Fisher

Grade: C+

Written for InRO:

Adapted from American crime writer Michael Connolly’s popular novel of the same name, “The Lincoln Lawyer” defies expectations as much as it affirms them, swinging pendulously between mediocrity and cheeky appeal. The moment Matthew McConaughey – not the most modest-looking of men, given his hulky physique and fashion-conscious frame – is seen lounging in the back of a five-door saloon, accompanied by a soundtrack of hip-hop tunes recalling the Glory Days of status and power, “The Lincoln Lawyer” feels like it’s going to be the smug, schmoozing low-rent affair hinted at in its trailer. Brad Furman’s film however – much like its principal star – works on challenging our initial perspective of lawyer Mick Haller, whose less-than-dignified esteem and tendency to gain acquittal for notorious criminals has earned him quite a grubby reputation.

In truth, McConaughey looks as if he’s screen-testing for a Gucci commercial in the opening first few scenes, tilting his shades at a variety of angles and doling out his trademark Texan drawl. As the confident Lincoln lawyer he manages to navigate through cases involving a jailed biker and a troubled hooker, before hitting a relative brick wall with case number three: millionaire businessman Louis Roulet (Philippe), who is charged with brutally assaulting an escort girl. Coming up against his District Attorney ex-wife Maggie (Tomei) and shrewd prosecution lawyer Ted Minton (Lucas), Mick learns more information about the night in question, which leads him to re-investigate an old murder case and question the validity of his client’s innocent plea.

What’s tackier? Hiring two actors more accustomed to gossip columns than awards luncheons; or giving your man on trial a moniker that sounds like something only Jackie Collins could have devised? Either way, given the seedy kind of dealings going on in “The Lincoln Lawyer” it actually finds a pretty happy-medium with these seemingly shallow creative decisions, knocking the idea of the law profession as coasting and lavish on the head fairly quickly. The narrative takes on the shape of an admittedly not-very-complex parable, but does so effectively, and without foreshadowing key events too painstakingly in advance, or making its plot twists too abruptly pivotal. One might even call it disarming and thoughtful when dealing with the more ambiguous legal elements – if surely no wiser than a television drama like “The Good Wife.” Even when afforded with three times as much time to flesh out its story, “The Lincoln Lawyer” still feels like it’s breezing by with episodic, plotted execution.

While it reads as trite to tell this particular tale through the eyes of a familiarly troubled male protagonist (both romantically and morally), it works fairly well. We’re used to seeing this kind of flawed ‘hero’ eventually emerge on the cleaner side of ethical dilemma, and McConaughey charts Mick’s journey with more mannered physical drama than say, Cloooney’s corporate turncoat Michael Clayton, but nevertheless punctuates the character’s deep-rooted flaws as much – if not more. While it feels as if “The Lincoln Lawyer” is keen to flaunt Mick’s lack of moralistic fibre too heartily, it’s probably more down to McConaughey finding his feet with the character, as the hang-ups of this TV-pilot framework somewhat fade with the actor’s canny interpretation of the escalation in the film’s second half, where Mick’s control-freak characteristics come back to bite him. It’s also impressive how film and actor alike manage to sustain a limber energy throughout.

Despite its surprising heft as a literary drama, “The Lincoln Lawyer” is still lax and by-the-numbers when addressing Mick’s relationship with Maggie (which, as a plot aside, goes completely nowhere) and doesn’t make enough of John Leguizamo’s role as Mick’s colleague. It’s a bit of a struggle to care much about the outcome of the case, and you sense that the film, whether led by the novel or not, is trying far too hard to push the story into an unnecessary final twist. Brian DePalma’s The Black Dahlia had a similar (albeit far more lastingly dangerous) revelation to elevate it into guilty-pleasure territory, but “Lincoln” leaves us with an abrupt, anti-climactic stab at a ‘surprise’, and a limper, befuddled mystery to exit with.

By no means gritty or even enlightening on a social level, “The Lincoln Lawyer” represents an easy way to stage an age-old fable, and can’t really hide its paperback roots. Whether or not a film should be celebrated for barely avoiding mediocrity is questionable, but McConaughey and Furman manage to fashion success out of selling a relatively unambitious premise well. It genuinely works by overachieving as a middle-of-the-road crowd-pleaser, with enough allure as a twisty drama, and a degree of candour at knowing that it isn’t the be-all-and-end-all of courtroom thrillers. As ego-centric as its protagonist is, “Lawyer” finds ways to temper its own self-expectation, and for that is commendable – even if it’s inherently indebted to the Nineties and unlikely to be canonised by many.