Rebel Ridge

Director: Jeremy Saulnier
Starring: Aaron Pierre, Don Johnson, AnnaSophia Robb, David Denman, Emory Cohen, Steve Zissis, Zsané Jhé, Dana Lee, James Cromwell
Running Time: 131 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

Rebel Ridge gets right down to business in its tension filled opening scene, as director Jeremy Saulnier sets the tone, showing considerable restraint with his own tightly constructed screenplay. While the amount of violence is surprisingly small considering the situation, that threat still hovers over every scene, despite it remaining a last resort for those involved. With a protagonist more afraid of what he'll do when all other options run out, the other side holds all the power, at least temporarily.  

His antagonists also don't want a mess, partially to avoid calling attention to their crimes, but mostly because racism and arrogance prevents them from seeing their victim as a serious foe. Saulnier takes a methodical route, having his characters make logical moves as suspense builds with a handful of reversals and turns. That this avoids the fate of lesser, forgettable police corruption dramas can be traced to those decisions, as well as a commanding, quietly powerful performance from its lead. 

Former Marine Terry Richmond (Aaron Pierre) is cycling through Shelby Springs to post bail for his cousin Mike and buy a truck when he's hit by a police car and aggressively detained by officers Marston (David Denman) and Lann (Emory Cohen). They cuff and question Terry, seizing his $36,000 as drug money, preventing him from posting Mike's bail before he's transferred to a state prison. After the courthouse clerk refuses to help, his co-worker Summer McBride (AnnaSophia Robb) intervenes, digging deeper to pull some strings. 

Running out of time, Terry tries takes matters into his own hands by filing a report, bringing him face-to-face with police chief Sandy Burnne (Don Johnson), who mocks and manipulates him, igniting a feud that spirals out of control. But Sandy has no idea who he's really dealing with, and as Terry and Summer inch closer to uncovering a larger conspiracy, both become targets, fighting to survive long enough to expose the truth.

The roadside stop that kicks off the film is scary for how commonplace the illegal procedures and accompanying brutality seems for Shelby Springs police. Watching the two officers nonchalantly escalate the situation, it's clear this isn't their first rodeo, as much of the suspense hinges on whether Terry will do or say anything to further set them off. But we know compliance isn't the issue here, and his polite cooperation won't make a difference, dashcam or not. The cops' minds are already made up, and when this ends, you can't help but feel relief it wasn't worse, even if Terry's problems are just starting. 

One of the best aspects to Pierre's intense work are the subtle, wordless cues he gives off that Terry would far rather settle this entire ordeal in a peaceful, diplomatic way. He knows how much worse this get if he loses control, giving the police more excuses than they already have to pin what they want on him. But because his cousin's life hangs in the balance, all bets are off as he reaches the breaking point.

The frequently underappreciated Don Johnson is effectively deplorable as Burnne, inhabiting this self-proclaimed big shot who believes himself untouchable in a small town where corruption's already poisoned the well. What starts as a verbal battle of one-upmanship between the two adversaries eventually devolves when Burnne pushes Terry too far and finds out that he messed with the wrong guy. Even while openly expressing his desire to just disappear and make a fresh start, the ex-Marine isn't about to back down or take the easy way out. 

Summer's own conscience won't allow her to stand by and watch injustice unfold, fully aware of all the risks involved. Having also been through some stuff and beaten down by the system, she shares with Terry a natural instinct to help people, whatever the cost. A nearly unrecognizable Robb is phenomenal in sketching out this aspiring lawyer who's had much of her adult life ripped away due to mistakes and circumstance. By film's end, she'll wind up in a situation almost as dire as his, which isn't something viewers would have necessarily assumed at the start.

A surprisingly intelligent final act features some twists and shifts in allegiances caused by Terry's decision to stand his ground and end this once and for all. It also contains the lion's share of violence, made only more impactful by Saulnier milking the story until it eventually explodes in the last thirty minutes. It's edge-of-your-seat exciting, but even here there's a sense of consistency to the proceedings that reflects the lead character's committed pursuit for justice.

This is a grade A potboiler, but you don't walk away thinking only about the shootouts, car chases or plot machinations. What looms largest are the extreme measures this man must take to topple a crooked system rotting from the inside out. He knows that when playing a rigged game there's sometimes no choice but to just toss the board and make your own rules.    

Knives Out

Director: Rian Johnson
Starring: Daniel Craig, Chris Evans, Ana de Armas, Jamie Lee Curtis, Michael Shannon, Don Johnson, Toni Collette, Lakeith Stanfield, Katherine Langford, Jaeden Martell, Christopher Plummer, Frank Oz, K Callan, Noah Segan, M. Emmet Walsh
Running Time: 130 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

**Warning: The Following Review Contains Major Plot Spoilers**

Rian Johnson's Knives Out distinguishes itself from just about any other recent mainstream film by filling a massive void. It actually feels necessary, resurrecting a sub-genre many have probably forgotten even existed. And in the process, he not only improves the formula, but reminds us just how thrilling a good old fashioned murder mystery can be, especially when executed with this much precision and ingenuity. It's easy to believe there are fewer big screen mysteries because the level of difficulty is so high, both in delivering a satisfying, unpredictable script and directing so many different actors sharing the same scenes. Johnson greatly excels at this, and while its closest cinematic relatives would seem to be something like Clue or Deathtrap, you'd have to be careful not to similarly categorize this as a "whodunnit?"

An inaccurate "whodunnit?" hook would immediately set audiences up for a big reveal or ending twist that may or may not work depending upon whether we feel the culprit is suitably surprising. The players in Johnson's game don't feel like chess pieces to merely be moved across the board until we're left with a killer, but multi-dimensional characters whose motivations and actions make them interesting and complex enough to carry a morality tale all of their own. It's also doubles as a scathing, satirical commentary about wealth and privilege, rightfully earning every comparison it's gotten to Best Picture winner, Parasite, with which it would make an intriguing double-feature.

By getting the"who" question out the way by its mid-point, Johnson takes the pressure off, freeing the script up to focus instead on the "how" and "why." And it's there when you become completely absorbed by the story, recognizing that unlike previous ensemble mysteries, we actually have someone worth rooting for. The story's focus never leaves her, from the first frame up until the last, granting audiences one of the strongest protagonists you could hope to find at the center of such insanity.

When wealthy crime novelist Harlan Thrombey (Christopher Plummer) is found dead with his throat slit in the family's Massachusetts mansion on his 85th birthday, an anonymous tip sends famed private detective Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig) to the residence suspecting foul play. He's joined by Detective Elliott (Lakeith Stanfield) and Trooper Wagner (Noah Segan), local police who are more than ready to rule it a suicide as they begin questioning the eccentric Thrombeys, many of whom Blanc catches in lies and suspects would have strong motives to murder the ailing patriarch.

Leading up to his death, Harlan had seriously strained relationships with most of the family, mainly due to them freeloading off his fortune. He had just fired youngest son Walt (Michael Shannon) from his publishing company, threatened to expose that son-in-law Richard (Don Johnson) was cheating on daughter Linda (Jamie Lee Curtis) and cut off daughter-in-law and hippie lifestyle guru Joni's (Toni Colette's) allowance, which helps pay for granddaughter Meg's (Katherine Langford) college tuition. On the night of his death, he also had a heated verbal confrontation with black sheep grandson, Ransom (Chris Evans). His only confidante was Harlan's nurse and caregiver, Marta Cabrera (Ana de Armas), who soon becomes Blanc's biggest ally in the investigation when he realizes she often hears and sees everything. But even she has a secret, along with an unfortunate propensity to vomit when lying. But as Blanc gets closer to the truth, the Thrombeys may instead end up tearing each other apart over the contents of Harlan's will.

Supposedly, one of Johnson's biggest inspirations writing this was the classic detective series, Columbo, and you can really see how that would be, as the blueprint does faintly echo the style of mysteries you'd expect to see on that show, one of tv's most underrated crime dramas. In it, a seemingly clueless, schlubby-looking title murder detective (incomparably played by Peter Falk) would brilliantly connect all these dots to eventually come to the conclusion of how exactly the perpetrator committed the crime. That person's identity can often be telegraphed early on, making the details the reveal the main event, heavily favoring character development over a traditional "whodunnit."

That series, and especially its classic Steve Spielberg-helmed episode, "Murder By The Book" couldn't have been far from Johnson's mind when deciding to tackle this. Unlike Columbo, Blanc at least seems superficially competent and smoother, if initially unremarkable, as he observes the local officers question each lying family member. We not only get a glimpse of the detective's low-key shrewdness in these moments, but also the clueless and somewhat hilarious selfishness of this dysfunctional family. It's early into the story when we realize Harlan was justifiably sick of all of them, most of whom just so happen to have convenient alibis of some sort. But while the Thrombeys claim they view his nurse Marta as a member of their family and would do anything to help her, the validity of that promise gets shakier the more information we glean about what they truly value.

The more we discover about Marta, the easier it is to see why Harlan holds her in such high regard. Johnson's device of having the character vomit upon lying is crazily brilliant, adding another layer of tension to each scene she shares with Detective Blanc and eventually Chris Evans' obnoxious character, who eventually reveals himself as both more and less than he appears. When Johnson pulls the rug out from under us far earlier than expected and the narrative shifts to Marta's survival, she tries against her better judgment to hide her horrible mistake and survive in a shark tank full of loony Thrombeys. Of course, Blanc is more than a few steps ahead in recognizing she's the key to him piecing together the remains of the puzzle. And this is exactly the kind of quirky, outside-of-the-box role we've been waiting for Daniel Craig to take in his 007 off time, reminding just how much timing and range he demonstrates in supporting character parts, especially something as quirky and dryly comedic as this. 

Ana de Armas is the real discovery here as Marta, managing to remain the film's honest, moral center even when being forced into dishonesty. A shy medical caretaker who just wants to do right, what makes de Armas' performance special is how that quality consistently peaks through in all her actions and mannerisms, no matter how frightened the character seems or how unpredictably insane things get around her. Marta keeps finding these hidden reserves of strength, even as all the other reveal their weaknesses, embarassingly trying to manipulate her. Spoiled, black sheep Ransom tops that list, with Chris Evans relishing in this guy's inadequecies and stealing nearly every scene he's in, uproariously clashing with every member of his family, each of whom hate him a little more than the next. The feeling is more than mutual, leading to his now infamous scene in which he individually singles all of them out with a choice expletive.

Just as you've never seen Craig or Evans like this, Toni Colette similarly surprises as the irresponsible Joni, a flighty Gwyneth Paltrow-like lifestyle guru who owns a GOOP-like company. Her and daughter Meg are clearly set up as the most liberal of the clan, but despite a heated political argument with Don Johnson's ultra-conservative Richard, both reveal themselves as close-minded to Marta's situation as he is. That's most disappointingly true of Meg, whom Katherine Langford plays as her closest confidante, only to quickly turn when Harlan's fortune enters the equation, almost reflexively sucked into the vortex of her self-serving family. It also says a lot that Michael Shannon isn't playing the craziest or most unstable character, but still delivers his fair share of insanity as Harlan's entitled son.

It would almost be too easy if the Thrombeys were all just one-dimensionally terrible people, but they're not, with a few even demonstrating varying degrees of likability. It's that they're priorities are so messed up that make them the story's antagonists and allow us to root for their comeuppance in the end. They're not merely "suspects" and their alleged involvement in the crime, if you could even consider it one, is almost beside the point. This could have been aspect some viewers had problems with, especially those expecting the entire film to revolve around a reveal. We do we get something similar, but better, as Blanc gives a detailed explanation that makes logical sense, while revealing truths about its characters that confirm our investment in them.

The third act helps further establish Marta as the only trustworthy person in Harlan's life, even if no one in the family understands this, as shown by their immediate accusation that she must have been sleeping with him to be left everything in his will. And of course they would think that, given every relationship they've likely had in their lives transactionally revolved around sex or money, rendering them oblivious to how two people could share a connection that doesn't depend on either. Harlan realizes she made a big mistake, but an innocent one that would carry far worse consequences for her illegal immigrant family than a physically incapacitated octogenarian whose relatives treat him like garbage. And the true brilliance in Johnson's screenplay comes to light when we discover it wasn't her mistake at all, and Blanc's unraveling of Ransom's plan comes as a direct result of both her skills as a nurse and genuinely good heart.

When the film's sensational final minutes expose Ransom as the sociopath he is, but the rest are barely any better, as Marta stares down on them from the balcony of her newly bequeathed estate. The Thrombeys are left scrambling in their former driveway, finding themselves for the first time on the outside looking in. Or, exactly where they belong. It's a twist as worthy of Rod Serling as Agatha Christie, and a reminder of the tightrope walk required to successfully pull off socio-political satire. Johnson lets the characters take the reigns, and the rest organically falls into place, as the best genre deconstructions do. The right person is left standing because she's deserving. It's a kick in the gut and a reward for viewers paying attention to all the details. Not so bad for a director still inexplicably being raked over the coals for a certain "controversial" Star Wars entry. But with a razor-sharp script and an eclectic, super-talented cast all being used to their maximum potential, it's impossible to deny this as a far better platform for his talents. Bring on the sequel.  

Django Unchained

  
Director: Quentin Tarantino
Starring: Jamie Foxx, Christoph Waltz, Leonardo DiCaprio, Kerry Washington, Samuel L. Jackson, Don Johnson, Walton Goggins, Dennis Christopher
Running Time: 165 min.
Rating: R

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Each time Quentin Tarantino comes out with a new film I find myself saying that this will be the one where I've finally had it. I'll say he's gone the revenge fantasy route too times many times, overwrites, casts the same people, fetishizes violence and music and seems more interested in making his movies "cool" than having them work. Then it's released and all those things end up being mostly true. And it doesn't even matter. It's still the greatest thing out there. He gets away with this because there's only one Quentin and no one else out there is remotely capable of doing what he does, even if many have tried in the 90's, only to embarrass themselves.

Tarantino's writing is so idiosyncratic it's some kind of  miracle any actor can effectively deliver it and maybe even more of one that his crazy vision can be translated onto the screen, even by the person responsible for it. Django Unchained is his highest-grossing movie to date and also his longest, clocking in at nearly 3 hours to make it the longest of the year's nine Best Picture nominees. And it feels it. Yet, that doesn't matter either because it seems as if you're too glued to the screen to even care and on the receiving end of at least two or three movies for the price of one.

Set in the Deep South in 1858, a slave named Django (Jamie Foxx) is suddenly given a shot at freedom when he's rescued by Dr. King Schultz (Christoph Waltz), a German dentist and bounty hunter who grants him that freedom in exchange for helping him track down the Brittle Brothers, with whom Django has a brutal history. Feeling responsible for the man, Schultz takes him on as his apprentice, showing him the ropes of bounty hunting and even supplying him with a new wardrobe.

Schultz's ultimate act of generosity is in helping Django rescue his slave wife Broomhilda (Kerry Washington) from her cruel but charismatic owner Calvin Candie (Leonardo DiCaprio), whose "Candyland" plantation is a home to slaves being forced to fight to the death for entertainment in "Mandingo" fights. Manipulating their way into Candie's good graces, Schultz and Django must find a way to outsmart him and his right-hand house slave Stephen (Samuel L. Jackson). But escaping with Broomhilda and their lives won't be so easy, especially as Django's conflicted emotions about horrors of his slave past and his new responsibilities as a bounty hunter rise to the surface, threatening to blow their cover.        

It's odd describing the first half of a film dealing with such an ugly topic as being a fun watch but that's just what it is because of how Tarantino presents the personal and professional partnership that develops between Schultz and Django. There's an undeniable thrill in seeing this slave freed and given the opportunity to extract revenge on those who oppressed him. On top of it, it's interesting to witness all the double talk and scams Schultz uses to help him make it happen. Of the criticisms leveled against the film, the most popular is that Django is merely a spectator in his own story, rescued by the white man and unable to think or act on his own. But how much autonomy can he reasonably have? He's still only freed slave. The reality of the situation is that he won't be accepted on his own as a bounty hunter because of his race and he'd need a great deal of help pulling this off. It's simply a story requirement and nothing more.

Django's marginalization isn't a flaw and Foxx's role is clearly lead (or at least co-lead) but Waltz is such a titanic and charismatic screen presence that's he's basically tricked everyone into thinking otherwise. Much like in Inglourious Basterds, he steals show and there are a remarkable number of similarities between the two  characters, with the key difference of course being that Schultz is a German freeing slaves instead of a Nazi Jew hunter. It's fascinating to watch Waltz give a slick, fast-talking, witty performance that touches many of the same bases he did as Col. Hans Landa while this time around earning audience adoration instead of hatred. And Waltz accomplishes all this without really ever making the Schultz "feel" like the hero, but instead just as ruthless and calculating as the white slave owners he's hunting. Not to mention a whole lot smarter.

Foxx's job in comparison would almost seem to be a thankless one in that he must play the strong, silent avenger but he hasn't gotten enough attention for just how much of that quiet intensity and pain he has to convey when they infiltrate Candyland and he must come face-to-face with the atrocities of his own past while staying in character to effectively execute their scheme. It's here where we start wondering if he's enjoying his new role maybe a bit too much and possibly getting too cocky to see it through to the end. There's a great duality going on here and it's difficult to believe that Tarantino's original choice for the role, Will Smith, could have pulled it off better, or even as well, as Foxx. Smith's reasoning for turning it down are well-documented, confirming everything we've already known (feared?) about how he approaches his career, or rather his brand. That his problems with the script boiled down to " Must Be Hero" and "Good Guy Must Shoot Bad Guy" make me wonder if he even read the thing, or maybe just skipped the last fifty pages.

DiCaprio, on the other hand, has never met a role out of his comfort zone or above his ability level   that he won't tackle. On paper, he would certainly seem ill-suited for a racist plantation owner, but yet again, he gives it his all and makes it work, turning in a diabolical, scenery chewing performance as Candie. He's all at once funny and scary, with a good argument to be made that the film doesn't really hit its stride until his arrival. And he's not even playing the most detestable character. That (dis)honor goes to Samuel L. Jackson, whose house slave Stephen might just be the most reprehensible character the actor's played in his career. So sickening in his subservience to Candie and the abuse of his own race that it's difficult to watch, the whole performance is kind of scary in how it touches a nerve and just makes us uncomfortable every moment he's on screen, including a scene where we realize he's more observant than we originally thought.

No Tarantino film would be complete without appearances from veteran actors like Don Johnson (memorable early on as slave owner "Big Daddy"), Dennis Christopher, Tom Wopat, Russ Tamblyn, Tom Savini and Bruce Dern. Jonah Hill also briefly appears when Tarantino accomplishes the impossible with an absurd gag involving the Klu Klux Klan you can't imagine would ever get laughs, but somehow does. Of everyone, Kerry Washington seems the least essential as Broomhilda, but even that role's challenging and it would be difficult to come up with suggestions as to who else could have tackled it as well. True to form, the director saves an almost aggressively distracting cameo for himself in the last act that ranks as the most unintentionally hilarious few minutes of screen time he's had as an actor in one of his own films. Complete with a bizarre accent and cowboy hat, his appearance is so crazy that it works almost in spite of itself, even as the filmmaker proves once again that he probably shouldn't give up his day job anytime soon. It's a good thing we're having too much fun to care.

Unsurprisingly, the soundtrack is as much a character in the film as any person in it, utilizing the most music of any of his outings since the 90's, with a big standout being the use of Jim Croce's classic "I Got a Name" in a sequence where Django first comes into his own as a bounty hunter. For me, the only questionable musical choice comes in the final act, as Rick Ross' "100 Black Coffins," just seems too glaringly modern and "on-the-nose" to fit amidst the film's setting. But that's a minor quibble. With Tarantino's longtime editor Sally Menke having passed away, the glaring question going into this was what effect, if any, it would have on the finished product. Of course, looking at the running time the easiest joke to make is that there was no editing at all, but the truth is actually that the film holds together surprisingly well under the circumstances, and while some action probably could have been cut, there's good reason to be grateful for everything that got in.

Whereas Inglourious Basterds mostly played it straight until its third act, morphing into an alternate history revenge fantasy flick, Django is a revenge fantasy through and through, from the opening credits onward. It's also a spaghetti Western, a blaxploitation picture and a buddy film.The biggest surprise is in how it starts as an action comedy not too far removed from something like Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid and slowly morphs into something darker, calling the country out on its own shamefully racist past as the title character steps up to take ownership of his own story. When analyzing Tarantino's films, the popular approach is always to compare them, not to other works, but his own, which is unusual considering how many influences and inspirations he incorporates. Maybe it's finally time to admit he's more original than we give him credit for.