Sentimental Value

Director: Joachim Trier
Starring: Renate Reinsve, Stellan Skarsgård, Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas, Elle Fanning, Anders Danielsen Lie, Jesper Chistiansen, Lena Endre, Cory Michael Smith, Catherine Cohen, Andreas Stoltenberg Granerud, Øyvind Hesjedal Loven, Lars Väringer, Ida Marianne Vassbotn Klasson 
Running Time: 133 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)  

Early in Joachim Trier's Norwegian Oscar winner Sentimental Value, the main character suffers a debilitating bout of stage fright, and judging from the reactions of those closest to her, they've seen this before. Eventually, she'll power through, but with barely a second to spare as the cast and crew anxiously wait on pins and needles. Of course, such panic ridden episodes often have nothing to do with how well an actor knows their lines or skill level, but whatever else is going through their mind at the moment, which usually includes a few nightmarish scenarios related to failure and insecurity. 

While those intrusive thoughts may be fleeting, they're no less paralyzing, and from what we can tell from the protagonist's unusual coping mechanisms, there's a lot more happening underneath. Trier and co-writer Eskil Vogt reveal what as the narrative zigs and zags, hitting occasional lulls before arriving at its inevitable, but still moving conclusion. As a small scale relationship drama about intergenerational trauma, it doesn't exactly break new ground, but the performances and pangs of missed opportunities and regret strongly resonate, echoing through the walls of this family's home.

Respected film director Gustav Borg (Stellan Skarsgård) is in a slump, struggling to get his latest projects financed when he completes a script inspired by his mother Karin, who was tortured by Nazis before eventually committing suicide in their Oslo home when he was a child. It's also the same house his two daughters Nora (Renate Reinsve) and Agnes (Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas) were raised in by their therapist mom after he left Norway following their divorce. Now as adults, Nora is a successful stage actress having an affair with a colleague while sister Agnes is a married historian raising young son Erik (Øyvind Hesjedal Loven) with her husband.  

When Nora and Agnes's mother dies, Gustav unexpectedly returns to Norway to reclaim the house despite the lingering resentment from his daughters. That's especially true for Nora, who refuses to read Gustav's new script, rejecting the idea of her playing his mother. Disappointed, Gustav instead casts popular American actress Rachel Kemp (Elle Fanning) whose star power helps secure the film a Netflix deal. While seemingly up for this challenge, the role proves more difficult than Rachel envisioned, with Gustav clumsily using the movie as a vehicle to compensate for his own shortcomings as a father. But when actually faced with taking responsibility and connecting with both his daughters, he risks losing them for good. 

Jumping back and forth through time between the sisters' childhood, Gustav's and the present day, the house takes on a life of its own, becoming as much a character as its occupants, mainly due to all the memories forged inside. This isn't lost on Gustav, whose big plans involve filming there with Nora as his lead. But we can tell the very thought of working alongside him disgusts her, as she doubts he'll be able to effectively communicate any better on set than in real life. 

Nora sees right through Gustav's intentions, which involve casting her to make up for years of  abandonment, alcohol abuse and emotional inaccessibility. And if even her mother's recent death can't bring them any closer, nothing will, much less a vanity project at the end of a career he prioritized over them. 

While Nora's understandably hard headed about reaching a compromise, Agnes implores her to at least keep an open mind, even if Gustav does himself a disservice by bombarding Nora with backhanded compliments about how her talent's wasted on the stage. Having starred in her father's most acclaimed film as a young girl, Agnes can relate, despite seemingly emerging from their tumultuous past better adjusted than her sister, though not without some lingering scars.

Gutav's determination to get his film made with or without Nora leads him to cast Rachel, the young ingenue impressed by his work and looking to prove herself. But she's also all wrong for a role written for someone else and one of the plot's best aspects is how Gustav refuses to see that, supporting and nurturing Rachel in a way he never did his daughters. Unfortunately, he won't be able to repair the real relationship with someone else playing pretend for him, no matter how good an actress she is or isn't. 

Fanning has a tricky job in that she's called upon to have Rachel recognize the misguided futility of Gustav's experiment. It's also very meta in the sense that she's heavily pulling from experiences performers have when stuck in parts they feel ill suited for, digging deep and pulling at every thread to make it work. She's scared to death of screwing up, which could be viewed as mirroring Nora's stage fright, though in a slightly different context.  

Thes rehearsal scenes are among the film's best as we watch Gustav guide Rachel through a process that just isn't clicking, but not from a lack of effort. Whether Rachel's even talented is irrelevant since the film's more interested in giving her credit for recognizing what Gustav can't, or doesn't want to. She knows who should really be playing this part.                          

Skarsgård and Reinsve hold this together as we wait to see if the internally troubled Gustav has an epiphany or Nora lets her guard down long enough to realize his movie's an apology, if not also a cry for help. And while the remarkable Reinsve unquestionably carries this, Lilleas's slowly evolving turn as Agnes gradually sneaks up on you, with Skarsgård delivering subtle, understated work as his character struggles to make headway with his daughters. 

Both sisters carry decades worth of familial dysfunction, but one clearly feels the brunt, especially when her father's recent return reinforces just how raw a deal she got. But at the story's crux are complicated emotions and a shared history that somberly bubbles to the surface in its closing minutes, quietly subverting expectations right up until the final reveal.

A Complete Unknown

Director: James Mangold
Starring: Timothée Chalamet, Edward Norton, Elle Fanning, Monica Barbaro, Boyd Holbrook, Dan Fogler, Norbert Leo Butz, Eriko Hatsune, Scoot McNairy, P.J. Byrne, Michael Chernus, Charlie Tahan
Running Time: 141 min.
Rating: R

★★★½ (out of ★★★★)

When a quality musical biopic comes around, whatever praise it receives is usually accompanied by some dismissive, backhanded compliment about it not feeling like one. As if the entire genre only exists to chronologically retrace a public figure's life with little insight or nuance. So for skeptics, it's probably best not to label James Mangold's A Complete Unknown a biopic, but a great film Bob Dylan happens to be at the center of. Besides referencing his famous lyric, its clever title doubles as a description of the man himself, which could have only helped in convincing the notoriously picky and cantankerous artist to sign off on Mangold and co-writer James Cocks' script. 

That it's based on Elijah Wald's 2015 book Dylan Goes Electric!, gives us a pretty good idea all roads will lead to his controversial 1965 Newport Folk Festival performance that turned the music world upside down. Filtered through the prism of Timothée Chalamet's disappearing act, we get glimpses of the sensitive, creative genius at his peak who's also defined by a selfish, obsessive perfectionism that pushes away those closest to him. And though fame was an entirely different animal back then, it's fun and fascinating to watch Dylan subvert his while still remaining repulsed by the whole idea of it.

It's 1961 when a 19-year-old Bob Dylan (Chalamet) hitchhikes from Minnesota to find his idol, folk legend Woody Guthrie (Scoot McNairy), who's in a New Jersey hospital slowly succumbing to Huntington's Disease. Upon his arrival, Dylan meets Woody and his good friend Pete Seeger (Edward Norton), who are both blown away by the young man's singing and songwriting talents. Pete invites Dylan to crash at his house, introducing him to New York's Greenwich Village folk scene and rising star Joan Baez (Monica Barbaro), who he immediately takes a liking to. 

After being signed to a record deal by manager Albert Grossman (Dan Fogler), Dylan embarks on a relationship with artist Sylvie Russo (Elle Fanning), who grows frustrated by his standoffish behavior and inability to open up to her. But as Dylan's popularity skyrockets amid the political turmoil of the 60's, he strays from folk's traditional roots to embrace more modern, socially conscious songwriting. While Pete and the genre's community disapprove of Dylan's plans to bring a polarizing new sound to the masses, Sylvie is increasingly alarmed by his growing connection with Baez.  

Because this period represents the most vital slice of Dylan's development, Mangold consciously avoids making pit stops through the various stages of the legendary singer's career, instead dropping him into his own story, seemingly out of nowhere. Neither Pete or an ailing Guthrie have a clue who this kid is, but after picking up the guitar and working his magic, none of that matters. 

Fanning's Sylvie isn't just the film's fictionalized version of Dylan's real-life girlfriend Suze Rotolo (best known for appearing alongside him on the album cover for 1963's The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan) but the only person interested in who he actually is. But in prodding the former Robert Zimmerman about his days working at a traveling carnival, she only awakens a more temperamental side to his personality. If she views a person's past as the gateway to their soul, Dylan merely sees it as an inconvenient obstacle in crafting an entirely new persona out of whole cloth. 

The soft spoken warmth in Norton's portrayal of Pete Seeger prompts us to suspect the folk legend would have still taken Dylan in knowing the repercussions his protégé's choices would have on folk and how negatively he'd feel about it. While Dylan's respect for the genre is unquestioned, he only sees a dead end recording cover songs from previous generations while society yearns for something that addresses their current reality.

The Baez partnership is best described as magical onstage but parasitic off it. While Mangold definitely takes some liberties and fudges the timeline a bit, the essence of how they became so inextricably linked does shine through, particularly in the stage performances. Career-wise, she doesn't actually need Dylan, so while they both artistically benefit, it creates an uneven power dynamic because he's a control freak, as some geniuses are. Gifting her "Blowin' in the Wind" is where his generosity stops, at least once he discovers she won't be catering to his every whim. 

Sylvie painfully realizing the palpable bond between Dylan and Baez as they perform is the closest Mangold comes to pedaling in familiar tropes, but Fanning makes the plight of a long suffering girlfriend ring true, effectively conveying the frustration of putting up with an emotionally inaccessible partner who views relationships as disposable. So even while movie's reverence for Dylan's work is persistent, this isn't a saintly, fawning depiction of him in other respects.

If the running joke about Chalamet learning how to sing badly enough to play Dylan holds any truth, he passes the test, nailing that nasally, rambling inflection as he tears through timeless classics like "Girl from the North Country," "Like a Rolling Stone," "Mr. Tambourine Man," "Masters of War" and "The Times They Are a-Changin'." Despite only scratching the surface of music's richest catalogue, the film undeniably hits the key peaks of his early to mid 60's output while Francois Audouy's production design and Arianne Phillips' costuming helps provide the transportive backdrop.  

Any criticisms leveled against Dylan never stuck because he had a perfect voice for the songs he wrote, forever marking him as a storyteller before all else. He was also a prickly, complicated personality that Chalamet effectively blends with an aloofness and underdog quality worth rooting for. Once Dylan enters his most recognizable black turtleneck/sunglasses phase, the actor completes his full immersion, becoming stranger, moodier and more withdrawn in the celebrity spotlight.

Feeling the burn of getting too close to an almost casually cruel Dylan, Monica Barbaro captivates as the increasingly frustrated Baez who tires of his games. Justifiably tiring of his games. she risks becoming collateral damage in his quest to reinvent folk/rock, which comes to a head in the film's thrilling final act. But her biggest feat is in credibly replicating Baez's distinctively rich soprano voice despite no prior singing experience. Asked to fill enormous shoes, it's about as accurate a portrayal as anyone thought possible.

One of the best details of Dylan's infamous '65 Newport set is the presence of Boyd Holbrook's Johnny Cash, who's depicted exactly how we'd hope, cheering on his pal's attack on the music establishment as the act of rebellion it truly is. Pete and the festival organizers may try to stop it, the crowd can boo and heckle him, but when Dylan starts in on "Maggie's Farm," the train's left the station and it hardly matters who's right anymore. As Baez says, he got the freedom he wanted. 

A Complete Unknown is less concerned with checking off dates, facts and milestones than conveying the experiences of those Dylan sucked into his vortex. In an irony he'd appreciate, by film's end he remains as much an enigma as when it started. Drawing the battle lines between what music was and where it's going, we can tell he didn't see any of it as a big deal, shrugging his shoulders with bemusement at all the chaos. He knew everyone would have to move on because this was just the beginning.

The Neon Demon

Director: Nicolas Winding Refn
Starring: Elle Fanning, Karl Glusman, Jena Malone, Bella Heathcoate, Abbey Lee, Desmond Harrington, Christina Hendricks, Keanu Reeves, Alessandro Nivola, Charles Baker
Running Time: 117 min.
Rating: R 

★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

Nicolas Winding Refn's psychological horror thriller The Neon Demon introduces us to one of the least confident protagonists to recently carry a film. At least initially. So innocent and unsure of herself that every word she speaks is phrased as a question, there's this doe-eyed, stuck in headlights look that seems to define her. You start thinking that regardless of her looks, it may be impossible for this girl to find legitimate success as a model. After all, this is L.A. She'll be (literally?) eaten alive by the insecure, ambitious competition who can smell fear, and a serious threat, from miles away. It turns out, we don't even know the half of it.

An all-out assault on the senses brought to you by the filmmaker who previously polarized audiences with Drive and Only God Forgives is almost daring us to point out the superficiality of his latest effort. Don't take the bait. That's the entire point, even if that doesn't necessarily make it any more enjoyable to watch. Some of the content arriving in the picture's last third, and one scene specifically, is both disgusting and disturbing, making you wonder how this somehow managed to evade the MPAA's dreaded "NC-17."

The actual story, which is strangely Refn's most straightforward yet, serves as background noise to sights and sounds that aren't quite like anything recently brought to the screen. And yet, all of it works a bit better before all the subtext becomes text, and the heavy foreshadowing leads us into crazy land, the film might have seemed a little less ridiculous minus that eventual destination.  But it also may have been a hell of a lot less fun. There's no doubt that it looks and feels great, despite my lingering doubts as to whether it transcends those pleasures to become something more than a shocking horror genre exercise.

16-year-old model Jesse (Elle Fanning) arrives in Los Angeles from a small Georgia town with aspirations of becoming a model. After having her first photoshoot with a guy she meets named Dean (Karl Glusman), she soon scores an interview with modeling agency head Roberta Hoffman (Christina Hendricks), who's so impressed with her potential that she refers her to a test shoot with renowned photographer Jack McCarther (Desmond Harrington). Despite forging a friendship with makeup artist Ruby (Jena Malone), Jesse's rapid, meteoric ascent draws the ire of her modeling peers, the older, more experienced Sarah (Abbey Lee) and Gigi (Bella Heathcoate).

In an industry when you're washed up before you hit twenty five, the girls notice this newbie is accomplishing in just a few short months what they couldn't during their entire careers, as Jamie seems to transfix everyone with a youthful, fresh-faced look and appeal they've gone under the knife many times to try to duplicate. The claws are out and they smell blood, doing all they can to undermine the competition and preserve their jobs. For the shy, introverted Jesse comes the test of whether she can withstand it, or more accurately, adapt to survive in a world where looks are the most valuable commodity.

Much is made of Jamie's youth, so the casting of Fanning makes a lot of sense as the main point is that she's entirely too young to be exposed to an industry that devours its young. She also has an entirely different look that serves her well in the role, making it somewhat plausible that all these top shelf agents and photographers would be falling all over themselves when she arrives. It gets to be a bit much at times with that, but at least we get it, whereas with another another actress lacking such an distinct look, we might not. Of course, the character's fifteen, which Hendricks's agency owner quickly adjusts up to nineteen since eighteen is "too on the nose."

The others girls take an immediate disliking to her that grows with each new opportunity, the most memorable of which comes in the form of a Goldfinger-style photoshoot featuring a genuinely unsettling turn from an intense, gaunt-looking Desmond Harrington from TV's Dexter. You're kept on edge watching the whole time, both fearing for Jamie's safety yet opening yourself up to the idea that this might simply be all for the sake of some kind of twisted performance art. Either way, it's creepy, and Cliff Martinez's sparse, haunting 80's electronic score only serves to makes it that much creepier.

For a while the film constantly walks up to that line and teases, like with Jamie's interactions with a sleazy motel manager named Hank, who Keanu Reeves plays with scenery-chomping gusto in a welcome excursion to the dark side. Between this, John Wick, and his lead role in 2015's underrated home invasion thriller, Knock Knock, it's getting to the point where he's entering Nicolas Cage territory, but in the best way, where we literally can't wait to see what's next. There's some more going on here too, like an unwelcome animal intruder and the increasing sense that these models are much more than merely jealous. As this happens, a change comes over Jamie as well, with all roads leading to what feels like an inevitable showdown.

Described in its conception as a combination of Beyond the Valley of the Dolls and The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, it's somewhat ironic that it's actually more successful when drawing from the former. The suspense and anticipation for what eventually occurs, and the accompanying drama driving it, is actually far more intriguing than the craziness that arrives in the final act. While it's clearly trying to make a point about how humankind's obsession with physical beauty is destroying us from the inside-out, Refn delivers it in such a silly, ham-fisted, over-the-top manner that it comes off as ridiculous rather than scary.

The last half-hour is kind of difficult to process, if we're even supposed to. As for Fanning, her performance is exactly what it needs to be, even if I remain uncertain what it's all in the service of since her character could be viewed as kind of a cipher. It's been a breakthrough year for her between this and even more resonant work in 20th Century Women, marking the evolution of a mature talent who's child acting days are now comfortably behind her.

For all the film's mind-blowing visuals and bombast, I found myself struggling to extract more than just a begrudging respect and admiration for its craft. You can only shock so much before the credits roll and you're left contemplating what it all means. cenes of necrophilia and cannibalism can leave a searing imprint, but without a connection to the characters, it only goes so far. In terms of delivering psychological thrills, it's tantalizing on more than a few levels before completely abandoning that idea in favor of pure sensationalism. The Neon Demon is meant to provoke a strong reaction and does, but the only thing you're left contemplating when it's over is whether it was the right one.

20th Century Women

Director: Mike Mills
Starring: Annette Bening, Greta Gerwig, Elle Fanning, Lucas Jade Zumann, Billy Crudup, Alia Shawkat
Running Time: 118 min.
Rating: R

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

"I don't know if we ever figure our lives out and the people who help you, they might not be who you thought or wanted. They might just be the people who show up."

If you had told me in advance that one of the very best films of the past year was titled 20th Century Women, I'd probably laugh. Because, let's face it, many things pop into your head upon hearing or reading a title like that. None of them are favorable, so I can only say I went into it primarily because of the favorable reviews, promising cast and an Original Screenplay Oscar nomination few know it even received. On paper, there are certainly worse choices out there, but that title. Is it a chick flick? Romantic comedy? A historical drama? A period piece?  After actually viewing, or rather experiencing it, and realizing it's none of those things at all, I've determined its admittedly artsy and somewhat pretentious title, while a nightmare for marketing purposes, is nearly as perfect as the film itself. Not to mention it's a real chore trying to come up with a better alternative.

It's difficult to fully articulate what 20th Century Women is "about" since it doesn't have what we're trained to recognize as a conventional movie plot or narrative. It's more of a memory of a specific time and place its characters will never have an opportunity to visit again. Yes, it's a coming-of-age film, on a surface level invoking comparisons to Almost Famous, American Beauty, The Wonder Years, and even a dash of The Ice Storm. And yet it's still kind of the opposite of those, as those comparisons fail to properly convey what Mike Mills creates, or rather maybe recreates here, in simultaneously depicting a watershed year in his adolescence while paying tribute to the life of his late mother without judgment or sentimentality. The title implies a focus on women, and there definitely is that, but what it's really about this young boy becoming a man in a world surrounded by women.

Despite its screenplay nomination, this isn't a "writer's movie" because it's doing too many other things exceptionally well to pigeonhole it. Flashbacks, voiceover narration, title cards, newsreel footage are so seamlessly infused into the narrative it's a small miracle we even know it's there, presenting them in ways both invisible and revolutionary. And then there's the music, which can't be discussed as merely a separate element of the film, but as the foundation on which it's built.
Name a character and chances are you'd likely be able associate them with a song since music isn't just on the soundtrack, but discussed, picked apart and analyzed at many points as a reflection of their lives. And none of this feels forced in any way, instead organically mirroring the generation gap at the story's core.

Santa Barbara, California. 1979. 15-year-old Jamie Fields (Lucas Jade Zumann) lives with his divorced mother, Dorothea (Annette Bening) in a boarding house that she runs. Her tenants include Abbie (Greta Gerwig), a punk-obsessed photographer from New York being treated for cervical cancer and William (Billy Crudup), a carpenter and mechanic who once spent time on a hippie commune. A frequent visitor is Jamie's best friend, Julie (Elle Fanning), a 17 year-old who climbs through his bedroom window to spend the night but won't have sex with him because she thinks it'll ruin their friendship.

Confused by Jamie's non-conformist behavior and finding it increasingly hard to connect with her teen son on any level, Dorothea recruits Abbie and Julie to help unofficially raise him. In doing that, she gets more than she bargained for, learning more about her son and even herself than was intended. And perhaps in the end, maybe learning nothing at all, as their complicated mother-son bond fades into the past and becomes a memory, stored alongside the time they spent with these wildly different personalities living under the same roof.

When the title card indicating the setting and year appears on screen and we see a kid coming up over the hills on a skateboard as composer Ryan Neill's ambient, Brian Eno-inspired 70's score kicks in, you just know to expect something special. And no, this isn't one of those indies full of quirky characters doing zany things. While they all have their idiosyncrasies, they're often steeped in a painful realism, its specificity carrying a universality that should ring true to anyone, regardless of age or era.

Having grown up during the Great Depression and even flown planes in her youth,  the no-nonsense, matter-of-fact Dorothea rarely pulls any punches in her frank assessments of both her tenants and son, even if that brutal honesty rarely extends to her own shortcomings. She had Jamie when she was into her forties and is now faced with the unenviable task of raising a teen boy alone after her unseen husband walked out. That one of the first images we see is his car catching fire in a parking lot speaks volumes about that exit and its repercussions.

Due to her age, the distance in taste and values between Dorothea and Jamie is probably greater than it otherwise would be, so without a male figure in his life, it makes sense in her mind to lean on the two other women in the house to school him on how to treat women. Of course, it's also kind of a terrible idea for obvious reasons, least among the fact that Abbie and Julie don't have themselves completely worked out yet either.  Mills lets us know these characters by framing them within a specific context, their backstories occasionally dispensed via emotionally detached voiceovers from them or maybe even another character, or sometimes documentary-style footage depicting the era through which they've lived.

Books like Sisterhood is Powerful and historical events such as Jimmy Carter's famous "Crisis of Confidence" make their presence known, maybe without warning, but certainly not without purpose. Everything here has a purpose, and with all the tricks Mills has up his sleeve, his greatest one is using all these devices to create this sinking feeling of the passage of time. And as specific as all these people are to the place and period in which they reside, their stay there feels fleeting. It's sad and scary, the magnitude of how short not really felt until the film's final minutes, which emotionally hits like a oncoming train.

Played by Greta Gerwig in a brilliant performance very much unlike the optimistic, free-spirit she's played so naturally in various indies through the years, Abbie's a little deeper, darker and rough around the edges, but unquestionably has her heart in the right place. With her Bowie-like hair she serves as Talking Heads' fan Jamie's entrance into the punk music and their scenes together very much recall the even younger protagonist's discovery of his sister's record collection in Almost Famous, only without the warm, fuzzy feelings accompanying it and substituting The Raincoats for Simon and Garfunkel. But it's through her medical crisis that she and Jamie form their strongest bond, despite Dorothea's eventual objections of Abbie schooling him on the feminist movement, to which she can't relate to at all. Or if she can, came from a generation where putting a label on it would seem ridiculous.

Considering how laid back and flaky Dorothea seems at times, she's often stuck-up, judgy and unpredictably offended at certain things that mark her not as an inconsistently written character, but a richly developed one full contradictions that make her more real and relatable. Bening has to keep flipping that switch between empathy and shattering directness draped in comic sarcasm.  Few others could do it, and while I was never much on board with all the complaining about Bening's continued lack of an Oscar, that she missed out on even just a nomination for this, her most complex work, feels like the cruelest snub yet. Just watch the scene when Jamie accurately sums his mother up by reading a book excerpt and how Bening handles Dorothea's reaction. Cold and true to life, but not entirely unfair. And maybe right.

A less complicated character, but compelling just the same, is Elle Fanning's Julie, who has Jamie befuddled at why her recent promiscuity seems to exclude him, despite them sharing a bed every night. The daughter of a psychiatrist, she thinks she has it all figured out at 17 and isn't shy about providing a free diagnosis for everyone. Of course, this all masks the fact that she doesn't know much of anything and her outdated view of masculinity and advice to Jamie seems so outdated even by 70's standards that it's actually come back around again. Of everyone, she carried the most risk of coming off as one-dimensional given her age and purpose in the story for the protagonist, or so it seems. But created by Mills as a composite of various friends and ex-girlfriends from his youth, and delicately brought to life by Fanning (who owns 2016 with this and the Neon Demon) , she becomes more than just the memory or unrequited crush of a 15-year-old boy. Or more accurately, she's exactly that and all the pain that comes with it, which is why this all works so well.

Initially, it would seem we're meant to root for Jamie and somehow see Julie as a villain for withholding sex, but the movie's too smart for such simplistic shading. They're actually using each other to some extent, with him allowing this to go on with expectations of more, even as she uses him as a therapist's couch for all her problems knowing full well his feelings run deeper. But as one character bluntly tells Jamie, it's his job to put an end to it. She's not presented as a narrative construct who will "rescue" him from the doldrums of adolescence as would occur in a lesser script, but instead as a frustratingly real, unpredictable and not entirely likable girl he'll never end up with. 

It's easy to snicker at the casting of Billy Crudup as William given the nature of his iconic role in Almost Famous, only this character isn't there as a friend or role model to Jamie. It's made clear pretty early on that Dorothea discounts him as a male figure who could connect with her son, mainly because he seems like such a space cadet. But like most of the other characters he defies type or description, with Mills depicting him as kind of a male slut who women use and promptly throw away without getting to know him. It's neat gender reversal, but like everyone else, he's desperate for any kind of human connection, while also amounting to both more and less than he appears on the surface. Unsurprisingly, he's most in tune with older generational outcast Dorothea and the scene where they attempt to "understand" the music Jamie listens to is one of the film's finest.

The late 70's probably wouldn't top many fans or critics' lists as one of the greatest eras in music, but what Mills gets is that your favorite is whatever era you grew up in or associate with your strongest memories. And for what it's worth, he makes as good a case as any for this period with the song choices he makes, which are entirely reflective of not just the characters, but the tone and mood of the picture right up until the closing minutes when two songs are juxtaposed from entirely different eras you'd never expect to hear on the same soundtrack. And that right there is the movie, as different people with unique personalities and at various stages in life all randomly converge in this time and place. The saddest part is that they may never see each other again, as is often the case with the most important, influential people in our lives. They're here, make their impact and then, just as quickly, they're gone.

The semi-autobiographical events Mills recounts all took place the year I was born and it's kind of eye-opening since no one ever tends to know much about the events of their birth year. It's often just a set of numbers with little context since all the major milestones occur within the following decade and beyond. He assigns meaning to that number and to objects and possessions, alerting us to what a turning point in time this was for those who lived through it. From then on, things changed for them and couldn't possibly return to how they were. Sometimes the most important important questions to ask when a movie concludes is whether you'll miss the characters when they're gone and whether you care what happens to them after the credits roll. We do actually find out what their futures hold beyond that, even as we're still willing to give anything for an extra minute with all of them.
                                            

We Bought a Zoo

Director: Cameron Crowe
Starring: Matt Damon, Scarlett Johansson, Thomas Haden Church, Patrick Fugit, Colin Ford, Elle Fanning, Angus Macfadyen, Maggie Elizabeth Jones, John Michael Higgins, Peter Riegert, Carla Gallo
Running Time: 124 min.
Rating: PG

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

We Bought a Zoo is the kind of movie you like because you'd almost feel guilty not liking it. Or at least I would. While that may not exactly seem like the most glowing of recommendations, it actually is. Cameron Crowe just might be the only filmmaker capable of doing this unironically and succeeding. It's a gift. Precocious kids. Cute animals. A villain who would be twirling a mustache if he had one. And of course Tom Petty, Bob Dylan, Cat Stevens and Neil Young are thrown onto the soundtrack for no reason other than that Crowe loves them. Every beat in the plot is predictable, there aren't any surprises to be found, and yet, it all works. His movies have this magical quality of transcending any kind of assembly line approach to film criticism. With Crowe, the whole always ends up being greater than the sum of its parts and when it's over all you remember is the whole. It's tempting to resent him for it, but you can't. He just gets you every time.

This effort marks his first full-length feature return after going on a six-year hiatus following the release of the widely reviled Elizabethtown. He had nothing to apologize for with that. If it was a colossal mistake, at least it's one only he could have the talent to make and deserves respect for having the guts to put himself out there in such an embarrassingly personal and sentimental way. Upon recently re-watching it, I still say the first 10 minutes of that movie mark what maybe his finest hour, with the rest not being too bad either. But it's strangely fitting how it's plot (particularly that opening) foretold the public's reaction to it. Adapted from Benjamin Mee's 2008 memoir, We Bought a Zoo is as equally sentimental and lacking in cynicism. Not as gloriously messy or personal as that previous effort, it's certainly slighter and more conventional, which could stem from the fact that Crowe only co-wrote the screenplay.  Matt Damon plays Benjamin, a struggling journalist still grieving the recent loss of his wife when he packs up 7-year-old Rosie (an adorable Maggie Elizabeth Jones) and moody teen son Dylan (Colin Ford) in an effort to start fresh in a new home. That home is located on the grounds of the dilapidated Rosemoor Animal Park and after ignoring his own initial hesitation and warnings from older brother Duncan (Thomas Haden Church), Benjamin caves and buys the zoo, much to Rosie's delight and Dylan's resentment. With no experience he must rely on the close-knit staff lead by head zookeeper Kelly Foster (Scarlett Johansson) to get the park up to code in time for re-opening, even as he struggles to keep his family together in the wake of his wife's passing and come to terms with their new life. 

No one will ever accuse this film of being unpredictable, which is fine since it's not really supposed to be. What Crowe always excels at is once again on display, manufacturing a sense of community onscreen with the characters, so in that respect it's easy to see why he gravitated toward this material. It probably has the least amount of depth of anything he's tackled and in a way that's a relief because with the bar set so low we find out what he can do with a story that in any other filmmaker's hands would have seemed like pure manipulative schmaltz. Just that very term implies dishonesty and whatever accusations have been hurled at Crowe from his critics, even they'd admit that label won't stick. He's too sincere for that.

From fade in we know there's a pretty good chance this zoo, its animals and its employees will change he and his kids' lives. Benjamin and Kelly will probably fall for each other. He and son Dylan will have a screaming match over his mother's death. Dylan will crush hard over Kelly's home-schooled niece Lily (Elle Fanning). The nasty zoo inspector ( a suitably slimy John Michael Higgins) will threaten to shut them down. They'll be a final act crisis. No viewer could doubt for a second that the zoo won't be ready on opening day. None of these can even be considered spoilers. And I was still absorbed every step of the way, due mostly to Matt Damon's surprisingly moving performance. Pudgy and disheveled, he strangely resembles Philip Seymour Hoffman in appearance while giving off a normal, every guy vibe that recalls '90's era Tom Hanks. There's this huge scene involving a sick tiger and it's almost scary how good he is in it, subtly suggesting things the script is trying to hit us over the head with. He's handed some pretty sappy stuff, but he somehow makes it ring completely true with his earnestness. And isn't it about time to acknowledge few actor have come as far or improved as much in the past decade as he has? With wildly varied performances of late in the Bourne franchise, The Informant!, True Grit, Hereafter and Contagion and good case could be made he's one of the best working right now.

When casting the role of a zookeeper, Scarlett Johansson doesn't exactly jump out at you as an inspired choice, but who would have guessed that she should have? Leave it up to Crowe to finally come with the idea of casting her as someone other than the sexpot. Watching this it hit me what the problem's been with her career: She's never plays a regular person. Here she plays kind of a nerd and she's actually really good at it. It isn't a particularly deep supporting part but it's a different one for her and exactly the kind she should start taking more often. It's also one of Crowe's more mature and intellectually developed female characters, providing a respite from the "Manic Pixie Dream Girl" type that usually exists in his universe to rescue the male protagonist.

A scene-stealing Thomas Haden Church gets a few good zingers in as Benjamin's droll, skeptical brother, despite not getting nearly enough screen time and leaving me wondering when someone will let him headline his own movie.The rest of the cast also gets the job done, as Elle Fanning plays Lily as a long ways off from the wise-beyond-her-years teen she portrayed in Super 8. She supposedly based her performance as a socially awkward, immature farm girl on Taylor Swift, an unintentionally hilarious detail that also makes entirely too much sense. Angus MacFadyen as the crazed, bearded zoo carpenter and Almost Famous' Patrick Fugit as some employee with a pet monkey are mostly relegated to the sidelines but flesh out the cast nicely enough. In the case of Fugit, you can't help but feel disappointed that this marks his long overdue reunion with Crowe since he isn't given much of anything to do at all.

Like any other of his films, Crowe's soundtrack is jam-packed with those aforementioned classic rock favorites as well as a few newer songs that sound like classic rock favorites. In this outing more than any other except Elizabethtown, the musical selections really calls attention to itself. I'm still trying to figure out whether that's good or bad, but have settled on mostly good since it doesn't necessarily harm the film any and for my money no writer/director has better taste in music.  The whimsical score composed by Jonsi fits the tone even better, or at least as well as some of Crowe's most successful collaborations with ex-wife Nancy Wilson, who's surprisingly not missed too much here.

While this seems to be one of the more dispensable Crowe efforts, there's still enough behind it that it co-exists nicely with the other work in his filmography, proving to an extent that he hasn't lost a step.  The commercials and trailers have sold We Bought a Zoo as a sappy family film and while that isn't necessarily untrue, it's also decidedly more adult than expected, intelligently dealing with family, love and loss in a way that doesn't feel too manipulative or insulting. Crowe's always been an expert at pulling audience's emotional strings, but at least he has enough guts and integrity to unapologetically tell us to our faces that he's doing it.

Super 8

Director: J.J. Abrams
Starring: Joel Courtney, Kyle Chandler, Elle Fanning, Riley Griffiths, Noah Emmerich, Ron Eldard, Ryan Lee, Zach Mills, Gabriel Basso, Amanda Michalka
Running Time: 112 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Nostalgia is a powerful thing. If it hits in just the right spot it can even trick you into believing you're watching something great by reminding you of a time when you felt you did. Writer/Director J.J. Abrams clobbers us with nostalgia in Super 8 and the results are so wildly mixed I've actually avoided sitting down to share my thoughts on it for days, mostly unsure of what they'd be. Attempting to invoke the spirit of vintage 80's Spielberg directed and produced movies like E.T. and The Goonies is a risky proposition in that it could either alienate or win over audiences in my age bracket who grew up with those films and know how special they are. It takes guts for Abrams to even try to invite comparisons to them for the sake of exposing younger audiences to a type of film that's becoming increasingly uncommon.

At points feeling like an homage and at others a lesser rip-off, moments in the first hour of this Spielberg-produced project (and his fingerprints are all over it) succeeded in making me feel like a 12-year-old again, until the plot careens off the rails and almost crashes and burns like the doomed train in the film. Luckily, it recovers in the last third to finish strong, thanks mostly to the child actors whose staggeringly authentic performances save Abrams as he loses touch with the movie it seemed he set out to make. Part of me wants to shake him silly for falling short of what could have been accomplished for stupid reasons, yet he also deserves a hearty handshake for even attempting to try something like this because we do badly need it. There are far worse things than trying to make a Spielberg-style coming-of-age summer blockbuster devoid of all cynicism but not quite getting all the way there. While I'm convinced I'm more impressed with the idea behind the movie (and maybe also the movie-within-the-movie) than the actual film itself, it's still a fascinating, if flawed, discussion starter that's entertaining and not easily forgettable. Abrams' execution may be sloppy, but he knows the right buttons to push.

Set in the small steel town of Lillian, Ohio in the summer of 1979 12-year-old Joe Lamb (Joel Courtney) is still emotionally traumatized by the accidental death of his mother four months earlier and a strained relationship with his father, Jack (Kyle Chandler), the town's sheriff. He wants to send him to sports camp for a few months, insensitive to Joe's desire to stick around to help best friend and bossy aspiring director Charles (Riley Griffiths) film his low-budget 8mm zombie movie with buddies Martin (Gabriel Basso), Preston (Zach Mills) and Cary (Ryan Lee). He's also somehow been able to recruit Joe's dream girl, Alice Dainard (Elle Fanning) to play the female lead, even as she endures a family drama of her own with alcoholic father Louis (Ron Eldard). During filming the kids witness a train wreck, the results of which are stranger than your usual train wreck and are captured by their Super 8 camera. What that footage uncovers raises a lot of questions and causes much chaos, even as the military, led by Colonel Nelec (Noah Emmerich) arrive on the scene with an agenda.

The one aspect of this film that's unquestionably a grand slam are these kids and nearly all its memorable moments are supplied by these child actors who are so good together (in both the real movie and the movie within) that for a while it doesn't even feel like a homage or a tribute to better films from the 80's, but the real deal.  The dialogue between them is smart and funny, they're clearly defined and we care about the relationships between them, especially the dynamic between Alice and Joe. You'd never know this was Joel Courtney's very first appearance in a feature film and Elle Fanning leads the charge with her performance, trumping even her recent work in Somewhere as far as the layers of complexity she brings to it. She has this one huge scene everyone will be talking about involving her character's performance within the zombie movie that works on so many different levels you're likely to get a headache trying to figure out how she does it.  All the kids' performances are great and the first hour resembles the best elements of The Goonies, complete with a map and some of the character types even being dead ringers for those in that family classic. But I still couldn't help but wish it was in the service of a more inventive story.

Once the action gets rolling I couldn't help but wish the young actors' efforts were in the service of a better story.  Problems start with the big train crash sequence, which relies too much on fake looking CGI and reminds us we're watching an everyday modern day blockbuster reliant on cheesy effects rather than character. How did it not occur to Abrams that approach is completely at odds with a period coming-of-age adventure set in the late 70s? The decision to do this is so ill-conceived it made me think Spielberg could have been behind it given his inexplicable (and embarrassing) over-use of the technology in the recent Indian Jones sequel. This also doesn't really feel like it's 1979 so much as a movie that's supposed to be set during that era with kind of a close approximation of the the wardrobe and music, but little else. Not once did I think I was watching anything that took place in the 70's or even early 80's, but rather a picture paying tribute to the values of that era and the movies made during it, present especially in the relationships between the kids and their parents. Fans of his work on Friday Night Lights will be excited to finally see Kyle Chandler on big-screen, then be deflated to discover he's just being asked to play Coach Taylor with a badge instead of a whistle, but slightly meaner. As little as he's given, he's still solid, which is more than can be said for a hilariously miscast Ron Eldard who somehow plays the archetype of the drunken dad even more cartoonishly than it's written. But like an early Spielberg classic, adults are only always seen through the eyes of children, so if it worked then, it's kind of hypocritical to condemn the approach now even if Spielberg was never this blatant about it.

Mid-way through the movie turns into a sequel to Abrams' own Cloverfield mish-mashed with The War of the Worlds. And I'm not even exactly sure how the military gets involved, why citizens are being evacuated or anything. It just kind of happens all of the sudden and we go with it because we're along for the journey with these kids and they're the movie's saving grace. The decision to keep the alien creature's appearance a secret for most of the running time is perplexing, especially considering what it ends up looking like and how little a surprise that is. This isn't about unraveling mysteries, even if it would have helped to have more of the J.J. Abrams who created Lost and Fringe than the one who rebooted Star Trek. Stranger still is the decision to concoct an elaborate backstory for the alien shown in grainy black and white flashback footage that resembles the Dharma Initiative films from Lost minus the intrigue. Yet it all somehow still comes together in an ending that's already been criticized as E.T. meets Close Encounters, if you can call that a criticism. For me it rescues the movie since it recreates the sense of wonder that was present in the first hour but lost somewhere in the middle of all the chaos. Michael Giacchino's soaring, emotional score (which intentionally sounds lot like John Williams' compositions for Spielberg in the 80's) goes a long way in helping.

Being such a grab bag of plusses and minuses, when this ended I was sure I didn't like it (and reading this you're probably thinking I still don't), but that it's worth checking out despite its flaws should give you an idea how good it could have been, or maybe how badly I was rooting for its success. Spielberg's being credited as the producer but the extent of his actual involvement could been anything from being heavily involved on a day-to-day basis to just putting some money down and visiting the set once, so it isn't fair to single him out for what worked or didn't. That said, he did slap his name on it with a full endorsement and it's essentially a tribute to his filmography so it's hard to not walk away feeling its failings are somehow his fault, despite Abrams writing and directing it on his own. You also can't help but wonder why it didn't turn out as good as it could have been with all the tools and inspiration he had at his disposal. Super 8 works well enough, but in doing so only proves that past Spielberg casts a shadow too large for even he himself to escape.

Somewhere

Director: Sofia Coppola
Starring: Stephen Dorff, Elle Fanning, Michelle Monaghan, Chris Pontius, Simona Ventura
Running Time: 98 min
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

With fewer and fewer stories left to tell, there's thankfully still many ways left to do it if you're skilled enough. Sophia Coppola's minimalist approach isn't for everyone, as single scene or shots can linger endlessly, making even the most patient viewers wonder if the film was edited at all. And that's the thing with mood pieces: You have to be in the mood to watch them. With Somewhere, Coppola favors the stripped down, bare bones style she employed in her three previous features but manages to drop the volume down even lower. Those who didn't care for The Virgin Suicides, Lost Translation or Marie Antoinette will find this even more frustrating but it deserves mention alongside them, which is to say it's very good and will likely age well. And like those, it's equally brilliant and infuriating at the same time, its flaws as endearing as its strengths. Think of it as Lost in Translation meets The Wrestler meets The Brown Bunny meets an art house version of Entourage or Californication. While she's yet to release a work as impressive as peers like Fincher, P.T. Anderson, or Aronofsky and her output's more polarizing, she's been nothing if not consistent, extracting unexpected career peak performances from the likes of Kirsten Dunst (twice), Scarlett Johansson and Bill Murray. She does it again here this time with another even more unlikely suspect and again proves few are as capable of using visuals and music in a movie as effectively. All-around, it's very similar--some would say too similar--to her previous efforts, but that's fine by me.

The film follows, at least for the first couple of minutes, a black Ferrrari as it continuously laps a racetrack. Its driver is famous actor Johnny Marco (Stephen Dorff), whose solitary excursions in that car represent the only forward momentum in his life.  Hauling himself up at the famed Chateau Marmont in Los Angeles, where he's nursing an arm injury and doing press interviews for his latest action film with an unhappy co-star (Michelle Monaghan), we can assume from their brief, awkward interactions, he slept with at some point. Despite having booze, pills and women at his beckoned call at seemingly every hour of the day and enjoying unparalleled professional success, he's an emotional zombie giving the term "going through the motions" a whole new meaning. Bored, absent and detached, he actually falls asleep twice during his interactions with women, the first time almost inexcusably during a twin strippers' pole dancing routine set to the Foo Fighters' "My Hero" that's so compellingly, brilliantly awful it could probably wake a corpse. The unexpected arrival of his 11-year-old daughter Cleo (Elle Fanning) changes his plans, as her mother, with whom he shares custody, disappears without giving an indication as to when or if she'll return. With little choice but to bond with her, they grow closer and he must decide whether this lonely, empty lifestyle is really for him.

The startling similarities between this and Coppola's previous two films won't be lost on anyone. Once again, she returns to the central theme of loneliness and isolation in the face of fame that characterized Lost in Translation and Marie Antoinette. Admittedly, the hard knocks that come with being rich and famous isn't exactly the kind of topic that gets audiences on your side, but that's not her job. If this is what she knows and wants to explore then by all means she should. If she didn't actually explore it that would be a problem but this isn't a carbon copy of Lost in Translation, despite them both sharing a hotel setting and the plot of a depressed actor at a crossroads. There's actually a lot less going on here. From the opening scene right up until the end, not a lot is said, but somehow you're keyed in to exactly what's going on from moment to moment. The film's style encourages its characters, the visuals and the two central performances plenty of room to breathe, very often mimicking the aimless, trance-like state of its protagonist. Yet despite being told nothing and having to figure out this guy for ourselves, it's a strangely pressure-less experience to sit through, offering relief from the burden of being inundated by too many details. If Coppola's an expert at anything, it's letting the visuals, music and acting speak for itself. Unafraid of letting scenes linger past the point they typically should (or we're used to) to convey a mood, a practice session at an ice rink goes on twice as long as you'd expect and is all the more memorable for it.


Stephen Dorff is the perfect empty vessel, as Coppola tries to do for him what Aronofsky did for Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler (this film's working title could have easily been The Actor) by taking an actor's personality (or maybe lack of it) and wrapping everything else around it to fit. Maybe that wasn't the intention but Dorff's passivity is so convincing it could have fooled me. It's only speculation how much personal experience he channeled to get inside Johnny's head and while Dorff's career or life, from what we know, isn't in the dire shape Rourke's was, an artsy, meditative character study still isn't something we'd usually associate with the B-list star of Blade and Cecil B. Demented.  He ends up being pretty good at it. Elle Fanning (now a threat to surpassing her older sister as the family's breadwinner) gives Cleo a poise and intelligence beyond her years while still maintaining the naivety of a little girl faking obliviousness to her father's severe shortcomings, chipping away at his indifference. She knows what's up, and how Fanning subtly shows it is what makes the performance. The final scene is a keeper and well-earned, telling us all we need to know while leaving enough behind for us to fill in the rest.

Movies like Somewhere are the ones to watch out for because they seem at first to be inert, or worse, about "nothing," but have this way of staying with you because they end up being about much more than just their plot, which in this case is familiar.  I hate judging a director's current work against their previous efforts but it's almost impossible to view this film in any way but through the prism of her others, completing a quadrilogy of loneliness that started with The Virgin Suicides. Strangely, despite coming really close, she hasn't made a movie as compelling as that one again, but is instead effectively carving out career that builds on the themes she introduced in it in memorably divergent ways. Say what what you will about Coppola, but she's as one of the few filmmakers working today whose new releases are, for better or worse, accompanied by an "event" feeling because of their distinctive style. Somewhere meets that expectation, which is really the most that could have been asked of it.