Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery

Director: Rian Johnson
Starring: Daniel Craig, Josh O'Connor, Glenn Close, Josh Brolin, Mila Kunis, Jeremy Renner, Kerry Washington, Andrew Scott, Cailee Spaeny, Daryl McCormack, Thomas Hayden Church, Jeffrey Wright, Annie Hamilton, James Faulkner, Bridget Everett, Noah Segan
Running Time: 144 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

Among writer/director Rian Johnson's trilogy of Knives Out films, Wake Up Dead Man is sort of an outlier, taking a slightly different route than the two mysteries preceding it. Besides having more on its mind philosophically, the tone is darker and its lead detective shares the spotlight, resulting in enough of a departure to keep us guessing. But what's always been fun about the series remains unchanged, as Johnson still delivers the surprising twists, only this time digging a little deeper into these characters than usual. It's also a slow burn, waiting nearly a half hour to reintroduce the quirky sleuth who'll be diving into another seemingly unsolvable crime. 

While those elements distinguish this, there's no reason for those enamored with the familiar formula to worry Johnson's off his game, especially once we meet the latest rogues gallery of eccentric suspects. An argument could even be made it's the strongest entry of the three, at least outside the original, which would still justifiably win the popular vote. But in displacing those films' eagerness to please with a more somber tone and religiously supernatural plotline, this is the true Glass Onion of the series, its many layers gradually peeling away as we approach the final reveal. 

When former boxer turned Catholic priest Jud Duplenticy (Josh O' Connor) punches a widely disliked deacon, he's transferred by Bishop Langstrom (Jeffrey Wright) to small upstate New York parish, Our Lady of Perpetual Fortitude. While there, he serves as assistant pastor to the enigmatic Monsignor Jefferson Wicks (Josh Brolin), whose angry, controversial sermons have driven many from the church, leaving behind a small, but intensely devoted group of parishioners who both fear and respect him. It isn't long before Jud and Wicks clash over moral differences, but when the latter is stabbed during a Good Friday service, local police chief Geraldine Scott (Mila Kunis) calls in private detective Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig) to investigate. 

Jud is the prime suspect, followed by a handful of others, including Wicks' devoted church lady Martha Delacroix (Glenn Close), recently divorced alcoholic doctor Nat Sharp (Jeremy Renner), lawyer Vera Draven (Kerry Washington), her adopted son and aspiring conservative politician Cy (Daryl McCormack), struggling sci-fi author Lee Ross (Andrew Scott), disabled former concert cellist Simone Vivane (Cailee Spaeny) and groundskeeper Samson Holt (Thomas Haden Church). Everyone's hiding something, but in attempting to crack the case, Blanc unconventionally recruits potential killer Jud to tag along.   

What resonates most about this mystery is how a spiritually doubtful Jud being sent to this church simultaneously becomes the best and worst thing that could possibly happen, testing him in ways he didn't know possible. And that it's Jud rather than Blanc serving as our entry point makes this as much his story than anyone else's, including the eventual victim. Equally believable here as he was as a struggling pro tennis player in Challengers, O'Connor quickly settles into the role of an affable, good natured priest with a chip on his shoulder. Jud takes his reassignment in stride, at least until he gets there and meets the arrogant Wicks, who's played with villainous energy by a scene stealing Brolin.

Clearly resentful toward Jud for intruding on his territory, Wicks rules the congregation with an iron fist, resembling a cult leader in how his devoted followers worship his every word, needing guidance they're convinced only he can provide. In exchange, he doesn't just get their money, but fuel for his insatiable ego, fostering a transactional relationship where they're entirely dependent on him. Whether it's a doctor whose wife just left him or a wheelchair bound musician in need of a miracle, they all think he has the cure for what ails them. 

There's a timely undercurrent running through the film as a manipulative Cy sees dollar signs in the church, harnessing Wicks' hold over his desperate believers as a springboard for his own political ambitions. But more fascinating is Wicks' sordid family history involving his grandfather and church founder Rev. Prentice Wicks (James Faulkner) and troubled mother Grace (Annie Hamilton), who unsuccessfully schemed to obtain her father's missing inheritance after his death. Depicted in a gripping early flashback, it could provide possible clues related to the details of the murder.  

Blanc's brought on by local law enforcement, and if we know anything about him by now, it's that he works alone even when he's not, using his own unique approach to plausibly fit all the puzzle pieces together. And while his bizarre crime solving alliance with Jud hinges on letting the young priest's perspective guide the investigation, Blanc doesn't want to believe Jud did this any more than we do, leaving us wondering what angle the detective's working. But even with O'Connor and Craig standing out as MVPs, there's no shortage of impressive supporting turns from a thoroughly unlikable Brolin, the hard to read Renner and especially Glenn Close, whose Martha serves as the church's eyes and ears.

The ending's jaw-droppingly convoluted and drags a bit, but still somehow makes complete sense, rewarding audiences for paying attention to smaller details pertaining to each character. But the real mystery might be how Johnson again managed to wrangle such eclectic cast, who all look to be having the time of their lives playing against type in some form or another. So while it's difficult to gauge just how much longer he can keep pumping these mysteries out or when we'll tire of them, the continued level of quality suggests this series still has a long way to go before reaching its saturation point.             

The Phoenician Scheme

Director: Wes Anderson
Starring: Benecio del Toro, Mia Threapleton, Michael Cera, Riz Ahmed, Tom Hanks, Bryan Cranston, Mathieu Amalric, Richard Ayoade, Jeffrey Wright, Scarlett Johansson, Benedict Cumberbatch, Rupert Friend, Hope Davis, Bill Murray, Charlotte Gainsbourg, Willem Dafoe, F. Murray Abraham, Stephen Park
Running Time: 101 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★)       

For anyone wondering how a Wes Anderson directed international espionage picture would play out, an answer comes with The Phoenician Scheme, which looks and feels a lot like previous Anderson efforts. But that's only bad news if you happen to detest his dry humor, twee tone, penchant for recycling the same actors in different roles, or even that unmistakable Futura font. And while it all converges into a distinctive style sometimes known as the "Anderson aesthetic," it has just as many fans as detractors, many of whom eagerly await each new release. 

When cinephiles rank Anderson's' divisive output there's largely agreement on what they've seen, often causing them to love and hate chosen titles for exactly the same reasons.  But after the visual and narrative spectacle of Asteroid City hinted at more complex themes bubbling just under the surface of its meta structure, this satire reprsents the latest signpost for his brand of mannered quirkiness. And though it can't help but feel like a slight step back in comparison, there's no denying it still showcases what he does best. 

It's 1950 and eccentric arms dealer/industrialist Anatole "Zsa-Zsa" Korda (Benicio del Toro) is busy trying to evade multiple assassination attempts until a horrific plane crash nearly does him in. Fearing time may be running out, he attempts to reconnect with his only daughter, Liesel (Mia Threapleton), a Catholic nun repulsed by her father's behavior and suspicious he murdered her mom. Still, he persuades her to leave the Church to help run his business on a trial basis, also hiring Norwegian entomologist and family tutor Bjørn (Michael Cera) as administrative assistant.

Risking his wealth on a scheme to overhaul Phoenicia's infrastructure with slave labor, Korda plots to thwart the government's plans to bankrupt him by duping investors into covering the budget shortfall. Joined by Liesel and Bjørn, he starts with Californians Leland (Tom Hanks) and Reagan (Bryan Cranston) before moving on to French nightclub owner Marseille Bob (Mathieu Amalric), Newark investor Marty (Jeffrey Wright), and even his own cousin, Hilda (Scarlett Johansson), an heiress to the family fortune. Infuriating them with his lies, Korda refuses to enlist the help of estranged half-brother Nubar (Benedict Cumberbatch) due to their troubled history. But as Liesel spends more time with her dad, she reluctantly holds out hope that he's capable of change.

Somehow both convoluted and mind numbingly simple, the plot's almost beside the point, serving as an excuse for its characters to engage in the absurd, but highly entertaining hijinx put in motion by Korda's embarrassing scheme. Much of why involves the road trip element, which gives Anderson's troupe of regulars a chance to shine in wildly different roles. But none of that would be possible without del Toro's brilliantly bonkers performance as Korda, a clear amalgamation of narcissistic industrialists like William Randolph Hearst and Aristotle Onassis. 

Anderson employs a treasure trove of cultural, historical and cinematic references to fill out this story centering around his main character's eccentric peculiarities, such as adopting as many kids as possible and organizing his business files into separate shoeboxes. Del Toro has to walk a thin line line here, playing a selfish swindler, deadbeat dad and charmingly likable rogue all wrapped into one, showing just enough humanity for us to understand why Leisel bothers sticking around.

Amid a flood of famous faces, it's a revelatory Threapleton who makes the strongest impression as Liesel, whose faith is tested when confronted with the prospect of not only forgiving her emotionally inaccessible dad, but somehow forging an actual relationship with him. And it's when her character experiences Korda's moral failings up close that Threapleton's sarcastic wit and bemused facial expressions supply the film its heart. And opposite both in his largest Anderson role to date, an ideally cast Cera plays the awkward, bumbling Bjørn to perfection, just as we'd expect.  

While Hanks and Cranston's appearances do feel more like celebrity cameos than fleshed out parts, they're still sort of a hoot as brothers, with Wright and Johansson managing to give the looniest, most worthwhile turns of the investors. Others like Bill Murray, Willem Dafoe, Hope Davis and F. Murray Abraham only pop in and out. It's really the uncomfortable camaraderie between Korda and his two travel companions that carry this, leading right into the eventual sibling showdown with Cumberbatch's scary, bushy eyebrowed Nubar. The result is a surprisingly sentimental finale that prioritizes substance over style. 

Anchored by a charismatically flawed character in the vein of odd, ornery Anderson protagonists like Royal Tenenbaum and Steve Zisssou, it's hard not to wish this was at least slightly better, or even a little less messy. But with a trio of tremendous lead performances, a clever structure and stretches of hilarity, there's a lot to appreciate. Those rooting for Anderson to completely step outside the box may have to wait a little longer, but in giving us more of the same he continues to prove that few do it better.                        

American Fiction

Director: Cord Jefferson
Starring: Jeffrey Wright, Tracee Ellis Ross, Issa Rae, Sterling K. Brown, John Ortiz, Erika Alexander, Leslie Uggams, Adam Brody, Keith David, Okieriete Onaodowan, Myra Lucretia Taylor, Raymond Anthony Thomas, Michael Cyril Creighton
Running Time: 117 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)   

American Fiction revolves around a thought provoking premise that tackles issues of race, art and hypocrisy head on, as writer/director Cord Jefferson strikes a different kind of chord in adapting Percival Everett's 2001 novel, Erasure. His script handles a potentially controversial topic with brutal honesty, uncomfortably intersecting with the fictitious book it spoofs to examine the current cultural climate. It's far from perfect, but even with an overabundance of family drama and a bizarre ending, much of this works. 

A brilliant Jeffrey Wright plays a misunderstood genius too smart for his own good, going to extreme lengths to prove his point to a society he no longer recognizes. The plan works both better and worse than expected, but for a protagonist so hard on himself, unexpected success only magnifies his own insecurities and biting criticisms about a system too broken to fix. It's delightfully ironic watching this stubborn intellectual embraced for what he most detests, with Jefferson not only exploring themes of diversity, but how this idea of "selling out" complicates the already shaky balance between art and commerce. 

Los Angeles based African-American writer and professor Thelonious "Monk" Ellison (Wright) has just been put on temporary leave by his university for offending students during racially sensitive discussions. Per the board's request, he reluctantly returns to Boston to spend time with his family and attend a literary seminar. But his panel is overshadowed by popular author Sintara Golden's (Issa Rae) newest bestseller, We's Lives in Da Ghetto, which pedals in Black stereotypes such as gang violence, drugs and incarceration. It also stands in stark contrast to Monk's output, which his agent Arthur (John Ortiz) describes as not being "Black enough" to sell. 

Resented by his physician sister Lisa (Tracie Ellis Ross) for being the favorite son, Monk clashes with hard partying plastic surgeon brother Cliff (Sterling K. Brown), as they consider admitting their Alzheimer's afflicted mother Agnes (Leslie Uggams) into a care facility. But after dating lawyer Coraline (Erika Alexander), Monk begins writing My Pafology, a satirical novel exaggerating and spoofing the most offensive Black stereotypes. 

After mockingly submitting this book, the publishers are blown away, giving Monk a huge monetary advance as he adopts the fake persona of fugitive author "Stagg R. Leigh" for authenticity's sake. But while intentionally trying to sabotage the deal by demanding its title be changed to Fuck, hotshot Hollywood producer Wiley Valdespino (Adam Brody) expresses interest in adapting it into a feature film. Now, a mortified Monk must decide whether to reveal himself as being behind this literary masterpiece he intended as a big joke.

Even if many of Monk's viewpoints are on target, what ends up plaguing him is the self-destructive ways he goes about proving it. You can't help but feel a little empathy for someone who wants to be published for all the right reasons and create art of lasting significance. But his definition of quality differs greatly from the public, who he feels are being dishonest with themselves by celebrating the "poverty porn" in Sintara's book. 

Besides finding Sintara to be cashing in on racist tropes, Monk's astounded at the stupidity of anyone impressed by literature so transparently exploitive. For him it cuts deeper than just a mere difference in taste, but even when he pushes the envelope too far, Wright depicts this character with a dignity that still makes him seem like the smartest, most rational person in the room. There's a particularly humorous scene where Sintara reads embarrassing excerpts from her acclaimed novel and you can see the exasperation on Wright's face that the audience is somehow eating this all up. 

Whether Monk's correctly assessing trash is almost beside the point once we realize most of his anger is rooted in unresolved family turmoil. This does creates a bit of a dilemma for the film since that plot pales in comparison to the hijinks surrounding his novel. Jefferson may not completely succeed in tying both together, but Sterling K. Brown gives a breakout performance as Cliff, whose reckless persona buries a history of repressed pain. Leslie Uggams is subtly heartbreaking as the matriarch in mental decline, Tracee Ellis Ross makes maximum impact with her limited screen time, while Erika Alexander's Coraline has the patience of a saint. That is until Monk totally implodes, causing her to draw a line in the sand when it comes to his erratic behavior. 

It takes almost an hour for Jefferson to get to the meat of this story, but when he does there's plenty of insightful commentary about institutional bias. Monk's invitation to be a Literary Award judge backfires spectacularly, leading to an argument with Sintara that cuts to the core of the script's best ideas. There's no telling how high the film's ceiling could have been with more scenes like this. Instead, we get a tantalizing meta development in the vein of Stranger Than Fiction or Adaptation, teeing up a tease that flies off the rails without any clear resolution.

Whether Monk does turn some kind of a corner is definitely up for debate and analysis, like much of what occurs. It's also one of the few recent cinematic efforts dealing with race that takes real risks and could continue provoking discussions long after the credits roll. Frustrating and rewarding, it's ultimately about a writer banging his head against the wall, consumed by how everyone fails to see what's right in front of their faces.   

Asteroid City

Director: Wes Anderson
Starring: Jason Schwartzman, Scarlett Johansson, Tom Hanks, Jeffrey Wright, Tilda Swinton, Bryan Cranston, Edward Norton, Adrien Brody, Liev Schreiber, Hope Davis, Stephen Park, Rupert Friend, Maya Hawke, Steve Carell, Matt Dillon, Hong Chau, Willem Dafoe, Margot Robbie, Tony Revolori, Jake Ryan, Grace Edwards, Aristou Meehan, Sophia Lillis, Ethan Josh Lee, Jeff Goldblum
Running Time: 105 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 

The style vs. substance debate that's followed Wes Anderson throughout his career again rears its head with Asteroid City, an ambitious effort from a very distinctive filmmaker sure to split critics and audiences down the middle. He must be used to it by now, considering how each new release is accompanied by conversations about how Andersonian it really is. For rabid devotees, there's no such thing as too much, whereas just a couple of minutes is more than enough for the harshest detractors. But even as his singular aesthetic still prompts accusations of superficial repetitiveness, few contemporary directors have amassed a body of work so instantly recognizable. No matter what you think of it.  

For all the SNL skits or viral video spoofs, making a Wes Anderson picture is a market he'll always have cornered because there's an underlying sincerity to what he does that no one's been able to duplicate. Even when the execution seems like a parody of itself, there's more there. It's especially true of his best efforts like Rushmore and The Royal Tenenbaums, where style and substance overlap in character-driven stories that go to deeper, rawer places many feel he hasn't returned to since. The jury's still out on where this one lands, but it's definitely a departure of sorts. Or at least as much of a departure as we've gotten from the divisive director in a long time. 

The film's retro futuristic desert setting is a hugely impressive visual achievement brought to surreal life by Robert Yeoman's cinematography and Adam Stockhausen's production design. But there's also a meta layer that distinguishes it, as a stacked cast pulls double duty in both a black-and-white TV documentary special of a play and the play's events, presented in vibrant color. It's also a pastiche of postwar Americana, UFO paranoia and old Hollywood moviemaking that further explores the themes of grief and ostracization constantly present in Anderson's output. In other words, there's a lot to unpack.

The film opens in black-and-white as a TV host (Bryan Cranston) introduces renowned playwright Conrad Earp's (Edward Norton) production of "Asteroid City," a play that takes place in a fictional 1955 desert town of the same name. In it, war photographer Augie Steenbeck (Jason Schwartzman) arrives with his intellectual teen son Woodrow (Jake Ryan) and three daughters at the Junior Stargazer convention where Woodrow is being honored. But Augie's inability to tell the kids of their mother's recent death complicates his already fragile relationship with curmudgeonly father-in-law Stanley (Tom Hanks). 

Also in town is Midge Campbell (Scarlett Johansson), a famous, melancholy actress whose teen daughter Dinah (Grace Edwards) is also being recognized at the convention. Among the other attendees are elementary school teacher June Douglas (Maya Hawke) and her class, a cowboy band led by a singer named Montana (Rupert Friend), the brilliant but eccentric astronomer Dr. Hickenlooper (Tilda Swinton) and five star General Grif Gibson (Jeffrey Wright). 

When a major extraterrestrial event inexplicably occurs during the awards presentation, the U.S. government frantically intervenes to contain the site and quarantine witnesses in town. We're also shown glimpses of the TV special detailing the play's evolution, as the actors struggle to make sense of their roles, most notably Schwartzman's Jones Hall, who helplessly turns to director Schubert Green (Adrien Brody) for creative guidance.

It isn't clear where the story's going for much of the first forty minutes, or even if it's headed in a direction that would set it apart from what we've already seen from Anderson. And despite his penchant for attracting huge names, the involvement of Hanks and Johansson doesn't necessarily signify we're in for something especially unique, as sometimes even the biggest stars have taken back seats to the framing and visual presentation of his pictures. And this one is mind-blowing, shot by Yeoman with a bright, oversaturated artificiality that recalls 50's Westerns like Bad Day at Black Rock. 

As usual with Anderson, the actors dryly deliver their lines with a kind of detached bemusement that almost implies they're playing imitations or mockeries of themselves. Only the real kicker this time is that they actually are. The "play within a play" conceit allow the actors to carry aspects of their performer's uncertainty toward the material into the actual roles, adding an important contextual layer. This works especially well with Schwartzman and Johansson, who delicately depict Augie and Midge's ambivalence toward each another, dancing around their feelings before eventually connecting on a deeper level. Schwartzman's nuanced turn has you wondering why he isn't cast more often as a lead while Johansson perfectly captures this moody, morose Hollywood starlet with an edge. 

Once the UFO event unfolds with the appearance of a wacky looking alien, the script's characters really start to wrestle with various forms of loneliness and uncertainty. And like many Anderson films, it celebrates the quirky outsider, as the Junior Stargazers are far more tuned in and observant than any of their parents, scientists and especially government officials. Those Moonrise Kingdom vibes are definitely present in Woodrow and Dinah's relationship, while the film still manages to incorporate an endless parade of well known faces without it coming across as a stunt.

Hanks, Hawke and Swinton make the most impact with what they're handed and even the smaller parts occupied by Hope Davis, Liev Schreiber and Willem Dafoe humorously fill out the corners of this bizarre world. If there's a true highlight, it's Margot Robbie's sensational single scene opposite Schwartzman, which ties the movie's metaverse in knots to gain invaluably greater insight into Augie and the actor who plays him. Most assumed Hanks' cranky part was originally intended for Bill Murray, but the latter was actually cast as Steve Carell's motel manager before having to pull out. Regardless, Hanks puts his own spin on Stanley and Carell's tiny role would likely be a waste of Murray anyway. 

From the moment an entertainingly deadpan Cranston appears on screen channeling Rod Serling in a Playhouse 90-style special, it's apparent we're in for a rarer breed of nostalgic escape than Anderson usually delivers. A single viewing of Asteroid City won't determine its ranking in his filmography or win over doubters, but much of what the trailer hinted at pans out with Anderson flair, again making it difficult to separate the filmmaker from his creation. But like these characters, we'll just have to accept that understanding everything isn't the goal, or really even necessary at all.

The Batman

Director: Matt Reeves
Starring: Robert Pattinson, Zoë Kravitz, Paul Dano, Jeffrey Wright, John Turturro, Peter Sarsgaard, Andy Serkis, Colin Farrell, Jayme Lawson, Peter McDonald, Alex Ferns, Con O'Neill, Rupert Penry-Jones
Running Time: 176 min.
Rating: PG-13   

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

It seems with each new incarnation of Batman comes the promise it will be darker, grittier and more realistic than whatever came before. Tim Burton's Batman kicked this off, until Christopher Nolan came along in the 2000's and fans realized what was dark and gritty in 1989 suddenly seemed much less so. But more than any other superhero franchise, Batman has always been ripe for constant reinvention, its story and characters evolving through the decades, enabling it to be explored from many angles over various mediums. So in working with a property that's withstood creative ups and downs better than most, Matt Reeves probably didn't really need to give us something spectacular with The Batman, just as long as it was different from what we've seen before. And yet somehow, he's done both. 

There's a lot going on here but the most impressive aspect of Reeves and co-writer Peter Craig's script is that it doesn't lose focus over what should be considered a gargantuan 3-hour running length.That it only feels about half that time is a rare feat that can also be attributed to some terrific editing, with everything in the picture building toward one specific goal, with all the periphery characters perfectly fulfilling their purpose and function within the narrative. 

Giving us a grungier, angrier take, more psychologically traumatized on Batman is a risk, but the bigger one is its complete overhaul of our perceptions of what's surrounding him, most specifically a villain who's never been given this prominent a spotlight, or presented in such a terrifyingly realistic way. Everything a Batman entry should be, it more deeply explores the ongoing mythology of the title character drawing from a wealth of pop culture resources to explore themes related to criminal justice, corruption and wealth inequality.  The result is a thoroughly rewatchable superhero movie that hardly feels like one, proving to be as thought-provoking as it is exciting. 

Reclusive billionaire Bruce Wayne (Robert Pattinson) is hauled up in Wayne Tower with butler and caretaker Alfred Pennyworth (Andy Serkis). Wayne's spent two years as the masked vigilante known as The Batman when Gotham City mayor Don Mitchell Jr. (Rupert Penry-Jones) is murdered by a serial killer calling himself the Riddler (Paul Dano). Working with lieutenant James Gordon (Jeffrey Wright) to decipher this murderer's clues and messages, Batman remains at odds with a Gotham Police Department that views him as a public menace, But when the Riddler's notes lead he and Gordon to mobster Carmine Falcone's (John Turturro) Iceberg Lounge nightclub operated by the Penguin (Colin Farrell), a waitress named Selina Kyle (Zoë Kravitz) seems to know more than she's letting on.  

A mysterious part-time drug dealer and cat burglar, Selina reluctantly agrees to help, even as her exact motivations remain unclear. But as Riddler continues to target Gotham's privileged elite in hopes of exposing the corruption within the city and a rat informant within the police department's ranks, Batman realizes that he and his deceased parents may be more intertwined with this madman than anticipated. Who the Riddler is and what he wants is a puzzle he'll need to solve before the cerebral killer's dangerous plan for Gotham comes to fruition.

From the moment he appears on screen, Pattinson just feels right and completely at home as this version of Batman, or "Vengeance" as he calls himself. Supposedly, Reeves patterned this maladjusted, reclusive, EMO take on the character off of Kurt Cobain and you can really see it, well beyond the highly effective use of Nirvana's "Something in the Way" bookending the film. Michael Giacchino's moody score and Batman's frantic journaling and voice over narration only enhances that entire vibe, working as an ideal entry point into a tragic story that's already well under way by the time we're let in. Feared and respected, but entirely misunderstood, the idea that this vigilante can show up anywhere at any time is established immediately as the Bat signal hovers over the heads of Gotham's low-level street thugs and gangs. 

While it's basically become a prerequisite for any filmmaker tackling this material to somehow acknowledge their fandom of the '60's TV series, there's considerable evidence that Reeves actually means it. From the Adam West-inspired stitching on Pattinson's mask to the blinking phone and Shakespeare bust, these function as the clever of Easter eggs while still believably landing within this dark, grungy, broken down universe. But that's about where those similarities end, with Reeves' approach more likely to strike a chord with Nolan fans or those who appreciated what Todd Phillips did with Joker in terms of exploring the socio-economic strife and corruption within Gotham. Pattinson has very few scenes as Bruce Wayne but they're memorable ones since he's playing him as such a departure from the billionaire playboy we're accustomed to that the line separating Bruce Wayne and Batman becomes nearly invisible. 

Scarred by his parents' deaths and only capable of seeing the world in black and white, Bruce long ago abandoned whatever his philanthropic duties as a Wayne were intended to entail. And despite the promise of renewed hope for the city in the form of  idealistic mayoral candidate Bella Reál (Jayme Lawson), he sees only darkness. As a result, his bond with Andy Serkis' Alfred is probably as fractured and complicated as we've seen in any iteration of the character, with the family butler/caretaker's loyalty hardly acknowledged or reciprocated. It makes sense considering much of the picture focuses on Bruce's rejection of his past and humanity, of which Alfred is the only living reminder. If they are to have the surrogate father-son dynamic we're so accustomed to seeing, it's going to take Bruce a while to emotionally arrive there, even as developing circumstances are about to force that change quicker than anticipated. 

Batman's working relationship with Gordon might be an even bigger deviation from what's expected, as a scene-stealing Jeffrey Wright gives one of the film's best performances as the straight edge, incorruptible lieutenant standing alone against the GCPD in his support of Batman. It's kind of odd seeing the two already with this shorthand way of communicating and cooperating well before much of the action even gets underway, with Batman frequently standing side-by-side with police at crime scenes, much to the officers' loud objections. Wright's enormous role is second only to Batman in prominence, at times even equaling it, as the wry, world weary lieutenant finds himself frequently stuck between a rock and a hard place in regard to his loyalties.

More Selina Kyle than Catwoman, Zoë Kravitz proves to be a quietly strong but powerful force, occupying a moral grey area Batman wants little to do with since he deals only in absolutes. Similarly, the Waynes represent everything about the city's cesspool of privilege that's ruined her life, as it's Batman's willingness to play ball with the police that disgusts her most. Despite their differing philosophies, both are looking to expose the same thing, but fighting to find a middle ground before realizing they're far more alike than different. If she and Pattinson have electric chemistry, Reeves is smart enough to pick his spots and not let that connection overwhelm the picture or overshadow the main crime plot, which is substantial and multi-faceted. 

Whatever criticisms could be made about the script being convoluted or overstuffed is offset by a meticulous construction that demands your fullest attention at every moment. If forced to choose, Colin Farrell's Penguin probably has to least to do since at this point he's a grubby, low-level mobster having not yet ascended to the crime lord he's better known as. But even that's fine since Turturro picks up the slack while an unrecognizable Farrell's prosthetic transformation and slimy performance as Oswald "Ozzy" Cobblepot definitely leaves a lasting impression sure to have viewers scratching their heads in disbelief that it's really him. He's also at the center of a fiery, high-speed Batmobile chase that marks the vehicle's only appearance, albeit a really memorable one. An actual muscle car customization this time around, it's a well needed and welcome departure from the series of modified tanks used in the more recent entries and accurately fits something you'd expect to see Pattinson's version of Batman drive.

Inspired by California's notorious Zodiac killer from 1960', Reeves' ingenious take on the Riddler may as well be considered a full-on cinematic reincarnation, not just physically in terms of costume, but in the character's use of ciphers and hidden messages. Frighteningly played by a masked Paul Dano as this disturbing symbol of madness incarnate, he's about as dark as any Batman villain has gotten, with his arc justifiably earning comparisons to Se7en and Zodiac. Adding a realistic heft that hasn't been fully present for Batman since he tangled with Ledger's Joker in The Dark Knight, his viral videos provide the film with its timeliest evocation of true crime, while the design and conceit behind the murderous traps should remind many of Jigsaw on his best day. Reeves also wisely restrains himself from having the character overstay his welcome, maximizing those carefully chosen appearances for all they're worth.

Dano's demeanor and voice fluctuates over the story's progression, his silence evolving into a deep, menacing tone until the end where he really lets loose, giggling with high-pitched, shrieking delight at the chaos he and his followers unleash. When Edward Nashton does eventually get cornered (in a cafe scene masterfully captured by cinematographer Greig Fraser as a nod to Edward Hopper's famous Nighthawks painting) and his true intentions are revealed, Dano somehow escalates the character's creepiness, expressing his own twisted gratitude to Batman for helping create him. And it's during their face-to-face confrontation that we realize Riddler may have equally inspired Bruce's Batman to finally turn his attention to fighting for hope rather than vengeance.

Much has been made about the Joker cameo, but the film doesn't even really need it and is actually far better off rolling with the idea that he's the "Unseen Arkham Prisoner" stated in the credits. Either way, Barry Keoghan's appearance does little to detract from the fact this is Riddler's movie through and through. Considering we've had more than our fair share of Joker already, it would be far more interesting for Reeves to move forward with a different, underexposed villain more ripe for reimagining in a new context, much like Riddler was.

The much discussed closing scene with Catwoman undeniably leaves a door open, hinting that as close as Batman's come to accepting his role, Gotham's been left in decay, with no guarantee the worst isn't still ahead. With each developing twist and turn in The Batman, we become more involved, leading to a final act that delivers on all the promise and suspense preceding it. And by Reeves returning the character to its earliest dark noir detective roots, it earns a place in the upper echelon, telling a story much more intricate and layered than we've settled for from comic book tentpoles this size and scope.

No Time to Die

Director: Cary Joji Fukunaga
Starring: Daniel Craig, Léa Seydoux, Rami Malek, Lashana Lynch, Ben Whishaw, Naomie Harris, Jeffrey Wright, Christoph Waltz, Ralph Fiennes, Billy Magnussen, Ana de Armas, David Dencik, Rory Kinnear, Dali Benssalah, Lisa-Dorah Sonnet
Running Time: 163 min.
Rating: PG-13

**The Following Review Contains Major Plot Spoilers For 'No Time to Die'**

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

The first thing that jumps out at you after viewing the 25th Bond installment, No Time to Die is that it's really over. Daniel Craig's done as 007. We knew the day was coming, and yet, how it happens still manages to leave the kind of indelible mark that should separate this film from the pack. To an extent, it does, covering a lot of the same ground we've seen in many of Craig's previous outings while taking full advantage of a gargantuan, somewhat punishing running time to do so. It goes all out, but the most shocking revelation is that they chose to make a direct sequel to Spectre, which could be viewed as a victory for those appreciating series continuity. That's not a practice Bond producers have historically embraced, often moving from one entry to the next while only occasionally connecting the dots or leaving some Easter eggs behind.

You'd think all this suggests a forward-looking franchise, but the opposite's true, as different directors have conformed to a traditional 007 template that's been strikingly similar in tone, plot and execution. Cary Fukunaga rarely breaks from it, giving us the usual hits and misses we've grown to expect and have associated with this Bond run. There are some absolutely spectacular sequences followed by others that don't quite work, with the latter magnified by a bloated length filled with expository scenes that sometimes halts the momentum. But if Spectre dissenters can get past this picking up where that mildly received entry left off, it's satisfying in a lot of ways. Unlikely to supplant either Skyfall or Casino Royale as a definitive favorite, it should still justifiably impress many fans by further emphasizing just how much Craig's brought to the table during his Bond reign.

After a chilling flashback shows a young Madeleine Swann witnessing the death of her mother at the hands of future bio-terrorist Lyutsifer Safin (Rami Malek), we flashforward to the present where James Bond (Craig) is vacationing in Matera with Madeleine (Léa Seydoux) following the capture and imprisonment of Blofeld (Christoph Waltz). But when Bond's trip to Vesper Lynd's grave leads to a violent ambush by a group of mercenaries, he leaves Madeleine behind, believing she betrayed him. 

It's now five years later when a retired Bond is contacted in Jamaica by Felix Leiter (Jeffrey Wright) and his new colleague Logan Ash (Billy Magnussen) regarding a bioweapon that's been developed by kidnapped MI6 scientist Dr. Valdo Obruchev (David Dencik). Despite warnings from his 007 successor, Nomi (Lashana Lynch) not to get involved, Bond agrees to help Leiter, stepping out of retirement and on a head-to-head collision with the dangerous Safin. Initially picking off Spectre agents, he has a much more ambitious, demented plan of world domination in store, intending to use Madeleine as a pawn in that game. Terrifyingly obsessed with finishing the trauma he inflicted on her as a child, it'll be up to Bond to get to him first. 

A nearly half-hour prologue that features the snowbound Safin/Madeleine home invasion flashback sequence is unnerving and suspenseful in all the right ways, letting us know under no uncertain terms that what happens here will reverberate through the rest of the narrative and pay off later. And it mostly does. The surprise attack on Bond and call-back to Eva Green's Vesper Lynd might be the first time we've seen him attempt to process her death, serving as sort of a catharsis for fans who finally receive open acknowledgment from the many screenwriters credited on this project of her enduring impact on 007 and the franchise as a whole. 

Of course, the cruel joke here is that all this Vesper reverence occurs in a movie where Léa Sedoux is given the enormous role many would have liked to see reserved for Green had she continued past Casino Royale. There really wasn't any reason to believe Seydoux's character would even be back following Spectre, much less be such a focus that she seems to get as much screen time as Craig. But while still not sharing the greatest chemistry with him, she does give a much stronger performance in her second outing, and that's while being given about four or five times more to do this time around.

After an exhilarating opening and promising set-up, the action starts settling into a more predictable rhythm, with some occasional greatness thrown in. A typically inventive opening title sequence accompanied by Billie Eilish's serviceable but somewhat sleepy main theme leads us into Bond's re-emergence as an MI6 agent, which M. (Ralph Fiennes) resists. If the latter's carelessness can at least be partially blamed for the calamity that brought him back, the usual attempts to establish Bond as this reckless rule breaker who'd rather die than do things "by the book" are offset by all the pull and support he still has within the agency.

Since it's basically established that Moneypenny (Naomie Harris) and Q (Ben Whishaw) will do anything for Bond, retired or not, this leaves the only potential conflict within the ranks to be with his 00 stand-in, Nomi, well played by Lashana Lynch. Any fans bent out of shape that he's somehow been "replaced" should know it seems to be in title only, and not for long. She's very much a supporting player in Bond's story and at times seems as much on his side as Felix, Penny or Q, and probably even more than M. 

Ana de Armas' show-stealing turn as Paloma, a CIA agent assisting Bond in infiltrating a Spectre party in Cuba, is hands down the best performance in the film, supporting or otherwise. Playing a character claiming to only have three weeks training, she quickly wins us over as this bubbly, hyperactive, nervous personality who throws caution to the wind while also having a great sense of humor. Unlike any previous "Bond Girl" it almost feels demeaning to refer to her as such, as de Armas cultivates this easy, effortless flirty rapport with Craig that no one's quite had until now.

Full of surprises, the kick-ass Paloma proves to not only be deceptively dangerous, but the consummate pro whose unusual approach belies an almost astounding level of competence. Her stay lasts only about 20 minutes but does de Armas ever make the most what should be a throwaway role. That the film never fully regains that same energy following her exit should serve as a sign that this is the kind of fresh, contemporary character producers should be thinking about when considering directions the franchise could potentially go.  

If there's a drawback in the screenplay, it's that viewers will feel as if they're far ahead of Bond and the other characters in terms of the plot. There are points where it seems we're literally waiting for them to catch up to the grand scheme (which is no less absurd than some others in the franchise) and who's behind it. That's not to say there aren't still some really great moments like Bond's prison encounter with Blofeld or his emotionally charged reunion with Madeleine, now with a young daughter named Mathilde (Lisa-Dorah Sonnet). While it's not exactly a shocker whose child this is, the idea of Bond as a father has been unexplored, infusing the proceedings with a welcome dynamic that raises the stakes considerably, adding a fair amount of tension to what's already a strong final act.

Largely absent through much of the film's middle portion, Rami Malek's disturbed, disfigured Safin doesn't get as much screen time as you'd expect, but it still kind of works, building up the myth of this character until he finally unleashes hell on Bond. Judging by the end result, he almost has to be considered one of 007's more formidable challengers, with a fairly intriguing backstory that enables Malek to calmly, creepily get under his adversary's skin as a villain completely convinced he's the victimized, misunderstood hero. 

Saffin may not fully succeed in his global plan, he's able to do something no one has in setting off a chain of events that eventually take out Bond. The image of a shot, poisoned 007 standing atop Safin's headquarters as the missiles descend upon the island is about as emotional an end to Craig's run that you could imagine, especially given what Bond leaves behind. And like Spectre before it, the look of this island station is awe-inspiring, with production designer Mark Tildesley successfully paying homage to some of the franchise's classic settings of decade's past. All of it converges as a fitting close for Craig, who's always been underappreciated in the role, his performances wrongly perceived as being only as good as the entries in which he's appeared. It's a problem that plagued his predecessors, but no actor since Connery has done more to overcome it.

If it took Craig's exit from this notoriously risk-averse property to give us something completely different and unexpected, so be it. While they weren't really given much of a choice considering the circumstances, any serious backlash will be offset by the inevitability that this series will soon get a fresh coat of paint anyway, if not a hard reboot that goes beyond the recasting of its iconic protagonist. Whether that's something to look forward to is debatable, as we can certainly do a whole lot worse than No Time to Die. Either way, it carries a great sense of finality, sending 007 out on top and making it very clear that the Bond we've known for the past fifteen years is gone. What's left in his wake is a mixture of dread and anticipation for what's next.                    

The Hunger Games: Catching Fire

Director: Francis Lawrence
Starring: Jennifer Lawrence, Josh Hutcherson, Liam Hemsworth, Woody Harrelson, Donald Sutherland, Elizabeth Banks, Lenny Kravitz, Stanley Tucci, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Jena Malone, Sam Caflin, Jeffrey Wright, Amanda Plummer
Running Time: 146 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 
 
Having never read The Hunger Games series on which the films are based, the big question I had going into its first sequel, Catching Fire, was exactly how Hunger Games co-champions Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence) and Peeta Malark (Josh Hutcherson) would end up competing again. I mean, they won, right? Isn't it over? This installment spends the good part of an hour explaining how that's possible, setting up the circumstances surrounding her forced return and giving much needed attention to fleshing out the dystopian society mostly ignored in the preceding installment.

After seeing the original, I remember having a conversation with someone more familiar with the franchise and asking what was up with all those ridiculous costumes. "It was in the book." "It's the future." Those answers sum up my problems with the first film in a nutshell. This one has a scene where a female tribute, sick of all the pageantry, just strips naked in an elevator. That's the difference. All I asked of the first film was that it take seriously its premise of a reality game where contestants are fighting for their lives and that it not take concessions to get a PG-13, needlessly sanitizing the material so it plays better for the masses.

While this still certainly isn't a bloodbath, it's a big improvement that actually contains some ideas. For all I know they could still be watering everything down, but at least it doesn't FEEL that way this time and those compromises aren't as noticeable on screen. There's a concerted effort to explore the moral implications and fallout from the first film to reach beyond the usual YA audience. Francis Lawrence takes over for Gary Ross as director and while he's a workmanlike filmmaker without a particularly distinctive cinematic voice or visual style (probably a plus for tackling a tentpole franchise), he nonetheless does a excellent job bringing this world to life, proving himself worthy of an encore.  

A year removed from being declared co-winners of the 74th Hunger Games, District 12 golden girl Katniss and baker's son Peeta must now embark on the victor's tour across Panem's districts, as per the orders of President Snow (Donald Sutherland), still enraged over the fact they both outsmarted him, escaping the games with their lives. But now Katniss' job is simpler: Show the world her staged romance with Peeta wasn't a televised ruse to defy the Capitol, but real relationship that will continue long after the games have ended. For him, that's clearly true. For her, it's a little more complicated, as her boyfriend Gale (Liam Hemsworth) is patiently waiting for her back home, even as both their families' lives continue to be threatened by President Snow.

With Katniss and Peeta joined again by dissheveled mentor Haymitch Abernathy (Woody Harrelson) and kabuki-like chaperone Effie Trinket (Elizabeth Banks) on their victory lap, the one thing they can't do on this tour is give the districts hope, which could rally the already disgruntled citizens into rebelling against the Capitol. Fearing that's exactly what's happening, Snow enlists newly appointed Gamemaker Plutarch Heavensbee (Philip Seymour Hoffman) to destroy Katniss. His master plan: Hold another Hunger Games.

The idea that there would be an "All-Star Edition" of the games that include previous winners from all the districts just so Katniss and Peeta could be thrown to the wolves (or in this case, killer baboons) in the arena again is inspired. Why they're being forced to compete again and how it ties into their influence as celebrities inciting a social rebellion is certainly more compelling than anything in the first film, where it seemed as if there was no danger or stakes at all. Much more than before, they're targets that Snow wants killed or at least made into examples to crush the public's spirits.

It helps that this time there's an hour of build-up getting to know this world and dealing with the fact that these two competed on a reality show where kids killed each other for entertainment. They must have opinions and feelings on that, so it was nice to finally get them. And see legitimate threatening danger in the form of Peacekeepers (basically stormtroopers with flamethrowers) led by a scary Commander Thread (Patrick St. Esprit) baring down on the districts to "keep order." We even see a public lashing. The actual Hunger Games mean nothing without context or a sense of why they're happening. In the first 60 minutes the material finally earns its popular comparisons to Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery" while strangely invoking new ones like Fahrenheit 451 in its depiction of a politically oppressive dystopia. Too much set-up? Maybe, but it's time well spent considering how little we got in the first film.

That the possibility exists that Woody Harrelson's drunken Haymitch, a former winner, could again be competing if called as tribute speaks to the unpredictability surrounding this outing. A key difference this time around is that they're not battling each other, but a government forcing them to go at it again despite promises to the contrary. Some new faces include the cocky Finnick (Sam Caflin) and District 7's outspoken, but dangerous Johanna Mason (Jena Malone). And due to the new format there are middle-aged tributes (played by Jeffrey Wright and Amanda Plummer) and even a senior citizen (Lynn Cohen) competing, all of whom have every right to be more furious than before at being there.

While the games itself was the highlight of the last film, but they're improved upon here with crisper CGI and the absence of a shaky cam that previously defined the action sequences, making many of them difficult to decipher as Ross went out of his way to avoid showing any kind of graphic violence. And considering this outing isn't helmed by a director known for visual wizardry, everything still looks much better than its predecessor, as the booby trapped tropical setting for the arena is staged well, but more importantly, feels dangerous. Katniss and Peeta have no idea who they can trust or what's lurking around the corner and that the screenplay (co-written by Slumdog Millionaire scribe Simon Beaufoy) has some thematic meat on its bones this time around only bolsters the suspense.

Now entering this installment with the "Academy Award Winner" title in front of her name, Jennifer Lawrence manages to give a performance that far surpasses her stellar work in the previous entry, only this time doing it in a really good movie. Freed from the shackles of having to carry sub-par material on her back, she now shows us what she can do with Katniss when she's written well and a meaningful story surrounds her. Unsurprisingly, the results are astounding, especially in that opening hour as she experiences a painful internal struggle about what she's done and its implications for Panem. If Lawrence is this good now and the franchise many worried would imprison her career and waste her talent has just turned the corner creatively, how much better can she get? It's almost a scary thought. Here there's much less to elevate, and yet, she still elevates it.

In the face of Lawrence's acting dominance, it's almost a backhanded compliment to say Hutcherson seems more assured as Peeta with each passing minute in the franchise, but he is. That they're taking a slow burn approach to his relationship with Katniss is a relief to those worried that narrative aspect would move to the forefront. It's even more subtle and restrained this time, carrying none of the YA baggage you'd associate with movies of a similar ilk and permanently killing all comparisons to garbage like Twilight. Liam Hemsworth still feels like the third wheel as Gale, but the cliffhanger ending hints that's soon about to change. More impressive is newcomer Caflin as Finnick, whose allegiance to Katniss and Peeta is constantly in doubt, even when his bravado isn't. Jena Malone, makes a tough, sexy Johanna, with the aforementioned elevator introduction perfectly setting the stage for a bold character whose intentions are also up in the air.

That The Hunger Games: Mockingjay-Part 2 will be the final listed screen credit of Philip Seymour Hofffman no longer feels like the travesty many have feared, as he gives a smart, subtle performance as Gamemaker Plutarch that's obviously a major upgrade from Wes Bentley's Seneca Crane from the previous installment. What's funny is how it seems like he just rolled out of bed and is put in no effort at all, until you realize it was a very deliberate choice for him to play it this calm and collected, further solidifying his ability to invisibly slide into any character. What was initially deemed a "sellout" role is instead revealed as an opportunity to appreciate whatever screen time remains of our greatest actor.

Elizabeth Banks still annoys as Effie, as I've come to terms with the fact that I'll just never care for this character or the actress's over-the-top approach to her, especially sticking out as a nuisance in this more serious entry. The opposite is true of Stanley Tucci's manic TV host Caesar Flickerman, who again is a highlight and a comic diversion that works because Tucci makes sure something twisted and sadistic breaks through. The script should also be credited for finding pupose for Lenny Kravitz's Cinna this time out, making his brief role count for something that reflects the themes of the story.

The first film may have been a slight misfire but it was never dull and a joy to assess because of its potential. And now that potential comes much closer to being completely fulfilled here. In an era where big money franchises don't have to creatively deliver to make bank, this one does and has ideas to go along with its action.  Movies are only getting unjustifiably longer and more bloated, so the fact this one is 146 minutes and doesn't waste any of them shouldn't be taken lightly. I'm still curious what would happen if the creative handcuffs were totally removed but they go as far as they can within the confines of a PG-13, recognizing and correcting nearly all of the previous film's problems. The only remaining concern is that movies like this tend to have a ceiling of quality and this may have hit it. Let's hope not. That it's been called The Empire Strikes Back of the series may be slightly overstating matters, but I get it. Catching Fire leaves us hanging and wanting more.
         

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

Director: Stephen Daldry
Starring: Tom Hanks, Sandra Bullock, Thomas Horn, Max Von Sydow, Viola Davis, John Goodman, Jeffrey Wright, Zoe Caldwell
Running Time: 129 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Sometimes you hear so much about a movie it's difficult to approach it with a clean slate. In the case of Stephen Daldry's Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, it's practically impossible. Considered by many as one of the weakest Best Picture nominees in years, just the announcement of its shocking inclusion last February elicited a chorus of gasps and groans. Whether its dissenters even actually saw the film or not, you'd have to figure much of that had to do with its 9/11 subject matter. And that's exactly what this comes down to since the picture isn't nearly awful enough on its own terms to provoke such a passionate response. And it certainly isn't controversial. Did it deserve to be nominated for Best Picture? Of course not. There are some problems with it and it's emotionally manipulative to a point. But at the end of the day it's a mildly successful examination of how an eccentric, intelligent young boy with an emotional spectrum disorder deals with death. Featuring some really strong performances and a plot hole big enough to drive a truck through, that's all there is to it. A mixed bag, but 2 hours mostly well spent.

Based on the 2005 novel by Jonathan Safran Foer, it tells the story of Oskar Schell (Thomas Horn), son of jeweler Thomas Schell (Tom Hanks), who died in the World Trade Center on 9/11, a date Oskar frequently refers to as "the worst day." Through flashbacks we see the special bond between the two up until his father's death with Thomas often sending Oskar on wild scavenger hunts to find hidden objects throughout New York City. Following 9/11 Oskar emotionally withdraws from his mother Linda (Sandra Bullock) with any discussion of that day ending in a shouting match. After working up the courage to explore his father's untouched closet 8 months later, he discovers a small envelope marked "Black" with a mysterious key inside. Assuming his dad left it there for him to find, Oskar looks up everyone with that last name in the the phone book sets out on one last expedition to find the lock it fits. His sole companion on the trip is the The Renter (Max Von Sydow), a mute old man living with his grandmother whom he befriends. With maps in hand and routes planned out, the quest is as much Oskar's way to extend time with his deceased father and make sense of what happened as it is to find the lock. He won't stop until he solves the mystery, but in doing so he may be forced to come to the realization his father's actually gone.

This is a strange film and for all the criticisms leveled against it at least it presents a type of protagonist we've never seen before but whose patterns of behavior will be immediately recognizable to some. During Oskar's voiceover narration in the first hour he states he was tested for Asperger's but the results came back inconclusive. Maybe in an effort to drum up some ambiguity for the character or fear that officially diagnosing him would create a pity party, Academy Award winning screenwriter Eric Roth lets the viewers speculate as to whether something's wrong with him. Well, there clearly is. He's either a really high functioning autistic or suffers from Asperger's. It's more likely the latter and I kind of wish they had just come out and said that as it would have quelled many of the complaints against the film and Horn's performance, which is remarkable if you're able to separate the actor from the character. Oskar's supposed to be annoying, over-emotional and overbearing, so Horn, a child Jeopardy winner with no previous acting experience, often narrates the story as if he were rattling off  facts on that game show. It becomes uncomfortable when he gives extremely detailed descriptions of of every tiny aspect of the "worst day" but it's supposed to be and it's in line with the character. As for the 9/11 scenes themselves all I can say is that they feel terrifying rather than offensive or emotionally manipulative. Nothing seems to come off as disrespectful, even though that doesn't even address the real issue here. Despite a handful of films having already been released handling the topic, the question of whether it's "too soon" will keep coming up and while it's up to each individual viewer to decide that for themselves, those against the idea would still be against it regardless of how this was presented.

The first hour of the film literally lives up to its title as we probably spend about as much one on one time with this kid that is bearable, but luckily the flashbacks with his father work and Tom Hanks is his usual likable self. Bullock, in her first post-Blind Side role, is affecting too, with nearly all the uncomfortable 9/11 scenes falling squarely on her lap. It isn't necessarily a large part, but it's challenging and she delivers a nice, low key performance. Her character won't be winning any "Mother of the Year" awards as the film's biggest flaw is how she'd let a 11-year-old just wander the streets of New York. There's an attempt at an explanation for this later but it's a weak one that does little to erase a huge gap in logic that could have easily been fixed by having him just run away instead.

The arrival of Max Von Sydow's mute unnamed renter into the story may as well mark the start of the film as that's when the narrative starts gaining real momentum. From the minute he appears the 82-year-old's Oscar-nominated supporting turn provides the young actor with someone interesting and more experienced to bounce off of during the journey.What's more impressive than Von Sydow giving an entirely silent performance is that it's so expressive that words would have probably been a distraction. He gets his point across so clearly he doesn't even need them and any scene in the film without him seems weaker because of it. Viola Davis and Jeffrey Wright give small but crucial performances as two strangers Oskar meets on his adventure and elevate their material considerably, especially Wright who figures in huge in the third act. And for a movie centering around a mystery that really isn't "about" the mystery, its payoff is surprisingly satisfying. 

Having carried the similarly controversial Holocaust drama The Reader to a detested Best Picture nomination in 2008, director Stephen Daldry has proven he isn't afraid to tackle tumultuous subject matter through a sentimental lens. He goes all out here, but respectfully and with a consistent tone, resulting once again in a mild success. So far there have actually been quite a few movies that in some form or another revolve around the 9/11 tragedy. United 93 and World Trade Center were dramatic interpretations of the actual event with the former employing a docudrama approach that gave the material a frightening sense of immediacy. 25th Hour and Reign Over Me touched on the aftermath, with the latter controversially using it as a plot device. What all these movies have in common is that no one was particularly comfortable with that day or its aftermath being depicted at all, regardless of their quality. In many ways this is the 9/11 film everyone's been dreading and hoped Hollywood wouldn't make because it involves a child coping with the tragedy. But its tough to argue that's not the most honest entry point. Neither exploitive or inspirational, it's a slightly above average, well acted drama that got too much attention for reasons unrelated to what's onscreen.

The Ides of March

Director: George Clooney
Starring: Ryan Gosling, George Clooney, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Paul Giamatti, Marisa Tomei, Jeffrey Wright, Evan Rachel Wood
Running Time: 101 min.
Rating: R

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)
 
Is there any better casting than George Clooney playing a liberal Presidential candidate? If the actor ran right now he'd probably win and you'd have problems convincing me he'd be any worse a choice than the other available options. Having also wrote and directed the timely political thriller The Ides of March, he knew the right role to give himself. As expected, he smoothly plays Pennsylvania Governor Mike Morris like it's effortless. But the film's not about him. At least not completely. It's about his press secretary Stephen Meyers (Ryan Gosling), who starts off as an idealist and ends up as someone else entirely. We kind of know that's where we're going but the real thrill is in how Clooney's airtight script and precise direction masterfully turn the screws to take us there. It's a step-by-step examination of how someone becomes corrupted and why our political system is so broken. It's a stretch, but not unrealistic, and I believed if something like this were to go down, this is how it would and these are the kind of bad decisions people make that allow it to happen.

Two such decisions send the story spiraling out of control and they're easy to justify because the characters making them are smart. The first starts with Gosling's Stephen receiving a phone call from rival Presidential campaign manager Tom Duffy (Paul Giamatti) trying to woo him over to their side. And for good reason. He's the best. It's a tempting offer since Morris' Presidential campaign is struggling and they're about to lose Ohio. An Obama-like idealist to his core (or so it seems at first), Morris refuses to compromise his beliefs to get elected, which makes one wonder how he got into politics at all. Topping the list is his refusal to court the potentially election-clinching endorsement of Sen. Thompson (Jeffrey Wright), which does come at a price. Stephen's on a sinking ship and knows it but his loyalty to Morris and senior campaign manager Paul Zara (Philip Seymour Hoffman) won't let him jump. But the opposition's interest in him is undeniably flattering, resulting in a fleeting moment of weakness that has disastrous consequences.

The second mistake involves a young, connected intern named Molly (Evan Rachel Wood) with whom Stephen becomes romantically involved. Only that's not the mistake. It's unwise, but the real mistake is hers. And it's a doozy. From there, the plot, with all its twists and turns, unravels and a reporter (Marisa Tomei) threatens to bust it wide open in a welcome return to the days in movies where journalists wielded considerable power. At one point Giamatti's character states that the problem with Democrats is their refusal to be like Republicans. They won't get down in the dirt and sling mud. But corruption crosses party lines.

A while back Clooney revealed his 100 favorite movies and now he's directed one that's an interesting companion piece to that list, recalling similarly themed political/conspiracy thrillers of the '70's like The Parallax View and All The President's Men. It's not surprising a smart, engaging film for adults would underperform at the box office right now, but that critics would use it as a punching bag is, with more than a few disparagingly referring to it as a glorified TV movie. I don't get that at all, even if it may be more a compliment considering the healthy creative state of television these days. It could be because it covers a topic that's often explored on the small screen or that the revelations in the film aren't shocking per se (though one did blow me out of my seat), but instead meticulously constructed and executed, like a chess game with its pieces moving across the board. And all the players are perfectly utilized.

Given the banner year each had it's no surprise Gosling facing off against Clooney on screen yielded such successful results, making Gosling worthy of competing against himself for a Best Actor Oscar if that were allowable (and now I'm thinking it should). In a way what he does here is similar but completely different to his more muted, intense performance in Drive in that he's playing a cool, calculated character suddenly rattled threatened by circumstances exceeding his grasp. It's a difficult role, but he expertly sells the tricky transformation from idealist to cynic. Giamatti and Hoffman are two of our finest contemporary actors, but they could have easily been marginalized in an ensemble like this. Neither are, with each at the top of their games making essential supporting contributions on which the entire foundation of the story rests. Evan Rachel Wood is tragically tremendous as the doomed intern in way over her head.     

I'll admit to laughing a little when Clooney's script (adapted from Beau Willimon's 2008 play Farragut North) was nominated for Best Adapted screenplay thinking it was just another way for the Academy to pat their favorite movie star on the back. But he deserves the praise, streamlining a complicated narrative into a clean, concise cinematic experience free of any excess fat. Technically speaking, it's perfect. Consider it the Michael Clayton of political thrillers, right down to its chilling final image. If that film marked the turning point for Clooney as an actor then this is his as a director, easily surpassing all his three previous efforts behind the camera which were solid, but dry. There's nothing dry or slight about this. Here's a movie with something important to say. The political system may be broken but those engulfed in it should look no further than the mirror to determine what's most in need of fixing.