Peter Pan and Wendy

Director: David Lowery
Starring: Jude Law, Alexander Molony, Ever Anderson, Yara Shahidi, Alyssa Wapanatâhk, Joshua Pickering, Jacobi Jupe, Molly Parker, Alan Tudyk, Jim Gaffigan
Running Time: 109 min.
Rating: PG

★★½ (out of ★★★★) 

With a traffic jam of live-action adaptations based on their classic animated films hitting screens, it was inevitable Disney would need to prioritize. So that Peter and Wendy went straight to streaming speaks volumes about where it ranks on the studio's agenda. Continuously remade, rebooted and sequeled over the decades, there aren't many creative avenues left to explore in J. M. Barrie's source material. If it dropping on Disney Plus wasn't a red flag, then a poorly received trailer did the trick, with many already jumping to criticize the effects and dark cinematography. Fortunately, what this has going for it is director David Lowery, whose Pete's Dragon proved an accomplished filmmaker is capable of sliding their vision into a highly commercialized family product.

Lowery (who co-wrote the script with Toby Halbrooks) isn't as successful this time around, and while it's not the disaster you've heard, the outcome is still uneven. Clocking in at a bearable length, for everything that works, you'd have little trouble finding something else that doesn't. The good news is that after a somewhat clunky start, there is an attempt to add some depth to the Hook character and his connection to Pan. But whether that novel approach does enough to sufficiently distinguish this from previous takes is debatable.

In London, Wendy (Ever Anderson) spends her last night at home playing with younger brothers John (Joshua Pickering) and Michael (Jacobi Jupe) before preparing to leave for boarding school the next day. Dreading her departure and not wanting to grow up, she's visited by Peter Pan (Alexander Molony) and his pint-sized fairy companion Tinker Bell (Yara Shahidi), who invite the three children to fly to Neverland, a magical island where Wendy will seemingly get her wish. 

Upon their arrival, the kids are attacked by a pirate ship commandeered by the evil Captain Hook (Jude Law), who vows revenge on Peter for cutting off his hand. After joining forces with Tiger Lily (Alyssa Wapanatâhk) and the Lost Boys to battle Hook, the complicated relationship between him and Peter is revealed, setting the two sworn enemies on course for another battle in their ongoing feud. As Wendy witnesses this, she slowly comes to the realization that her reluctance to face adulthood could carry unexpectedly negative consequences.

At first, the film does check off the usual boxes those even slightly aware of the story will recognize. To its credit, that's done quickly, but there are points where you wonder how effective an entryway this is for younger viewers getting their first exposure to Peter Pan, assuming that's even the project's goal. You usually don't hire a director like Lowery without plans to put a serious-minded, nostalgic spin on this, as we've hit a turning point where these adaptations aren't geared toward kids, but older audiences who grew up watching the originals. The screenplay does almost seem to be working under the assumption that everyone knows the tale inside and out, at least until it takes a fairly significant detour in fleshing out Hook's psychological motivations.

Wendy's relationship with her brothers and parents (played by Molly Parker and Alan Tudyk) are given no more than a few scenes before the action shifts to Neverland. It's all sort of flat until Jude Law's entertaining Hook arrives on the scene, playing the sleazy captain as if he's auditioning to replace Johnny Depp in the next Pirates of the Caribbean sequel. Things gets progressively better the more Wendy interacts with her new friends and Hook and Pan dredge up their messy past. The latter is a big change, but in the case of a familiar story beaten into the ground, any alteration feels welcome and this one actually plays pretty well. Any change to a beloved text is usually met with immediate backlash, but adding an extra dimension to Hook is hardly a crime when this desperately needs something to set it apart.

There's definitely an effort to be more inclusive, with the Lost Boys adding girls, people of color and a mentally handicapped member. That's fine, but nothing's done to give us greater insight into these supporting players than in previous iterations. A really likable Yara Shahidi makes for an emotive Tinkerbell, endlessly expressive in her facial reactions and body language, while Alyssa Wapanatâhk's Tiger Lily is depicted stronger and more respectively this time around. In addressing valid criticisms an indigenous character was treated insensitively in previous adaptations, this at least bothers to get it right, with the actress making a brief but memorable impression as the brave warrior. As Peter and Wendy, Alexander Molony and Ever Anderson don't have much chemistry together, but still fair well, especially since the film isn't contingent on any of the performances so much as the spectacle of a story that's been reheated countless times now.

Lowery has a good handle on what he wants to convey, and despite some occasionally spotty CGI, the production design and visual aesthetic is impressive, if thankfully not quite as dark as it looked in the trailer. He may have been creatively handcuffed a little more on this one, but it's not a debacle, as his style still finds a way in during some bigger moments. Peter Pan and Wendy tries to put a slightly different spin on the material, only to falter by not adding much to what was already there. It's become an all too familiar complaint for those tired of Disney reimaginings safely recycling beloved catalogue classics with increased frequency, but mixed results.            

The Nest

Director: Sean Durkin
Starring: Jude Law, Carrie Coon, Charlie Shotwell, Oona Roche, Adeel Akhtar, Anne Reid, Michael Culkin
Running Time: 107 min.
Rating: R 

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

The final words of dialogue spoken in Sean Durkin's psychological drama The Nest comes when a character is told under no uncertain terms to just "stop it." Give up. It's over. You're not fooling anyone. It may not be the denouement viewers were looking for or the explosive culmination of this slow burn of a plot, but it's somehow perfect nonetheless. Not entirely but perhaps partially miscategorized as a thriller, the film's a gripping exercise in subverting expectations, as notable for where Durkin chooses not to go with the material than where he does. For a while, we're just not sure where things are headed since the mood and tone lulls us into thinking supernatural elements could be at play or it's traveling down a road resembling that taken by Jack Torrance and family in The Shining.  But as the story progresses, I found myself increasingly relieved that it doesn't, as the performances, setting and characters are too complex for the script to compromise or merely settle into straightforward horror. 

Its creepiest elements hover ominously in the background, which is exactly where they belong. And none of the them have to do with the story's narrative, which fits squarely into the fractured suburban nightmare subgenre occupied by the likes of The Ice Storm, The Swimmer, Ordinary People or American Beauty. Accompanying it is a sinister mood that suggests something bad will inevitably happen, if said event isn't already well underway. We're not completely sure how or what, and that we seem no closer to that answer by the time it concludes will undoubtedly infuriate audiences expecting a spectacularly violent outbreak of some sort.

The true horror centers around a woman's realization her husband's in a permanent state of self-denial, pushing forward with an act even he's having trouble justifying anymore. And now after his most selfish, poorly motivated decision yet, he's taking the entire family down with him. So entrenched in its materialistic "me first" 1980's milieu, you'd almost be convinced these events couldn't take place in any other decade but that. Of course, it could, but things just couldn't be the same given how intrinsically its themes are tied to this particular period. This is Durkin's first film since his heavily praised debut feature Martha Marcy May Marlene introduced the world to Elizabeth Olsen, and proves worth the nine year wait, complete with a shelf life and accompanying discussion capable of lasting far longer.

It's the mid 80's and English-born commodities trader Rory O' Hara (Jude Law) lives with his American wife Allison (Carrie Coon), biological son Ben (Charlie Shotwell) and stepdaughter Samantha (Oona Roche) in an upper middle-class New York suburb. Allison teaches horseback riding while Rory's contemplating an offer from his former employer, Arthur Davis (Michael Culkin), to rejoin him in England to explore new financial ventures. Having already moved and uprooted the kids four times in the past decade, Allison very reluctantly gives in as the family moves into a dark, cavernous mansion in Surrey. With Rory gifting her a new horse and planning the construction of stables on their giant property, the kids are enroll in expensive private schools while he wines and dines associates at posh restaurants with Allison on his arm. 

Despite Rory flaunting the family's apparent wealth, nothing is what it seems, with him spending far more cash than he's taking in and they're soon miserable in a creepy, dimly lit house that's far from a home. Isolated and depressed, they attempt to make the best of it until it's clear Rory doesn't believe there's a problem at all, doubling down on his failed business proposals and blowing money by the truckload. Reckoning with the reality that the man she married is a greedy social climber putting on an elaborate show, Allison will need to decide how much more she can take before his uncontrollable ego decimates them all. 

The more we learn about Rory, the less there is to like, or even tolerate. Whether it's some combination of the move, location, mansion, circumstances or him just generally doing a worse job than usual at playing the role of a loving husband and father, the cold truth is now being fully revealed to Allison. In many of their heated verbal exchanges, she's able to curb his rampage with just a few carefully cutting words. It's a far cry from the film's opening scenes where Rory's making breakfast for the kids, driving them to school and asking about their day. His explanation for their relocation to England ends up being the first big lie we witness and it only worsens from there, as he soon gives up all pretensions of being a responsible husband or parent. The curtain comes down, revealing an image-obsessed narcissist, or as Allison would call it, "a poor kid pretending to be a rich." . 

Questions regarding identity and the stress of living a lie can't help but call attention to Jude Law's most famous role in The Talented Mr. Ripley, leaving little doubt that it had to be a major catalyst behind his casting. And this may be his best work since, with the actor making Rory charming and friendly enough to initially convey that friends and acquaintances would take him at face value. It's when this thin, superficial facade starts to crack that things really get interesting, like when he literally pushes his wife's rebellious daughter Sam out of the perfect portrait he envisions with Allison and "real" son Ben. It's clear Sam has a far different relationship with Rory, yet not necessarily an adversarial one, which makes his apathy toward her all the more infuriating. 

Roche's supporting turn as Sam provides a different take on your typical angsty teen because it's sprinkled with these self-aware moments of remorse and flickers of sympathy for what her parents are going through. Even when falling into drugs and partying, she displays an unexpected protectiveness toward her little brother, whom Charlie Shotwell portrays as completely terrified and withdrawn, clinging to his mother for dear life. It's tough to blame him, especially when, in a nice piece of foreshadowing, even the horse recognizes that this move was a bad idea. 

If there were any lingering doubts of Durkin's intentions, his casting of scene-stealing genre vet Michael Culkin as Rory's boss further emphasizes the film's sinister undercurrents. Rory's hotshot, hyper-aggressive American deal making heavily clashes with Arthur's more conservative approach, leading to a great Culkin speech that completely chops his former underling down to size. Jolted in such a satisfyingly clever way, Rory's entire game drops multiple notches for the film's remainder, making him easy pickings for Allison.   

As his inferiority complex takes center stage, you'd easily be fooled into thinking this is Rory's story when it's really about Allison unchaining herself and the kids from his hubris. Having transitioned from stage to screen in a big way within the past decade, Emmy-nominated Carrie Coon has what's arguably her biggest showcase yet with a lead role unlike anything she's previously tackled. Playing a woman so unlike her husband you wonder how they ever wed, she values work and pragmatism far more than cultivating any kind of image. Having hustled for everything her whole life, many of the best scenes revolve around her character's outward disgust at being paraded around by Rory as a trophy wife, calling out his excessive spending, neglectful selfishness, and in a great final stand, intentionally humiliating him in front of his clients. 

Allison's entire presentation and demeanor drips in the time period, with Coon incorporating it into every subtle signal and gesture. Right down to her clothes and sensibilities, she's a woman trapped in evening gowns and fur coats, quietly seething with anger that her entire identity is being so blatantly disregarded. But Coon never leaves much doubt as to who's really pulling the strings, with Allison letting Rory get all this out of his system before going in for the knockout blow. After impressing with seriously memorable TV turns in Fargo, The Leftovers and The Sinner, Coon manages to level up here without dulling any of the sharper edges that's defined so much of her character work.

Whatever hints were teased from its poster and promotional materials that Durkin would go all in on the 80's aesthetic are followed through ten-fold, from the washed-out, vintage TV sheen of Mátyás Erdély's cinematography, to the music, title treatment, production design, pacing and performances. Nothing here feels like a mere approximation of the era, making it impossible to doubt these characters are living in that decade while still not calling unnecessary attention to it. And all of this converges in a slow, steady stream of escalating discomfort, creating the eerie mood of a story heavily flirting with horror without ever fully crossing the threshold into it.

You know it's gotten bad for Rory when even his estranged mother thinks her son's a total fraud and he  makes a pathetically unconvincing case to a cab driver why he should win "Dad of the Year" for fulfilling the bare minimum of parental responsibility. He even gets a long, defeated Lancaster-like trek back to the mansion, unaware what he'll find beyond the crumbled remnants of the pain he's caused. It doesn't feel like a victory for Allison even when it should, as her one moment of celebratory freedom looks strangely lonely despite appearing to have broken free, at least in a metaphorical sense.  

The ending is the closest the script comes to faintly acknowledging something more supernaturally sinister is afoot, leaving that door slightly open to the possibility, though not by much. Calling the film unresolved or contending it doesn't lead anywhere ignores that maybe it goes exactly where it needs and no further, reveling in the curiosity that comes from speculating what happens to this family after the final credits roll. Rory's ultimate punishment is the realization that everyone's suffered enough for him to be exposed for the world to see, no longer in possession of the upper hand he only imagined holding all along.  

The Grand Budapest Hotel

Director: Wes Anderson
Starring: Ralph Fiennes, Tony Revolori, Adrien Brody, Willem Dafoe, Jeff Goldblum, Saoirse Ronan, Edward Norton, F. Murray Abraham, Mathieu Amalric, Jude Law, Harvey Keitel, Bill Murray, Léa Seydoux, Jason Schwartzman, Tilda Swinton, Tom Wilkinson, Owen Wilson, Bob Balaban
Running Time: 99 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)
  
One thing Wes Anderson's never been accused of is his films having an overabundance of plot and action. Even his best work is thought of as primarily aesthetic achievements, his stories serving merely as backdrops for highly stylized costume and production design and visual flourishes. In some ways, the highest grossing and most favorably reviewed film of his career, The Grand Budapest Hotel, doesn't represent a deviation from that classic Anderson template. And yet it also somehow does. This is the closest he's come to directing a screwball action comedy and it contains more story and characters than most would know what to do with. For the first hour I thought I was watching a masterpiece, but by the second he kind of lost me, before recovering and delivering something that's still special. There's a nostalgiac sadness hiding under the humor  that stays with you, as the many colorful characters populating the hotel mourn an era that's rapidly slipping away, or in the case of some, slipped away a while ago. But at the same time, the whole thing still manages to be a lot of fun.

Featuring a story within a story within a story, the film opens in the present day with a teenage girl reading the memoir of an unnamed "Author" (Tom Wilkinson), who narrates the book from his office in 1985, recalling his stay at Europe's Grand Budapest Hotel in 1968. It was then, with the hotel clearly in decline, that the young Author (played by Jude Law) encountered its elderly, reclusive owner, Zero Moustafa (F. Murray Abraham). Over dinner, he tells him the incredible story of how he took ownership of the hotel. We flash back to 1932 when young Zero (Tony Revolori) worked as a lobby boy under the Grand Budapest's eccentric concierge, Gustave H. (Ralph Fiennes), running errands and tending to the guests.

It's when one of Gustave's many older, wealthy mistresses, Madame D (Tilda Swinton) dies under strange circumstances and she leaves him a valuable painting, he finds himself at the center of a murder investigation and the target of her son Dmitri's (Adrien Brody) hired assassin, J.G. Jopling (Willem Dafoe). With the help of Zero and hotel baker Agatha (Saorise Ronan), he must evade capture and clear his name, even as war breaks out in their Republic of Zubrowka, signaling a cultural shift that will heavily impact all their futures.

I want to live in this hotel. That was my first thought upon seeing the majestic structure, which is rendered not by some fake looking CGI in wide, exterior shots but an actual handmade miniature model. Remember those? But it's what happens inside that ends being more impressive, with some jawdropping production design that makes you anxious to discover what secret or character is hiding behind every corridor, room and crevice of the building. The atmosphere may draw you in, but it's the story that keeps you there, as there's this pervading sense of melancholy that distinguishes it from Anderson's other work, despite still being very recognizable as such. The story's not only bigger than usual for him, but broader in scope and crossing over multiple timelines.

While Anderson's a filmmaker almost compulsively obsessed with the past, he's at least now found the ideal outlet by creating a story where all his characters are equally obsessed. Nearly every recognizable name in this fully stacked cast is given at least a moment or two to shine, but the the movie really hangs its hat on the friendship that develops between Ralph Fiennes' witty, somewhat delusional Gustave and his impressionable young lobby boy, Zero, played by newcomer Revolori. Not necessarily known for his comedic skills, Fiennes gives what may be his most memorable performance since his very different one in Schindler's List, while Revolori makes the perfect straight man to his zaniness. Of the rest, Goldblum and Ronan each make valuable contributions, while Jude Law and F. Murray Abraham breath real life and history into roles that could have come off as expository or mere bookenders. The rest of the cast have what amount to cameos, checking the usual boxes of Anderson's favorite actors. If pressed, the section during which Gustave and Zero find themselves on the run from authorities is the weakest, before the story regains its footing in the last third.        

This is actually one of Anderson's messier films, but that's of little consequence considering how ambitious the undertaking is and the ease by which it would rank amongst his most visually daring. He really swung for the fences this time and there's explanation as to why it all works other than the fact that he's become a brand unto himself, with no other filmmaker viewing the world quite like he does. As usual, his whimsical style perfectly suits oddball material, but it isn't calling as much attention to itself as it is reflecting the story's darker themes. And this is all about telling stories, to the point you could easily categorize it as a great epic novel put to film, right down to the impeccably realized hotel of the film's title, which seems as much alive (or in some cases as dead) as those inhabiting it. The more you start considering how much he accomplished here, the larger it looms.

Side Effects

Director: Steven Soderbergh
Starring: Rooney Mara, Channing Tatum, Jude Law, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Ann Dowd, Polly Draper, David Costabile, Mamie Gummer
Running Time: 106 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)
 
The character Rooney Mara plays in Side Effects is so interesting and complex it's easy to imagine a wide variety of films across different genres that her protagonist could have been the centerpiece of. It just so happens that the one Steven Soderbergh decided to make is a 90's-style psychological thriller. And who would have guessed? He's really good at it. Of course, it's not that much of a surprise. He's good at most things, often impossible to pigeonhole into any specific genre. I had originally intended to label this, his supposed send-off as a feature director, as "smart" or "clever" until further reflection convinced me the story itself is kind of prepostruous. Almost spectacularly so, with twists and turns so far-fetched and convoluted they would never hold up in any cinematic court of law, much less a real one. And yet, Soderbergh brings an artistry to the material that makes it seem incredibly intelligent. It's all in the "how" and by the end I was almost howling with laughter at the events that went down, which, for a change, is actually meant as a sincere compliment.

Mara is Emily Taylor, whose husband Martin (Channing Tatum) has just recently been released from prison after serving a four year sentence for insider trading. His return and Emily's struggles to adjust to a less opulent lifestyle causes her depression to resurface when she drives her car head-on into a parking garage wall in an apparent suicide attempt. Psychiatrist Dr. Jonathan Banks (Jude Law) is put in charge of her care, prescribing her a variety of anti-depressants while consulting with her former therapist Victoria Siebert (Catherine Zeta-Jones) regarding her history and the best approach to treatment. Seemingly an emotional wreck on meds or off, Emily tries a new experimental drug called Ablixa, which allows her to function normally, aside from one dangerous side effect. This causes another incident where the intended victim this time the isn't herself, causing a controversial ethical and legal dilemma. Then twists and turns come at full force.

Initially the film moves at a deliberate, methodical pace that  practically mirrors the mood of the depressed, withdrawn Emily. Until it doesn't. For a while the movie itself also seems to be on meds as the first hour plays as almost a dream, giving us as good a glimpse as any into what it must be like to be utterly and hopeless to the point of being barely functional. While depression is usually defined as the inability to construct a future, for a while we wonder if this girl's even able to construct a present. She also seems gifted with the most understanding mother-in-law (Ann Dowd) and boss (Polly Draper) on the planet. Then the big event happens and I'll be careful not reveal too much other than a crime is committed that has huge ramifications for every character and calls into question just how responsible a doctor should be held over their patient's actions, as well as how responsible an actual patient is for their own behavior while under the heavy influence of prescription medication. As quickly as screenwriter Scott Z. Burns brings up these issues, he ditches them in favor of going a route that's a bit sillier, but still expertly crafted. And the transition getting there is seamless. The twists and turns aren't exactly shocking when you think back on them and a great deal of what happens stretches credibility even for a legal potboiler, but everything is just too well executed and performed for the viewer not to be totally sucked in.

When it becomes apparent where everything's going, you start to realize how tricky the scenes are to perform and that none of it would have succeeded without Mara's sad, almost other worldly performance that evolves into something else entirely in the film's second half. Some actresses just have that"it" factor. An indescribable presence that can't be described in any way other than an inability for audiences to take their eyes off them whenever they're on screen. She's got it and is able to convey so much with just her face that dialogue hardly even seems necessary during the opening hour. Only when the final credits roll do you realize just how much she had to do without looking like she was doing anything at all and how the original casting choice of Blake Lively (who dropped out before filming) probably wouldn't have fit what Soderbergh was going for because of her accessibility and openness as a movie star type. Mara is much harder to read and far less accessible as an actress, which only serves to help make her more captivating than ever here.

For Law and Zeta-Jones this represents their highest profile roles in some time, with the former basically owning the movie's second half as lead when the focus shifts to Dr. Banks, while Jones chews up and relishes what might be the most  over-the-top, certifiably insane part the usually buttoned-up actress has had yet. Tatum has by far the smallest and briefest role, but following last year's discovery that he's actually a good actor, the floodgates have opened in terms of the types of roles he can play. Despite limited screen time, he's believable in this one.

While the debate's already underway as to Soderbergh's best film (Contagion gets my vote), there's little doubt this is easily his most fun. He has a very distinctive visual style that really seems to have come into its own in his last few releases and there's mistaking that this very much bares his mark, with a script that matches his cool, clinical aesthetic perhaps more than any of his previous efforts. The direction definitely outweighs the script, as it's easy to imagine a low-rent version of this that would go straight to video on demand or play on cable late at night if it were put in the hands of a less accomplished filmmaker.  It takes real skill to take material that treads similar territory as cheesy thrillers like Jade or Wild Things and turn it into high art but he pulls it off with style to spare. And without Mara in the lead I'm not sure any of it would have been possible, as she conclusively puts to bed any doubts she's the real deal. If Side Effects really is Soderbergh's last feature before retiring (which I don't buy for a second by the way), it'll be hard for anyone to say it wasn't a fun way to go out.

From The Vault: Closer

Director: Mike Nichols
Starring: Natalie Portman, Jude Law, Julia Roberts, Clive Owen, Running Time: 104 min.
Rating: R
Release Date: 2004

*** (out of ****)

"A heart is a fist covered in blood!"
- Larry

"Lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off, but its better if you do."
-Alice

Released in December, 2004 Mike Nichols' Closer (based on Patrick Marber's acclaimed stage play) is likely one of the angriest films about sex and relationships you'll ever witness. It unfolds like a chess game, with each character carefully making their move to inflict pain on one other and, in an interesting twist, using the truth instead of lies to do it. The film, which garnered supporting acting Oscar nominations for Natalie Portman and Clive Owen, also has some of the most insanely quotable dialogue in recent memory. The first quote you see above is actually one of the tamer lines in the film, but merely transcribing can do no justice to the ferocity with which Clive Owen's character delivers it. Anyone familar with the band Panic at the Disco! will probably recognize the second quote above (which was spoken by Natalie Portman in the most memorable scene in the film) because they took it as names for two of their songs.

It's a powerful film, yet when it was over I couldn't help thinking the whole didn't quite equal the sum of its parts. It checks in at a brisk but emotionally draining 104 minutes, which actually works in its favor because I'm not too sure how much more of it I could have taken. If nothing else, it's worth seeing as an actor's showcase as there are some really interesting performances amidst some admiteddly bizarre casting decisions. You'll see some actors in roles unlike anything you've ever witnessed them in before. For all you Natalie Portman fans out there (and I know there are many), you'll be happy to know that you can tell anyone if they watch one starring her, this should be it. But they'll have to wipe the drool off themselves when it's over.

"Hello, stranger." Those are the first words to open Closer as a magenta-haired Alice (Natalie Portman) lies on a London street after being struck by a taxi cab. She looks up at Dan (a whiny, annoying Jude Law), an obituary writer comes to her rescue and accompanies her to the hospital. It's the beginning of a beautiful romance. Well, no actually it isn't. It's the beginning of an emotional nightmare for this couple and one other, as well as for the audience.

Flash forward a year later and Dan has written a book based on Alice's previous life as a stripper in New York called (ridiculously as one character points out), "The Aquarium." He goes to the loft of photographer Anna (Julia Roberts) to get his shot taken for the book jacket and not so innocent flirtation soon turns into something more. Maybe the best moment in the entire film occurs when Alice arrives at Anna's loft to meet Dan. I'm not going to spoil what happens in the scene, but the way it plays out is nothing like what you'd expect and Portman is amazing in it. However Anna, who spends most of this movie falsely believing she's on a moral ground higher than the rest of these characters, puts the skids on the relationship.

An angry Dan decides to play a little prank on her. He poses as Anna in a dirty internet chat room and sets up a meeting with Larry (Clive Owen), a horny dermatologist who's in for the embarassment of his life when he shows up and the real Anna is there. The joke's on Dan however as Anna and Dr. Larry's mutual amusement at the situation leads to a relationship and eventually marriage. We flash forward again a little further to Anna's photo exhibit and the affair between Anna and Dan suddenly seems to be on again, in no small part due to Dan's needy, obsessive, stalkerish infatuation with her. It's here where the story becomes emotionally brutal and the characters hurt each other rather senselessly and pathetically. They hurt only with words, but those words are like a knife to the heart as Marber's dialogue jumps off the page and out of the mouths of these talented actors.

We're used to romantic dramas, especially those involving infidelity to follow the same general formula. A man or woman cheats and then spends most of the rest of the film lying about it or trying to cover it up. Then the significant other somehow finds out and everything explodes at the end. This screenplay does something very interesting by having the characters being completely open and honest about their heinous behavior, thus resulting in nearly every scene in the film exploding with conflict. The movie is extemely talky (as most adaptations of stage plays are) but it holds your interest because of the power of the dialogue and the conviction of the performances. It also raises the question that if you tell the truth, does that make what you've done any less worse? Sure, these characters are being honest with one another but they're doing it just to hurt one another and ease their guilty conscience.

You'll have fun ranking them on their levels of deplorability as you watch the film. Many consider Clive Owen's Dr. Larry to be the worst of the bunch because he seems to take way too much delight in hurling his hurtful but witty one-liners and, like Anna, has a false belief he's acting more responsibly than everyone else. I actually thought he was the most likable because unlike the rest of the chracters he at least had the self-respect to fight back even if his methods were questionable. Owen (who actually played Dan in the stage version) is known for playing dark, brooding characters, but here he starts out as kind of a hapless sap, who due to circumstances beyond his control is turned dark and brooding. It's a huge transformation but Owen pulls it off and it's no surprise to me he was also able to play the role of Dan on stage and Larry on screen. He's that versatile.

2004 was the year Jude Law was in just about every other movie and he's the weak link in this as he mopes from scene to scene adding nothing to the role of Dan. I realize this guy is supposed to be a loser and a coward, but Jonathan Rhys Meyers played nearly the exact same role a year later in Woody Allen's Match Point to far greater effect. Law just seemed to sleep walk through this. Julia Roberts is actually really, really good as Anna. That I believed Law's character would cheat on Alice with her (when on paper it would seem unfathomable) is a high compliment to Julia as an actress. There's also something really funny and exciting seeing an actress who's been known as "America's sweetheart" having to deliver the dirty, graphic lines she does in this movie. Here's an example of casting against type that actually works.

The most sympathy to be had is for Alice, in no small part due to the fact that Portman is playing her, which I'm sure Nichols knew. She gives a great performance , made all the more brave and admirable by the fact that, like Roberts, she is completely miscast. By the end though, our sympathy dwindles for her as we're given a hint she not only hasn't been straight with the other characters, but with us.

What's strange about the film is that it presents itself as a no holds barred look at sex, infidelity and relationships but there's absolutely no sex or nudity in the picture. The closest we get is the now relatively infamous scene at the strip club with Alice and Dr. Larry. This encounter should give Portman fans a heart attack and joins the list of reasons the pause button on a remote control was invented. It comes dangerously close to being offensive and expoitive but Portman's performance reigns it in. I read an interview with her saying she took this role to overcome her fears and prove to herself she could do something different like this. She did, but I'm not sure at what cost or whether that's the right reason to ever take a role. Supposedly a nude scene was filmed then taken out at her insistence. but trust me she comes close enough that it didn't really make a difference either way. From what we know about her and her previous film choices, this had to be an ordeal for her to shoot and I commend her bravery in doing it.

Since the movie was filmed by Mike Nichols (The Graduate, Who's Afraid of Virgina Woolf?) we know at least an adequate job was done visually to make it look like it's an important film. I have to be honest though and say that by the end I'm not too sure what we accomplished. Everything seemed to go back to where it started off originally, despite Nichols' attempt to visually convey an amazing transformation of sorts (for Alice at least) at the end. That attempt, which really bookends the entire story, is set to Damien Rice's haunting and hypnotic song "The Blower's Daughter." I mention that not only because it's an integral part of the story because the music video for that song is the only special feature available on the DVD release of this film.

You'd figure if any film deserved an in depth analysis complete with commentaries and interviews it was this. How did Portman feel about doing that strip club scene and how did she approach it? What would director Nichols have to say about the deeper themes of the story and how he tried to convey them? You could go on all day. A film exploring as many issues as this deserved a double disc set. The movie may not be as important as Nichols intended it to be but there is a certain cruel irony in the film's title. When the story's over we feel no closer to the main characters than they do to one another, which is probably for the better.