Don't Look Up

Director: Adam McKay
Starring: Leonardo DiCaprio, Jennifer Lawrence, Rob Morgan, Cate Blanchett, Meryl Streep, Jonah Hill, Mark Rylance, Tyler Perry, Timothée Chalamet, Ron Perlman, Ariana Grande, Scott Mescudi, Himesh Patel, Melanie Lynskey, Michael Chiklis
Running Time: 138 min.  
Rating: R 

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

The loudest conversations surrounding Adam McKay's sci-fi satire, Don't Look Up, might center on the likelihood of an event as cataclysmic as what's threatened in the film actually occurring. But that depends on what you consider the real tragedy. A comet potentially wiping out the planet or the hilariously awful ineptitude in which that information's handled by the supposedly smartest, most capable in our society, entrusted to make decisions for humanity's well-being. Could any of this happen? The quickest answer is that it just did, only not with a comet, and this is what gives McKay's film so much power, lifting it from social commentary into something far more scathing and relevant. But that's only half the story, as it takes aim some of the biggest, timeliest targets imaginable, rarely missing.

Having already directed the polarizing The Big Short and Vice, McKay's no stranger to walking a tightrope that sometimes frustrates as many viewers as it delights, but this is operating on a much higher plane. What's most surprising about is how he manages to repeatedly hit these impossible marks, bringing the laughs for almost two and a half hours straight. You sit there expecting it to completely run out of steam because it's just so broad and of the moment, but the truth just keeps funneling through, exposing self-interested government and society that have no idea how pathetically clueless they are. Not that they'd care anyway.  

Whatever divisive reactions exist to the the film itself, it's much harder to claim Leonardo DiCaprio, Jennifer Lawrence or even Meryl Streep have ever tackled the kinds of parts they're given here. It feels like a real first, witnessing performers of their caliber strongly playing against preconceptions to juggle some really difficult material they likely jumped at the chance of challenging themselves with. Uncomfortably hilarious, it holds a harsh, revealing mirror up to a society many will recognize as pitifully identical to the one we've been living in for the past couple of years, if not far longer.

When Michigan State University astronomy doctoral candidate Kate Dibiasky (Lawrence) discovers a previously unseen comet hurling toward Earth, her mentor and professor, Dr. Randall Mindy (DiCaprio) comes to the frightening calculation that it'll hit in six months, resulting in an "extinction level event." Joined by NASA's Planetary Defense Coordination head, Dr. Dr. Teddy Oglethorpe (Rob Morgan), they're summoned to the White House to present this information to disinterested President Janie Orlean (Streep) and her obnoxious son and Chief of Staff, Jason (Jonah Hill). With midterm elections on the horizon and a scandal involving a Supreme Court Justice nominee breaking, Orlean selfishly advises them to just sit on it to avoid more bad press.

Shaken by the President's apathy, Kate and Randall leak the news to the media at Oglethorpe's urging,  soon discovering that the public may also not be as receptive to this information as they thought. But with Orlean's popularity dipping amidst further scandal, she realizes her team may be able to use this impending catastrophe and the scientists to her political advantage. With the help of billionaire tech CEO and key donor Peter Isherwell (Mark Rylance), Orlean's plan for handing the comet crisis is put into motion, dividing the nation and sowing unneeded doubt about its very real danger. It'll be up to Kate and Randall to convince the public what's really happening, but it might be too late, as the rapidly approaching comet remains on course to take out human civilization. 

From the very start, there's an anti-science sentiment Kate and Randall have to battle that quickly chips away at everything they knew about themselves and how the government, media and public view their work and competency. Or more accurately, people just don't like bad news and will come up with any excuse not to receive it. Undermined and humiliated from the moment of discovery, they're  now in over their heads, sucked into a machine intended to dismantle and destroy them for stating facts. While it appears one of them is more capable of handing this, even that doesn't end up being true, with the situation understandably rattling them both to their core in very different ways. 

The astronomers have unknowingly entered an arena where Earth's impending demise is laughed off and mocked by fluff morning TV hosts Brie Evantee and Jack Bremmer (Cate Blanchett and Tyler Perry), whose phony banter, goofy jokes and insistence on "keeping things light" result in some of the film's funniest, but most depressingly realistic moments. Blanchett and Perry are so good in these scenes, perfectly capturing the kind of annoying, celebrity and social media obsessed camera hogs flooding the air on every major "news" outlet. With hosts far more interested in music star Riley Bina's (Ariana Grande) recent breakup with DJ Chello (Scott Mescudi) than a comet wiping out Earth, the scientists start realizing the level of stupidity they're up against, which extends far beyond just the political spectrum.     

The journey DiCaprio takes Randall on is really something, as this seemingly nerdy, Xanax popping, numbers-obsessed scientist has to find his media sea legs after being thrust into the spotlight. A simple man enjoying a comfortable, if pleasantly mundane life back home with his devoted wife June (Melanie Lynskey) and grown kids, he's suddenly a huge celebrity pressured into telling everyone what they want to hear. And as those drawbacks and rewards push back against his principles, he'll have to make some tough moral choices. As a weakened Randall teeters on the verge of implosion, DiCaprio has what might be his best scene out of many, completely snapping as he channels Peter Finch's Howard Beale in Network with a breakdown that feels like the culmination of everything this guy and the country's been put through.

As Randall adjusts to becoming a media sensation, it's Kate taking the brunt of the backlash, framed as a fear-mongering psycho despite being more well-adjusted and sensible than most. Publicly demeaned by everyone from her journalist boyfriend (Himesh Patel) to the President herself, she's the character who earns the most amount of empathy, as even the naming of the "Dibiasky Comet" feels like an intentional slap in the face, putting an even bigger target of unjustifiable blame on her back. 

With an seemingly permanent look on her face conveying utter disbelief at this insanity, Lawrence's "comeback" performance after a three year break ranks as one of her most nuanced and fascinating, reminding us all what we've missed. Between the President's cruel categorization of her as a poster girl for "disaffected youth and mental illness" and her son's sarcastic cheap shots at Kate's looks and intelligence, Lawrence conveys her character's boiling impatience and frustration with often just a single, piercing glance that speaks volumes. Beaten down through much of the film, she never makes Kate a doormat, imbuing her with the strength and resourcefulness to curb this corrupt hypocrisy, regardless of the consequences.

McKay also incorporates all these smaller details into the script that make for a surreal viewing experience, like the fact this narcissistic, power-hungry President has her own incompetent son serving as Chief of Staff, adding nepotism and cronyism to the list of malfeasance. And if it's going to still be a long running complaint that Streep's nominated for anything, why isn't she even being discussed for this? It's one of the rare recent examples of her taking a huge unexpected leap with this blistering portrayal of a delusional Commander in Chief that may contain some Hillary Clinton mannerisms, but by the actress's own admission, is entirely based on Trump. What's most impressive is the nonchalant arrogance with which Streep plays Orlean, who never once considers the option that anyone will hesitate in doing exactly what she says while happily kissing her ass at the same time. And sadly, she's completely right.

Mark Rylance is weirdly brilliant as BASH cellular CEO Peter Isherwell, a nightmare hybrid of Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos, Steve Jobs, Richard Branson or any other eccentric, self-absorbed tech billionaire promising to better everyone's lives. There's an expected way to play someone like this, but McKay has Rylance throw that rule book out the window, instead giving him these delightfully strange quirks that add so much to the persona. From Isherwell's odd accent to the creepy calmness, he's either mumbling unintelligibly, leaving out words or staring into space while talking, often making no sense whatsoever. It would have been so easy and predictable to play him as this kind of evil overlord, but McKay's smarter than that, knowing it's the disingenuous benevolence that makes this character resonate. Rylance goes all in, providing his own bizarre take on how these very recognizable personality types behave. 

There have been complaints about film's length, but in this particular case it feels strangely warranted, and that's coming from someone who cringes at any comedy or drama going beyond the two-hour mark. As with any picture, you could probably find areas to trim and tighten, but there's nothing egregiously obvious here. If pressed, even the two weakest sub-plots involving Ariana Grande's pop star character and Kate's relationship with a skateboarding shoplifter named Yule (Timothée Chalamet) don't unnecessarily extend the proceedings. The former is given brief, proportional screen time while you could argue Lawrence and Chalamet's performances help land that latter storyline land in a much better, more meaningful place heading into the third act. As for supposed issues with tone, given the material needs to alternate wildly between laugh-out-loud satire and dramatic events that suddenly seem a lot less fictional now, McKay remains remarkably consistent.               

Just when you think this has run out of people and ideas to skewer or went as far over-the-top as possible, its ending moves the goalpost. But none of it would work if there wasn't something real there with characters who are invested with a depth that make them work as both parodies and people. Comparisons have inevitably been made to Dr. Strangelove, but a more accurate reference point might be the similarly misunderstood, even less easily digestible Southland Tales, in which an eclectic, all-star cast of actors are placed inside an ambitiously imagined universe on the brink of socio-political collapse. Don't Look Up allows us to laugh at all the absurdity, relieved that someone finally had the guts to just say it, and this entertainingly well. With an evergreen quality likely to hold up over repeated viewings, it's the ultimate time capsule, providing a crazy snapshot of a world where the truth's become convenient to dismiss, but even easier to ignore.        

Ricki and the Flash

Director: Jonathan Demme
Starring: Meryl Streep, Kevin Kline, Mammie Gummer, Audra McDonald, Sebastian Stan, Ben Platt, Rick Springfield
Running Time: 101 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

The most rewarding aspect of the safe but satisfying Ricki and the Flash is seeing Meryl Streep actually appearing to have fun on screen again rather than headlining another project that exists solely for her to earn an Oscar nomination. The problem with those dramas was never her performance, but that the material too often couldn't equal the skill she brought to them. If you're Streep it doesn't matter, but for critics and audiences who have to sit through them, each new film brought the realization that she may never be challenged again, stuck dragging mediocre material over the finish line during awards season. So despite boasting an acclaimed (if somewhat inconsistent) director in Jonathan Demme, it kind of comes as a relief that no such lofty expectations accompany this or her work in it. Or at least it doesn't consciously feel like it this time.

There's very little at stake here dramatically and that's fine. While Streep's performance still unquestionably carries everything, this is entertaining mainstream fluff, and as backhanded a compliment as that seems, it doesn't do much wrong. And neither does she. So yes,it's really Streep singing, and for what's asked from the character, she delivers in spades. The same can mostly be said of the film, which is fun and succeeds at what it's trying to do within its fairly constricting, predictable formula.

Decades after abandoning her family to pursue her dreams of becoming a famous rock star, Ricki Rendazzo (Streep) works as a cashier while playing gigs at a small bar with her band, the Flash, who perform enthusiastic covers of everything from Tom Petty to Lady Gaga.  Receiving a call from her ex-husband, Pete (Kevin Kline) that estranged daughter, Julie (Mamie Gummer) has slipped into a severe depression after her husband left her for another woman, Ricki flies from California to Indianapolis to be with her. Only Julie resents her, with Ricki having been such a spectacularly absent parent when it really counted that even her two sons can barely tolerate this homecoming.

Ricki's own life isn't much less of a mess, as she continues to uncomfortably deny (sometimes onstage) the existence of her very real relationship with lead guitarist, Greg (Rick Springfield). Always saying and doing just the wrong thing at just the wrong time, this family crisis forces her to not only reconnect with her adult kids and become a parent, but learn how to finally become a responsible adult herself.

We know that Streep can hit hit the necessary emotional beats this story requires in her sleep so the big question is how she fairs as a singer and performer on stage. And it's a loaded one. Since Ricki really isn't supposed to be this incredible talent that somehow slipped through the cracks of the music industry, but an older, well traveled, raspy voiced bar singer whose best days long passed, Streep's work needs to be judged within that context. So taken for what it is, she's actually very good, and even if sometimes it doesn't appear that she's playing guitar, that honestly didn't bother me much either. She's an actress rather than a musician and having one of the best in the role seems to be a fair enough trade-off.

The band's opening performance of Petty's "American Girl" did have me worried though, until remembering no one's ever really covered it well, or could be expected to. She finds her groove with just about everything that follows, especially a somewhat interesting re-arrangement of U2's "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For." Streep also performs the film's only original song, "A Cold One," written by Jenny Lewis, and while it's a good song delivered well from the actress, I couldn't help but imagine how much better it would sound if Lewis was singing it instead. Assuming it's nominated for Best Original song, we may actually find out.

If I'm dwelling on the music that's only because there's so much of it, which is a plus. Demme stands his ground enough to at least give us entire performances rather than just snippets of gigs, and while an argument could be made that this was done to pad a fluffy narrative, he does it at the risk of potentially exposing Streep's shortcomings as a singer and musician, which was gutsy. That gamble paid off since the band holds our attention and whatever the actress lacks in that department she more than compensates for in the authenticity she brings to her onscreen relationship with her real-life daughter, Mammie Gummer.

For a change, it's nice not to worry about clearing the casting hurdle of mother-daughter believability since they're not only really mother and daughter, but share an identical resemblance to boot. Of course, none of that would matter if it didn't effectively translate to the screen, which it does, as both share a natural shorthand that make their scenes together some of the strongest, particularly Julie's breakdown scenes.

Getting past the fact that Kevin Kline's almost comedically reserved Pete was once actually married to Ricki hardly matters since Kline is such a seasoned pro at playing the straight man to absurd characters. And while singer and former soap star Springfield fares about as well in his role as a heartfelt, grungy guitarist as Streep does in his rock star realm, the film's best performance is actually a smaller one in terms of screen. As Pete's current wife, Maureen, Audra McDonald defies expectations by actually playing this woman as a sane, composed, thoughtful person, who also makes it firmly clear she's open to having Ricki in all their lives, provided she shapes up, and fast. McDonald goes toe-to-toe with Streep in the film's single best scene, so sensitively navigated and performed by the former that it's hardly a stretch to say this entire story would have been more compelling if told from her character's perspective.

The ending either represents some kind of breakthrough for Ricki, or further proof that this is a woman who just can't resist making everything about herself. But in even making it about herself yet again, she still finds this roundabout way of reconnecting to her family, albeit under her terms. As odd as that seems, it does manage to feel completely true to the character. What doesn't fly is an out of left (or rather right) field attempt to make Ricki a conservative Republican just because someone thought it would be a hilarious reversal of expectations. It's not, nor are some of the distracting, eye popping performances from the extras at the wedding who can't stop staring at Ricki like she's just arrived from outer space. The point is clear but Demme should have definitely reined that in.

Diablo Cody's screenplay is easily the most conventional work she's penned, which is ironic considering it's partly based on her mother's experiences. But in this case, that might not be a criticism since she seemed overdue for something a little more mainstream and less polarizing. Still, it's surprising to discover the writer of Juno, Young Adult and Jennifer's Body is attached to a project you could picture characters in those films mocking.

There will undoubtedly be comparisons made to last year's slightly superior Al Pacino picture, Danny Collins, and for good reason. The basic premise of an aging rocker struggling to reconnect with their estranged family is nearly identical, with both even working in similar ways. The problem of fewer complex roles being written for aging actors and actresses isn't solved or even addressed with Ricki and the Flash, but despite its flaws it provides just the right dose of entertainment you'd expect.  
  

The Giver

Director: Phillip Noyce
Starring: Brenton Thwaites, Jeff Bridges, Meryl Streep, Cameron Monaghan, Odeya Rush, Alexander Skarsgard, Katie Holmes, Taylor Swift, Emma Tremblay
Running Time: 97 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Fairly or not, Lois Lowry's 1993 Newbery Medal-winning children's novel, The Giver has been both credited and blamed for ushering in the emergence of a genre that's come to be known as "YA." That Jeff Bridges has been trying to get the film version going for so long that his father was originally attached to the role of the title character speaks volumes about Hollywood. When things are popular and making money an entirely new genre can emerge out of thin air, making previously overlooked material seem "hot." Now The Giver, a fairly challenging story no one would touch with a ten-foot pole for the past two decades, is suddenly a "Young Adult Franchsie Property." It's the same categorization that befell Orson Scott Card's Ender's Game, which was considered straight-up science fiction until producers realized it featured young characters. Between the controversy surrounding its author and the fact they were trying to fit a square peg into a round hole, box office failure was a near certainty. So plans to make the next Hunger Games or Divergent out of Lowry's more philosophically dense material is definitely cause for concern, especially considering its shared plot point of an oppressive, dystopian future. Surprisingly, or maybe accidentally, this doesn't happen.

Director Phillip Noyce has made a restrained, meditative picture primarily concerned with ideas, sharing more similarities with Pleasantville than any of the aforementioned titles, with ambition that often exceed its reach. Better yet, the material doesn't feel dumbed down or sanitized to attract a broader audience, as YA adaptations tend to (with the exception of last year's Catching Fire, which really did it right). You can't ask for more than that, even if something's missing. It could be some logic holes in the plot or the fact that the bottom kind of falls out in the last half hour, but at least those are respectable flaws any movie could have.

When people are given freedom of choice, they'll almost always choose wrong. That's the rationalization the Chief Elder (Meryl Streep) uses to govern a future society in which its citizens are indistinguishable from each other, all their emotions and memories vanquished. Everyone is the same race. The concepts of "family" and "love" don't exist. Homes are referred to as "dwellings," that are every bit as impersonal as the word implies. People aren't killed, but "released into elsewhere." The Receiver of Memory is the only community member possessing actual memories that are only used to advise the Chief Elder on decision-making and train the next Receiver. In a graduation ceremony where the community's children are ushered into adulthood with assigned jobs, Jonas (Brenton Thwaites) is chosen as the succeeding Receiver, set to be schooled by the man currently holding that position, The Giver (Jeff Bridges).

While his assigned, nameless parents (Katie Holmes and Alexander Skarsgard) are proud, taking this important position is a sacrifice for Jonas, who's ordered to keep this new knowledge to himself, even as it tears apart his childhood friendships with Fiona (Odeya Rush) and Asher (Cameron Monaghan). Now exposed to glimpses of the past both traumatizing and joyful, Jonas must decide whether the citizens of this sterilized future can handle the truth that their controlled utopia is really anything but. And whether it's his moral duty to enlighten them, despite the risks.

Whether the good is worth the bad is the central question the movie asks and the script, regardless of its faithfulness to Lowry's text, does go all in with those themes. But the big takeaway is the striking, crisply photographed black and white monochrome look of the community, impeccably lensed by cinematographer Ross Emery. The absence and eventual use of color does invoke literal and mostly positive comparisons to Pleasantville in that, besides looking sleek, it's actually functional and organic to the story. Even if the eventual incorporation of color is more gradual and less dramatically executed here, black and white's purpose in depicting a stark, washed-out world of boredom and sameness is similar. It's interesting to note that the 1998 film uses a colorless past to embrace the future while this does exactly the opposite.

The idea that our collective past informs our present, and without it, we're left with the nightmare depicted here, which is heady stuff, at least as far as YA goes. It's ironic that the opening hour, in which we're introduced to this bland, anemic society is the most exciting part of the film and far more entertaining than when the stakes are supposedly raised later. Far from being phoned in, it's an intricate and fully realized world, containing some elements that bare more than a passing resemblance to Fahrenheit 451. Jonas' training is the centerpiece, as he's slowly exposed, through The Giver, to a past the rest of his community has been  "protected" from. War. Death. Love. Snow. Sleds. It's what he chooses to do with this knowledge, The Giver's motivations for sharing it, and the Chief Elder's reaction, that forms the conflict, threatening to finally awaken this society from its cultural hibernation.

By the very nature of its concept, the film isn't heavy in the romance department, using Jonas and Fiona's relationship to make a larger point about how their society suppresses emotions. That their deepening bond is an integral ingredient to the script rather of a sideshow distraction to reel in teen audiences is a relief and a credit to the likability of the leads. While strangely not a prerequisite for these roles, neither exactly oozes charisma, and even with the ages bumped up considerably from the novel, 25 year-old Thwaites is still a bit old for the part. But he makes it work and is easy to root for, as is Rush. Both are kind of upstaged by their co-stars, which makes sense considering those co-stars are Jeff Bridges and Meryl Streep. A bearded, warbling Bridges shares the most rewarding scenes opposite Thwaites, literally and figuratively giving color to a Giver that plays as the Dude crossed with his aging Flynn from TRON: Legacy.

One of the big highlights is a brief flashback entailing the disaster involving the Giver's disastrous training of the previously chosen Receiver, Rosemary, who's played by Taylor Swift in a cameo that lasts about a minute. Given her massive media exposure, it's a feat in itself her presence isn't an unwanted distraction that takes you out of this. Rather, the nature of the role does really suit her and Noyce wisely avoids testing just how much she can handle. From a thematic standpoint the part is actually important and you're left wanting more Taylor, which was smart.

Streep is perfectly cast as this authoritative figure and overlord of the society, even if the writing of her character eventually becomes a little cartoonish when she evolves into a sneering villain. Holmes and Skarsgard are given the difficult, but fascinating jobs of playing emotionless robots, which is sure to incite a bunch of jokes about those actors I don't necessarily agree with. An ice cold Holmes scarily slips into this disturbing dystopian "mother" role, frequently lecturing the kids on their word usage while Skarsgard is at the center of a shockingly dark and disturbing scene that really opens the flood gates of the story. With this intact I'm kind of amazed the movie escaped with a PG-13, as a good case can be made the MPAA has slapped films with an "R" for less. But at least this shows that everyone involved in this project took it seriously, rarely shying away from unsavory aspects to the material that could have easily been brushed under the rug.      

At a certain juncture in The Giver you realize it's gone as far as it wants and rest of the narrative will consist of checking off boxes and marking time. The last act is such a foregone inevitability that's it's really easy to just bail out and lose interest. Considering everything that came before, I was prepared to expect to unexpected, and while what we get is fitting and visually beautiful, it's certainly not surprising. The one big question bothering me was why this society even bothers having a Receiver. Isn't it too much of a risk? While their stated purpose is to advise the community, this seems like a lot of trouble to go through and too much temptation put on the plate of whomever is chosen to make it worth their while. But even that might be reading too much into it, as this is a great effort that comes close to transcending the genre's limitations by virtue of its big ideas.

Burning Questions from the 84th Annual Academy Awards

So I guess that whole banning Sacha Baron Cohen from the red carpet thing didn't exactly work out, did it?

And didn't Ryan Seacrest look thrilled?

Who would have ever thought the opening would feature Billy Crystal inserting himself into a montage of the year's Best Picture nominees?

Blackface?

Really?

Justin Bieber?

Really?

Wasn't Crystal in Tintin face slightly more disturbing than Crystal in Blackface?

Wasn't the segue from the pie-eating scene in The Help to the bathroom scene in Bridesmaids pretty clever?

Who would have thought Crystal would ever do a song and dance number?

Is there something to be said for not stepping out of your comfort zone?

Is it 1997?

No monologue?

Didn't the set actually look pretty good this year?

Why do I always seem to predict cinematography wrong every year?

Is it really THAT difficult a category?

That I feel more invested in the results since reviewing films be a viable reason why my predictions have gotten progressively worse over the years?

So how about J-Lo's dress?

Wardrobe malfunction?

Wouldn't it be great if we someday saw the return of serious actress Lopez who starred in Out of Sight, Anaconda and The Cell?

Did I just call Anaconda "serious?"

But compared to her recent work, isn't it?

How bad was that audio all night?

With its near sweep of the technical awards Hugo really had some momentum going there for a while didn't it?

Did that give its fans false hope it actually had a shot at the big prize?

Based on the clips, didn't the makeup for The Iron Lady actually look pretty bad?

Didn't the makeup in Albert Nobbs look even worse?

How about that standing O for Octavia Spencer?

How often does a film not nominated for Best Picture win film editing?

Weren't having clips of actors sharing their first movie memories a cool idea (at least on paper)?

Should Brad Pitt have offered up a spoiler warning before discussing War of the Gargantuas?

So Miss Piggy and Kermit introduce Cirque du Soleil but they can't find time to have the nominated Muppets song performed?

Wasn't it funny when Christopher Plummer pointed out that Oscar is only two years older than him?

Isn't it scary he's right?

How great was Crystal's dig following Academy president Tom Sherek's "speech?"

Bret McKenzie for "Man or Muppet"...most deserving win of the night?

Does Crystal's mind reading bit ever get old?

Especially when he's doing it to Nick Nolte?

Is Angelina Jolie okay?

Does it bother anyone else that Woody Allen no-shows when the Academy went out of their way to give him multiple nominations for an average film?

Why is it when Terrence Malick no-shows it adds to his mystique but with Allen it makes him look bitter and resentful?

We know these awards are ridiculous but would it really kill him to just once suck it up and graciously accept the praise of his peers?

Was Emma Stone (successfully) imitating Anne Hathaway's performance last year as host?

Was she the only presenter all night who was actually funny and charming?

Couldn't a case be made she deserved a nomination for The Help?

Weren't you glad the previous year's Best Director winner didn't announce this year's Best Director since no one remembers him?

Did you know it was Tom Hooper?

Who?

Wasn't the In Memoriam montage well done and classy this year?

Isn't it always a pleasure to be reminded that Esperanza Spalding beat Justin Bieber for the Best New Artist Grammy?

Natalie Portman had some work ahead of her with that Best Actor presentation, didn't see?

Didn't she do a good job?

Am I the only one who misses the five friends/colleagues personally addressing each Best Actor/Actress nominee?

Am I just saying that because I wanted Katie Holmes to appear and talk about Michelle Williams?

Would that have made the show for me?

And how exactly does Portman doing the work of of five people at the podium SAVE time? 

Given their connection with The Professional wouldn't it have been great to see her announce Gary Oldman as the winner?

Didn't Jean Dujardin have a Roberto Benigni/Cuba Gooding Jr. moment of excitement there toward the end of his speech?

Am I the only one hoping his post-Oscar career is significantly better than theirs?

How could it not be?

Didn't Clooney look legitimately happy for him?

Or was he just happy to be there with Stacy?

Given how her career's been going, should we just go ahead and reserve Michelle Williams and BFF Busy Phillips their front row seats at next year's Oscars now?

Did Colin Firth really need to remind everyone of Mama Mia?

Wasn't Meryl Streep spot-on when she imitated everyone's likely reaction to her winning?

Do I wish she would give her Oscar to its rightful owner Charlize Theron?

Did you know you can see for yourself when Young Adult hits DVD/Blu-ray on March 13?

How boring a year is it when Streep winning Best Actress is an "upset?"

Did this screw everyone up in their Oscar pools?

Are there even still Oscar pools?

Do you think voters realized Viola Davis' performance really belonged in the supporting category instead?

Has Tom Cruise aged in the past twenty years?

Is it ironic he was seriously considered for the role of Benjamin Button?

Wouldn't The Artist's catchy score make for a great ringtone? 

Given how much they played Mychael Danna's incredible score for Moneyball in the video packages all night, isn't it embarrassing it wasn't nominated?

Considering the year he had, wasn't it weird not seeing Ryan Gosling at the show?

Isn't it weirder he wasn't nominated?

After a really awkward start, didn't Crystal settle back into his role well?

Unlike Hathaway and Franco last year, doesn't it help when a host actually HOSTS the show?

Wasn't there something strangely reassuring about seeing him up there again?

Are you as excited as I am to not (mis)spell or (mis)pronounce Hazanavicius again for a while?

Should I just be relieved there couldn't have possibly been an injustice as big as The King's Speech winning over The Social Network last year?

Doubt

Director: John Patrick Shanley
Starring: Meryl Streep, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Amy Adams, Viola Davis
Running Time: 104 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

As a kid, I remember the public library in town always stocked movies, some classics, that appealed primarily to the "older" crowd. Doubt wouldn't be that out of place among them. It's dry Oscar bait that at times feels more like a homework assignment than a fully realized cinematic experience. Even the title is somewhat of a misnomer. It could very easily be changed to Here Say, Rumor or Gossip. We start in a position of knowing nothing and finish in a position of knowing...nothing. Not a deal killer by any means, but when there isn't anything other than the performances to support that, it can become an issue.

In interviews writer/director John Patrick Shanley has stated that the movie really begins after the final credits roll at which point you can discuss and debate. Discuss what? I hope he's not referring to whether this priest molested a student because there's no indication at all that he did. We're given no evidence, nothing to go on, so the film essentially becomes one giant true or false question. Here's a sample of a discussion I had with someone after the film:

Him: "So, think he did it?"

Me: "No."

That's about the extent of it. Since the film doesn't present any evidence or a compelling argument in either direction something is lost and the performances have to make up for it, which they handily do. The story becomes about feelings and motivations rather than guilt or innocence. There isn't much to weigh here. Still, it's worth contrasting this with Ron Howard's far superior Frost/Nixon, this past year's other big Oscar-ready stage adaptation. There, Howard opened opened up the story visually and used an effective narrative framing device that added tension and history. It felt like an epic showdown and a prize fight between two heavyweights. Shanley seems to have just grabbed a camera and shot the Tony Award winning play, which just so happens to be his own.

In way Doubt reminds me more of Rachel Getting Married or The Wrestler, in that it's primarily a performance showcase except for the fact those two films dug deeper and transcended that, giving you substantially more to think about when they ended. This is a solid, if slightly transparent effort completely supported by the caliber of the acting, which is downright brilliant across the board. For that it has more in common with Milk, though it doesn't carry nearly the same level of expectation and subsequent disappointment. At least here you get to make up your own mind, even if there isn't a whole lot to consider.

It's the fall of 1964 at St. Nicholas Church School in the Bronx where the principal, Sister Aloysius (Meryl Streep) rules with an iron fist, treating misbehaving students like inmates in a penitentary and inspiring fear everywhere she goes. Father Flynn (Philip Seymour Hoffman) operates in stark contrast, taking a friendlier approach to the kids and acting as an encouraging mentor. Nearly two years after the assassination of President Kennedy the world is changing, kids are changing and Flynn believes Aloysius' method of discipline is becoming irrelevant.

Caught in the middle of their philosophical struggle is the young, naive Sister James (Amy Adams) who has reason (albeit very little) to suspect Flynn may be carrying on an "inappropriate relationship" with Donald Muller (Joseph Foster) the only African-American student in the school. She takes her suspicions to Aloysius who despite having no evidence, stills pursues the issue, even involving the boy's mother (Viola Davis). Aloysius will stop at nothing in her quest to wrangle a confession out of Flynn and prevent him from teaching at her school ever again, making us wonder whether she really is out to protect the welfare of these children or is more interested in settling a personal vendetta.

The worst way to approach this film is as a moral mystery. What it is instead is a clash of values and cultures brought about by allegations that don't carry much wait outside of Aloysius' belief in her heart that they're true. And her belief could be clouded by a pre-conceived bias and intolerance toward the man accused of the crime. Or maybe it isn't. That notion is even scarier. There's the possibility that this mild-mannered teacher who by outward appearances seems to be a great mentoring figure to kids could have actually done this. Who among us hasn't ever just gone on a gut feeling and nothing more? The performances rather than Shanley's script, give the dilemma nuance and depth. With less talented actors you could easily envision this coming across as three talking heads debating a non-existent issue.

Streep and Hoffman draw you in with their lived in portrayals of two people with greatly differing views of intolerance, which is what the script purports to be about. Her Sister Aloysius starts the film as an ice cold disciplinarian and she ends the film as that as well so Streep instead makes our view of her evolve. We still dislike her by the final credits, but at least we can understand where she's coming from even though her guard never really comes down. She's set in her ways and grasping as hard as she can to what she believes is best for her students, ignorant to the fact that times have changed and left her behind. That's never clearer than in the sensational, some what bizarre scene Streep shares with Viola Davis, who plays the boy's mother.

Davis joins the company of Judi Dench, William Hurt and Ruby Dee in earning an Oscar nomination for only a precious few minutes worth of screen time. It's well deserved and in a way her character speaks for audience in wondering whether Aloysius has thought through what these allegations could do not to Flynn, but the boy. Mrs. Muller just wants to get her son through the school year in one piece and the absolutely horrifying idea is thrown out there that being molested may not even be his worst problem in life.

There's a whole world out there that Aloysius hasn't even considered or maybe just can't. Davis' character throws that in her face and the result is the only scene in the film that will have you talking afterward. It's a stretch and a complicated part to pull off believably (especially in so short a time span) but Davis does, holding her own with an acting legend in the process. Hoffman gives a benevolent vibe to Flynn that makes you want to root for him, but something seems off. A cloud of suspicion hangs over him, enough for you to consider that he could have done this despite the lack of proof. Amy Adams plays the quiet wallflower but effectively takes the character to the next level as the situation unfolds, even as her cheery, optimistic demeanor wears on you after a while

I was surprised to read in the credits that the film was shot by the great Roger Deakins and scored by composer Howard Shore because this has to rank among the least memorable offerings for both. I can't recall a shot that stayed with me or whether there was even any music at all. This is a performance piece and a front row ticket to watch some of our most talented actors verbally spar with one another. The film will likely hit hardest for those who attended Catholic school in their youth. Everyone I've talked to who has told me that they knew a Sister Aloysius, a Sister James, or a Father Flynn, if not all three. It was the real Sister James who inspired Shanley to write the play and its her objective but optimistic stance audiences will relate to best.

I admired the film but would never see it again. Nor would I feel compelled to discuss it since we know no more at the end than the beginning. Not even a little more. While it's is a superbly acted and at least somewhat emotionally involving picture I can't help but think that it helps explain why many dread Oscar season. Impressively crafted, but draining, Doubt is worthy of a couple of acting nominations, a hearty golf clap, and little else.

Mama Mia!

Director: Phyllida Lloyd
Starring: Meryl Streep, Amanda Seyfried, Pierce Brosnan, Colin Firth, Stellan Skarsgard, Dominic Cooper, Julie Walters, Christine Baranski
Running Time: 108 min.
Rating: PG-13

*** (out of ****)

What’s wrong with me? How could I like this? Incompetently directed, broadly acted and almost unbearably cheesy it would almost be too easy for me to slam Mama Mia! I don't even like musicals. The movie is an atrocity and a cinematic train wreck of grand proportions yet I still caught myself jumping up and down in my seat with giddy excitement. There are more laughs in this than all the year’s comedies in the past year combined. The only question: Does it still count if many of them are unintentional? When it concluded I joked with people that it’s nearly impossible to assign this a star rating. It almost doesn’t qualify as a movie, but rather a camera coincidentally capturing insanity in action. It’s so crazy and incoherent that it could be categorized as the Mulholland Drive of musicals.

Criticizing the film for being campy and over the top will get you no where since that’s the sole reason for its existence. No one could possibly argue that its in any way unfaithful to ABBA’s music and claiming their song catalogue deserves better than the treatment it gets here would be an especially ridiculous statement. Shamefully though, long after the final credits rolled I found I just couldn’t get those catchy songs out of my head. And against my will, amidst all the nonsense that unfolded onscreen, I did actually like many of the characters and cared what happened to them, a miracle considering various plots and sub-plots appear and disappear seemingly at will. Plus, I love it when big name actors star in something really silly and you can tell that they know it. Just seeing Meryl Streep’s floating head in an insanely staged psychedelic dream sequence is well worth the admission or rental price, but I want to find director Phyllida Lloyd and give her a giant hug for not only casting Pierce Brosnan, but making him do his own singing. And they say filmmakers never have the audience in mind.
What there is of a plot involves Sophie’s (Amanda Seyfried) upcoming marriage to Sky (Dominic Cooper) on the remote Greek island she’s been raised on her entire life by her single mother Donna (Streep). After reading her mother’s Diary she discovers that there are three possible men who could be her father: businessman Sam (Brosnan), banker Harry (Colin Firth) and adventurer Bill (Stellan Skarsgard). The goofy two-second flashbacks showing us what they looked like back in the day, while completely predictable, are nonetheless hilarious.

To her mom's surprise, Sophie invites all three men to her wedding in a covert attempt find her real father in time for him to give her away at the wedding. Their presence triggers a trip down memory lane for Donna, who reminisces in song about her romantic foibles and leans on her two best friends and former band mates, Rosie (Julie Walters) and Tanya (Christine Baranski) for emotional support. In details hysterical in their randomness, Rosie is a bestselling cookbook author while Tanya is a presented as some kind of “cougar” on the prowl for younger men, the latter of which results in one of the film’s funnier musical numbers (“Does Your Mother Know”). Both actresses ham it up appropriately in their roles, especially Walters. Of course, Donna is awful slow in figuring out her daughter’s agenda and a quickie paternity test would have probably been far easier, it wouldn’t have nearly been as much fun as the horrendously choreographed song and dance numbers we’re treated to, as well as the bizarre sub-plots.

A minute didn’t pass during this film where I wasn’t laughing, but the biggest laughs came when Brosnan sang, or at least attempted to. Fresh off the early rounds of American Idol and looking as physically uncomfortable as possible, the sounds he makes less resemble singing than the torture of a live animal. But you know what? He doesn’t care and is clearly enjoying himself. You’ve got to respect that. And it is kind of fresh and different having an actor who sings about as bad as we (or at least I) would in a musical. I have to admit though the second he opened his mouth I hit the floor. It takes some getting used to but the good news is you’ll have some time because the amount of singing Brosnan has to do at the end of the film is insane. This would be a heavy load for someone who COULD SING and Lloyd (who must be a sadist) burdens him with long, difficult solo (“When All Is Said and Done”) Christina Aguilera probably would have struggled through. Skarsgard and especially Firth fare much better in the singing department, though neither is particularly impressive. It hardly matters since both have passable voices and believably convey the necessary emotions.

There are two performances of real, genuine value here and thankfully they come from the actresses playing the two most important characters. Streep (a self-professed fan of the musical) clearly knows what she’s gotten herself into and responds the only way an actress of her talent level should in a thankless situation like this: By just letting loose and overplaying everything. She also has a much better singing voice than you’d expect. But the real star of this is Seyfried, who has a VERY bright future ahead of her if this role is any indication. They couldn’t have found a better fit for Sophie as she lights up every scene she’s in with her smile and infectious, playful energy. You’d understand why this guy would want to marry her and each of her mom’s former lovers would want to stake their claim as her father. As far as singing, she’s easily the best of the lot. It’s a star making performance at the highest level.

The entire cast is game but I’m not sure first-timer Lloyd (who helmed the stage play) was ready for this. Her philosophy just seems to be “point and shoot” as she basically just stages a play on film with rapid, distracting cuts and garish cinematography, never really exploiting any visual possibilities (though that it does make Greece look like a desirable vacation spot). Some stage directors make the transition to film with ease but it doesn’t seem as if she bothered to make one at all. This movie has no ambition other than to entertain, which it happens to do very well.

It’s a good thing this film was as successful as it was because if it wasn’t we’d never see Lloyd directing a full-length feature film again. Actually, we may still not. I’m afraid to know what it says about the musical as a genre that it can be this cluelessly directed and turn out well. If a better, more experienced filmmaker were behind the lens the results would probably be far less satisfying. What Lloyd lacks technically she makes up for in actually understanding what the tone should be. In that sense having the same director as the stage version helped considerably.

While most songs in musicals exist to advance the plot here the plot is treated as an afterthought and an excuse to pack in ABBA’s greatest hits But thankfully the movie makes no apologies for that, nor does it hide its agenda. And of course we get the classics that even non-fans will recognize immediately such as the title track, “Dancing Queen” and “Take a Chance on Me.” In the third act the plot is given up on almost entirely as if everyone in the cast and crew threw their hands up in the air and said, “Screw it! Let’s just do whatever the hell we want.” And it was the right call. I thought Brosnan’s “singing” was hilarious, but that was before I saw him don ABBA’s trademark sequined jumpsuit during the closing credits. Would Tom Cruise do THAT? Brosnan has balls of steel for taking this role and whatever he was paid isn’t nearly enough for the humiliation he gleefully endures. What a pro.

My faith is now restored that movie executives still have brains when in a brilliant and ridiculously brave counter programming strategy they decided to open this against The Dark Knight, the reasoning being that it was the only movie that could compete against it because the target audience was so drastically different. The result was the highest grossing musical of all-time here and the highest grossing MOTION PICTURE OF ALL-TIME in the U.K. (beating Titanic!) Go in with that in mind and you’re destined for disappointment. Approach this knowing it's supposed to be stupid and you're fine. Yet strangely, I can see how it’s done so well financially because it’s just pure 100% fun and is one of the few movies released this year that knows what it wants to do and actually does it.

Making a really good bad film is a lost art that takes a lot of talent, or rather a special kind of lack of it. Someone could make a case for this being on either their best or worst list of the year and be easily able to present a strong argument for both. I’m almost tempted to give this a higher rating but just can’t, at least not publicly. It’s too embarrassing. Mama Mia! definitely ranks among the guiltiest of guilty pleasures.

Lions For Lambs

Director: Robert Redford
Starring: Tom Cruise, Robert Redford, Meryl Streep, Andrew Garfield, Derek Luke, Michael Pena, Peter Berg
Running Time: 91 min.
Rating: R

**1/2 (out of ****)

Of all the politically themed dramas Hollywood has nauseatingly dished out to us in the past year I was dreading Lions For Lambs the most. I figured with big power players like Tom Cruise, Robert Redford and Meryl Streep attached there would be no one there to rein them and they'd make fools of themselves juggling this heavy-handed subject matter. With Cruise producing and Redford directing those fears were only magnified. Much to my surprise, they actually restrain themselves a little and parts of it are actually very good. I'm convinced this is only because it does a better job hiding its blatant one-sided agenda than expected. It almost had me.

The film tries to be a call to action and tell us that as citizens we should be involved and alert to what's going on in even the smallest way possible. It does this by telling three different but interrelated stories concerning The United States' war on terror in the Middle East. One of these stories is thought provoking, another boring, while a third is unintentionally hilarious.

This is the first feature to be released under the Cruise led United Artists banner after he was unceremoniously dumped by Paramount following his Oprah couch jumping debacle and other various public displays of embarrassment a couple of years ago. It's an auspicious start and a very rare misstep for Cruise, whose choices in projects are usually flawless. A special feature on the DVD is a video montage highlighting all the great films released under United Artists, and there are many. This isn't likely to ever be listed among them. But of course you could argue Pieces of April had no place in the montage either but I think we know why that was there.

The silly, on-the-nose title of the film obviously refers to clueless political leaders (lambs) sending brave young men and women (lions) to slaughter overseas for no reason. So going in I really had no right to expect a fair and balanced treatment of the issue. And if anything, this film's commercial failure conclusively proved what we already knew: Audiences like to make their own minds up and don't like being preached to, no matter how slickly it's presented.

The first story involves an upcoming hotshot Republican Senator Jasper Irving (Cruise) who has a new strategy for the war in Afghanistan that he's willing to share only with veteran TV reporter Janine Roth (Streep) in an hour-long exclusive interview in his D.C. office. Janine had written a very flattering piece on the Senator 8 years ago that she's now starting to regret because she realizes this guy is full of hot air and just has his sights set on the White House. Now she has to objectively report on this latest piece of propaganda. The charismatic Senator will say and do anything to raise his profile, even if it means putting soldiers lives at risk.

Two of those soldiers fighting in Afghanistan right now and in immediate danger from this new strategy are college students Arian (Derek Luke) and Ernest (Michael Pena) who were inspired to enlist by a project given by their idealistic professor Dr. Stephen Malley (Redford). Malley is having an hour-long meeting with spoiled, apathetic student Todd Hayes (Andrew Garfield), who's been skipping class and is in danger of failing. Dr. Malley offers him a deal he has to think hard about and that could have a major bearing on his future. He tells him about his two former students, emphasizing that while he may not agree at all with what they did, he respects them for at least doing something.

This is a very talky movie. It clocks in at only 91 minutes but I'm sure if we saw a copy of Matthew Michael Carnahan's script it would be about 180 pages. Peter Berg, who plays a Lieutenant in Afghanistan, has a stretch of dialogue that has to be among the longest I've ever heard. All I could think listening was how it could even be humanly possible for anyone to memorize so many lines. As he just kept going, without even taking a breath, I actually started cracking up. All the war sequences are boring and major reason for that (besides not being filmed particularly well) is the narrative lets us know too late who these two soldiers are and their relationship to the professor. We don't really know why they're there until the last 15 minutes of the film so we don't care. It's a shame too because Luke and Pena give good performances and are terrific later on when we finally get to know who they are and what they stand for. It's a double-edged sword that the war sequences don't take up very much of the film because, while they may not be effective at all, do we really want something so important treated as a throwaway?

The film gives more than enough time to the ludicrous "showdown" between Cruise's Senator and Streep's liberal minded reporter. Cruise slides into the role of the cocky Senator effortlessly and audiences are likely to pick up on the irony of him playing a man who believes everything he says no matter how delusional. It's Tom Cruise playing Tom Cruise playing a slimy senator, but he's entertaining nonetheless. His character is essentially just a Bush stand-in though. It's humorous that in Rendition Meryl Streep was playing a conservative stereotype and now here she is playing a liberal one. She isn't very good at either and needs a new agent desperately because these ill-advised film choices are turning one of our most respected actresses into a joke. My (least) favorite moment with these two has to be when he leaves the room to take a phone call and she looks at his pictures on the wall, which includes a grinning Cruise superimposed into photos with President Bush and Condoleezza Rice. Then there's another photo of Cruise in military garb that looks like it's just a screenshot from the actor's role in Taps. It gets bad laughs, which isn't something you should be going for when handling material like this.

In all fairness, this section of the film does have some interesting ideas about the media and the two actors play off each other very well. If you're like me and believe the media can be blamed for everything you may enjoy this. Unfortunately, the film turns Streep's character into a pulpit preaching political lunatic late in the film when she has it out with her commercially minded boss over the content of her piece. Less would have been more in this scene. And the script actually asks us to accept that her bosses WOULDN'T dare move forward with a smear story on a Republican Senator. Where does she work? Fox News Channel.

Luckily for the film, the story involving Dr. Malley and the student he's trying to inspire is superb. Not only is Redford completely believable as a disillusioned academic, but the debate they have inside his office is spirited and intelligent. Unlike the other two sections of the film, this does really explore both sides of the issue and I loved how the Malley character acknowledged the fallacy of what his former students did, but still supported them. It also brings up an important issue about those Americans who are given the least often end up giving up the most, while those who are actually in a position to give, give nothing. Redford, with just the slightest mannerisms, suggests a whole history for this man that isn't even touched on verbally. The role probably isn't much of a stretch for the liberal actor but he plays it perfectly, proving why he's regarded as one of the best. Carnahan's script actually explores the fact that this guy would spend this much time with one of his students says as much about him and his perceived failings as it does the student.

As this student, Andrew Garfield gives the best performance in the film. He's one of those privileged preppy kids you can't stand who thinks they know everything even though they've experienced nothing. He's right there with Malley and has a wise-ass response for everything. I can't tell you how many people I've encountered just like this kid and Garfield nails it. Why couldn't the entire film been about them? Had the focus of this story been on Malley's relationships with his students and how he, for better or worse, attempted to provoke change in their lives, we really could have had something here. Instead the movie's liberal agenda seeps through in the Cruise/Streep storyline, knocking the wind out of the rest of the film.

As tough as it may be to believe, despite my misgivings of him as a celebrity, I actually like Tom Cruise a lot as an actor and take no delight in any of his projects, as an actor or a producer, failing. Redford is a national treasure as an actor and an accomplished director so it's a shame to see him involved in anything that isn't "A" level. I'd love to ask Cruise why he thought a movie exploring this topic would be a mainstream success when we're depressed enough seeing it on television everyday.

We go to movies to escape real world tragedies like this, not have our noses rubbed in it. I'm not against the topic being explored in a film per se, but if it is, it better inspire deep thought and say something important. Only one of the three stories contained in this came close to doing that. This isn't as shameless and sensationalistic as the awful Rendition but its goal is pretty much the same. In trying to present a meditation on the times we live in, Lions For Lambs succeeds mainly in conveying Hollywood's warped perception of them.