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.

Straw Dogs (2011)

 

Director: Rod Lurie
Starring: James Marsden, Kate Bosworth, Alexander Skarsgard, James Woods, Dominic Purcell, Laz Alonso, Willa Holland,Walton Goggins, Anson Mount
Running Time: 110 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

I cringe whenever I'm about to see a remake of a classic film I'm very familiar with or have great affection for. It's almost impossible to watch without comparing it, sometimes scene-by-scene, to the original. Such a comparison almost always ends unfavorably for the remake. Fortunately or unfortunately, in the case of Rod Lurie's re-imagining of Sam Peckinpah's controversial 1971 ultraviolent classic Straw Dogs, I'm extremely familiar with the original, but not altogether opposed to the idea of remaking it. Following its release late last year, one of the major complaints from critics and audiences alike was that this was merely a modernization, following exactly the same plot lines and exploring the same themes as its predecessor. Which begs the question: If the original's a classic and Lurie hardly changed a thing, how could it be a failure? And therein lies the inherent contradiction with remakes. As many as there are each year, it seems we still haven't found a way to come to terms with their purpose. This version does make some little changes, in addition to a major thematic adjustment most missed. Whereas the original clearly argues in favor of an animal instinct residing inside all men, this take is more interested in exploring society's definition of manhood. Who's to blame for the events that eventually unfold is also more ambiguous, while the one famously ambiguous scene from the original is made clear as day. Lurie's presentation isn't as subtle, but it's tension-filled, and definitely not the horror "torture porn" it was strangely advertised as.

When screenwriter David Sumner (James Marsden) and his TV actress wife Amy (Kate Bosworth) return to her hometown of Blackwater, Mississippi to rebuild her recently deceased father's house. Their arrival brings Amy's ex-boyfriend Charlie (Alexander Skarsgard) and his three friends (Rhys Coiro, Billy Lush, Drew Powell) out of the woodwork and in an attempt to extend an olive branch, David hires them to fix the roof of the barn. With his manner of speak and dress, the well-to-do David immediately sticks out like a sore thumb in town, unable to fit in and at times displaying a condescending attitude toward Blackwater's customs. Perhaps out of jealousy that he's Amy husband or maybe just merely the fact he doesn't like him, Charlie and his gang begin subtly taunting and harassing both of them. As it escalates, David's insistence at avoiding any type of confrontation drives a rift in their relationship with Amy instigating Charlie and his gang to prove a point, putting both their lives in danger and forcing him to step up, or maybe down, to their level.

As much as the commercials have tried to convince you otherwise, this isn't your routine black and white, good vs. evil thriller. And like the original, it isn't a typical horror film despite many scenes providing more than a fair share of psychological terror. There's definitely a slow burn toward the climax, for which Lurie should be commended as I'm sure the pressure was on from the studio to reboot this as some kind of relentless gore fest. Changing the location from England to the deep South (replacing the British working class with Gulf Coast rednecks) was an inspired decision that ends up benefiting the mood and atmosphere, while also bringing the culture clash uncomfortably closer to home for American audiences. The couple's Hollywood occupations don't earn points for subversion or subtly, but it does seem to create an even greater rift between David and and the townspeople he seems to look down on. Or does he? What can easily be construed as condescension could almost equally be interpreted as ignorance (such as in a key scene when he walks out during church service) or just simply not fitting in and overcompensating to cover for it.

The power of the story (adapted from Gordon Williams novel, The Siege of Trencher's Farm) has always been it's realism and ability to put the viewer in the middle of a moral circumstance that could easily occur. At worst, David's a wuss willing to do just about anything to avoid a conflict, even when the situation absolutely necessitates it. Arguably his hesitance makes the ordeal worse, letting the problem fester until finally exploding. At best, he's a normal and responsible guy who could easily be defended for showing patience and trying to work issues out with something other than his fists. According to Amy, whatever he's doing isn't enough and when David's response to her is to "wear a bra" when the gang's leering at her, the gloves come off as she intentionally baits them with her body. The infamous rape scene is presented less ambiguously and as an overt act of violence, mostly doing away with the notion that Amy could have "enjoyed" it. But given her actions up to that point and the animalistic nature of the story, discerning viewers couldn't be blamed for still at least considering the possibility.

Physically, James Marsden is miscast, seeming on the surface too much of a pretty boy to fill Dustin Hoffman's nerdy mathmatician shoes from the original. Marsden solves that problem by wisely not attempting to and offering up a completely different take on the character. He need not necessarily be believable as a full-blown geek, but instead a  passive-aggressive people pleaser who living in his own bubble. Marsden does a great job fleshing that out, while at the same time making you feel empathy for the no-win situation David finds himself in, which isn't all his doing. Bosworth's task isn't as daunting in terms of the shoes she must fill, but she's as perfect a fit as for this as she wasn't for Lois Lane, giving one of her best performances as a woman taking power of her sexuality while at the same time pressured into subverting it. And as for the more emotionally disturbing scenes, she's more than up for it. With a southern drawl and seductive smirk, True Blood's Alexander Skarsgard really steals the show as Charlie, smoothly underplaying everything to the point where it's almost difficult not to like the guy until all hell breaks loose. Even then, he never resorts to playing him as a full blown psychopath, keeping it cool all the way through. It's to his credit that lines between good and evil seem so blurred. That I have problems even remembering the actor who originated the role proves Skarsgard must have done something right.

A major sub-plot involving the town's hotheaded former football coach Tom Heddon (James Woods) and his teen daughter Janice's (Willa Holland) infatuation with mentally handicapped man Jeremy (Dominic Purcell)  is over-the-top to say the least. It's definitely wasn't this insane in the original, with Purcell oddly resembling Steve Carell on steroids and a terrifying Woods devouring each scene as if it were his last day acting day on Earth. Had nothing else in this movie worked (which it thankfully does), this would still be worth seeing for Wood's performance, if only just to say you saw it and survived. Ironically enough, it most resembles his oscar-nominated turn as white supremacist Byron De La Beckwith in 1996's Ghosts of Mississippi, at least in terms of outright hostility.  His daughter's clearly acting out to stick it to him, but the tragic consequences of that are unintended. This and the main story seemed to merge better in the original despite Lurie deviating very little from the source.

The eventual climax is thrilling, if a little too slickly filmed. It's only here where it becomes apparent we're watching a modern re-interpretation. The rest of it exists in some kind of bizarre 70's time warp, which isn't such a bad thing. The other little changes are justifiable as well, even if the jury's still out as to whether modernizing a film improves upon on it by simply making the material more timely. It all still feels a little routine, if powerful. But that the eventual violence still feels shocking and unsettling in this era proves that it was the context and ideas, not the violence itself, that made the original so unnerving. It's recreated here to chilling effect, with the original and remake both somehow coming out of this looking better as a result.