The Program

Director: Stephen Frears
Starring: Ben Foster, Chris O' Dowd, Guillaume Canet, Jesse Plemons, Lee Pace, Denis Menochet, Dustin Hoffman
Running Time: 103 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Here's a first. A biopic in which hardly a single aspect of the subject's personal life is addressed. But when your subject is embattled cyclist Lance Armstrong, you'd figure it makes sense that normal just don't apply, as they certainly didn't for him. As if the pre-release promotional art featuring Armstrong and giant syringe with the tagline, "Winning Was In His Blood," wasn't enough of a hint that Stephen Frears' The Program would be heavily weighed toward exposing the doping scandal that toppled an American sports icon, there are many instances in the film where the person himself fades into the background as performance enhancing drugs take center stage.

A quick glimpse at the list of Tour de France winners immediately reveals the seven blank spaces where Armstrong's name was, drawing so much sensationalistic attention to itself you start wondering if that punishment accomplished the opposite of its goal. Second only to O.J. Simpson as the most disgraced sports figure of recent times, you almost get the impression from watching this film that he'd bask in any kind of attention he could get. And that's why it's so cruelly ironic that hardly anyone knows this Lance Armstrong film exists or was even released, albeit briefly on V.O.D and theatrically earlier in the year.

Frears seems to present an argument that the man himself never really existed before that scandal and hasn't existed on any level since. It's tough to tell how much of that approach is deliberate or the result of crucial editing room cuts that excised what could have been deeper insights into his personality. Then again, what personality? He wanted to win at all costs and that's it. This a cold, clinical framing of events that's adequate enough because the detached style feels so oddly appropriate in this case. And they got the best actor they possibly could in both physical resemblance and temperment to play Lance, emotionlessly reflecting back at us our worst suspicions. It should be seen for that performance, which probably didn't get a chance to go to the places it otherwise would in a traditional sports biopic. In a way, that may have been for the best. Any portrayal of Armstrong as something other than a blank slate of deception would likely ring false.

Based on Sunday Times sports writer David Walsh's 2012 book, Seven Deadly Sins: My Pursuit of Lance Armstrong, the film covers Walsh's (Chris O' Dowd) struggle to expose Armstrong's (Ben Foster) use of banned substances in gaining an illegal advantage that led to his seven Tour de France wins. In tracing a link between the cyclist and notoriously controversial Italian Michele Ferrari (Guillaume Canet), Walsh opens the floodgates in eventually revealing the Armstrong-led US Postal Team's involvement in the most sophisticated doping program in professional sports.

While serving as a role model and ambassador for cancer survivors worldwide with his Livestrong foundation, Armstrong was deceiving not only the public, but the UCI governing body, which brushed off Walsh's valid claim while turning a blind eye to obvious signs of cheating in order to bolster cycling's bottomline. And in expecting teammates like promising newcomer Floyd Landis (Jesse Plemons) to risk their careers for the sake of protecting his reputation, Armstrong finally meets his match in the determined Walsh, who's gathering the necessary witnesses and evidence to finally let the world know their icon is a fraud.

The details absent from the film might be more revealing of its approach than what is. There's no information on Armstrong's childhood, what spurned his decision to become a cyclist or the collapse of his marriage. Screenwriter John Hodge seems to be working on the assumption it doesn't matter, and sadly, he's probably right. Armstrong's life as a public figure really began in the early 90's and the most damning information provided is he really wasn't all that good of a cyclist at the start of his career, making Walsh's eventual claims sting that much more. An early, cordial interview between the two is a highlight, setting the table for what follows.

The public and media's refusal to see what was right in front of their faces the entire time spoke to their desire to have a hero, and according to the film, no one knew that more than Armstrong himself.  In what pretty much plays as a synchronized summary of events that occasionally comes off as a full-on reenactment, the most controversial revelation is that his 1996 cancer diagnosis created a monster. The very idea he came so close to dying sickened him more than any medical treatment could, and it's here where Ben Foster's compulsively intense performance (he actually took PED's for the role) is off to the races, hooked to wires and wearing a Vader-esque oxygen mask to begin his evolution into this racing cyborg.

Bringing himself back from the dead to become the best cyclist in the world was how the media framed the story, and Foster plays with this righteous indignation that no one or no thing stops Lance Armstrong. Therein lies the birth of "the program" as Dr. Ferrari transforms the cyclist (and eventually his teammates) into his personal lab rats and we find out exactly how Lance evaded and manipulated the drug testing. One of the recurring mantras is his repeating, "I have never tested positive," as if in an effort to convince himself. Foster's delivery of it and his acting choices when visiting juvenile cancer patients give off just the subtlest pangs of guilt and briefest glimpse of what vaguely resembles a conscience.  How he and his agent Bill Stapleton (Lee Pace) raised his profile and reputation with philanthropic work and conned SCA Promotions founder Bob Hamman (Dustin Hoffman) out of millions are almost minor indiscretions compared to how he screwed over Floyd Landis in the film's most compelling sub-plot.

Played really well by Jesse Plemons as the cycling prodigy from Amish country, Pennsylvania, Landis puts it all on the line for Lance, only to discover what happens to people Armstrong no longer has use for. It's the final piece of the puzzle for Dave Walsh and when the walls start closing in on Armstrong, Foster plays him even angrier, more entitled and arrogant, as if anyone could have the nerve to expose his lies. With an untouchable attitude, the thought that all this could come crashing down doesn't even occur to this competitive athlete Foster portrays as a delusional narcissist.

As big a stretch as it seems, anyone who saw the recent O.J.: Made in America documentary could make reasonable comparisons, obviously not to the severity of crimes, but to their subject's unwavering sense of entitlement and lack of self-awareness. The argument that drug abuse was so rampant in cycling that Armstrong was vilified merely for obtaining the best results and perfecting a system isn't presented in a film where a syringe is credited with all the work. Ultimately though, it was the deceit that unraveled him.

This isn't one of Frears' stronger efforts visually, as some location shots look downright awful due to budgetary constraints and it's probably too short, not nearly expansive enough in depth for the issue covered. Presented chronologically, it moves too fast to ever really get a strong sense of time, place, or the public's reaction. This is a Cliffs Notes version of what happened, so while it's kind of dramatically flat in that respect, much of what's on screen works largely due to Foster's performance.

There's a scene at the peak of Armstrong's career where his teammates are speculating which actor could play him in a feature film version of his life. And yes, as strange as it now seems, Matt Damon and Jake Gyllenhaal were both once attached to what would have been at the time a far different movie. An inspirational one. Instead he gets Foster, but it's far from a downgrade as Armstrong's indiscretions send it down a darker alley this actor proves even more equipped to handle. Whatever its issues, The Program is still a better film than many feel the person deserves.

Rampart

Director: Oren Moverman
Starring: Woody Harrelson, Ice Cube, Ned Beatty, Ben Foster, Anne Heche, Sigourney Weaver, Robin Wright, Brie Larson, Steve Buscemi, Cynthia Nixon, Jon Bernthal
Running Time: 108 min.
Rating: R

★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

I spent half the running time of Rampart wondering when the main character would bite the dust and the other half wondering why I didn't want to see that happen more. It's a frustrating film with isolated flashes of greatness and an electrifying lead performance, starting off as a focused character study, before unraveling as an overplotted mess. It's a compelling mess to be sure, but goes in a bunch of different directions when it really just needs to be going in one. The result is an effort that occasionally impresses but ends up being muddled by bureaucratic and political nonsense, too often tying the film up in as much red tape as its main character.

It's Los Angeles circa 1999 and LAPD officer Dan Brown (Woody Harrelson), is a 24-year veteran of the Rampart division, which is recently reeling from scandal. He's also a racist, mysogynistic, homophobic, corrupt, womanizer with anger management issues serious enough to have earned the nickname, "Date Rape Dan" (for when he allegedly murdered a date rapist in cold blood). Now with video footage surfacing of him assaulting a suspect within an inch of his life and his department under a microscope, his troubled career is called into question by assistant district attorney Joan Confrey (Sigourney Weaver) and Internal affairs investigator Kyle Timkins (Ice Cube) who both are just trying to avoid further embarrassment.  He could have been set up, but that point's almost irrelevant when you consider he'd do something like this anyway, and has. His home life isn't much better, as he's living with his two spurned ex-wives (Anne Heche and Cynthia Nixon) who are sisters. With each he shares a daughter, the eldest of which (Brie Larson) can't stand him. Plagued by scandal and personal demons, Dan's reached the breaking point and must now confront his failings head on or risk losing his job, and possibly his life and family.

Early on, it appears this is going to be a brutal character study of a protagonist who's actually the antagonist. The opening scenes set that stage as Dan verbally abuses a female officer and roughs up a suspect. A portrait of a racist cop out of control with seemingly no conscience or remorse for his actions brings to mind 1992's Bad Lieutenant or its recent New Orleans-based remake starring Nic Cage. But then the film seems to back off that. Then a little more. Then a lot. By about the midway point, the screenplay gets so lost in its corruption plot (which never pays off in a meaningful way), that we almost forget who the story is really about. Worse yet, we keep hearing what a terrible human being this guy is but there just isn't enough evidence presented on screen to support it. He's supposedly this monstrous deadbeat dad, yet most of the scenes he shares with his family aren't nearly as destructive as you'd expect given how much of a ticking time bomb he is on the job. Most of these home scenes work though, at least until they're interrupted by the machinations of what feels too much like a police procedural.

Though the movie frequently seems to lose its grip its the main character, Harrelson doesn't. He can pretty much do anything and they should have let him, rather than just shoehorn the actor into the kind of formula cop movie we've seen far too often. Moverman previously directed him to a supporting actor nomination in 2009's war film, The Messenger, a far more focused effort that knew exactly what it was and where to go. But what's stranger is how he and crime novelist James Elroy's script seems to be in complete conflict with the directorial style and execution. It's shot in almost a frenetic, hand held, docudrama-like way that wants to bring us onto the streets of L.A during the 90's, yet the screenplay is far more conventional than that in how it incorporates familiar elements of dirty cop movies.

Robin Wright plays a suspicious defense attorney Dan starts sleeping with, and while it's a substantial supporting role well played by the great actress, I'm glad I'm not being quizzed on its purpose.  The legendary Ned Beatty also appears as a retired dirty cop who still has his hands in everything in the city, making the most of his intense scenes with Harrelson. A bearded Ben Foster is wasted as a wheelchair-bound homeless man while Steve Buscemi cameos. And doing a complete 180 from her recent turn in 21 Jump Street, an almost unrecognizable Brie Larson goes head to head with Harrelson in the emotional family scenes as his rebellious daughter, but even that sub-plot's impact seems diluted amidst everything else. And Heche and Nixon's sibling ex-wives spend most of the movie admonishing Dan or threatening to kick him out the house.    

It's always a shame when a movie that should be a home run falters, especially when it comes at the expense of skillful performances that deserved top notch material. If any of this feels like a gripping character study it's due to Harrelson, who provides enough gritty realism to convince us we're watching the movie we really wanted to see instead of the one onscreen. Officer Dan Brown isn't the kind of character you can just plug into a formula plot and expect a thrilling result. He's difficult, requiring a challenging script. You'd figure an independently financed production would have the leeway to take some risks, so it's especially disappointing to see a small film playing it so safe with a hot-button issue like police brutality. On the acting front Rampart definitely delivers, but most of its failings stem from spoon-feeding us more plot than was even necessary.

The Messenger

Director: Oren Moverman
Starring: Ben Foster, Woody Harrelson, Samantha Morton, Jena Malone, Yaya DaCosta, Steve Buscemi
Running Time: 113 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

The Messenger presents itself as a film exploring the war in Iraq without a political agenda and from a completely objective viewpoint. It even takes a similar character-driven approach as The Hurt Locker in choosing to narrow its focus. Whereas The Hurt Locker followed a bomb diffusion unit into the line of duty, this film trails two men assigned to the Army's Casualty Notification service at home, given the thankless task of alerting soldiers' families of their deaths. It's obvious this scenario greatly increases the chance for emotional button pushing and there's no mistaking that The Messenger very clearly has an agenda, no matter how well hidden (and it's pretty well hidden).

Can an impartial film ever be released on this topic? Doesn't just deciding to bring a project like this to the screen imply that that some kind of stance has already been taken? Possibly, but this one did as good a job as possible in making me not think about that because I was so absorbed in each of the notification scenarios, as difficult as they were to sit through. These scenes of family members reacting (each so differently) to the news and witnessing the circumstances surrounding them is compulsively watchable in a fascinating, yet disturbing way. It's at least an aspect of the war we haven't seen depicted yet and had the entire film focused just on those it would have been perfect, but unfortunately the script loses its way a little in the third act by trying to pile too much on. Still, thanks to mostly good writing and two excellent performances, it's one of the the stronger efforts dealing with the effects of war at home.

The "Messenger" of the title is Staff Sergeant Will Montgomery (Ben Foster), who after returning home injured from Iraq, is partnered with the abrasive Captain Tony Stone (Best Supporting Actor Nominee Woody Harrelson) and must learn the ropes of this thankless task. Angry and traumatized from his experiences in Iraq, Will doesn't jump out as the ideal candidate to be informing families that their loved one died in combat but it's actually for that reason that he's the ideal candidate. The most fascinating aspect of the job is how it takes a certain level of emotional detachment and strength of character to deliver the news, as well as handle the inevitably unpredictable reaction to it. There's a specific protocol that has to be followed that seems cold and contradicts everything you'd want to do in that situation, but in hindsight may be the most effective method of relaying the tragic information. The very qualities we'd expect would make someone good at this (like sensitivity) are actually a recipe for disaster and a few of those disasters are narrowly avoided during Will's initiation. We find out what happens when the "N.O.K." (next of kin) isn't home but someone else is, why it matters where the messengers park their car and that using the words "died" or "killed" is mandatory.

These scenes are the ultimate test for an actors playing the next of kin, as well as for Foster and Harrelson. If you really think about, what scenario could possibly be a bigger acting challenge than this? As a father who has the exact nightmare of a reaction we've been fearing since the start of the film, the great Steve Buscemi reaffirms why he's one of the best actors around today in a span of barely three minutes. But it's widow Olivia Pitterson (Samantha Morton) who ends up being the most difficult recipient to watch, mainly because she almost appears to be taking the news well (or as well as can be) compared to everyone else. Of course, "well" only means differently and that's what initially draws Will to her. At least, we think. One of the smartest aspects of the script is how we're not given a clear-cut explanation for the attraction and are left to ponder for ourselves why these two damaged people have forged such a connection and whether it's morally right that they have. It helps that Morton has never been better than in this, with her casting an against-type choice you wish studios would have the guts to make more often. The relationship really doesn't go anywhere and maybe the whole point of it is that it can't. Still, it doesn't generate much excitement and results in long takes that give the film a familiarly self-concious "indie" feel.

As the running time wore on I was never bored but found myself wishing the whole film centered on just the notification scenes. Everything involving Tony's alcoholism and womanizing and Will's emotional scarring from the war just isn't as interesting or truthful as what came before. The acting and writing is way too strong for it to play as cliche but it doesn't get to that real, raw place the earlier scenes did. In showing how victims' families react to the news I gained insight I didn't have but when the focus shifted to Will and Tony it almost felt like the script was forcing insight on me I had already gotten (sometimes poorly in other films) and didn't need any more of. A sub-plot involving the distance that grows between Will and his engaged ex-girlfriend, Kelly (Jena Malone) could have been more of that but isn't because Malone is an actress capable of doing a lot with minimal screen time and it results in the film's most unintentionally truthful (if totally sensationalistic) scene involving a laughable toast by her clueless fiancee.

Foster has already proven in films like Alpha Dog that he can command the screen with ferocity but now he shows us he can do the exact opposite and give a muted, more quietly intense performance in a character driven drama and still hold the audience's attention with just as much precision. This performance seals his standing as one of his generation's most promising actors and had it not been such a competitive year in the lead actor category he would have definitely found himself among the five nominees. Harrelson (strangely resembling and sometimes channeling a young Robert Duvall) is just as strong in the most fully realized dramatic role of his career and an impressive close to a year that also saw him give a great comedic turn in Zombieland. Another less-skilled actor could have easily made this character a walking stereotype.

First-time director Oren Moverman's script may have issues but the two actors share such great chemistry that there are long stretches where you hardly notice. Ironically, had it taken a procedural approach in focusing on the notifications all the way through (much like The Hurt Locker did with bomb diffusion) and developed the drama organically from it, the film would have played even better. But wanting to like the movie more than I did isn't exactly a backhanded compliment. It's at least intelligently written and performed, showing a needed restraint that's been lacking in some of the awful, heavy-handed issue pieces this genre has produced the past few years. That this, The Hurt Locker and Brothers were all released in the same year and each took a different take on the war without resorting to the usual shameless tactics can only be seen as an encouraging sign. The Messenger would easily rank second best among them.

Alpha Dog

Director: Nick Cassavetes
Starring: Emile Hirsch, Justin Timberlake, Anton Yelchin, Bruce Willis, Sharon Stone, Ben Foster, Shawn Hatosy, Olivia Wilde, Dominique Swain, Amanda Seyfried
Running Time: 117 min.
Rating: R

*** (out of ****)

Yes, Justin Timberlake can act. Going into Alpha Dog that seemed to be the question on everyone's mind, myself included. He's not asked to do anything too demanding, but toward the end he gets to do some emotionally heavy lifting and pulls it all off really well. Is he just playing himself? Maybe, but every actor brings who they are to a role, or at least some version of it. He's one of the highlights of the film and when it ended I was curious what he'd be capable of if given even heftier material to work with. For a while I thought this film would supply that, but it doesn't take itself seriously enough which is fine because it's just not that kind of movie anyway. Alpha Dog is instead a stylishly made guilty pleasure that's a lot of fun. It's cinematic trash and I mean that in the nicest way possible.

The story had the potential to be a little more, but as we head toward the somewhat unsatisfying conclusion it becomes clear writer and director Nick Cassavettes isn't interested in that. We start to really care about these kids, but he pulls back at just the wrong time to bombard us with visual tricks and gimmicks, including a very ill advised cosmetic one involving a major actress that comes late in the film. Still, it's a blast and anyone looking to be entertained won't be let down.

Alpha Dog is based on the true story of Jesse James Hollywood a notorious drug dealer who became one of the youngest men ever to appear on the F.B.I.'s most wanted list. In this film we find out how. Here, all the names are changed to protect the innocent, or not so innocent, as Jesse James becomes Johnny Truelove. He's played well by Emile Hirsch, in a performance some people will undoubtedly have problems with. I didn't. He has a huge posse which includes but isn't limited to his right hand man Frankie Ballenbacher (Timberlake), kiss ass Elvis Schmidt (Eddie Vedder look alike Shawn Hatosy) and his hot girlfriend Angela Holden (The O.C's Olivia Wilde). When Johnny has a major falling out with one of his premiere customers, loose cannon Jake Mazursky (an explosive Ben Foster), seemingly by accident Johnny and Frankie kidnap Jake's 15 year-old-brother Zack (Anton Yelchin) and shove him in the back of their van. They hold him for ransom even though they never really make any ransom demands and have no idea what they're doing.

The irony of this "kidnapping" is it's the best thing to ever happen to the shy, introverted Zack who's smothered daily by his mother Olivia (Sharon Stone) and isn't even allowed to leave the front stoop of their house. With these guys he finally fits in as he's exposed to drinking, drugs, three ways and basically everything else California teens do on a daily basis that he can't. What's neat about the film is that it exposes the parents as being every bit as irresponsible and stupid as their kids as they have sex in front of them and grow pot in their backyards.

Watch when Foster's character storms into his dad's house high out of his mind demanding money and dad can't even bring himself to say no. Symbolic of this epidemic is Johnny's father, notorious mob boss Sonny Truelove (Bruce Willis in what amounts to a cameo role) and his grandfather Cosmo (the great Harry Dean Stanton) who've spent their lives cheering on his behavior until now. Now things have gotten too heavy even for them. With kids going around all day playing Scarface, real life was bound to catch up with them at some point. Everyone's in over their heads.

What ends up being the surprisingly touching relationship at the center of the film is the one between young Zack and Frankie, who's been put in charge by Johnny to look after the kid. Resistant at first, Frankie grows to like him and becomes kind of his de facto big brother. Zack idolizes him and because we get to see all these messed up kids through Zack's eyes it actually kind of humanizes them and the movie. It helps that Yelchin gives a quiet, unassuming, and likeable performance. He actually comes across as a little brother you'd want to have. Timberlake also really steps up in this third act, suggesting the film was going places deeper than I initially thought. Unfortunately though, it doesn't.

The decision Johnny makes as to what should happen to this kid, while without question morally wrong, also makes little sense. How anyone, even a kid this wreckless and stupid, could possibly think that this is the best way out of this situation for everyone involved (especially him) is unfathomable. I realize this is based on a true story, but that doesn't make what the characters do in this movie any more believable or make it less disappointing. Cassavettes had the information and it was his responsibility to present it in a way onscreen that would ring true. He'll probably be excused by most on this one since this is how it supposedly went down in real life, but he can't be excused for what follows.

Just after the most dramatic and emotionally gut wrenching moment in the film we're treated to a Sharon Stone scene that hits every wrong note imaginable. It would have been better placed in The Nutty Professor or Norbit. I was literally rolling on the floor laughing. It's a shame too because Stone does good work in the film and didn't deserve to be humiliated like this. Without giving too much away, let's just say Cassavetes could have gotten the effect he wanted out of the scene without resorting to this trickery. That it stands out as campy and unintentionally hilarious in a film that includes a cameo from Growing Pains' Alan Thicke is quite an accomplishment.

Even though it's Timberlake who steals the show, Emile Hirsch continues his string of strong performances with his work here, even if in the minds of many he doesn't exactly look the part. I think that was point and it's even questioned during the film why everyone fears and is frightened by this scrawny little kid. He looks young but Hirsch carries himself in such a way that he can pull it off believably, and does. In many ways his Johnny Truelove is very similar to skateboarder Jay Adams, whom he portrayed in 2005's The Lords of Dogtown. Both are egomaniacs desperate for respect and attention and afraid they'll be exposed as frauds. Truelove is even more a product of his own twisted environment.

Had this movie dug deeper and really explored the issues it brought up, Ben Foster's strung-out performance as Jake probably would have gotten more respect and possibly awards consideration. As it stands though, it instead makes for an entertaining and often times frighteningly hilarious diversion. He has a fight scene that's so over-the-top you can't help but cheer, and there were many times during the film where I wondered if Foster was really on something. That's how believable he is as an out of control addict. I should mention there are also a lot of girls in this movie. A lot. So many that it's hard for any of them to really make a lasting impression. Wilde seemed like she was just there for decoration, while Domique Swain gets to yell and shriek most of the time. The only two you'll remember (and for good reason) are Amanda Seyfried and Amber Heard, who break-in young Zack during a memorable pool scene.

Of course the easy joke here is that John Cassavetes is probably rolling over in his grave right now at the film his son Nick directed. I don't think that's fair. Every filmmmaker has their own strengths and weaknesses and while the elder Cassavetes' strengths may have resided in intimate character portraits, it's clear between this, John Q. and The Notebook that Nick's talent lies in mainstream popcorn audience pleasers. There's nothing wrong with that. He shouldn't be expected to follow in his legendary father's footsteps, nor would it benefit him to.

There were times during the film where I wished Cassavetes would just tell the story in a meaningful way instead of hiding behind fat suits, split screen technology and title cards telling us the name and number of witnesses as they appear onscreen. For some reason I expected the latter to pay off in some way at the end of the film but it never really went anywhere. It's just a gimmick. In any event, this movie does now hold the infamous honor of coming in fourth all-time for the amount of "F-bombs" dropped in a motion picture. That's a telling fact. Alpha Dog could have been more, but it couldn't have possibly been any more fun.