20th Century Women

Director: Mike Mills
Starring: Annette Bening, Greta Gerwig, Elle Fanning, Lucas Jade Zumann, Billy Crudup, Alia Shawkat
Running Time: 118 min.
Rating: R

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

"I don't know if we ever figure our lives out and the people who help you, they might not be who you thought or wanted. They might just be the people who show up."

If you had told me in advance that one of the very best films of the past year was titled 20th Century Women, I'd probably laugh. Because, let's face it, many things pop into your head upon hearing or reading a title like that. None of them are favorable, so I can only say I went into it primarily because of the favorable reviews, promising cast and an Original Screenplay Oscar nomination few know it even received. On paper, there are certainly worse choices out there, but that title. Is it a chick flick? Romantic comedy? A historical drama? A period piece?  After actually viewing, or rather experiencing it, and realizing it's none of those things at all, I've determined its admittedly artsy and somewhat pretentious title, while a nightmare for marketing purposes, is nearly as perfect as the film itself. Not to mention it's a real chore trying to come up with a better alternative.

It's difficult to fully articulate what 20th Century Women is "about" since it doesn't have what we're trained to recognize as a conventional movie plot or narrative. It's more of a memory of a specific time and place its characters will never have an opportunity to visit again. Yes, it's a coming-of-age film, on a surface level invoking comparisons to Almost Famous, American Beauty, The Wonder Years, and even a dash of The Ice Storm. And yet it's still kind of the opposite of those, as those comparisons fail to properly convey what Mike Mills creates, or rather maybe recreates here, in simultaneously depicting a watershed year in his adolescence while paying tribute to the life of his late mother without judgment or sentimentality. The title implies a focus on women, and there definitely is that, but what it's really about this young boy becoming a man in a world surrounded by women.

Despite its screenplay nomination, this isn't a "writer's movie" because it's doing too many other things exceptionally well to pigeonhole it. Flashbacks, voiceover narration, title cards, newsreel footage are so seamlessly infused into the narrative it's a small miracle we even know it's there, presenting them in ways both invisible and revolutionary. And then there's the music, which can't be discussed as merely a separate element of the film, but as the foundation on which it's built.
Name a character and chances are you'd likely be able associate them with a song since music isn't just on the soundtrack, but discussed, picked apart and analyzed at many points as a reflection of their lives. And none of this feels forced in any way, instead organically mirroring the generation gap at the story's core.

Santa Barbara, California. 1979. 15-year-old Jamie Fields (Lucas Jade Zumann) lives with his divorced mother, Dorothea (Annette Bening) in a boarding house that she runs. Her tenants include Abbie (Greta Gerwig), a punk-obsessed photographer from New York being treated for cervical cancer and William (Billy Crudup), a carpenter and mechanic who once spent time on a hippie commune. A frequent visitor is Jamie's best friend, Julie (Elle Fanning), a 17 year-old who climbs through his bedroom window to spend the night but won't have sex with him because she thinks it'll ruin their friendship.

Confused by Jamie's non-conformist behavior and finding it increasingly hard to connect with her teen son on any level, Dorothea recruits Abbie and Julie to help unofficially raise him. In doing that, she gets more than she bargained for, learning more about her son and even herself than was intended. And perhaps in the end, maybe learning nothing at all, as their complicated mother-son bond fades into the past and becomes a memory, stored alongside the time they spent with these wildly different personalities living under the same roof.

When the title card indicating the setting and year appears on screen and we see a kid coming up over the hills on a skateboard as composer Ryan Neill's ambient, Brian Eno-inspired 70's score kicks in, you just know to expect something special. And no, this isn't one of those indies full of quirky characters doing zany things. While they all have their idiosyncrasies, they're often steeped in a painful realism, its specificity carrying a universality that should ring true to anyone, regardless of age or era.

Having grown up during the Great Depression and even flown planes in her youth,  the no-nonsense, matter-of-fact Dorothea rarely pulls any punches in her frank assessments of both her tenants and son, even if that brutal honesty rarely extends to her own shortcomings. She had Jamie when she was into her forties and is now faced with the unenviable task of raising a teen boy alone after her unseen husband walked out. That one of the first images we see is his car catching fire in a parking lot speaks volumes about that exit and its repercussions.

Due to her age, the distance in taste and values between Dorothea and Jamie is probably greater than it otherwise would be, so without a male figure in his life, it makes sense in her mind to lean on the two other women in the house to school him on how to treat women. Of course, it's also kind of a terrible idea for obvious reasons, least among the fact that Abbie and Julie don't have themselves completely worked out yet either.  Mills lets us know these characters by framing them within a specific context, their backstories occasionally dispensed via emotionally detached voiceovers from them or maybe even another character, or sometimes documentary-style footage depicting the era through which they've lived.

Books like Sisterhood is Powerful and historical events such as Jimmy Carter's famous "Crisis of Confidence" make their presence known, maybe without warning, but certainly not without purpose. Everything here has a purpose, and with all the tricks Mills has up his sleeve, his greatest one is using all these devices to create this sinking feeling of the passage of time. And as specific as all these people are to the place and period in which they reside, their stay there feels fleeting. It's sad and scary, the magnitude of how short not really felt until the film's final minutes, which emotionally hits like a oncoming train.

Played by Greta Gerwig in a brilliant performance very much unlike the optimistic, free-spirit she's played so naturally in various indies through the years, Abbie's a little deeper, darker and rough around the edges, but unquestionably has her heart in the right place. With her Bowie-like hair she serves as Talking Heads' fan Jamie's entrance into the punk music and their scenes together very much recall the even younger protagonist's discovery of his sister's record collection in Almost Famous, only without the warm, fuzzy feelings accompanying it and substituting The Raincoats for Simon and Garfunkel. But it's through her medical crisis that she and Jamie form their strongest bond, despite Dorothea's eventual objections of Abbie schooling him on the feminist movement, to which she can't relate to at all. Or if she can, came from a generation where putting a label on it would seem ridiculous.

Considering how laid back and flaky Dorothea seems at times, she's often stuck-up, judgy and unpredictably offended at certain things that mark her not as an inconsistently written character, but a richly developed one full contradictions that make her more real and relatable. Bening has to keep flipping that switch between empathy and shattering directness draped in comic sarcasm.  Few others could do it, and while I was never much on board with all the complaining about Bening's continued lack of an Oscar, that she missed out on even just a nomination for this, her most complex work, feels like the cruelest snub yet. Just watch the scene when Jamie accurately sums his mother up by reading a book excerpt and how Bening handles Dorothea's reaction. Cold and true to life, but not entirely unfair. And maybe right.

A less complicated character, but compelling just the same, is Elle Fanning's Julie, who has Jamie befuddled at why her recent promiscuity seems to exclude him, despite them sharing a bed every night. The daughter of a psychiatrist, she thinks she has it all figured out at 17 and isn't shy about providing a free diagnosis for everyone. Of course, this all masks the fact that she doesn't know much of anything and her outdated view of masculinity and advice to Jamie seems so outdated even by 70's standards that it's actually come back around again. Of everyone, she carried the most risk of coming off as one-dimensional given her age and purpose in the story for the protagonist, or so it seems. But created by Mills as a composite of various friends and ex-girlfriends from his youth, and delicately brought to life by Fanning (who owns 2016 with this and the Neon Demon) , she becomes more than just the memory or unrequited crush of a 15-year-old boy. Or more accurately, she's exactly that and all the pain that comes with it, which is why this all works so well.

Initially, it would seem we're meant to root for Jamie and somehow see Julie as a villain for withholding sex, but the movie's too smart for such simplistic shading. They're actually using each other to some extent, with him allowing this to go on with expectations of more, even as she uses him as a therapist's couch for all her problems knowing full well his feelings run deeper. But as one character bluntly tells Jamie, it's his job to put an end to it. She's not presented as a narrative construct who will "rescue" him from the doldrums of adolescence as would occur in a lesser script, but instead as a frustratingly real, unpredictable and not entirely likable girl he'll never end up with. 

It's easy to snicker at the casting of Billy Crudup as William given the nature of his iconic role in Almost Famous, only this character isn't there as a friend or role model to Jamie. It's made clear pretty early on that Dorothea discounts him as a male figure who could connect with her son, mainly because he seems like such a space cadet. But like most of the other characters he defies type or description, with Mills depicting him as kind of a male slut who women use and promptly throw away without getting to know him. It's neat gender reversal, but like everyone else, he's desperate for any kind of human connection, while also amounting to both more and less than he appears on the surface. Unsurprisingly, he's most in tune with older generational outcast Dorothea and the scene where they attempt to "understand" the music Jamie listens to is one of the film's finest.

The late 70's probably wouldn't top many fans or critics' lists as one of the greatest eras in music, but what Mills gets is that your favorite is whatever era you grew up in or associate with your strongest memories. And for what it's worth, he makes as good a case as any for this period with the song choices he makes, which are entirely reflective of not just the characters, but the tone and mood of the picture right up until the closing minutes when two songs are juxtaposed from entirely different eras you'd never expect to hear on the same soundtrack. And that right there is the movie, as different people with unique personalities and at various stages in life all randomly converge in this time and place. The saddest part is that they may never see each other again, as is often the case with the most important, influential people in our lives. They're here, make their impact and then, just as quickly, they're gone.

The semi-autobiographical events Mills recounts all took place the year I was born and it's kind of eye-opening since no one ever tends to know much about the events of their birth year. It's often just a set of numbers with little context since all the major milestones occur within the following decade and beyond. He assigns meaning to that number and to objects and possessions, alerting us to what a turning point in time this was for those who lived through it. From then on, things changed for them and couldn't possibly return to how they were. Sometimes the most important important questions to ask when a movie concludes is whether you'll miss the characters when they're gone and whether you care what happens to them after the credits roll. We do actually find out what their futures hold beyond that, even as we're still willing to give anything for an extra minute with all of them.
                                            

Watchmen

Director: Zack Snyder
Starring: Patrick Wilson, Jackie Earle Haley, Malin Akerman, Billy Crudup, Matthew Goode, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Carla Gugino
Running Time: 162 min.
Rating: R

★★★ 1/2 (out of ★★★★)

For months I've been kidding people that I planned on reading Alan Moore's seminal 1986 graphic novel, "Watchmen" before viewing the film. I say kidding because anyone who knows me knew I had no plans to do such a thing. I never read the book BEFORE seeing the film on which its based, wanting to always go in completely fresh. It's a policy I'd implement even if I weren't reviewing movies and one that's always seemed to work well, so there's little reason to change it. The last thing I want to to do is turn into one of those whiners who complain that "the book was better." And when you consider just how many movies I see and how many of them are based on novels, it's safe to assume that my perception and possible enjoyment of these films would be substantially altered (if not ruined) by reading the books they're adapted from.

I've never been more pleased with this policy than after seeing Zack Snyder's take on Watchmen, especially given all the controversy its adaptation has caused. This supposedly sacred text, long considered "the Citizen Kane of comics," has always been labeled more or less unfilmable and when the shocking news broke that it would be attempted, irate fanboys were up in arms. So isn't it ironic that Snyder went out and made a movie that would only appeal to those who thought it shouldn't have been made? Then it's released and he's publicly dragged through the mud for being too slavishly true to the source material. Poor guy can't win. Having not read it I can't comment on how true it is to the novel (though I've heard it's VERY) but it does play like an insane amount of effort was put into capturing the look and visuals, even if deep ideas don't always come along for the ride.

In its over two and a half hour theatrical version it's a sprawling, sometimes brilliant mess as frustrating as it is unforgettable, without making the slightest effort to be accessible to casual viewers unfamiliar with the novel. And that's the double-edged sword of a "faithful" adaptation. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. Yet in spite of all its attempts to alienate me I strangely became absorbed in it all anyway. For what its worth, the film drips in stylistic cool, is unmatched in visuals and production design and earns its R rating. None of this is a surprise considering it comes from the director of 300, who isn't exactly known for his subtlety.

There are definitely glimpses of a masterpiece in here and for the first 10 minutes it sure seems destined to be one. But there's still this nagging feeling (made much more evident in the director's cut than the theatrical one) that something more emotionally resonant could have been unearthed with tighter, more focused direction. Even someone completely unaware of the source could tell this was a very tough work to translate to the screen and Snyder deserves credit for at least having the guts to try, as divisive as the results may have been.

The film opens in an alternate 1985 where Richard Nixon is serving his fifth term as President and the threat of war with the Soviet Union is a very likely possibility as the "Doomsday Clock" counts down toward Armageddon. We're introduced to a group of superhero vigilantes known as the Watchmen who have been outlawed by Nixon since 1977, their costumes retired and identities kept under wraps. Only two still remain under government employ: Dr. Manhattan (Billy Crudup), formerly scientist Tom Osterman, created as a result of a nuclear accident and possessing the power to control the universe. And the brash Edward Blake/the Comedian (Jeffrey Dean Morgan) whose gruesome murder in the film's opening scene sets the plot's wheels in motion.

The exiled, ink blot masked Rorschach (a brilliant Jackie Earle Haley) suspects foul play and recruits the very reluctant Dan Dreiberg/Nite Owl (Patrick Wilson) back into action. Joining them is Dr. Manhattan's assistant and girlfriend, Laurie Jupiter/Silk Spectre II (Malin Akerman), who faces the thankless challenge of living up to the legacy of her superhero mother, the original Silk Spectre (Carla Gugino in retro pinup mode). The final member to again suit up is Adrian Veidt/Ozymandias, the "smartest man in the world," who revealed his identity to the public, using his name to make billions funding scientific research. Rorschach is determined to uncover what he believes is not only a massive conspiracy to wipe out the group, but something with more disastrous results for the entire human race.

It was inevitable that with the success of The Dark Knight we'd be seeing darker superhero films and it's a credit to Snyder's direction that as messy as this is it doesn't suffer as badly as you'd expect in direct comparison to Nolan's film. A lot of that could probably be chalked up to the fact that Moore's story (or however much of it survived in David Hayter's script) is just so bizarre and original that it's forced to be judged on its own terms. Like The Dark Knight it asks the intriguing question of what would happen if superheroes really existed. What would they look like? What would they do? How would they affect society? But unlike Nolan's film, the tone sometimes comes across as campy, while still finding a way to entrench itself in a kind of pseudo self-seriousness. What really needs to be said about a film that features a ship ejaculating? Snyder really struggles to effectively balance this tone from time to time because the material is just so challenging and he isn't quite there as a filmmaker yet. But he's close.

The big ideas that are present are front and center in the opening minutes of the film with one of the best title sequences I've ever seen. Unforgettably set to Bob Dylan's "The Times They Are A Changin," the sequence somehow manages to be both movingly poignant and hilarious as the Watchmen and their superhero forebearers, the Minutemen, are shown via fake newsreel footage shaping the events of this alternate history. Give the studio credit for biting the bullet to pay for the use of the entire song. A fortune for sure, but worth every penny. It marks the first of many classic rock songs on Snyder's playlist (which also includes Hendrix, Simon & Garfunkel and Leonard Cohen) that will sometimes distractingly invade upon the picture at the strangest of times. At least he has good taste. Unfortunately, this groundbreaking opening sequence also sets up unrealistic expectations for what follows.

The film's structure is muddled and sometimes confusing, jumping back and forth between Rorschach's murder mystery investigation and attempts to draw the Watchmen out of retirement as we're given flashbacks and all their backstories. The device feels like something that could have been directly lifted from the novel and if it isn't I'll stand corrected. Through these flashbacks, some substantially more involving than others, we learn that they're less superheroes than deeply flawed, psychologically damaged people who wear costumes and are working through some major issues.

None except maybe two could even be considered the slightest bit likable with the worst of all being the film's victim, the cynical Comedian, a depraved rapist and murderer whose bleak outlook on the world isn't completely unlike Ledger's Joker. In his view, society created him and will have to live with the consequences. What little sympathy we initially felt upon his demise is quickly wiped away after we actually get to know the guy. Jeffrey Dean Morgan is terrifying and funny in a role that's larger in importance than screen time. While the characters are unsympathetic and difficult to like I did care what happened to them, and much of that can be chalked up to the other strong performances, one of which is possibly award worthy.

Jackie Earle Haley should give his agent a raise for having this be the big role to follow his Oscar nominated comeback in Little Children from a couple of years ago. Under the mask he's effectively scary as Rorschach but it's toward the middle section of the film when he's locked up and it's taken off, exposing Walter Kovacs, that we're given insight into the sociopath who wore it. And that's when the brilliant ferocity of Haley's performance as really takes over in string of memorable scenes. Billy Crudup, best known for playing a "Golden God" in another film is a blue one here and aided by some great CGI brings a unique calmness and low-key tranquility to Dr. Manhattan, who's essentially a prisoner of his own powers and we maybe see more of than we'd like. The most intriguing flashbacks of the film are to his life before the accident.

A nearly unrecognizable Malin Akerman has been cited by many as the weak link as Silk Spectre II and while she's unproven as an actress and this part was probably more than she was ready for, I thought she fared as well as could be expected. Those claiming she's so dreadful probably all read the novel and carry delusions of grandeur in terms of what they think the character should have been. Although it is kind of funny to think that the actress whose most notable work until now was in the awful Farrelly Brothers comedy The Heartbreak Kid beat out all others to land such an iconic role. But it fits, possibly because I haven't read the novel I have problems picturing another actress bringing more to the part (or the costume for that matter).

The relationship between her character and Patrick Wilson's Nite Owl is handled well with the always reliable, underrated Wilson proving once again that he's pretty much capable of anything, this time playing a paunchy, out shape dork afraid to come out of superhero retirement. It kind of reminded me how Clark Kent should be played, if he was to be played again. He's both literally and figuratively impotent with Dan being nothing until he puts on that costume. Wilson portrays that reluctant transformation perfectly.

On the flip side, Matthew Goode projects very little in the way of charisma or intelligence as Ozmandias in the film's flattest performance. He just has no presence at all in a role that seems to have been written especially to convey that. It's the one part that feels like it was miscast and should have been filled with a bigger star capable of coming across as a larger than life personality. It starts to become an even bigger issue for obvious reasons toward the third act of the picture, resulting in an ending that comes across messier than it should. This, and an embarrassing caricature of Richard Nixon (realizing our worst fears of how stupidly he could be portrayed onscreen) are the two biggest faults of the film.

Snyder would have just been better off not showing the Nixon character or shooting the actor from behind since his physical presence is inconsequential to the story anyway. Actor Robert Wisden is less to blame than all the latex he's buried under which makes you wonder why they just didn't put a Nixon Halloween mask over his head and call it a day. Where's Frank Langella when you need him? But the funniest thing about this unintentionally hilarious depiction of Nixon is that it does somehow strangely fit the bizarre tone of the film.

When Watchmen ended I had no idea what I thought of it, which isn't rare for me. Usually when something like that occurs a second viewing is required. Except that second look came in the form of the over 3 hour director's cut which makes for a great point of comparison or a terrible one, depending on your perspective. I'm leaning toward the latter. Unaware of its gargantuan running time beforehand I was hoping this version would not only clear up questions I had about the narrative, but also enhance the overall experience as many director's cuts have done in the past. Instead it accomplished the exact opposite, diminishing much of the film's power.

Usually, I have nothing against director's cuts (my all-time favorite film is one) but there's just no restraint shown at all here. The seemingly minor flaws in the theatrical version are magnified and a story that didn't have the tightest focus to begin with became much more muddled with useless, excess breathing room. The additional 24 minutes ADD NOTHING. But beyond that, they actually take away from what was already there by piling on scenes that would only interest someone deeply familiar with the source material. In other words, drooling fanboys and no one else. Did I really need to see Hollis Mason's death? Of course not. It's a total waste of time. Those who read the novel are probably gasping at that statement but that's exactly the point: You read the novel. Many others didn't and a movie has to be made for them also.

While the theatrical cut finds a good balance in appealing to fans and newbies alike the extended version flies off the rails with self-indulgence, feeling like it was storyboarded to death to cram every little detail in. We get more of bizarro Nixon and a bigger dose of Rorschach than is necessary, especially in regards to his sometimes over-explanatory voice-over narration. The decision to use that in any version is a questionable call, but it seems worse in the director's cut, recalling that infamous Blade Runner voice-over debacle. Scenes that were wisely cut short initially extend well past their saturation point, which sometimes makes for a trying viewing experience.

NO MOTION PICTURE SHOULD BE 186 MINUTES LONG. It's cruel and unusual punishment, regardless of how dense the material it was adapted from is. It reeks of bloated egotism on the part of the director. And I'll think twice now before siding with a filmmaker who complains he wasn't allowed to "fully realize" his vision...IN OVER TWO AND A HALF HOURS! It's great to want to please fans of the novel and do the story justice but sometimes less should be more. Instead of locking Snyder and his over 3 hour cut in a cell and throwing away the key, Warner Bros. stupidly gave in to his con job by actually giving this unnecessary version a limited theatrical release earlier in the year. I've yet to revisit the original version since but after viewing the director's cut but it'll be interesting to see how it plays now.

Watchmen's release was accompanied with the tagline: "FROM THE VISIONARY DIRECTOR OF 300." That effort was disposable war porn but here Snyder comes one step closer to earning that "visionary" label. Nothing about this is forgettable or lacks vision, despite carrying that similar "style over substance" vibe. Luckily for Snyder I'm reviewing the FAR SUPERIOR theatrical cut which is only fair considering that's how it was released. And if you think I've talked about both just to avoid forming a solid conclusive opinion on the film, you're completely right. But I do know I'd see it again in a heartbeat and can't stop pondering the story or the characters, making me believe this could be one of those times where those telling me "the book is better" may be right.

Alan Moore took his name off the film just as he did V For Vendetta before it and you can't blame him. It's his baby and he has every reason to be protective. But after that, there's nothing he can do to control our reactions to it. I didn't even read the novel and can tell this makes for a fascinating study on adaptation and how hard it is to please everyone, even if you've stayed as true as possible to the source as possible. That Watchmen leads to conversations and analysis like that is the highest compliment it can get and proves why every work, regardless of stature, should be fair game for cinematic interpretation. Just don't expect me to read the book first.