Maestro

Director: Bradley Cooper
Starring: Carey Mulligan, Bradley Cooper, Matt Bomer, Vincenzo Amato, Greg Hildreth, Michael Urie, Brian Klugman, Nick Blaemire, Mallory Portnoy, Sarah Silverman, Zachary Booth, Maya Hawke, Gideon Glick, Josh Hamilton
Running Time: 129 min.
Rating: R

**The Following Review Contains Major Plot Details For 'Maestro' **

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

Mocked by some for being calculated Oscar bait, actor/director Bradley Cooper's long gestating dream project covering the life of legendary composer Leonard Bernstein does share certain similarities with traditionally familiar biopics. But in condensing the essence of this towering, troubled figure into barely over two hours, Maestro also takes some big swings that will probably rattle purists only interested in Bernstein's process as an artist. This focuses more on the moments, as Cooper and co-writer Josh Singer cleverly forego the nuts and bolts of the man's career to focus entirely on his rocky marriage.

Spanning decades, Cooper's selective in what's covered, displaying an incredible grasp of time and place when exploring the challenges of being caught in the orbit of a conflicted, complicated talent who never feels satisfied. After a deliberate start, it only gets better, building momentum before landing a devastatingly painful and realistic final blow. There's a Kane-like quality to how this all unfolds that extends past its monochrome opening, as Cooper makes adventurous creative choices both in front of and behind the camera. Held up by Matthew Libatique's astounding cinematography, the makeup, costuming and production design, the film's a marvel to look at, and for all the jokes about Cooper's self serious intentions, it's the results onscreen that speak loudest.

It's 1943 when 25-year-old assistant conductor of the New York Philharmonic Leonard Bernstein (Cooper) fills in for an ill Bruno Walter, with the performance earning strong enough accolades to launch the young talent to considerable fame. While still in a casual relationship with clarinetist David Oppenheim (Matt Bomer), he soon meets aspiring actress Felicia Montealagre (Mulligan) at a party, eventually leaving him to date and marry her. 

Together the couple have three children, with Leonard composing several successful Broadway musicals as Felicia's stage career flourishes. With the 60's wearing on, his affairs with men and dependency on drugs and alcohol become impossible for her to ignore, taking a toll on their marriage and tearing the family apart. But after finally rediscovering his love for Felicia and his work, unimaginable tragedy strikes, altering the remainder of Leonard's life.  

The story kicks off in black and white with an energetic opening sequence that sees Leonard jumping out of bed and sprinting to Carnegie Hall as the strains of his On the Waterfront score blast over the soundtrack. It grabs you right away, moving a mile a minute before settling into a slightly more predictable rhythm when he first meets Felicia. The first of the film's visually spectacular sequences comes with a rehearsal for On the Town where he all but announces his bisexuality to Felicia, even as it's clear she's fallen too hard to take the hint. Headstrong as Felicia is, her naivete lies in believing her future husband's vices won't matter if she can just keep him in line. 

Cooper plants the seeds early that Lenny's a man constantly craving the presence of others, to the point he can't even be in a bathroom without the door open. For him, the solitary nature of composing is a struggle compared to the satisfaction he gets conducting, which comfortably places him at the center of attention. Part egomaniac and insecure basket case, Cooper conveys these contradictions while also physically capturing Bernstein in eerily accurate ways, such as his nasally vocal inflection. As for the prosthetic nose, it's a lot of fuss about something that would hardly get a second look if not for all the manufactured controversy. 

Kazu Hiro and his makeup team deserve credit for flawlessly aging Cooper into the 70-year-old Bernstein who appears in the bookending scenes. And true to the period, get ready to see enough cigarette smoking for the film to justify its own Surgeon General's warning, which is almost comical considering how the notoriously safe and family friendly Steven Spielberg co-produced. 

The shift from black-and-white to 60's and 70's Technicolor accompanies the dramatic momentum when Lenny and Felicia's marriage crashes amidst his addictions and infidelity. Mulligan's sensational in this section, portraying the pain of a woman unable to continue standing on the sidelines as he flaunts his escapades in her face. When they eventually have it out in a Thanksgiving screaming match at their New York City Dakota apartment, their argument ends with a brilliantly surreal cameo from a cartoon icon that speaks to Cooper's directorial talents and his understanding of the absurdity found in everyday life. 

That showdown and Lenny lying straight to college-aged daughter Jamie's (Maya Hawke) face about his infidelities hit in powerfully different ways, but his conducting of Mahler's second symphony at England's Ely Cathedral is the picture's pinnacle. It's a euphoric and moving six-minute sequence that sees Cooper enthrallingly recreate the maestro's sweaty 1973 performance with tireless physicality, hypnotizing us as the sensation of pure cinema courses through our veins.

If it's hard to buy the claim this is Felicia's story when she's rarely given a scene without him, Carey Mulligan still makes a great case for her being his equal, adding depth and dimension to a thoughtfully written part. That it comes in support of someone else is fine since Lenny's supposed to suck up all the air in the room as she laments his inability to change, or rather a refusal to. The script doesn't evade Lenny's moral shortcomings, but gives him the redemption of being there when needed most, as Mulligan owns the last act with her heartbreaking portrayal. The grim cancer diagnosis is unflinchingly difficult to watch, with the actress continuing to display the character's same grit and stubbornness, even as she fades away in her family's arms. 

There's no mistaking this is a showcase for Cooper, but it's also his career best, touching on more than a few elements that run parallel to the star's own career. Directing this as if he really has something to prove, it's an intriguing quasi-prequel to 2022's Tár, which centered around another embattled conductor, albeit a fictional one. And now her idolization of Bernstein strangely makes even more sense after this. If that film had the market cornered on provoking debate, Maestro is all about feelings and vibes, giving viewers a peek into the tormented genius whose life seemed to flash before everyone's eyes.                                                                               

Saltburn

Director: Emerald Fennell
Starring: Barry Keoghan, Jacob Elordi, Rosamund Pike, Richard E. Grant, Alison Oliver, Archie Medekwe, Carey Mulligan, Paul Rhys, Ewan Michell, Sadie Soverall, Dorothy Atkinson, Shaun Dooley
Running Time: 131 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

Emerald Fennell's Saltburn is one of those "blank check" movies where a studio is so bowled over by a director's early success that they've granted them the keys to the kingdom for a follow-up. It's a creative luxury many have used to make their ambitious dream projects that wouldn't usually see the light of day, polarizing critics and audiences alike. Now after 2020's Promising Young Woman, Fennel gets her shot, but deservedly so, since the last thing we need is for big swings like this to disappear as artists are shackled and second guessed.

With a script more interested in obsession than social commentary, its "eat the rich" tale combines elements of The Talented Mr. Ripley, A Clockwork Orange, Brideshead Revisited, and more unfortunately, the fourth season of Netflix's You. Intentionally lacking in depth, viewer enjoyment mostly depends on whether you feel the disgusting shocks are justified by a pitch black satire that starts promisingly enough before flying off the rails. Multiple bodily fluids are ingested and exchanged, as it bombastically hurls toward its destination, making for one of the weirder cases of style over substance.

It's 2006 and scholarship student Oliver Quick (Barry Keoghan) is starting his freshman year at Oxford University, awkwardly attempting to fit in before befriending wealthy and charismatic upperclassman Felix Catton (Jacob Elordi). Sympathetic to his troubled upbringing, the popular Felix takes Oliver under his wing, accepting him into his circle of friends. Reeling from the news of his father's sudden death, Oliver accepts Felix's invitation to stay the summer at the Catton family's Saltburn estate to relax. While there, he meets Felix's eccentric parents Sir James (Richard E. Grant) and Lady Elspeth (Rosamund Pike), his unpredictable sister Venetia (Alison Oliver) and Elspeth's frequent houseguest Pamela (Carey Mulligan). 

Also joining them is Felix's cousin and Oliver's Oxford nemesis Farleigh (Archie Madekwe), a longtime fixture at the mansion who's becoming increasingly skeptical of the new guest's intentions. But Elspeth takes an immediate liking to Oliver, as he's quickly intoxicated by this opulent lifestyle surrounding him. Feeling truly accepted for the first time, his fascination with Felix escalates, along with the Catton family's bizarre behavior. The question isn't when Oliver will leave Saltburn, but whether he can, or even wants to.

You can sense Oliver's fortunes transform overnight after Felix's endorsement, almost immediately establishing him as popular by association. Felix casts such a spell over everyone that just being in his orbit gives Oliver a respectability he couldn't ever achieve on his own. The film's at its best when exploring this massive power imbalance that informs the essence of their parasitic friendship. And the two actors play those notes to perfection, with Keoghan's nerdy, withdrawn, deer in headlights protagonist thirsting for validation, even as we brace ourselves for the possibility he's being used. 

If Keoghan excels as this desperately awkward outsider, Elordi radiates an effortless cool factor that helps explain why so many are high on his potential as a major screen star. His performance remains remarkably consistent when the screenplay zigs and zags, subverting expectations of what was originally assumed about both characters. But once the action shifts to Saltburn and Felix's dysfunctional family enters the equation, the story heads into more polarizing territory.

Nothing that unfolds is particularly "offensive," just skeevy and gross, which could be the purpose. Even while inconsistently straddling the line between dark comedy and thriller, the production design of this intimidating estate (complete with a Shining-like hedge maze) is a sight to behold. Gorgeously lensed with some really impressive tracking shots, sets and costuming, it's nearly impossible to criticize on a technical level. The supporting performances from Grant, Oliver and Madekwe also make their marks, but it's Pike's deliciously droll Elspeth that leaves the largest. And Carey Mulligan is unrecognizable in her hilariously credited "Poor Dear" Pamela cameo, looking like she just escaped the set of a Pieces of April sequel.  

The real danger isn't this family or the estate itself, but what it represents for Oliver, whose compulsions know no bounds. And within these walls Felix is sent crashing back down to earth, the charming aristocrat he portrays on campus giving way to a scared, spoiled boy crying out for attention. Fennell needlessly holds viewers' hands at the end, overexplaining details that should be obvious to anyone paying attention. But the closing moments are a doozy, as the film gleefully basks in its own hedonistic excess with a final shot that wouldn't have seemed out of place in American Psycho.  

Overindulgent but never boring, there's just no telling how huge a disaster this could have been with a someone else at the helm. Leaving just enough of an impression to transcend the insanity, it's hard not to be impressed and repulsed by what Fennell does, knowing she'll come out of this a bolder filmmaker than she was going in. While way inferior to her previous effort, Saltburn's far from an atrocity, its admitted faults rarely stemming from a lack of vision.

She Said

Director: Maria Schrader
Starring: Carey Mulligan, Zoe Kazan, Patricia Clarkson, Andre Braugher, Jennifer Ehle, Lola Peticrew, Samantha Morton, Molly Windsor, Ashley Judd, Zach Grenier, Peter Friedman, Tom Pelphrey, Angela Yeoh, Keilly McQuail, Mike Houston, James Austin Johnson, Gwyneth Paltrow 
Running Time: 129 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Maria Schrader's She Said doesn't give any false illusions as to what it is or pretend to be some kind of escape from reality. This much is clear in an early scene from 2016 when we hear Donald Trump (voiced by SNL's James Austin Johnson) screaming at a reporter about the leaked Access Hollywood tape. The fallout from that would be minimal, if nonexistent, serving as a reminder that those in power say what they want only until the public decides they've heard enough. But this isn't about him, at least not directly. Rather, it's the jumping off point that emboldens those investigating Harvey Weinstein, whose sexual abuses stand in a category of its own. 

The film depicts how Weinstein bullied and silenced victims into staying quiet for decades, with a lot of help along the way. And while it's easy to see how he got away with it in this context, what's most ironic about that Trump scene is how it might might be the film's only sensationalistic moment. In showing very little, Schrader tells a lot, with a tone similar to classic investigative journalism procedurals like All The President's Men and Spotlight. Based on the 2019 book widely credited for igniting the #MeToo movement, it's full of uncomfortable, disturbing testimonials from Weinstein victims that's direct and no-nonsense enough to be mistaken for a documentary. 

Schrader keeps things moving while Screenwriter Rebecca Lenkiewicz takes a practical, fact-based approach, both making as formidable a team as the two leads driving this story. It may not be everyone's idea of edge-of-your-seat suspense and there are only so many different ways to hear about Weinstein removing his bathrobe and demanding a massage, but it happened. So, as sickeningly repetitive as it is to hear, the survivors lived this, and listening to how it permanently altered them provides plenty of unexpected tension. For those who appreciate films that get into the nuts and bolts of print journalism, there's a lot to respect, as the most salacious of stories is presented in a sensibly straightforward style that doesn't pull punches.

It's 2017 when New York Times reporter Jodi Kantor (Zoe Kazan) receives a tip from actress Rose McGowen (voiced by Keilly McQuail) regarding an alleged sexual assault she experienced at the hands of Miramax head Harvey Weinstein when she was 23. After speaking with other prominent actresses who refuse to be named for fear of career ramifications, Kantor enlists the help of fellow Times reporter Megan Twohey (Carey Mulligan). Together, they uncover a trail of allegations, hush money payments and settlements linked to Weinstein over the years, but face an uphill battle, with many of the women having signed NDAs that prevent them from talking. 

Digging deeper with each new interview with former employees and assistants, an alarming pattern emerges, along with the possibility of a massive cover-up that extends far beyond the Miramax offices and into the legal realm itself. With the full support of Times editors Dean Baquet (Andre Braugher) and Rebecca Corbett (Patricia Clarkson), Kanto and Twohey move forward despite mounting pressure threats against their sources. Undeterred, they work to get these women heard and expose Weinstein's crimes, whatever the cost.

As strong as Mulligan and Kazan are separately in their scenes, they're even better together, entirely believable as reporters with differing personalities and tactics sharing the same goal. Twohey is the  more seasoned and aggressive of the two, reflected by her cynical, somewhat hardened nature. In contrast, Kantor is a deer in headlights, struggling to persuade sources to talk to her and go on the record. But as the investigation wears on, we see how their styles compliment each other, especially when circumstances call for one to rein the other in.

Kantor's empathy and likability proves to be an asset in dealing with the victims while Twohey's strength lies in navigating legal obstacles that derailed all previous attempts to nail Weinstein. Both actresses hit these notes perfectly, especially Mulligan whose character is all business, even while emotionally collapsing under the weight post-partum depression. She convincingly plays Twohey as if uncovering the truth is not only a mission for justice, but an escape that could make her feel full again. It's obvious how personal this is for both, with Schrader trusting the actresses to show it and leave the telling to the victims. Balancing this with the strategizing taking place within the Times' offices, she impressively showcases the processes that surround an investigative undertaking of this magnitude. 

In devastating turns, Samantha Morton and Jennifer Ehle play ex Weinstein assistants, one of whom sacrifices her career to protect a friend while the other's traumatic sexual assault is dredged up at the worst possible moment. As powerful flashbacks show their days at Miramax, both are now forced to contemplate the potential ramifications of coming forward and reopening deep emotional wounds. But Schrader avoids tastelessly recreating the assaults, instead detailing the events that led to them and its lasting psychological impact.

Even if we only hear Weinstein (Mike Houston) yelling over the phone and briefly catch sight of this loud brute at the end, it's still more than enough for him to make the worst possible impression. Braugher is particularly good in his scenes handling him, as he and Clarkson give probably the two most overlooked performances, credible every step of the way as practical but fair editors. And while famous Weinstein victim Gwyneth Paltrow does make a vocal cameo as herself, Ashley Judd appears full-on, essentially retracing the actual steps she took to come forward and expose him. 

Schrader clears all these creative hurdles in an unfussy manner since anything less could cause a serious, real-life topic to come across as the type of tabloid smut this film's rallying against. Still, it's impressive how thorough the script is in presenting exactly what happened and how. She Said finds a comfortable middle ground, neither a condescending lesson for viewers already familiar with journalism's inner workings or a bore to those who aren't. That we know the end result of Weinstein's trail of terror hardly dampers the proceedings, only further establishing it as a morality tale better suited to the big screen than most suspected.     

The Dig

Director: Simon Stone
Starring: Carey Mulligan, Ralph Fiennes, Lily James, Johnny Flynn, Ben Chaplin, Ken Stott, Archie Barnes, Monica Dolan
Running Time: 112 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

While watching Simon Stone's biographical British drama The Dig, it's not hard at all to believe it's based on a true story. It tells us as much in the opening minutes, and even while creative liberties are  taken, there's something about the delivery that feels particularly authentic, regardless of names and dates. Some may view that as a turn-off, or sign they're going to endure a stuffy period piece lacking the momentum or excitement to grab their attention, but it's nearly impossible not to get caught up in the characters' enthusiasm. Because they care so much about the title adventure and we ultimately grow invested in what happens to them, it succeeds, harkening back to a time where mid-range adult dramas were a big draw simply due to quality alone. 

With pitch perfect performances, memorable cinematography from Mike Eley and a criminally overlooked Stefan Gregory score, it's almost as if this was released in the wrong era. Despite having been nominated for four BAFTA's, it's still hard to argue that if this came out in the mid to late 90's it would be screening next to The English Patient, Secrets and Lies or Waking Ned Devine at the local arthouse multiplex. And it would probably be among the five Best Picture nominees, while likely racking up additional acting nods for its cast. 

Being that it's instead 2021, a prestige film like this now just basically drops on Netflix with very little promotion. And that's not entirely a criticism considering it may not have otherwise seen the light of day at all given the current film climate. Nor is this some passionate defense of The Dig as an unheralded masterpiece because, on the whole, it's just fine. But boy is it ever just about the most comfortable thing you could hope to land on when scrolling through your queue. It's like wrapping yourself in a warm blanket for almost two hours, without worry the filmmaker will suddenly start making wrongheaded decisions or take the material to places it can't or shouldn't go. Given the circumstances, that's an achievement.

On the eve of World War II in 1939, Suffolk, England landowner Edith Pretty (Carey Mulligan) hires local excavator and archaeologist Basil Brown (Ralph Fiennes) to dig at the burial mounds at her estate in Sutton Hoo after both agree on a fair wage. With his former employers attempting to get him to abandon the project for work they've deemed more important, Brown and his assistants soon unearth the remnants of a ship, with him suggesting it could be the possible burial site of someone of high class or great nobility.

As Brown forms a fatherly bond with Edith's imaginative young son Robert (Archie Barnes) and her cousin Rory (Johnny Flynn) joins the dig, noted archaeologist Charles Phillips (Ken Stott) crashes the site, determined to wrestle control from Edith and Brown. Taking over with his own team, including a relatively inexperienced Peggy Pigott (Lily James), a major discovery is made, forcing Edith to make some important choices, even as her health rapidly begins to decline.

Managing to walk the the extemely thin line of delivering exactly what's expected while having just enough surprises up its sleeve, Moira Buffini's screenplay (adapted from John Preston's 2007 novel), stays tightly focused on this escavation's historical implications, as well as the personal ones for those directly involved. After an initial feeling out process between Edith and Brown, an early accident at the site ends up framing their friendship and motivations from that point forward. After that, she quickly realizes he's the right man for this job, regardless of the lack of respect he receives from his archaeological peers, mostly due to ignorance and jealousy. 

Having lost her husband and trying to raise a son while struggling with an undisclosed condition, Edith turns to Brown as kind of a surrogate companion. With him ignoring letters from his own wife, May (Monica Dolan) and spending nearly all of his time with Edith and young Robert, we start wondering where this relationship's going. But the movie's smarter than that. May couldn't be any more supportive of the bond he's formed with them, despite her feeling he's overworked. It's a nice reversal of expectations while also managing to be completely logical. And it's through Edith and Brown's shared discovery that we realize just how damaged she is, with this undertaking clearly giving her the only glimmer of hope and personal sense of purpose she's had in years. It feels right that this is as far as it will go for them, especially considering the film already has a romantic sub-plot that works exceptionally well.

Following her Oscar-nominated turn in Promising Young Woman, it could have been jarring to see Mulligan back doing the period pieces her against type role in that film proved to be a welcome respite from. But it instead only serves to further showcase her versatility in tackling a part that was originally intended for an older actress, more closely matching the fifty-something Edith Pretty was at the time. Fortunately, none of that matters in relation to the narrative and few could have played this as well as Mulligan does. Edith's no pushover, and even as the pressure mounts and the actress effectively conveys a marked physical deterioration in this woman's appearance and demeanor, her loyalty to son Robert and Brown perservere, partially stemming perhaps from regrets over an abandoned archaelogical career. 

Similarly, Fiennes scenes opposite Mulligan and the boy really resonate, with Brown charging forward despite being undermined at every turn by beaurocrats wanting a piece of his discovery. Ken Stott plays the film's biggest blowhard, Phillips, whose lack of knowledge is matched only by his elitist snobbery and frequently incorrect deductions about the project. Lily James appears about an hour in but quickly makes up for lost time as Peggy, dragged along by Phillips and husband Stuart (Ben Chaplin) only because her small stature won't disrupt the site. It's the first of many microagressions she endures from the men on the project, most notably her husband. While having a star at James' level show up so deep into the story is a curious decision, she conveys everything we need to know about this nervous,  bespectacled woman in only a matter of minutes. 

Trapped in a loveless marriage, it's clear where things are going for Peggy as she falls for Edith's cosuin Rory and must battle all these insecurities in the face of this epiphany that she needs to leave her controlling, apathetic husband. With Peggy's feelings slowly bubbling under the surface until finally breaking through. when that moment comes, it's surprising just how emotionally resonant it is, largely due to James' invaluable performance. Seemingly, out of nowhere, she becomes as essential to the film's success as Mulligan's or Fiennes, with the sub-plot also achieving its goal of stirring something in Mulligan's character as she comes to terms with her own mortality. In Peggy, Edith finds a younger counterpart she can mentor and perhaps encourage to take the risks she failed to, with Buffini's script presenting much of that as subtext since the two actresses don't share more than a couple of scenes together. Stone's direction compliments that with restraint, gliding along effortlessly in not telling us how to think or feel and just letting these actors take us there.

It's a relief to know it's possible for screen adaptations to make adjustments a true story that make sense and have those decisions actually enhance the source material. They unquestionably shifted details around, changed characters and added events, but all of these choices were good ones that made for a far better experience than a straight re-telling would. Of course, the irony is that some may still find this too dry, but for fans of these kinds of humanistic dramas, it hits all the right notes.      

That The Dig could be watched repeatedly becomes that much more of a compliment when you realize it doesn't do anything necessarily special that sets it apart from past releases of a similar ilk. But from start to finish, it's just an absorbing story, solidly made and intelligently told. Sometimes that's enough, as certain unremarkable qualities that would cause it to blend in with the pack ten or twenty years ago only serve to make it stand out that much more today.

Promising Young Woman

Director: Emerald Fennell
Starring: Carey Mulligan, Bo Burnham, Alison Brie, Clancy Brown, Jennifer Coolidge, Laverne Cox, Chris Lowell, Connie Britton, Adam Brody, Max Greenfield, Christopher Mintz-Plasse, Sam Richardson, Alfred Molina, Molly Shannon
Running Time: 113 min.
Rating: R 

★★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

To say that Emerald Fennell's revenge thriller Promising Young Woman is about someone who does bad things for the right reasons would feel like engaging in the same double talk excuse-making that plagues the "nice guy" would-be rapists its title character terrorizes. A more accurate assessment of one the year's absolute best and most thought-provoking films would describe it as being about accountability. It scares us to death into being better, holding its mirror up to a society assuming they've done enough and can't be bothered by the fact that they really haven't done anything at all. 

Squashing any preconceived notions about an issue we thought we've examined every facet of over the past two years, it throws those prejudices back in our faces with nihilistic, venomous glee. A surface-level reading the film's antagonistic protagonist would have some mistaking her for kind of a female Dexter, replacing retribution for serial killers with rapists. And yet this tramples over that buzzy oversimplification to deliver a story that cuts much deeper, complete with a pitch black satirical slant. 

While damaged, this isn't a character who murders or maims, with all questions concerning her potentially fragile mental state circling back to a single trauma from the past that feeds an obsessive motivation. Despite a plot built around such an explosive character, the film's greatest trick is that this isn't necessarily a study in her behavior, but rather those she targets. It's all about them, and ultimately us. Or really anyone who, if maybe not directly the perpetrator, could have found themselves in a situation where laughing things off or ignoring them altogether proved to be an escape hatch from its actual ramifications. 

If complicity comes in many different forms, the scariest realization is that we may never truly know anyone. That's not news, but how writer, actress and first-time feature director Fennell's script meticulously builds her case twist-by-twist before knocking the wind out of you in its closing minutes is. Like the mesmerizing lead performance carrying it, the film's fearless in refusing to pull any punches before arriving at a complex destination that's far from inevitable considering what came before. Stylish and beautifully constructed, it doesn't only give you something to think about following the credits, but provokes genuine discomfort and even outrage at having such thoughts. Whatever they may be.

Cassandra "Cassie" Thomas (Carey Mulligan) is 30-year-old woman living with her parents (Clancy Brown and Jennifer Coolidge) in Ohio after having dropped out of medical school years earlier due to an incident involving her best friend Nina. Now working at a coffee shop, she spends her nights at clubs pretending to be drunk to bait guys into taking her home, where they inevitably try to take advantage of the situation before she reveals her sobriety. 

As the reasoning behind Cassie's dangerous game starts to come into focus, her insulated world is temporarily turned upside down after a chance encounter with former classmate and pediatric surgeon Ryan Cooper (Bo Burnham), whom she eventually starts dating. Cassie's emerging feelings for him seem to conflict with news that a hated ex-classmate, Alexander "Al" Monroe (Chris Lowell) is recently engaged to be married. 

The mere mention of Al's name is an immediate trigger for Cassie, prompting her to embark on an intricate revenge plan involving multiple people entwined in a morally corrupt, misogynistic system that failed Nina and sent both fleeing from med school. As Cassie exacts revenge on those who wronged them, the idea of having actually met a good guy in Ryan could present the possibility of a future she gave up on having years ago. To embrace that, she'll need to let go of these revenge fantasies and an anger that's consumed her since the incident. But given the full nature of what happened and its lingering long-term impact, that could prove impossible. 

The film announces what it is right away, as a seemingly drunk Cassie lures her first victim in, if only he were actually a "victim" or even "lured." The young, outwardly affable businessman (played by Adam Brody) could be better categorized as the victimizer, or worse. He's just one of the unsuspecting marks Fennell brilliantly manipulates us into hanging our hats on by reconceptualizing the "nice guy" facade they've adopted to define themselves. Lulling us into considering they wouldn't dare take advantage of a barely conscious young woman without a ride home, how surprised or disappointed viewers are with the results goes a long way in confirming a certain level of pre-existing cynicism and awareness. Already an old pro at this, Cassie's ten steps ahead, complete with a personal scorecard that consistently yields a similar, if not identical, outcome each time. 

Never doubting that these guys have any other intention but to rape her, she's often alarmingly right, with one creep (played by Superbad's Christopher Mintz Plasse) going so far as to premptively victim-shame her before he can even get started. What they all have in common is the terrified looks on their faces when she reveals the con and exposes them for who they really are. Once confronted with her sobriety, they back off immediately, cowering in fear, suggesting she's really in this for that moment, knowing her actions could have just prevented it from happening again. Some want to run, others throw out excuses, but the upper hand is now hers in a power dynamic that's jarringly shifted.  

The script doesn't glide over Cassie's obvious issues, but the deeper understanding we get of the event that drove her here makes it easier for us to wrap our heads around the behavior. But it's still wrecklessly dangerous as she continuously places herself in harm's way to avenge a crime that can never be adjudicated or erased, having already caused irrecovable trauma. The arrival of Ryan into her orbit is when the material effortlessly alternates between some darker elements and a courtship that's enormously entertaining enough to stand on its own as a romantic comedy.

Fennell is so good at handling everything involving this relationship, as Cassie's walls gradually and believably start to crumble to the point that we think she may finally be able to turn the page on the grief that's emotionally paralyzed her. And we're rooting hard for it, while nervously dreading that a few potentially devastating scenarios could play out to derail it. Among them is the possibility Ryan ucovers her nightime hobby, isn't the true "nice guy" he seems or she's secretly targeting him next, playing some kind of long con in the hopes of exposing something.

While all of this adds an undercurrent of tension to every interaction, the chemistry between Mulligan and Burnham is such that we actually don't want any of these unsettling scenarios to come to fruition. The latter, better known as a comedian and director of 2018's critically acclaimed Eighth Grade, is especially good, conveying a geeky, self-depricating sense of humor that chips away at Cassie's defenses.

The idea that those who harm in the past rarely go away and are frequently incapable of significant change makes Cassie's work easier than it should be. Al's the ultimate end game in terms of her vengeance, but as she moves down the list, the enablers come off just as badly. Alison Brie as a stuck-up former classmate and Connie Britton as the University Dean are such realistically written and performed characters in terms of their normalized obliviousness. Exhibiting familar, if hypocritical behavior, they haven't a care in the world unless they're pushed, and something's on the line. For them, of course. 

Cassie exposes all their malfeasances and self-deception in a manner mirroring what she does with the aspiring rapists, refusing to draw the line between the actual act and those who stand by facilitating it. Given the stakes, even those wrestling with the morality of her methods would likely agree it's a message that badly needed to be delivered. Her encounter with a damaged lawyer (played by Alfred Molina) plays far differently, Cassie's reaction suggest she's playing with a fuller deck than initially suspected and there are certain lines that won't be be crosssed.

Despite the silly controversy that's arisen involving Carey Mulligan's looks as it relates to her qualifications for the role, the fact she's playing so agressively against her perceived screen persona only works to the material's favor. Usually more associated with period dramas, she enters the story as underestimated as her wild character, frequently framed in and surrounded by bright rainbow colors by cinematographer Benjamin Kračun as to contrast sharply with the story's inherent darkness. There are a lot of creative landmines for Mulligan to navigate to in terms of tone and intent, but she responds with her strongest ever work, reflecting in Cassie someone that's borne from tragedy, but cemented in a sadness and anger overlooked by those to whom she's closest, which are few. Alternating between observant girl-next-door and extroverted vixen, she carries the character's messy history on her shoulders, and as a result, the entire film.

When it's time to enter the lion's den and come face-to-face with the toxic jock bro she's been waiting years to destroy, Cassie comes prepared. Everything that happens in this movie's polarizing last act is shocking, but with an accompanying method to its madness. While the numbers game puts her in as serious danger, it's gone too far for her to turn back now, not that she'd even consider that. What actually goes down at the cabin bachelor party is jaw-dropping, but it's the fallout that gives Fennell's film its poisonous aftertaste, connecting all its dots in the most sensational of ways. All of it culminates in a revelatory closing sequence where you can almost literally hear the sound of a book closing or the last knot being tightly tied as the camera pans out.

All the praise heaped upon these final few minutes should extend past the editing and performances to also include the soundtrack. Often, the mark of truly great uses of popular songs in movies can be defined by a feeling that you've just heard it for the first time regardless of how frequently it's previously been played elsewhere. We get such a needle drop here, with a throwback tune that perfectly and ironically caps the moment, further enhancing the action it's juxtaposed against. It's such an ideal fit you'd figure it was written exactly for this scene, and unlikely to be heard the same way again. There's another more recent mainstream pop selection that makes a memorable karaoke cameo earlier on, but the closer is in a class by itself, marking one of many elements Fennell seamlessly harnesses to establish this nasty, confrontational experience as so much more than the mere sum of its parts.   

This would make for a great double feature with 2020's other provocative #MeToo drama, The Assistant, which could have easily been mistaken for a documentary given how raw and emotionlessly it depicted a similarly abusive environment. Tone-wise, they definitely don't match, but categorizing both under the same hashtag might be selling each short, reducing them to a very specific movement. It's never explicitly stated when the events here take place, and while the technology heavily implies present day, there's a timelessness to the proceedings and surroundings that force you to do a double take, speculating how a similar concept could have played out in the 80's or 90's. Or more pertinently, what the reaction would have been. Too full of jagged edges and black humor to be preaching anything, Promising Young Woman lets its scenario, and all the despicably flawed figures involved, speak for itself. And in doing that it becomes an outlier amongst socially concious thrillers by transcending the era for which it's made to become a stinging indictment on humanity as a whole.     

Inside Llewyn Davis

Directors: Joel and Ethan Coen
Starring: Oscar Isaac, Carey Mulligan, John Goodman, Garrett Hedlund, Justin Timberlake, F. Murray Abraham, Stark Sands, Adam Driver, Max Casella, Ethan Phillips
Running Time: 105 min.
Rating: R

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

The biggest surprise about Inside Llewyn Davis is just how narrow its focus is. The title should have probably been our first clue. This is a character study to the core. And it's a difficult, challenging one we should have known was coming since it's from the Coen brothers. And that will still don't see it coming is the greatest thing about it. What's surprising is just how unconventional it is, even by their standards. Anyone expecting an overview of the early 60's Greenwich Village folk scene and spoon fed warm, fuzzy feelings of nostalgia associated that period should probably search elsewhere. Which isn't to say they don't nail the time period completely in look, sound and everything else accompanying it. There is one brush with history, and while it's a big one, it's handled so nonchalantly that it hardly draws attention to itself. The Coens have nothing to prove. No one to impress. They just know exactly what they're doing, even when we haven't the slightest clue. Sometimes it's best to just trust the audience to figure things out.

Despite its subject being loosely based on late folk singer Dave Van Ronk (and his posthumously published 2005 memoir, The Mayor of MacDougal Street) this isn't Van Ronk biopic. That his ex-wife has criticized the film for being untruthful or inaccurate makes little sense considering it's not about him. By all accounts, Van Ronk was a well-liked guy with few (or any) of the problems this protagonist deals with. It's the trajectory of his career that provides the inspiration more than anything else. He's the jumping off point. Fame may have eluded him, but he wasn't a failure. Inside Llewyn Davis is all about failure and what it means. Or rather how thin the line separating failure and success can be. There were many more Dave Van Ronks than Bob Dylans, which makes one wonder if some strange combination of luck, opportunity, skill, timing or motivation caused the former to fade into obscurity while the latter became a legend? The film doesn't attempt to make sense of that because you can't. The Coens wisely choose not to try, and by doing that, somehow do.  

At one point Llewyn Davis (Oscar Isaac) is told, rather pointedly, that he doesn't have the innate charisma or connection with the audience to ever become a successful solo act in the business. It's clearer to us even earlier that he just might not have the ability to connect with people at all in any capacity. Llewyn was one half of a semi-popular folk duo with musical partner, Mike Timlin (sung by Mumford and Sons' Marcus Mumford), who killed himself jumping off the George Washington Bridge. At this rate, he's headed in the same direction, with his life stuck in an endless loop of mooching off friends who probably should have stopped tolerating him a while ago. What's saddest and darkly comical about the situation is how talented he actually is and how little that seems to matter.

The film's opening, in which he sings a gut-wrenching rendition of "Hang Me, Oh Hang Me" at the Gaslight wins us over immediately, and we'll stay on his side even as it's clear later the lengths he'll go to squander that potential. His manager isn't paying him. His sister hates him. And now he's stuck with an orange cat belonging to his friends the Gorfeins, whose Upper West Side apartment he's just crashed at. But his most fractured relationship is with folk singer and ex-flame Jean (Carey Mulligan), who he impregnated in spite of her being married to good friend Jim (Justin Timberlake). Short on money and with a solo recording deal far out of reach, Llewyn has to choose between what he considers "selling out" to pursue a music career, or abandoning it altogether. What's so tragicomic is how he somehow finds a way to royally screw up both options. He's just one of those guys where nothing he does seems to go right no matter how hard he tries. And, admittedly, he isn't even trying very hard since he doesn't care, or maybe cares a little too much, with very few definitive actions backing it up.

It's one hilarious catastrophe after the next that leads him to desperately take Timberlake's Jim up on his invitation to join he and Al Cody (Adam Driver) to record a goofy, folk-pop song called "Please, Mr. Kennedy." A lot has already been said and written about the scene and song being the film's defining (and funniest) moment, and it is, but it's interesting to look at it from the perspective of what qualified as embarrassingly bad commercial music that appealed to the masses in the early '60's. The real irony might be that the ridiculously catchy, borderline brilliant song is about ten times better than anything that would even pass as legitimately good pop music today. It really isn't bad, but the performances from the three actors as they discuss and prepare to deliver it in the scene's context makes it seem like the silliest song ever written. In any other context, it's amazing. But Llewyn is truly mortified having to perform it, before unintentionally sabatoging what could have been his only big payout with a lack of business acumen.

As much action that takes place in a time specific New York, the strangest section of the film actually occurs on the way to Chicago, as Llewyn hitches a ride with a James Dean-like beat poet named Johnny Five (Garrett Hedlund) and his passenger, the cranky, belligerent jazz musician Roland Turner (John Goodman, in top form), who spends the entire road trip hurling insults and telling nonsensical stories. I'm guessing this is the place where the movie probably loses a lot of perplexed audience members, but anyone familiar with the Coens work will instantly recognize it as the most Coen-like part of this whole absurd, but strangely moving adventure that's brimming at the rim with eccentric characters.

The casting of Oscar Isaac was a masterstroke because we don't really know who he is and doesn't bring the baggage a bigger, more established name would. Watching him as Llewyn is like seeing (and of course listening) to him for the first time, since few are likely to even recognize the actor from his supporting roles in movies like Drive. He's the star of the show playing a depressed character who lacks the charisma and drive to ever be the star of the show. Think how difficult that must be. And yet, against all odds, he manages to make this selfish, angry guy completely likable every step of the way. There wasn't a moment I wasn't rooting for him to pull out of this rut, even as the chances of that continue to diminish with each passing disaster. And boy can Isaac ever sing. I'd say he should release a folk album but he already did. It's the soundtrack to this movie which, top to bottom, feels like a legitimate folk release from the early '60's. Everyone in this does their own singing with famed producer T-Bone Burnett again turning in revelatory work by seamlessly replicating the music of the period.

In a way, it also feels like we're discovering the better known Carey Mulligan for the first time since seeing her play a morose, angry character who curses like a sailor would seem about a thousand paces removed for her if not for the added layer of vulnerability she infuses her with. Timberlake, as usual, proves there are few limits to what he can do as a performer in any medium, as it's unlikely anyone suspected he'd be able to believably portray one half of a folk duo with Mulligan and that they'd look and sound so authentic.

"Play me something from Inside Llewyn Davis," requests record producer Bud Grossman (F. Murray Abraham) when the singer arrives to meet him in Chicago. Llewyn responds by pouring his heart out with the beautifully depressing "The Death of Queen Jane," an eerily appropriate song selection given his current state. It's only upon reflection that this becomes the most important scene of the film, likely stinging quite a bit for anyone who's suffered for their art, been judged, or faced the pain of rejection. So basically everyone. Ultimately, does it matter whether this producer thinks there's any "money" in this? Are his criticisms valid or is he just on a power trip at Llewyn's expense? One could argue that if he truly had the passion and fire in his belly to see this through then it wouldn't have mattered to him one bit what this producer thought. If he loved making music he wouldn't he continue doing it, even if it meant temporarily finding another means of income? That's the big question mark. His talent is not.

A big fuss has been made by some about how a big a jerk this character is, but so was Bob Dylan, and we liked him. So that can't be it. History is written by the winners, even if the losers are often losers for a reason. Llewyn isn't quite as unlikable as he's been accused, or even as unlikable as some of the other characters he shares this Greenwich Village universe with. He's just badly floundering. Defeated by life and himself. The film's ending (which I won't dare spoil here) almost seems like a cruel (but wickedly hilarious) cosmic joke, reminding us that sometimes it really is only about being at the right place at the right time. And a bunch of other cards lining up just right. None of them have for this guy, partially by his own doing. The film does this loopy thing with time, folding over on itself and suggesting he may never break out of this cycle, opening up what was a relatively simple story for a variety of differing interpretations.

Admittedly it takes a while for this whole experience to settle in because there's so much more going on than first appears on the surface and I'm still not sure I've processed all of it. That final scene is a real zinger. We like to be on the winning team and watching movies about success make us feel good. But the few movies made about failure usually end up being deeper and more interesting. There are a limited number of ways to achieve, but no bounds to the amount of seemingly improbable ways someone can't. Llewyn Davis has most of them covered, and in showing that, the Coens give us exactly the '60's folk film we didn't know we wanted, or even necessarily deserved.

The Great Gatsby

Director: Baz Luhrmann
Starring: Leonardo DiCaprio, Tobey Maguire, Carey Mulligan, Joel Edgerton, Isla Fisher, Jason Clarke, Elizabeth Debicki, Amitabh Bachchan, Jack Thompson, Adelaide Clemens
Running Time: 142 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

The pressure and expectations that accompany adapting a classic novel for the big screen can be overwhelming. Unless, of course, it was already poorly adapted. Such is the case with F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby, which already spawned a 1974 version starring Robert Redford and Mia Farrow lifeless enough to double as an insomnia cure. One thing you can't call Baz Luhrmann's 2013 take is "lifeless," but considering he's the director of Romeo + Juliet and Moulin Rouge, we could have easily guessed that going in. My reasoning for including it in the runners-up section of the year's most anticipated films had less to do with the fact that I suspected it would be any good (though the potential was there) and more to do with it's potential as an entertaining train wreck with some memorable performances. He specializes in those, each resulting in varying degrees of creative success.

The big surprise is that this is far from a train wreck. It isn't crazy. It's a faithful, respectful re-telling of the original story that fulfills most of the expectations associated with our idea of the quintessential adaptation. In fact, the craziest thing about it is the title character, or rather the mesmerizing, off-kilter, over-the-top performance given by the actor playing him. And yet it feels right in this context. Not only does the movie look tremendous, but the story is absorbing and heartbreaking, working in tandem with the visuals to create a surprisingly rich and rewarding movie experience. Audiences loved it while critics were more mixed, but I'm siding with the former. There's an uncertain first hour, and a bit too much narration for my taste, but the payoff is sensational. Simply put, it's a great film that deserves a spot in the upper echelon of recent cinematic literary adaptations.

In just about the only change from the novel, Yale University grad, World War I vet and failed writer Nick Carraway (Tobey Maguire) pens his story in a sanatorium where he's being treated for alcoholism. It was the summer of 1922 when he moved from the Mid West to New York to take a job selling bonds and taking up residence in West Egg, Long Island. His neighbor is the elusive, enigmatic Jay Gatsby (Leonardo DiCaprio), a mysterious millionaire who throws lavish parties at his extravagant mansion. Confused by his recent invitation to one and taken aback by Gatsby's sudden interest in him, it soon becomes clear to Nick that his true interest is really in his cousin, Daisy Buchanan (Carey Mulligan), with whom he had a love affair five years prior. He's only thrown these parties with the hope she'd one day show up. Nick reconnects them, with the only problem being that she's married to philandering, brutish polo champion Tom Buchanan (Joel Edgerton). He's determined to unravel the mystery of Gatsby before it's too late and he loses his wife for good.

The biggest fear I had approaching this was that Luhrmann would use Fitzgerald's novel as a launching pad for a feature length music video or a rough outline for contemporizing it without having to face the backlash of actually contemporizing it. I fully expected this would primarily be a visual feast, with characters served up as appetizers to sell soundtracks. As it turns out, neither comes to pass. While the parties are a crazy visual spectacle employing elaborate use of CGI, over-the-top sets, quick cuts, and contemporary music, it's not a distraction and dovetails surprisingly well with the time period and story. If anything, it's more restrained than we were led to believe from the trailers, and while Jay-Z provides the score and Lana Del Ray an original song, nothing necessarily calls attention to that or takes us out of the period setting. Those concerns are only further squashed when we meet Gatsby, the buildup of which is given the satisfying mystery it deserves, proving that the story does really come first here. The slow, steady introduction of the mysterious Gatsby amongst rumors he's a spy and other far out rumors regarding his past, is the film's ace in the hole. And it's a credit to the script and DiCaprio's charismatic performance that those mysteries never feel fully disclosed even when they eventually are.

The film doesn't really begin until Gatby shows up and he knows how to make an entrance. DiCaprio just owns this from his very first scene, using the character's playboy persona to mask his massive insecurity. The brilliance in his portrayal comes when he subtly gives signs that he may not necessarily be in love with Daisy as much as he's obsessed with holding on to her and the past. That he's been throwing these lavish parties for years with only the hope she'll eventually show is almost proof enough. And when Gatsby eventually starts to crack, we still side with him because he remains so likable and relatable despite the extravagant lifestyle he leads. DiCaprio makes it easy for us to understand how, given his background and personality, the character would behave like this.

At first, Gatsby's using Nick to get to Daisy but the irony ends up being that the bond that forms between the two men might be the only real connection that's forged in the story. Nick's using him too, realizing his cousin is his free pass into a privileged world he may not have otherwise had access to. But because both are so honest and upfront about their intentions a true friendship is eventually formed and it's only toward the end, when all the leaches sucking off Gatsby's wealth have abandoned him, that we realize it's likely Nick was the only friend he's ever had.

Maguire makes for the perfect Nick Carraway since the actor's biggest selling qualities have always been his naivete and wide-eyed amazement at what's happening around him. He's the ideal vessel for the audience in that he's the rare reliable narrator who actually does seem reliable. We believe every word he's saying, even if one of the script's few flaws is that he's probably given too many of them, as the characters' actions are more than suitable in carrying the load. It had to help that DiCaprio and Maguire are in reality very good friends, and it's a credit to them that viewers would probably be able to guess that watching them interact on screen together.

Those expecting Carey Mulligan to make for an unforgettable Daisy should probably consider that the character has always been kind of a cipher or blank slate for Gatsby to project all of his obsessions onto. Even in the book that seemed to be her very specific function so there's really only so much an actress can do with that and Mulligan delivers exactly what's asked of her, but little more. Daisy isn't exactly a woman of agency but it's easy to imagine other rumored candidates for the role like Natalie Portman and Scarlett Johansson having a much rougher time with it than Mulligan, who possesses a certain type of innocence onscreen that they rarely convey.

Stealing most scenes is newcomer Elizabeth Debicki, who as golf pro and potential Nick love interest, Jordan Baker, nails the period look, manner and way of speaking to the extent that she not only draws attention to herself, but shines the spotlight on her castmates as well. Joel Edgerton gains a surprising amount of empathy for the brutish Tom Buchanan, as his third act verbal showdown with DiCaprio ends up being one of the film's strongest sequences. Rounding out the cast is Isla Fisher as Tom's mistress Myrtle and Jason Clarke as husband George, whose residence in the industrial "valley of ashes," is sensationally visualized by Luhrmann, even incorporating the novel's iconic paperback cover within the setting in an inventive touch.

We shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth as this is as good an adaptation of the source material as we're going to get, or was even possible. It's almost mind boggling that the reaction has been so divisive when Luhrmann stayed so relatively true to the original text. If anything, he could have taken more creative liberties since this is almost restrained for him. But this was the right approach. How he brings it home at the end with a surprisingly emotional wallop should be proof enough that there's a lot more going on here than the impressive production and costume design and cinematography, which will still likely figure in huge during awards time. This was hard to do but Luhrmann nailed it, proving that sometimes it isn't always best to leave well enough alone. By putting a new polish on a familiar story he's succeeded in making it more accessible, while not abandoning any of the original elements that made it work.  

Shame

Director: Steve McQueen
Starring: Michael Fassbender, Carey Mulligan, Nicole Beharie, James Badge Dale
Running Time: 101 min.
Rating: NC-17

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

It's infrequent seeing an NC-17 rating splashed across the screen before the start of a film, but on the rare occasion it happens, it's kind of a big deal. No studio heads in their right minds want to release a film that limits their audience and potential revenue right off the bat, Often the director or studio will give in, re-cutting it for a more respectable "R," as was the case with 2010 Blue Valentine, which featured a controversial sex scene. Steve McQueen's Shame is an anomaly in that it proudly wears its NC-17 as a badge of honor. There wasn't a chance anything with this much nudity and graphic sex would ever receive an R in this country. And we all know why.

The MPAA reserves its dreaded NC-17 rating for low budget, independent films with something important to say, while mainstream movies featuring gruesome violence and gratuitous sex for entertainment's sake often get a free pass. Shame is as much about sex addiction as Requiem for a Dream is about drug addiction or Leaving Las Vegas is about alcoholism. Which is to say not much at all. Addictions aren't actually about what they to seem to be about and only the best movies on the subject understand this. It's of little surprise the MPAA once again failed to grasp something called "context," which, in a fair system, would count for a whole lot more when rating a film.

All descriptions of thirty-something New Yorker Brandon Sullivan (Michael Fassbender) would read as "pervert" or "sex addict" when in fact the more accurate description of the protagonist is probably as "the loneliest man in the world." The opening scenes eerily resemble Young Adult as virtually no dialogue accompanies the boring rituals of one person's depressing existence. With a spacious, sterile Manhattan apartment looking as if it's been rented out by Patrick Bateman, you half-expect Brandon to be doing sit-ups and listening to Genesis. Instead, most of his time is spent bringing home hookers and masturbating to internet porn. When he isn't doing that he's roaming the streets for action or mentally undressing a married woman he sees daily on the subway. When desperate answering machine messages from his mentally unhinged, lounge singer sister Sissy (Carey Mulligan) begin piling up because she needs a place to crash, before he knows it she's at his door. When their tumultuous sibling relationship resumes and she starts sleeping with his boss David (James Badge Dale), Brandon starts to fly over the deep end, his anger, isolation and addiction consuming him like never before.

Anyone going into this thinking it's a movie that asks us to feel sorry for a rich, successful, handsome guy who goes around town getting laid at every turn is in for a rude awakening. In lesser hands this could have easily been, but in McQueen's it's a descent into emotional devastation. There's very little if any eroticism in any of these explicit sex scenes. In fact, if they're at all thrilling for him, the high wears off pretty quickly until he can get his next fix. Shame couldn't have possibly been a more appropriate title since Brandon spends the entire length of it in a permanent state of humiliation and embarrassment. Like when his boss confiscates his computer or when his sister publicly bares her soul with a version of "New York, New York" so out there and emotionally naked, he can't even bring himself to watch her sing. Without fear, she's able to express herself in a ways he's incapable of because of self-doubt and insecurity. His only chance at any true emotional intimacy is with co-worker Marianne (a revelatory Nicole Beharie) but the closer he gets the more difficult it becomes. Sex and love can't possibly co-exist in his world.

That Fassbender wasn't Oscar nominated for this shattering performance is definitely an injustice, though not exactly a shock considering the subject matter. Seemingly coming out of nowhere in 2011, a good case could be made he was the big breakout actor of the year with three wildly different roles in three completely different genres, with this being the most challenging and unforgettable. He doesn't do a lot of talking and the slick suaveness we usually associate with him as a performer is replaced with desperation, hopelessness and pent-up aggression. Add to that the number of incredibly uncomfortable scenes he had to perform and you have a performance that may not have gotten serious award recognition, but will no doubt outlast those that did. Opposite him, Carey Mulligan silences her critics who feel she's only capable of playing "cutesy" by proving she can get down and dirty with the best of them, going down some really dark paths we've yet to see her explore as actress and showing a range most were probably unaware she had. As the loopier half of these dysfunctional siblings,  Mulligan plays Sissy as a total train wreck, her toxic dependency pushing all of Brandon's buttons and eventually sending him off the deep end. He refuses to put up with her unless she changes her wild ways, whereas she feels it's his obligation to help in spite of them. They're both right. And wrong. Eventually they'll have to learn to change their ways but the question is whether it'll be too late. The final scene vaguely suggests there could be hope for Brandon. Or maybe not.

Timely and hypnotizing, this is a film that cuts quite a bit deeper than even its most ardent defenders have given it credit for. In a society where we seem as connected as ever in our daily interactions it's easy to forget that we're actually drifting further apart. The scariest thing about Brandon is that we can picture ourselves knowing him and believing everything on the surface seems fine. It isn't a movie about sex, but the loneliness manifesting itself in that addiction. Based on content alone it surely deserved the MPPA rating it got but what's more noteworthy is that the film actually needed it to tell its story and showing any less would almost feel like a betrayal of its purpose. A minimalistic but searing human drama, Shame is too depressing to watch more than once, which shouldn't pose a problem since once is more than enough.

The 10 Best Alternative Drive Movie Posters

Conspicuously absent from my annual post highlighting 2011's best and worst movie posters was the critically adored Drive, a film many (including myself) would rank amongst the very best of the year. Never an easy sell and seemingly destined for cult classic status from the start, its commercial failure could be chalked up to the studio just simply not knowing what they had, or at least being able to articulate it in a manner that would entice audiences to see it. The result was a confused print campaign featuring a Ryan Gosling-centric character poster that strangely misrepresents and epitomizes the film's retro style all at the same time. It's not terrible, but good luck finding it hanging anywhere other than a teen girl's bedroom. Another one clumsily repositioned it as some kind of lost entry in the Fast and Furious franchise and its DVD/Blu-Ray cover art is just flat-out embarrassing, not to mention inaccurate (the scorpion's not on the front of the jacket!). So artists and fans came up with designs of their own and I've rounded up the best ones below, with a top pick so extraordinary it was wisely approved by the studio for release as an official poster for the film. Whatever anyone thinks of the movie, it's impossible to deny its iconic images and motifs inspired some really creative designs. Wherever possible I've tried to include links to the artists and their work, some of which is available for purchase.

10. by Peter Gagic

9. by Rich Andrews (Empire Design)

8. by Vincent Gabriele

7. by Mike Horowitz

6. by Louis Fernando Cruz

5. by Louis Fernando Cruz

4. by Cory Schmitz

3. by Phil Noto

2. by Ken Taylor

 *Downloadable Blu-Ray Cover
 1. by James White (Signal Noise Studio)

Runners-Up:

by Cory Schmitz

by Cory Schmitz

by Vincent Gabriele

by Louis Fernando Cruz

by Scott Hopko (Hopko Designs)

by Adri Ncde

by Timo Lessmollmann

by Edward B.G.

by Masse Hjeltman

by Pierrot Neron

 

 by Drew Wise

Drive

Director: Nicolas Winding Refn 
Starring: Ryan Gosling, Carey Mulligan, Albert Brooks, Bryan Cranston, Oscar Isaac, Christina Hendricks, Ron Perlman 
Running Time: 100 min. 
Rating: R  

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

I guess there really is a first time for everything. Watching Drive I was so shocked by the nature of the violence I nearly had to turn away. This seems like a strange reaction given there isn't necessarily a huge amount. Many movies have more. It's all about context. Slow, methodical and hypnotizing, the film builds a groundswell of tension, meticulously exploring every character and emotion until the violence finally arrives. And when it arrives, it's scary as hell. Because we care about the characters, the over-the-top carnage becomes that much more unsettling. Half set-up, the other half pay-off, director Nicolas Winding Refn uses spare parts from decades past to construct a compelling crime drama that's substance is its style. A likely modern classic that actually places demands on its audience, it's a virtual a love letter to the movies that couldn't come at a better time. Those claiming the film's enamored with its own coolness aren't completely wrong, just neglect to mention it earns the right by actually being that cool.

Far from your typical action thriller it stars Ryan Gosling whose nameless Driver finds himself at the center of a gathering storm. The plot is as bare bones as it gets, relying on a unfortunate coincidence that spirals out of control. As a mechanic and part-time stunt driver for B-movies who moonlights as a getaway man, Driver's precision and attention to detail is on full display in a brilliant prologue where he helps two burglars evade the cops. The entire sequence, set to Cliff Martinez's retro infused synthesizer score lays out the ground rules and takes us into his isolated world, soon to be shattered. Just as he falls hard for his new neighbor Irene (Carey Mulligan) and befriends her young son Benecio (Kaden Leos), her husband Standard (Oscar Isaac) is released from prison and wants to make amends, but he's made a few enemies who are now threatening his family's safety. Out of unspoken loyalty to Irene and Benecio, Driver agrees to a dangerous robbery that goes horribly wrong, engulfing him in a cat-and-mouse game where he must risk his life to protect them. At the same time he's also recruited to do some racing for friend and boss Shannon (Bryan Cranston) who makes a crooked deal with former movie producer Bernie Rose (Albert Brooks) and his sleazy associate Nino (Ron Perlman). 

When you strip the narrative down to its bare essentials it's a crime thriller populated with the kinds of characters we're used to seeing take a backseat to computer generated effects, high-speed chases and explosions. We get dozens of those every year, some worse than others, with only a few standing out from the pack. Refn instead takes a methodical, atmospheric approach and there's a good chance more casual moviegoers used to being slammed with action in the face at a mile a minute will find it slow and boring. They're entitled to their opinion, but may want to consider the alternative which would have provided a quick high before completely fading from the memory. If anything, this is the kind of film guaranteed to grow in stature over repeated viewings since it's only after you've witnessed the mayhem unleashed in the second half does everything leading up to it seem that much more tragic.

Driver is an action hero in the mold of a Steve McQueen or Clint Eastwood in that he lets his actions do the talking but Gosling does something different with the character that goes well beyond that. He suggests Driver could be a shy introvert that behaves how he does not as a tactic, but because it's who he is. You get the impression something may even be socially off with him and that the emotional connection he forms with this mother and her son could be the closest thing he's had to a real connection with anyone in his life. In fact, he's so quiet and reserved there are moments where we question whether he has feelings for Irene at all beyond just helping, and if he does, whether he's interested or even capable of acting on them. There are a lot of ways to read their relationship and it helps having two top pros in Gosling and Mulligan, conveying more in long stretches of silence than most other actors can with pages of dialogue. Just him stopping over at her apartment for a glass of water feels like an epic event.

While Gosling isn't big in stature, he registers just the right kind of intensity for the role, never making Driver seem flustered, even when he's delivering or receiving the bloodiest of beatdowns. One of the biggest downfalls of recent action movies is the rise of the "pretty boy" plugged in as an insufficient lead to sell tickets instead of kick ass. He proves here beyond a doubt he isn't that and after teetering on the brink of super greatness for a while now, gives the performance that pushes him over the edge into the upper echelon, solidifying him among the best of his generation.  Many have already pointed out that Mulligan seems miscast as Irene and that's exactly the point. It's an intentional miscast meant to throw us off balance as no one would expect the actress who radiates as much warmth and innocence to be trapped in the middle of this dirty, sadistic L.A. underworld. Had anyone else played the role it's likely I wouldn't have cared but her presence transforms a part that's too often one-dimensional in crime thrillers. It's no mystery why Driver seems to instantly fall for her and is willing to sacrifice everything to keep her and Benecio safe.

Cast even more heavily against type, legendary comedian Albert Brooks is absolutely terrifying as mob boss Bernie Rose. He's only in a few choice scenes, but boy are they disturbing, especially one he shares with Cranston so tense it's almost difficult to watch. Abandoning his usual comic persona, his character's the embodiment of pure evil and his slick, cold, business-like demeanor is the antithesis of Gosling's everyman hero. Given the rare opportunity to sink his teeth into a vastly different kind of role, it's a thrill seeing Brooks subvert expectations, providing an uncomfortable contrast in a film that completely revolving around uncomfortable contrasts. It wouldn't be off the mark to describe it as an 80's style romance that careens into blood soaked tragedy. That Refn can make those two wildly divergent genres co-exist in perfect harmony is perplexing but the neon pink opening titles and retro electronic pop soundtrack (featuring Kavinsky's "Night Call" and even more memorably College's "A Real Hero") not only fit right in, but feel just as integral to the story as the characters themselves.

This is exactly the kind of movie you can picture Quentin Tarantino kicking himself for not attempting. Could he do it as well?  Possibly, but he'd have to curb his penchant for having his characters talk about how cool it is they're in it rather than building tension and suspense. This is the result when the right director, cast and material all come together at once, and it's poor box office performance isn't a huge surprise given the polarizing risks Refn takes. It's just too challenging, representing the type of film mainstream audiences have been programmed to hate after being weened on truckloads of generic Hollywood garbage each year. Now when something's finally done right, it feels wrong, if only for daring to be different. Drawing from a myriad of influences that suggest it was transported from another era, Drive still feels wholly authentic and original, proving that action and violence mean little without an investment in the characters.