Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere

Director: Scott Cooper
Starring: Jeremy Allen White, Jeremy Strong, Paul Walter Hauser, Stephen Graham, Odessa Young, Gaby Hoffman, Marc Maron, David Krumholtz, Harrison Gilbertson, Grace Gummer, Chris Jaymes, Johnny Cannizzaro, Brian Chase
Running Time: 119 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★)  

In Scott Cooper's low-key, surprisingly contemplative Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere, we get a portrait of an uncompromising artist attempting to escape his past, his childhood, his own father and the  fame that began to engulf him in the early 80's. Bruce Springsteen's journey is recognizable, but that's less a flaw with the film than confirmation of how often personal pain powers the work and ambition required to achieve greatness. For Bruce, it was always about the music first, even as his celebrity became an unintended consequence he'd rather ignore. 

Problems often arise when films of this genre employ a traditionally linear approach, cutting corners and running through tired clichés to reach the finish line. So it's to Cooper's credit that he doesn't attempt to cram the entire life and career of the Boss into a two-hour window, instead staying true to Warren Zanes' 2023 book covering the creation of his riskiest album. It's more a fading snapshot of a specific era, with Bruce arriving at a personal and creative crossroads, painfully looking back while trying to move forward.  

It's 1981 when ascending rock star Bruce Springsteen (White) finishes the final leg of his sold-out The River tour and manager Jon Landau (Jeremy Strong) rents him a house in Colts Neck, New Jersey where he can quietly decompress. After stumbling upon the movie Badlands on TV, he starts researching notorious serial killer Charles Starkweather, using his story and the works of author Flannery O'Connor to craft new material. But the home's close proximity to the Freehold neighborhood where Bruce grew up brings back traumatic childhood memories of an alcoholic, mentally ill father Douglas (Stephen Graham), who physically and emotionally abused him and his mother Adele (Gaby Hoffman).  

Calling on his guitar tech Mike Batlan (Paul Walter Hauser) to bring in a four-track recorder, Bruce turns the bedroom into a makeshift studio where he begins writing a collection of somber songs influenced by his blue-collar upbringing. He also starts dating his old friend's sister Faye (Odessa Young), a single mom struggling to make ends meet. After hearing the somber tracks, Jon's perplexed by Bruce's refusal to alter or clean up the raw acoustic sound he perfected in that room. But as Jon faces the impossible task of convincing Columbia Records' exec Al Teller (David Krumholtz) to release the unmarketable Nebraska, Bruce is suffering from a bigger identity crisis than anyone realizes.

Watching this, you see how oddly fitting it is that Springsteen's most recognizable single came six years prior with "Born To Run," a title he appears to live by through much of the film. And though the pressure's on to top The River's enormous success, we're at least spared another rock star's descent into drug abuse and addiction, with the singer having already gotten a front row seat to those consequences as a child. Rather Bruce's demons come in the form of untreated depression, dimming the brightest moments and lessening what should be the highest of highs.  

Strange as it seems given Nebraska's esteemed standing in Bruce's catalogue, the album was actually a huge gamble that could have easily derailed his career. And a folk excursion coming off the heels of one of the artist's more commercially friendly periods only made it a tougher sell. But what's interesting about Cooper's script is how it doesn't necessarily present this undertaking as a choice so much as a flood of memories and influences converging at once, leaving him little option but to lower his guard and let them in. 

Absent among these demos is a radio ready hit like "Hungry Heart" or "Out in the Street," but that's inevitable given the stripped down circumstances under which they're produced. And Bruce won't budge on any of it, rejecting the idea of a tour, singles, promotion, or even his photo on the album's cover. But most importantly, the sound he created in that bedroom must be replicated as it was, minus the usual studio bells and whistles. Neither difficult or full of himself, he's just sure of his work in an era when even the most popular musicians were forced by suits to make crippling compromises. 

While now we know how far a record like this can go in enhancing an artist's discography, the notion of creative freedom or subverting expectations was foreign at the time, even if it bolsters their popularity once they eventually return to the sound with which fans are most familiar. So if it's painful for Jon and producer Chuck Plotkin (Marc Maron) to shelve future all-timers "Born in the U.S.A.," "Glory Days," "I'm Goin' Down" and "I'm on Fire," to accommodate Bruce's more muted vision, it all worked out in the end, with those abandoned tracks defining his legacy on the next album. 

Focusing on the concept album's construction makes this more palatable than it would otherwise be, even if 1950's black and white flashbacks to Bruce's abusive childhood might prompt complaints of Cooper following the genre's typical blueprint. In this case though, it's relevant to both the music's content and emotional scars that infiltrate every facet of the singer's life. This includes a meaningful relationship with Faye he can't help but sabotage, fearful of exposing a side of himself no one's permitted to see. 

Powered by Jeremy Allen White's transformative performance in the title role, we're reminded how singing is only half the battle, if that. Briefly convincing us he sounds good enough to pass muster in the concert scenes is one thing, but actually capturing the Boss's swagger and mannerisms is another challenge entirely, as the actor goes beyond imitation to dig deeper during his many quieter moments alone, haunted by the past. 

Strong leaves a lasting impression as Bruce's biggest advocate, shepherding the release of a possibly doomed album that only sees the light of day with his full support. Critical but realistic, he's a friend anyone would be lucky enough to also call their manager, as demonstrated by his receptive "wait and see" approach upon receiving the tape. His best scene comes opposite Krumholtz's exec, making it clear that his allegiance lies with Bruce, regardless of what the label wants. 

A biopic peppered by a series of depressing flashbacks is good cause for skepticism, but the tropes are mostly sidestepped by Graham's ice cold supporting turn and memories that pay off in Bruce's songwriting and eventual acceptance of where he came from. While the elder Springsteen may have done the best he could, his best happened to be terrible, which is something both need to work past. But in writing an album he didn't know needed to exist, Bruce lets it all pour out, intrinsically tying his music to the endeavor of creating it. Deliver Me From Nowhere is at its best when exploring that process, shedding light on how Nebraska eventually came to be.  

The Apprentice

Director: Ali Abbasi 
Starring: Sebastian Stan, Jeremy Stron, Maria Bakalova, Martin Donovan, Catherine McNally, Charlie Carrick, Ben Sullivan, Jason Blicker, Mark Rendell, Bruce Beaton, Ian D. Clark, Tom Barnett, Stuart Hughes
Running Time: 123 min.
Rating: R

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Depending on your perspective, Ali Abbasi's Donald Trump origin story The Apprentice can be viewed as either a grotesque hit job or an accurate biographical examination of one of the most fascinating and controversial figures in American history. Or maybe, it's just a little of both. In most biopics, lines between fact and fiction blur to a point where the truth rarely matters, which is a wicked irony its subject would likely appreciate, if the movie were about anyone but him.

It revolves around a young, aspiring real estate mogul out to prove his father wrong, hustling to make a mark long before becoming a TV star or being twice elected President of the United States. With studios unwilling to take the legal risk of releasing this and everyone getting their fill of the real thing 24/7, Abbasi gives us the only Trump movie we'll probably ever need. Its title refers not to his wildly popular reality show of the 00's, but a stint decades earlier under the learning tree of cutthroat attorney Roy Cohn, who takes the eager, inexperienced businessman under his wing. A decision he'll later regret.

It's 1973 and a young Donald Trump (Sebastian Stan) is trying to get the federal government off the back of his real estate tycoon father Fred (Martin Donovan) who's being investigated for discrimination against African-American tenants. Trump meets with combative New York lawyer Cohn (Jeremy Strong), who agrees to help, in the process showing his new protégé how to make media connections and dress for the part. He also assists Trump in his quest to turn the dilapidated midtown Commodore Hotel into a Hyatt, blackmailing government officials to obtain a tax abatement.

Gaining fame and notoriety, Trump marries Czech model Ivana (Maria Bakalova) while his troubled airline pilot brother Fred Jr. (Charlie Carrick) sinks deeper into alcoholism. As his ego inflates by the day, he stops listening to Cohn and invests in rash, money losing ventures like the Trump Taj Mahal in Atlantic City. Pushing everyone away, the marriage to Ivana implodes, as does his friendship with Cohn, whom he betrays during the crooked prosecutor's time of dire need.

It's pretty wild to finally see on screen what we've only read or heard about Trump's formative years in New York prior to him becoming as a household name. And while Abbasi lays that groundwork magnificently, the switch isn't flipped by a single event or even two. This evolution was brewing from the start, informed by both his strict upbringing and professional association with Cohn. There's an inevitability to it while still suggesting this could have gone another way for Trump if just a few things fell differently. But it didn't and Cohn lights a fuse he'll get to see explode before his 1986 death.

The film fittingly opens with the nation's jaded skepticism surrounding Watergate's immediate aftermath before seguing into the Reagan years, when Trump experiences his greatest success as the living embodiment of Gordon Gekko's "greed is good" philosophy. But it's Cohn who gives his pupil the three rules all winners live by: "attack, attack, attack," never admit wrongdoing and always claim victory, even in defeat. 

Trump will later claim those eerily prophetic rules as his in the bestselling "The Art of the Deal," but when he first encounters Cohn he's impressionable and clueless, struggling to escape the grip of his controlling dad. And what's most surreal about watching this interpretation of Trump in the late 70's is that he sort of comes across as likable and ambitious enough for us to see the same untapped potential Cohn does.

Cohn is depicted as a monster not above using blackmail, threats and intimidation against his adversaries. He's also a closeted gay Jew prone to hurling homophobic, antisemitic and misogynistic slurs when he feels it'll give him an edge, perceived or actual. Only at his lowest point do we get a small glimpse into why, though the script is careful not to frame that as some kind of mea culpa. He is who he is, with Abbasi and writer Gabriel Sherman wisely opting not to sugarcoat it.

With his piercing gaze and a robotically rapid fire delivery, an unrecognizable Jeremy Strong pulls off the ultimate disappearing act as Cohn. Conveying complete control at all times, the most powerful part of his performance comes when the teacher realizes he's done too good a job training Trump, as the prized student absorbs all of Cohn's heartless lessons, only to eventually use them against his mentor. But even when the crooked prosecutor's braggadocious bluster is stripped away by AIDS, Strong keeps us guessing as to whether he actually changes or was just overtaken by someone more ruthless.

That an ailing Cohn continues telling lies on his deathbed out of self preservation seems on brand for him, as if concealing his illness and homosexuality would somehow rescue an already shattered reputation. Strong doesn't play this for empathy or press the issue, instead subtly hinting that maybe the tiniest shred of humanity seeps through at the end.

Trump's uncomfortably disgusted reaction to Cohn's health nearly mirrors his feelings about Fred Jr.'s alcoholism. While he's initially supports his big brother and famously still doesn't drink because of this, their father looms large, insultingly calling his TWA pilot son a "bus driver with wings." And although Fred complains about how much of screw up Donald is also, it won't be long before the latter replicates his father's attitude, writing Fred Jr. off as a loser before his death shakes him in a way we don't quite expect. 

Well played with condescending cruelty by Martin Donovan, family patriarch Fred Trump is often pointed to as the central motivator for Donald's obsession with power and success. This portrayal doesn't refute that, but more noteworthy is how their relationship changes once Fred's grip slips and he's surpassed by his son, who seeks a validation he'll never get. 

Fred's not just incapable of telling Donald he's proud of him, even his backhanded compliments seem cloaked in jealousy and disappointment. If Trump Tower's opening is the closest a clearly declining Fred comes to congratulating him, it's a pathetically half-hearted endorsement that comes too late to matter. By now, young Trump's already off to the races and isn't looking back.

Once Trump ascends, he stops listening and hates being told "no," whether it's from Cohn, Mayor Ed Koch (Ian D. Clark), his own mother Mary Anne (Catherine McNally), or in a particularly disturbing scene, Ivana. Amidst these futile attempts to push back is a strangely memorable moment where a doctor tries to convey the benefits of exercise to the appearance obsessed, amphetamine popping Trump. This leads to a surprisingly graphic but powerful montage involving liposuction and scalp removal surgery.

In a role no one thought could be believably filled, Sebastian Stan is a revelation, finding just the right balance in preventing the portrayal from sliding into parody or caricature. Less an attempt at mimicry than the effort to capture Trump from the inside out, he projects the steadiest of transformations. It isn't obvious right away, but as events accumulate and the tide shifts, Stan resembles him more and more, both physically and in his mannerisms. By the time we get to the third act that resemblance is downright scary, making good on the film's promise of being an "American Horror Story."

Despite immersing us in the grit and glitz of 80's New York with offbeat soundtrack choices and stripped down cinematography from Kasper Nuxen that's indistinguishable from period footage, there are key moments of foreshadowing. Whether it comes in a revealing TV interview where Trump's asked about a possible Presidential run, Cohn's legal machinations or an exchange with confidante Roger Stone that reveals the possible genesis for MAGA, the film masterfully hints how seeds may have been planted far earlier than anyone thought.

This could have gone wrong in so many different ways or come across as a feature length SNL skit, but Abassi instead delivers a compelling account that will now fall on time and distance to judge. As the pre-credit disclaimer reminds us, issues of accuracy and exaggeration will follow any biopic, but what's more noticeable here is how every minute succeeds in capturing the perception of Trump's bombastic public persona. And by zeroing in on this very specific era, we get further into the headspace of a man we've lately struggled to picture in an incarnation other than his current one.  

Armageddon Time

Director: James Gray
Starring: Anne Hathaway, Jeremy Strong, Banks Repeta, Jaylin Webb, Anthony Hopkins, Tovah Feldshuh, Ryan Sell, John Diehl, Jessica Chastain, Andrew Polk
Running Time: 115 min.
Rating: R 

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

While watching writer/director James Gray's semi-autobiographical, coming-of-age drama Armageddon Time, it's almost impossible not to subconsciously think of Steven Spielberg's The Fabelmans. But even as both respected filmmakers' childhoods are defined by complicated relationships with their Jewish families, there are key differences. This is more intimate, dryer and less showy than Spielberg's effort, which isn't necessarily a put down. And with the exception of a couple of cameos sure to stir debate, it's not nearly as eccentric. A subdued experience that functions as a time capsule of early eighties New York, it's also a project that transcends the director's own nostalgia to convey larger points about inequality and prejudice. 

Gray deserves credit for making this less about him than how a kid his age viewed a changing world. Known for smaller character driven pieces, it snuggly fits into his filmography, and since Gray isn't the public figure Spielberg is, it feels like less of an event. But that works well in managing viewer expectations, enabling us to more easily lose ourselves in the story and performances. Despite a downbeat tone, the care and attention to detail make it a comfortable universe to reside in for nearly two hours, as its young leads convey an authentic friendship that's tested by the biases surrounding them.  

It's 1980 in Queens, New York and on his first day of sixth grade, Paul Graff (Banks Repeta) befriends a rebellious African-American student named Johnny Davis (Jaylin Webb), who was held back a year. When the two start getting into trouble, Johnny receives the brunt of the blame, while Paul's ambitions of becoming an artist are scoffed at by his caring but strict Jewish parents, Irving (Jeremy Strong) and Esther (Anne Hathaway). Only grandfather Aaron Rabinowitz (Anthony Hopkins) encourages his artistic pursuits and dispenses sage advice, while still acknowledging he has some growing up to do.

When the two boys are caught smoking a joint in the school restroom, Paul is sent to the same private school as his older brother Ted (Ryan Sell), trying to fit in as he and Johnny's bond is challenged by the move. Feeling burdened by the weight of his parents' lofty expectations, Paul soon realizes just how much his friend's perilous situation is dictated by outside forces far beyond their control.   

Shot in this brownish, old timey hue by cinematographer Darius Khondji, it sometimes feels as if this takes place earlier than 1980, with references to the Beatles and just a general feeling that Paul's being guided into conforming to the standards of his parents and grandparents' generation rather than his own. Some of the best scenes are at school, with him and Johnny immediately forging a friendship based on shared interests and a penchant for creating chaos. 

The story reaches a point that that you start wondering whether the adults are inadvertently pouring gasoline on the fire, with the kids' behavior worsening with each new warning or consequence. We also get the impression that they're being held to entirely different standards, with many believing Paul's been corrupted by this new black kid in class. That both could be equally responsible rarely crosses anyone's minds, leading to even uglier consequences later on.

Paul dreams of becoming an artist and Johnny intends to work for NASA, but both are discouraged at every turn, which is ironic considering how anyone today would be impressed a pair sixth graders have such grand ambitions at all. But these goals are really only attainable for Paul, who's white. Johnny has no parents and lives with his grandmother, while his more privileged, connected friend has a mom on the school board and a hard working father with high standards. Young actors Repeta and Webb are extremely likable in their roles, even when doing unlikable things. And is this gets progressively heavier, both are up to the task, subtly projecting a potential in their characters that flies over the heads of these authority figures.    

Anthony Hopkins makes the most out of his supporting role as the boy's pragmatic grandfather, a wise, empathetic figure who stands in stark contrast to Paul's dad, or so we think. It's revealed just how much the pressure of living up to that example weighs on Irving, with a performance from Jeremy Strong that only becomes more nuanced as the film progresses, establishing the character as someone more than a strict disciplinarian who reaches for the strap every time Paul tests him. 

Hathaway is effortless in her part, sliding into Gray's early 80's universe as a working mother  contemplating conflicted feelings of concern and uncertainty over the right way to handle their son's behavior. Paul fears the beating of his young life when his dad discovers his worst transgression yet, only to realize that's preferable to the actual punishment, which involves a transfer to Forest Manor Prep in Queens. This leads to a face-to-face encounter with the school's primary financial donor, a mustachioed businessman by the name of Fred Trump (John Diehl). 

If that wasn't enough, Paul even sits through a speech by Fred's daughter and school alumna Maryanne Trump (Jessica Chastain). So even if it may be more interesting to watch a documentary detailing Gray's conversation with the Oscar winner about taking the role, this apparently happen, as the family's involvement at Forest Manor during this time is quite real. Their brief inclusion, as shocking as it is, does seem less about them than what they represent. Fred's most infamous son may not be in it, but Gray's intentions still come across loud and clear.

Maryanne's motivational talk foreshadows the film's ending, even if Gray has a tougher time directly tying that to the featured news clips of Ronald Reagan, who takes more of a thrashing here than the Trumps, as he's frequently mocked by Paul's liberal, minded parents. This all makes it sound like a political film when the intention is really to point out the uneven playing field Johnny continuously endures.

For certain people to succeed, others are inevitably thrown under the bus, and the best Irving can do for his son is make him acutely aware of it, preparing him for the inevitability that life's more unfair for some than others. There's a moment in the last act where Gray has an easy out, but instead decides to go a step further and write the characters into a corner that forces them and the viewers to confront harsher realities. It's through this that Paul realizes just how fortunate he is and how you sometimes take the lucky break, no matter how bad or wrong it feels. 

At its core, Armageddon Time is a period piece about kids who just want to be kids, despite having little wiggle room to learn, grow or make mistakes. And unfortunately for one, there's no room whatsoever. The hypothesis Gray eventually reaches is something we know, but isn't often expressed through a child's perspective. It's blunt but effective, leaving a lasting impression that sure to receive criticism better reserved for films far less accomplished at handling the tricky material this does. Gray walks a thin line in attempting to draw parallels between his childhood and the world today, but he mostly pulls off, enveloping us in a deeply personal story that suggests far broader implications.                                     

The Trial of the Chicago 7

Director: Aaron Sorkin
Starring: Eddie Redmayne, Alex Sharp, Sacha Baron Cohen, Jeremy Strong, John Carroll Lynch, Noah Robbins, Daniel Flaherty, Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, Kelvin Harrison Jr., Mark Rylance, Ben Shenkman, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, J.C. MacKenzie, Frank Langella, Michael Keaton 
Running Time: 130 min.
Rating: R 

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

If it's become customary to refer to any controversial or contested trial that captivates the public's imagination as a "circus," 1969's trial of a group of seven anti-Vietnam protesters charged with conspiracy and crossing state lines with the intention of inciting a riot at the Democratic National Convention feels like the starting point. That Netflix's The Trial of the Chicago 7 is written and directed by Aaron Sorkin pretty much insures that we won't be subjected to a dry, biographical history lesson recounting the timeline of events surrounding this pivotal event. But there's this feeling that even if he did take that more conventional approach, the material would still be inescapably compelling and entertaining enough on its own merits. But this is Sorkin we're talking about so it's not like anyone is expecting the writer behind The Social Network and The West Wing to phone it in. And sure enough, he doesn't.

Better recognized for having other filmmakers adapt his sometimes polarizing perspectives, there was a question mark surrounding how Sorkin's decisions behind the camera would affect this material given that this is only the Oscar-winning screenwriter's second directorial feature. So while we'll never know how his script could have turned out in other hands, it's tough to care when the version we do get leaves this much of an impression. With an all-star cast at his disposal, he manages to give this multi-faceted, politically and ethically complicated true story the dramatic heft it deserves while expertly balancing many of its comedic, absurdist moments. And there's no doubt that this trial is absurd on every possible level, made that much more remarkable by the fact that much of what we see did actually happen, if you give or take some details and grant the usual degree of creative license.

It's August 1968 when Students for a Democratic Society (SDS) president Tom Hayden (Eddie Redmayne) and community organizer Rennie Davis (Alex Sharp), Youth International Party (Yippie) founders Abbie Hoffman (Sacha Baron Cohen) and Jerry Rubin (Jeremy Strong), along with Vietnam mobilization leader (MOBE) David Dellinger (John Carroll Lynch) and anti-war activists Lee Weiner (Noah Robbins) and John Froines (Daniel Flaherty) protest at the Democratic Convention in Chicago, kicking off a chain of events that results in violent rioting. Five months later, all of them, in addition to an eighth defendant, Black Panther party co-founder Bobby Seale (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II), are charged and eventually put on trial, with the Attorney General appointing young, idealstic lawyer Richard Schultz (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) and veteran litigator Tom Foran (J.C. MacKenzie) as prosecutors for the case. 

With the extremely prejudiced Judge Julius Hoffman (Frank Langella) on the bench, defense attorneys William Kunstler (Mark Rylance) and Leonard Weinglass (Ben Shankman) attempt to represent their rather uncontrollable clients, most notably the disruptive Abbie Hoffman and self-professed non-client Seale, who forgoes legal counsel to instead receive advice from Illinois Black Panther chapter chairman Fred Hampton (Kelvin Harrison Jr.) in court. With the events of that summer coming into clearer view through key witness testimony, the proceedings soon careen out of control, with Judge Hoffman's controversial, biased rulings making it impossible for the defendants to receive a fair trial, exposing the flaws within the government, judicial system, and further opening the wounds of political and racial unrest throughout the country. 

As far as the nation's most ridiculous trials go, this one's right up there, as the film starts in an almost jarringly scattershot montage style, introducing us to the key principle players in court, while interspersing often uproariously comical legal scenes with the fateful events that took place in Chicago. Tonally, this isn't the easiest balancing act, but Sorkin masters it, establishing all of their out-sized personalities and motivations, with Cohen's Abbie Hoffman and Strong's Jerry Rubin being the most radicalized of the group, easily getting under the quick-tempered, frustratingly illogical judge's skin. An early highlight sees Judge Hoffman constantly interrupting Schultz's opening statement to reiterate that there's "no relation" between he and the defendant. If ever there was a mix-up no one would ever make, it's that. 

This entire film really belongs to an award-worthy Langella, who just nails the staggering incompetence of a man who makes Judge Lance Ito look like RBG. Senile, racist and mind-blowingly ignorant, his actions are hilariously inept until it's obvious the stakes have gotten too high and, we're left to process the immense consequences of this eventual verdict, along with all the potential ramifications surrounding that. It's funny until it isn't, and that line's very visible once it's crossed. Much of the turmoil concerns the eighth defendent, Bobby Seals, who besides probably not even deserving of being there, is shut down in escalatingly humiliating ways by the judge, reaching a fever pitch toward the trial's end. You almost lose track of how many charges of contempt are laid down, especially on Mark Rylance's defense attorney, who eventually has enough. 

Everyone's had enough, with some faring better than others at hiding it. The two bedrocks who seem incapable of breaking are Redmayne's logically level-headed Tom Hayden and JGL's Schultz, the latter of whom isn't ignorant to the shenanigans unfolding while still retaining his loyalty to the law. A park encounter midway through with him and Hoffman and Rubin truly reveals what type of a person he is, conistent with his character in court and a reminder that boths sides are being professionally and personally victimized by this sham of a trial, regardless of how much weight the charges carry. There's also a brief, but great performance from Michael Keaton as former Attorney General Ramsey Clark, who may or may not turn out to be the star witness the defense is banking on.

The flashbacks to the actual riots are powerfully filmed by Sorkin, especially revealing in terms of what it says about Hayden, who is intentionally portrayed as kind of a milquetoast character up to that point. This changes in a major way toward the end, leading into an over-the-top, but still immensely satisfying resolution that seems completely called for whether or not that's how things exactly unfolded in reality. It works for this film, which is really all that matters. 

The elephant in the room is that the timing couldn't be appropriate or strangely uncomfortable, reminding us just how little has actually changed in the decades since. It's no longer a question of whether something like this could happen again, or even worse. It has and is. That thought never really leaves you as these events unfold, holding up a mirror to a very specific time and place in our culture and political climate that still very much resonates. It's an unpredictably wild trip, and even if you know how it all pans out, it's difficult to still not become enraptured in the proceedings and eventual fallout for these characters. Of course, so much of that impact stems from the fact that it's wrestling with issues still haven't been fully resolved over half a century later.

Parkland

Director: Peter Landesman
Starring: Zac Efron, Marcia Gay Harden, Billy Bob Thornton, Jacki Weaver, Paul Giamatti, James Badge Dale, Ron Livingston, David Harbour, Tom Welling, Jeremy Strong, Mark Duplass, Gil Bellows, Colin Hanks, Jackie Earle Haley
Running Time: 93 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)
  
In the midst of the media coverage surrounding the half-century anniversary of the Kennedy assassination, I caught this news program that talked about how miraculous it was that Abraham Zapruder was able to keep his 8mm camera steady on the President's limo for over 26 seconds when the shots rang out. It was one of those facts I always knew was amazing but never seriously contemplated. How did he do that? And why isn't it a bigger story? Writer/director Peter Landesman's Parkland is all about details just like that. Details that have unfortunately been tossed aside in favor of speculating on a myriad of unproven conspiracy theories for the past few decades. This is finally the movie about everything else. The really important stuff no one focuses on, which only makes it that much more frustrating that critics have so casually dismissed it.

In recounting the surreal and chaotic events that took place in Dallas following the assassination, the biggest worry was that this could become another Bobby, Emilio Estevez's overtstuffed historical ensemble piece that turned RFK's killing into a goofy game of "spot the star," as an impressive cast participated in what merely amounted to a large-scale soap opera. There's none of that here, as a similarly stacked ensemble is comprised mostly of character actors who slide invisibly into their roles in a manner similar to real life people they've been chosen to portray. It's as if Landesman knows this is a topic that's been explored to death on film and TV, but usually in the most obvious and uninteresting ways possible. He responds with a take that's legitimately different, gripping and informative. That the most powerful story and performance rests in the hands of a lesser known actor playing a person few know even existed, speaks volumes.

Based on Vincent Bugliosi's book, "Reclaiming History: The Assassination of President John F. Kennedy," the movie depicts the events of November 22, 1963 from a number of perspectives. The doctors and nurses at Parkland Memorial Hospital who tended to the fatally wounded President. Secret Service chief Forrest Sorrels (Billy Bob Thornton). JFK's security detail. The FBI. Lee Harvey Oswald's guilt-ridden brother Robert (James Badge Dale). And of course Dallas-based clothing manufacturer Abraham Zapruder (Paul Giamatti), who was at Dealey Plaza unwittingly capturing the entire horrific event on film with his home movie camera. With a sweep this broad and the story examined from so many angles, there was a real risk of this being an unfocused mess, but those fears are put to rest with an opening half-hour that generates an almost nauseating level of suspense while visualizing disturbing details we've only heard about the shooting's immediate aftermath. And many we haven't.

Much of the action occurs in the Parkland where Kennedy arrives without a pulse or breathe sounds, but a weak heartbeat. Describing him as barely "alive," upon arrival would be using the loosest possible definition of the word, but first-year surgical resident Dr. Jim Carrico, almost by chance, is handed the unenviable duty of resucitating him. Joining him is head nurse Doris Nelson (Marcia Gay Harden) and eventually Dr. Malcolm Perry (Colin Hanks). Carrico's played by Zac Efron, subverting expectations by not only disappearing into the part, but doing surprisingly well in an emotionally gut-wrenching sequence. The look on his face when he realizes who's been brought in and what happened is priceless. I'd say it's the moment of the movie, if not for the five or six other ones that could reasonably compete with it.

Seamlessly incorporating actual news footage within the film, the events of the day are so detailed and chaotic it almost feels as if this is a handheld docudrama unfolding in real time, taking us along for the ride while managing to somehow sidestep tired recreations of famous scenes. The approach  even extends to the depictions of JFK (Brett Stimely) and Jackie (Kat Steffens), whose faces are covered through much of the proceedings. Until they're not. Jackie obviously has more to do, but Landesman wisely casts a complete unknown, sparing her any added pressure as she grieves on the sidelines, rarely taking center stage. This is more frightening because it reflects the First Lady's marginalization by the Secret Service as they switch their allegiance to new President, Lyndon Johnson (Sean McGraw), who was, by all accounts--no matter your opinion of him politically-- a class act in the days immediately following the tragedy.

The President's story, and the country's, is told through these seemingly ordinary people in Dallas, at times playing as if it were an post-assassination procedural, illuminating under-reported facts. Like Robert Oswald's quite, ashamed belief in his brother's guilt the very minute he hears the news of his arrest. Torn between Lee's actions and their lunatic mother Marguerite (Jacki Weaver) looking to cash in, an Oscar-worthy James Badge Dale does the unthinkable in actually earning sympathy for a family member of Lee Harvey Oswald. His inability to obtain a proper burial for the man who killed the President is understandable, but not as understandable as no one willing to provide one. When Robert comes face-to-face with his emotionless brother, he sees what we do: a monster. Besides baring a shocking physical resemblance to Oswald, actor Jeremy Strong's speech pattern and mannerisms are so frighteningly accurate that it comes as a relief only a single scene is spent with him. Any more would probably be too sickening to take. 

Just about the only character as guilt ridden as Oswald's brother is Zapruder, played by an unsurprisingly terrific Paul Giamatti. Burdened with footage he never wanted, we finally get an inside look into how and where that 8 mm film developed and the ensuing negotiation with Life magazine for it's release to the public. While it may be hard to classify anyone as a "hero" under circumstances like this, Zapruder definitely comes closest, and Giamatti navigates the Dallas business owner's battle to rid himself of the footage while still insuring the Kennedys aren't exploited. As it turns out, the right magazine got it, and when it was time to publish the pictures, they did it the right way. And years later, when it was time to let the footage go, they managed to take the high road again. We wouldn't have been so lucky today. One of the most shattering scenes is when we finally get to view Zapruder's famous home movie along with him, reflected through the eyes of the man who filmed it.

Guilt and responsibility is what ties all these characters together. For Secret Service head Sorrels, played by Billy Bob Thornton, it's the realization that the President was lost on his watch. For FBI agent James Hosty (Ron Livingston) it's the lost opportunity of having Oswald in his office and leaving threatening notes just weeks before the assassination. It's a nearly unrecognizable Tom Welling as Secret Service agent Roy Kellerman, trying to drag Kennedy's corpse out of Parkland against the medical examiner's wishes to perform an immediate autopsy. What's fascinating about the scene is how Kellerman seems like the hero protecting the Kennedy family while the medical examiner comes off as a clueless twit. History would prove who the real twit was. The body should have stayed in Dallas. And how about the Secret Service barely being able to fit the casket on the plane. It would be unbelievable if it wasn't all completely true, making this the only movie about this tragedy that should probably come with an accompanying spoiler warnings.

While recognizing anyone's interest in Parkland goes only as far as their interest in the actual event and I was easy to please, this is a topic that's been poorly handled. The most recent hatchet job being the Killing Kennedy TV movie, which depicted the tragedy as a cross between an unfunny SNL skit and a cheap crime show reenactment. 2011's superb The Kennedys miniseries came closest to doing the tragedy justice, while still serving as only part of a much larger story. Oliver Stone's JFK is undeniably masterful filmmaking, but it's not about the actual assassination so much as our theories about the potential conspiracies surrounding it, which look less believable by the day due to the lack of any concrete evidence. Our desire to keep looking stems mostly from the refusal to associate such a pivotal event with a nobody like Oswald. But conspiracies are boring compared to the actual truth surrounding ordinary people who had to react to an extraordinary event they were unprepared to be a part of. But calling this the best film made yet about the Kennedy assassination isn't completely accurate. So far, it's the only film that's actually been made about it.