Showing posts with label Laura Dern. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Laura Dern. Show all posts

Monday, February 10, 2020

Burning Questions from the 2020 Oscars




Do you cringe in fear each year wondering how they'll open the show?

Did this not disappoint?

When Janel Monae walked onto the Mr. Rogers set, did you think ABC was staging another one of their live primetime reenactments?

Did she just really dress up as the May Queen from Midsommar?

Did Midsommar really just get a musical tribute at the Oscars?

Is this actually happening?

Can you pinch me now, please?

Should I take everything back I ever said about the Oscars?

Did most of the audience at home probably have no clue what the hell was happening?

Why aren't they showing Florence Pugh's reaction?! 

Shouldn't Midsommar have been nominated for...everything?

Or at the very least, costume and production design?

Is this the next best thing?

Can you believe I didn't review it?

Shouldn't we rectify that?

Or at least the best thing since Michael J. Fox showed up with Seth Rogen in a DeLorean?

Weren't those also costumes from Dolemite, Queen and Slim and Us?

Noticing a pattern?

Could the Academy possibly be apologizing for something?

Shouldn't Chris Rock be announced as the star of the upcoming Saw spinoff?

Did you remember Regina King won last year?

And for what?

Wasn't Brad's speech kind of a downer?

Impeachment hearings...really?

Were you thinking, "wait until Joaquin takes the stage?"

Did you know this was Pitt's second Oscar?

And that the other was for producing Moonlight?

Will an animated feature ever be nominated for Best Picture again?

First of many Kobe mentions?

Are Star Wars fans still whining about Kelly Marie Tran?

After delivering that line about reloading Keanu's Matrix, should we blame them?

Shouldn't he have been introduced as the star of the upcoming Bill and Ted Face the Music?

Did we just hear Keanu read the Parasite script?

And wasn't that awesome?

Does any movie have more heat behind it right now than Parasite?

Are you glad they chose the Joker stair scene as its screenplay clip?

Is Taika Waititi the first director playing Hitler in his own movie to win a screenplay Oscar?

Shouldn't Shia LeBouf been nominated for Best Supporting Actor for Honey Boy?

Isn't it The Neighbor's WINDOW?

Do you think the winners even care?

The Conners is still on?

Wasn't rewarding Once upon a Time in Hollywood's incredible production design the absolute right call?

Weren't Maya Rudolph and Kristin Wiig kind of insufferable?

Didn't it look like Billie Eilish agreed? 

Well, at least Greta Gerwig kind of won something...right?

Is Chrissy Metz delivering an Adelegram?

Tony Hawk?!

Is Florence Pugh the new Jennifer Lawrence?

Anyone surprised by Laura Dern's win?

Did you think "this is probably gonna be good" when she took the stage?

And wasn't it?

What if I told you five years ago you'd hear, "I'd like to thank Netflix" during an Oscar acceptance speech? 

After pitching a perfect 11 for 11 Oscar game so far, was I instructing no one to speak to me in the dugout?

Isn't it surprising they haven't done a movie song montage before?

Not a question but...La Bamba!

Didn't you just know I'd mention Huey Lewis and the News' brilliant "The Power of Love" from Back to the Future?

Is Eminem really on stage right now performing "Lose Yourself?"

Isn't it one of the best choices ever for Original Song?

Isn't that Mekhi Phifer line great?

Isn't it a shame they bleeped out three quarters of the song?

Didn't Scorsese look confused?

Wasn't it interesting to discover who in the audience were Eminem fans?

Am I looking at YOU, Brie Larson and Gal Gadot?

Isn't it fitting one of those damned sound categories ruined my streak?

Has anyone's scorecard ever survived those categories?

Am I kind of relieved I missed one?

Can I breathe now?

Doesn't Randy Newman have just the right voice for the types of songs he performs?

Does that make him the Bob Dylan of movie soundtracks?

Shouldn't Julia Louis Dreyfuss and Will Ferrell host (if we still had hosts)?

Are they rushing through the categories so quickly that it's becoming difficult to tell which they are?

It took this long to open an Academy museum?

Haven't they been talking about it for the past twenty telecasts?

Not a question but...Zazie Beetz!!

Doesn't "making good time" seem to be a top priority on this year's telecast?

Are you hoping that doesn't tastelessly apply to the In Memoriam segment?

Shouldn't we have known Rebel Wilson and James Corden would come out dressed as Cats?

Did those costumes look better than the CGI in the movie?

Did Sandra Oh just take a dig at Netflix?

Wait, did those makeup artists really just win an Oscar for "transforming" Charlize Theron, Margot Robbie and Nicole Kidman into beautiful blonde Fox News anchors?

Did that International Feature Film award just insure that Bong Joon Ho won't be returning to the podium later?

Why should the best foreign and animated films be jettisoned off into their own categories?

Can you believe that song was Rocketman's sole nomination?

Remember when Taron Egerton was being talked about as a serious Best Actor contender?

Does anyone under the age of 55 still watch American Idol?

Is it strange that I haven't heard of Taika Waititi until this year?

After that whole intro, didn't you just know who'd be winning Best Original Score?

Has there ever been two more intrinsically linked creative collaborators than Elton John and Bernie Taupin?

When Bong Joon Ho was somewhat shockingly announced as Best Director, did you become a little less sure Parasite wasn't winning the big one?

Wasn't it cool of him give shout-outs to Scorsese and Tarantino?

Doesn't seem like we just saw Billie Eilish on an awards show, like last weekend?

Wasn't that a haunting "Yesterday" cover?

Um, Luke Perry? 

Has this show moved at a fast clip or what?

Are we getting used to this no host thing?

Remember when Olivia Colman beat Glenn Close for Best Actress last year?

Did Colman's likability just remind us why?

Were you wondering which Joaquin Phoenix we'd get tonight?

Did you soon realize we'd be getting shy, nervous, babbling Joaquin?

As far as cause speeches go, wasn't it at least a little less painful than you expected?

How many Oscars would River Phoenix have by now?

Who ever thought we'd see Renee Zellweger on that stage again...accepting an Oscar?

Do you remember her talking with that much of a twang?

Am I the only one who still thinks Anne Hathaway could crush it as Judy Garland?

Who's that woman they introduced as Jane Fonda?

How many years in a row can I miss Best Picture?

Does this win mean that everyone can hate on Parasite now?

Are 1917 tribute sites popping up online as we speak?

Does this prove Parasite was so good that even the Academy couldn't deny it?

Were they really going to close the curtain on them?

Did you see Tom Hanks and Charlize Theron's reactions to it?

At this hour, who even cares how long they go?

Haven't they done a decent job condensing the telecast and moving it along these past two years?

Was anyone watching to notice?

Isn't it great to have a Best Picture winner that everyone actually seems to love?

Who thought the the Oscars could ever end before midnight?

Sunday, December 22, 2019

Marriage Story




Director: Noah Baumbach
Starring: Adam Driver, Scarlett Johansson, Laura Dern, Alan Alda, Ray Liotta, Azhy Robertson, Julie Haggerty, Merritt Wever, Mark O' Brien, Mickey Sumner, Wallace Shawn
Running Time: 136 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

Noah Baumbach's Marriage Story opens with a husband and wife each running down a list of the qualities they most admire in their spouse. It goes on for what seems to be about 10 minutes, as we basically learn everything there is to know about each of them as the other supplies a voice-over narration. You're hanging on their every word while watching what amounts to a brief distillation of their everyday lives and basking in the small, everyday details that tell you everything you need to know about these people. And they're both really likable. Smart, funny, ambitious and best of all, they seem like good parents. For a while, you even forget that the other shoe's about to drop, before realizing they're in a therapist's office on the cusp of a divorce, speaking the last nice words we'll hear from them for the rest of the film. Either to or about one another.

From a legal standpoint, this film is probably the most thorough look at the bitter dissolution of a marriage since Kramer vs. Kramer, to which it's already been endlessly and favorably compared. That it comes from Noah Baumbach is of little surprise since every film he writes and directs feels like the kind of project Woody Allen's been failing to make for the past twenty years. If that's the case, then this is Baumbach's Annie Hall, or easily his richest since The Squid and the Whale, which also looked at the nasty fallout from divorce. Few are better chroniclers of human behavior, with an innate ability to zero in on characters' flaws and quirks in ways both dramatically profound and comical.

This is one of his finer examples yet, as he doesn't once step wrong in his depiction of perfectly nice people destroying each other because the system is set up in such a way that they must. Growing apart. Irreconcilable differences. Whatever you want to call it, both go into this process with the noblest, sincerest of intentions before realizing some things must be left up to lawyers and the courts because the whole reason they separated is that they can't agree on gigantic life decisions. Soon, everything's up to the courts and it's a grudge match. Mom vs. Dad.  Los Angles vs. New York. Even Television vs. Broadway.

Successful New York theater director Charlie Barber (Adam Driver) and his wife, former teen movie actress Nicole (Scarlett Johansson) are at a crossroads. Charlie wants them to stay in the New York to raise their 8-year old son, Henry (Azhy Robertson) as he finalizes plans to take his latest production to Broadway, but Nicole wants to head back home to L.A. after being offered a big role in a television pilot. After starring in his plays and raising the profile of his theater company, she's ready to do something for herself and translate this newfound credibility as a stage actress into a Hollywood comeback. It's credibility Charlie feels she wouldn't have if not for the opportunity he gave her, feeling she owes him and the company to stay, frequently putting off any talk of a potential west coast move.

When it becomes clear Nicole's going to L.A., and maybe even staying, with or without him, they separate, determined to amicably divorce without the involvement of lawyers. But when Nicole stays in California with Henry and hires flashy attorney Nora Fanshaw (Laura Dern) to represent her, Charlie's forced to lawyer up himself, having to choose between sleazy, money-hungry Jay Marotta (Ray Liotta) and kind, retired family attorney, Bert Spitz (Alan Alda) in his effort to take his son back to New York. The war is on, with Charlie and Nicole doing saying things that would have seemed unimaginable only a few months earlier. And now they must decide how much they're willing to hurt each other to get what they want, rarely stopping to consider the permanent damage it could be inflicting on their family.

Baumbach does such an exceptional job establishing how far these two have drifted in what seems like a relatively short time, but has been building far longer. While spouses working together may seem like the perfect recipe for marital disaster, it's oddly Nicole's desire to take her career in another direction and Charlie's unwillingness to make certain sacrifices for it that lead to trouble. What's scary is how both initially tackle their separation from a superficially understanding place until they realize the stakes and get attorneys involved. Nicole's mother, Sandra (a delightfully flighty Julie Haggerty) and sister Cassie (Merritt Wever) are so against her divorcing Charlie you'll wonder whose side they're on, leading to a hilarious scene where the latter is roped into clumsily serving him the actual papers. And it makes sense they'd be on his side. He's a good father, seemingly well-liked by everyone and admired by his peers in an industry where people depend on him for his intelligence and creativity.

Charlie's someone who's used to getting what he wants but what makes Driver's performance so inventive is how he hides that while simultaneously being all about it when Charlie's called out. The actor has two or three huge scenes that are so perfectly calibrated in that they make all the other scenes and performances around it better, while occupying residency in your mind long after the credits roll. The most memorable is essentially an inverse of the film's opening, as Charlie and Nicole, now suddenly in the throes of an ugly visitation battle, scream insults at each another until he eventually crosses the line, collapsing in tears on the floor realizing what he's just said. Her reaction is equally shocking, highlighting just how complicated this whole thing is, as well as how few relationship dramas dare even going to these uncomfortably realistic places.

In another scene that's both hilarious and pathetically relatable, a visit from a court-appointed social worker (played by Martha Kelly) to observe Charlie with Henry turns into a complete fiasco, as his insistence in proving everything's fine just further compounds the problem, resulting in an embarrassing medical emergency that Baumbach and the Driver couldn't have juggled any better. There's also an emotionally gut-wrenching musical number late in the film that comes seemingly out of nowhere and everywhere at once, delivering all the more magnificently because of it, with Driver stripping down Charlie's pain and bewilderment in the most public of venues, his hurt exposed for all to witness.

While everone's justifiably raving about Driver's work, Johansson might have the tougher job in a considerably less showy role, with Nicole in constant danger of being classified as the bitchy antagonist in Charlie's story. Of course, doing that simplifies the film's many complexities and the real problem at hand, or at least part of it. That she feels written out of her own life, taking action for the first time and doing what she wants instead of depending on him for support or approval that may never come. Right or wrong, it's this distrust that causes her to lawyer up in a big way. There's no way to determine how much of Johansson's success here stems from playing an actress and channeling some of the creative difficulties in that industry, but rarely has she fit a role as well as  Nicole.

Johansson's provided strong support by Laura Dern, whose feisty attorney Nora Fanshaw represents what she wants: complete autonomy in her life and career. Dern really takes care of business, bolstering what would otherwise be a forgettable role by taking charge of every scene and moment in which she appears. Liotta, and especially Alda, deliver in smaller doses, even if their characters seem to represent certain "types" of lawyers working within the system. Ironically enough, the performance that's gone most underpraised comes from Azhy Robertson as Henry, the young boy caught in the middle of this mess, and seeming fully aware that something's happening with his parents, even if he's not quite old enough to qualify exactly what. He shows his frustration in oddly specific ways that register both big and small, looking upon their situation with an honest, plain-spoken curiosity his parents could probably learn a lot from if they listened. But that's the point. No one can listen.

It's no secret that Baumbach's script is at least semi-autobiographical, making it easier to argue he stacks the deck in Charlie's favor, even if an equally compelling case can be made that Nicole gets exactly what she wants. But the very idea of "winning" and "losing" does very much cut to the crux of what this does end up being about, whether or not the characters ever wanted it that way. Evidence suggested they didn't, but like so many couples breaking up, got caught up in the tide. Because of this, Marriage Story feels bigger than both of them, zeroing in on the fact that most relationships end long before any legal proceedings are underway. And if these two couldn't make it, who can? The end suggests compromise might be possible, but not without a whole lot of pain. The real accomplishment is that we somehow walk away still liking and relating to both of them, while laughing at the absurdity of it all the entire time. It's a nearly impossible balancing act, but one made to look easy by the caliber of talent involved.

Monday, January 15, 2018

Star Wars: The Last Jedi



Director: Rian Johnson
Starring: Mark Hamill, Carrie Fisher, Adam Driver, Daisy Ridley, John Boyega, Oscar Isaac, Andy Serkis, Lupita Nyong'o, Domhnall Gleeson, Anothony Daniels, Gwendoline Christie, Kelly Marie Tran, Laura Dern, Frank Oz, Benicio del Toro
Running Time: 152 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

**Warning: The Following Review Contains Major Plot Spoilers.**

From the moment it was announced George Lucas would be selling LucasFilms to Disney and we'd be getting the inconceivable pipe dream of actual sequels to the original Star Wars trilogy, it was basically a given they'd be able to creatively surpass the wretched prequels. But hopes remained high that they'd go even further and really get it right, and after selecting J.J. Abrams' as the franchise's caretaker and an enormously successful reintroduction with 2015's The Force Awakens, there was finally reason for fans to celebrate. But there was just one more thing. And it's everything.

If few characters in cinema's history have had a greater influence on pop culture than Luke Skywalker, it's also fair to concede an actor has never gotten as little credit as Mark Hamill. He's why we're here, and watching Harrison Ford denounce his involvement all these years only served as a reminder that Hamill never complained once, instead appreciating the adulation of his fans and in knowing the only role he'll be known for is at least a great one. While it's difficult to call any aspect of the already highly praised original trilogy overlooked or underappreciated, if forced to choose, it's his performance.

With the promise of sequels also came the promise of something fans like myself have been waiting decades for: Hamill playing Luke as the older, grizzled Jedi Master. Under the best circumstances,  he'd be as instrumental to The Last Jedi as Sir Alec Guinness was to A New Hope as Ob-Wan. With age and experience on his side and a director as uniquely talented as Rian Johnson at the controls,, Hamill would be put in a position to do the work of his career. What I couldn't have anticipated was descriptors like "controversial" and "polarizing" being attributed to any Star Wars installment that doesn't have George Lucas' name attached. Or more specifically, that the controversy would primarily surround Hamill and his return to this iconic role.

The Last Jedi is not The Empire Strikes Back of this series, nor should that have been the expectation. But it is something a Star Wars movie hasn't been in a while, if not ever: Completely unpredictable. Both for better and worse. It is the most visually arresting installment in many moons, while containing a certain degree of depth and complexity uncommon to the franchise, especially at this point. In other words, it doesn't feel as if Johnson was just hired for a job, which was probably one of the bigger fears going in. Unfortunately, mitigating these flashes of brilliance is that it's overstuffed, overplotted and, at over two and a half hours, a bit bloated. There's enough plot here to jam into ten movies, but all anyone will want to talk about is what happens with Luke. And that's fair, since it's about time he gets some attention.

When we last left Rey (Daisy Ridley), she had arrived with Chewbacca and R2-D2 on the remote island of Ahch-To to convince the self-exiled Luke Skywalker (Hamill) to join the Resistance in their fight against the tyrannical First Order. But it'll be harder than anticipated, as she discovers a bitter, grizzled recluse who's denounced all Jedi teachings after Han and Leia's son, Ben Solo, turned to The Dark Side under his tutelage, only to reemerge as the vindictive Kylo Ren (Adam Driver). Now it's Ren who sees himself capable of recruiting Rey to his side, as Luke fears history could be repeating itself.

Meanwhile, Resistance General Leia Organa (Carrie Fisher) and pilot Poe Dameron Oscar Isaac) are trapped on a transport ship surrounded by a First Order battle fleet targeting their rebel base, as per the orders of Supreme Leader Snoke (Andy Serkis). This is as Stormtrooper turned Resistance fighter Finn (John Boyega), joins Poe, BB-8, and mechanic Rose Tico (Kelly Marie Tran), to embarks on a mission to infiltrate one of their ships and disable their tracking device. The First Order, however, have other plans.

There are about four or five main plots and sub-plots unfolding simultaneously throughout Rian Johnson's script, close to half a dozen huge battle sequences and such a surplus of characters both new and old that you'll need a chart to track it all. Historically, the most successful Star Wars entries are the tightest and most streamlined, narrowing its focus on a few key characters embroiled in a struggle between good and evil. It was that template Lucas introduced in 1977, until with each succeeding effort the universe expanded, the backstories grew deeper and more complicated, and now with Episode VIII, the consequences of that excess are finally reflected in the actual running time of the film. This isn't your father's Star Wars and it might even be the first to fully incorporate the Marvel influence, as the only possible explanation for a universe this packed is Disney looking ahead to spin-offs and sequels.

Injecting the material with his own vision in a way the safer Abrams didn't in The Force Awakens, Johnson manages to heavily diverge from instituted tenants of the franchise while still being somewhat hamstrung by certain requirements. The result is a fascinatingly mixed bag of greatness and frustration that's all about looking ahead, serving as a swan song for classic characters and seriously testing the loyalty of even the most ardent fans who receive what could be their final nostalgia fix. By its end, the most important question surrounds whether enough has been done with the newer characters to get them to the point that they're ready to take over. And the biggest surprise coming out of this is that the time has apparently now arrived, whether we're ready or not.

Much of the gargantuan running time is taken up in the first half by a lot of narrative set-up and an exciting opening battle sequence that lays the cards on the table in terms of what to expect from the Resistance's plan to topple the First Order. Little would we know that the rest of the picture is going to be spent subverting those expectations. While it's easy to quibble that nearly all of these battle scenes could have used a trim and they do employ a good deal more CGI than its predecessor, they're staged impressively by Johnson and Abrams' mandate of incorporating more practical effects has mostly held.

Like its predecessor, the world continues to look dirty and lived-in, the creatures seem authentic and the locations look like actual places rather than actors standing in front of green screens. While most aren't completely incorrect in pointing to the film's middle portion involving Finn and Rose at Canto Bight as lagging the most, there is a larger "Let's do that. Well, that didn't work. So let's try this." repetition to the whole Resistance storyline, often causing the narrative to take an extra step or two in getting where it's going. Whether that's something that would be ironed out in a second viewing remains to be seen, but what's undeniable are that characters are given a chance to shine, even as others are inevitably marginalized.

Anyone who came exclusively for Chewbacca, R2-D2 or C3PO may as well head for the exits since they're given what amounts to extended cameos, save for maybe Chewy who does share a cleverly humorous scene opposite the now infamous Porgs. Most of the comedy in the script works really well, coming off as as natural and unforced as it ever has, especially when it comes to anything involving Domhnall Gleeson's put-upon General Hux, with the actor actually in on the joke this time around.

Despite General Leia Organa spending much of the film's first half incapacitated, the late Carrie Fisher, as promised, is given a substantial role this time around, even as each of her scenes carry a  certain weight in wondering if it's her last. As the glue that holds the Resistance together, she makes her additional screen time count and becomes far more instrumental to the story than most predicted. Even when not on screen, the character's a presence and Johnson crafts a far more emotionally fitting send-off for the actress than that jarring non-appearance as a CGI avatar at the end of Rogue One. Oddly, this wasn't a send-off for the character, who strangely survives through the end of the film despite numerous opportunities to rather easily write her out. Talk about a surprise.     


In a successfully odd and inspired bit of casting, a purple-haired Laura Dern steps in as Leia's temporary surrogate Admiral Holdo, more than holding her own in this universe and proving to be strongest of the new additions. Her casual but stern demeanor plays well against Oscar Isaac's hotheaded pilot, Poe Dameron,who has a more developed arc than you'd expect, undergoing a transformation throughout that puts the character in a more intriguing place than simply the "hero" role he played in the last film. In fact, one of the better, overlooked aspects of Johnson's screenplay is that at least most of the major characters have clearly identifiable arcs, even amidst all the quibbling as to where some of those lead.

The only important character who takes a noticeable drop-off in importance is Finn who, through no fault of John Boyega's, can't help but feel like an expendable accessory following the purposeful, spirited introduction he had in The Force Awakens with his engaging fish-out-of-water plot. His one moment comes in a lightsaber duel with Gwendoline Christie's Captain Phasma, who's quickly emerged as the new Boba Fett by being a relatively minor character whose popularity can be attributed to a really cool costume.

While Finn still has some interesting interplay with Benicio del Toro's stuttering codebreaker, DJ, being separated from Rey hurts him the most since so much of his impact inthe previous film came in those scenes opposite her. But even taking into account my reservations about the ultimate purpose it serves in the film's final scene, the Canto Bight excursion is a really fun detour in the vain of A New Hope's Cantina, and Kelly Marie Tran's Rose is a fun, spunky new character who unfortunately seems marked for death the second she appears.

That Rose doesn't perish should be a shock, if only we cared. And that's the biggest problem. The plot that eats up the most amount of running time feels like a placeholder as we we wait to return to one of the most well-written, directed and performed storylines in the franchise's history. In fact, it's so superior to the other aspect of this production that it superficially magnifies even the tiniest flaws with everything else. There isn't a moment when Finn and Rose are on screen when you're not wondering when they're going to get back to Kylo, Luke and Rey.

In a storyline brimming with possibilities, Luke's training of Rey, and both their relationships to Kylo Ren/Ben Solo, is masterfully executed, taking us back to the classic template of the original Star Wars trilogy in a way no film has managed since. With more considerably more mileage and experience behind him now, Hamill brings an undeniable gravitas to the role of Luke that wasn't there before, and despite many complaining about the character becoming a grouch or turning his back on the ways of the Jedi, it make sense. As does his distrust of Rey, who he believes will eventually betray him as Ben Solo did. Of course, we find out that's not completely true through a series of brilliant Rashomon-style flashbacks that present three different perspectives on the inciting event that caused the creation of Kylo Ren. It's really the first time the audience has been seriously challenged to question Luke's morality, and it's a testament to both Hamill and Driver's performances that we are.

With two sides to the same story and the truth landing somewhere in the middle, true nail-biting suspense is built up in finding out whether Rey or Ben will turn to the other side, as each attempts to flip the other. With Rey's calling to the Dark Side ringing louder and more believably than ever (resulting in an unforgettable sequence involving mirror images) while Ben internalizes Snoke's disappointment at his apparent softening due to the guilt of killing his father and lingering attachment to his mother.

What's most clever about all this is how it works on a number of meta levels by having Snoke acknowledge fan criticisms of Kylo Ren as a Vader wannabe and being defeated by the inexperienced Rey in the last film. She and Ben clearly share a strong, unspoken bond that goes beyond being mere adversaries, communicating telepathically as he tries to seduce her into seeing the world his way and vice versa. So palpable is their chemistry, you start to wonder whether they're literally seducing one another, as there's this sexual undercurrent to their relationship that uncomfortably brings to mind the fact we're still unaware of Rey's lineage.

Johnson has fun teasing us with Rey's parentage and playing with fears that the two will be revealed as siblings before pulling the rug out. It comes as a relief when it's revealed that she's essentially a nobody, not only because the idea that everyone has to be genetically linked is patently ridiculous, but it gives Ben another card to play in claiming he's the only one who sees her as a "somebody." It's with all this to unpack that Rey and Kylo Ben eventually arrive in Snoke's blood red Throne Room for their moment of reckoning in a sequence that draws heavily from the legendary Vader turn at the conclusion of Return of the Jedi. But it's an important distinction to make that Johnson doesn't try to duplicate it in any way, as the battle feels as if it belongs entirely to this film, with his writing and direction at a level that more appropriately earns a comparison to Luke's and Vader's Cloud City confrontation in Empire.

While it's hard to overstate how much Ridley and Driver wring out of each other and the material, the CG presentation of the creepy, frightening Snoke only helps their cause, far surpassing Andy Serkis' unsuccessful holographic cameo in Episode VII. Not only does The Throne Room scene closes with a shockingly unprecedented moment of brutality for the franchise that turns the story upside down. Or does it?  With neither willing to give in or back down to the others' beliefs, Rey and Ben find themselves back at exactly where they started: On opposite sides. It's now Luke who must face down his ultimate challenge in Kylo Ren. Getting that character to the point where he's at Vader level didn't seem like a possibility a film ago, but now thanks to Driver and the writing, he's alarmingly close. And with Ridley further building on the already solid foundation built for Rey, she stands on her own in a way she didn't a film prior. So while it seems as if the story merely reset itself, it's with characters internally transformed by what's happened here. 

The concept of the Force, which has fluctuated wildly in use and explanation throughout the series, is strongly presented and examined here, lacking in the occasional ridiculousness of previous entries. It's made clear that Rey hasn't yet mastered it and why, and Yoda's holographic appearance from beyond the grave is at least partially successful in so far as looking less like the computerized abomination we saw in the prequels, if still not exactly resembling the iconic Frank Oz creation we all loved from Empire.

While getting the climactic showdown we've always wanted with a seemingly invincible Luke battling Kylo Ren on the red-soiled planet Crait, it comes with a major caveat. Luke's Force projection takes the dive, as his physically spent body remains on Ahch-To, exiting the series as he entered it: Staring into the sunset, before disappearing for good. Taken at face value, I actually don't have a huge problem with Luke sacrificing himself to insure a future for the Resistance and the eventual title character.

Skywalker's arc came to its logical conclusion while Hamill delivers the dark, conflicted performance we've always wished for, becoming the film's centerpiece and beating heart, but in a far different manner than in the original trilogy. The final moment he shares with Leia can be seen as the ultimate symbolic gesture that the franchise is moving forward without them. Almost as sure an indication as a bitter Luke tossing his lightsaber was of Johnson's intentions to completely deconstruct this universe.

What's potentially problematic is a franchise without Han, Luke and Leia, and betting the new characters are ready to move to the forefront. Two of them surely are, while the jury's still out on the rest. That, along with pacing and editing issues, is where the film flounders most. And yet, while the sum of its parts is arguably greater than the whole, it's too sprawling and ambitious to not have staying power. There's nothing "average" about it, as it visually stuns while deepening the characters and mythology. Rian Johnson did his job. It wasn't to send every hardcore fan home happy, or take a safe, risk-free route that paves the way for a smooth, predictable Episode IX. It was to shake things up. Be careful what you wish for.     

Saturday, February 11, 2017

The Founder



Director: John Lee Hancock
Starring: Michael Keaton, Nick Offerman, John Carroll Lynch, Linda Cardellini, Patrick Wilson, B.J. Novak, Laura Dern
Running Time: 115 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

When we first meet Ray Kroc, a failed traveling salesman in his early fifties from Illinois, he's peddling industrial milkshake mixers to uninterested restaurant owners. That is until he meets the McDonald brothers, the only two guys crazy enough to buy from him. What happens when Ray goes out to their San Bernadino, California diner in 1954 is not only one of the most memorable sequences in John Lee Hancock's The Founder and the story's catalyst, but a love letter to the power of creativity and amazement. If it was hard to grasp just how revolutionary the concept of McDonald's was at the time, Ray's reaction to getting his burger in 30 seconds in disposable wrapping as families enjoy their meals next to him, tells you all there is to know. You can see and feel exactly why he's so bowled over by it, and watching the scene, you'd be forgiven for thinking it's the greatest idea that ever was. At the time, and even today, there's a lot of truth in that. But an idea is just that until it becomes something more. Something bigger. Ray Kroc liked to think big and after years of hawking bad products, he knew a sure bet when he saw it. What he lacked in creativity he made up for ten times over in persistence and business savvy. A visionary who saw the limitless potential in someone else's concept, he ran with it in a way they couldn't, morality and consequences be damned.

At its core, The Founder really boils down to one question: At what point does an idea become so great that it needs to be shared with the world? And once it is, what's the cost? The answer to that casts a shadow over the film that completely reframes Ray's aforementioned visit to McDonald's Burgers in San Bernardino and his contagious enthusiasm. He was right to do whatever it took to push this through just as the McDonald brothers were in fighting to preserve the integrity of their creation every step of the way. And just as he was wrong to screw them out of what was rightfully theirs, an equally strong case can be made for their inflexibility and resistance to change. And yet the man we see at the end, as ethically compromised as he is, still strangely remains very much the same one we met at the beginning. That's the true genius in Michael Keaton's complicated, unfairly overlooked performance, which already seems destined to go down as one of the most underappreciated of his career.

The arrival of Ray Kroc (Keaton) at McDonald's Burgers represents for Dick (Nick Offerman) and Mac (John Carroll Lynch) and Mac McDonald to correct an opportunity they let slip through their fingers once before. An unsuccessful previous attempt to franchise out their revolutionary fast food burger joint was marred by the challenge of maintaining the same high level of customer service and food quality throughout the chain. Enter Kroc. The brothers are approached, and actually somewhat stalked, by the Prince Castle salesman who's so impressed with their unique business model emphasizing a speedy food delivery service that keeps costs down, he wants to hear their story. And it's a pretty amazing one, as they tell him how they started out in the movie industry before eventually landing in the food service business, which they thought was in serious need of some tweaking. Chalk diagrams on a tennis court provided the blueprints for what would become McDonald's kitchen, with each station serving a specific function in getting quality food to the customer as quickly as possible. No more waiting at drive-ins.

While Dick's heavily skeptical of Ray's interest from the onset, Mac's convinced they finally found the guy that understands their product and can help them fulfill their dreams of expansion. After appealing to their sense of patriotism, envisioning the golden arches side by side with American flags and church steeples across the nation, they reluctantly agree to a deal.  And while it initially does seem to be the perfect match for all involved and Ray makes some smart decisions, the brothers' traditional approach soon clashes with his towering ambition. Mortgaging his home while sacrificing his marriage to wife Ethel (Laura Dern), he continues expansion at a rapid rate, soon realizing this will never work unless he hires the right people and gets out from under the thumb of the brothers, who have him locked in a contract mandating them final say on any new idea he has. In order to succeed Ray will have to get creative, even if the morally questionable moves he makes in the name of business could forever taint his claim as the true "founder" of McDonald's.  

If Ray sees dollar signs the first time he lays eyes on the brothers' establishment, there's also a certain admiration and respect for what they created, as well as a desire to prove to everyone he isn't the failure they believe him to be by shepherding it to greater success. While he likes the brothers, he also knows they're gullible and not businessmen, which could explain why they were presumably taken for a ride in their last attempt to franchise. They need him just as much as he needs them if there's any desire in the brothers to build on their creation. And Ray isn't kidding himself on his own prospects either. He's at an age where this is clearly his last shot and he's already looked at as a joke by he and his wife's country club contemporaries, who can't wait to get in on the action when they realize his latest dream could actually bare financial fruit.

Ray's complete rejection of these rich, retired country clubbers' investment in this franchising when he recognizes their laziness and lack of commitment is probably his finest hour. Seeing him outside the restaurant on his hand and knees cleaning up the trash, more determined than ever to hire those who work and care about quality is the strongest case to be made for him as a decent human being. That, and his willingness to hire anyone from any walk of life (sometimes right off the street) he feels will do a good job is another feather in his cap. And yet Ray is also one of the worst candidates to accumulate such success and wealth at this rapid a rate because he's been beaten down so long. With a chip on his shoulder and something to prove, he's like a kid in a candy store when given just a taste of it. Not only does he roll over the McDonald brothers, he basically discards Ethel at the first sight of Joan (Linda Cardellini), the captivating wife of a franchisee (Patrick Wilson).

Despite knowing the terms when he signed, you could see how the brothers' dismissal of every one of Ray's ideas as crass commercialism or off-brand send him over the deep end. Ray definitely doesn't play fair and surely doesn't care, but while even his more Machiavellian methods could be defended as necessary to getting McDonald's where it needs to go, it doesn't explain the lack of credit or compensation for them once it gets there. He'd explain it away by saying it was business but you can't help but think back to Dick's statement that they "let a wolf in the hen house." Toward the third act of the picture it becomes clear that they may have actually franchised out their company and lives to someone whose business ethics are more closely aligned with Daniel Plainview's from There Will Be a Blood.

The casting of Keaton as Kroc is nothing short of a masterstroke. He's so inherently likable as a scrappy underdog that it could seem incomprehensible he'd take the actions he does later if not for the fact that this is an actor equally skilled at going to those darker, unlikable places. John Lee Hancock (director of The Blind Side and writer of 1993's A Perfect World) hasn't necessarily made a dark film here, but against the bright, nostalgic hue of 1950's America gorgeously photographed by cinematographer John Schwartzman and memorably scored by Carter Burwell, is this undercurrent of greed and avarice. Most of that is provided by Keaton, who has to simultaneously juggle multiple balls in the air playing someone who could have easily been categorized as one-note meglomaniacal businessman in the hands of a lesser performer. We don't sense your typical "transformation," because what happens is exactly what Ray wanted to have happen the second he saw McDonald's Burgers.

That gleam in Keaton's eye was there when he stepped on the lot and it's up to audiences to reconcile that with what comes later. While a specifically memorable shot in the film directly references a key moment in Citizen Kane and while it shares similar themes, a better comparison might be The Social Network, as a rejected outcast finally gets the opportunity to prove himself, hurting those around him on his way to the top. This is Keaton's movie, as it should completely be, but Nick Offerman really shines in his best big screen role to date as the doubting Dick McDonald, who ends up getting sucked into this anyway despite all his initial misgivings about how it could adversely affect his brother's health.

Released with such little promotion and fanfare that few knew it existed at all, it almost seems fitting that the studio behind The Founder is embroiled in a lawsuit over how mismanaged its release actually was, potentially costing Keaton another shot at an Oscar, this time for a performance that certainly would have otherwise gotten awards attention. Someone dropped the ball, which is a shame considering it's exactly the kind of film we need right now, and one of a select few this year that says as much about the times we live in now as the seemingly bygone era during which it took place. Hate or love Ray Kroc, there's no denying that what he did worked and had a serious effect on consumerism and branding all over the world, with its ripples still very much being felt today. How he did it should continue to be fodder for debate. You could say he drank the McDonald brothers' milkshake. And as an added insult, he used powdered milk.
                        

Monday, March 23, 2015

Wild



Director: Jean-Marc Vallée'
Starring: Reese Witherspoon, Laura Dern, Thomas Sadoski, Keene McRae, Micheal Huisma, Gaby Hoffmann, W. Earl Brown, Kevin Rankin, Brian Van Holt, Cliff DeYoung, Charles Baker, Cathryn de Prumn
Running Time: 115 min.
Rating: R

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Sight unseen, the general consensus going into Jean-Marc Vallée's Wild was that it seemed from its trailers and commercials to be another Into The Wild, but with Reese Witherspoon. And while merging one of my favorite films and actresses into a single project should be a sure bet, the constant comparisons instead made me uneasy. The imposing shadow of Sean Penn's 2007 film looms large enough to wonder how this could possibly step out of it when that similar story carries a power few biographical adaptations possess. Based on Cheryl Strayed's 2012 memoir, "Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail," its author and title give away that Strayed survived her journey, one of the details that separates her from Christopher McCandliss. Another is motivation. While he spontaneously left for the wilderness to escape a society he felt was stifling him, both finding and destroying himself in the process, Strayed's purpose was to escape herself and a tragedy with which she couldn't cope.

Unlike McCandliss, who never had any plans to return, Strayed's trip was always meant to be temporary, designed to give her the fuel to rebuild her life and reach a sort of self actualization. Other than that, their trajectories and the films inspired by them are so remarkably similar you'd think their paths crossed. Journal entries, flashbacks, voiceovers. It should be a screenwriting nightmare, but what worked then works again now. With Witherspoon holding us under her spell with her deepest, most meaningful work since winning the Oscar for Walk The Line, it succeeds on its own terms, somehow proving there is room for both. There are surface similarities, but Wild's style and execution sets it apart from any survival story preceding it.

Four years after the death of her mother, Bobbi (Laura Dern), Cheryl Strayed (Witherspoon) makes a decision to hike over a thousand miles of the Pacific Crest Trail to cleanse herself of the mess her life's become following that tragedy. Having cheated on her husband, Paul (Thomas Sadoski) and spiraled into an addictive pattern of drug abuse and promiscuity, she sees the trek as the only way to find the person her mother said she could someday be. And since drifting away from everyone from her life in Minnesota, including younger brother Leif (Keene McRae) and best friend Aimee (Gaby Hoffmann), it'll have to be done alone, braving the elements, but often aided and kept company by the memorable people she meets along the way. Well prepared and powered almost entirely by pure emotion, Cheryl frequently endangers herself to complete the hike, hoping to arrive on the other side with a renewed sense of clarity and purpose that's been absent since her mother's passing.

Rather than going the more expected route of telling Cheryl's backstory then leading up to the actual hike, the film does both at once, intercutting flashbacks of her life within the chronological depiction of the grueling hike. The danger she encounters often comes from unexpected places and people, even if she's seemingly always alert and well-prepared for what could come her way. Perhaps the biggest difference between this and Into The Wild is that Cheryl's rarely flying by the seat of her pants or falls prone to rash decision-making. And while her journey does come off as spontaneous to an extent, it looks to have been meticulously planned out and researched, which is noteworthy considering this takes place in a pre-internet era.

Watching her struggle with a near 60-pound backpack, it's fair to say she's come overprepared, as she finds out in a memorable scene in which a seasoned hiker helps her lose some worthless supplies to cut weight.  It's just the kind of mistake a really smart, but inexperienced person would make and it's in those small details that Nick Hornsby's script is sharpest. You'd hard-pressed to name another film in this genre where we see exactly what supplies are brought, then have them show up later to advance the plot. It also contains a rare instance of justifiable product placement, dispensing revelatory information about a company doing something great that we wouldn't otherwise have known. It doesn't come off as a cheap plug because it's true and worth hearing about. More importantly, we believe this character would react strongly to it.

As much as this is a battle against the elements and an endurance test for Strayed, her biggest fight is being a woman hiking alone. It's a surprisingly big deal, but not at all for the reasons you'd expect and certainly not because the story is some kind of feminist manifesto or fluffy self-help journey like Eat, Pray, Love.  It's important because there's hardly a scene when we're not sitting on pins and needles fearing she'll be raped or sexually assaulted. It may be a controversial observation to make but it's impossible to deny this underlying (sometimes even blatant) threat exists during just about every leg of her journey. Vallée deserves credit for not brushing it under the rug, often making the viewer uncomfortably squirm with each tension-filled encounter. And it's not that he's implying Cheryl can't take of herself, but the dangers of a woman, or anyone, hiking the PCT alone and relying of the kindness of strangers doesn't come without a certain level of risk that requires the traveler to keep their guard up at all times.

Despite only nine years separating Laura Dern and Reese Witherspoon, they're believable as mother and daughter throughout the stages of their characters' lives while also credibly passing for far younger than they actually are. These aren't interchangeable parts that could have been filled by any two actresses that have the chemistry and emotional shorthand they do, which is evident every time (and however briefly) they share the screen together. It's flippant to say any film or performance can really ever "capture" the grueling ordeal or immeasurable loss of losing a parent but these scenes would be brutally raw and uncomfortable watch for anyone.

In an odd way, the role of Cheryl Strayed falls right into Witherspoon's wheelhouse, especially when thinking back to all the tenacious characters she played that demonstrated an almost unfailing resourcefulness and determination. Strayed might be the first widely known hiker to overthink everything, approaching the entire journey overprepared and almost entirely too eager. It's the kind of single-minded dramatic character Reese has unfortunately (pardon the pun) strayed from in recent years, but thankfully revisits in an entirely different and challenging form here.

Those thinking she wouldn't dirty her hands in such a physically and emotionally demanding part is a classic misreading of her strengths, but given the lackluster rom-com projects she's taken over the past few years, you couldn't be blamed. It's fitting that the same director who helped cement Matthew McConaughey's comeback with his Oscar-winning role in Dallas Buyer's Club, succeeds again with Reese, only this time with a film twice as strong. Unlike that, it isn't a one-trick pony worth seeing only for the performances, containing way too much depth and visual splendor to be merely written off anything resembling a conventional biopic.

Dern's brief but impactful presence is both the source of its lightest and darkest moments as she's called upon with sometimes very little dialogue and only passing clips to depict the inner life and philosophy of this free-spirited single mom who isn't without her own flaws. The Oscar-nominated performance is in many ways a smaller-scaled counterpart to Patricia Arquette's winning one in the same category for Boyhood, but with Dern's Bobbi coming across as even more of a carefree hippie feeling her way around being a parent. While the impression will be that Witherspoon's role is a stretch for the actress, it's easy to imagine this character as an extension of Dern's actual personality. And since she delivers so much sincerity with relatively little, this added layer serves to only make her work resonate that much more.

One of my favorite aspects of any film is seeing a vaguely familiar or maybe even completely unknown actor or actress storm in for only a scene or two and just completely nail it, owning the movie in a matter of minutes. Given its narrative structure, Wild lends itself perfectly to such opportunities and doesn't disappoint, with a parade of actors lining up as Cheryl's various hike acquaintances and people from her past and present over the course of just under two hours. There's Kevin Rankin as a fellow hiker, Everclear's Art Alexakis as a tattoo artist and Breaking Bad's "Skinny Pete," Charles Baker, as a potentially dangerous hunter. To give them all away would spoil it, but the amount of cameos and single-scene performances from recognizable (if not necessarily identifiable) faces are seemingly endless. It isn't until Strayed reaches actual civilization in Ashland, Oregon that she really starts to gain perspective on what it all means and we're given as a valuable time marker alerting us of the year this took place. Being completely unfamiliar with the story, I didn't know until that moment.
    
As much as this be talked up as a spiritual journey of redemption, it's as much about failure as anything else since Strayed believes herself to be one as a wife, daughter, friend and sister before taking this adventure. The flashbacks are drenched in tragedy and self-destruction, but the most cathartic scene comes toward the end of the hike, nearly mirroring an equivalently timed breakdown scene that takes place in Into The Wild. It kind of comes out of nowhere, with the culmination of events piling on to hit viewers like a punch to the gut.

Some could have trouble getting into the film's rhythm, as it bucks convention to create a loose, free-flowing narrative in which images and memories flash before us, standing in stark contrast to a strict survival tale that takes us from point A to point B. In a crowded year, Wild went criminally overlooked and underappreciated by those who felt they've seen it before. But it proves to be a thrilling ride that connects on the most basic human level, leaving in its wake a complicated mixture of sadness and triumph.
           

Sunday, September 7, 2014

The Fault in Our Stars



Director: Josh Boone
Starring: Shailene Woodley, Ansel Elgort, Nat Wolff, Laura Dern, Sam Trammell, Willem Dafoe, Lotte Verbeek, Mike Bibiglia
Running Time: 126 min.
PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

There's an affliction that exists in movies often mockingly referred to as "Beautiful Girl Doomed with Cancer" Syndrome. We've seen it enough over the years that it's almost become a running gag. In The Fault in Our Stars, adapted from John Green's bestselling YA novel, Shailene Woodley gives what just might be the best "Beautiful Girl Doomed With Cancer" performance of all-time. And that's not meant sarcastically or as some kind of backhanded compliment. She's wonderful precisely because she so naturally makes us feels like we're never watching one of those. And yet it delivers exactly what the trailers and commercials promised and its book's tween girl fanbase were clamoring for. It's definitely a teen romance through and through. But what's shocking is how this isn't a deal-breaker or even necessarily bad news since it proudly owns that designation while reaching for something more. The movie honestly wears its heart on its sleeve, completely committing to what it wants to do without any fear of coming off sappy or ridiculous.

According to doctors, 16 year-old Hazel Grace Lancaster (Woodley) is on borrowed time. She has been for a while now, suffering from Stage 4 thyroid cancer that's spread to her lungs. While an experimental drug has temporarily improved her quality of life, the simplest of daily activities are difficult. But with a sarcastic sense of humor and a realistic outlook on her condition, she sees herself as anything but a victim. When her mother Frannie (Laura Dern) suggests she attends a cancer patient's support group at a local church to make friends, she meets the charismatic Augustus Waters (Ansel Elgort) a former high school jock whose ongoing battle with osteosarcoma resulted in the loss of his leg.

The two start spending a lot of time together bonding over their favorite books, but despite Augustus' persistence and charms, it's a relationship she insists on keeping platonic, describing herself as a "grenade" ready to go off and destroy anyone who gets too close. But that stance is seriously tested when he provides her with the opportunity to fly to Amsterdam to meet reclusive author Peter van Houten (Willem Dafoe), who wrote her favorite novel, An Imperial Affliction, which centers around a young girl battling cancer. Whether she'll be well enough to even survive the trip and what eventually happens during it defines the relationship between Hazel and Augustus, which is rapidly evolving in ways neither expected.

For much of its first half the film follows a trajectory that would probably be familiar to not just anyone who read the book, but those who have seen any movie about a young person in love battling a terminal illness. But the difference here is that Hazel is unusually well-written and intelligent for a character of this type. She talks openly, humorously and sometimes even sarcastically about how horrible her condition is while maintaining a positive enough outlook that falls on the side of realistic rather than saintly. That's all Woodley's performance. Augustus isn't quite as deeply drawn and could easily be considered a "Manic Pixie Dream Boy," showing up seemingly out of nowhere to sweep Hazel off her feet by saying all the impossibly right things. But Elgort's so likable and the two actors share such incredible chemistry it's difficult for even that to be bothersome.

Their initial courtship is the film's strongest claim to "chick flick" territory with scenes that come off as somewhat cutesy in the moment until the full story later comes into view and they feel completely earned. The turning point is the Amsterdam trip and even some of the events leading up to that regarding Hazel's health. A lesser film would have just glided over the dangers and pitfalls of flying a Stage 4 terminal cancer patient on oxygen overseas. But the screenplay actually spends some time with her parents and doctors examining all the drawbacks, before coming to a reasonable resolution. We know the trip is technically a bad idea and likely impossible, but at least the characters are smart enough to understand that also.

Revealing anything about the jaw-dropping encounter Hazel and Augustus eventually have with her literary hero is giving away too much, but when a successful author's a recluse there's usually a reason why. And most of the time it's bad. Paraphrasing Hazel, Willem Dafoe ends up being the real "grenade" of the story, shifting things in an entirely different direction. The whole van Houten sequence is a legitimate shocker in how uncomfortable and angry it makes the viewer. I was literally squirming in my seat. If that's not enough, it's followed by another surprise that proves to be just as emotionally devastating, but equally well handled. In a rarity, the over two hour run time adds a bit of weight and heft to what could have seemed like a less substantial effort without the breathing room, even if it probably has one more ending than it should.

Woodley's simply a revelation in the role and try as the script might to sometimes take her into syrupy territory, she's having none of it, bringing a realistic vulnerability and toughness to Hazel that sidesteps as many cancer patient movie cliches as it can. With each passing scene she only pulls us in further, likely winning over any cynics who thought she was possibly too old for the role or didn't have the moxy to pull it off. She deserves much more than an MTV Award. Elgort is almost equally strong and in a way he had to overcome more in being thrust into the more obviously "written" part. He not only overcomes it, but creates doubt that Woodley couldn't have done this opposite just anyone else, effectively portraying this young man who isn't as sure of himself as he'd have everyone believe. An actor playing an actor, the only thing we know for sure is that his feelings for Hazel are very real.

It's easy to complain Laura Dern is being relegated to the mother role, but at least it's written and performed in such a way that it never feels like are noses are being rubbed in it. Walking the line between wanting Hazel to have a life and friends but aware of the precautions that need to be taken with her daughter's health, Dern makes her almost impossibly cool and normal without ignoring the emotional pain of the situation. Sam Trammell gets less time in as her dad, Michael, but he's portrayed and performed just as believably. Nat Wolff kind of feels hung out to dry as Augustus' blind best friend, more there as a wisecracking sidekick to provide comic relief amidst the gloom and doom. And it's already established that Dafoe steals the movie in his few, but monumentally pivotal scenes, bringing his trademark creepiness to the last movie you'd expect to find it in.

Indistinctly but efficiently adapted to the screen by relative newcomer Josh Boone, he may have just cashed in his directorial lottery ticket by simply not screwing this up. It's a victory that shouldn't be undersold since the number of ways a disease melodrama can go wrong are endless. Written by the duo of Scott Neustader and Michael H.Weber, this effort comes in a distant third behind their work in (500) Days of Summer and The Spectacular Now, but there's little shame in that considering those were two of the best scripts written about young love while this is somewhat handcuffed by the trappings of a super-popular YA adaptation. But remarkably, that same observational quality about relationships from those films is still very present.     
  
The Fault in Our Stars doesn't exactly go where you'd expect, or at least in the way you'd suspect it to. But it also kind of does. And still, nothing about it really seems juvenile or cloying, even if by every right it should. With a somewhat bizarre structure and a wordless scene near the end that will have you choking back tears, it still has its faults, but even a few of those are converted to strengths thanks to some smart choices and two performers that make everything feel real. They're worth every penny the studio paid them, as it's impossible imagining a similarly successful result with different actors in the roles.