Back to Black

Director: Sam-Taylor-Johnson
Starring: Marisa Abela, Jack O' Connell, Eddie Marsan, Lesley Manville, Juliet Cowan, Sam Buchanan, Pete Lee-Wilson, Thelma Ruby, Matilda Thorpe
Running Time: 122 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)   

In Sam Taylor-Johnson's Amy Winehouse biopic Back to Black, everything clicks into place for the film's lead, who reminds us just how little we do know about the late English singer-songwriter's beginnings. Putting aside what was covered in 2015's acclaimed documentary, Amy, there's a strangeness to initially seeing her without the beehive hair and tattoos that shaped a unique persona matched only by the talent itself. And much of this is found in Marisa Abela's performance, even well before Winehouse skyrockets to worldwide fame. 

The most perplexing aspect of Matthew Greenhalgh's script is how it avoids casting blame for the singer's death, almost hoping we're absorbed enough in her highs and lows to overlook it. Of course, they'll always be skeptics nursing Dewey Cox hangovers and refusing to give any musical biopic the time of day. But as a respectable entry in that detested and mocked genre, this at least focuses on a more contemporary artist whose legacy hasn't yet been exhausted by a myriad of screen dramatizations. And while it's odd referring to an artist whose breakthrough album was released nearly two decades ago as "contemporary," it's at least a designation Winehouse easily earns. 

Raised in a Jewish, musically inclined home by father Mitch (Eddie Marsan) and grandmother Cynthia (Lesley Manville), Amy Winehouse (Abela) is performing at local pubs when her vocal talents catch the attention of manager Nick Shymansky (Sam Buchanan), leading to a contract with Island Records. But prior to her debut album's 2003 release, Amy takes a step back after creatively clashing with the label, soon meeting and falling for charismatic video producer Blake Fielder-Civil (Jack O' Connell). 

Between Amy's alcoholism, bulimia and violent outbursts and Blake's cocaine addiction, their rocky relationship seems doomed from the start. That and an unexpected tragedy provides the groundwork for Amy's universally acclaimed sophomore album, "Back to Black," which catapults her to critical and commercial success. With it come unpleasant consequences, as she spirals into full blown drug addiction that even a stint in rehab and a period of sobriety can't rescue her from.

While this follows a strict chronological trajectory that might provide further ammo for those tired of the format, it's also an effective snapshot of a relatively brief, unexplored flicker in time. Due to this, it avoids coming across as a history lesson that crams decades of a person's life into two hours, skipping years and events to fit a regimented framework. More disciplined in staying the course, this rarely feels like an exploitive collection of her lowest points.

Because Amy's brief but memorable ascent feels as if it occurred yesterday, there's an immediacy to the story that's more culturally relevant than usual. Having paved the way for Adele and the many other British soul singers who've emerged since, the experience of watching becomes oddly inseparable from the hypothetical question of how the rest of her career would have turned out.

Abela is tremendous in the role, all the way from the opening scene of Amy reminiscing with her grandmother to when she eventually implodes later on. The huge surprise is that the actress does her own singing, faring unusually well given the insurmountable challenge of replicating Winehouse's unmistakable vocal stylings and stage presence. The elephant in the room is how the film handles Amy's addiction, contradicting much of what's been reported. If her substance abuse issues have long been tied to Blake's toxic influence, this paints a far different picture, with him even controversially painted as a victim at various points. 

The pair's initial meeting might be the film's best sequence with O'Connell's finding just the right blend of dangerous sleaze and charm, as we wait for Blake to emerge as the monstrous, abusive instigator we've heard so much about. And though he's far from a positive influence and destructive in his own right, that doesn't really materialize here. Instead, Amy just can't seem to quit him, and while a refusal to go to rehab results in her most iconic hit, by the time she actually gets there, it's too late. Eddie Marsen's Mitch is a constant presence as her dad/manager, in denial and overwhelmed by the harsh reality of his daughter's situation.

Given the family's involvement in this production, it is one of the more sympathetic portrayals of an artist lost to addiction, sidestepping the same tawdry treatment Amy received from the media while she was alive. That the movie captures a certain authenticity can be attributed to an actress who foregoes outright impersonation to embody an insecure family girl with a giving heart who briefly became the biggest pop star on the planet. The hows and whys are sometimes frustratingly murky, but Taylor-Johnson gets a lot right in exploring the gap that separated who Amy was from what the public perceived her to be.                     

Let Him Go

Director: Thomas Bezucha
Starring: Diane Lane, Kevin Costner, Lesley Manville, Will Brittain, Jeffrey Donovan, Kayli Carter, Booboo Stewart, Ryan Bruce, Adam Stafford, Bradley Stryker
Running Time: 114 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

In the Western thriller Let Him Go, Kevin Costner proves again just how invaluable a screen presence he can be in any type of role, but especially when handed a part like this, which is so firmly entrenched in his wheelhouse that it conjures thoughts of his best work from the '90's and beyond. While the ads and commercials previewed a mix between a feature length version of Yellowstone and a low-key actioner for older moviegoers (not that either would be the worst thing in the world), writer/director Thomas Bezucha goes a step further in delivering an adult drama that has a little extra, as the suspense  continues to build right up until its closing scenes.

With two great performances grounding this, it's definitely more of a slow burn, but an immensely satisfying one that pays off, finding Costner operating in the same  mileu that's served as a backdrop for some of his more memorable outings. Aside from the baseball diamond or golf course, there seems to be no on screen setting for which his skills are better suited than this, even if he isn't really the story's protagonist. With his character reluctantly dragged into a difficult, potentially lethal predicament by his determined wife, played by Diane Lane, you could argue she's the plot's true driving engine. It's a different dichotomy, as well as an opportunity to see the reunited Man of Steel co-stars carry a picture together as leads for the first time, benefitting from both their talents being utilized to maximum effect.

It's 1961 and retired Montana sheriff George Blackledge (Costner) and his wife Margaret (Lane) are living with their son James (Ryan Bruce) and wife Lorna (Kayli Carter), along with their newborn grandson, Jimmy. But when James dies suddenly in a horse accident and Lorna goes on to marry Donnie Weboy (Will Brittain) a few years later, Margaret's worst instincts about this new husband are confirmed when she spots him physically abusing Lorna and little Jimmy. Soon after, all three have suddenly disappeared from town, prompting Margaret to confide in George about what she saw before  both set out to find them. 

Unfortunately, the situation emerges as far more dangerous than expected, as Lorna and their grandson are essentially being held captive by Donnie's psychotic mother Blanche (Lesley Manville) and the Weboy clan, including a slimy and unpredictable Uncle Bill (Jeffrey Donovan), who leads them to the house, and potentially a trap. After a disastrous meeeting and new friendship starting to form with a mysterious Native American man named Peter (Booboo Stewart) George and Margaret now must determine how to rescue Lorna and Jimmy from this violently dysfunctional family, and live to tell about it. 

The relationship between George and Margaret is everything this story's foundation is built upon, with new dimensions to these two characters as spouses, ex-in-laws, and grandparents being revealed as the conflict escalates. As each carry their own set of responsibilities and problems, the first act is kind of a feeling out in terms of which lines they feel are permissable for to cross given that the widow of their deceased son is making awful choices for their grandson. Besides this being delicate moral territory, it's also complicated from a legal standpoint considering they'll never have the rights their ex-daughter-in -law does as the boy's mother. For this and other reasons he'll soon be talked out of, George is initially hesitant to get involved, at least until Margaret forces his hand by doing it herself. 

George and Margaret aren't exactly ever on the same page but Bezucha's script still depicts a couple unmistakenly supportive of each other, even when in massive disagreement. She never backs down or wavers in the slightest, barely flinching when confronting this monstrous family face-to-face. It's intriguing how she leads the charge while George, a lawman, takes the more passive approach, remaining superficially cool and collected. If we didn't know better, the assumption could be that he's apathetic, afraid or weary of the potential consequences should they get involved. But that's hardly it. 

Costner's so good at depicting a man who's simply checked out following his son's death and has already thrown in the towel, frequently referencing his age. George even looks sad and tired, as Margaret seethes at his opinion that they sit this out. As good as Costner is, Lane might have the tougher job, maintaining for Margaret the facade necessary to execute a plan to save the boy and his mom. You can sense her wanting to just jump out of her skin at the thought that this sadistic family has gotten anywhere near their grandson.

More than a couple of scenes between the Blackledges and Weboys are so tension-filled they're almost difficult to watch. After a methodical build to the initial dinner confrontation, everything goes completely sideways, as Lesley Manville's ferocious performance takes center stage and the grandparents realize they'll be in for a fight that's more than just a war of words. The tide turns in an  entirely new, violent direction, as we anxiously wait for when George will go into full Costner-mode, getting his John Wayne on and attempting to take on this family by himself. In a third act that's far from a disappointment, and complete with an outcome heavily in doubt, the question becomes whether he can. 

Mileage may vary in terms of sympathy for Lorna given her poor decisions, but there's really no measure for the atrocity of the the family holding her, determined to take posession of her son, regardless of the cost. And as it turns out, the Weboys may even have more protection to do it than originally feared despite George's law connections. Supplemented by an elgiac Michael Giacchino score and some great photography from Guy Godfree, Bezucha also has a good eye for action, as in one spectacular sequence where a character meets their demise so conclusively that it actually appears as if the gates of hell have physically opened to swallow them whole.      

Let Him Go is very much a throwback that recalls Costner's role in Clint Eastwood's criminally underappreciated A Perfect World from 1993. Despite him playing characters who straddle opposite sides of the law in each, there's a lot of that film in this, at least in terms of theme and atmosphere, with both centering around the protection of a child. Here, a story that starts traditionally enough pivots into something a bit more sinister, with Bezucha and his actors juggling a lot of balls in the air on its way to the finish. And it's the handling of that transition that puts this a cut above others in a genre that's slowly disappearing. If the quality of this project isn't a good enough case for its continuation, then maybe nothing is.