The Hunger Games: Catching Fire

Director: Francis Lawrence
Starring: Jennifer Lawrence, Josh Hutcherson, Liam Hemsworth, Woody Harrelson, Donald Sutherland, Elizabeth Banks, Lenny Kravitz, Stanley Tucci, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Jena Malone, Sam Caflin, Jeffrey Wright, Amanda Plummer
Running Time: 146 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 
 
Having never read The Hunger Games series on which the films are based, the big question I had going into its first sequel, Catching Fire, was exactly how Hunger Games co-champions Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence) and Peeta Malark (Josh Hutcherson) would end up competing again. I mean, they won, right? Isn't it over? This installment spends the good part of an hour explaining how that's possible, setting up the circumstances surrounding her forced return and giving much needed attention to fleshing out the dystopian society mostly ignored in the preceding installment.

After seeing the original, I remember having a conversation with someone more familiar with the franchise and asking what was up with all those ridiculous costumes. "It was in the book." "It's the future." Those answers sum up my problems with the first film in a nutshell. This one has a scene where a female tribute, sick of all the pageantry, just strips naked in an elevator. That's the difference. All I asked of the first film was that it take seriously its premise of a reality game where contestants are fighting for their lives and that it not take concessions to get a PG-13, needlessly sanitizing the material so it plays better for the masses.

While this still certainly isn't a bloodbath, it's a big improvement that actually contains some ideas. For all I know they could still be watering everything down, but at least it doesn't FEEL that way this time and those compromises aren't as noticeable on screen. There's a concerted effort to explore the moral implications and fallout from the first film to reach beyond the usual YA audience. Francis Lawrence takes over for Gary Ross as director and while he's a workmanlike filmmaker without a particularly distinctive cinematic voice or visual style (probably a plus for tackling a tentpole franchise), he nonetheless does a excellent job bringing this world to life, proving himself worthy of an encore.  

A year removed from being declared co-winners of the 74th Hunger Games, District 12 golden girl Katniss and baker's son Peeta must now embark on the victor's tour across Panem's districts, as per the orders of President Snow (Donald Sutherland), still enraged over the fact they both outsmarted him, escaping the games with their lives. But now Katniss' job is simpler: Show the world her staged romance with Peeta wasn't a televised ruse to defy the Capitol, but real relationship that will continue long after the games have ended. For him, that's clearly true. For her, it's a little more complicated, as her boyfriend Gale (Liam Hemsworth) is patiently waiting for her back home, even as both their families' lives continue to be threatened by President Snow.

With Katniss and Peeta joined again by dissheveled mentor Haymitch Abernathy (Woody Harrelson) and kabuki-like chaperone Effie Trinket (Elizabeth Banks) on their victory lap, the one thing they can't do on this tour is give the districts hope, which could rally the already disgruntled citizens into rebelling against the Capitol. Fearing that's exactly what's happening, Snow enlists newly appointed Gamemaker Plutarch Heavensbee (Philip Seymour Hoffman) to destroy Katniss. His master plan: Hold another Hunger Games.

The idea that there would be an "All-Star Edition" of the games that include previous winners from all the districts just so Katniss and Peeta could be thrown to the wolves (or in this case, killer baboons) in the arena again is inspired. Why they're being forced to compete again and how it ties into their influence as celebrities inciting a social rebellion is certainly more compelling than anything in the first film, where it seemed as if there was no danger or stakes at all. Much more than before, they're targets that Snow wants killed or at least made into examples to crush the public's spirits.

It helps that this time there's an hour of build-up getting to know this world and dealing with the fact that these two competed on a reality show where kids killed each other for entertainment. They must have opinions and feelings on that, so it was nice to finally get them. And see legitimate threatening danger in the form of Peacekeepers (basically stormtroopers with flamethrowers) led by a scary Commander Thread (Patrick St. Esprit) baring down on the districts to "keep order." We even see a public lashing. The actual Hunger Games mean nothing without context or a sense of why they're happening. In the first 60 minutes the material finally earns its popular comparisons to Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery" while strangely invoking new ones like Fahrenheit 451 in its depiction of a politically oppressive dystopia. Too much set-up? Maybe, but it's time well spent considering how little we got in the first film.

That the possibility exists that Woody Harrelson's drunken Haymitch, a former winner, could again be competing if called as tribute speaks to the unpredictability surrounding this outing. A key difference this time around is that they're not battling each other, but a government forcing them to go at it again despite promises to the contrary. Some new faces include the cocky Finnick (Sam Caflin) and District 7's outspoken, but dangerous Johanna Mason (Jena Malone). And due to the new format there are middle-aged tributes (played by Jeffrey Wright and Amanda Plummer) and even a senior citizen (Lynn Cohen) competing, all of whom have every right to be more furious than before at being there.

While the games itself was the highlight of the last film, but they're improved upon here with crisper CGI and the absence of a shaky cam that previously defined the action sequences, making many of them difficult to decipher as Ross went out of his way to avoid showing any kind of graphic violence. And considering this outing isn't helmed by a director known for visual wizardry, everything still looks much better than its predecessor, as the booby trapped tropical setting for the arena is staged well, but more importantly, feels dangerous. Katniss and Peeta have no idea who they can trust or what's lurking around the corner and that the screenplay (co-written by Slumdog Millionaire scribe Simon Beaufoy) has some thematic meat on its bones this time around only bolsters the suspense.

Now entering this installment with the "Academy Award Winner" title in front of her name, Jennifer Lawrence manages to give a performance that far surpasses her stellar work in the previous entry, only this time doing it in a really good movie. Freed from the shackles of having to carry sub-par material on her back, she now shows us what she can do with Katniss when she's written well and a meaningful story surrounds her. Unsurprisingly, the results are astounding, especially in that opening hour as she experiences a painful internal struggle about what she's done and its implications for Panem. If Lawrence is this good now and the franchise many worried would imprison her career and waste her talent has just turned the corner creatively, how much better can she get? It's almost a scary thought. Here there's much less to elevate, and yet, she still elevates it.

In the face of Lawrence's acting dominance, it's almost a backhanded compliment to say Hutcherson seems more assured as Peeta with each passing minute in the franchise, but he is. That they're taking a slow burn approach to his relationship with Katniss is a relief to those worried that narrative aspect would move to the forefront. It's even more subtle and restrained this time, carrying none of the YA baggage you'd associate with movies of a similar ilk and permanently killing all comparisons to garbage like Twilight. Liam Hemsworth still feels like the third wheel as Gale, but the cliffhanger ending hints that's soon about to change. More impressive is newcomer Caflin as Finnick, whose allegiance to Katniss and Peeta is constantly in doubt, even when his bravado isn't. Jena Malone, makes a tough, sexy Johanna, with the aforementioned elevator introduction perfectly setting the stage for a bold character whose intentions are also up in the air.

That The Hunger Games: Mockingjay-Part 2 will be the final listed screen credit of Philip Seymour Hofffman no longer feels like the travesty many have feared, as he gives a smart, subtle performance as Gamemaker Plutarch that's obviously a major upgrade from Wes Bentley's Seneca Crane from the previous installment. What's funny is how it seems like he just rolled out of bed and is put in no effort at all, until you realize it was a very deliberate choice for him to play it this calm and collected, further solidifying his ability to invisibly slide into any character. What was initially deemed a "sellout" role is instead revealed as an opportunity to appreciate whatever screen time remains of our greatest actor.

Elizabeth Banks still annoys as Effie, as I've come to terms with the fact that I'll just never care for this character or the actress's over-the-top approach to her, especially sticking out as a nuisance in this more serious entry. The opposite is true of Stanley Tucci's manic TV host Caesar Flickerman, who again is a highlight and a comic diversion that works because Tucci makes sure something twisted and sadistic breaks through. The script should also be credited for finding pupose for Lenny Kravitz's Cinna this time out, making his brief role count for something that reflects the themes of the story.

The first film may have been a slight misfire but it was never dull and a joy to assess because of its potential. And now that potential comes much closer to being completely fulfilled here. In an era where big money franchises don't have to creatively deliver to make bank, this one does and has ideas to go along with its action.  Movies are only getting unjustifiably longer and more bloated, so the fact this one is 146 minutes and doesn't waste any of them shouldn't be taken lightly. I'm still curious what would happen if the creative handcuffs were totally removed but they go as far as they can within the confines of a PG-13, recognizing and correcting nearly all of the previous film's problems. The only remaining concern is that movies like this tend to have a ceiling of quality and this may have hit it. Let's hope not. That it's been called The Empire Strikes Back of the series may be slightly overstating matters, but I get it. Catching Fire leaves us hanging and wanting more.
         

Philip Seymour Hoffman (1967-2014)

"Success isn’t what makes you happy. It really isn’t. Success is doing what makes you happy and doing good work and hopefully having a fruitful life. If I’ve felt like I’ve done good work, that makes me happy. The success part of it is all gravy."

- Philip Seymour Hoffman

Ask anyone and they'll be able to tell you the first Philip Seymour Hoffman movie they saw. And chances are they probably didn't even know he was in it at the time. That was his greatest gift as an actor. The ability to completely disappear into a role. Calling an actor a "chameleon" seems almost commonplace, but here's a guy who actually was. Versatile enough to go from playing Truman Capote in Capote (for which he won an Academy Award) to Oakland A's manager Art Howe in Moneyball. From one role to the next, supporting or lead, he often mixed it up so much that at times he would almost seem physically unrecognizable. At first we knew the face but couldn't place the name. He was "that guy." But even then we knew he was great, and frequently even better than the material in which he would appear. That changed in the late 90's with Happiness, The Talented Mr. Ripley, Boogie Nights and The Big Lebowski and then there was no turning back. 

With some actors it's difficult to pinpoint exactly what makes them unique but that was never the case with Hoffman, whose talent lay in making you feel that every character he played could have easily been one of us. No matter how extreme it never felt extreme or unreal. He didn't look like your typical actor and didn't perform like one, slipping so thoroughly under the skin of his characters that alternating between leading man and invaluable supporting player seemed only natural. I first really took notice of him as rock critic Lester Bangs in Cameron Crowe's Almost Famous, where he took a mythic figure we've mostly only heard and read about and humanized him as the film's moral compass with only a handful of scenes. It was one of the first of many outsized roles he'd take on, playing characters with an unquenchable anger and intensity. 

Watching him as volatile "Mattress Man" Dean Trumbell in Punch-Drunk Love  almost scary and he just storms through Charlie Wilson's War, blowing everyone else off the screen as maverick CIA agent Gust Avrakotos to earn his second Oscar nomination. If there's any movie of his that feels like it needs a revisiting it's that one. But beneath the blustery exterior of those characters there was always a vulnerability that would be put to good use when he was called upon to play more introspective roles, like a socially awkward teacher helplessly infatuated with his student in Spike Lee's post-9/11 meditation 25th Hour. Playing a schlub hiding under a Yankees cap, it might be his most muted, captivating everyman performance. On the complete opposite end of the spectrum, he completely stole 2009's Pirate Radio (AKA The Boat That Rocked) as crazy DJ "The Count," upholding the Hoffman tradition of infusing a utility player with a greater sense of importance and humanity than was likely intended. 

If everyone remembers the first Hoffman film they saw then they'll also remember the first titles that sprang to mind at the news of his passing. For me, it was his two most challenging. Synecdoche, New York and The Master, both of which still await the respect and revaluation they so richly deserve from both critics and audiences. The former's themes of mortality now seem especially eerie and prophetic, begging the question of whether it will get easier or more difficult to rewatch because of it. With the latter he gives us his latest and greatest creation in charismatic, egomaniacal religious leader Lancaster Dodd, navigating the choppy waters of a messy, controversial subject to dig for something deeper and more powerful than anyone anticipated.  

Recently, when beginning to look back and draft top ten lists of my favorite films of recent years it was hardly surprising to discover Hoffman was all over it, nor was it a revelation to notice how many movies of his I own and frequently return to. The biggest compliment is that the collection was completely unintentional. He was just that good and that prolific. Nearly everything he made holds up and does so because of him. Few could argue his commitment to his craft, whether on screen, on stage or even behind the camera. We knew this last week and we still know now. No reevaluation of his legacy is necessary. We lost the best actor of his generation at the top of his game. It doesn't matter how he died. It matters he's no longer here. For movie fans it's an immeasurable loss as we're left with a giant void that future PSH performances could have filled. But he's also left us and future fans  a brilliant filmography to appreciate and analyze for decades to come. 
 

The Master

Director: Paul Thomas Anderson
Starring: Joaquin Phoenix, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Amy Adams, Jesse Plemons, Madison Beaty, Ambyr Childers, Laura Dern, Rami Malek
Running Time: 137 min.
Rating: R

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

   **Spoiler Warning: The Following Review Reveals Plot Details**

"Processing" is a word frequently used throughout Paul Thomas Anderson's The Master, and that's fitting considering it also describes what many will be doing after having seen it. In the film, processing (or "auditing" in Scientology speak) is the battery of repetitive and abrasive questioning roaming seaman Freddie Quell (Joaquin Phoenix) endures at the hands of Lancaster Dodd (Philip Seymour Hoffman), the scientist and author behind a controversial movement called "The Cure." This scene is, if you forgive the pun, a master class in screen acting that holds you enraptured for its duration. It's best to get it out of the way now and state there's absolutely no question the Cure is based on Scientology and the character of Dodd is roughly if not directly, inspired by L. Ron Hubbard. There's no need to dwell on it because it only provides the jumping off point and might be the least important element of a film so challenging, frustrating and baffling you may as well skip the first viewing all together because it'll demand at least three.

Having seen the film only days ago, I'm still trying to make sense of what it all means and slowly coming to terms with the fact that that's what makes it unforgettable. The narrative is all over the place, the two lead characters experience no growth from beginning to end and you'll want to bang your head against a wall when it's over. And yet it's like no American film in recent memory and sticks out like a sore thumb amongst PTA's previous work, none of which has ever been known for its conventionality. But with this, he's really made a raw statement, and while it may take years to figure out what that statement is, he's one of the few filmmakers left who refuse to just give us the answers. With expectations sky high, it was certainly possible to predict the picture's greatness, but few could have guessed it would be this impenetrable.

Our first glimpse of Freddie Quell is under his helmet as World War II comes to an end. A mentally ill alcoholic prone to fits of spontaneous rage, he can't hold down a job as a department store photographer, resulting in a memorable scene early on where he verbally and physically abuses a married customer. It's worth mentioning he's married only because that fact seems to be what drives Freddie over the edge. His quest for women and a family is a reoccurring theme throughout the film and his burning need for human companionship provides the purpose for his existence and, as the film argues, ours.

After a drunken night, Freddie ends up as a stowaway on the ship of the enigmatic Lancaster Dodd, whose quasi-religious, philosophical movement explores past lives, time travel, processing and forms of hypnosis to return the human form to its perfect essence, thus eradicating war and disease. In this young man, Dodd immediately sees an animal that needs to not only be contained, but cured and senses he could be the perfect subject for his practices, which are coming under increased scrutiny. A friendship and father-son dynamic that develops is at times touching, volatile and pathetic in how both seem to fulfill a need in each other. Freddie, the animal, needs the stability and focus the Cure's teachings provide so he can empty his emotional baggage. Dodd secretly and desperately wants the freedom Freddie has but his movement is built entirely around suppressing those animalistic urges.  His pregnant wife Peggy (Amy Adams) feels Freddie is past help and his unpredictability is a detriment to their cause. She may be right, but in Dodd's mind, it's as much his mission to prove himself right as to rescue a lost soul.

As Freddie, Joaquin Phoenix gives a performance unlike any other we've seen, playing an unconventional, often unlikable protagonist who keeps you on edge every moment he's on the screen with his volatility. Besides having literally no idea what he'll do from one scene to the next or when he'll just completely lose it, his exaggerated movements and mannerisms more closely resemble an old man than a young seaman. Phoenix is pushing 40 yet is still somehow completely believable as being in his twenties, middle-aged or an old man. Here it seems he gets to play all three as the character's actual age remains one of the film's many mysteries.

Slouched over like a hunchback with his pants nearly pulled up to his chest, words frequently come out of his mouth as a drunken warble with his emotional instability physically manifesting itself to the point that he looks physically ill. It's not just a brilliant performance, but a dangerous one because he keeps you on edge and anxious the whole time you're watching, constantly in your face and taking on the persona of a wild animal. During one of Freddie's many meltdowns Dodd reminds him he's the only one who likes him, and he's right. Of all the kooky theories Dodd dispenses throughout, the one that strangely seems the most plausible is that these two men were destined to somehow find one other across time and space.

Hoffman infuses Dodd with a blustery charisma and Wellesian presence that belies a deeply insecure fraud you still can't help but admire for his dedication, if nothing else. His best scenes are when his practices are questioned, causing the usually calm, confident Master to briefly lose it before realizing that doing so is a betrayal of the Cure's methods, which are frequently attacked. If behind every great man is a woman then Dodd's is his wife Peggy, played by Amy Adams in the scariest performance of her career. "Terrifying" or "emotionless" aren't adjectives usually associated with her work but she has a scene (and if you've seen it you know EXACTLY which one) that's so shocking it instantly puts everything about their marriage and this movement in full perspective. It's clear who the real puppet master is, as we find out Freddie isn't the only man in the film controlled by the opposite sex. A perfectly cast Jesse Plemons (who really resembles a younger Hoffman) has only a few scenes as Dodd's son Val but they're revelatory, with one resulting in perhaps the film's most memorable line. Even he thinks his father's a fraud. Laura Dern has an extended cameo as a Cure follower who eventually starts asking to many questions for her own good, and Dodd's.  

Viewers are likely to take an issue with the fact that the narrative follows an unusual trajectory that seems to spit in the face of what we'd consider a conventional three-act structure. There's this expectation that the film is building toward some kind of climactic showdown between the Dodd and Freddie, similar to the final violent bowling alley scene between Daniel Plainview and preacher Eli Sunday in There Will Be Blood. But this isn't that kind of a relationship, and the more we want to see Freddie break away and become Dodd's nemesis, the further PTA seems to tug in the opposite direction. The battle taking place is within themselves and it each needs the other to help fight it. The movie builds and builds before fading away into the distance, leaving the viewer to consider the possibility that some people just might be incapable of change, hardwired to sabotage their own happiness.

At one point Dodd tells Freddie that if he figures out a way to live without a master to let the rest of the world know because it would truly be a first. Dodd's master is his wife, while Freddie also has a girl, Doris (Madison Beaty) he thinks is waiting for him back home. And by the time he actually realizes what he wants, it's gone. The film starts almost exactly where it begins, with Freddie adrift. All he wanted was a human connection, and his brief bond with Dodd provided him with it, or maybe just the illusion and comfort of one. Like most things in his life, he couldn't find the discipline to dedicate himself to it, though a closing scene (extremely reminiscent of A Clockwork Orange) suggests the Cure's practices had some kind of lasting impact, even as we're unsure of exactly what. The jury's out on whether there's any hope for this character, or whether anyone will ever be able to fully dissect what occurs in the last third of the picture. In a way, the movie never truly ends.

About as divisive and polarizing as it is, a movie theater just might be the best and also worst place to see The Master. Technically speaking, it demands to be seen on the big screen to absorb the visual grandeur and hear Jonny Greenwood's unmistakably sad and sublime score that's more than a few miles removed from his previous PTA collaboration on There Will Be Blood. Yet, it so complex and intellectually involving it's impossible to imagine seeing it with an audience and being as absorbed as you would be watching it alone without any external distractions.

Too often period pieces are prone to feeling to cold and distant with such a technical emphasis on capturing a certain era (in this case the post-war 50's) that the story's pathos is lost. What PTA does better than anyone, and takes to a whole new level here, is check both those boxes in creating an epic that's technically brilliant without sacrificing emotional depth. It doesn't feel like a museum piece to be admired and respected from arms length like so many others released this time of year, but instead a picture to dive into repeatedly, making new discoveries on each viewing.

With this effort PTA cements his status as the best American filmmaker working today, surpassing his closest competitor David Fincher, whose recent Dragon Tattoo amounted to little more than pulpy nonsense. Even those who despise this picture (and boy will there be) couldn't reasonably consider it a disappointment just on the basis of the discussion and analysis it inspires. It also features two of our greatest actors in Phoenix and Hoffman going head-to-head in what will no doubt years from now be looked at as the pinnacle of their work. It's difficult enough to find new releases that give us something we've never seen before but this does that while still having enough respect for its audience to let us unravel what that "something" is. Challenging beyond belief, what throws you off most about The Master is how it doesn't actually begin until after the final credits roll. 

The Ides of March

Director: George Clooney
Starring: Ryan Gosling, George Clooney, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Paul Giamatti, Marisa Tomei, Jeffrey Wright, Evan Rachel Wood
Running Time: 101 min.
Rating: R

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)
 
Is there any better casting than George Clooney playing a liberal Presidential candidate? If the actor ran right now he'd probably win and you'd have problems convincing me he'd be any worse a choice than the other available options. Having also wrote and directed the timely political thriller The Ides of March, he knew the right role to give himself. As expected, he smoothly plays Pennsylvania Governor Mike Morris like it's effortless. But the film's not about him. At least not completely. It's about his press secretary Stephen Meyers (Ryan Gosling), who starts off as an idealist and ends up as someone else entirely. We kind of know that's where we're going but the real thrill is in how Clooney's airtight script and precise direction masterfully turn the screws to take us there. It's a step-by-step examination of how someone becomes corrupted and why our political system is so broken. It's a stretch, but not unrealistic, and I believed if something like this were to go down, this is how it would and these are the kind of bad decisions people make that allow it to happen.

Two such decisions send the story spiraling out of control and they're easy to justify because the characters making them are smart. The first starts with Gosling's Stephen receiving a phone call from rival Presidential campaign manager Tom Duffy (Paul Giamatti) trying to woo him over to their side. And for good reason. He's the best. It's a tempting offer since Morris' Presidential campaign is struggling and they're about to lose Ohio. An Obama-like idealist to his core (or so it seems at first), Morris refuses to compromise his beliefs to get elected, which makes one wonder how he got into politics at all. Topping the list is his refusal to court the potentially election-clinching endorsement of Sen. Thompson (Jeffrey Wright), which does come at a price. Stephen's on a sinking ship and knows it but his loyalty to Morris and senior campaign manager Paul Zara (Philip Seymour Hoffman) won't let him jump. But the opposition's interest in him is undeniably flattering, resulting in a fleeting moment of weakness that has disastrous consequences.

The second mistake involves a young, connected intern named Molly (Evan Rachel Wood) with whom Stephen becomes romantically involved. Only that's not the mistake. It's unwise, but the real mistake is hers. And it's a doozy. From there, the plot, with all its twists and turns, unravels and a reporter (Marisa Tomei) threatens to bust it wide open in a welcome return to the days in movies where journalists wielded considerable power. At one point Giamatti's character states that the problem with Democrats is their refusal to be like Republicans. They won't get down in the dirt and sling mud. But corruption crosses party lines.

A while back Clooney revealed his 100 favorite movies and now he's directed one that's an interesting companion piece to that list, recalling similarly themed political/conspiracy thrillers of the '70's like The Parallax View and All The President's Men. It's not surprising a smart, engaging film for adults would underperform at the box office right now, but that critics would use it as a punching bag is, with more than a few disparagingly referring to it as a glorified TV movie. I don't get that at all, even if it may be more a compliment considering the healthy creative state of television these days. It could be because it covers a topic that's often explored on the small screen or that the revelations in the film aren't shocking per se (though one did blow me out of my seat), but instead meticulously constructed and executed, like a chess game with its pieces moving across the board. And all the players are perfectly utilized.

Given the banner year each had it's no surprise Gosling facing off against Clooney on screen yielded such successful results, making Gosling worthy of competing against himself for a Best Actor Oscar if that were allowable (and now I'm thinking it should). In a way what he does here is similar but completely different to his more muted, intense performance in Drive in that he's playing a cool, calculated character suddenly rattled threatened by circumstances exceeding his grasp. It's a difficult role, but he expertly sells the tricky transformation from idealist to cynic. Giamatti and Hoffman are two of our finest contemporary actors, but they could have easily been marginalized in an ensemble like this. Neither are, with each at the top of their games making essential supporting contributions on which the entire foundation of the story rests. Evan Rachel Wood is tragically tremendous as the doomed intern in way over her head.     

I'll admit to laughing a little when Clooney's script (adapted from Beau Willimon's 2008 play Farragut North) was nominated for Best Adapted screenplay thinking it was just another way for the Academy to pat their favorite movie star on the back. But he deserves the praise, streamlining a complicated narrative into a clean, concise cinematic experience free of any excess fat. Technically speaking, it's perfect. Consider it the Michael Clayton of political thrillers, right down to its chilling final image. If that film marked the turning point for Clooney as an actor then this is his as a director, easily surpassing all his three previous efforts behind the camera which were solid, but dry. There's nothing dry or slight about this. Here's a movie with something important to say. The political system may be broken but those engulfed in it should look no further than the mirror to determine what's most in need of fixing.

Moneyball

Director: Bennett Miller
Starring: Brad Pitt, Jonah Hill, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Chris Pratt, Robin Wright, Kerris Dorsey
Running Time: 133 min.
Rating: PG-13 

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

What struck me most while watching Moneyball was how little I knew about the events that occurred, and whatever I did know, I had problems remembering.  That's sure to be the reaction of anyone watching who's only a casual baseball fan and that's exactly the point. History is written by the winners and the Oakland Athletics didn't win the 2002 World Series despite setting a new Major League record with their 20 game winning streak. In fact, they didn't even make it there. Those aren't spoilers, just statistics in a film that's all about statistics. At one point A's GM Billy Beane (Brad Pitt) says that people only ever remember your last game and he'd be proven right since what happened that year feels like fresh news to anyone who didn't follow the sport closely or read Michael Lewis' 2003 book that provides the film's basis.

Strapped for cash and unable to compete with other teams, Beane improvised and challenged the way those inside baseball thought about and evaluated the sport, even if many didn't feel like admitting it. Interesting and analytical rather than emotional, it's an incredibly welcome change in a genre prone to sentimental grandstanding where it all comes down to the "big game." There's none of that here. Crisply told and featuring two outstanding  performances, this is rousing entertainment at its best. While it'll probably still play best for fans of the sport, it's everybody else who needs to see it and experience the joy of a story told well enough to convert them.

After having star players Johnny Damon and Jason Giambi snatched from the deep pocketed Red Sox and Yankees, Beane is faced with the daunting task of assembling a competitive team despite being the poorest in the league. In a clubhouse full of old school scouts, he's told the answer's what it's always been: Evaluate talent based on their strengths and weaknesses, while factoring in some other intangibles like "look"and "marketability" to obtain the best talent within their price range. It isn't until a trip to Cleveland and an encounter with Yale economics grad Peter Brand (Jonah Hill) that Beane's introduced to a sabermetric method of scouting created by former factory worker Bill James that relies on objective statistics and data rather than a subjective evaluation of a player's perceived strengths and weaknesses. Objectively, only numbers matter. After hiring Brand away from the Indians as his new assistant GM, Beane devises a plan to recruit players based on their on-base percentage and the radical idea causes an uproar amongst his seasoned scouts and enrages manager Art Howe (Philip Seymour Hoffman). Creating an "island of misfit toys" with players no one wants or would take a chance on, Beane and Brand must overcome a rough start and harsh criticism to turn the Athletics into a winning team again.

The film was co-written by Oscar winning Social Network screenwriter Aaron Sorkin and you can tell. He seems to be on a role lately with adapting non-fiction material and making it crackle on screen, injecting excitement and suspense into conversations about baseball strategy and statistics just as he did for computer programming and courtroom depositions. He does this by not only letting us know the people having the conversations, but conveys what's at stake for them. Billy Beane's own disappointing Major League playing career informs the story through flashbacks since the scouting system he's pushing almost seems to be a bittersweet retaliation at the one that failed him. Pegged as a can't miss prospect he missed big when the Mets drafted him in 1980 management looking at perceived intangibles instead of numbers.

The idea that Beane's ultimate destiny was never to be a player but do this informs every scene, particularly his interaction with the players. There's one involving his attempts to get through to a 37-year-old David Justice (played memorably by Stephen Bishop) that epitomizes the uphill battle he has and the honesty with which he approaches the challenge. Who knows if the conversation even took place but the magic in their exchange is in wondering how great it would be if it went down just like that. Art Howe comes across as the fool of the picture to the point that even calling him the team's manager is a stretch since all he cares about is a contract renewal as Beane handles much of the coaching. You can't watch without wondering how pissed the real Howe must be about this portrayal. On one hand you sympathize with him being undermined at every turn, yet there's no denying it's hilarious, more so with an angry, deadpan Hoffman playing him. The media attributing the A's remarkable turnaround to his brilliant managerial mind provides the biggest laugh of the movie.

This is Brad Pitt's show, and at the risk of sounding like a broken record, he gives one of his best performances and is pretty much a lock for a Best actor nomination. While his role earlier in the year in The Tree of Life may have technically been more challenging from a craft perspective, this is the kind of big movie star turn Academy members will be foaming at the mouth to nominate and there's even a good chance he'll win. Charismatic, likable, sympathetic, funny and carrying the entire film with seemingly effortless charm, the full scope of Brad Pitt has never been as prominently displayed as it is here, and in a big studio picture to boot. The level of difficulty hardly matters since it's a virtual highlight reel of all the talents that make him a star, much like Clooney in Michael Clayton, Cruise in Jerry Maguire or Redford in anything during the '70's. The role seems tailor made for him and and watching how everything turned out it's clear he deserves a lot of credit for trusting his instincts and sticking with a project lingering in development hell for years that many didn't think would see the light of day.

While you can use a permanent marker to write in Pitt for a nomination, it wouldn't surprise me if Jonah Hill goes along for the ride in the supporting category as Paul Brand (who's based on real life A's assistant GM Paul DePodesta). After only testing the dramatic waters a little in smaller films, this is Hill's first full plunge into a serious role and it's a pleasant surprise how excellent he is in it and what an oddly effective pair he and Pitt make. Entering a lion's den of locker room traditionalists, Hill plays Brand as extremely knowledgeable, yet overwhelmed and intimidated by the experience. What's neat is how it does contain some of the comic moments you'd expect from him, but restrained in a completely different context. It's easily the best work he's ever done and the true definition of a supporting performance, anchoring the film and Pitt the whole way through as his right-hand man..

In the far smaller but still fairly important role of A's 1st baseman Scott Hatteberg, Parks and Recreation's Chris Pratt is perfectly cast as the shocked and scared premiere pick of Beane and Brand's who has to step up and become the on-field poster boy of their statistical experiment. The little time spent on Beane's personal life is there to advance the sports story that's unfolding and get to know him, which is how it should be. There's just the right amount of emphasis on that and his ex-wife (Robin Wright) and daughter (Kerris Dorsey) that it doesn't feel like an intrusion meant to soften the character or show how his life is in shambles as a lesser script might.

Director Bennett Millers' handling of the material is tremendous in how he visually simplifies what could have been a dense watch for non-sports fans, with the playing scenes only bolstered by Mychael Danna's anthemic score. At 2 hours and 13 minutes the film arguably could have used a snip or a trim, but it's difficult to feel that way watching it. If anything, it's so level-headed and straightforward it's biggest problem may be that it's the type of film easier to respect than love, but time will tell.  When Beane says "it's easy to be romantic about baseball" we expect nothing less than an easy, inspirational conclusion. Instead we get one that leaves you to consider what constitutes "winning" and wondering whether Beane could have been toppled by the very approach he helped popularize. When the title card appeared on screen revealing what became of him since that '02 season, I heard audible gasps of shock from the audience, perhaps a testament to how few still know what he accomplished in a sport primarily concerned with who won the last game.

Doubt

Director: John Patrick Shanley
Starring: Meryl Streep, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Amy Adams, Viola Davis
Running Time: 104 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

As a kid, I remember the public library in town always stocked movies, some classics, that appealed primarily to the "older" crowd. Doubt wouldn't be that out of place among them. It's dry Oscar bait that at times feels more like a homework assignment than a fully realized cinematic experience. Even the title is somewhat of a misnomer. It could very easily be changed to Here Say, Rumor or Gossip. We start in a position of knowing nothing and finish in a position of knowing...nothing. Not a deal killer by any means, but when there isn't anything other than the performances to support that, it can become an issue.

In interviews writer/director John Patrick Shanley has stated that the movie really begins after the final credits roll at which point you can discuss and debate. Discuss what? I hope he's not referring to whether this priest molested a student because there's no indication at all that he did. We're given no evidence, nothing to go on, so the film essentially becomes one giant true or false question. Here's a sample of a discussion I had with someone after the film:

Him: "So, think he did it?"

Me: "No."

That's about the extent of it. Since the film doesn't present any evidence or a compelling argument in either direction something is lost and the performances have to make up for it, which they handily do. The story becomes about feelings and motivations rather than guilt or innocence. There isn't much to weigh here. Still, it's worth contrasting this with Ron Howard's far superior Frost/Nixon, this past year's other big Oscar-ready stage adaptation. There, Howard opened opened up the story visually and used an effective narrative framing device that added tension and history. It felt like an epic showdown and a prize fight between two heavyweights. Shanley seems to have just grabbed a camera and shot the Tony Award winning play, which just so happens to be his own.

In way Doubt reminds me more of Rachel Getting Married or The Wrestler, in that it's primarily a performance showcase except for the fact those two films dug deeper and transcended that, giving you substantially more to think about when they ended. This is a solid, if slightly transparent effort completely supported by the caliber of the acting, which is downright brilliant across the board. For that it has more in common with Milk, though it doesn't carry nearly the same level of expectation and subsequent disappointment. At least here you get to make up your own mind, even if there isn't a whole lot to consider.

It's the fall of 1964 at St. Nicholas Church School in the Bronx where the principal, Sister Aloysius (Meryl Streep) rules with an iron fist, treating misbehaving students like inmates in a penitentary and inspiring fear everywhere she goes. Father Flynn (Philip Seymour Hoffman) operates in stark contrast, taking a friendlier approach to the kids and acting as an encouraging mentor. Nearly two years after the assassination of President Kennedy the world is changing, kids are changing and Flynn believes Aloysius' method of discipline is becoming irrelevant.

Caught in the middle of their philosophical struggle is the young, naive Sister James (Amy Adams) who has reason (albeit very little) to suspect Flynn may be carrying on an "inappropriate relationship" with Donald Muller (Joseph Foster) the only African-American student in the school. She takes her suspicions to Aloysius who despite having no evidence, stills pursues the issue, even involving the boy's mother (Viola Davis). Aloysius will stop at nothing in her quest to wrangle a confession out of Flynn and prevent him from teaching at her school ever again, making us wonder whether she really is out to protect the welfare of these children or is more interested in settling a personal vendetta.

The worst way to approach this film is as a moral mystery. What it is instead is a clash of values and cultures brought about by allegations that don't carry much wait outside of Aloysius' belief in her heart that they're true. And her belief could be clouded by a pre-conceived bias and intolerance toward the man accused of the crime. Or maybe it isn't. That notion is even scarier. There's the possibility that this mild-mannered teacher who by outward appearances seems to be a great mentoring figure to kids could have actually done this. Who among us hasn't ever just gone on a gut feeling and nothing more? The performances rather than Shanley's script, give the dilemma nuance and depth. With less talented actors you could easily envision this coming across as three talking heads debating a non-existent issue.

Streep and Hoffman draw you in with their lived in portrayals of two people with greatly differing views of intolerance, which is what the script purports to be about. Her Sister Aloysius starts the film as an ice cold disciplinarian and she ends the film as that as well so Streep instead makes our view of her evolve. We still dislike her by the final credits, but at least we can understand where she's coming from even though her guard never really comes down. She's set in her ways and grasping as hard as she can to what she believes is best for her students, ignorant to the fact that times have changed and left her behind. That's never clearer than in the sensational, some what bizarre scene Streep shares with Viola Davis, who plays the boy's mother.

Davis joins the company of Judi Dench, William Hurt and Ruby Dee in earning an Oscar nomination for only a precious few minutes worth of screen time. It's well deserved and in a way her character speaks for audience in wondering whether Aloysius has thought through what these allegations could do not to Flynn, but the boy. Mrs. Muller just wants to get her son through the school year in one piece and the absolutely horrifying idea is thrown out there that being molested may not even be his worst problem in life.

There's a whole world out there that Aloysius hasn't even considered or maybe just can't. Davis' character throws that in her face and the result is the only scene in the film that will have you talking afterward. It's a stretch and a complicated part to pull off believably (especially in so short a time span) but Davis does, holding her own with an acting legend in the process. Hoffman gives a benevolent vibe to Flynn that makes you want to root for him, but something seems off. A cloud of suspicion hangs over him, enough for you to consider that he could have done this despite the lack of proof. Amy Adams plays the quiet wallflower but effectively takes the character to the next level as the situation unfolds, even as her cheery, optimistic demeanor wears on you after a while

I was surprised to read in the credits that the film was shot by the great Roger Deakins and scored by composer Howard Shore because this has to rank among the least memorable offerings for both. I can't recall a shot that stayed with me or whether there was even any music at all. This is a performance piece and a front row ticket to watch some of our most talented actors verbally spar with one another. The film will likely hit hardest for those who attended Catholic school in their youth. Everyone I've talked to who has told me that they knew a Sister Aloysius, a Sister James, or a Father Flynn, if not all three. It was the real Sister James who inspired Shanley to write the play and its her objective but optimistic stance audiences will relate to best.

I admired the film but would never see it again. Nor would I feel compelled to discuss it since we know no more at the end than the beginning. Not even a little more. While it's is a superbly acted and at least somewhat emotionally involving picture I can't help but think that it helps explain why many dread Oscar season. Impressively crafted, but draining, Doubt is worthy of a couple of acting nominations, a hearty golf clap, and little else.

Synecdoche, New York

Director: Charlie Kaufman
Starring: Philip Seymour Hoffman, Catherine Keener, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Michelle Williams, Samantha Morton, Hope Davis, Emily Watson, Dianne Wiest, Tom Noonan
Running Time: 124 min.
Rating: R

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Leave it up to Charlie Kaufman to craft a film so bizarre and insane that it makes the idea of entering a portal into John Malkovich's brain seem completely reasonable in comparison. Who would have ever guessed the screenwriter behind such mindbenders as Being John Malkovich, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Adaptation was being held back by not directing his own scripts? Here, making his directorial debut, the shackles have been cut loose and with no one there to filter his vision he goes off the deep end. "Self Indulgent" isn't even the term here. Synecdoche (pronounced Syn-ECK-duh-kee), New York is the ultimate in masturbatory filmmaking excess that will confound, confuse and frustrate everyone.

The film is bi-polar, schizophrenic, has multiple personality disorder and suffers from hypocondria. Kaufman just doesn't swing for the fences, he runs out onto the field and tries to jump over them. It's difficult to reconcile that this is actually a directorial debut as not many filmmakers are brave enough to have their first feature draw on influences like Citizen Kane and 2001: A Space Odyssey. I talk not of the quality of the film but the level of ambition and what's scariest is the possibility that Kaufman is really serious here. When it ended I knew there was no way I could assign it a star rating. What does it all mean? Does it mean anything? Does it even matter? I had had no idea what I'd just seen. It would need AT LEAST another 3 or 4 viewings to put it in perspective, if that's even possible. You watch it the first time just to say you did. This is challenging with a capital "C," pushing viewer tolerance to the absolute breaking point.

I've stayed in Schenectady, New York (once) and I've performed in a play (once). One was a creatively fulfilling experience while the other was not. I'll let you take a guess as to which. But neither of those experiences were as memorable or maddeningly frustrating as watching Kaufman's film, or more accurately, his experimental work of art. Forgive me if this doesn't read like a standard review because there will come a point where all my thoughts will just turn to mush, much like they did about an hour into the movie.

Philip Seymour Hoffman is Caden Cotard a depressed local theater director in Schenectady who's producing an updated version of Death of a Salesman in which he's come up with the novel idea of casting young actors in the roles of Willy and Linda Loman. The idea being that they play the roles with the fearful knowledge they someday will be old. At the same time Caden begins to come to down with a series of bizarre physical ailments that convince him he's dying even though no doctor seems able to diagnose him with anything.

A rift grows between him and his painter wife Adele (Catherine Keener) who views her husband as a massive failure and soon absconds to Germany with their young daughter Olive (Sadie Goldstein). This leaves Caden even more alone and chronically depressed than usual, seeking comfort in both the arms of box office employee Hazel (Samantha Morton) and his miscast leading lady Claire (Michelle Williams). Very little life guidance is provided by his therapist (Hope Davis in a hilarious cameo) who's much more interested in hawking her latest self-help book and showing some leg than providing him with any insight.

"Oh, this isn't that crazy at all," could easily sum up my reaction to the film's first 50 minutes. As far as Kaufman penned projects go, it almost seemed downright tame, somewhat slow building and meandering at points. There are some strange clues that weird things could go down but aside from that it plays pretty much like your standard dysfunctional relationship movie featuring a typical self-loathing protagonist. That's until Caden receives a genius grant giving him the wealth to pursue his passion project as a director--a play based on his life. He gathers his ensemble cast into a huge warehouse in Manhattan where he creates a replica of the city inside. Everything after that may as well be a blur as the film disappears down the rabbit hole.

Notions of time and space are played with as months seem to pass by in the span of a week for Caden. His daughter is grown. Lovers leave. Lovers come back. He becomes an old man as Hoffman dons prosthetic makeup but unlike The Curious Case of Benjamin Button its nearly impossible to pinpoint exactly when that happens in the timeline for Caden in the story or for us watching the film. Time just doesn't exist in Kaufman's world. There's just life and death. What's in between is only a blip on the universe's radar screen (recalling the closing hotel room sequence in 2001: A Space Odyssey, only stretched out longer).

The play, an outlet for Caden's neuroses, is complicated with the appearance of Sammy (Tom Noonan), the actor who lands the part of Caden after confessing he's been following him for the past 20 years preparing for the role. Sammy has an affair with Hazel as the real Caden embarks on one with the actress playing her (a very naked Emily Watson). It becomes nearly impossible to distinguish between the play and reality and Caden is directing a man who's playing him directing the play that's he's directing about his life. We haven't a clue what's happening to Caden or what will become of him. Is he dreaming? Is this the final moment before his death? Is he already dead?

Watching, you might be reminded of more films that have explored similar themes of mortality, human existence, forgiveness, love and regret, and in very unconventional ways. But none like this. My mind immediately turned, in either method or execution, to pictures like Vanilla Sky, Magnolia, Adaptation, Stranger Than Fiction and I Heart Huckabees.  Just like Nicolas Cage's Kaufman doppelganger in Adaptation, Caden seems to represent the filmmakers' perception of himself and his failures. It shares its dark humor with Huckabees, as well a similarly whimsical John Brion score, but like Nicolas Cage's Kaufman doppelganger in Adaptation, Caden seems to represent the filmmakers' perception of himself and his failures.  This introduces an intriguing question. Can you criticize Kaufman for self-indulgence when the film is ABOUT a director's self-indulgence and how it destroys him?

Hoffman has built an entire career out of playing self-loathing losers but here he plunges new depths in what's easily the least mainstream project his name has ever been attached to and one of his most challenging, rewarding roles. He lifts patheticness to an art form while all three actresses are on equal ground in terms of what they bring to the film. While I may be unclear on other issues it's hard to name three supporting actress performances in 2008 that could rival Keener, Morton or Williams'. It's rare to see three female supporting roles of this size and importance contained within a single film. They're the driving engine. Remove one of them and you'd have no film as each represents something very different for Caden, serving as a reflection of his own shortcomings. Keener's Adele is gifted at painting miniature pictures so what better way for him to get back at her then to undertake a project as big as possible?

Despite its self knowing tone and moments of genuine humor this is a very, very bleak film. Just the last word of dialogue spoken in it is proof enough of that. But as full of despair as it is it's also bursting with beauty and can be viewed as a love letter to creativity and a kick in the ass to the starving artist who dares to dream big. By its conclusion you're not so sure that this story was really just about Caden or that Kaufman made it just to entertain himself. If he did, he definitely went hard on himself. The deeper possibility exists that this film was ours, representing what we do with the limited time we have and how we place people in our lives in the parts we want them to play.

Though this runs 124 minutes it feels much longer probably because it's so gigantic in scope and ideas. When the final credits rolled I was unsure whether I wanted to hug Kaufman or strangle him. He made something that's just SO inaccessible and difficult to follow, but boy does he have balls for filming it. Like Richard Kelly last year he's gotten away with murder and it's a miracle any studio released this. He can take his place alongside Kelly, Tarantino and Luhrmann in the self-indulgence hall of fame.

The irony of it all is that this sticks out like a sore thumb in a year that saw very few filmmakers take any big risks and the output was disappointingly mainstreamed. There's always the dangerous tendency to overpraise a film for being different and original without thinking first whether it's just over-the-top eccentricity masquerading as art. Similarly, nothing should ever be casually dismissed on the grounds of weirdness or overambition. I was forewarned by many going in that this would be "my kind of movie." They were right. Subsequent viewings are necessary to unravel its mysteries. Kaufman has given us something we've never seen before and it better settle in because it'll be staying for a while.

Before The Devil Knows You're Dead

Director: Sidney Lumet
Starring: Philip Seymour Hoffman, Ethan Hawke, Albert Finney, Marisa Tomei, Rosemary Harris, Michael Shannon, Bryan F. O'Byrne, Amy Ryan
Running Time: 116 min.
Rating: R

**1/2 (out of ****)

Before The Devil Knows You're Dead is essentially a film about two losers who make a series of stupid decisions that wreck their lives. When it was over I was sure I enjoyed it, but the more I thought about it I realized, aside from some sure-footed direction from a filmmaking legend and two outstanding performances, there wasn't really anything particularly great about it or worth recommending. The director of the film is Sidney Lumet, who's stated in interviews that he's gotten sick of reporters and critics mentioning how old he is. I don't blame him since I agree the age of a filmmaker should have no bearing on anything. So, let's just say he's up there in years. Watching the film I never would have guessed the age of the director, but more disappointingly, I also wouldn't have guessed it was directed by the same man who made Serpico, Dog Day Afternoon and Network.

It's not fair to compare this to those classics and while this is definitely one of his lesser efforts, it is still better than many directors' best. But his work is undermined here by a silly script that bombards us with an annoying narrative device that prevents us from caring about any of the characters. This is all in spite of an Award-worthy performance from one of our greatest actors and book ending the film with a shocking opening and closing scene. But all they are is shocking and that's the problem. I actually found myself laughing a lot during this film, which couldn't have been Lumet's intent.

Andy Hanson (Phillip Seymour Hoffman) and his younger brother Hank (Ethan Hawke) are losers at life. Andy is stuck in a pressure-filled job he hates while struggling with drug addiction. He dreams of coming into a windfall of cash so he and his beautiful wife Gina (Marisa Tomei) can leave the country. They have intimacy issues but you'd never know it from the opening scene, which features them having wild sex. I guess after you've won an Oscar one of the perks is getting to do a scene like this, but something tells me it was probably more embarrassing and nerve-racking for the actors than exciting. Gina is having a secret affair with Hank, whose life is equally in shambles. He can't afford the child support payments to his ex-wife (played by Amy Ryan) and the two are at each other's throats constantly.

Andy comes up with a solution to both their problems with a plan to rob a mom and pop jewelry store. This mom and pop in question just so happens to actually be mom and pop (Rosemary Harris and Albert Finney). Having worked there in the past they both know the layout and since their folks are fully insured they won't lose anything. A disguised Hank will case the joint on a Saturday morning although he's completely unaware their mother is covering that shift for an absentee associate. The problem with this master plan is that Hank isn't the brightest bulb in the box, nor does he trust himself to go through with this. He hires a hot-headed out-of-town thug (played by Bryan F. O' Byrne) to help him out and everything goes all wrong. It's worth noting that Rosemary Harris' performance in the robbery scene is truly awful, turning what should be an edge-of your-seat sequence into a screwball comedy with her cartoonish facial expressions. The second half of the picture deals with the serious fallout from this tragedy and Finney's character's suspicions into what happened. The more Andy and Hank try to cover their tracks after the robbery the deeper a hole they dig themselves into.

It's hard to determine which half of this film works best. On one hand, the first hour is at times a very interesting character study highlighted by a terrific Hoffman performance as this pathetic and desperate man. But this section of the film is mired by something very annoying. Kelly Masterson's script constantly zigs and zags, flashing forward and flashing back to let us know what happened "1 Day Before The Robbery," "2 Days Before The Robbery," "2 Weeks After The Robbery," "7 Days After The Fifth Leap Year And Approximately 2 Minutes and 15 Seconds Before The Robbery." It's so irritating. Not so much because of the confusion it creates, but because it's pointless. There's no reason for it. When used sparingly this device can be successful and actually add to the story (see Michael Clayton), but here it's just a distraction and distances us from the characters. We're too concerned trying to figure out what day and week we're on to actually care about what they're doing. It was clearly done in an attempt to make the film feel hip and new rather than enhance the material.

The second half of the film crackles with more intensity and belongs to Hawke, whose Hank could write a book on how to look as suspicious as possible after you've committed a crime. But it's just how anyone would act and a scene he has at a car rental office as just about as tension-filled as you can get. Again though, Masterson's script gives in to temptation and takes things too far. Everything escalates to ridiculous levels, which wouldn't be a problem so long as the story didn't take place in a fantasy world where cops don't exist. That's especially surprising considering this is a Lumet film. The script shifts from Andy and Hank covering their tracks so well that no cops could find them out, to their actions (especially Andy's) becoming so complicated and bizarre you wonder how any cop could even put the pieces together without their head exploding. Maybe that's why Masterson chose to write the law out entirely. It was just too much to deal with. The ending doesn't give us the closure a film like this needs and the final scene is downright laughable. That's really all I can say about it. Albert Finney is a gifted actor, but there's was no way even he could pull this off believably.

Despite my misgivings, Hawke and especially Hoffman turn in superb work. While they're movie stereotypes with movie problems like drug addiction and unpaid child support, these actors invest them with something more and I tried my best to care what happened to them. The ludicrous screenplay just wouldn't let me though. I not only believed them as brothers, but also that Hoffman's character could be married to Marisa Tomei. If that's not great acting I don't know what it is. Speaking of Tomei her sole purpose in the film seems to be to generate as much traffic as possible for the Mr. Skin website by appearing topless for nearly every one of her scenes. No complaints from me on that front, but I just expected her to play a bigger role in the proceedings. She's all but discarded in the third act.

On the DVD's special features Lumet describes the film as a "melodrama. That's a very accurate description. I think the reason this film has garnered such high praise is because people are just thrilled that one of the directors from the golden age of 70's cinema hasn't sold out and is still producing work of value and integrity at his advanced age. I completely agree that that's admirable, but just hoped to get a little more out of the picture. Burdened with a mediocre screenplay, Lumet did the best he could and likely a lot better than many other directors would have. I really wanted to like this but just couldn't bring myself to. Attempts to tell a deep story involving family and betrayal were sabotaged by the script's silly games. Before The Devil Knows You're Dead isn't a bad film at all, it just isn't anything we haven't seen before in the heist genre.

Mission Impossible 3

Director: J.J. Abrams
Starring: Tom Cruise, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Billy Crudup, Ving Rhames, Michelle Monaghan, Jonathan Rhys Myers, Keri Russell, Maggie Q
Running Time: 126 min.
Rating: PG-13

*** (out of ****)

Before seeing Mission Impossible 3 I remarked to someone that I didn't think I've ever seen a bad Tom Cruise movie. That streak continues. M:I:3 is less complicated than the other films in the series, is much more focused and adds a human element to the story that the other two lacked. Plus, it has a great villain, which always helps. It's probably the best in the series. That's not to say I necessarily want to see another one and it's unlikely we will since Cruise was fired from Paramount after this was released, (more due to his offscreen antics than the earnings of this film). Still, it would be a shame if people avoided this for that reason because accomplishes everything it sets out to do quite well.

I.M.F. agent Ethan Hunt is now retired from the field and spends his days training up and coming agents like Lindsey Farris (Keri Russell). When Lindsey is kidnapped by dangerous arms dealer Davian (Oscar winner Philip Seymour Hoffman) Hunt is drafted back into action and ends up getting more than he bargained for when the life of his new financee (Michelle Monaghan) is also put at risk. To save her he has to retrieve the mysterious "rabbit's foot." To the script's credit, we never find out what the "rabbit's foot" is . All we know is that it's incredibly important. I really wish more films would do this. It's so much more effective when the filmmakers don't reveal that information because whatever it is will just pale in comparison to what the viewers imagine it will be.

At the center of the story is the question of whether someone is Hunt's line of work can even have a normal relationship with somebody and there are some good scenes with Cruise and Monaghan that support it. This is an improvement over the other Mission Impossible films in that it dares to raise questions about anything. Of course, the story is beside the point. It's just an excuse to have some terrific action scenes and chase sequences and I assure you there's definitely no shortage of them. There's a great sequence at The Vatican where Hunt and his team have so many costume changes I almost lost count and a chase scene/shoot out on a bridge that will blow your mind. There's the memorable introduction of a bomb that detonates inside your head as well as the return of one of my favorite elements of the MI series: the use of masks. It's a special treat here as we get to see Seymour Hoffman do a dead-on Cruise impersonation. This guy didn't win an Oscar for nothing and it's a thrill to see him ham it up in a villainous role like this, a nice change from the usual character driven roles we see him in all the time. It makes a big difference when an actor of his caliber is cast and it's great seeing him having such a good time with it. I also liked the interplay with Hunt and his I.M.F. Team and if you don't know who Maggie Q is, you definitely will after this movie. She makes an entrance at a party you won't soon forget.

M:I:3 has some twist and turns and the movie effectively starts it's first scene at the end and then works backwards showing us how we got there, adding a heightened sense of importance to the proceedings. This is the feature directorial debut of Alias and Lost creator J.J. Abrams and he proves him himself more than capable of making the leap to big budget action without missing a beat. Tom Cruise is often taken for granted as an actor and this special edition DVD features a montage of all his films and it's really amazing when you look back at his output. We also find out on a "making of" feature on the disc that much to the director (and probably his agent's) horror he does actually perform much if not all of his own stunts. You could argue he should be contractually obligated to given the insane salary he commands per picture, but the fact remains few actors do all their own stunts. There's also a commentary track on the disc with Cruise and Abrams that's entertaining enough, as it's defintely fun to hear how they did some of the more spectacular action sequences. While my expectations couldn't have been lower heading into M:I:3, I found it was a fun, exciting way to spend two hours.