Oppenheimer

Director: Christopher Nolan
Starring: Cillian Murphy, Emily Blunt, Matt Damon, Robert Downey Jr., Florence Pugh, Josh Hartnett, Casey Affleck, Rami Malek, Kenneth Branagh, Benny Safdie, Jason Clarke, Dylan Arnold, Tom Conti, James D'Arcy, Dane DeHaan, Alden Ehrenreich, David Krumholtz, Matthew Modine, Scott Grimes, Alex Wolff, Michael Angarano, Macon Blair, Jack Quaid, Josh Peck, Olivia Thirbly, James Remar, Gary Oldman
Running Time: 181 min.
Rating: R

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)     

With Oppenheimer, writer/director Christopher Nolan takes what many might consider an unusual route in examining the "father of the atomic bomb." Jumping between timelines, framing the narrative around two significant court hearings and shifting from black and white to color, this isn't your standard historical biopic. And yet it is, surreally using its subject's life to explore deeper, further reaching consequences that linger to this day. Adapted from the 2005 biography "American Prometheus" and clocking in at a gargantuan three hours, Nolan doesn't hold back in examining the string of events surrounding disgraced American physicist J. Robert Oppenheimer's eventual loss of national security clearance in 1954.

While a fair amount of the story's energy is poured into the actual development of Oppenheimer's weapon of mass destruction, it's primarily gripping prologue, preparing us for the controversy to come. It isn't until his idea becomes a reality that he discovers the moral complications and lack of control he'll have over its use. You can chalk this up to hubris or naivety as his concerns aren't merely dismissed, but savagely ripped apart, leaving the renowned physicist's reputation smeared. History may have partially corrected that, but the most unsettling aspect is how it happened to begin with.

It's 1926 when American-born 22 year-old theoretical physics student J. Robert Oppenheimer (Cillian Murphy) studies at Cambridge before completing his PhD in Germany and returns to the states to teach quantum physics in California. While on the West Coast he befriends a group of U.S. Communist Party members, getting entangled in romantic relationships with troubled psychiatrist Jean Tatlock (Florence Pugh) and his eventual wife, biologist Kitty Puening (Emily Blunt). But everything changes once he's approached by General Leslie Groves (Matt Damon) in the midst of World War II.

With the Nazis and Russia suspected of working on a nuclear arms program, Oppenheimer is recruited by Groves in 1942 to lead the Manhattan Project dedicated to developing an atomic bomb. Joined by a team of scientists including good friend Isidor Isaac Rabbi (David Krumholtz) and the brilliant but disagreeable Edward Teller (Benny Safdie), Oppenheimer and his crew work around the clock in Los Alamos, New Mexico to prepare for a dangerous test detonation. As Oppenheimer's consumed with guilt over President Truman's (Gary Oldman) decision to bomb Japan into surrender, longtime rival and Energy Commission chairman Lewis Strauss (Robert Downey Jr.) schemes, pulling political strings to sideline the scientist.  

Non-linear as the film's structure appears, it actually follows a strict chronology that begins with Oppenheimer's academic years and continues through Los Alamos and beyond. There's a lengthy emphasis on his education, marveling under the learning tree of intellectual idols like Kenneth Branagh's Nobel winning physicist Niels Bohr. These early scenes, along with his personal troubles with wife Kitty and unhinged mistress Jean seem off-putting at first, but it adds up, as does his affiliation with communists. Nolan's pretty even handed with this, neither downplaying Oppenheimer's tangential involvement or how that association will be weaponized to later take him down. 

All roads lead to the 1945 Trinity A-bomb test, building up a huge amount of suspense and intrigue for the blast that clears the path for Truman's bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. While the catastrophic event itself isn't depicted, the script doesn't shy away from questioning whether Japan would have  surrendered without such extreme measures. And no one's more ambivalent than the tortured Oppenheimer, who becomes painfully aware of the door he just opened and its horrifying ramifications. 

The film's most powerful scene comes when Oppenheimer delivers a speech to an audience full of scientists and military wildly cheering their hero for ending the war. But what he sees instead are bright, blinding lights and faces of burning flesh in the crowd that will haunt him long after the celebratory magazine profiles fade. Jennifer Lame's editing and Ludwig Göransson's score provide constant, palpable tension throughout, but never more than during this sequence, which signals the psychological battle he'll now be fighting within himself.

Supposedly, the feud between Mozart and Salieri in Amadeus served as Nolan's inspiration for Lewis Strauss's hate and jealousy fueled vendetta against Oppenheimer, which is mostly one-sided. By orchestrating a predetermined sham of a hearing for his opponent, Strauss ends up revealing more about the integrity of those testifying than the accused. But between Oppenheimer's womanizing and communist links, it's not hard to discredit him, even if a worse humiliation comes while meeting with Truman, who mocks his concerns. When given the choice of falling in line or getting out of the way, he picks neither, losing his country instead. 

Cillian Murphy has played his fair share of villains and creeps, but Oppenheimer, while eccentrically flawed and narcissistic, isn't exactly that, if only because his intense regret is enough to qualify him as having a conscience. But he still did what he did and spends the rest of his days grappling with it, leaving the gravest risk to humanity in the hands of a potentially irresponsible government.

Through that lens, it's easy to view Oppenheimer as a hopelessly reckless, but the pull of Murphy's performance is that he plays him as nearly impenetrable and impossible to read right up until the enormity of what's happened sinks in. And with his sunken, hollowed face and darting eyes, the eeriest aspect to his casting is how an actor with such an unusually unmistakable look manages to be a physical dead ringer for the man himself. 

Strauss' 1959 Senate confirmation hearing for Eisenhower's Secretary of Commerce position proves to be a referendum on the former shoe salesman's shady dealings and Oppenheimer's last shot at any kind of redemption. Downey's brilliance peaks here, revealing he was actually this good at being bad the entire time, only now allowing us to catch on. The rest of this loaded cast is packed with big names filling what would otherwise be considered small, throwaway roles under the guidance of a lesser director. Some are seamlessly interwoven into the plot's fabric while others are briefly written off until reappearing later to make massive contributions. 

Matt Damon steals a portion of the film with his gravitas as the hard-nosed, practical Gen. Groves while brief, strong turns also come from Josh Hartnett and Rami Malek as physicists Ernest Lawrence and David Hill, Jason Clarke as hearing attorney Roger Robb, Casey Affleck as military intelligence officer Boris Pash, and most notably, Alden Eidenreich as Strauss' unnamed fictional aide who becomes increasingly disillusioned with his boss. Blunt isn't given tons to do as Kitty, but she nails the heavily factual interpretation, right down to her pivotal testimony ripped directly from the transcripts. Pugh makes an even larger impression with far less screen time, bringing a desperate instability and magnetic seductiveness to Jean, who's constantly a step away from falling off the deep end.

With a fairly restrained use of CGI and an emphasis on more practical effects, the only small complaint is some questionable old age makeup in the last act that's still less distracting than any digitized approach, especially in a period piece. But the film deserves major credit for what's probably the best use of Albert Einstein (magnificently played by Scottish actor Tom Conti) we've seen in a historical drama. There's this clever mystery surrounding the professional bond he shares with Oppenheimer that requires both more and less unpacking than you'd initially assume. And that's especially true of their unforgettable final scene.  

Cold and detached, this is still surprisingly accessible, with everything locking into place for Nolan in ways it hasn't before. Plagued by anxiety and impending doom, we watch the scientist simmer from the inside, realizing his greatest innovation could very well destroy the world. And that enormous weight is thrust onto viewers, making Oppenheimer a challenge to fully absorb in just a single watch, where you can only begin to unravel its numerous implications.

No Time to Die

Director: Cary Joji Fukunaga
Starring: Daniel Craig, Léa Seydoux, Rami Malek, Lashana Lynch, Ben Whishaw, Naomie Harris, Jeffrey Wright, Christoph Waltz, Ralph Fiennes, Billy Magnussen, Ana de Armas, David Dencik, Rory Kinnear, Dali Benssalah, Lisa-Dorah Sonnet
Running Time: 163 min.
Rating: PG-13

**The Following Review Contains Major Plot Spoilers For 'No Time to Die'**

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

The first thing that jumps out at you after viewing the 25th Bond installment, No Time to Die is that it's really over. Daniel Craig's done as 007. We knew the day was coming, and yet, how it happens still manages to leave the kind of indelible mark that should separate this film from the pack. To an extent, it does, covering a lot of the same ground we've seen in many of Craig's previous outings while taking full advantage of a gargantuan, somewhat punishing running time to do so. It goes all out, but the most shocking revelation is that they chose to make a direct sequel to Spectre, which could be viewed as a victory for those appreciating series continuity. That's not a practice Bond producers have historically embraced, often moving from one entry to the next while only occasionally connecting the dots or leaving some Easter eggs behind.

You'd think all this suggests a forward-looking franchise, but the opposite's true, as different directors have conformed to a traditional 007 template that's been strikingly similar in tone, plot and execution. Cary Fukunaga rarely breaks from it, giving us the usual hits and misses we've grown to expect and have associated with this Bond run. There are some absolutely spectacular sequences followed by others that don't quite work, with the latter magnified by a bloated length filled with expository scenes that sometimes halts the momentum. But if Spectre dissenters can get past this picking up where that mildly received entry left off, it's satisfying in a lot of ways. Unlikely to supplant either Skyfall or Casino Royale as a definitive favorite, it should still justifiably impress many fans by further emphasizing just how much Craig's brought to the table during his Bond reign.

After a chilling flashback shows a young Madeleine Swann witnessing the death of her mother at the hands of future bio-terrorist Lyutsifer Safin (Rami Malek), we flashforward to the present where James Bond (Craig) is vacationing in Matera with Madeleine (Léa Seydoux) following the capture and imprisonment of Blofeld (Christoph Waltz). But when Bond's trip to Vesper Lynd's grave leads to a violent ambush by a group of mercenaries, he leaves Madeleine behind, believing she betrayed him. 

It's now five years later when a retired Bond is contacted in Jamaica by Felix Leiter (Jeffrey Wright) and his new colleague Logan Ash (Billy Magnussen) regarding a bioweapon that's been developed by kidnapped MI6 scientist Dr. Valdo Obruchev (David Dencik). Despite warnings from his 007 successor, Nomi (Lashana Lynch) not to get involved, Bond agrees to help Leiter, stepping out of retirement and on a head-to-head collision with the dangerous Safin. Initially picking off Spectre agents, he has a much more ambitious, demented plan of world domination in store, intending to use Madeleine as a pawn in that game. Terrifyingly obsessed with finishing the trauma he inflicted on her as a child, it'll be up to Bond to get to him first. 

A nearly half-hour prologue that features the snowbound Safin/Madeleine home invasion flashback sequence is unnerving and suspenseful in all the right ways, letting us know under no uncertain terms that what happens here will reverberate through the rest of the narrative and pay off later. And it mostly does. The surprise attack on Bond and call-back to Eva Green's Vesper Lynd might be the first time we've seen him attempt to process her death, serving as sort of a catharsis for fans who finally receive open acknowledgment from the many screenwriters credited on this project of her enduring impact on 007 and the franchise as a whole. 

Of course, the cruel joke here is that all this Vesper reverence occurs in a movie where Léa Sedoux is given the enormous role many would have liked to see reserved for Green had she continued past Casino Royale. There really wasn't any reason to believe Seydoux's character would even be back following Spectre, much less be such a focus that she seems to get as much screen time as Craig. But while still not sharing the greatest chemistry with him, she does give a much stronger performance in her second outing, and that's while being given about four or five times more to do this time around.

After an exhilarating opening and promising set-up, the action starts settling into a more predictable rhythm, with some occasional greatness thrown in. A typically inventive opening title sequence accompanied by Billie Eilish's serviceable but somewhat sleepy main theme leads us into Bond's re-emergence as an MI6 agent, which M. (Ralph Fiennes) resists. If the latter's carelessness can at least be partially blamed for the calamity that brought him back, the usual attempts to establish Bond as this reckless rule breaker who'd rather die than do things "by the book" are offset by all the pull and support he still has within the agency.

Since it's basically established that Moneypenny (Naomie Harris) and Q (Ben Whishaw) will do anything for Bond, retired or not, this leaves the only potential conflict within the ranks to be with his 00 stand-in, Nomi, well played by Lashana Lynch. Any fans bent out of shape that he's somehow been "replaced" should know it seems to be in title only, and not for long. She's very much a supporting player in Bond's story and at times seems as much on his side as Felix, Penny or Q, and probably even more than M. 

Ana de Armas' show-stealing turn as Paloma, a CIA agent assisting Bond in infiltrating a Spectre party in Cuba, is hands down the best performance in the film, supporting or otherwise. Playing a character claiming to only have three weeks training, she quickly wins us over as this bubbly, hyperactive, nervous personality who throws caution to the wind while also having a great sense of humor. Unlike any previous "Bond Girl" it almost feels demeaning to refer to her as such, as de Armas cultivates this easy, effortless flirty rapport with Craig that no one's quite had until now.

Full of surprises, the kick-ass Paloma proves to not only be deceptively dangerous, but the consummate pro whose unusual approach belies an almost astounding level of competence. Her stay lasts only about 20 minutes but does de Armas ever make the most what should be a throwaway role. That the film never fully regains that same energy following her exit should serve as a sign that this is the kind of fresh, contemporary character producers should be thinking about when considering directions the franchise could potentially go.  

If there's a drawback in the screenplay, it's that viewers will feel as if they're far ahead of Bond and the other characters in terms of the plot. There are points where it seems we're literally waiting for them to catch up to the grand scheme (which is no less absurd than some others in the franchise) and who's behind it. That's not to say there aren't still some really great moments like Bond's prison encounter with Blofeld or his emotionally charged reunion with Madeleine, now with a young daughter named Mathilde (Lisa-Dorah Sonnet). While it's not exactly a shocker whose child this is, the idea of Bond as a father has been unexplored, infusing the proceedings with a welcome dynamic that raises the stakes considerably, adding a fair amount of tension to what's already a strong final act.

Largely absent through much of the film's middle portion, Rami Malek's disturbed, disfigured Safin doesn't get as much screen time as you'd expect, but it still kind of works, building up the myth of this character until he finally unleashes hell on Bond. Judging by the end result, he almost has to be considered one of 007's more formidable challengers, with a fairly intriguing backstory that enables Malek to calmly, creepily get under his adversary's skin as a villain completely convinced he's the victimized, misunderstood hero. 

Saffin may not fully succeed in his global plan, he's able to do something no one has in setting off a chain of events that eventually take out Bond. The image of a shot, poisoned 007 standing atop Safin's headquarters as the missiles descend upon the island is about as emotional an end to Craig's run that you could imagine, especially given what Bond leaves behind. And like Spectre before it, the look of this island station is awe-inspiring, with production designer Mark Tildesley successfully paying homage to some of the franchise's classic settings of decade's past. All of it converges as a fitting close for Craig, who's always been underappreciated in the role, his performances wrongly perceived as being only as good as the entries in which he's appeared. It's a problem that plagued his predecessors, but no actor since Connery has done more to overcome it.

If it took Craig's exit from this notoriously risk-averse property to give us something completely different and unexpected, so be it. While they weren't really given much of a choice considering the circumstances, any serious backlash will be offset by the inevitability that this series will soon get a fresh coat of paint anyway, if not a hard reboot that goes beyond the recasting of its iconic protagonist. Whether that's something to look forward to is debatable, as we can certainly do a whole lot worse than No Time to Die. Either way, it carries a great sense of finality, sending 007 out on top and making it very clear that the Bond we've known for the past fifteen years is gone. What's left in his wake is a mixture of dread and anticipation for what's next.                    

The Little Things

Director: John Lee Hancock
Starring: Denzel Washington, Rami Malek, Jared Leto, Chris Bauer, Michael Hyatt, Terry Kinney, Natalie Morales
Running Time: 128 min.
Rating: R

★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

For much of its running length, John Lee Hancock's crime thriller The Little Things seems as if it isn't going anywhere, before excitingly arriving at a last act that pretty much confirms it went nowhere. Set in the early '90's, it attempts to channel the spirit and aesthetic of period-specific thrillers like Se7en or Copycat, but eventually settles on what resembles a poor man's Zodiac. With a basic plot best described as "textbook movie murder" it lacks the hook of those two former efforts and while a gripping opening attempts to invoke that latter masterpiece, it rarely delivers on its early promise Moody, atmospheric, and anchored by three performances in search of better material, the film technically has a lot going for it, which only enhances the disappointment as the narrative plainly plays out. 

Before revealing itself as a dark, somewhat messy character study about a pair of mismatched detectives, the case(s) that monopolize the majority of the picture couldn't be any less involving. While it's possible we've just been so burned out by the proliferation of streaming true crime documentaries that any fictionalized account would fall short, this seems especially problematic by any standard. It's almost as if Hancock cherry picked the least intriguing elements of every murder that's occurred in the Los Angeles area during the 80's and 90's and  recycled it on screen. The Night Stalker is explicitly mentioned and will inevitably be the case to which this fictional one is compared, but the gruesome crime scenes here are a Cliffs Notes version of that, without any meaningful context or insight into the psychology behind it.

It's 1990 and Kern County deputy sheriff Joe "Deke" Deacon (Denzel Washington) is called into the L.A. Sheriff's Department to collect evidence when he encounters lead detective Jim Baxter (Rami Malek), who's spearheading an investigation into a string of new murders resembling the serial killings an obsessed Deacon couldn't solve when he held that position. After a rocky introduction, Jim asks Deacon to stick around and lend his expertise, initially unaware of the tumultuous circumstances that led to his departure from the department five years prior. 

When more victims are found and a female jogger is reported missing, a series of clues lead Deacon to creepy, eccentric repair store employee Albert Sparma (Jared Leto). As the similarties between his unsolved killings and this case pile up, so again do Deacon's obsessions and mental fragility, with the two detectives certain they've found their guy. Crime officionado Sparma knows it, tangling both in his twisted web and taunting them to make a move in hopes it will lead to their self-destruction. And given their obsession with exposing him, he just may end up being right.  

If detectives with wildly differing personalities teamed to investigate murders is a painfully familiar trope, it's still one that can be very effective when properly executed. If nothing else, the script goes all out with Washington's Deacon having been transferred, demoted, divorced, already suffered a major health crisis, and experiencing traumatic flashbacks due to a mystery event that's eventually revealed.  Just about the only thing he isn't is an alcoholic a day away from retirement, though we can't be completely sure. All of it seems carefully piled on to make him seem more interesting and sympathetic than he actually is, when it's essentially just another take on the many law enforcement roles Washington's played over the past decade plus. Take your pick. 

Washington's character may brings little new to the table, but at least Malek's initially presents itself as something different. His Jim Baxter comes across as the type of "emotional vampire" Bret Easton Ellis could have written about in 1990, giving off vibes vibes of a sociopathic predator rather than a detective. Our suspicion this has more to do with Malek's performance than the writing is confirmed when that's abandoned and he settles into a much more recognizable cop role when Deacon starts riding with him. Aside from some early tension, there's not a lot of push-pull in this relationship, as they rarely challenge each other in philosophies, morality or criminology in any way as they search for clues to nail this guy. 

The film's title, as the characters take great pains in repeatedly telling us, refers to the little details detectives have to look for that lead them to the perpetrator. You know, like where their car was serviced or what kind of sandwiched they had for lunch. Well, no kidding. Watching this, you can't help but be reminded of Netflix's great, now cancelled series, Mindhunter, which provided the deepest of dives into the minds of serial killers through the men who were investigating them. That and the aforementioned Night Stalker case both featured dueling partners, and while's there's a deliberate, occasionally successful attempt at capturing the mood of both, the screenplay just never gets there, instead coming closer to James Patterson's latest Alex Cross installment. 

From his introductory interrogation scene on, Jared Leto leaves a sinister imprint as the suspected killer, infusing the proceeedings with a dose of much needed intrigue and psychology, as the detectives not only attempt to prove he's behind this, but what exactly makes him tick. It's probably the closest the this gets to becoming what it strives for, but even as delightfully skeevy and off-kilter as Leto's performance is (complete with greasy hair and a middle-age paunch), I couldn't help but wish it existed in a film with better ideas of what to do with it. 

The finale heads in a truly exhilarating, even unexpected direction until you realize that it hinges on a major character letting his guard down in a way that stretches believability based upon what we know about him. It also doesn't really amount to all that much, aside from drawing unfavorable comparisons to the infinitely superior Se7en. Despite that, you can still appreciate the intention of presenting a kind of contagious obsession between homocide cops and their cases. The extent to which any of it clicks can be attributed to Washington and Malek's performances, as it's hard not to be impressed by these two top talents bouncing off each another, regardless of what they have to work with. Even more noteworthy is composer Thomas Newman's elgiac score, which is pretty much head and shoulders above any other aspect of the film and arguably nomination-worthy under better circumstances.

Having written one of my all-time favorites in Clint Eastwood's A Perfect World and recently directed the underrated The Founder, Hancock is one of the more reliable mainstream filmmakers around, but this isn't a genre he's ever dipped into. So while it at least gives me some joy to report this is about as well directed as can be from a lacking script, he also wrote it, which makes the results a bit tougher to stomach. The Little Things is almost shockingly derivative of so many other works of crime fiction that you almost expect to see a head in a box before the closing credits arrive. Even its ending, arguably the film's strongest stretch, is undone in hindsight by the fact that it makes the whole enterprise feel like a waste of time, sending us right back to where we started, waiting for something more important to reveal itself.   

Burning Questions from the 2019 Oscars

Is it strange that after watching Bohemian Rhapsody, a "real" Queen performance felt somewhat disappointing?

Can it be a "real" Queen performance with a certain member missing?

Doesn't Adam Lambert have some big shoes to fill?

Was it intentional that the stage look like Donald Trump's hair?

After the first montage, were you worried that that's how they'd fill time without a host?

Were you relieved when Tina Fey, Amy Poehler and Maya Rudolph came out?

Did everyone breath a sigh of Oscar pool relief when Regina King won?

Does it make you (me) feel old that Regina King is now playing a grandmother?

Now that she has an Oscar, do you think she even cares?

Already keeping the censors busy on the second award?

Tom Morello introducing Vice?

Were you thinking Black Panther upsetting in Costume Design an omen for things to come?

Did that feeling double when it won production design?

Surprisingly, are you starting to feel the absence of a host?

But isn't the show moving along for a change?

Isn't that RBG song kind of awful?

Aren't all of Diane Warren's nominated songs?

Serena Williams?

Can we to assume the Academy didn't see last year's U.S. Open Final before inviting her?

Aren't you glad we weren't lectured again on the differences between Sound Editing and Sound Mixing?

8 awards given within the first hour?

This has to be some kind of record, right?

Aren't you just waiting for the show to suddenly come to a screeching halt and drag so it can end after midnight?

Should we start considering now whether Roma winning for Best Foreign Language Film helps or hurt its Best Picture chances?

Does Michael Keaton presenting remind me how he should have won for both Birdman and at least been nominated for The Founder?

Why did I let anyone talk me into to picking Vice for Editing?

How awesome was it that Laura Dern came out to the Jurassic Park theme?

Other than Bohemian Rhapsody, is Spider-Verse the 2018 film that most exceeded expectations?

Isn't that Buster Scruggs song, um, different?

Is it some kind of cruel joke that my power went out before Brie Larson presented?

Is it another cruel joke that Sam Jackson had to present the Original Screenplay Oscar to Green Book?

Didn't he look thrilled when it won?

Is Spike Lee ever going to win an Oscar?

Did they turn that f****ing clock on?

So, was that Gaga/Cooper performance any good?

Was it yet another cruel joke that my power came back in time for the In Memoriam montage?

I didn't miss Mike Myers and Dana Carvey...did I?

Was that the most subdued In Memoriam segment they've ever had?

Isn't that how it should be?

Did you see everyone fly out of their seats when Rami Malek name was read?

Do they like that guy or what?

Doesn't this feel like as much a win for Freddie Mercury as it does for Malek?

Isn't that proof that the right person won?

Think USA is kicking themselves for not ordering more seasons of Mr. Robot right about now?

Shouldn't Rami be glad they didn't?

Olivia Colman???!!!

Would anyone begrudge Glenn Close for being completely devastated?

Was she half out of her seat, paper in hand?

Do I look like a fool now for saying Close had her Career Achievement Oscar all locked up?

Doesn't everyone?

Did this just single-handedly ruin everyone's chances for a sweep in the Oscar Pool?

Honestly, wasn't it ruined way before that?

Best Director, already?

ABC has to be pleased with this abbreviated show, right?

Are you thinking "We'll see when the ratings come in?"

Didn't it just feel like there would be a Best Picture upset before the winner was even read?

Green Book??!!!

Why does it suddenly seem like we've taken a time machine back to 1989?

Do you think Spike Lee threw a tantrum?

If anyone's throwing a fit, shouldn't it be Glenn Close?

Have I ever done this poorly on my predictions?

Does this mean we're in for our annual conversation about overhauling the Academy...again?

Was the show really that short or did it just seem that way because I lost power halfway through?

Does this mean we'll actually get some sleep?

Can this host come back next year?

Bohemian Rhapsody

Director: Bryan Singer
Starring: Rami Malek, Lucy Boynton, Gwilym Lee, Ben Hardy, Joe Mazzello, Allen Leech, Aiden Gillan, Tom Hollander, Mike Myers, Aaron McCusker
Running Time: 134 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

Some music artists simply transcend the band with which they were a part, to the point that you even have a tough time even recalling the other members' names, regardless of their enormous contributions. There may be no better example of this in all of rock than Freddie Mercury and Queen. We could talk all day about how Bryan Singer's Bohemian Rhapsody is really a story about the band and that Brian May, Roger Taylor and John Deacon spent years behind the scenes making sure that  would shine through on screen. But make no mistake about it. The film was always only going to be about one man: Freddie Mercury. Queen IS Freddie Mercury. Freddie Mercury IS Queen.

Despite taking great pains to specifically detail and show what each member brought to the table, even going so far as to imply he couldn't musically survive without them, Mercury's shadow will always engulf them. As it should. There's something to be said for giving the fans what they want. Freddie always did, and now he's at the center of a film that does just the same, helping to explain how audiences worldwide have embraced what's been categorized by critics as a by-the-numbers music biopic. And to an extent, that's true.

Controlling parents, egomaniacal genius, failed marriage, self-loathing, band break-up, sex, drugs, record label disputes. It checks all the boxes. Even Mercury's audacity and eccentricity both on and off stage are qualities we've come to recognize in our rock stars. But before Freddie they weren't, and what the film really excels at (and hasn't gotten enough credit for) is in reflecting that breakthrough. And the turmoil brewing inside of a man who just wanted to perform, while still struggling to figure out exactly who he is. The cultural timing also feels right because Queen might just be one of the few classic rock bands that could still be considered underappreciated. It's not a coincidence that among a dream lineup of legendary artists that played 1985's epic Live Aid benefit concert, it's their performance rather than The Who's, The Stones', Bowie's or U2's that's most remembered today. More accurately, it's Mercury's.

The film wisely opens by teasing that concert and closes by taking us there, recreating a watershed cultural moment with chill-inducing emotional and historical accuracy. While many thrills come in seeing Queen get their due, Rami Malek's performance deserves more credit than the actual picture, which is fittingly only following his lead. At first, you're not sure what to make of it, until he submerges himself deeper and deeper, to the point that it becomes frightening just how much of a disappearing act it is. There's no trace of the performer left, leaving us to contemplate what it could have been like to experience Freddie Mercury as a person and performer, along with all the complications and contradictions that entail, not to mention the theatricality.  He's such a fascinating figure that the film can afford to just simply do its job and call it a day. 

It's 1970 when college student and airport baggage handler Farrokh "Freddie" Bulsara (Malek) goes to a London pub to see the band, Smile. Upon learning their lead singer just quit, Freddie, who's been writing his own songs, offers himself up as a replacement to guitarist Brian May (Gwilym Lee) and drummer Roger Taylor (Ben Hardy). At the show, he also meets a young woman named Mary Austin (Lucy Boynton), whom he begins to date and eventually marries. After taking Freddie on as their lead singer and adding John Deacon (Joe Mazzello) as bass guitarist, the band is rechristened "Queen," with  Bulsara legally adopting the name "Freddie Mercury."

Touring across Britain and selling out smaller venues everywhere, the band soon attracts the attention of famed music manager John Reid (Aiden Gillan). With a record deal and a hit album, they tour the U.S. and only grow bigger from there. But Freddie keeps wanting more, as he internally comes to grips with his own sexuality and takes bad advice from manager and self-serving hanger-on Paul Prenter (Allen Leech). With Queen in shambles due to his selfishness, Freddie heads down a path of personal and professional ruin by the late 70's. But before he can vanquish his own demons, he'll need to make amends with his own past, as well as the only family he's ever known.

Feeling most like a standard musical biopic in its detailing of Queen's formative years as an act, criticism has swirled aroubd the fact that dates and chronology were altered to fit the needs of the narrative, condensing key events in Mercury and the band's timeline. It's kind of surprising it's become an issue when far less accomplished biopics are routinely guilty of the same offense, if you can call it that. This isn't a documentary and unless the changes were due to some unintentional oversight (unlikely given Queen's direct involvement), they should only be judged in context of whether it detracts from the story. In this case, it doesn't at all. That these alterations have caused an uproar is more of a testament to how the media enjoys tearing down biopics and showing off their knowledge that that's not "exactly" how it happened.

It's easy to see how a strict, inflexible adherence to every facet of Freddie Mercury's life could easily do more harm than good, stifling the momentum of the narrative and removing any shred of unpredictability. Plus, wouldn't those nitpicking about historical accuracy then only shift their complaints to how safely the movie played it by sticking straight to the facts, in the exact order they happened? And besides, doing that would deprive us of the the film's most memorable scene. 

The scene in question comes when Queen and their lawyer Jim "Miami" Beach (Tom Hollander) are unsuccessfully pitching the six-minute "Bohemian Rhapsody" as the first single for their forthcoming "A Night at the Opera" album to doubting EMI executive Ray Foster (an unrecognizably great Mike Myers). We'll never know whether the events in that room played out exactly as they're depicted, but it's the kind of scene you can easily imagine did given what we know about the 70's music scene and that song, then years away from being appreciated as the group's magnum opus.

So to hear how unmarketable and inaccessible the song is it is out of the mouth of the actor partially responsible for introducing it to a new generation in the 90's, not only makes for an unforgettable meta moment. More surreal than seeing the blistering reviews scroll down the screen are the preceding scenes of them recording the song, which comes as a flicker in Mercury's mind that he makes his bandmates harness. In fact, most of the film consists of them trying to keep up with his energy and creativity.

Malek's performance couldn't exactly be considered a slow burn since everything in this picture moves at such a rapid pace, but his full immersion into the role does kind of sneak up on you. Concealing his Indian heritage and sparring with his demanding father, Freddie escapes from himself through music. And with it, realizes who he truly wants to be, evolving from an introspective lanky kid uncomfortable in his own skin to a wild showman discovering his true outlet onstage. It's here where he feels most at home, and it's when that rock star persona overtakes his life that Malek's embodiment of Mercury kicks into high gear.

Taking over a role originally intended for Sacha Baron Cohen (who exited early due to creative differences), much as been made of the fake teeth, the mannerisms, gestures and voice Malek invokes to physically transform himself. And he does, baring more than just a mere passing resemblance to the late singer. But it's when Freddie flies off the rails with drugs and debauchery in the last third of the film that you realize how much further the actor's gone than just physically channeling him.

The celebrity of "Freddie Mercury" soon infests his inner circle, allowing him to let indulgence and excess get in the way of what matters most. His marriage may have been doomed from the start, but the difference here is that the relationship with Mary doesn't end so much as radically change, creating a fairly unusual situation, as the two remain friends while Freddie wrestles and eventually comes to terms with his sexuality. And, of course, the eventual AIDS diagnosis that the screenplay and Malek handle just right, avoiding disease of the week movie tropes. 

It's true that the other members of Queen are supporting players who probably don't register as strongly as they should. Of them, Gwilym Lee accomplishes the most as Brian May, but even that's stretching it, as this was never going to be about any one of them individually. Nor should it be. What it does convey well is what they collectively contributed and Freddie's ultimate legacy, perfectly encapsulated by Malek in the film's thrilling final 40 minutes, taking you as close as possible to their 1985 Live Aid performance without literally being there. It's frighteningly accurate.

A Queen movie was always going to be a tightrope walk. That we've somehow gotten a PG-13 version that not only feels uncompromised, but does justice to Mercury and the band's significance feels like a miracle given all the problems that befell this production. We're still not even sure who to credit for directing it. Far from perfect, events and timelines are altered, liberties taken and dates changed. On the surface, there doesn't even seem to be much too it. And yet, Bohemian Rhapsody is still so ridiculously entertaining because it deeply understands what Queen and Freddie Mercury left us and the only thing that really matters: the music. 

2019 Oscar Nominations (Reaction and Analysis)

For those wondering whether my recent reviewing inactivity meant I wasn't watching or at least following the films embroiled in this year's Oscar race, it's time to put that theory to bed. I have been and will pretty soon be publishing a single post rundown of at least four of them to avoid things backing up any further. As for Tuesday morning's announcement of the nominations for the 91st Annual Academy Awards (full list here) by Kumail Nanjiani and Tracee Ellis Ross, it went well. Or at least better than last year's farce with every other nominee's name being misprounced by a popular comic actress. While the format was almost too laid back and missing the big press conference atmosphere, both were pros who appeared to enjoy being there doing it. So, considering the Academy's recently abandoned attempt at a "Popular Film" category and having no present host for the show, the nominations basically went off without a hitch.

Let's face it: No one's happy when their favorites are left off or tune in on February 24th to see a handful of films nominated they've never heard of. But the Academy's recent efforts to make the Oscars more "popular" reeks of corporate greed since they're only responding to network ratings pressure. And for the record, the Oscars are annually still the highest rated awards telecast despite the fact that no one even watches broadcast TV anymore. So, sorry, ABC can bite the bullet once a year while hardcore film fanatics enjoy the night, however long it may stretch

Ironically though, with the gap between critics and audiences still growing by the minute, quite a few immensely popular movies got in and the media and public outcry for a more diverse field was heard. We also a have the first superhero movie nominated for Best Picture, as well as Netflix and other streaming services really breaking through for the first time. Me? I just want to see the best work nominated and let the cards fall where they may. It's time to find out how AMPAS did this year, with some of the more noteworthy takeaways:

-  Netflix's Roma and arthouse, um, favorite, The Favourite lead the field with 10 noms a piece and are joined in the Best Picture category by the more popular entries Black Panther, BlacKkKlansman, Bohemian Rhapsody, Green Book, A Star is Born and Vice. We get an 8 film field this year.

-Barry Jenkins' If Beale Street Could Talk and Damien Chazelle's First Man are left out of the Best Picture race, denying us a rematch between the Moonlight and La La Land directors. In the case of the former, it just couldn't pick up enough steam throughout the season outside of Regina King's supporting performance, while First Man was darker and more introspective than anyone expected from a film about Neil Armstrong. On the plus side, it did well in the technical categories and is still highly regarded by many, if not the Academy. Predicted Gosling snub aside, it even failed to snag a supporting nod for Claire Foy.

-What happened to A Star is Born? A month ago it was a lock for EVERYTHING. Now, compared to those (unreasonably?) high expectations, it may as well be considered an awards flop. Plenty of think pieces will surely be written about what went wrong, but Bradley Cooper snubbed for Director? The saddest part is that it isn't even much of a surprise given he hasn't won anything up to this point. While it's hard to call any movie's 8 nomination tally disappointing, Cooper and Gaga look very shaky in their categories and previous sure bet Sam Elliott is quickly losing traction to Green Book's Mahershala Ali in Supporting. The film's expected triumph in Best Original Song with "Shallow" just might be its sole win, assuming that isn't also now in jeopardy.

-Marvel's Black Panther (with its over $1 billion worldwide box office take) becomes the first superhero movie nominated for Best Picture, thus opening the flood gates. Or maybe not. If the quality's there, then fine. But I can't be the only one who's a little nervous they'll start nominating lesser ones. Or, after getting this out of their system, wait years before rewarding another again? Regardless of how many statues it takes home, it has changed the game.

-Bohemian Rhapsody's continued dominance (with 5 nominations) is the biggest movie story of the past year, especially if you know how troubled that entire production was and the road it took to even get to the screen, and successfully no less. Even if we're still not completely sure who directed it. But good for Rami Malek. I'm sure few thought he'd be in this spot right now competing against Vice's Chistian Bale as a frontrunner for Best Actor.

-No slight on him but Willem Dafoe (At Eternity's Gate) clearly got the underdog Best Actor spot so many hoped would go to Ethan Hawke for his critically lauded, career best work as an emotionally tormented minister in First Reformed. Instead, we'll have to settle for a first time Original Screenplay nod for Taxi Driver writer Paul Schrader, suddenly the comeback kid at age 72.

-No supporting or lead nominations for both Timothee Chamalet (Beautiful Boy) or John David Washington (BlacKkKlansman), respectively. But something had to give. There are so many slots and and a certain number of performances that can fill them. Many get left out, and it's rarely a reflection on the work. These are two unfortunate examples of such a casualty.

-Glenn Close has Best Actress locked up, with Lady Gaga, Roma's Yalitza Aparicio, The Favourite's Oliva Colman and Can You Ever Forgive Me?'s Melissa McCarthy sure to be clapping on the sidelines when she wins her career achievement award. It's a narative that's only begun to come into view in recent weeks, with The Wife gaining serious momentum thanks to her rousing acceptance speeches.  Is Emily Blunt's ommisson for Mary Poppins Returns really that much of a surprise? Given the Academy's tastes, it may be. And Elsie Fisher getting recognized for Eighth Grade was always a pie-in-the-sky longshot, mostly due to their aversion to nominating kids in lead categories.

-Spike Lee is finally nominated for Best Director for one of his most commericial and challenging pictures yet, BlacKkKlansman. Except it's starting to feel like 1989 all over again with Peter Farrelly's crowd pleasing race relations drama Green Book playing the Driving Miss Daisy to Lee's Do The Right Thing in the Best Picture Race. With its recent PGA win, it really might be the frontrunner, save for the fact that Farrelly himself isn't nominated. Was recognizing the filmmaker behind Dumb and Dumber and There's Something About Mary too far a bridge for the Academy to cross? More likely, Green Book just seems like less of a director's achievement than the competition.

-They sure do love the polarizing Vice, with Adam McKay sneaking in with a mild surprise nod. Roma's Alfonso Cuarón and Cold War's Pawel Pawlikowski (unseating Cooper in the only real "shocker") become the first pair of directors of foreign language pictures to make the cut in this category, and both for black and white lensed films.

-No documentary nomination for Won't You Be My Neighbor? has to be the most egregious snub of this year's nominations. Hands down. We know they have a history of crazy decisions in this category, but there's just simply no excuse here. The outrage is justified.

-Heading into the show it seems to be a 3-way race between Roma, Green Book and, to a slightly lesser extent, Bohemian Rhapsody. Of course, we also know how that could change.

Mr. Robot (Season 1)

 

Creator: Sam Esmail
Starring: Rami Malek, Carly Chaikin, Portia Doubleday, Martin Wallström, Christian Slater, Michael Cristofer, Stephanie Corneliussen, Michel Gill, Gloria Reuben, Ben Rappaport, BD Wong, Sakina Jaffrey
Original Airdate: 2015

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

                                                **Spoiler Warning: This Review Reveals Some Plot Points**

There's this myth that there are only about five or six stories capable of being told and the rest are just variations on them. I rarely thought about that theory until watching USA network's award-winning drama, Mr. Robot, which doesn't necessarily give us a something new as much as it takes what we already know and ties it in knots. But it's in how writer/creator Sam Esmail executes it and the techniques he employs that further push the boundaries of what we thought was possible on cable television.

Mr. Robot  Title card

While it's easy to categorize it as the most ambitious drama to hit the air since Breaking Bad's final episode and a hyperkinetic thrill ride from start to finish, expounding any more on the details is a tricky proposition. On paper, it had to be a tough sell and there are still unquestionably a few kinks that need working out, but it's satisfying just to know that its best season may still be ahead. Ten episodes are built on a foundation and premise that could have completely collapsed had Esmail and his terrific cast not sidestepped nearly all of the potential pitfalls to deliver a TV season so timely and prescient that it's scary.

The series wears its influences on its sleeve, causing detractors to slam it as being derivative of other works, which is somewhat missing the point. The best way to think of it is as a pop culture mixed media project, throwing such jarringly contemporary works as Fight Club, V For Vendetta, Dexter, The Matrix, American Psycho, A Clockwork Orange, Eyes Wide Shut, House of Cards, Black Swan, Star Wars and Hackers in a blender and emerging with this kind of bizarre Kubrick/Fincher hybrid that still holds its own in the originality department. And this, somehow, made it to the USA Network. Visually, it breaks new ground for the medium and as off-putting as it seems that I'd reference so many other pop culture staples, Esmail's debt to them is more often felt than conciously seen, as you're too invested in his story to care much about influences.

If 2015 had a time capsule, this series would be a good candidate to go in it, not necessarily because it's the best or will hold up exceptionally well years down the road (reliance on current technology may harm those prospects), but because it reveals the most about where we're at now. Conformity, social media, the economy, corporate malfeseance, wealth distribution, corruption, capitalism, the 1%. At this point, I'm just throwing out words, which is all that can really be done with Mr. Robot without revealing the plot and overall sensory experience accompanying it. Is it perfect? Absolutely not, as the season's arc loses a bit of steam in the last third, an almost necessary consequence to the twists and turns that proceed it.  There's probably one or two of those too many, nearly beating the audience into submission long before its finale. But in retrospect it provides an adrenaline-filled experience that's gone unrivaled in entertainment over the past year.

Elliot Alderson (Rami Malek)

Elliot Alderson (Rami Malek) is a depressed, anxiety-ridden twenty something security engineer living in New York City and working for the cybersecurity firm, Allsafe, with his childhood friend, Angela Moss (Portia Doubleday). Uncomfortable in nearly all social situations and constantly in need of legal and illegal drugs to even make it through the day, his only connection to people is through computer hacking, using his technological instincts to gain access to their sordid pasts, which frequently reveals criminal activity. A cyber vigilante of sorts, he doesn't hesitate in using that information to blackmail them, especially if he feels it's deserved.

The game changes when Elliot's approached by a mysterious hacker named Mr. Robot (Christian Slater) who wants his help in taking down Allsafe's most valuable client, the Enron-like E Corp (complete with a crooked E logo), one of the most powerful and corrupt companies in the world, headed up by Machiavellian CEO, Phillip Price (Michael Cristofer). Only Mr. Robot isn't just a hacker, but an anarchist recruiting Elliot for an underground group of hacktivists known simply as "fsociety," which includes the grungy, rebellious Darlene (Carly Chaikin), who seems immediately suspicious of the newbie.  Riling up the public with threatening viral underground videos, its public face is a mask that looks like a cross between infamous Gunpowder Plot member and V for Vendetta/Anonymous inspiration Guy Fawkes and Monopoly's Uncle Pennybags.

Bringing a whole new meaning and intimacy to the idea of an unreliable narrator, the pilot (eps1.0_hellofriend.mov) brings us deep inside the fragile psyche of Elliot, for whom the simplest of human interactions, both at home and at work, are becoming a near-impossible challenge. He's more open with us, the audience, than his therapist, Kristen (Gloria Reuben) or boss, Gideon (Michael Gill), perhaps the only two truly moral characters this show will have. Ranting about society's ills and his failure to fit in with Fight Club-esque interior monologues, he's psychologically weakened and ripe for the picking by the time Slater's repairman-looking Mr. Robot gets to him.

E Corp's creepy Tyrell Wellick

With Robot in need of a brilliant hacker to help execute his grand plan of deleting all debt records to incite a digital revolution, Elliot seems to fit the bill perfectly. But as his commitment to fsociety grows, so too does his anxiety and drug use, blurring the lines between what's real and imagined for both him and the viewer. Resistance comes in the form of E Corp's interim CTO, Tyrell Wellick (Martin Wallström), a Patrick Bateman clone and sociopathic corporate climber who takes a sudden interest in Elliot's activities, while leading a secret life of his own with his even more deranged and controlling wife, Joanna (Stephanie Corneliussen). There's also a third party involved in all this known as the Dark Army, led by a mysterious transgender named whiterose (BD Wong), whose allegiance isn't completely clear.

If there's an episode where we first discover what Mr. Robot is as a series it would be the hallucinatory fourth (eps1.3_da3m0ns.mp4) during which fsociety's plans escalate just as Elliot is suffering from severe drug withdrawal. Taking place mostly in his mind, it's important in establishing not only the severity of his problems, but the notion that we can never be sure whether to believe what we're seeing or hearing in this show, especially if it's coming from Elliot. Torn between just crawling into a cave to disappear and being actively involved in real social disruption at the highest level, there's this internal battle going on that's best represented by his desire to help strung-out neighbor and sort of girlfriend, Shayla (Frankie Shaw).

Of course, the more Elliot tries to help, the worse things get, as his past and relationship to Angela and Mr. Robot, inform a lot of this, as details are frequently revealed through flashbacks and even passing dialogue. But most of just trickles out, with Esmail's writing and Malek's manic, wide-eyed performance rewarding viewers' attentiveness. Minute-to-minute, we're never quite sure whether the character's crusading actions are doing far more harm then good, such as in episode six (eps1.5_br4ve-trave1er.asf) when his hacking eventually carries tragic consequences for someone close to him. Without Malek's pitch-perfect portrayal of Elliot's crippling loneliness and isolation, it's easy to imagine him being an impossible character to root for considering the morally questionable actions he takes to achieve his goals.

Mr. Robot lectures Elliot

After years of false starts and stops, Christian Slater's finally made the comeback he's been gunning for, this time with quality material supporting him and bringing out the best of his talents. What's so fun about the performance is how it needs to be re-evaluated and viewed through a new lens after the season's conclusion, calling into question everything you thought you understood about his acting choices and the character himself. The same is true for Portia Doubleday's Angela, who begins the season headed firmly in one direction, seemingly as obsessed with ridding society of Evil Corp as Elliot due to their shared personal history. Where she ends up by the final episode is a far different place, and while Doubleday sells this transformation as well as possible, it's abrupt, leaving some needed room for further explanation in Season 2.

Coming out of nowhere, with only two previous credits to his name, Esmail doesn't believe in explanations, at least not yet. Visually staggering, with actors unusually positioned in the frame and hypnotic work from cinematographer Tim Ives that rivals anything on the big screen, the images in Mr. Robot tend to linger even longer in the mind than its twisty narrative machinations. Even the show's 80's arcade-style title card (randomly popping up during its cold open) is a thrill to behold, as you're never quite sure when during the scene it'll appear. And music supervisor Mac Quayle's throwback electronic synth score and the frequently off-kilter song selections serve to only reinforce the show's unsettling, paranoid atmosphere.

There comes a point in this season where a major reveal is made. Some will see it coming from the jump. Others won't. But from that episode on, it's clear Mr. Robot becomes a radically different series than when it began. It's a risky decision to essentially erase so much of the mystery accompanying the first half of the season and completely change the game. While I'm still not yet sure the gamble pays off, it now places viewers in a position where they're constantly doubting whether certain events or characters are even real. That's a dangerous creative move to make unless there's a solid long term plan in place.

Fsociety puts its best face on

Esmail pulls the rug out not just once, but twice, over the course of these ten episodes, expecting audiences to trust him and go along for the ride, even as one of those moves marginalizes one of the best performances on the show. And yet all of it is so skillfully laid out that you really want to take him at his word when he states that this season was only the prologue of the first act of his feature-length screenplay. Having been burned so many times before with claims like these, it's easy to be skeptical.

As Vince Gilligan proved with Breaking Bad, adjusting on the fly isn't necessarily a weakness when it comes to creating great dramatic TV. But for every one of those there's also a Lost or The X-Files, alienating fans who believe the showrunners are literally making things up as they go along. While there are definitely indications of the latter at work, you can just as easily imagine Esmail delivering on his promise since this truly is like nothing currently on TV right now.

While the last few episodes of Mr. Robot don't necessarily come to a pulse-pounding crescendo, it still delivers on a payoff many would have deemed unlikely, if not impossible at, the season's start. And a cliffhanger. The question now becomes: Where can it possibly go from here? Topping this while still satisfyingly forging forward will be the biggest challenge ahead. As the first few episodes of Season 2 have already proven, this series, like its protagonist, has no designs on making any compromises for mainstream acceptance.

Short Term 12

Director: Destin Daniel Cretton
Starring: Brie Larson, John Gallagher Jr, Kaitlyn Dever, Rami Malek, Keith Stanfield, Kevin Hernandez, Melora Walters, Frantz Turner, Alex Calloway
Running Time: 97 min.
Rating: R

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

You can just tell when a movie's telling the truth. When a movie's being completely honest, no strings are being pulled and no games being played. It's like you're disappearing into the lives of the characters, and only when the final credits roll is it possible to entertain the fact they're not real people. Going on description alone, Short Term 12 almost has no business being as great as it is. On paper, there's nothing particularly remarkable about the story. The cast is comprised mostly of unknowns, while writer/director Destin Cretton is similarly untested. And yet, despite a tiny budget and very little promotion, the small indie feels bigger than any blockbuster because all the cogs in the machine are working in perfect harmony. Despite being one of the best reviewed films of the year, it still somehow manages to overperform, exceeding those expectations by simply keeping it raw and real.

The theatrical poster captures a scene I was curious to see play out in the actual film to discover its context. It turns out to be its final one, but revealing that spoils nothing since all of the film's power is contained in each minute leading up to it. It's ultimately a story about stories. Stories people tell themselves and others to get through the pain and those they tell to conceal the truth of what they're actually going through. It's also a reminder how many trudge through life with all kinds of buried problems no one even knows about, somehow able to normally function. Until finally they can't. And at its core is the best performance given by any actor, male or female, in the past year. 

Grace (Brie Larson) is a twenty-something supervisor at Short Term 12, a group home facility for troubled teens. In most cases, it's just a short stop before they get where they're going. Hopefully it's home, even if for some that may not be such a hopeful scenario. Her co-worker and live-in boyfriend is Mason (John Gallagher Jr.) and the film opens with both of them showing quiet new employee Nate (Rami Malek) the ropes and explaining rules and procedures. Their job isn't to be these kids' friends or therapists, but make sure they stay out of trouble and keep occupied with various activities. It's more exhausting than it seems, as most are still wrestling with the emotional issues that landed them there, causing the job to sometimes more closely resemble that of a parole or corrections officer than a social worker.

If a kid escapes and leaves the grounds, they can be followed, but that's it. They're basically gone. The arrival of Jayden (Kaitlyn Dever), a morose teen with a history of self-harm brings a painful personal event to the surface for Grace that she's long buried. Something not even Mason knows and she's willing to destroy their relationship to avoid talking about. Sensing a girl silently crying out for help in a way only she seems to recognize, Grace breaks the rules, reaching out to Kaitlyn, putting both her job and relationship in jeopardy, while painfully confronting her own emotional demons.

From the minute this starts, it feels as if we've been dropped in a documentary about troubled teens and the counselors who work with them. It looks and sounds that authentic, as if we're seeing non-rehearsed moments we shouldn't even be allowed to witness. Those who have worked in a facility like this would obviously have a better idea of how close to reality this veers, but considering Cretton spent time at such a facility for a few months (before turning his real-life experience into the short student film this is expanded from) it's safe to say it's probably pretty accurate. That Grace is the picture of competence and composure at her job makes all that comes later that much more powerful when she's unable to take her own advice. It's different when it's you. Her and Mason at work is a case study in itself since they use all these little tricks to control the kids and earn their respect, if even just temporarily. There are little nuggets of this in every scene, especially evident when they're training the newbie and we see all the things he does wrong, yet also some of the potential buried within those rookie mistakes. There seems to be a constant battle between following protocol and being there for the kids, but not too much.

When the bomb drops about Grace's past, the film doesn't treat it as a shock or surprise because it isn't. It was all there the whole time in Brie Larson's performance, which is what makes it such a tightrope walk. We know Grace because we know people just like her. One of the toughest things to convey as actor are hidden reserves of surprising strength or deep pain. In this role Larson is able to do both, sometimes at once, and because we start with so much respect for the character and her relationship with her boyfriend and to these teens, when she's forced to pull back the curtain on her life, the reveal is almost unbearable to take. Brought to her knees emotionally by her own past, we see her go from a pillar of strength to someone who barely has enough confidence to function.  After being the best thing in an already very good 21 Jump Street and bringing a little more to ex-girlfriend parts in Scott Pilgrim and The Spectacular Now, it seemed Larson was following a trajectory similar to that of Emma Stone, which wouldn't have been bad at all. But this changes things. It was hard to predict her capable of digging so deep this soon.

The film's centerpiece scene is the telling of a children's story, carried by the performances of Larson and a revelatory Kaitlyn Dever, along with some really great writing. There's something pure and innocent about the simplicity of a brilliantly conceived children's story, so hearing one delivered in the context it is here makes the revelation coming from it more heartbreaking than if it were presented any other way. Despite coming from the mind of a screenwriter, there's never any doubt hearing it unfold that it's from from the pen of a teenager reaching out for help the only way she knows how. More signs the script is firing on all cylinders comes in the depiction of Grace's boss, Jack (Frantz Turner), who can't act on her pleas that a girl's in serious trouble. It's not that he's an idiot who doesn't listen or an incompetent supervisor as would be the case in a lesser film, but rather because his hands are tied legally. He's a rational guy who cares about the kids and understands Grace's frustration, while also realizing he has to let a valuable employee vent a little and take it out on him. He's also trying to do the best he can, which is a surprisingly nuanced touch for a character that could so easily be a movie stereotype.

This isn't to say the entire film revolves around Jayden and her problems, or even Grace being forced to confront hers. 18-year-old resident Marcus (Keith Stanfield), is struggling with the fact he'll be leaving the facility and worried what awaits him on the other side. His situation is just as compelling as Jayden's, even if we know far less about it. Stanfield's the only actor from Cretton's original short to return for the feature and his frequently wordless performance carries enough quite intensity and vulnerability to tell us all we need about his past, as does the actor/rapper's unforgettable, self-penned song, "So You Know What It's Like."

There are are so many ways this project could have gone wrong. We've seen it before. Tackling this subject matter almost always leads to eye rolls when filmmakers completely bypass the cold, hard truth in favor of taking a sappy, falsely inspirational route. You can argue all day what exactly makes a "perfect" movie, analyzing the acting, writing, directing and cinematography until you're blue in the face, and while this surely comes up aces in those categories, it's always those unpredictable intangible factors that come together to create the total package. Most are invisible. Short Term 12 is listed as running 97 minutes but it could have been 80 minutes or three hours and I wouldn't have noticed the difference. When you're this absorbed, time disappears and the movie's over in the blink of an eye. You can almost hear the slam of a book closing, as the story reaches its logical conclusion, not because someone chose to end it, but because it's over. Cretton and his actors make magic and everyone should see it.