Nightmare Alley

Director: Guillermo del Toro
Starring: Bradley Cooper, Cate Blanchett, Rooney Mara, Toni Collette, Willem Dafoe, Richard Jenkins, Ron Perlman, David Strathairn, Mary Steenburgen, Peter MacNeill, Holt McCallany, Paul Anderson, Jim Beaver, Clifton Collins, Jr., Tim Blake Nelson
Running Time: 150 min.
Rating: R 

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Part remake, part noir homage, Guillermo del Toro's Nightmare Alley will likely go down as one of those more respectable reimaginings that gets more right than wrong, making for an immersive, entirely agreeable experience. Free of the supernatural elements that have categorized much of del Toro's work, all the attention shifts to the soullessness and moral corruption that resides within. And there isn't a much better a setting for that than traveling sideshow carnivals of the 30's and 40's, populated by downtrodden characters being either used, abused or manipulated as scams and cons run amok. With a script from del Toro and co-writer Kim Morgan, the second feature adaptation of William Lindsay Gresham's 1946 novel doesn't stray too far from the source material in the narrative sense, instead stylistically distinguishing itself in a class of its own, as del Toro's output tends to. 

With a stacked, all-star-cast and awe inspiring production design, the plot's essentially one long con game, and while the second half payoff's considerably more impactful than what precedes it, the whole setup looks better in retrospect, especially once the story arrives at its inevitably tragic destination. There's a certain aesthetic superficiality at play that matches its characters, so even while it doesn't transcend the horror genre to evolve into something more profound, you'd still be hard-pressed to find a a movie of its ilk more technically proficient or firing on as many cylinders.

It's 1939 and Stanton Carlisle (Cooper) takes a job as a carny after burning down his house with a dead body inside. When the carnival's owner, Clem Hoatley (Willem Dafoe) recruits him to help with the show's geek, who's fallen ill, Stan moves up to begin working with clairvoyant Madame Zeena (Toni Colette) and her alcoholic husband, Pete Krumbein (David Strathairn), who teaches him the secrets of their act. While learning and studying their cold reading and coded language tactics, he begins to fall for shy performer Molly Cahill (Rooney Mara), offering up some valuable new ideas for her electrocution act. But after Pete dies from consuming wood alcohol, Stan takes the lessons he's learned on the road with Molly as his assistant, leaving their carnival days behind to reinvent himself as a psychic act for Buffalo's wealthy elite. 

Ignoring Pete's warnings about leading people on when it comes to contacting the deceased, Stan's bluff is called by mysterious psychologist Dr. Lilith Ritter (Cate Blanchett), who attempts to publicly expose  his act as a fraud, with little success. Humiliated but intrigued by the scammer, she offers him a deal involving a rich but potentially dangerous patient named Ezra Grindle (Richard Jenkins) whose lover died years ago from a forced abortion. Despite Molly's objections, Stan makes promises to Grindle about his late partner he may not be able to keep, ensnaring himself in a web of lies and deceit from which there may be no escape. 

What makes this all mostly work is that there's just enough revelations and twists in the script, while still remaining relatively simple at its core. Themes of greed, avarice and betrayal are front and center, eventually coming full circle in a powerful ending, but not before some convoluted happenings occur along the way. Del Toro strikes just the right tone, especially in the early carnival scenes that set Stan on his dark path, eventually dragging Mara's Molly down along with him, though she admittedly registers a bit flat as a character.

Cooper's incredibly effective depiction of the protagonist's transformation from wide-eyed, ambitious awe into obsessive greediness is facilitated by the supporting cast. Whether it's Strathairn's hopeless drunk, Collette's tarot reader or Dafoe's swindling huckster, they all more than carry their share of the load. As does Tamara Deverell's production design and Dan Laustsen's cinematography, which immerses them all in this weathered, dirty, depressing "freak show" world. That this was also released in black and white actually makes a lot of sense, as it's hard to think of any recent picture with a content and visual style better suited to that treatment without it feeling like a gimmick. 

It isn't until Stan takes his act on the road with Molly and encounters Dr. Ritter that the movie really comes alive, with the possibility presenting itself that the ultimate player has finally met his match.  Blanchett's femme fatale looms largest of any character, bringing a cunning, seductive sense of danger and intrigue to Ritter with each carefully calculated move she makes. Her nomination-worthy performance is the ideal fit for this material, with the chemistry she shares with Cooper fueling the film's most tension-filled moments, even as it's clear the direction del Toro's heading in the last act. 

There are clues and brief flashbacks emphasizing a past Stan needs to run far away from, but can't, no matter how hard he tries. With this mentalist show, he's devised a one-way ticket to the big time, unaware his own weaknesses are about to be exploited and exposed as callously as his clients have been by him. What starts as a scheme goes entirely too far, his eventual comeuppance arriving in the final scene, sentenced to the very life he so desperately tried to escape, at any cost imaginable.    

Even as Del Toro's direction trumps the script, you'd often never know it, as the atmosphere and performances carry the day, specifically Bradley Cooper's. Further extending his run as maybe the most consistently reliable actor and movie star working today, he delivers again with his portrayal of this ambitious, narcissistic carny more than willing to sell his soul, or anyone else's, for a quick buck. Relentlessly depressing and darkly humorous, Nightmare may not be for all tastes, but it's still a keeper, likely to be revisited down the line as something slightly more accomplished than its critical and commercial reputation suggests.  

Killing Them Softly

Director: Andrew Dominick
Starring: Brad Pitt, Scoot McNairy, Ben Mendelsohn, Richard Jenkins, James Gandolfini, Ray Liotta, Sam Shepard, Vincent Curatola
Running Time: 97 min.
Rating: R

★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

Then-Presidential candidate Barack Obama and former President George W. Bush are seen or heard so many times in the 2008-set gangster drama Killing Them Softly that they could reasonably share top billing with Brad Pitt and no one would think anything of it. Hardly a scene goes by where they're not either on the radio delivering a speech or stumping for themselves on TV. It's obvious what director Andrew Dominik was going for with his repeated attempts to connect the U.S. economic crisis of six years ago to the state of organized crime, even going so far as to update the setting of George V. Higgins' 1974 novel, Cogan's Trade, to do it. Too obvious. That it seems to be the only thing worth talking about speaks volumes about how distractingly prominent it is, which is a shame because the film isn't without its virtues and actually starts off really well. At best, it's an interesting experiment that again proves Brad Pitt isn't afraid to take chances, but it just runs out of narrative steam after a while, hardly amounting to much by the time the closing credits arrive.

It's the fall of 2008 and a whiny, "in over his head" Frankie (Scoot McNairy) and drug addict Russell (Ben Mendolsohn) are recruited by Mafia boss Johnny "Squirrel" Amato to hold up and rob Markie Trattman's (Ray Liotta) poker room. Since Markie robbed his own game to earn insurance money before with no repercussions, Squirrel figures he'd just be suspected again without getting off as easy this time around. Everything seems to go off without a hitch until hitman Jackie Cogan (Pitt) is tipped off by a mob informant (Richard Jenkins) about what went down and he makes it it his mission to whack the party responsible, which isn't good news for Squirrel, Frankie, Russell, or even the falsely implicated Markie. He enlists the help of hitman Mickey Fallon (James Gandolfini) to get the job done, but things get a little more complicated than expected.  

When director Andrew Dominik focuses solely on the task at hand in developing this story and its characters, the results are surprisingly successful, especially in the film's engaging opening hour. When he turns his attention to overt symbolism and attempts to draw broad parallels between the country's financial collapse due to a lack of oversight and the political hiearachy within organized crime, the film fails miserably. Besides the comparison itself being somewhat of a stretch (at least in the context it's presented), Dominick just won't give the idea a rest, even when the heavy-handed allegorical flashiness is clearly detrimental, if not completely at odds, with the inherent grittiness of the material. The filmmakers probably would have been better off just setting this in 1974 and calling it Cogan's Trade since it does seem like that's what they really wanted to do the whole time, with the script basically shouting for it at points. If it's any relief, Roberta Flack's 70's hit does not at any point make a soundtrack appearance but the film's title is referenced through a memorable dialogue exchange that at least offers somewhat of a clue as to its meaning. I was satisfied, if completely unsurprised, by the explanation. But least that has more to do with an emotional crisis than a financial one.     

A lot of interesting things occur within the opening hour, too many of them under-cut with reminders that IT'S 2008 AND THERE'S A PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION COMING UP. In case you haven't heard. And hear you will. During the big hold-up. In the mobster's car radios. Everywhere. Do mobsters listen to talk radio? No matter. In this film they do it non-stop just so we get the message. The sad part is that most everything else works until the half-way point. President Bush's TV cameo aside, the big hold-up scene crackles with intensity and Scoot McNairy (who's the real lead here) is as impressive in this as we was in Argo last year, and just as unrecognizable as the bumbling, child-like Frankie. You almost feel sorry for a guy so clearly playing out of his league, while his partner in crime Russell is well played by a scary Mendelsohn as an  unpredictably dangerous wildcard.

Pitt's role is much smaller than ads let on but also a lot cooler and more calculated, dressed in all black and making his intro to Johnny Cash's "The Man Comes Around." He makes a co-starring part seem larger and more important than it should on the strength of his charisma, used to menacing effect as Cogan. This also marks one of the final supporting performances in what was the increasingly prolific big screen career of the late James Gandolfini. And I'm glad there's still a few films of his still coming down the pike because he's much better than what he's saddled with here. As an aging, hot-headed hitman addicted to drugs and hookers he goes toe-to-toe with Pitt and more than holds his own, even if I'm completely uncertain as to the character's purpose in the story. It's right around this point that the film starts spinning its wheels and eventually limps over the finish line without much to show for it.  

Less a crime drama than a thematic bludgeoning, the character-centric moments of Killing Them Softly are subtle, and at times even masterful.  It's just a shame most of that is masked under a heavy load of pretension and overt symbolism. Being someone who's generally no big fan of mob movies in general, I was surprised how well the crime component played for me and how much potential it had, despite a myriad of issues that seemed fixable with a re-write or two. It was also impossible to market this as a "guy movie" since there's very little action to speak of and hardly a woman to be found. Even with a trimmed running time, calling this a tough sell is an understatement. Cited as a rare flop for Pitt, it isn't as worthless as you've heard, and at least undeserving of the "F" cinemascore rating thrust upon it by dejected audiences expecting an action thriller from the star. This is about as far from that as it gets, its meditative tone and style more closely resembling a crime film released in 1974 than 2008 or 2012. That's its biggest strength. Its weaknesses are scattered almost everywhere else, with its admittedly silly title actually representing the least of its problems. 

Liberal Arts

Director: Josh Radnor
Starring: Josh Radnor, Elizabeth Olsen, Richard Jenkins, Allison Janey, John Magaro, Elizabeth Reaser, Zac Efron
Running Time: 97 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

Any fears that writer/director/star Josh Radnor's Liberal Arts would hit uncomfortably close to home for me wiped away during the first half-hour when 35 year-old New York college admissions counselor Jesse Fisher (Radnor) laughs and rolls around in the grass upon returning to his alma mater in Ohio. It's a relief when the movie does eventually hit on the truth that returning to your college at any point after graduating can be awkward, uncomfortable experience that isn't the slightest bit welcoming despite how much you may have enjoyed your time there. Once college is over, it's done. The best case scenario is you take what you've learned and the experiences you've had and carry them with you for the rest of your days to positively inform your actions and decisions as an adult. That's not exactly what's happened for Jesse (Radnor) who jumps at the opportunity to return for the retirement ceremony of his second favorite professor, Peter Holberg (Richard Jenkins).

Obsessed with literature and the arts, Jesse's mind had never really left so returning is almost a formality at this point. But it won't be the same. Not by a long shot. It's to Radnor's credit that his script acknowledges that but then somewhere along the line it loses me and it starts to become a movie written by someone trying to send a message rather than stay true to the characters.We knew the message we were going to get going in and it's unquestionably the right one, but I just didn't care for the way Radnor delivered it. What starts as a highly relatable personal journey of self-discovery ends up giving too many easy answers for the more challenging questions the film intelligently asks.

At times I felt almost bludgeoned over the head with its black and white philosophizing which is a real a shame considering the more honest feelings it subtly invoked. It kind of becomes a mess in the third act, but at least it's a fascinating one that has something to say and proves that Radnor definitely has a promising filmmaking future ahead of him when (if?) How I Met Your Mother ends. His forseeable acting future could be taken up playing characters within in the same general realm of his lovelorn, super sensitive Ted Mosby but that's okay. I really like that character and consider Radnor a likable, underrated actor capable of delivering performances that may end up being even better than the really good one he gives here. Because of the rather obvious similarities between Ted and Jesse you wouldn't necessarily be wrong in calling this Ted Mosby: The Movie, and from where I sit there's nothing necessarily wrong with that either. Nor is the fact that Elisabeth Olsen's Zibby ends up being the latest addition into the "Manic Pixie Dream Girl" canon. If you look up the very definition of the term there's likely to be a picture of  Zibby right there next to it as it would be difficult to find a character that better exemplifies that infamous (and sometimes unfairly derided) movie trope. But let's be honest. Did anyone really expect Radnor to make a film without a MPDG? I'd almost be disappointed if he didn't. What I don't like are those characters being discarded by the screenplay once they've served their purpose, rendering them practically pointless aside from their role as a life message deliverer.

Certain character types exist because they work when effectively executed and the real reason the MPDG gets more flack than other more insulting stereotypes has to do with the fact that it hits a rather embarrassing nerve for guys, depicting them as insecure and needing to have their lives saved by a woman. Or rather a girl. A free-spirited one who doesn't care a single iota about any issues or flaws they may have. Like any screenwriting creation it's shaded in a certain amount of truth. And also like any, there are good and bad depictions that primarily depend on the integrity of the surrounding narrative. As far as these things go, Olsen's Libby, the 19-year-old daughter of one of Prof. Holberg's colleagues, makes for a textbook MPDG who's smart, pretty and seemingly mature beyond her years. And that's not to mention the fact she writes letters. On actual paper. A real keeper. The only drawback is that she reads Twilight, which horrifies Jesse (and me). While I don't recall that the books are never implicitly mentioned by name it's clear what they're talking about and it soon becomes this hilarious symbol of their age difference and an opportunity for Radnor to go into full Mosby mode, giving a snobby, pretentious speech about how its popularity represents America's declining tastes. It's a fun scene.

Compelling, the film burns through much of its story in the first 25 minutes only to pleasantly reveal that it's just getting started. The meat of their relationship takes place by mail, making it even harder for Jesse to stay away this time. They do seem made for each other which is why it gets so frustrating when Radnor the writer attempts to undercut that in favor of delivering his well-intentioned, but poorly realized message. While there's undeniably a lot wrong with a 35 year-old guy getting involved with a 19-year-old girl and creeping around the dorm and attending parties, Radnor underestimates how good he and Olsen are together at selling something that comes off as the complete opposite. So attempts later to turn this into an American Beauty or Lolita-like situation fall flat because certain plot developments feel overwritten. And it sure doesn't help the cause of his goal that the two of them look around the same age despite Radnor being considerably older. At points the movie is so relentless in its morality it seems like he's trying to have his cake and eat it too by depicting this magical, once-in-a-lifetime connection before telling audiences, "Oh wait, shame on YOU. It's wrong." Without spoiling too much, I'll say that Jesse does (or rather doesn't) do something I just couldn't buy. Well, I could buy it, but it felt manufactured to teach a lesson and stands in stark contrast to his actions leading up it. Then sub-plots are piled on top of it and an entire separate story is tagged on involving a bookstore clerk (played by Elizabeth Reaser) that's actually kind of insulting in its obviousness.

The movie's best scenes are on campus with Jesse and Zibby talking and just hanging out. It feels real and Olsen proves she's capable of going to the opposite end of the spectrum as the brainwashed cult follower she darkly portrayed in Martha Marcy May Marlene. As a director Radnor perfectly captures the very specific feeling of a small liberal arts school at that point in someone's life without missing a beat, as well as the wild array of supporting characters you'd encounter there. The great Richard Jenkins serves as the film's sturdy anchor with his heartfelt performance as the retiring Holberg, who's not quite sure he's ready to leave or what to do with himself once he does. His attempts to hang on as long as possible mirror Jesse's and their bond feels like a honest one. Far less successful is a sub-plot involving his old romantics professor, the cold, detached Judith Fairfield (Allison Janey) who seems to exist as a bitch on wheels plot device to provide final act shock value rather than an actual human. Surprisingly, Zac Efron is really effective in a small role as a campus stoner trying to get Jesse to embrace the spontaneity of life while John Magaro impresses as a depressed, emotionally disturbed student he takes under his wing.

Radnor supposedly based this script off a visit he made to his alma mater of Kenyon College in Ohio while promoting his directorial debut a couple of years ago and the strange feelings it invoked. I almost feel guilty not recommending it since I'm a big fan of the actor and it definitely strikes a chord but a story like this can't for a second feel overplotted and needs some room to breathe. All the scenes with he and Olsen are gold and after the first 40 minutes or so you really think this is going somewhere deep, only to just pull back and handle everything with kid gloves.As unfair as it is, I couldn't help but compare it to the all-time greatest college-set dramedy, 2000's Wonder Boys, which tackles a similar topic, but appears to do so effortlessly by showing instead of telling. Or in this case lecturing. While it all doesn't quite come together, I'd still rather watch this again than some better movies that don't screw up as interestingly. It's at least clear coming out of this that Radnor will at some point make a great film. This just wasn't it, too often coming across as overly sensitive and eager to please as its protagonist.

The Cabin in the Woods

Director: Drew Goddard
Starring: Kristen Connelly, Chris Hemsworth, Anna Hutchison, Fran Kranz, Jesse Williams, Richard Jenkins, Bradley Whitford, Brian White, Amy Acker
Running Time: 95 min.
Rating: R

★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

Somehow, someway, I was able to avoid all spoilers before seeing the supposedly genre bending horror curiosity The Cabin in the Woods, which was released to some surprising critical acclaim a few months ago. Now after actually viewing it, I'm forced to ask: "Spoil what?" Granted the plot does take a major meta plot u-turn in the last half hour, but it's mostly a conventional horror movie wrapped around a gimmick that at times seems forced and self-congratulatory. Produced and co-written by Joss Whedon and directed by his former Buffy collaborator Drew Goddard, this isn't a game-changer. It doesn't subvert the genre. If anything, it's too ambitious for its own good, going to great lengths to deliver a supposedly high-concept horror entry that thinks it has a lot to say when it's just really kind of a mess. No worries about spoilers here since I couldn't explain the direction this goes in if I tried, and like the film, it would feel like a lot of work for little pay off. It's hard to actually blame audiences for staying away as its one thing to release a fun, dumb slasher but quite another to pretend it's a deep, existential commentary on how we watch horror movies. But at least commend the filmmakers for attempting something different and ambitious, even if the final result is the same as usual, with just a little sci-fi thrown in for flavor.

When college students Dana (Kristen Connolly), Curt (Chris Hemsworth), Jules (Anna Hutchison), Holden (Jesse Williams) and Marty (Fran Kranz) decide to take a weekend vacation at Curt's cousin's remote cabin somewhere in the woods, the trip starts going terribly wrong. All four characters can be given one word horror descriptors such as Virgin, Jock, Slut, Brain and Stoner, although the film's biggest accomplishment is in making those stereotypes serve a purpose and actually mean something to the narrative. Well, kind of. It isn't long after they arrive that they see and hear strange things, a family of redneck zombies are summoned from the grave and we have at least what appears to be at first your run-of-the-mill slasher. And for the most part, it is. But there's a twist. We find out early that these five have actually been placed in some kind of controlled  situation run by Gary Sitterson (Richard Jenkins) and Steve Hadley (Bradley Whitford), trained technicians who are not only manipulating this horror environment from the control room, but influencing the kids' actions to achieve a desired outcome for their unseen boss. While Gary and Steve bet on the results and celebrate gory deaths, the film cuts back and forth between the control room and cabin as the five fight to survive and the purpose of the operation begins to reveal itself.

It's an interesting decision to reveal early on that all these would be victims are actually subjects being filmed in some kind of twisted horror Truman Show, leaving the big revelation in the how and the why. What's most disappointing about this approach isn't the actual idea but how these technicians overseeing the action aren't depicted as even the slightest bit creative, trotting out the same horror tropes we've been watching on screen for the past twenty years. Sure, they're laughing along with us, but how does that make the actual execution of it any less tired?  Luckily, Jenkins and Whitford are a riot in their roles and their jokes help carry a crazy, convoluted premise that turns out to be more trouble than its worth. The last 40 minutes you're either on board with or you're not, as the only thing that is predictable is that these kids won't go down without a fight and the masterminds behind the project will have to dramatically change course to get the job done. I not only found the big revelation at the end (featuring a cameo by a big name actress) silly, but a dealbreaker considering Whedon and Goddard painted themselves into a corner by having the whole story rest on it. None of the performances are anything to write home about, though that hardly matters given how little is asked of them. Besides Jenkins and Whitford, only Fran Kranz makes a significant impression as stoner Marty, gobbling up the film's best one-liners. A pre-Thor Chris Hemsworth shows few signs he would be that strong screen presence down the road, while Kristen Connolly is bland enough as the protagonist that I actually had problems rooting for her.

Whenever you see Joss Whedon's name attached to a project it's only natural for fans to expect greatness. Not being overly familiar with his other work, I wasn't. And yet this still feels like a big let down. It's exciting whenever the horror genre goes in a new direction, but this only feels like a slight deviation. At the end of the day, it doesn't differ much from the usual slashers we're bombarded with and at points, it's even a little worse. Just because a movie is self-referential doesn't make it groundbreaking. A similar premise involving a mysterious project was well presented a few years ago in The Box and everyone inexplicably seemed to think it was the worst thing they've ever seen. But that was hard sci-fi with ideas. The Cabin in the Woods feels more like an inside joke for horror fans. Despite being nonsensical, there's no denying it has its moments and is skillfully directed, but the generic script fails its audience by promising a fresh spin that never comes.

The Rum Diary

Director: Bruce Robinson
Starring: Johnny Depp, Aaron Eckhart, Michael Rispoli, Amber Heard, Richard Jenkins, Giovanni Ribisi
Running Time: 120 min.

★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

What sticks out most in the mind after watching Bruce Robinson's run-of-the-mill adaptation of Hunter S. Thompson's The Rum Diary is its insignificance. That would be fine if it were fun, but instead it plays as if a studio executive just got a memo that Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas became a cult classic that needs to capitalized on as soon as Johnny Depp's available, but failed to take notes on what made that movie so crazy and special. This seems to want to be that crazy, and even comes close a few times, but a conventional, uninspired treatment of the material ties it down. And if there's anything a Thompson adaptation shouldn't be, it's conventional. But even taken on its own terms it doesn't quite work like it should, oddly mixing romance and adventure while managing to supply only a few laughs. There was definite potential for greatness and some moments really work, but not consistently enough to amount to a worthwhile experience. And that's a shame, because my expectations were reasonably high, if you can forgive the pun.

Depp plays unsuccessful novelist Paul Kemp who on a whim gets a job as a journalist with the struggling San Juan Star newspaper in Puerto Rico, edited by the grumpy, toupee wearing Lotterman (Richard Jenkins) who immediately resents his excessive drinking and partying. Soon after his arrival he befriends the paper's photographer, Sala (Michael Rispoli) as well as the perpetually stoned and drunk Moberg (Giovanni Ribisi), a freelance reporter who can't be fired. Kemp's exploits soon catches the eye of sleazy local real estate developer Hal Sanderson (Aaron Eckhart), who offers him an ad writing job for his latest land venture. The only problem is Kemp's fascination with Sanderson's sexy, mysterious girlfriend Chenault (Amber Heard) who he was immediately taken by after a memorable ocean encounter at a party. Torn between business and pleasure, Kemp is warmly welcomed into Sanderson's fold initially, but his new friendship comes at a personal price.

There's little plot in the film but what plot there is still seems like too much. Nearly everything involving Sanderson's land deal plays as a half-hearted attempt to shoehorn all these eccentric characters into a cohesive narrative. They're all entertaining and it's easy to imagine a film where they'd all be let out of their cages to run wild instead of merely going through the motions of a partially developed romantic triangle and an awkward crusading newsmen sub-plot that takes center stage in the final act. By the end of the first hour, the story already seems to be running on fumes. That's there's still something addictive about all this is a credit to the talent of the actors involved and the fact that Robinson's mesmerizing evocation of 1960's Puerto Rico is absorbing enough to distract from the fact that the film barely connects on a dramatic or comedic level.

The biggest laughs come from the feud between Jenkins' old school editor and and Ribisi's druggie character. Always a strange type of talent who's tough to cast in anything, this might the first time Ribisi outright steals a movie from his co-stars with his unhinged craziness. His part has no aim or direction, but that's actually a relief compared to how restrained and ordinary everything else seems, especially the love triangle. While this is the most interesting Depp has been onscreen in a while, I just never got the relationship that was supposed to be developing between Paul and Chenault, probably because there just doesn't seem to be much of one. Or at least as strong of one as there should be to justify all the silly developments that occur. The risk-taking Amber Heard (who beat out her lookalike Scarlett Johansson for this part) continues to prove herself as the real deal in an underwritten role, with the movie feeling most alive when she's sharing the screen with Depp. Aaron Eckhart plays yet another expert sleazebag with duplicitous motives, reminding us that few do it better.

The movie's saving grace is Depp, who's always excelled most when not playing freaks, but somewhat normal people with off-kilter quirks. What's fun is how you can see more subdued, less cynical glimpses of Depp's Raoul Duke from Fear and Loathing taking shape in the performance. That Paul Kemp qualifies as a somewhat "normal" character for him these days is kind of scary. Unfortunately, these semi-human performances seem to only come around once a decade so even if the results are a lot less spectacular this time around, it's a relief to just see him in Thompson's universe again instead of mugging it in kabuki face paint for Tim Burton. I wish Depp would take more projects like this, only with slightly better results.  Emblematic of the movie's main problem is a single scene in which Kemp and Sala go on a hallucinogenic drug trip. It's so tame, so visually uninteresting you'd think they only took an extra teaspoon of cough medicine. The whole film needed to contain the reckless abandon of two key scenes heavily advertised in the trailers and commercials. One in a convertible on the road. The other in a nightclub. They carry the promise of what this should have been.

That The Rum Diary was written by Thompson in 1961 but didn't see publication until 1998 is ironic considering it's the same year the big screen adaptation of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas undeservedly flopped in theaters before re-emerging later as a classic. One of those feels like a true adaptation while the other barely seems to have come from the same author's pen. Or typewriter. As much as I love good films about crazy writers, this one could have stood to have actually been more of a mess, truer in spirit to its source. So while I appreciated The Rum Diary for what it was, I was more disappointed in what it wasn't. The potential still exists to adapt it into a great movie. But as this attempt proves, that's far easier said than done.

Let Me In

 

Director: Matt Reeves
Starring: Kodi Smit-McPhee, Chloe Grace Moretz, Elias Koteas, Richard Jenkins, Cara Buono, Sasha Barrese, Dylan Minnette
Running Time: 116 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 

Let Me In, director Matt Reeves' American remake of the acclaimed 2008 Swedish horror film Let The Right One In is not a movie about vampires. That detail is wisely a backdrop to what's a coming-of-age period film and mood piece featuring a character who happens to be a vampire. It's a means to an end, important in identifying why the film succeeds and how it escapes the pitfalls always accompanying this genre. Having still not seen the original I can't compare, but can still somewhat appreciate the uphill battle Reeves faced in justifying such a project's existence. One group will hate it because they reject the idea of their favorite horror film being remade or just assume any foreign property will have to be dumbed down to appeal to mainstream audiences. Everyone else won't care at all because they've never heard of it. Reeves manages to overcome both those obstacles with an unusually smart, suspenseful film that's beautifully photographed, lushly scored and fully absorbing from start to finish. And that statement comes from someone who usually can't stand anything having to do with vampires and considers it a lazy, overused film topic. If only the final product could turn out like this more often. The few scenes depicting that are handled surprisingly well, but the real horror is found in the emotional pain of growing up.

It's 1983 in Los Alamos, New Mexico and an apparent suicide of a disfigured patient at the local hospital panics the local police detective (Elias Koteas), who finds only a note by his bedside reading: "I'm sory Abby." We flashback two weeks earlier to meet 12-year-old Owen (Kodi Smit McPhee), lonely, depressed boy going through some serious issues with his parents' impending divorce and brutal harassment from bullies at school. With no one to turn to and too afraid to retaliate, he internalizes everything and creates imaginary scenarios of revenge with his pocket knife and a tree. If ever a child were destined for a future filled with trips to the school psychologist's office, it's him. Relief comes in the arrival of Abby (Chloe Grace Moretz), a girl who claims to be his age who moves in next door with a solemn looking middle-aged man (Richard Jenkins) who appears to be her father. After some reluctance on her part to befriend him they start to grow closer and it becomes clear she isn't a twelve year-old girl and that isn't her father. But let's not call her a "vampire," because doing that would be a betrayal of how intelligently the narrative unfolds and the restraint with which her situation is presented. She simply needs to blood to survive. This becomes a problem as she forges a closer relationship with Owen, who inches closer to the truth about her as she teaches him to stand up to his tormentors.

Vampirism always seems to fare best in films when it's treated as an affliction or almost a disease of sorts, as it is here. Abby's condition isn't glamorized in any way, she doesn't think it would be cool to live thousands of years, dress in gothic clothes, sleep all day or hang out with werewolves. Instead, this is a curse ruining her life and preventing her from ever forging a meaningful bond with anyone. That you could probably replace being a vampire with any other physical or psychological affliction and still emerge with a story just as strong proves how much more is going on beneath the surface. It's really about two lonely, troubled kids brought together with their friendship tested by this huge obstacle put in front of them. The question becomes whether Owen can still accept her and whether Abby can withstand the temptation to use him as she does everyone else, including her "father." There are times that this budding childhood romance is handled with such special care that if not for the dark, somber undercurrent, the storyline would recall My Girl before it would a horror film.  What scares there are come not from the few, well-placed and suspenseful vampire attacks from Abby but instead the bullying Owen endures at school by Kenny (an effectively menacing Dylan Minette) and his gang, which is more terrifying than any of the the graphic blood-drenched events that unfold during the picture.

As smart as Reeves' script (based on the novel by John Ajvide Lindqvist in addition to the Swedish film) is in putting the emphasis in the right place and cloaking the vampire elements in a coming-of-age tale, casting was crucial. Thankfully, the young performers are amazing. Kodi Smit-McPhee is subtly devastating as the fearful, lonely Owen so disconnected from everyone else that even his mother (played by Cara Buono) is barely shown on screen at all, her face covered or out of view throughout.  After going two for two in 2010 with this and Kick-Ass, Chloe Moretz is emerging as an actress whose career bares watching in much the same way Natalie Portman's did in its early stages. This is a complex role requiring her to be doomed killing machine in addition to conveying the emotional pain of a lovestruck young girl sentenced to spend her entire life in childhood. This dark, heavy material but these kids get it and rise to the challenge. Just as strong in a small but pivotal role is Richard Jenkins as Abby's guardian, with his sad eyes and morose expression revealing more than any line of dialogue possibly could. And during one memorable stretch of the film, he still somehow does it with a bag over his head. As a character added for this adaptation, Elias Koteas is the eyes and ears for the audience as a nameless local cop, but he gets us to care what happens to him, even if against better judgment we find ourselves in the uncomfortable position of rooting for a vampire to escape.

The early 80's setting present in both the novel and original film was retained and is maximized to great effect through the perfect placement of certain classic rock songs of the era and period details that leave no doubt this takes place in the 80's without ever hammering us over the head with it. The time and setting feel like an natural extension of the plot, like a dream or memory that if updated to modern day could somehow ring false regardless of one's familiarity with the source material.  Only the best period pieces understand it's not so much about the clothes, hairstyles or music (though it's a factor), but capturing a certain mood or spirit of the time that takes you back. The somber tone of the film is spot-on and never waivers, reinforced by Michael Giacchino's creepy, melancholy score and cinematography from Greig Fraser that's soaked in washed-out browns and a yellowish amber tint that creates a visually unsettling atmosphere. That such a methodical, introspective film came from the director of 2008's shaky-cam monster movie Cloverfield is kind of a shock. This is about as far from that as can be while still vaguely straddling a similar genre.

When Stephen King named Let Me In his favorite movie of 2010, calling it the "best American horror film in the last 20 years" I was skeptical knowing his history of overpraising mainstream fluff.  If the statement is a bit of an exaggeration (and as much a testament to all the inferior horror films we've suffered through), it isn't much of one. Nothing about this movie feels mainstream and it's too intelligent to ever be mistaken for the latest Hollywood cash-in slasher remake. If nothing else, it teaches the lesson that the best movies are rarely about what they're actually about and horror can't truly unsettle unless you care about the characters and their situation. Let Me In gets this right, proving all remakes don't have to be pointless and aren't necessarily destined to fail.

The Visitor

Director: Tom McCarthy
Starring: Richard Jenkins, Haaz Sleiman, Danai Jekesai Gurira, Hiam Abbass
Running Time: 103 min.
Rating: PG-13

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

“Hey, it’s THAT guy.”

How many times have we said that when watching a movie and an actor we recognize appears on screen? We could have seen them in tons of different films but still don’t have a clue of their name. Character actors are among the hardest working, most underappreciated people in Hollywood. They’re journeymen and women moving from role to role, yet also chameleons in the way they can slip into each of them and make it their own. Most of them will never get top billing in a major film once in their careers, yet sometimes it’s their performance that audiences remember most.

Some of them break through to the mainstream. Most don't, but a few do. Kevin Spacey was one. So was William H. Macy. At one point we didn’t have a clue who they were, but we definitely knew the face. All it takes is one role. For Richard Jenkins that role has come with The Visitor as his years of hard work are rewarded with the role of his life. It’s a victory for character actors everywhere and makes you wonder how many other lesser-known names just need to be afforded the opportunity Jenkins was here. Probably more than we think. And here's hoping the Academy doesn't snub it like they did Peter Dinklage's equally textured work in The Station Agent. This is one of the very best performances so far this year.
Often small films are released and hyped up by the media as “indie darlings” or “small gems.” Most of them aren’t, and as a result, the few that really are, suffer. 2003’s The Station Agent was a special kind of film that was actually the real deal. And now it’s director Tom McCarthy has made another one, just further proving the strong, but sensitive control he has in dealing with real-life issues. This should be screened back to back with Gavin Hood’s clumsy Rendition so everyone can see how one movie can treat a difficult subject with dignity and intelligence while another trips over a similar topic with complete stupidity. This film is timely and political but its greatest asset is that it doesn’t feel like that at all. It’s really about a lonely man spinning his wheels until something comes along that gives his life renewed meaning and purpose. And when it does, a certain pain even accompanies that.

Sometimes you see people who are just going through the motions, disengaged from everything that’s happening around them and a spectator to their own life. 62 year-old Connecticut economics professor Walter Vale (Jenkins) is literally going through the motions after the death of his wife. We know his wife passed away before its even revealed. Not because the script is obvious, but because you can read it on Jenkins’ face. He hates his job and takes up classical piano as a hobby, not because he enjoys it, but because his wife was a classical pianist. He’s terrible at it but doesn’t care. He’s also not a very good professor and could care even less. His excuse for teaching only one class (the same one he’s been teaching for 20 years) is that working on a book. He’s not. The truth is he isn’t doing anything…at all. He hasn’t been for a while now.

The ultimate slap in the face comes when he’s asked (or rather told) to fly to New York City to present a paper he didn’t even write at a stuffy academic conference. While there he discovers two illegal immigrants staying in his long vacated apartment. Tarek (Haaz Sleiman), a Syrian drummer and his girlfriend Zainab (Danai Jekesai Gurira in her film debut) a jewelry maker from Senegal, apologize for the intrusion and attempt to leave. But Walter, knowing they have no place to go, invites them to stay with him. Tarek begins giving drum lessons to Walter and he begins to find the emotional release and connection the piano never supplied for him. Through this new friendship we start to see glimpses of the man he was before his wife’s death. Until Tarek is suddenly and unjustifiably arrested in the subway and taken to a detention center where he faces the threat of deportation. Tarek’s mother Mouna (Hiam Abbass) is also in the country illegally and forms a bond with Walter to help her son escape this horrific predicament.

Don’t be fooled by the topic this explores. It isn’t the usual liberal garbage that Hollywood has been feeding us over the past couple of years. While it probably won’t end up on Rush Limbaugh or Bill O’ Reilly’s list of favorite films and it does take a hard stance on the illegal immigration issue it does so with fairness and with intelligence. It doesn’t paint this as a human issue, not a political one. It pulls no punches in invoking 9/11 and it’s a testament to how relevant it is to the story that it would have been more offensive had McCarthy not mentioned it. But I hesitate even saying it has any political undercurrents at all because it’ll be the last thing on your mind when the film ends. The story is about the gradual lifting of Walter’s isolation and re-entry into the world. When his wife passed away so did he. Not physically, but emotionally. He’s dead to the world, but more importantly, to himself.

What makes Jenkins’ performance so brilliant is how, underneath the melancholy exterior, he gives us small, subtle clues that he was once a vibrant man who loved life. It’s a tightrope walk going through an entire film in a shroud of depression but giving us just enough of a hint that there’s still something left in there. So many others actors would have attempted to do too much and succumb to grand displays of emotion when they’re not called for, but not Jenkins. He knows better. Because of this we’re treated to a man slowly re-discovering his life and what resonates deepest is how important it is to have something that you love no matter how insignificant it seems to anyone else, whether it be a job or a hobby or anything. Music becomes that for Walter and for the first time in a while he starts to actually feel.

I’m always amazed that when meeting someone the first question asked is always “What do you do?” Of course, the implication of that is what someone does for a living defines who they are as a person. That’s always the LAST question I ask because the other stuff is always a lot more interesting. This movie actually understands that. It also understands, in depicting the relationship that develops between Walter and Tarek’s mother, that it is possible for a man and woman to care deeply for one another with no romantic strings attached. A dumb mainstream Hollywood film would have had them jumping into the sack over their grief. This story and its characters exist on a deeper level.

Much like McCarthy's previous film, The Station Agent, this is fairly straightforward and contains little in the way of surprises. The joy is in how he gets there. What surprises there are come in recognizing all the mistakes that are somehow avoided in dealing with material this tricky. The final scene is perfect on every level. It’s rare you see a closing moment that reaches for the truth. It isn’t one of those “Hollywood endings” where everyone’s okay and goes skipping off into the sunset. It’s a real life ending where someone goes through an eye-opening experience and comes out on the other end a little stronger. Not even much, but a little. And it’s just enough to keep them going.
The film will primarily be remembered for Jenkins performance, but a strong argument could be made that his three co-stars add an important ingredient to him giving it. Had any of them, especially Sleiman as Tarek, been replaced by different actors this wouldn’t have been the same story. With The Visitor Tom McCarthy is two for two in effectively making the toughest kind of film, the human drama. And for Richard Jenkins, audiences now have a name to go with the face.